Rath's Rebellion (The Janus Group Book 5) Page 18

  “No one move!” Ricken thundered, above the cacophony. “That ring was detonated using an energy weapon under my control. Before you arrived here today, we used that device to designate my ring as a target. We also designated several thousand bottles of water as targets. We marked those bottles of water with a red pen.” He pointed down at the Senate floor. “Speaker! Pick up your water.”

  With shaking hands, the Speaker picked up his bottle of water.

  “Is there a mark on it?” Ricken asked.

  The Speaker nodded, mutely.

  “What color is it?” Ricken prompted.

  “R-red,” the Speaker managed. “I drank some of it already.”

  “I imagine you’re not alone,” Ricken told him. “There’s enough energy-designated water in here – and inside many of you – to destroy this chamber several times over.”

  “How do we know he’s not bluffing? I’ve never heard of such a device,” a senator across the floor protested.

  Senator Tsokel stood up. “The device is real,” Tsokel replied. “The Intelligence Committee has every reason to believe that that is indeed Mr. Ricken. And I very much doubt he’s bluffing.”

  “Christ! What have you been hiding from us, Tsokel?” the first senator demanded.

  Next to Tsokel, Senator C. J. Lask shook his head. “Chezel, now is not the time for an inquiry. Sit the hell down, and let’s hear what Mr. Ricken has to say.” Lask looked up at Ricken, who nodded his thanks to the senator. “The floor is yours, sir,” Lask told him.

  “The remaining Senate Guards will disassemble their weapons, and place them on the floor,” Ricken commanded.

  “Do as he says,” the Speaker echoed.

  As the guards disarmed themselves, Ricken picked his way across the balcony and descended to the Senate floor, accompanied by Egline and Linn. The Speaker of the Senate hurried to vacate the podium, and Ricken took his place, flanked by the two women. The Speaker’s speech sat frozen on the teleprompters. Ricken looked up, past the bottled water still sitting on the podium in front of him, out over the crowd of senators sweating in their seats, and addressed the cameras focused on his face.

  “My name is Anders Ricken. And today marks the start of a new Federacy.”

  * * *

  “I need to see your badge and ID,” Atalia said, pointing her pistol at Vence.

  Paisen had her weapon out a split-second later, training it on Atalia. “Stand down, Detective,” Paisen warned her.

  “If this is all just a simple misunderstanding,” Atalia said carefully, holding her pistol steady on Vence, “then I apologize. But both of you are carrying backpacks, just like guildsmen always do, and you seem to know a lot about Paisen and her team, and the dead guy on Jokuan. So I’m not taking any chances. Badge and ID, now.”

  Paisen sighed. “Martin, look at me,” she said.

  The detective turned to look, and as he did, Paisen shifted her face and hair, reverting to the cover identity she had used during their pursuit of the Guild. She kept her weapon trained on Atalia throughout her short transformation.

  “Paisen,” Beauceron breathed.

  “Guess I won’t be apologizing,” Atalia noted, still watching Vence over the sights of her pistol.

  “Martin,” Paisen said. “Everything I just told you is true. The Senate did hire us, we were on Jokuan in an official capacity. You have to believe me.”

  Beauceron bit his lip. “I’m not sure what to believe right now.”

  “If it’s true, we can easily prove it,” Atalia said. “We’ll just call the senators, and they can tell us the truth of the matter.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Vence said, cautiously.

  “Why not?” Beauceron asked.

  “Because we think one of the senators may have betrayed us,” Vence told him. “Like you said: ‘the leak probably came from Anchorpoint.’ ”

  “Why would they have betrayed the same people they hired?” Atalia asked.

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” Vence replied.

  “And thanks to your presentation,” Paisen added, “the Intel Committee has reason to distrust me right now. I haven’t reported in to them since my team was captured by the Jokuans. So now they think we busted Rath out, and allied ourselves with Ricken and the Jokuans, too.”

  “Did you?” Atalia asked.

  “No!” Paisen said.

  “Well, we did go to Scapa to get Rath,” Vence allowed. “But those other assholes beat us to it.”

  “What’s he doing with Ricken?” Beauceron asked.

  “No clue,” Paisen said. “Aside from a message asking for my help, I haven’t had any contact with him since he was arrested. And I didn’t know Ricken was involved with the Jokuans until you shared that in the presentation.”

  “Fuck the Jokuans,” Vence spat. “You guys haven’t seen the concentration camp they built to kill off the surviving rebels from their civil war. And they killed my friend – the one you found in the woods.”

  “Even if you’re working for the Senate, I’m still duty-bound to arrest you for your past crimes,” Beauceron told Paisen. “And we’ll need to start an investigation on the senators for hiring you, too.”

  “Beauceron, will you pull your procedural head out of your ass for one minute and listen?” Paisen said, testily. “I came back here to warn the Senate. The Jokuans are a bigger threat than anyone realizes. Their army shipped out a couple days ago – the entire fleet is deployed god knows where. They’re preparing to launch a full-scale attack as we speak.”

  “We’re all on the same team here, buddy,” Vence admonished him. “We’re trying to help you. But we’re not going to jail – just saying.” She kept one hand raised in the air, but shifted her posture slightly, revealing that her other hand held her pistol – and it was trained on Beauceron.

  Beauceron frowned. An awkward silence settled over the room, but it was broken a split second later when Beauceron’s holophone rang, startling everyone.

  “I’m going to answer,” he told Vence.

  “Okay,” she said. “Slowly.”

  He drew the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s Colonel Jesk,” he said.

  “Put it on speaker,” Paisen told him.

  Beauceron tapped the Answer key. “This is Beauceron.”

  “Is il-Singh with you?” they heard Jesk ask.

  “I’m here, sir,” Atalia replied, watching Vence along the sights of her pistol.

  “Are you two seeing this?” Jesk asked.

  “Seeing what, sir?”

  “Turn on the TV.”

  Beauceron looked at Vence, who nodded. He stood and crossed to the bedside table, where he tapped a button to activate the viewscreen. A Breaking News ticker appeared at the bottom of the screen, and the image showed Anders Ricken standing in the balcony above the Senate chamber, addressing the senators.

  “My god, he is alive,” Paisen whispered, shaking her head.

  “Ricken snuck into the State of the Federacy Address. He has one of those goddamn energy devices here, he just demonstrated it,” Jesk said. “He’s threatening to use it to blow up the entire Senate.”

  “Oh god,” Beauceron said, aghast. “Is the Rampart Guardian at Anchorpoint?”

  “No,” Jesk said. “I just got a report – sensors picked it up a few minutes ago in orbit over Tarkis.”

  “Tarkis?” Beauceron asked. “That’s Rath’s homeworld. What’s it doing there?”

  “We don’t know,” Jesk admitted.

  Atalia’s brow wrinkled. “Ricken must have a secondary device here, on another ship, sir.”

  “That’s our assumption,” Jesk agreed. “We’ve got a team here at Headquarters already working on it, but you two were the first to identify Ricken, and figure this whole mess out. That makes you the most likely to be able to find that device, in my book.”

  “We can try, sir,” Beauceron said.

  “We’re starting with a list of all ships that are
docked at Anchorpoint. I’m sending you a copy. Listen, I’m leaving Headquarters now – I’m going to the Senate chamber to link up with the hostage rescue team. Call me on my holophone if you find anything – anything at all. The minute we seize his ship, they’ll be standing by to breach the Senate Chamber and take down Ricken. But they can’t do a thing until the device is secure.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Find that ship now, Detectives.”

  “Yes, sir,” Beauceron agreed.

  Jesk hung up, and Beauceron shut his phone. He eyed Atalia. “We need to get down to the docking bays.”

  “We could help,” Paisen said. “I think I know where to look.”

  “Why would you help?” Atalia asked.

  “Because we have a credibility problem,” Paisen said. “With both you and the Intel Committee. Helping you find that ship proves exactly what side we’re on in this. Are you going to arrest us if we help you?”

  “Are you sure you know how to find the ship?” Beauceron asked.

  “No,” Paisen said. “I’ve got an idea, but it might not work. I need your word, Martin. Will you arrest us if we help you?”

  Beauceron rubbed his chin. “No,” he said, quietly, reaching a decision. “Not if you help us find the ship. Not until we have a chance to talk to the Senate Intelligence Committee again.”

  “Will you help us find out who betrayed our team?” Paisen asked.

  “Perhaps,” Beauceron said. “Though I’m not sure how much help we’ll be. And let’s worry about the ship first.”

  Atalia studied Vence over the barrel of her gun. “I don’t like this one bit, Martin.”

  “Neither do I,” Vence agreed.

  Paisen put her pistol away. “Vence,” she said. The younger woman frowned, and then holstered her pistol.

  Atalia narrowed her eyes, but after a moment’s pause, she let her gun drop, flicking the safety back on. “Fine,” she said, sighing. “This day can’t get much stranger, anyway.”

  * * *

  “What else?” Hawken asked, shifting in his chair in the Senate Guards’ interrogation room.

  Across from him, Shofel shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have evidence you can use on Foss.”

  “Are you telling me you’ve never seen him do anything illegal?”

  “He had me hire the mercenaries.”

  “Did he put it in writing?” Dasi asked.

  “No,” Shofel said. “We were on a conference call with Rewynn. It wasn’t recorded.”

  “What else?” Hawken pressed him.

  “He knows you’re after him. He skipped out on the State of the Federacy Address tonight because he was afraid you’d be looking for him. Made me stay here to run interference for him, the bastard.”

  “Where is he now?” Dasi asked.

  “I don’t know. He took his private ship, but he didn’t tell me where he was going. He just said he had to talk to one of our allies.”

  “Who could that be?” Hawken asked.

  “I honestly have no idea.”

  There was a knock on the door, and they looked up to see the police officer from reception waving at them urgently.

  “Give me your holophone,” Dasi told Shofel, as they stood up. “We’ll be back in a second.”

  Shofel handed his phone over without a word, and then Dasi and Hawken stepped outside. Dasi pulled the door to the room closed behind her.

  “What’s up?” Hawken asked the officer.

  “There’s a bomb threat, we need to evacuate everyone from the Senate complex,” the officer said.

  “What?” Dasi asked.

  >>>This is the situation I warned you about, Six told Dasi.

  “Is this some kind of security drill?” Hawken asked.

  “Not a drill, sir. Anders Ricken is holding the entire Senate hostage, right now.”

  “Anders Ricken?” Hawken shook his head. “The revolutionary who’s been dead for a couple hundred years?”

  “You can check the news feeds, sir. He’s got some kind of bomb. All they told me is I gotta clear everyone out. That includes you and your prisoner, sir.”

  >>>From what I can glean from the news feeds, the threat is real.

  “We should go, Jace,” Dasi said. She opened the door to the interrogation room. “Grab your stuff,” she told Shofel.

  “I can go?” he asked, confused.

  “No, we’re just relocating,” Dasi said, taking her handcuffs out. “But you finally get to wear the cuffs now.”

  38

  The police cruiser screeched up to the hotel’s entrance, lights flashing. The driver, a young patrolman, stepped out quickly.

  “Detective Beauceron?” he asked. “Colonel Jesk sent me.”

  “Good,” Beauceron said, walking over. “We’re going to take your patrol car, I’m afraid.”

  “No problem, sir,” the officer replied, stepping aside to let Atalia climb into the driver’s seat. “The colonel said to give you whatever help you needed.”

  Beauceron took the passenger seat, while Paisen and Vence sat in the back.

  “Do you need me to come, too?” the patrolman asked, hopefully.

  “Nope,” Paisen told him, and Atalia was already pulling away from the curb.

  “Christ, no,” Atalia agreed, as she accelerated, flipping the siren on full blast. “Fucking rookies.”

  Beauceron passed his datascroll back to Vence, who was booting her own computer up on her lap.

  “That’s the list of ships Jesk sent me,” Beauceron told her. “All Anchorpoint docking records from the last week. What are you going to look for?”

  “We’re going to check the list against the order-of-battle our source on Jokuan sent us a month or so ago,” Paisen told him. “That contains every ship in the Jokuan fleet. Seems like Ricken and the Jokuans are pretty chummy. If we’re lucky, Ricken borrowed a ship from them, and that’s the ship he brought here.”

  Beauceron smiled. “Not bad. You might have made a good detective,” he told Paisen.

  Paisen grunted. “Policing’s too much work. Easier to just kill the bad guys.”

  Vence typed furiously for several seconds, swearing as the car swerved around several other vehicles. “Easy! I’m trying to work back here.”

  Atalia frowned, but stayed quiet.

  “Okay, I’ve got them merged,” Vence reported. “Running an analysis now to cross-reference the lists.” She squinted at the screen. “No matches.”

  “What’s Plan B?” Beauceron asked, disappointed.

  “I’m out of ideas,” Paisen said. “You’re the detective.”

  “What did you search on?” Atalia asked, braking hard to take the exit for the ship’s docking bays.

  “Ship’s name,” Vence told her.

  “Run it again,” Atalia said.

  Beauceron snapped his fingers. “Of course! They would have changed the ship’s name and registration information. Search on ship type this time – manufacturer and model.”

  Vence typed again, then waited. “Four matches,” she said. “But only one of them is still docked. It’s a small, long-range shuttle – holds about ten passengers.”

  Beauceron looked over his shoulder and caught Paisen’s eye. “That sounds like it could be it.”

  “Where?” Atalia asked.

  “Landing bay one-two-oh-three, in the cargo terminal.” Vence tapped on the device’s screen. “The ship’s parked in an interior bay. Should be easier to get on board compared to a docking tube. You should be able to drive right into the main cargo area.”

  “Kill the sirens,” Paisen advised.

  “Why?” Beauceron asked. He flipped a switch on the roof, and the sirens shut off.

  “Because if we’re going to take that ship down, I don’t want them to know we’re coming,” Paisen told him.

  “I think this is where your assistance ends,” Beauceron said. “We’ll take a look at the ship, then I’ll call Colonel Jesk, and get a tactical team sent down here.”<
br />
  “If you put Paisen and me up against a tactical team, I wouldn’t bet on that tactical team,” Vence noted, handing Beauceron his datascroll.

  “Time is of the essence,” Paisen added. “Better to just hit it now.”

  “She’s right, Martin,” Atalia said. “The tactical team could be twenty to thirty minutes out.”

  “I suppose it’s my turn to be uncomfortable with this situation,” Beauceron complained.

  “This was your idea,” Atalia pointed out, following a sign marked Cargo Terminal. “If I’d had my way, we’d be handing these two over to the authorities.”

  “I doubt that,” Vence noted.

  In the back seat, Paisen drew a multi-purpose grenade out of her Forge. Beauceron eyed it suspiciously.

  “Stun grenade, Martin, relax,” Paisen told him. “And, yes, we’ll use stun rounds in our pistols.”

  “Our main objective is to find that high energy device,” Beauceron said. “We need to secure it and disable it as soon as possible.”

  “Agreed,” Paisen said. “It’s likely to be aft, near the ship’s main batteries or the engines.”

  The patrol car emerged out of a narrow tunnel into a sprawling cargo bay, bustling with activity. Forklifts and cargo trucks moved in and out of the large hangars lining each wall of the massive space, where spaceships of varying sizes sat, loading and unloading their goods.

  “Odd numbers are on the left,” Paisen said. “Looks like their bay is about halfway down the row.”

  Atalia slowed, following traffic lanes painted in yellow along the ship’s steel hull. After nearly a minute driving behind a large cargo hauler, she swerved, and stopped at the bay marked 1201. “Didn’t want to drive past the bay,” she said.

  “Yeah, good call,” Paisen agreed. The older woman opened her door and jogged ahead to the dividing wall separating the hangars. She ducked her head around the wall, taking a quick look, and then ran back to the patrol car, setting her Forge on the hood and opening it. She gestured for Vence to do the same.