Chapter 18 - And the Dayes Deep Midnight Is
Naval dispatch 123086
RLS Legacy
CO Capt. Amelia
Rebel threats
Intelligence indicates rebel movement in vicinity. Elevated alert status recommended. Extreme caution to be exercised. Safety of Ambassador and delegation top priority.
Adm. Boone RNC022489
Naval dispatch 123087
Royal Navy
CO Adm. Boone
Re: Rebel threats
Having taken your recommendations under advisement, it is the assessment of this captain that the rebel faction has been advised of our route. Skirmishes and shadowing have become frequent of late and the enemy is too aware of our next move. It is the opinion of this captain that a possible mole has been planted in our organization.
Capt. Amelia RLS022492
The darkness that seemed eternal in the vast expanse of the Etherium served a greater purpose this particular evening, as it provided an effective cloak for the shadowy movements of a covered figure as he made his way across the darkened deck of the Legacy. Not a soul crept about at the late hour, except for the lone man, coat pulled tightly around his body, head dipped low in an effort to mask his features.
The routine was exercised frequent and one he had perfected with precision – first on the home world, later on Montressor and now here, on the decks of the infamous Legacy. The tales regarding this ship, her captain and its crew had not been exaggerated. He was impressed with the meticulous leadership of Captain Amelia. Her actions thus far had only served to reaffirm the truth in what had been said about her. It was disheartening to work against her, under a web of deception, but he had no choice. After all, like she, he was merely an instrument of his government, a pawn used to gain victory for his home world's eventual independence.
But to gain that freedom, he and his actions would have to remain unnoticed. To be seen would mean too many questions – questions that he could not provide adequate answers for. Fortunately, a long day had dictated the crew retiring earlier than usual. And although security personnel were still posted throughout the ship, he was easily able to blend within the shadows and not draw attention.
The corridor ahead of him was dim, the flickering light cast from a lamp at the junction of another corridor barely providing enough light to be seen. Casting his eyes behind him and then once more down the corridor, he checked one last time to make certain no one was around. Satisfied that he was indeed alone, he slipped his fingers around the doorknob and slowly turned it, wincing as the creaking wood echoed around him, before slipping inside to begin his transmission.
XXX
He knew he should probably be in his quarters poring over the star charts Dr. Doppler had given him to prepare for tomorrow's briefing, but Roderick couldn't convince his stomach of that – not when he'd missed dinner and definitely not at 0200 knowing there was a barrel of fresh purps stowed away in the galley. Besides, he reasoned, a few purps wouldn't be missed by anyone and the nourishment would keep him alert. The more alert he was, the better he could focus on those star charts. Yeah, he decided. That line of logic worked quite well for him.
Maintaining a low profile, the young cadet snaked through the corridors, careful to not let his footfalls be heard. While taking a few purps wasn't technically wrong, he didn't want to have to justify his reasoning to the cook or, even worse, the Captain. He'd had quite enough run-ins with her lately, thank you very much.
His mind replayed his latest encounter with the formidable woman and he smiled recalling her final words to him. He could be wrong, but he got the feeling there was a chance – granted a small one – that the Captain actually liked him. He'd have to get her a hot lattoid in the morning. He'd seen her nursing one after every staff meeting. Maybe that'd help dispel the last remnants of any doubts she had about him.
"Yeah," he muttered. "That'll do the trick. She can … what the heck?" He stopped, his attention drawn to a light coming from beneath the door of the communications center. 'Who's transmitting at 0200?' he wondered silently. 'Especially when we're supposed to be under blackout.'
He moved closer to investigate.
XXX
The room was dark save for the lone glare off the comm station and the man sitting in front of the screen preferred that way. The fewer questions raised the better. Unfortunately, his counterpart on the end of the line seemed intent on asking question after question.
"What are their forces? I need numbers, counts. How many fighters are they sending?" The disembodied voice floated through the room and echoed off the walls.
The man sighed. "There are no fighters. How many times must I tell you this? "They're merely sending a delegation. One ship."
"One ship? One ship will not be a problem."
"The Legacy is renowned for its speed and ability in battle and Captain Amelia is one of the finest captains in the fleet."
"Really." The voice was not impressed.
"The Royal Navy reactivated her commission specifically for this mission."
"I hardly see how a female captain can stand in the way of our plans."
"This is the same Captain Amelia that faced the Damorians and the Procyon fleets and escaped relatively unscathed."
The voice on the other line sounded hesitant. "The Captain Amelia that decimated their fleets?"
"One and the same."
"She is a very skilled sailor and her tactical knowledge vastly exceeds most in the fleet," the voice pondered aloud. "Her presence here could make our tasks more difficult than we expected."
The rebel informant shook his head in disagreement. "I don't think so, sir. Her presence here is merely meant as a deterrent. I hardly think --"
"Her presence here is more than just a mere deterrent. She was brought here because she is a powerful adversary. If the Royal Navy believes their delegation will be attacked, they will want the best to defend it. I have no doubt that the Captain has already formulated a battle plan."
"Sir, I think you are reading far too much in to the Fleet's presence, but I will defer to your wishes," the man conceded with a soft sigh of frustration.
"See that you do."
The line went blank and as a static hum buzzed softly through the room, the rebel ran a hand across his tired brow. This was becoming too involved. Too intricate for his taste. It was supposed to be a simple matter of discouraging the Empire from maintaining a presence in the sector until their plans were complete and Ronan free from off-world rule.
Sighing, he stood up and powered the terminal down. He would do as he was asked. That was what he was best at – blind obedience.
XXX
While Roderick hadn't been specifically told not to use the communications system, he hadn't quite been told that he could, and he might be wrong, but he was pretty sure that Captain Amelia had ordered two-way silence for the time being. Intrigued, he pressed his ear closer to the door, straining to make sense of the hushed voices speaking on the opposite side of the heavy wooden door.
From his somewhat sketchy-vantage point, Roderick was able to make out the words "Legacy," "government" and what he thought might possibly be "overthrow." He took a step back and swallowed hard. If he was hearing what he thought he was hearing, he had just been privy to rebel plans. That meant that who was ever inside that room was the government leak who'd been supplying the rebels with classified information. His attention snapped back the room as the sound of a console being powered down was made obvious. A chair scraped across the floor as it was pushed back, and Roderick quickly scanned his surroundings for a possible hiding place.
As the footsteps echoed closer, he decided to duck into the utility closet mere feet away. His hand snaked around the edge of the door and pulled it shut, save for an inch for him to peek out. He had just slid his fingers back inside the darkened area when the sound of the creaking hinges of the communications door squeaked open.
Roderick strained to see who emerged from the communications room. He couldn't quite make out the features. It was a man, he was certain of that. But what man? The voice was familiar, but not too familiar. He had heard him speak before. But where? Frustration flooded through him. He knew he had heard something important, but without any concrete evidence, without hard facts, he couldn't approach the Captain. He had tried her good graces enough times. He didn't think it would be wise to stretch them any further.
He listened and waited until he was certain the footfalls were gone before emerging from the utility closet. Walking to the communications room, he gave the doorknob a gentle twist. It turned in his hand and the door opened with a low creak. He looked around. The room was empty. Perhaps if he got close enough, he might be able to find a clue, something to uncover the possible traitor's identity and his intentions. He fired up the console and tried to pull up the previous subspace message. Nothing. No logs. No traces. Whoever had been in here obviously knew what he was doing. He'd effectively erased his tracks.
"Blast!" Roderick cursed in frustration. He bit his lower lip and concentrated. Who could it have been? Scrolling through the logs proved useless. The only person who'd sent anything recently had been Ambassador Wellington, and it was addressed to the Ambassadorial Emporium.
His fingers danced over the control panel searching for clues as to who had just logged off. Nothing. He was about to access a different system when the tell-tale creaking of the door bounced off the back wall of the room.
"Bags!" His eyes darted back and forth, quickly trying to ascertain a place to hide. An access panel stood slightly ajar in the far corner. Could he make it? The footsteps were at the other end of the room, and the near blackness would most likely conceal him. He gave a short sigh of frustration and then made a decision. Quickly creeping across the slick floor, he edged his way to the panel as the footfalls moved closer to the console.
Ducking in to the open hatchway, he pulled his knees close to his chest and held his breath, hoping that he would remain unseen. The darkness provided little opportunity for him to make out the figure standing in front of the console. Whoever it was knew exactly what they were looking for. He heard a slight shuffling of papers and decided to take advantage of the noise, pushing the hatch door open slightly in the hopes of being able to see better. He pressed an eye to the door and squinted, trying to make out the shadowed figure. The man turned and Roderick nearly yelped as the muted light from the terminal settled on the darkened visage of Ambassador Wellington. He swallowed his gasp of surprise and reached for the small utility knife secured on his belt without conscious thought of doing so. He watched in muted shock as Wellington tapped away on the console below. After what seemed an eternity, the sound of a metal chair scraping against the console base echoed through the room as Wellington rose from his seat and moved away, his heavy footsteps headed for the door.
Roderick waited, impatiently, for the sound of the door shutting at the far end of the room before making his way from his impromptu shelter. He twisted his neck side to side and groaned, grumbling about the need for larger storage as he made his way to the door. Prying it open a mere inch, he slid an eye to the crack of light and tried to peer down the corridor. Nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, he opened the door and stepped out, turning back to it to close it softly. He'd made it without being seen. Now if only he could figure out what the Ambassador had been --
"Cadet?"
The question, uttered in a soft tone, startled poor Roderick more than if the entire Procyon Armada had just shown up at his dormitory to administer his end-of-the-year finals. He whipped around, eyes wide in fear and threw his hands out to defend himself from whatever attack lay before him.
Delbert lifted a brow in amused derision. "Perhaps a lattoid or two less in the evening would help to decrease the rather large quantity of energy you seem to possess at the moment, Mr. Roderick."
The young cadet exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging with relief as he realized it was only his mentor who stood before him and not the leader of a rebel faction waiting to dispose of him.
"Cadet?" Doppler leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing in concern at the young man before him.
Roderick shifted nervously; his eyes darting back and forth as he silently debated whether he should reveal what he had seen. Uncertainty warred with the high esteem in which he regarded Doppler. Finally, esteem won out and he lowered his head closer to Delbert.
"I heard someone discussing rebellion plans in the Comm station tonight," he whispered.
"Rebellion plans?"
"Yeah, like plans to sabotage our negotiations with Ronan.
"Are you certain?" The grave look Delbert gave him was not lost on the young cadet. He knew how serious the allegations he was making were.
"I'm certain, sir. I, uh, sort of listened through the door," he admitted with a sheepish look.
Delbert frowned. "Through the door?" he muttered. "That door is quite thick. Perhaps you misunderstood what you thought you heard."
Roderick rolled his eyes. "It's kinda' hard to misunderstand "rebellion," "sabotage," "Legacy" and "Amelia."
The latter caught Doppler's attention immediately. "Amelia! What did they say about Am ... the Captain?" he asked anxiously.
"I don't know. I had to hide in the closet at that point."
"The closet?"
Roderick shrugged. "I think whoever was in there must've heard me, because they shut down the system pretty quick. The closet was the closest place to hide."
"Ah, I see." Doppler bit his lower lip in thought.
"I know what I saw, sir, and I saw the Ambassador return to the Comm center only moments after that conversation."
"I don't doubt you, but we can't approach Ame ... uh, that is, the Captain on such circumstantial evidence. We need more proof."
Roderick's mouth opened in surprise. "But Doctor, I thought you hated the guy. He's been such a creep to you ever since coming on board."
"You won't get any argument from me on that matter, but he and Am … ah the Captain seem to have come to some sort of understanding. Besides, I still think we need more substantial evidence before pointing our fingers at Wellington. Despise him or not, he is still an Ambassador of the Fleet. We can't go around making unfounded accusations. Not unless we want to spend the rest of our careers working in the Montressor Space Theme Park giving constellation lectures to the kiddies." Delbert lifted an inquiring eyebrow in Roderick's direction as if to say, 'is that what you want, buddy boy?'
"No, sir. I see your point, sir. But what can we do to get evidence?"
Doppler paused, scratching an ear in thought before casting a hopeful glance at Roderick. "Do you have any evidence, any at all, linking the Ambassador to the communications room?"
The cadet suddenly became interested in his shoes, glancing down to the deck below and answering in a muffled, "Well ah, I kinda saw him sneaking back in."
Doppler's eyes widened. "Sneaking?"
"Well, I had to hide somewhere and when I peeked out he was at the control panel. He grabbed something, too."
"But you didn't what he grabbed?"
"Well, no, not exactly," Roderick admitted. "But maybe it was a frequency masker."
Delbert flexed his fingers. "That's no help, then. We can hardly make accusations based on assumptions can we?"
"Look! I know what I heard ... uh, sir." Roderick bit his lower lip in lieu of his mild outburst.
"I'm not, for a minute, questioning what you say you saw. I just tangible proof." Delbert scratched an ear in thought. "I suppose we could always lay in wait for the informant. Catch him in the act."
"But where? Trust me, Doctor; the closet isn't big enough for the both of us. Heck, it barely fit me."
"Hmm. Yes, I can see where that would be a problem."
"You're sure we can't tell the Captain?"
"Most definitely not. I don't want to worry her with something we cannot substantiate."
"Blast," Roderick sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "I hate knowing something's rotten but not being able to do anything about it."
Delbert favored him with a sympathetic smile. "So do I. But I'd rather be safe than sorry." He patted the young man on the shoulder and led him towards the galley. "Now if you're quite through with spying," he teased good naturedly, "I saw some fresh purps in the galley earlier. They'd make a splendid midnight snack, don't you think?"
Roderick grinned. "Definitely, sir."
"Good. Well then, be on your way and get back to work on those star charts. I expect a stellar report tomorrow," Doppler grinned, laughing at his slight play on words. It had the desired effect, though. Roderick laughed and headed down the corridor, leaving a pensive Doppler behind him.
Contrary to what he told young Roderick, Amelia would have to be informed of the course of events. He didn't like what he'd heard, and he was certain she wouldn't either.
To be continued …
A/N
The title for this chapter is taken from "A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy's Day" written by a prolific poet named John Donne. I highly recommend his work, especially Holy Sonnet X. Also, because this was a longer chapter, please understand that I probably won't be able to update until late next week. But, Chapter 20 is being written. As always, please review if you liked what you read. It's the only form of compensation any writer on and it means a great deal to each of us. Also, if you didn't like what you read, please leave constructive criticism so that I can make it better!