Chapter Sixteen

Twelve hours later the news reached Amagad.

Bella was awakened from her slumber by a knock on the office door, and with faltering steps she reached for her jacket and made her way to it, yawning as she went. She was expecting Jezzren, Glanns secretary, to greet her with the latest news. Instead she was faced with the chest regions of Himbimimam, filling the doorframe.

“This had better be good news.” She drawled wearily as she waved a hand to usher him into the office. Himbs followed, seating himself at the desk as Bella took the big chair. “What have you got for me?”

Himbs smiled.

“Good news. Great news.”

Bella wiped her eyes and leaned forward.

“About what?”

“The mission on Soluman.”

Bella began to grin. Good news, eh?

“Was it a success? Tell me it was a success.”

Himbs laughed and clapped his hands together loudly.

“It was a fantastic success! I just got a message from Nemec Niern. He said the job went down so well he doesn’t anticipate any more problems.”

Bella, still smiling, shook her head in shocked disbelief. Of course, the ball had always been in their court. Glann set the trap; he’d planted the seeds for the destruction of the enemy. But Bella never realised that it would succeed the way it had.

Until now.

“What happened? How did they do it?”

Himbs glanced out of the window at the early morning bustle of Amagad City, the birds gliding out to sea across the Bay of Amagad. Tranquillity at sea.

“Melm took Glanns star cruiser. Glann had it rigged to self-destruct in the event of capture. Melm programmed three droids to land the cruiser in the midst of the enemy, fooling the ships computer into thinking it had been captured. So, the self-destruct system activated and the ship exploded!”

Bella nodded.

“Along with anything else nearby. Clever thinking.” Bella paused while she ruffled her hair. “Of course, Glanns going to be annoyed when he learns that the Heart of Amagad has been destroyed.” She smiled again. “Oh well. It was only a ship.” Easing herself to her feet she made her way to the window and the sunlight streaming in from the dazzling sun. “The others. Dressel, Tasar, Formoon. Did they survive?”

“Niern thinks so. Apparently Grin spotted some ships parked next to Treeces Star Destroyer. It was likely them.”

Bella nodded. It was unlikely that any of the five ganglords involved would risk their lives by being on the surface. She was still surprised that they had fallen for the ploy at all. Cipple’s intelligence agents had leaked reports off the Repressor. Their opposing consortium had raised their own doubts, and the operation almost never made it to Soluman at all. Thank the gods that it did, thought Bella.

Smiling, she turned back to Himbs seated behind the desk. Gods apart, there was still much to be done. Someone had initially stolen the information from Glann and Bella had sworn to track down the thief. So far she had been unsuccessful. But since his return to Amagad with Shadow Weale, Himbimimam had buried himself deep into the process of digging out their Naaven, their mole. But she was confident that it would it be soon, now that the operation on Soluman had failed.

“Your search for our mole. How have you been getting on?”

Himbs reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of flim. Laying it out onto the table, he flattened it with his massive hand and began pointing out pertinent facts.

“We almost have our Naaven. This here is the information, stolen on the night in question and taken away from the Fortress.” He pointed to an icon of a disk. “That information was handed over to a courier, who bought transport and made his way to Chancai. Strangely enough, the courier was Nester Torr.”

Bella raised her eyebrows at this.

“Nester Torr? Brother of Naaven Torr?”

“The very same.” Himbs continued, pointing at the map and another icon, this time of a pyramid-shaped building. Chancai. “The recipient of the information was Grand Moff Den Treece.”

Bella nodded. It was no surprise.

“That makes sense. He’s always hated Glann.”

“Treece is, as we know, a wealthy man. But not wealthy enough to afford the one million credits the thief required to steal the disk. So, he took it.”

“From where? Bank of Zelon? Z.I.T.S’s? The Interest Society?”

“Even better. Imperial funds.”

Bella raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Really? That’s one hell of a risk, even for a Grand Moff.”

“True, and he knew it. Treece realised that he couldn’t chase Glann around the galaxy. Personal vendettas aren’t in the Imperial charter. So in order to bring Glann down he had to find people wealthy enough, angry enough and smart enough to do it for him. That’s where our five ganglords come in.”

Bella frowned as she seated herself and grabbed two glasses.

“How did he contact them?”

“He didn’t. They contacted him. Treece set up an auction, selling the information on the black market. He took the five highest bidders, told them the price was two hundred thousand credits and sold them the information.”

“Two hundred thousand credits. Nice. So, now he’s got five men with fathomless resources trying to break down the code on the disks and find out where the Sunrise team is headed…”

“And what they’re looking for.” Interjected Himbs with a smile. “Glann had been very clever. He knew that one day someone would succeed in stealing information from his computer, so he sweetened the disk with a deeply encoded trap. We think it was Formoon who found the Heed story on the 78^th level of encryption. He told the others, which was the best thing that could have happened.”

Bella nodded.

“It made the others even more eager to discover the location.”

“Right. And they would have found it, eventually. But losing contact with the Sunrise team accelerated matters. Thanks.” He took the glass of whiskey Bella had poured and took a sip. “Glann knew that if the apparent location of the Heed was Soluman, then Treeces agents would race there to beat the Sunrise. And thinking that Jans team was dead, he saw no reason to delay the activation signal.”

“But Jan’s team wasn’t dead.”

Himbs nodded.

“No. We were just massively inconvenienced.” Himbs winced at the memory. “The Sunrise should have rendezvoused with more agents on Cantarr Bi Romou, but it was wiser to carry onto Luronsa IV and pick up Feese for extra protection. So, Jan went to Luronsa with his team and everyone else went to Soluman. And the rest is history.”

Bella smiled again and refilled the glasses. It had been a success. A messy one, but a victory nonetheless. Her only concern was for Glann, who was making his way to Abrogard, labouring under the false assumption that the Sunrise team had been eliminated. He would be in for a shock when he arrived and found Jan Lomona waiting for him. But not as much of a shock as Jan would get when he saw Glann. Oh to be a fly on the wall…

“So, our mole. Who is it?”

“You’re not going to like it. And neither is Glann. Especially Glann.”

Bella shook her head in slow confusion. This sounded bad. Really bad. If Himbs had truly discovered the mole, then it would surely be a cause for celebration, nothing less.

“The mole Himbs. Tell me.” At that moment the door chimed again and Bella thumbed the intercom. “Yes?”

“It’s Jezzren. I have your early morning Konekone for you.”

Bella smiled and hit the door release just as Himbs lashed a hand out to stop her, but she was too quick.

“What the?" Bella threw a fierce glance at Himbs as his hand wrapped around her wrist and a confused face at Jezzren entering the office with a blaster in each hand and an apologetic look on his face. Bella tensed and Himbs, looking directly at her could see the danger of the situation in her eyes. Jezzren back kicked the doors shut and stepped into the room.

“Sorry for the intrusion. I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation from the next room.” He smiled nervously as he looked down at the two blasters in his hands. “We’re fresh out of Konekone. Will a shot of this do?”

“Jezzren…” Bella trailed off, slipping her hand out of Himbs’ grip and falling back into the chair. The shock and betrayal on her face was apparent. Himbs slowly straightened, raising his long prehensile arms above his head. Jezzren sidled around the room to the large console on the right of the room.

“You can sit Himbs. Just don’t move.” His voice faltered, his brow a swathe of sweat. Lowering one of the guns he deftly began punching instructions into the computer. Bella licked her dry lips.

“Why are you doing this Jezzren? You’ve been with us for fifteen years. Why betray us now?”

Jezzren paused a second to look at Bella. His eyes looked haunted.

“It’s simple really. Credits. Money. I want to retire somewhere out of the sector. I want to take my wife and children to a place we can really call home.” He shrugged and finished his work at the console, moving into the centre of the room. “I’ve practically lived that office for fifteen years. I’ve seen and heard things that no man should ever know about. I want out.”

Himbs frowned as he sensed a rumble, then the vibrations of a vehicle and finally the sight of a swoop lowering itself into view outside the window. Two of the glass window-panels automatically swung open and Jezzren edged towards them. Bella flashed a confused glance at Himbs, which Jezzren spotted.

“You’re wondering about the security systems? Don’t bother. I de-activated those days ago. The Shadow Warriors that aren’t on Soluman or with Glann are safely secured on the fourth level. I have a ship waiting for me and a million credits in the bank gathering interest.” He stepped onto the window ledge, pointing the nozzle at Himbs as the Imbam began to move out of his seat. “Tell Glann my resignation letter is waiting for him in his computer. He might need a decryption team to find it, but it’s there.”

The swoop hovered near enough for the former secretary to jump out, and seconds later he was in and winging his way towards the mountains. Himbs relaxed his arms and shook his head in disbelief at Bella, who was rubbing her temples with her eyes closed.

“What did I say about everything going according to plan?”

Commander Ooamlek had strenuously insisted otherwise, but Moff Treece had left Commander Lans in charge of the Repressor and Lans had decided to let the five ganglords leave. Ooamlek was lees than impressed, citing Lans’ own argument with the Moff about the need to improve morale by capturing such underground elements. But Lans stood firm. Concentrating on the five starships would only hinder the search for Moff Treece and on this, the third day after the destruction of Devlin’s Island, Lans needed all the concentration he could muster. Scans showed nothing but radiation. If Treece had managed to put down on one of the islands near to the remains of Devlin’s, then it was unlikely he would survive. Lans thought otherwise. Treece had come through the same training centre as he had, been subjected to the same teachings and teachers. He believed that the Moff lived and even though he would dearly like to see him dead for the indignities he had heaped upon him over the years Lans refused to leave until he had concrete evidence. Proof that the Moff was dead. He had no evidence either way.

“Sir,” A young ensign trotted over to where Commander Lans was surveying the night time oceans of Soluman from the bridge window. Breaking off from his thoughts he turned to face the eager young man.

“Ensign Me’carrar. News of the hunt?”

The ensign surprised that his acting commanding officer remembered his name, handed over the report.

“Yes sir. Our final scan is complete. We found no sign of the Captive.”

Lans scrutinised the report before him, tracing the wave lines of the readings for a sign of a power signature, or an anomalous reading. But there were none. Me’carrar continued.

“Commander Ooamlek requests we prepare for departure from Soluman and head back to the Yatchrare System.”

Lans nodded at the ensign and turned to face the azure swirls of the ocean below. Perhaps he was right. Was there any further purpose to be had from scanning the oceans for a sign of the Moff? This was the proof that he needed. Proof that the shuttle had been lost. He straightened his back and spun on his heel, marching over to where Commander Ooamlek was seated in one of the bridge pits and waited for his attention. Ooamlek glanced up.

“Yes sir?”

Lans took a deep breath.

“Commander Ooamlek. I hereby hand command of the Repressor back into your capable hands. My final command order is this.” He glanced at Soluman for the last time. “Set course for Zelon.”

Ooamlek smiled and saluted his fellow officer with a nod.

“With pleasure sir.”

The Hot Pursuit eased to a halt high over Entall and angled away from the main Bordon space lane that ran right beside the planets own traffic lanes. Her powerful lines, designed for speed and agility, were glowing in the sunlight given off by the powerful star of Entalle. Aboard, her owner Predd Jason lay slumped on the edge of his untidy bed. He’d been there for the last three days, ever since the island of Devlin had been annihilated by Glann Cipples exploding bomb of a star cruiser. An empty bottle lay loosely in his hand, a vid-screen crackled insistently in the corner. Even though he had made it safely back to the Setnin Sector in one piece, and surely in record time, he felt little comfort. Entall was one of his regular stop-off points, for information as well as recuperation.

He needed both, now more than ever.

Quietly, almost apologetically, the door knocked and in came his aide, Ladie. She stepped around the empty bottles and discarded food wrappers with a delicate tread and waited for his attention by the edge of his bed. With an apparently superhuman effort Jason raised his head.

“What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Ladie lowered her gaze to the floor. The female Rystall had never seen her employer in such a state. The failed job over Soluman had obviously been a terrible blow to him. She collected herself.

“There’s a message waiting for you. One of our agents in the Luronsa System sent it through.”

Jason waved her away with a growl.

“You take care of it.”

“I really think you should see it sir.”

“I said you take care of it!”

She paused, uncertain of what to do. As she exited from the room she moved over to the vid-screen, made a couple of adjustments and left. Jason rolled over, disturbed by the loss of the crackling static.

“Ladie. Ladie! Put the static back on.” He stopped yelling when the screen began to play back a pre-recorded message. He recognised the man. It was Lenk, one of his Luronsa IV operatives. What could he be so desperate to get in touch for? Jason grabbed the remote from the floor and nudged up the volume.

“…spotted the Berone Sunrise here on Luronsa IV. We all know how eager Gimo is to get off Luronsa. I don’t believe him sir, but he insisted you be told. He said,” Lenk leaned out of shot, reaching for a piece of flim. “Lomona was travelling with a young girl, his woman Frans Latka, and Carlonian Feese.”

Predd Jason shot off the bed. Feese was on Luronsa IV? Dammit, that explained a lot. Like where the hell Lomona was during all the fighting on Soluman.

“Like I said sir, highly unlikely. We told Gimo that the Berone Sunrise was on its way to Soluman, just like you said it was, but he wouldn’t believe us. We’ve been trying to get hold of him for the last few hours but he seems to be lying low. Probably doesn’t want to be reprimanded again.” Lenk threw away the flim. “That’s all for this report. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

The screen flickered and dimmed to darkness, without static. Jason stood and looked around the room. A mess, a total and utter mess. Someone would have to clean it all up, and soon. This past few weeks had probably been the most trying of his short career. Glann had certainly led them all on a merry dance. He waded through the mess towards the window, gazing at the peaceful green world of Entall below. It had been a trap. Sure, Gimo was a small-time operative trying to make his situation better, but the report made sense. More so, now that it was over. Predd Jason rested his forehead on the glass of the viewport and smiled.

Maybe it would seem better tomorrow.

Two, perhaps three hours of air left. Nothing more. If he could manage to kill the pilot there would be maybe four, even five hours. Then again, what’s the point? Death lay just around the corner, goading, teasing him with her black-toothed grin. What difference would a couple of hours make?

The pressure made his ears pop and his nosebleed. He had no idea how far the shuttle had fallen, but he knew that the co-pilot had died when they hit the water and after that they seemingly continued to drift down for an age. When they finally reached some sort of stop he’d surveyed their situation. It was grim. One dead, one injured and himself bruised and battered almost to a pulp. All main power had been knocked out by the electromagnetic pulse given off by the blast, and only the shielded back-up systems were working. In the half-lit cabin Treece had waited.

For three days.

His only possible chance was to scramble into one of the emergency space suits. Surely one of those would protect him from the depths and allow him to make it to the surface. He had spotted an island not too far from their crash site. Maybe he could make it there, get medical help and a call out to his people. It has to be worth a try.

Pulling himself painfully to his feet he managed to get across to one of the lockers. Yanking it open he peered inside. Two suits. One helmet. Sloppy inventory keeping by someone back on the Repressor. He glanced at the pilot, dozing in pain. His time would come sooner than he expected. Treece unclipped the suit from its housing and began to pull it on. Scant minutes later the suit was fitted, all seals secured and closed. He gave the helmet a good check, searching for any cracks or fractures that would split under duress. There were none. Placing the helmet onto his head he left the main cabin and made his way to the airlock.

He realised that there was only one way off the ship without being crushed by tonnes of ocean cascading inwards. Stepping into the cubicle-sized airlock he breathed deeply. The air was stale and dry, but breathable. Checking his instrumentation he waited, lowering the oxygen mix to avoid the bends. Satisfied that he had done all that he could he uttered a silent prayer and hit the airlock release.

And it all went silent.

Water hit him with a tremendous force, almost crushing him within the suit. The pressure scooped around him, ejecting him from the airlock and out into the ocean. It was like being stranded in deep space. The crushing pressure squeezed at his ribs like a vice, the numbing cold gripped him. Painfully he looked below as the water rapidly filled the airlock and broke through the door. He could barely make out the pilot being thrown out of his seat by the waters force and slamming into the shuttle window before the depths claimed the ship. Looking up he could make out the rising sun, warming the waters still far above. Shining above him like a beacon, leading him to glory. So close.

So close…