Plague Wars 06: Comes the Destroyer (24 page)

“I’ve only seen about a half hour of it, fast-forwarding through it to certain marked places. I’ve got a staff meeting in twenty minutes, but I can get one of the other stewards to escort me. I’d like you to stay here and view the entire thing. We’ll talk later.” Huen stood up. “And Shan…don’t share this with anyone yet.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Shan turned to watch the video.

When Huen returned two hours later, Shan sat at the admiral’s desk. He made as if to get up but Huen waved him back and took a seat on a padded chair. “Use the controls there and show me what you have.”

Shan nodded. “I have marked several significant exchanges, wherein the colonel appears to solicit troops under his command to make statements contrary to good order and discipline.” He played several of those for Huen, who felt more and more amazed at each conversation.

“That’s sufficient. The man is…disturbed,” Huen finally said when he had seen enough. “I have never even heard of an officer acting in this way, much less in wartime.”

Shan said, “I agree. While I am no psychologist, this almost seems like some sort of pathological aberration. There is one more, separate clip that’s interesting.”

He brought up and played a few minutes of video showing what appeared to be a reporting interview with Simms, shot from a Marine’s cybernetic eye. Each time one of the two participants said something that might identify the Marine, the audio was bleeped and the video fuzzed, apparently to prevent lip-reading. Even without those details, Simms’ behavior shocked Huen.

Huen crossed his arms and rubbed his face with one hand in thought, and then once again noticed how comfortable he’d gotten with Shan over these last several years.
He’s my closest friend and confidant
, Huen thought,
and I am fortunate to have him. Perhaps someday I will also find a wife, and our children will play together.

“Clearly I have to relieve him, but…”

“But it will have to be done delicately. There’s the political and public relations fallout, but more importantly, he is in charge of the one military force on this base sufficient to cripple it.”

“You mean, if he mutinies? Do we know what the Marines are like? Will they follow him if he refuses to obey orders?”

Shan lifted his huge hands, palms up, in a gesture of uncertainty. “I am not familiar with the temper of the battalion. They never caused any trouble before, aside from a few brawls.”

Huen sighed. “What resources do we have to deal with them?”

“Deal with them?” Shan raised his eyebrows.

“If it comes to a fight.”

Shan shook his massive head, slowly, ponderously. “There is no one on this base that could do so, in a conventional sense. With a very careful plan, they might be taken by surprise. There are command overrides to shut down their cyberware, but that still leaves heavy weapons and combat armor. The armory would have to be secured by some trustworthy force.”

“Difficult and risky.”

Shan nodded again. “But Admiral…perhaps we should try to figure out whether the Marines will follow this man before we – what is the opposite of counting chickens before hatching, in English?”

“Borrowing trouble?”

“Yes. Let us not borrow trouble. Will you give me a day to make some discreet inquiries?”

“Of course, Senior Steward,” Huen replied, standing up, prompting Shan to do the same. “You have my full confidence and authority in this matter. In fact, as busy as I am, I would appreciate it if you could investigate and bring me some way to defuse this situation while maintaining the greatest possible harmony.”

“Yes, sir.” Shan hesitated. “I have one other request.”

“Name it.”

“I would like a signed undated nonprejudicial hardcopy order to detain Simms. If the opportunity presents itself, I would like to be able to take him in for questioning, and only you as the senior commander can sign such an order.”

Huen thought for a moment. He trusted Shan with his life, but sometimes it felt as if his career and the potential shame to his family of a scandal were more important than mere living or dying. This would give his bodyguard a great deal of rope. Hopefully he would not hang himself, and Huen with him.

“All right. Type it up and print it yourself, and I will sign it. I don’t want anyone else seeing it.”

Shan bowed deeply. “I will not fail you, sir.” He reached over to withdraw a flash drive from the data port on the desk. “I have taken the liberty of making my own copy of the video.”

“As you wish.”

Several hours later, he had come to a tentative conclusion, though its proof was yet to come. It appeared his foresight in obtaining the detention order had been prescient.

Now for confirmation.

Taking the flash drive and wiping any residuals from the AV booth, his next stop was to speak with his fellow stewards and pass on certain instructions, and then to call in Lieutenant Harvey, the officer in charge of the ship’s Marine detachment – completely separate from the Callisto battalion – and make arrangements with her as well.

Then he went to the bridge.

Although
Artemis
was grounded on Callisto, it maintained watches and in all ways functioned as a working ship, except that its crew had access to the Grissom base facilities. Shan remembered that one of the officers had a spouse in the Marine battalion.

“Lieutenant Commander Johnstone?” Shan asked, knowing full well he had found the right man.

“Yes, Senior Steward?” Johnstone did not bother getting up or unlinking. Yet.

“May I see you in private for a few minutes, please, sir?”

Johnstone blinked in surprise, undoubtedly because Shan had seldom spoken to him except briefly, in an official capacity. “Of course. Meet me in the wardroom in ten minutes, please? I have to call for relief.”

Shan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Ten minutes later Shan looked at Johnstone across a wardroom table in the corner, away from the few officers stopping in for an off-hours meal or drink. “Sir, the admiral has asked me to make certain confidential inquiries.”

“Sure. What about?”

“I cannot divulge the nature of the inquiries, sir. I am merely informing you that what I am about to ask is official and confidential, and cannot be discussed with anyone. Not even your spouse.”

“My wife?” Johnstone’s face turned concerned. “All right. I know the rules.”

“It’s very important that you do, because I am going to ask you about things you might have learned from her.”

Johnstone’s face froze. “I’m not sure I can answer your questions.”

Shan took one massive hand from where it had been folded on the table in front of him and reached across to lay it on the wrist of the smaller man. “I really need you to do so, sir. Admiral Huen needs you to do so.”

Johnstone opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, his eyes unfocused. “Sure. No problem. As long as it’s official.”

“Very official, sir.” Shan withdrew his hand. “Now please tell me all you know about the temper, morale and esprit de corps of the Callisto Marine battalion, including any discipline problems they might be having.”

Johnstone spoke for almost an hour. At the end of it, Shan sent him back to the bridge to finish his watch. He’d found out all he needed to know.

Shan watched as Lieutenant Colonel Simms left his office for his quarters, accompanied by two escorts with sidearms. The bodyguards did not concern him particularly, but as his enormous body made genuine spying impossible, any approach to the battalion commander would have to be made somewhere away from the Marine compound. The nondescript maintenance coveralls he had put on turned away casual glances.

As he followed well back, Shan realized that until now he had never actually interacted with Simms. On the few occasions that the admiral had met him, Shan had happened to be off duty, with another steward pulling security for Huen.

Or perhaps this was not happenstance at all…

Thinking about that, suspecting what he now suspected, Shan found an explanation for that circumstance blossoming in his mind. So instead of lingering in Marine spaces, he clapped several tiny spy-eyes in places where they would not be noticed, their placement disguised by casual touches on walls and corners and conduits. All together, they covered the front and back entrances and corridors surrounding Simms’ suite.

Then he waited in a small cantina just outside the compound, patronized by a mix of civilians and military, mostly those finishing up a hard workday and grabbing a cheap bite. Shan sat in a corner with his collar loosened, staring at a computer tablet, a half-finished beer in front of him. That was about as inconspicuous as he could make himself short of also changing his body.

The tablet showed nothing but routine work; his view of the spy-eyes was fed to his optic nerve via his cyberware. It took almost an hour before he saw anything significant.

From Simms’ back door a man emerged in a nondescript civilian suit, of indeterminate racial type, not white, not black, not of obviously Asian or Negroid features…if he had to guess, Shan would have posited a South Asian or Semitic ethnicity.

Quickly leaving the bar as if in response to a sudden call, Shan moved to intercept the man before he lost track of him, by waiting at the nearest main intersection he would pass.

Catching sight of his quarry, Shan shuffled along in the man’s wake as he crossed the plant-filled central park, with its crystal dome that right now showed the rings and edge of the planet Jupiter as well as the stars beyond. People thronged the open space, the largest public recreation area on the base, relaxing in the evening. Its lights had already dimmed somewhat, simulating twilight, and lovers strolled hand in hand while manufactured breezes blew and piped-in music played faintly.

That breeze and the myriad scents precluded Shan from obtaining what he really wanted, so he contented himself with trailing along, making sure he was not seen. Once the man hurried across the park, he entered one of the main access spokes and continued walking along the sidewalk next to the tramway.

Shan pressed forward, sensing that this was the perfect chance, as his quarry was confined and was now downwind of the man. As he came up behind to within two meters, the big man expelled all the breath from his lungs and drew in a slow but enormous inhalation, and then fell back, holding the air within himself and switching on his internal emergency oxygen to sustain his function.

That gave him ten minutes or so during which he had no need to breathe. After distancing himself from the man but still following – he might provide Shan with some information by where he went – Shan set to analyzing the molecules within the air sample: dust, droplets, sweat, skin cells and dandruff, expelled lung vapor, every effluvium that inevitably proceeded from a human body as it lived its life.

Ten minutes was not necessary. Shan found what he was looking for right away, and began to breathe naturally again. He kept the smile off his face that threatened to break out, the one that would have told the world how immensely satisfied he was at this moment.

His exercise in surveillance ended after they entered the Quarter, as Shan thought it might. He took note of where the man went, into one of the larger clubs reputedly run by the Tongs, offering gray market services such as booze and strippers and low-stakes poker up front, and more esoteric and illegal diversions in the back. There was no possibility of Shan following him in there; no doubt his face was well known to any criminal organizations here, especially the Asian ones.

Therefore, he withdrew from the Quarter to plan his next move.

The signed order resting in his uniform pocket might still be useful, Shan thought, but right now it had come down to the application of force. His confidence was high that he, with Schaeffer and Clayton backing him up, could handle any one man, no matter how extraordinary.

All wore their steward garb, not because it would impress their quarry, but it might save trouble with any Marines or others who happened to stumble into the situation. Shan and the other two lurked in side corridors to the tunnel that the man he had followed must take if he was to return to Simms’ back door. If by some chance the fellow decided to enter through the front door, Shan would have to wait for another chance, but he thought that possibility remote.

The spy-eye he had placed at the main crossroads nearby finally showed the nondescript individual approaching, his gait precise and steady, unintoxicated and apparently not even tired despite the hour being after midnight
. All the better
, Shan thought. There was no telling exactly how the knockout drugs he had loaded into his air-powered trank pistol would have interacted with any of the illegal substances available in the Quarter.

“He comes,” Shan subvocalized over his internal comm, and the other two men made ready. They carried EMP cannon normally used to knock down cyborgs or vehicles. Their taser-like blasts were also effective to incapacitate ordinary human targets. All in all, they made excellent tools for safely capturing someone who might be in the mood to resist.

Shan stepped out in front of the man from the niche where he had been standing, and the other two stewards drifted out of the side corridors behind the target. Rather than make some kind of demand to submit, Shan fired the trank dart directly at the man’s throat.

Shan had prepared himself for the drug to be less than effective, but he was still surprised at how quickly his target moved – almost fast enough to dodge. However, no matter what kind of person he faced, surprise was on Shan’s side.

When the suited man tried to put on a burst of speed and race around him, Shan fired the rest of the six darts in the gun and then reached out to grapple with him. Surprise worked both ways: Shan found himself holding ragged bunches of suit, and the stumbling figure managed to slip by him, nearly naked. Somehow he had shed his clothing, or the cloth had been made in break-away fashion, and apparently the drugs hadn’t knocked him down.