Chapter Twenty One
“Try it now,” Ian’s voice said from the intercom. I replaced the access panel on my command board and stood up. This time it powered on with no problem when I tapped the power stud.
“That did it, Ian. Thanks,” I said. I switched off the intercom and sat down gingerly to begin running a diagnostic on the console. I tried to put as little weight as possible on my right hip as I sat. My entire right side from my shoulder down to my ankle was one massive bruise. It could have been much worse if I hadn’t managed to catch hold of a brace bar. But my injuries were nothing compared to what many of our passengers had suffered. Unlike the crew who had been at their duty stations and were able to grab onto something as we rode out the shockwave, the refugees had been tossed around like rag dolls. Many had suffered broken bones and lacerations, several had received concussions and one had been killed when he struck his head on a support stanchion and snapped his neck. Doc’s medical team had been very busy for the past hour.
The destruction of the asteroid had taken quite a toll on the ship as well. Several systems had been knocked out and an unstable core had forced Ian to take the main drive off-line. He was confident that he could get the engines up and running again but it would take time. In spite of all the damage we had suffered in the explosion, by some miracle the hull had not ruptured. Ian credited this to the reinforced inner hull we’d added to the ship during its refit. For those of us who had been on the bridge however, we knew that a large part of the credit had to be given to our new pilot as well. Sasha’s deft handling of the helm had saved us from colliding with the largest fragments of the exploding asteroid which would have destroyed the ship.
Of the shuttle we had been tracking there was no sign. Our long range sensors were among the systems that had been knocked out and within the limited area we could scan we could find no trace of that ship. I doubted that we would have found any wreckage even if our long range sensors had been working. Something was telling me that they had made good their escape.
“Captain,” Tom’s voice called, drawing me back to the present. “I’m receiving a broad band call from the flagship of the battle group. They’re looking for us.”
I wasn’t surprised that they couldn’t find us. With our shields down and half of the ship’s systems off-line they would not be able to tell us apart from the drifting rubble, if they could pick us up at all. My first impulse was to contact the carrier and have them bring us aboard for repairs. We could definitely use their help. Although Ian and his engineering team had been working nonstop since the explosion, there was still a lot that needed fixing. It would also be a good opportunity to give Ian a break. Doc had only been able to partially reknit his broken ribs before Ian decided that he needed to get back to his post. When the shockwave hit, Ian had been immersed in a tank of nanosolution as the microscopic bots repaired his injury. But as soon as the buffeting from the explosion was over the big man had simply climbed out of the regen tank and walked out. Doc had called me on the bridge to report that Ian had released himself from the infirmary against his instructions and wanted me to order him back to finish his treatment. Until we got help however, I knew we needed our engineer coordinating the repair operations. As long as he was able to manage his discomfort I wasn’t going to order him away from his work. But with the battle group ready to come to our aid, that was unnecessary now.
I was about have Tom contact the battle group when a new thought crossed my mind. If Angela and the giant had indeed escaped, they were going to take information about us back to whoever they were working for, and he would know that we had been able to take back control of our ship. Learning that we had been able to get around the sub-routine hidden inside Praetorian might make him do something rash. He had invested too much effort into distributing his corrupted programming to every corner of the inhabited galaxy to just sit idly by. I went cold inside as I thought about all of the damage he could do if he felt his back were against the wall. Virtually everything in our modern world relied on computers—from the defensive platforms orbiting capital planets to individual hovercars. And all of it was protected by anti-virus software.
I was also worried that Gilead’s national security might have been compromised. The databases of our military and intelligence agencies were supposed to be secure against outside influences. They were stand alone systems that were isolated from the net, and therefore shouldn’t be able to be tapped into from outside. Yet I could not be sure that some other way to access these systems hadn’t been devised. I’d seen how easily Angela had been able to take control of our ship’s systems using a simple palm pad. No database was safe when its own firewall was corrupted. If he could access supposedly secure information within our systems, he could also input data. It would be a simple matter for him to issue orders to redeploy ships and personnel, leaving us wide open for an enemy attack. That was undoubtedly how he had been able to acquire so much of our military equipment. I shuddered to think what kind of havoc he could cause if he set his mind to it.
On the heels of these thoughts something else occurred to me. If the public ever learned about Praetorian there would be widespread panic. A run on the banks was a virtual certainty when people realized that their life savings were not secure. Once the banks failed all commerce would come to a standstill. Looting and hoarding would run rampant. Local police forces would be overwhelmed as panicked mobs swarmed the stores, taking everything they could buy or steal until the shelves were empty. There would be massive protests as the people took to the streets and demanded that their governments do something. The authorities would try to contain the situation, eventually turning to military intervention to pacify the situation, but I had seen what martial law could do to a nation. If the true nature of Praetorian were ever made public it would have as devastating an effect throughout the galaxy as the interstellar war Sebastian had planned to start.
On the other hand, if the mysterious mastermind behind Praetorian thought we had been killed in the explosion his secret would remain safe. He would feel secure that his plans had not been compromised and for a while at least we could forestall any terrorist acts he might be planning. And just as importantly we would have the latitude to continue acting behind the scenes. Hopefully we would be able to find a way to get to this madman and stop him before he could do any more harm.
But playing dead carried its own problems. Because no database could be trusted, we could not afford for there to be even the most obscure reference in any file anywhere to our ship being recovered. The only way to ensure this was to remain out of touch with everyone. We would be completely on our own with no outside assistance. The most immediate problem we had to deal with was repairing the Prometheus. Although Ian and his teams were doing their best, the facilities aboard ship were limited. For now, they were making whatever emergency repairs they could, but most of these were temporary patch jobs that would not hold for long. What we really needed was to get to a spacedock.
Another problem was the nearly five hundred refugees we had taken aboard. Their presence was already beginning to tax our life support. The air, water and waste recycling systems were designed to handle a maximum crew of one hundred and eighty, and we were carrying more than three times that many. We also didn’t have enough supplies to feed everyone for long. Lucky had done a quick inventory of the remaining food stores and estimated they would last a week at full rations, a little longer if we cut back to emergency portions.
And then there was Bobby to consider. Doc had been operating on him since the explosion and the prognosis was not good. While Doc Jacobs was a competent physician he was not a trauma surgeon. Doc himself had told me Bobby would stand a much better chance if we could transport him to the carrier where an experienced surgical staff and fully equipped trauma unit were part of the ship’s normal complement. Right now, Doc gave him only a forty percent chance of surviving.
Al
l of this raced through my mind as I sat staring at my command board trying to come to a decision.
“Excuse me, Sir,” Tom said several moments later. “The flag ship is transmitting again. They’re using the call sign, Epsilon One. What do I tell them?”
Epsilon One was the code signal Morgan and I had agreed on. It confirmed that the ships searching for us had indeed been sent by him.
I looked at Tom for several moments as I weighed my options. Either decision carried consequences, but in the end I knew there was only one real choice. I sat back in my seat and drew in a deep, steadying breath.
“No response,” I said. “Keep listening for any other transmissions but maintain communications silence. Mark, engage the stealth system. We’re going to play dead.” Please forgive me, I said silently to the image of Bobby that popped into my mind.
“Aye, Sir.” Tom said crisply and turned back to his board. His military training allowed for no other reaction.
I managed to catch Morgana’s eye and she nodded to me then went back to working on her console. But the rest of my bridge crew were not academy graduates. Chris and Mark were staring at me in wide eyed disbelief, Mark with his mouth actually hanging open. Even Sasha had turned around to look back at me.
“But, Jason,” Mark said, “those are our people out there. They could help us. We’re in pretty bad shape. And, well,” he glanced around at the others briefly, “we all heard what Doc Jacobs said about Bobby. If he’s going to have any chance we need to get him over there as soon as possible.”
“I know,” I said. It was hard to meet his eyes. Instead, I looked at the main display which showed asteroids slowly drifting by in the distance. I was suddenly struck by the desolation of this place. All around us was nothing but death and destruction. We were in a graveyard. And to the rest of the galaxy we would have to remain dead, at least for the time being. Our death would ensure the safety of billions.
“The situation is serious,” I said after a moment, speaking loud enough for everyone on the bridge to hear. “But there’s more than just us to consider. I didn’t come to this decision lightly. I can’t explain everything to you right now, but I think, no, I know that it’s vitally important for us not to let anyone know that we survived.” I looked around the room slowly, meeting everyone’s eyes in turn. “There’s just one question you need to ask yourself: Do you trust me?”
My eyes settled on Mark last. He held my gaze for a while, then reached for his console.
“Engaging stealth system,” he said.