In the booth beside the posts, four soldiers sat beyond the glass playing poker. One had just turned over his hand. The others tossed their cards onto the table in disgust.
Suddenly the security station went on alert. Bright red warning lights flashed on and off over my head. Clear sheets of bulletproof plastic slid out of the walls creating a bulletproof cell. By the time I realized what had happened, every soldier in the security station had drawn his gun and closed in around me. They stood in a semicircular ring. A few of the officers lowered their guns when they saw that I had no weapon.
The MP holding my bag stepped to the glass and held up a piece of paper for me to read. It was a computer printout with my picture and bio on it.
“Lieutenant Harris, we got a tip that you might stop by.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
My arrest had Che Huang’s fingerprints all over it. The MPs who arrested me had no idea what laws I might have broken. They made no effort to charge me. By now they knew that I was a Liberator; but they could not arrest me for that. It was illegal to manufacture Liberators, and I had clearly not manufactured myself. Liberators were banned from the Orion Arm—Earth’s home arm—but the Golan Dry Docks were located in the Norma Arm. Thinking everything through, I decided that the only crime Huang had on me was being absent without leave.
Having a relatively clean slate would not get me out of the brig in time to help Klyber. I was vaguely aware of the time and decided that Klyber must have arrived. He would have his regular security detail around him. Unless given misinformation, Klyber would notice my absence. Would he look for me? Would he become suspicious and alert his guard? My absence might or might not have been warning enough that Huang might have an ambush in mind.
I needed to get to Klyber. If Huang was behind this …
The last time I ran into Huang, the bastard didn’t even bother having me arrested. He simply paraded me across Mars Spaceport in handcuffs, transferred me to his cronies in the Scutum-Crux Fleet, and had me placed on Ravenwood to die. As it turned out, Huang and Rear Admiral Thurston used Ravenwood as a testing ground for a new breed of clone they had secretly developed to use as Navy SEALS. Huang sent platoons of armed Marines to guard the outpost, then trained his new breed of SEALS by sending them in to slaughter those Marines.
What would Huang do this time? If the soldiers who had captured me had allowed me to make a call, I could have sent a message to Freeman, and he could have warned Klyber that a trap had been sprung.
I was cut off and helpless, able only to wait and see what would happen. I sat on the edge of my cot and looked around the cell for a way out. I must have been in the cell for a few hours, but I had no idea how many. Escape was out of the question. The air vents along the top of the wall were only three inches wide. I could not even fit my fist in them. Unless I could figure out a method for passing through steel walls and bulletproof glass, I might be stuck in this cell for a long time.
Bright light and heat blazed from arc lamps set into the roof of my cell. Cool air blew out of the line of vents just under the seam of the ceiling. Without the cooled air, I would have fried; and without the overbright lights, I would have frozen.
An officer approached the door of my cell and spoke into the intercom.
“You’re free to go,” the man said.
“Free to go?” I asked, both surprised and sardonic. I stood up and walked toward the door. The man outside was a colonel, probably the head of the security station and likely the highest ranking officer assigned to the Dry Docks. Golan was a civilian operation with military security—a lot of military security.
“I apologize for the misunderstanding, Harris.” The glass slid open. The colonel had two guards with him. All three men were armed. Apparently they did not want to take any chances with the dangerous Liberator clone. “Fleet headquarters sent us a message telling us to be on the lookout for a Lieutenant Wayson Harris who was falsely reported as killed in action.”
“That sounds like me,” I said as I followed the colonel and his escort out of my cell and down a hall. Like my cell, the security complex had that odd combination of vents spewing chilled air and blazing hot arc lights.
“And now I’m free to go?” I asked. I did not expect them to let me loose in the Dry Docks.
We reached a table at the end of the hall. My bag sat on the table. One of the guards handed me the bag.
“Everything is in there,” the colonel said, “including your gun.” He sounded apologetic.
I decided to play smart and act like I expected this. Taking the bag, I zipped it open and sifted through my gear as if suspicious something might be missing. I knew everything would be there, and it was.
The colonel watched me. “This is all a misunderstanding,” he said. “My men mistook the bulletin for orders to arrest you. Once we reported the arrest to fleet command, Admiral Huang’s office contacted us.”
“That so?” I asked, acknowledging the colonel with just a glance as I zipped my bag shut. I wanted to come across as officious.
“Nobody told us that you were on a high-security mission for Admiral Klyber. I’m sorry about this. You’re here running security for the Joint Chiefs meeting, aren’t you? I hope we didn’t screw it up.”
“When did Klyber’s party arrive?” I asked.
The colonel’s dark eyes and tight frown created a grave expression. “They’ve been here for several hours.”
“Then we’ll know the extent of the damage pretty soon, won’t we?” I said.
The colonel nodded. “Admiral Huang called my office …the admiral himself,” the colonel said, now sounding desperate.
“Really? What did old Che have to say?” I asked.
The colonel took a deep breath, then lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Admiral Huang says that he missed you.” He paused to see how I would react to the message, then added, “He says he’s surprised to hear you’re alive and that he can’t wait to catch up with you.”
In preparation for the Joint Chiefs arrival, Golan adopted Earth time, and more precisely, Eastern Standard Time. I had arrived at 1400 hours, spent five hours in the brig, and emerged as the summit kicked off with a banquet.
If I rushed, I could get to my room and change before the banquet started. Nothing had happened so far; and if I had to guess, a dining hall filled with security men and armed officers would not be the place for an ambush. As I thought about it, it occurred to me that perhaps Klyber was just paranoid. Sure, Che Huang was a prick, but he was also an officer. Officers didn’t murder each other. Officers ruined each other’s careers and sometimes sent rivals on suicide missions, but they did not kill each other.
Rather than house me in the barracks with his men, the colonel booked me a room in the civilian dormitories—not far from Klyber and the other attendees. He had one of his men drive me to my room in a fast-moving cart. He drove me through a service tunnel, dropping me off in a corridor behind my room. I ran the rest of the way.
Not even bothering to look around my quarters, I tossed my bag on my bed and started to strip off my blouse. The rest of the room was dark, but the glare from the entryway light was enough for me to see what I was doing. I had my blouse off and was just beginning to step out of my pants when I heard the hiss of the pneumatic door sliding open. By the time I heard the noise, it was too late.
CHAPTER NINE
I was bent over with my ass in the air just stepping out of my pants when the door opened. I managed to swivel around just far enough to see the boot before it kicked me across the chin. Bright lights popped in my head as I tipped over and fell into the darkness of my room.
I had no time to react before the man rushed forward, brought up his boot and kicked me in the base of the ribs. My lungs seemed to implode. He kicked with the top of his foot like a soccer player. My ribs already hurt and I saw him bring back the boot for another strike. Behind the kicker, I saw two more men but I did not have time to see their faces.