A Secret Quest Read online

  “How can that be? He has to be doing one or the other.”

  “Crewman Lambert is currently not standing. Crewman Lambert is...”

  Before the computer voice was able to finish the sentence, Hastings realized his folly. In a shot, he darted away from the control panel and raced down the corridor.

  “...dead.”

  The colonel reached the engine room in record time. Chief Waters and his men watched curiously as Hastings darted by on his way to station three, which was located in the back of the engine room on a lower sub-section.

  As he rounded the corner and quickly climbed down the short set of stairs, Hastings eyes caught sight of Lambert. He was lying face-down in the corner. As feared, he was completely motionless.

  Without thinking, Hastings began to roll the poor man onto his back. There was a desperate chance that Lambert was still alive, although it would have to be just barely since the ship's computer wasn't able to detect any vital signs. But any hopes were quickly dashed when the colonel reached out to check the crewman's pulse only to stop his hand before he could press it against the man's neck.

  “What the hell did you get yourself into, Lambert?” Hastings muttered as his eyes caught sight of what robbed the young crewman of his life.

  On the side of Lambert's neck was an open hole that looked to be seared and burnt. If the colonel didn't know any better, he'd swear Lambert had been shot in the neck with some sort of energy weapon. But that would have triggered the ship's internal sensors immediately. Whatever it was that killed Lambert had to have been placed under the skin and activated remotely. Hastings had never seen anything like it before.

  “Holy shit, Colonel!” came a voice from behind. It was Chief Waters who came to see what caused the colonel to go rushing by him in the first place. “Is that Lambert?”

  “Yeah...” Hastings replied with his eyes still fixed on his gruesome discovery.

  “That looks like someone set off a blast chip.”

  “A blast chip?” the colonel asked as he finally turned to face the chief.

  “Yeah,” Waters answered with a slight nod, “I've heard stories about those things. They set off a chemical reaction when triggered. Burns the flesh so there isn't any blood.”

  With a glance over to the console, Hastings tried to get a better picture of what transpired here. The computer said that Lambert's last input was encrypted, but that doesn't mean he was the one who entered it. Anything entered into the workstation would be considered input, regardless of the source. Even a command executed remotely would be considered input.

  “You said these things could be triggered remotely, did you hear anything odd?” Hastings inquired as he tried to get a better grip on the situation.

  “Me and the other guys didn't really hear anything, Colonel.” Waters offered.

  “But...” he continued, “that doesn't mean anything. Blast chips can be set off any number of ways. Hell, maybe it was something he saw that triggered it.”

  Of course! Once again, Hastings cursed himself for being a fool. It was so clear now. As suspected, Lambert wasn't sending a message, he was receiving one. That encrypted message must be what caused the chip in his neck to activate. Once Lambert cast his eyes on the monitor and saw the message, it was over with. He was dead before he ever hit the floor. It was the oldest rule of espionage: Kill the saboteur and leave no trace.

  But the elephant in the room wouldn't remain quiet any longer and the chief just had to ask, “but why would someone want to kill Lambert? What did he do?”

  “Those are very good questions, Chief. And I plan on finding out.”

  “Do you think he was the one who messed with the ship's systems? Did someone pay him to?”

  “I don't know.”

  The colonel understood that Waters was curious and had many questions, but that would just detract from his job of fixing the star-drive. Hastings needed the chief to be focused. It was best to end this encounter quickly and allow the work to continue.

  “Thanks for the help, Chief. You've been very informative.” Hastings said while he rose to his feet, grunting as he did.

  “Not a problem, sir. Happy to be of help.”

  Looking once more down at the poor man lying on the floor, Hastings asked, “how far have you gotten with our star-drive problem?”

  “We're working on it, sir. But it's a mess in there. The entire code is a mess.” the chief replied.

  “Did you find any viruses or malicious software?”

  “That's just it, sir.” Waters informed, “If it was foreign software, the system would have detected that and isolated the problem.”

  “So what is it, then?”

  “Well, it's like the software was re-coded from the inside to destroy itself over time. Not just the FTL systems, but all the backups we have. We can't just restore the affected code like we normally would, because there's nothing there to restore. It's gonna take us a while to get it all sorted out, sir.”

  The colonel turned his gaze sternly on the chief and said, “you have two hours to get it fixed, Chief.” before he headed out the way he entered.

  Of course Hastings was well aware that there was little to no chance of the chief getting the star-drive fixed in just two hours. But time was a precious commodity that they could ill afford to waste. The colonel was sure Waters would come up with something by then; whether it was an old backup stashed somewhere or a workaround to the mess in the code, there had to be something that could be done without having to reprogram the system from the ground up. It could take more than a quarter cycle just to code the bare-bones structure of the star-drive. So that wasn't an option.

  With the death of Lambert, there were now even more questions than there were before. If he really was the culprit, then who was paying him to betray his own people? Whoever it was had to have very deep pockets, indeed. The ability to bankroll a saboteur and raiders doesn't come cheap, not to mention the device that seemingly ended the crewman's life. If the source was inside the Empire, then that could explain a great deal. Certain large corporations had been able to penetrate the hollowed halls of the IGC before. There was a chance one had been able to do so again.

  Worse still, it could be a foreign power. Although the Empire was on friendly terms with nearly all of the nearby regions and governments, each of those governments were working towards their own goals. The game was a simple one: Play nice in face-to-face confrontations and then, behind the scenes, do anything you could to get an advantage over everyone else. The colonel had witnessed both Tyra and the princess do just that on more than one occasion.

  But to stoop to sabotage? That was something else entirely. Surely another power in the region wouldn't risk committing an act of war against the Empire. That would be utter lunacy. Even if they were somehow aware of the hyper-gate technology being developed, it would be best to sit back and let the Empire to all the work and when the gates were perfected, they could just reap the rewards through increased trade or other means. Of all the different races in the galactic region, only the reclusive Ikaranites might be capable of such a thing. There wasn't much known about them, but what was known didn't bode well for the Empire's chances in an open conflict.

  The Ikaranites controlled a vast area of space that was more than twice the size of the Durantalian Empire. They were thought to be more technologically advanced in some areas, especially ship design and star-drives. They were ruled by a body known only as the Cabal who dictated the swarms of Ikaranites' every move and action. If they had somehow managed to learn of the Empire's plans, then everything was far worse than Hastings feared.

  It was just a hypothesis at this point, but the idea did have credence. He knew it was a group with enough money to finance men and equipment, and the ability to infiltrate the crew of the private vessel of Princess Dyamatti. They had to have enough reach to be able to enact plans from outside the Empire's borders, or even outside their own borders, if it was a foreign power. Not to mention the fact
that whoever it was had to have spies inside the Empire's inner-most circles of government. Those facts alone pointed to something bigger than just a corporation trying to pad its coffers. It had to be something bigger. Hastings was sure of it. But until he had his proof, his idea would have to remain a hypothesis.

  It wasn't long until Zelinski and his men had secured the facility, allowing both the princess and councilman an opportunity to escape their confines and roam the immediate area, albeit briefly, and under heavy guard. It was quite evident that the mining colony had been abandoned for many Cycles and there was very little left of value for anyone to take. Nearly all of the buildings and storage areas had been raided by looters; leaving behind only scraps and junk for anyone else who might happen by. The only thing of note from Zelinski was a report about a pair of men, father and son, who were trying to extract a pittance of valuable ore from what was left in the mine. Hastings deemed the pair to be a minimal threat, but decided to have them watched by his men, just in case they did try something foolish. It would have been unwise to take any chances, he reasoned.

  The pair of men were apparently the owners of the old ship that was also docked at the mining colony. When they were making their way back to it, carrying their minuscule bounty, the two happened to come upon both the councilman and the princess as they stretched their legs near the docking ring.

  The younger of the two men immediately dashed over to the princess' party. He instantly recognized her and was eager to meet one of the most vaunted royals in all the Empire. In that instant, he never even bothered to question why one the the Empire's royals would be so far beyond the border.

  The guards eyed the man warily as he rapidly approached; their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons. The young man fell to his knees and deeply bowed his head so rapidly that he slid on his knees for a few centimeters from the momentum. Instantly weapons were drawn and aimed at the young man kneeling on the ground.

  “Your Highness!” he cried out. “Please, I'm not a danger. I just wanted to meet you.”

  “It's alright gentlemen.” Dyamatti said in her smooth diplomatic tone. “The man is clearly no threat to us. Lower your weapons.”

  Dyamatti stepped forward through the defensive ring of men that protected her and said, “Please rise, sir, and greet me properly.”

  The guards slowly lowered their weapons, but still kept their eyes fixed on him. These men were the absolute best that Alpheena had to offer, and they knew better than to lower their guard, even if the situation seemed perfectly normal.

  From behind, the older man came walking and a slower pace. His booming voice carried out across the area, “Dash!” he called out, “Get away from there! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  The younger man rose to his feet, though his eyes still refused to gaze directly into those of the princess mere meters from him. “It's okay, Da!” he shouted back.

  The older man approached his son from behind, saying as he did, “One of these days you're gonna get your damn head blown off, you know that?”

  If the young man called Dash heard his father's words, he gave no acknowledgment. Instead, he addressed the beautiful woman before him. “Your Highness, my name is Dash Rendarac.”

  “I'm very pleased to meet you Dash Rendarac.” the princess replied, trying to offer as soothing of a smile as she could. “I'm princess...”

  “Her Royal Highness, Princess Dyamatti of the family, Tunos.” Dash hastily interrupted. “Heir to the throne of Alpheena. Yes, Princess. Everyone knows who you are. And I'm a huge admirer.”

  “That's very kind of you, Dash.” Dyamatti replied while she stretched out her hand towards the young man.

  Once more, Dash dropped to his knees and bowed his head. He swiftly grabbed the princess' outstretched hand and pressed his lips softly against the jeweled ring on her finger, saying, “Your Highness, I am but your humble servant.”

  Dyamatti cast an awkward stare at the man and gave a glance over to Tyra, who snickered at the sight. “Why do they always do that?” she asked.

  “You're meant to shake her hand, young man.” the old councilman offered, trying not to chuckle.

  “Shit, I'm sorry.” Dash replied, seeing his error and quickly popping back to his feet. “I mean...err...yes, sir.”

  Dash's father scolded his son, “she don't wanna hear no talk like that, boy! Watch your words!”

  “It's quite alright. And what might your name be, sir?” Dyamatti asked the older man.

  “Name's Rip.” he answered, “I'm his father.”

  “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Rip.” The princess returned, offering a slight nod of her head as she did. “What brings the two of you to this remote location?”

  “We're just scavenging, Highness.” Dash blurted out before his father could offer a response. “Our ship is old and always needs some kind of part or another. We take what we can and hope it fits.”

  “Is there a problem with your ship?” Dyamatti asked.

  This time, before the awe-struck young man was able to formulate a reply, his father quickly jumped in and said, “It ain't nothing, Highness. Our ship's just old, is all. We have to make little repairs to her all the time.”

  “I see.” the princess replied, making note of the man's coyness.

  “You gentlemen seem to be a long way from home. Do you often scavenge outside the Empire's borders?”

  “That's how we make a living, Highness.” Dash answered. “It ain't much, but at least we don't go hungry most nights.”

  To both men's amazement, the conversation had gone on far longer than expected. They both thought their encounter with the princess would be extremely brief at best. She was a busy woman with many important duties, after all. Why would one such as her want to spend more than a few seconds conversing with a couple of common rabble?

  Unbeknownst to Rip and Dash was the fact that Dyamatti often enjoyed talking to what she deemed 'regular folk'. On a person-to-person basis, or even in a small group, it was something the princess wished she could do much more than she was able to. She found the experiences refreshing.

  Once more, to the surprise of both men, Dyamatti chose to continue the conversation further. “Which of the provincial planets do you call home?” she asked them.

  “We're from Farlocke, Your Highness.” Dash freely volunteered, though he could tell his father was beginning to get a bit anxious from the encounter. A prolonged presence in front of those he didn't feel equal to made the older man uncomfortable. Although he was trying his absolute best not to show it.

  Dyamatti gave an understanding nod and said, “That would seem to make sense, given your line of work. Farlocke is closest to the border.”

  “Oh, we didn't start scavenging until long after we moved there, Highness.” Dash once more volunteered. “I was born and raised on Tendarg. Da used to work at one of the orbital factories.”

  “She don't wanna know our life's history, boy!” Rip scolded. “She's got way more important things to do than hear our drivel.”

  Rip grabbed his son buy the shoulder as if he was laying his hands on a set of flight controls, saying as he did. “We've taken up enough of your time. We'll let you get back to your business. It was a real pleasure meeting you, Highness.” and he began to usher the boy away.

  “You as well.” Dyamatti politely offered to the men.

  Although the encounter could have gone on just a bit longer, the princess felt that it went rather well. Most of the time the people that she was allowed to meet were usually to dumbstruck by her presence to do anything more than incoherently ramble. But these two men were actually able to carry on a decent conversation with her. She found it to be quite pleasant. It allowed her to pretend that she was just one of the normal folk that she very often so envied. At least for a short time.