The Phoenix Conspiracy (20 page)

"Are they up for some
questioning?"

"I think so, just go easy on them for
now. In an hour or two they'll be free to leave and return to
Special Forces HQ."

"OK," said Calvin. "I’d like to
interview them in a more private environment,” his eyes shifted
from the noisy machines to the busy staff.

“How about my quarters?” offered the
doctor.

“Perfect, and I’d like you to come
along.”

“Of course I’m coming, it’s my
quarter.”

Once they were all together behind
closed doors Calvin got right to the point. “I’d like to know how
you were incapacitated and put into that container.” He said,
looking one of them in the eyes—“Adams” was stitched to his
fatigues and he wore the emblem of master sergeant.

"I don't know," said Adams.

"Dr. Blair told us what happened, how
you found us and all," said Mitchell—the other soldier. "But we
don't remember any of that. It's not like we would have let someone
put us there by choice. I mean, what if we ran out of water or air
or something?" Mitchell sounded edgy, almost defensive.

"I'm not implying you
let
yourselves be
overpowered, soldier. I just want to know what happened. When a
prisoner escapes and surveillance footage disappears,
and
two of the Empire's
finest soldiers get taken down on
my
ship, I want to know why and
how."

"Makes sense," said Adams. He shot
Mitchell a look that made him hold his tongue. Calvin wondered if
he were sending him instructions on how to handle this
conversation, perhaps to keep a secret.

"OK let's take it back a step. You
don't remember being put in the container, what about before that?
Were you in a fight? Did you catch a glimpse of your
attacker?"

Adams shook his head slowly. "No we
weren't in a fight. And no, I didn't see anything, did you?" He
looked at Mitchell who shook his head.

Calvin kept pressing. "Did you hear
anything? A footstep? The crackle of the forcefield powering down?
Anything at all?"

"No."

It really did seem like they were
sending each other signals on how to answer. Shifty eyes, nervous
glances, subtle body language, Mitchell's defensive
posture...

Calvin ordered one of them out of the
room so he could talk to them individually.

"OK, Adams," said Calvin.
"What is the last thing you
do
remember? You were guarding the brig, the werewolf
was behind the forcefield, then what happened?"

"We stood guard as ordered,
sir."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Until I woke up in the
infirmary."

"So you have no idea how the
forcefield was deactivated?"

"No, sir."

"Did the prisoner say anything to
either you or Mitchell?"

"No, sir."

"How long were you standing guard
before your memory gets all fuzzy?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Dammit, make a
guess,
son
," said
Monte.

"Umm... I dunno. Maybe ten minutes or
so. I'm sorry, sir, I really don't know," he paused. "I was
standing there, gun in my hands, and that's the last thing I
remember."

Calvin looked into the man's face,
particularly his eyes. He was perfectly calm, eyes steady, face
placid. Even his voice was smooth and crisp. Calvin couldn't decide
if that meant he should trust him or not. Either he told the truth
or his lie was masterfully practiced, perhaps overly so.

"Thank you, Adams, that will be
all."

"Yes, sir."

"Tell Mitchell to come in on your way
out."

With a nod, Adams left.

"What do you think?" Calvin looked
over at Monte who now had his feet up on his coffee
table.

"He might be telling the truth. It is
possible for someone to lose consciousness and not remember the
moment when it happened. Like the instant when you fall asleep, you
can't remember that."

The door opened and in stepped
Mitchell. Calvin ordered him to take a seat.

"Mitchell, what is the last thing you
remember before waking up in the infirmary?"

"I don't know, I don't
remember."

Calvin sat up. What a strange
response. "You mean you don't remember the last thing you
remember?"

"I don't know." He said abruptly—not
nearly as well-composed as Adams. But he wasn't sweating or
trembling either. Just sharp, abrasive, and a bit
thoughtless.

"It's very important that you listen
to me carefully," Calvin spoke slowly. "And answer truthfully and
completely. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"What is the last thing
you
do
remember?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe you're not hearing
me, soldier," Calvin's voice sharpened. "But that's not what
remember
means. When I
ask you what the last thing is you remember, you tell me the last
thing you can think of. Do you remember being put on duty in the
brig area?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember the prisoner
there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Describe him for me,
please."

"A man, early thirties, brown hair,
red eyes, light brown skin."

"Did you notice anything peculiar
about him?"

"Yes sir, his eyes were red at first.
Glowing bright red."

"How red?"

"Red sir."

"How red?"

"Very red."

"I said,
how red
?"

The soldier shrugged. "Red like... an
apple that's on fire."

"That's better," Calvin relaxed. "Now,
what is the last thing you remember?"

"I was on duty with Adams. We were
standing guard by the prisoner. And that's all I
remember."

"How long were you on
duty?"

"I don't know."

"How long..." Calvin paused, "before
the prisoner made his move."

"I don't know. Maybe five minutes,
maybe ten."

"Did he say anything to either of you
at any time?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't
know?"

"I mean, I don't remember,
sir."

"And if you had to make a
guess?"

"I'd say no. I don't think he did. Or,
if he did, I didn't hear him. He really didn't seem like the
talkative sort."

"Did anyone else come onto that deck
or walk by?"

"No sir."

"No or you don't remember."

"No sir, they did not."

Calvin drummed his fingers on the
table beside him. "Okay, thank you, Mitchell, you're free to
go."

Mitchell saluted and left.

"One person with amnesia is
one thing," said Calvin, looking at Monte once more, "but
two
people forgetting the
exact same thing at the exact same time, doesn't that seem
improbable?"

"Yes, it does," Monte admitted.
"Unless neither of them were looking the right way. You can't
remember something you didn't see."

"Could be," said Calvin, wondering.
"Or maybe they were tricked into lowering the forcefield and
they’re both too ashamed to admit it. So they conveniently don't
remember."

"Our soldiers are trained better than
that."

"I would hope so. The only
other logical conclusion that I can see," said Calvin, "is that
someone
let
the
lycan go. How else could the forcefield be powered-down
and
the surveillance
footage go missing?"

"You think these soldiers let the
prisoner go on purpose, and then tried to hide it?"

"Maybe, maybe not," said Calvin. "They
weren't in any position to switch out the surveillance footage," he
paused. "But someone did that. Either that someone was working with
Mitchell and Adams, and had their full cooperation, or else
arranged for them to be taken down and stuffed away in that
container."

"Don't you think, if they were
co-conspirators, the odds of them both being randomly assigned to
guard the prisoner is a bit slim?" asked Monte.

"Unless the person who assigned them
to guard the prisoner was in on it."

"Major Jenkins?" Monte laughed. "No
way!"

Calvin agreed that sounded absurd.
He'd known Jenkins long enough to be sure of his character, and he
would never, under any circumstances, compromise his own unit to
let a dangerous prisoner roam free. But, Calvin realized, there was
always the slim chance he was wrong.

"You Intel Wing types are always
seeing too much into things. Sometimes a cigar is just a
cigar."

"Sometimes," said Calvin. "But not
always." Silently he agreed with the doctor. None of these suspects
had motive to let Tristan go. And none of them could have known in
advance Tristan would be on the ship. It was a dead end.

"It could be amnesia," said Monte.
"What's important to establish here is, what is causing them to
forget?"

Calvin rubbed his chin. "Could it be
some kind of drug?"

"I don’t know. I have mixed feelings
about that hypothesis," said Monte. "Giving someone a drug intended
to take effect later in the day can be rather imprecise, especially
when you want it to affect two people of different sizes at the
exact same time and the exact same way. It's not as simple as it
looks in the movies. Most likely, what would happen, is that one
soldier would go down before the other. And the one still standing
would have plenty of time to alert someone."

"What about when the dentist put me
out to take out my wisdom teeth? I was out like a light after only
a few seconds."

"That's a really strong
general anesthesia. With something like that, total unconsciousness
can be achieved in no time with guaranteed loss of memory. But it
would have to be administered shortly before the patients—I
mean
soldiers
—became unconscious, and there are all kinds of complexities.
For instance, the person could easily stop breathing, or if they're
undermedicated they could have dangerously high blood pressure. Not
to mention the anesthesia must be maintained, to keep someone out
for an extended amount of time. It would be dangerous and
complicated."

"What about blunt injuries?" asked
Calvin. "You know, blows to the head."

"Their bruises and trauma weren't
severe enough to suggest that," said Monte. "And that would risk
neck and spinal injuries. Maybe the culprit wouldn’t care about our
soldiers’ long term health, but whether or not he did, neither
Mitchell nor Adams experienced any kind of trauma that would have
risked a long term injury. So, considering that, maybe the culprit
did have some motive in keeping our men intact. If so, then
knocking them out with blunt force, that carefully and precisely,
seems as likely as the lycan using some kind of magical lycan
ability to do all of this."

"So what is your working
theory?"

"I don't have any working theories. I
just patch people up and figure out ways to make them feel better.
How they end up in one of my hospital beds is their
business."

"Okay, thanks," said Calvin with a
sigh. Unsure how to keep investigating this angle.

Chapter 14

Calvin stared at the results of his
database search, regarding the fingerprints the Roscos had given
him—belonging to Jacobi and those who'd attacked him on
Aleator.

Jacobi had not been his real name,
which Calvin knew. His prints matched one Titus Antony, a young
rebel, even younger than Calvin, with a full criminal record and a
file photo. Apparently, before mysteriously arriving on Aleator One
and helping Calvin, Titus managed to break free from prison and
flee the Andricus penal colony, there was an open warrant for his
arrest. Most of his crimes were petty: Larceny, theft, vandalism,
assault, that sort of thing. The only real black mark on his record
was that Titus had been a member of CERKO. But since the
organization was officially considered defunct, no Imperial
Marshals were currently pursuing him.

After reviewing Titus' information in
full, Calvin moved on to each of the dead. Some of the prints were
useless because the Roscos hadn't been very careful getting the
samples—as thugs they lacked proper training.

Their personal backgrounds were not as
similar as he'd guessed; many of them came from different planets,
and their ages varied by a range of eleven years, but one thing was
consistent. They'd all served time at the Andricus Penal Colony and
their sentences overlapped. Some were paroled and others had
escaped along with Titus. And all of them had known ties to CERKO.
Either as members or accessories, and they'd all been rounded up
during sting operations on Tarmosis Beta.