Chapter 2-4
Remy had washed and dressed by the time Colonel Freedom opened his door to retrieve him. Normally on the way to the bridge or on a tour of the ship, the Colonel would taunt his captive with a few subtle remarks. Strangely, the old man was silent the entire trip to the scrambler.
About half the crew was assembled and ready to head down to the planet. The Quartermaster, Lieutenant Bender, was unrecognizable in a Hawaiian shirt and wide-brimmed hat. Lieutenant Dorsey planned to cruise in a simple black tank top, expecting to impress with his guns. Rounding out the group were Lieutenants Drake and Anders in nearly matching polo shirts. One thing to be said about the Republic, their citizens stood out like sore thumbs wherever they went in the galaxy.
The Colonel planned to take his crew down with their own scrambler. As he warned his men, the Imperium had the skill to remove individual memories from a single life pattern. If they were allowed to travel through an Imperium scrambler, their engineers could learn any Republic secrets floating around in their brains.
“That goes for personal contact,” Freedom warned. “All it takes is for one of you to pass out or fall asleep. They can get your brain without you ever knowing.”
Drake and Dorsey chuckled as they glanced to Bender.
“And speaking of passing out,” the Colonel continued, “I know at least one of you will ignore this, but try to control yourselves down there. We do represent our country and our service. Don’t do anything to embarrass us or you will be called to my office when you get back.”
With that, Freedom activated the scrambler and transported the group to the station below.
Jade 5 was nothing like the station on LX-925. Remy found they were taken to a sort of mall. Stalls and booths surrounded a large gathering area while neon lights and flashing signs created a vibrant, market-like atmosphere. With only the passing military ships to cater too, the Imperium went all out to make their station a tourist haven.
As if directed by radar, the Lieutenants were drawn to a shop front that looked to be a bar, while Freedom led his prisoner along the promenade.
“Don’t worry about getting lost,” he whispered in Remy’s ear. “That’s why you have a tracker.”
They passed by food stalls and souvenir stands. The scents of Eastern cooking lured weary travelers, though with the on-demand nature of the food, it was curious those scents were so pervasive. Like the smell of beer and sex identifying other areas of the mall, the entire atmosphere was designed to lure weak minded soldiers into the grasp of Imperium spies. It was as Freedom tried to warn his men, these people trapped their prey with hospitality.
It was not that hospitality which Freedom sought. He led Remy off the promenade and into the guest quarters. Counting the room numbers, they finally stopped at one door and sounded the tone. The door vanished and to Remy’s surprise, a man with the pale skin of the Republic came out to greet them.
“Colonel, you’ve come!”
Remy did not once hear this man’s name. He seemed to be attached to this facility in the way an ambassador on Earth was attached to a particular embassy in a foreign country. Since there was a bit of secrecy tied to his job, it was likely he didn’t want his name or title spoken to prevent exposure.
“Can I come inside to talk?”
The man looked Remy over suspiciously, leading to his introduction. Though the Colonel had no qualms about sharing details of his mission to the inspector, the stranger wouldn’t allow it.
“He has to wait outside.”
Freedom released the chain around Remy’s neck. “Go, enjoy yourself. It’s not like you can escape this place.”
Remy just stood watching the pair disappear into the room as the door materialized behind them. Curious as to what was suddenly so private, he pressed his ear against the door. He had to strain his hearing, but he could just barely make out the conversation inside.
“I tracked down the Rostov,” the Colonel began, “and I’m certain General Mizenov had nothing to do with the rebellion. I think the Imperium might have done something to frame the Confederation.”
“No,” the stranger flat out told him. “Our intelligence suggests the Rostov hasn’t had contact with the Imperium in almost a year. That ship operates primarily in our space. No, Central Intelligence thinks we may be looking at a Twenty-Four.”
The room grew awful silent after the suggestion. Remy pressed his ear tighter against the door and strained his hearing further, but could not make out any more words. It was frustrating because if this Twenty-Four was behind everything, then whoever or whatever it was had his data chips.
By the time sound returned to his ears, the talk of LX-925 was passed and the conversation turned to the next mission. But Remy didn’t care about the next mission, he had to find those chips.
He left the crew quarters and returned to the promenade, trying to figure his next move. It was possible the infiltrator had snuck down to the station, but without any idea what he or she looked like, it would be impossible to guess.
He sought out the bar and the Lieutenants that had disappeared inside. All three were at a table near the door, no doubt to make sure they were the first pick any ladies had upon entering. Remy would disappoint by being the first to join them.
“I see the Commander cut you loose,” Bender shouted. They had only been there a few minutes and the man slurred his words like he had had too much to drink.
A server came by with four beers for the officers, then apologized to Remy for not anticipating his arrival. He dismissed the oversight, more amazed that the Imperium exported service workers to their off world operations. By the time she left to fetch him a beer, Bender had already finished his.
Another young woman, beautiful and seductive, tapped Dorsey on the shoulder.
“I see someone came looking for more than a beer.” She traced her finger down his triceps as his companions hooted his good fortune.
“And it looks like I just found her.” He cast a triumphant smile to his friends as she led him away to some place private.
The server returned with two beers, having anticipated Bender’s thirst.
“Can I ask you guys something,” Remy put forward. It might not have been the best idea to ply Freedom’s men for information, but he figured by the end of their shore leave all three would be too drunk to remember when it came time to report back. “Any of you ever hear of a Twenty-Four?”
The amused looks around the table told him the answer to that one.
“Is it the name of a beer?”
“I think you’re looking for a clock.”
“The Union controls a planet, BT-24,” Anders offered.
“It’s BT-247,” Drake corrected his chagrinned friend.
“Never mind,” Remy told them. It might have been a good thing they never heard the term because that meant only the Colonel would be looking for this individual. Being by the Colonel’s side every moment of his shift, Remy was in a position to monitor his progress and cut off any unwanted discoveries. He sat back and enjoyed his beer, celebrating this one tiny victory.