Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) (35 page)

Captain Dean and Major Carter had established an operations center on the docking arm adjacent to
Wasp
. Search and rescue teams were beginning to explore the seven levels of the core of the way station, identifying breaches in the station hull, and quantifying the degree of damage. Their priority was to find and rescuer survivors. A smaller group was responsible for retrieving wounded personnel—employees or civilians—and bring them to the operations center for treatment by the Fain.

Steg listened to exchanges of communications and realized a number of Fain had ventured out with the search teams to provide medical assistance
in situ
, for cases where injuries were too severe for the person to be moved or where someone was trapped under wreckage. He made his presence known to the two officers.

“Captain, Major. What’s your progress?”

“Sir,” replied the major, addressing Steg as his senior officer. “We’re working well. We set up a second retrieval area for uninjured survivors—well, most are in shock and need food and water. Your Fain are marvelous, truly marvelous.”

“They’ll be pleased to hear your opinion, Major. Dean?”

“I agree with the major, sir. I’ve always had that opinion about our Fain. The station’s data center is back on line, and we have atmosphere and electricity in our work areas. We don’t want utilities activated in other areas unless we’ve confirmed they’re airtight. We have a team—led by Beagle—she’s doing an excellent job—setting up the bots. They expect to have the first twenty or so exterior repair bots active in about an hour.”

“Body count?”

“As we expected, sir,” said Dean. “We’ve recovered a hundred uninjured, sixty with various survivable injuries, some serious, and twenty or more alive but unlikely to survive. Also, three hundred bodies. We think a lot more will be classed as missing—lost when the Xesset shells blew out exterior bulwarks. It’s unlikely we’ll ever recover those bodies.”

“We’re making progress towards the center where we expect to find more survivors than bodies; people there should have been sheltered by the structure of the station,” Major Carter added.

“Good. Can you set up a repeater station on the bridge so we can see progress, something to give the crew an idea of how you’re doing? As long as the effort doesn’t detract from recovery efforts?”

“We were planning to do that for both
Defender
and
Wasp
. Montrose also has requested status updates. It’s straightforward; we’ll get it done in the next thirty minutes.”

“I’ll leave you to it. I need to talk to the Eos president.”

On his way back to
Wasp
, he stopped to talk to Stacia and Finch. “How is your concussion?” he asked Stacia.

“Gone, thank you.” She hugged him. “I hear you’ve been destroying aliens?”

“Me? Whatever gave you that idea?” He turned to Finch. “Is she well enough to help you?”

“Yes. Truly. We wouldn’t let her come to harm. We need all the resources we can get.”

“Could you use help from
Defender
?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, maybe if you talk kindly to Major Carter—he’s the officer with Dean—he’ll contact the Alliance ship for you. I’m confident they’ll assist with medical support. If not, let me know.”

Steg went to the bridge looking for Howe. He wanted to check if he had found and transferred the rebel funds. He wasn’t on the bridge, and Steg headed to the mess, where he found his target and freshly made coffee. He joined Howe at the small table where he was finishing his meal.

“Progress?” Steg asked.

“Very good, sir. I’ve shown the dirtside operators how to clean the virus, and they’ve been appreciative. With our combined efforts, so far we’ve managed to get about 20 percent of the data centers operating the way they should.”

“Did you work on the Joy accounts?”

“Yes, sir. I contacted Sergeant Velez and got some help from the other members of our team. They had lots of details, which helped me identify the accounts. The rebels were certainly making money; the account in the Central Bank now has a balance of almost half a billion standard credits, and I think I’ve found another three accounts. Once they’re confirmed, the transfers will take the balance to well over a half billion. We’ve also discovered details of accounts in other star systems, some Alliance and some Imperial. These people must have been smuggling tremendous quantities of the drug. I’m pleased we’ve stopped them, sir.”

“I think those other systems will be pleased, too. When you have a moment, ask Sergeant Velez if she can spare me a minute. I’ll be in the Ebony war room.”

“Yes, sir. I think she’s helping with the search and recovery now.”

“When you see her. Only if she has a spare minute. Keep me updated with the data center progress. Also with the drug account balance.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steg knew he couldn’t stall any longer. He needed to make contact with the Eos authorities, as much as he didn’t like his previous encounters with the president’s aide. He sat at his workstation in the war room and keyed the comunit. A minute or more passed as the unit repeatedly attempted to link to the dirtside communications network. At last someone answered; the link was voice only.

“President’s office.”

“Steg de Coeur. President Morway, please.”

“He’s not—who did you say you are?”

“Steg de Coeur. I need to speak with the president.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“
Wasp
. We’re docked at the way station.”

“We’ve been trying to contact station management—can you tell me what’s happening there? We haven’t heard from them for days, yeah.”

“I should report to Morway, don’t you think?”

“That old soak—he’s not available and that means he’s had too much to drink again, yeah. You can report to me.”

“I thought he sounded strange when we spoke. I’ll give you a brief report. An alien dreadnought attacked your way station. The dreadnought was Xesset. They are the same aliens who were escorting
Djamu
, and who were planning to take control of your planet. We fought them off. They damaged your station, and there are casualties, most of them fatal. We’ve mounted a search and rescue operation, to recover survivors and treat them for injuries, depressurization or starvation. We’re being assisted by an Alliance destroyer—they’ve landed a hundred marines, and we’ve got over two hundred of our people on the station. We’re working our way from the docking arm through to the station core. So far, we’ve rescued two hundred plus and have recovered over five hundred bodies. We expect to find more survivors in the center. We’ve re-started the repair bots.”

“Damnation. We had no idea of what had happened. The station went dead, yeah. No communications. We’ve had turmoil on the planet; all our data centers were corrupted by some kind of virus.”

Steg didn’t think it would be constructive to mention the Intel team had been responsible for releasing the software that had caused the system failures. “We’re assisting there, also. We’ve been training your operators, showing them how to clean their systems.”

“I heard that, yeah. Now can you keep me informed of the progress of your search and rescue operation? I’d like to hear from station management or from our naval people, yeah.”

“We’ll keep you informed. Someone will update you twice a day, with progress on-station. As for your frigates—I’ve got one of your captains under arrest. He kidnapped three of our crew and tortured one of them. I haven’t yet had reports on whether your frigates survived the alien attack.”

“You arrested one of our frigate captains? By what right—?”

“We had to raid your frigate to recover our people. Your captain was being blackmailed by Ser Bedwyr to find out what we were doing. I don’t know his name. I’ve been too busy fighting aliens to worry about him. I authorized his arrest, and if necessary, I’ll push him out an airlock and he can breathe vacuum.”

“What? No, don’t do that. One of those captains is my cousin; I don’t want to report to my family that you executed him, yeah.”

“He said his sister is addicted; that’s how Bedwyr got leverage.”

“I think you have the other one. My cousin doesn’t have a sister. Let me know details. If possible, I’d like to speak to the man you arrested, yeah.”

“We have more important issues. We’re helping you recover your way station. We’ll raise an invoice for services rendered.”

“I suppose we can—”

“Search and rescue is free. Except for our ship’s supplies. No, I’ve got a proposal for you. I’ll arrange for the Alliance skipper to send a copy of his operational report to your president. He’ll confirm we destroyed an alien dreadnought, which was attacking your way station. They made quite a mess of it; the station will be inoperative for three, four months, or longer, depending how you handle repairs and the rebuild. I suspect your frigates are damaged or destroyed. Currently, your way station is unprotected. We’ll manage its repair. You provide the workers, bots, and materials. We’ll provide security against pirates and other possible attackers.
Wasp
will run the way station, handle inbound starships, provide security, support you as required. You need this stability to help you recover. The Alliance skipper has agreed to lend us missile pods, which
Wasp
can use to defend both the station and Eos against possible attacks. There’ll be rules for their help. What do you say?”

“I recognize the needs, yeah. I’m worried about the costs.”

“We’ll make sure costs aren’t excessive. Do we have a basis for negotiation?”

“I’ll need to talk with people, yeah. Get me that action report as quickly as you can. Keep me updated with search and rescue activities. I’ll do my best to set up negotiations. Contact me in twenty-four hours, yeah.”

“Very well. Expect the Alliance files in the next hour. They’ll provide details of the attack on the way station and our destruction of the dreadnought. We’ll identify as best we can the survivors and bodies as we continue with our searches. I’ll find out the status of your frigates and other Eos ships docked at the way station and let you know.”

“Deal, yeah. Talk tomorrow. President’s office out.”

It was a week later and Steg was still waiting for an answer from the president or his aide. Media reports were not helpful; news of the attack on the way station by the Xesset had caused a range of violent dirtside reactions, and the politicians were in turmoil. As a result, communications were sparse and noncommittal. In the meantime, search and rescue operations on the way station were discovering more and more survivors, some close to death from injury or lack of atmosphere. The body count was increasing to alarming numbers. The marines from
Defender
together with
Wasp’s
mercenaries were working all hours and were close to exhaustion. At last Steg decided the silence from Eos was unacceptable. He arranged to meet with Dean and the marine major to share his worries.

“We’ve got issues, dirtside,” Steg said.

“Thought as much,” Dean said. “We need medical supplies, fresh food, and there are survivors who need urgent treatment and care beyond what we can do here.”

“I’ve been monitoring the medical issues. The Fain are overwhelmed,” Steg confirmed. “How much longer will Montrose keep
Defender
in the Eos system?” he asked Carter.

“He wants us to continue with this S and R. He won’t head away if we’re still finding survivors.”

“Good to know. What’s your estimate for clearing the rest of the core layers?”

Both men sighed. Dean said, “Every time we make an estimate, we uncover issues. This station was not well constructed.”

Carter said, “We’ve been reassessing our focus. We’ve concluded it’s too late for anyone in the upper levels; the Xesset destroyed that area. We’ve sent teams in, and they’ve found gaping holes, collapsed bulkheads, fallen beams, and few survivors. None, the last couple of days. Even the repair bots are struggling to find a way through. The body count is high.”

“We thought we should focus now on the lower core levels. We think we can do good there. We estimate it will take another week to check them all.”

“There’s still some freighters to inspect?”

“Just about done. Your Intel guys have been cleaning all the ship systems. Most have crew and officers on board, and they have supplies, water, atmosphere, and power. There’s a lot of repairs needed before they can travel, though.”

“The two frigates were destroyed?”

“Yes, the Xesset focused on them. Shot them to pieces. No survivors,” confirmed Dean.

“Are any of the surface transport ships ready to move survivors to dirtside for treatment? Should we use one of our shuttles? Or a
Defender
shuttle?”

“One of yours and one of ours, I suggest. Only one of the tugs is usable, we could use it to pull up fresh supplies.”

“The patients need to be transferred as soon as possible. I’d take an armed team—some of our mercenaries. We’ve no idea of the dirtside situation,” Steg said.

“That will move people off S and R, though. I know, we need to do it,” Dean said.

“Major, can you discuss this with Montrose, see if he’ll provide a shuttle and crew? We can configure one of our shuttles as a hospital ship by tomorrow morning, and I assume
Defender
can do something similar? In any event, it’ll be a rough ride; we don’t have proper ambulance shuttles. Tell him I plan to fly our light shuttle dirtside first, with fifteen of our marines, in case there’s unrest in the capital city. Maybe you should add five of your marines, or more if you want, to my flight. I’ll take over the central hospital and other facilities, if necessary.”

Dean said, “My concern is the more serious cases. Perhaps we can hold them here rather than subjecting them to that trip? Maybe you could bring some Eos medicos back with you?”

“I’ll ask Stacia for a head count. She’ll know who we can move. Her team can list what medical supplies they need, and the number of doctors and nurses they could use.”

Steg tried again to contact the president’s office. The call went unanswered. He left a voice message advising he planned to deliver four shuttle loads of injured way station personnel to Eos City for hospital treatment. It was, he thought, extremely odd that the politicians did not appear to be interested in their way station nor in the condition of survivors. He identified the senior surgeon at the central city hospital and called him. He spoke with an assistant who immediately disconnected the call when Steg said he needed emergency assistance for wounded survivors from the way station. Subsequent calls went to a recording, which stated no one was available to speak with him. He decided he would, if necessary, take over the hospital in order to ensure the survivors received proper treatment.