The Honour of the Knights - Stephen J. Sweeney (mobi reader android .txt) 📗

the security guards on Xalan Orbital had shown reluctance in tackling Chaz back then, Dodds knew that right now it would be like confronting a fifteen-hundred-pound grizzly bear.

“What's happened?” Dodds asked as the big man strode up.

“Barber's dead,” Chaz growled, not bothering to stop and causing Dodds to hurry along after him. “She's been taken to the infirmary.”

“We should let the others know.”

“Yes, you should,” was the blunt reply.

Dodds stopped walking at the comment. For the few months Dodds had known him, he had found that Chaz was generally a very quiet character. Every now and again he was moody, but easy to get along with when you got on the right side of him, even if he did have almost nothing to say. Watching the man's back retreating past him, Dodds figured that at this very moment there was no right side of Chaz to be on.

Under the circumstances, he decided it would be best to do as Chaz had suggested and soon rounded up the other Knights, who then, after consulting a floor plan, made their way towards the port's medical unit.

* * *

“Sound proof,” Dodds said as the doors to the infirmary swung closed behind the four men and women, dampening the sounds from the rest of the port.

“Probably to help the staff and the patients relax,” Enrique said.

“You're sure he came in here?” Estelle said. She had almost lost her mind when Dodds had informed her that Chaz had headed off to the infirmary alone and without consulting her. Not that there had been very much to discuss.

“Like I said, he seemed rather keen to get here,” Dodds said.

“See if you can lock the door,” Estelle ordered. Dodds did as he was told and after studying a panel next to the door he succeeded in securing it. The little clicking sound told him that it was not a very sturdy lock, more of a deterrent than anything else.

The Knights moved down various corridors in their search for Chaz and Barber, the whole place looking like a small hospital. They searched every waiting and examination room they came to, but found them empty, without any sign of their missing wingmate or the woman they had arrived at the station to meet. They then came to the mortuary.

“Are you okay?” Enrique said to Kelly as they approached the mortuary. Dodds, too, had noticed that she had not spoken to anyone whilst looking for Barber, and seemed to be in a world of her own.

“I'm fine, just a bit distracted,” Kelly said.

“Sure?”

“Yes. It's nothing,” she said after a moment's hesitation.

“You don't have to come in if you don't want to,” Dodds said, aware that Kelly was not good with dead bodies. No matter how many she saw, she could never get used to them, absurd visions and fears filling her head. The thought of walking into a morgue, knowing it to contain at least one body already, couldn't have been sitting too comfortably with her.

“No, we stay together,” Estelle interjected, before she heaved the heavy door of the mortuary open, revealing the scene within to all. There, standing over a gurney with his back to them, was Chaz. A sheet, stained with blood, lay on the floor at the foot of the table.

Estelle stopped just inside the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, displeasure written all over her face. Dodds took in the scene. Estelle was used to having Dodds and Enrique challenging her authority from time to time, but they did at least either fall back into line or back down. Chaz on the other hand had completely ignored her order to inform her of any developments in the search for Barber and not to take any action without first consulting her. She would not stand for his insubordination.

“Lieutenant Koonan, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Estelle asked, scowling at his back. Chaz did not turn around or react at all. Estelle glowered; now the man was ignoring her. “Lieutenant?” she said again. Chaz neither moved from where he stood, nor made any other sign to acknowledge her presence.

Dodds walked forward and came to stand next to Chaz, Estelle and Enrique following behind him. He looked down at the woman lying on the gurney, her eyes still open, dried blood staining her mouth and chin, her face very pale. Chaz's eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and sadness as he continued to stare down at the woman, his fists still clenched into tight balls by his sides.

Dodds looked around and saw that Kelly had taken few steps forward, making little effort to cross the threshold of the mortuary doorway. She gave him a look of deep concern as her eyes shifted from Barber to Chaz.

After a few moments, one of Chaz's hands left his side. Two fingers found their way to the woman's eyes and gently closed her eyelids.

“Does she have the data card?” Estelle asked.

Chaz continued to say nothing, and instead ran his fingers across Barber's cheek. It was as if he was saying goodbye.

Dodds saw Estelle mouth several curses, then, “We don't have time for this.”

Seeing the man as being disinterested in Estelle's questioning, Dodds once more took the initiative and reached forward to investigate Barber's jacket. Chaz caught him tight about the wrist as he took hold of the zipper.

“I'll do it,” he said in a cold voice, without taking his eyes off Barber's face.

Dodds looked up at the big man, knowing that he would not be able to free his wrist from such a solid grasp. He released his grip on the zipper. Chaz took it instead and undid the dead woman's jacket, exposing the white vest she wore underneath. It was soaked with blood and torn in places where it had been slashed. Beneath the ripped material, crimson spots of congealed blood, gathered around lacerated white flesh, were quite visible. They looked like stab wounds. Dodds was reminded of Dean's wounds, as the man had lain dying on his parents' couch.

Chaz started to search the inner pockets of the jacket as the others looked on. After he failed to find anything, he checked the outer ones. Then those of her trousers. His searching started to become more urgent as he turned out more and more pockets and did not find what he was looking for. He then pulled off her boots, though from the way they were so tightly laced it was doubtful he'd find anything there. Whoever had brought the woman in here had decided to dump her body on the first available trolley and leave it there. The boots turned out to be empty and there was nothing in the socks, either.

“What's wrong?” Estelle asked as Chaz let an empty boot fall to the floor.

“Isn't it obvious? I can't find the card,” Chaz said, acknowledging his commanding officer for the first time since entering the morgue. He began to dump more items on the floor and the gurney as his search continued.

Knowing that his help was not wanted, Dodds left the others to continue sorting through Barber's possessions and pulled back a sheet that was covering a body on another gurney, opposite that of Barber's.

“Chaz, how did she die?” Dodds asked, looking down into the scar-riddled face of the dead man he had uncovered.

There was a pause, then, “A man killed her,” he said, his voice bitter.

“This man?” Dodds asked, indicating the body. Chaz and the other three Knights glanced around, seeing the exposed body with its long coat and clothes even more bloodstained than Barber's vest.

“She killed him at the same time. That's all I know,” Chaz said.

The answer was good enough for Dodds. “This is our man. This is the guy who blew up Cardinal.” He began to rifle through the pockets of the man on the table. Enrique and Estelle hurried over to join him in his quest to locate the data card, but after a thorough search they failed to locate anything. Just as Chaz had done, they also checked boots, socks and other possible hiding places, to no avail.

* * *

Kelly caught Chaz's eye as she stood out of the way, still quite unnerved by the dead bodies. He gave her a look that emphasised his utter frustration.

“Want me to take a look?” she offered, although she asked only out of politeness and courtesy, and not because she wanted to be involved. She regretted it seconds later when Chaz walked back from the body.

“Go ahead,” he gestured at Barber's body.

Kelly approached and began her own search, rechecking everywhere that Chaz had already, though much more gingerly and with added caution. Whenever confronted with a dead body, she couldn't help but think that at any moment the eyes would fly open and stare straight at her, or that a sick smile would crawl up the face, the grin directed at and meant for her, or that a cold, dead hand would shoot out and grab her wrist...

She shook the images from her head and tried not to think about it. Dead people did not miraculously come back to life. Once dead, they stayed dead.

* * *

Dodds, Estelle and Enrique were on the verge of giving up with their own task, preparing to accept that Barber was in possession of the card, and not the man whom they searched.

“Do you think someone else might have taken it from her?” Dodds said.

“Well, they didn't take anything else,” Estelle said, nodding toward the numerous belongings Chaz had removed from the woman. “If they couldn't be bothered to take her gun, then why would they bother with something like that?”

“Maybe she's hidden it in some secret compartment? How carefully did you check her boots? There might be a false bottom or heel?” Dodds looked over at Chaz.

“There are no hidden compartments in her boots,” Chaz answered.

“Gloves? She's a spy, after all, so there's bound to be at least one secret hiding place...”

“There aren't any,” Chaz said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe it's in the lining of her jacket? Or around the collar? Could even be tucked into her bra...”

“Can it, Dodds,” Estelle said, patting at the raider's long coat.

“You sure she's not just holding it in her hand?” Enrique asked.

Dodds gave him a look of disdain.

“No, seriously,” Enrique said.

“She is holding something,” Kelly said. She was staring at Barber's right hand that, unlike the left, was closed up. Dodds and Estelle left the raider's body and came to stand by Barber once more.

Dodds took the woman's hand and inspected it. “Looks like plastic.” He tried to prise her hand open, but found it so stiff as to be unable to even move one finger. After a while, he was able to push his own little finger between the gap in Barber's grip and poked the object out. It fell and bounced gently on the floor. He retrieved it and held it up for the others to see.

“What is it?” Estelle asked.

“Some kind of tiny bottle,” Dodds said, turning the clear container between his fingers. It felt slimy in his grasp and he noticed that a small amount of fluid still clung to the inside. Estelle took it from him, almost dropping it as it slipped between her fingers.

“It's... it's lubricant,” she said, sounding more than a little confused.

“Ah ha! I've got it!” Enrique said, the four others turning around to the man. “My grandfather once told me that spies sometimes don't keep really important stuff directly on them; not in their clothes anyway, it's too risky. So, instead, they'll do what drug mules used to do and...”

He stopped talking. Dodds noted the horrified looks on Kelly and Estelle's faces, a mirror for his own. The anger had left Chaz's eyes, his face had fallen. Dodds' eyes went back to Barber as Enrique solved the mystery of the card's location.

“So basically she's swallowed it. It's inside her.” The enthusiastic tone was gone.

At the words, Kelly's eyes grew wide and she yanked her hands from where they had been worming their way into pockets and feeling the lining of Barber's jacket. She hurried backwards, putting distance between herself and the gurney.

Dodds found he was unable to tear his eyes away from Barber's stomach. “I really, really wish I hadn't gotten out of bed this morning,” he said.

* * *

Natalia Grace had, over the course of the last three weeks, suffered from fitful dreams, fraught with terrible memories of what she had borne witness to. Images of packed Imperial troop transports sweeping over crumbling and almost defenceless cities haunted her vision. She found herself trapped on their streets, all alone.

The transports landed and started to deploy their cargo: dozens of heavily armed black-clad soldiers, carrying all manner of weaponry. The Enemy.