“Yes, Chief.” The disguised senior agent watched the workers streaming aboard and sent a brief message to the Communications Commander. When he was done, he leaned closer to the Admiral. “She’s said to be able to disguise herself as a man, and if that was her, she’s bloody good.” He watched Bast as she sauntered aboard. “Are you sure about this, Boss? If it goes wrong—”
“You and the others know what to do.” The Admiral paused. “Any news from the surface?”
The third man, also dressed as a Regulating Branch Master Warrant, shook his head. “Not yet, but they won’t be in position for at least another thirty minutes. We’ve taken control of the food replication system as well as the air and water distribution, so unless they’ve got something else in Rowanberg’s location that we don’t know about, we’re good to go.”
Felicity felt her pulse quicken as the implant in her wrist activated. So they’d found her. Yes! Now she had to play it cool to avoid alerting her captors. She was sure some sort of trap was set for her or her rescuers, but what kind of trap, and where?
She rubbed her wrist in a particular manner, using a finger and thumb to alternately apply pressure in a specific pattern. Then she walked to the wash basin and made a play of refreshing herself. She’d not been able to find any indication of anything unusual having been installed here, but it paid to be wary.
The holo projector came alive, showing an empty plaza except for a range of abandoned furnishings from what had been a public park with sidewalk cafes. She peered at the display, her eye drawn to what looked like a hanging corpse. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realised it was a damaged android. There was no other movement and no sound.
Moving to the food replicator, she instructed it to make her some tea, once again apparently casually running her hands over it as if bored. She’d spent hours checking for any unusual hidden tech or potential threats and found nothing. She checked again anyway. Patience! She needed patience now, and she needed to stay alert. The people holding her were among the most dangerous in the known universe. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down for a single minute.
Captain Heron moved along the tunnel with caution. His aerosol canisters had helped him identify four laser alarms, and he was certain there were more, as well as visual monitors. He activated a useful little device that Security had given him, which sensed the signal emitted from video monitors, and he used a brilliant flash flare to fry the optic cells in those not disabled by his chemical smoke. He’d been right about the distribution of anti-personnel devices. So far he’d found and neutralised two of them because they were most likely set up as some kind of alert for Bast’s people.
His efforts to neutralise Bast’s monitoring devices was having some effect. His trackers were no longer able to monitor his actions or see exactly where he was. The flares had indeed fried the optics in many of the camera units, and had nearly blinded several of the daemons until they adjusted their visors, but doing so reduced clarity of vision. As a result, and to their frustration, they knew where James was as he moved about, but they could not know with certainty what he was doing.
He planted a few devices of his own as he moved. Anyone following him was likely to get an unpleasant surprise unless they were as cautious as he expected. They would at the very least have to move slowly, which would give him a chance to prepare a reception of his own.
Ahead lay the abandoned plaza, a large open area. Using his helmet optic visor, he scanned for any sign of human occupancy and found no one and no indication that anyone was in any of the entrances that he could see.
“Come on, Bast,” he murmured. “I know your people are here. Where the devil are they? And what have you rigged up for remote triggers?” He scanned the tunnel, the entrance and a section of the plaza. Nothing.
“Okay. Let’s see what we get when I send you in, my little friend.” He placed a small device on the ground. “Activate.” He waited while the unit unfolded itself like a mechanical spider coming alive. “Search for life signs and explosive devices.”
The mechanical spider scuttled away and was soon lost in the debris littering the paved surface of the plaza. While James monitored the progress of the device, he examined the features of the huge open space. He took time to study the dome, the hexagonal frames and the transparent panels designed to admit the faint light of the distant sun, but some of the panels were so covered in red Martian dust as to be almost opaque.
Something hanging from one of the massive frames drew his attention. He zoomed his optics. “Looks like a service droid. What the hell is it doing there?”
When an explosion blossomed near a dry fountain, he threw himself to the ground and slid under cover. The data stream from his spider droid showed that it had detected and triggered a device. The display in his visor read Device type: Anti-personnel. Needle projection. Neuro-immobiliser. “Bastards. Okay, I expected something like this.” He fished out a small device the gadget team had nicknamed the Bumblebee. Activating it, he directed it to follow the signal from his spider scout, and a minute or so later, a signal in his visor told him the device was neutralised.
He sent a second droid spider off in another direction. His research into the known methods used in previous hits ascribed to Bast and her team suggested she was toying with him, and presumably with Fleet Security Intel One. That meant this whole exercise was a decoy, but he had no choice but to use his training for situations such as this.
The second spider droid reached its destination and climbed the dome frame. The first continued its search pattern.
Data began to flow from the second robotic spider, and now he could see that the droid dangling from the dome structure was just the carcass of one, with no internal wiring or data chips, merely the shell of a droid.
Why? There has to be a reason. A distraction? From what? He moved quickly, changing his position in a series of rapid runs and diving rolls. He landed at the swinging feet of the droid carcass. “Got you.” The dangling droid had been a distractor, but it was also part of an elaborate trap. James Heron snapped off a shot at the approaching drone, dodged the response and took a moment to throw a mist container toward the machine. That gave him the chance to take more deliberate aim with a plasma projector.
The drone disintegrated, but a small explosion behind him made him change position rapidly. He quickly read the data stream from his spider scouts. The dangling droid contained a bomb.
“Time to go,” he told himself. He accessed the schematics for the place. Eight entry points, three unusable thanks to partial collapse. That left his entry point and four others.
He sent another search spider toward the nearest of the blocked entrances, and got the all clear.
“Okay, here I go.”
His path followed a pattern as if making for one of the obvious exits. At the last minute he dodged into the blocked one. As he hoped, the depressurisation door was still intact. From cover he took careful aim at the dangling droid, and fired. His aim was good, and the tether suspending the droid split in two. He stepped back and released the door. The detonation and the shockwave caused dust and loose fittings to drop from the roof of the tunnel. He checked the data from his third spider droid. The tunnel was indeed blocked, but his schematic display suggested he could work around it. Instead he checked the atmosphere on the plaza side of the door.
“Okay, Madam Bast, time to go out the way I hope you didn’t think I would.”
Yelendi Dysson knew she was risking her life, but she’d had to make a choice in the last weeks. It had been damnably difficult because she believed that, ultimately, the ideas proposed for mankind by the Consortium—a world and universe governed with less bureaucracy, and politics replaced by commercial principles and governance—was an improvement on the plethora of corrupt and often incompetent politicians and bureaucrats. But now the ugly side of the current Board and especially the Chairman was on view, and she didn’t agree with the direction. Hiring assassins, especially those like the
Pantheon, was not something she could live with. What made her even more sick to her stomach was knowing that Pantheon agents like Bast killed for the pure thrill of it.
She’d had enough, and it was time to get on the right side of this battle of titans.
She strode to the Commander’s office and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
“Hello, Commander Brandeis, my name is Yelendi Dysson. I think I may have some information on the whereabouts of Ms Rowanberg.”
Alert for a trap, Piet Brandeis indicated a chair. “Have a seat, Ms Dysson. I won’t ask the source of your information, but I’m listening.”
She smiled with relief at his approachable demeanour. “It’s on this chip, Commander. And I won’t detain you. I suspect you know why. Oh, one more thing, her captors have monitors in her quarters, as I’m sure you already know, and the location of their unit is also on the chip. I’d suggest you take them down and release her at the same time. We both know who you’re dealing with.”
He nodded. “Quite.” He paused. “I expect you think I’m just going to forget who gave me this and ignore what your real role has been.”
“Not true, Commander. I knew exactly what I could expect when I made this decision, but I hope you’ll consider your next action carefully. I think you know Bast and her people are on the Vanguard.”
“Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don’t.”
She smiled. “I hope you’ve some really good people ready to deal with her. Oh, if you need me, I’ll be in my office. If my providing you this information becomes known, clearing my desk probably won’t be a priority.” She grimaced. “I’ve found a device—not one of yours—which means that Bast is aware that I’ve been searching.”
Piet Brandeis smiled. “I like your style, Ms Dysson. I expect someone will be in touch with you at some point in the near future.”
Chapter 21
Fighting Clear
Piet Brandeis didn’t waste time. “Team Four, I’m sending you some new information on the location. Once you have it, brief your people and be prepared to move on my order.”
“Confirmed, Green Leader.”
Piet activated a triple-encrypted link. “New situation update, sir. Transmitting to you now.”
“Received. Any reports of the situation on the surface?”
“The Captain has disarmed four traps and taken out a droid rigged for remote detonation. He’s still isolated, sir, but I have T-Four moving on the enemy’s nest, and we’re in place to take that shuttle.”
“Wait for my signal to take out their people. I don’t want the principal alerted until we have them off the ship.”
“Understood, sir.”
The Commander leaned back. He knew his Director. The Admiral was playing his own devious game here, and keeping his cards very close. He was sure the Admiral knew that Captain Heron and Felicity Rowanberg were decoys, a distraction for whatever Bast and her agents planned on the ship.
He could only hope that the Boss knew what he was doing. He’d reassigned almost all the Vanguard crewmen in the area that Bast was most likely to target, and replaced them with his own special agents. Commander Petrocova had not been happy, nor had Fritz Dieffenbach, but the replaced crew were even less happy. They were now confined to a Marine barracks far from the action where boredom and inertia were setting in and causing some disciplinary concerns, but it had to be done. Piet hoped this whole mess would be sorted soon and they could put the Pantheon behind them.
The pressure door opened. Smoke curled from the fallen droid as James checked the dome above it. There were cracks in some of the panels, but no mist seeping through the cracks to indicate atmosphere leakage, and that was all that mattered. Checking the status of his search spiders, he smiled in satisfaction when he saw that both were still operational. The nearest one flagged the presence of a droid moving in James’s direction.
He zoomed the view in his visor optics and spotted the droid moving awkwardly toward him, as if there was some malfunction in its controls. It stopped and turned this way and that as if searching.
James studied the droid. Several things were wrong about it, not least that it had a control unit attached to the head, and it held weapons. Droids were never armed. Interplanetary law forbade their use in combat, and they were programmed to assist humans, not to attack or injure them.
“So someone has modified you,” James muttered under his breath. “Sorry, but I can’t allow that.” He drew careful aim on the mechanical figure as it turned toward him and raised its weapons. His plasma burst vaporised the head and the control unit. The droid ceased all movement as its systems shut down. James took cover and braced for the worst—an explosion, maybe?—as a small charge detonated inside it, and the droid collapsed, its electronics and hydraulics fried.
Captain Heron crept forward and studied the mangled, smoking pile of titanium. He noted the absence of its autonomous processor unit, normally located on the rear of the thorax plate, roughly where a human’s shoulder blades flanked the spine. He felt a chill. Modifying a service droid like this was not something that could be done by just anyone. This needed know-how and skill—and time. How many more had they modified like this? This one was most likely a decoy, probably one they damaged while making the modifications. Furthermore, this one was obviously under remote control.
Okay, so he’d put this one out of operation, but how many more did they have? And where was the controller?
“Time to use the toys again.” His robot spiders scuttled in opposite directions on his command. Watching the data stream, he located another trap and sent a small self-propelled missile at it. Once again the dome shook from the force of a detonation. He consulted his schematic for the plaza and surrounding area. The tunnel he wanted—and which Bast no doubt wanted him to use—lay directly ahead. He checked the opening. It would be fitted with a sensing device, a trigger for some further trap.
He took out one of his canisters.
“Let’s see what this produces.”
Moving closer to the entrance, he lifted a tab which revealed a ring pull, measured the distance to the opening, and pulled the ring. Stooping low, he propelled the canister along the floor and watched as wisps of smoke emitted from it. The smoke increased in volume and became a thick orange plume as the canister rolled to a halt. Adjusting his optics, the Captain studied the readout. He changed the spectrum frequency.
“Got you.”
The thin beams were already being dimmed by the billowing smoke.
“Okay, let’s see what happens when—” He ducked as a brilliant flash lit the smoke. “Interesting. Right, I think I can assume the other tunnels will have a similar configuration. Where the hell did they get a neural disrupter?” He shifted position and recalled his spider droids. Waiting for them, he prepared two more of his canisters, this time rigging the triggers with remote igniters. The smoke billowing from the tunnel entrance showed no sign of diminishing. He smiled as his spiders scuttled away carrying a canister each as they headed for the remaining two entrances.
The smoke was thinning now, almost time to move. He could only hope that he’d guessed correctly, but he needed to check his droids. The first had placed the canister and was on its way back, and the second was still placing its burden. When he had confirmation that it was returning, he pressed his remote. Dark orange smoke billowed from the two entrances. Satisfied that all was going according to plan, he activated his visor and prepared to make his move.
The pair of Pantheon agents monitoring James Heron’s progress adjusted their display. “Damn, he’s taken out another of the monitors. How the hell is he finding them?”
“Don’t know, but he’s good—better than we were told. That smoke he’s using screws up the lenses on the surveillance bugs, and it neutralises the passive optics as well.”
“What’s the hostage up to?” said the other agent. “Damn, now she’s blanking out our cams.” He groaned in exasperation as he stood. “Can’t have that. I�
�ll go and knock her out.”
The door burst inward, and three armoured men stormed in. Both agents reacted fast, but not fast enough.
“We’ve secured their control room, Leader,” barked one into the coms device clipped to his shoulder. “Commander Rowanberg is taking out their cameras. Watch your step when you access her unit.”
“Got it. Make sure there’s no chance of anything being triggered that could harm her. What’s the Captain’s situation?”
“Difficult to tell. He’s seems to have screwed up their viewing signal. Their monitors are blurry, and all we can see is smoke.”
“Good, that means the other side can’t see anything either. Hold that position until further orders.”
Bast felt the alarm as a tingling on her wrist. “Time to get out of here,” she said to her agents. “Something’s gone wrong planetside. We’ve got what we came for anyway.”
“Have they IDed us?”
“No, they’ve hit our Mars team.” She opened a tool satchel. “This’ll make them wish they hadn’t. Okay. We’re tracing a faulty node, so you take the service tube, and we’ll head for the next node access and work our way out from there. There’s a service tender waiting at the airlock on the lower fin.”
Her lead agent grinned. “See you at the hatch.” He worked his way into the narrow cable tube.
To the secondary agent, Bast said, “I’ll see you at the next station. You know the route.”
He nodded. “Got you covered. I’ll take care of this end. See you on the station.”
Bast smiled. “Make sure you refresh the DNA masking creme on your hands and any other exposed skin.”
Felicity dropped into a defensive stance as the door opened. She’d no intention of letting her captors take her without a fight. As long as her captors didn’t use a neural stun on her, she’d make at least one of them regret the encounter.
“Fleet’s here!” The team leader opened his helmet so Feilcity could see his face as he pushed a holdall bag forward. “Good to see you, Commander. We may not have long to get clear, so we need you to get suited up.” He grinned at her stunned but exhilarated expression. “Nice rig job,” he added as he took in her improvised armour.
Captain James Heron: First into the Fray: Prequel to Harry Heron: Into the Unknown of the Harry Heron Series Page 23
