Alone in the Night

by Richard Tongue

  “Aye, sir,” the technician replied. “We’ll be in range in one minute. It’s on the far side of the planet right now, and I’ve got nothing to bounce off.”

  “Sensor drones will be up in three minutes,” Crawford added. “It’s going to take pretty much our entire inventory, though.”

  “We’ll replace them when we can,” Corrigan said. “We need them as much as the Atlanteans do, and I don’t have any major objection to keeping control of their orbital communications network. Right, Dix?”

  “I like the way you think, Skipper.”

  “Collins to Bridge,” the voice of the overworked engineer said, barking impatiently through the ceiling speaker. “We’ve got the fighter pilots on board. Two of them are wounded, but not badly. I’ve made sure they have everything they need. Their senior surviving officer is a Squadron Leader Falco. She’s asking to speak with you.”

  “Send her up here,” Corrigan replied. “Make sure she can only make it up to the bridge, though. We don’t need her wandering around.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Collins said. “I only told you about her request in the hopes that it might shut her up. I’m on my own down here, and…”

  “Crawford, as soon as you’ve got the deployment sequence moving, go down and give Collins a hand,” Corrigan ordered. “That helpful, Ensign?”

  “Marginally,” Collins replied. “She’s on her way up now, Commander. I hope you have a better time with her than I have. Engineering out.”

  “Is this wise?” Dixon asked. “If something happens…”

  “If she wanted to destroy this ship, then she could detonate a suicide bomb anywhere, and besides, she had no way of knowing that we were going to be merciful enough to rescue her. No plan the Belters could have put together would have taken that into account. And bluntly, most of us are up here right now. There’s no better place to guard her.”

  “Besides,” Novak added, “You want to see her reactions.”

  “Got it in one. Do we have anything about our guest?”

  “Local,” Dixon said. “Born on Atlantis, but spent a lot of time in the Belter Militia. Odd that she wasn’t in command, actually. She’s got the rank and the time in service.”

  The door slid open, and a tall, dark-skinned woman with furious rage in her eyes came bursting onto the bridge, racing towards Corrigan, arm raised with clenched fist ready to strike.

  “That’s far enough,” Dixon said, pistol suddenly in hand. “Let’s try and conduct ourselves like civilized people.” Glancing at Corrigan, he added, “I did warn you, skipper.”

  “Nobody likes a smart ass,” Corrigan replied.

  “Civilized people?” Falco said. “You’re a bunch of murderers. Do you know just how many you killed on that station? More than a thousand. You understand? Including almost a hundred children that were being evacuated to the Belt. You tell me how you wash that much blood off your hands. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “We didn’t do it,” Novak protested.

  “The rebels aren’t exactly keeping us in the loop,” Corrigan said. “It looks very much as though we were intended to provide some sort of decoy from their attack plan.” He paused, then added, “Have you got proof?”

  “Proof? Why, so you can use it as propaganda in your sick game?”

  “No, so I can have it for the war crimes tribunal,” he replied. Falco took a step back, and he added, “Either we’re better than the Belt or there’s no damned point fighting this war at all. If this is how we have to prove that, then I guess that’s just how it is going to have to be.” He looked at her, and said, “You’re a local. Where do you stand?”

  “I stand on the side that doesn’t butcher innocent people.”

  “I could argue with that,” Corrigan began, but before she could reply, he continued, “Though this is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. I want your input on the current strategic situation.”

  “Like hell,” she replied. “You think I’m going to help you?”

  “No, I think you’re going to help those innocents you keep talking about. Right now we’ve got fighting in every part of the planet below, and I hate to think that the current death toll is. That number is going to rise every moment. What I need right now is your assistance to turn this off.”

  “Turn it off?” she asked.

  “A ceasefire, a negotiated surrender,” Novak said. “Squadron Leader, you’ve lost this battle. You know that. Whatever your personal feelings might be, it’s evident that the bulk of the population no longer want to live under the control of the Belters, and they’re choosing to express that in the most forceful manner possible. They’re not going to stop until your side surrenders.”

  “She’s right,” Corrigan said. “So, where do you stand?”

  “With the side that isn’t currently undertaking a massacre,” she said. “Just how much control over this do you actually have. If I take you at your word, and in all frankness, I am not at all certain that I do, then you’re no more able to bring the fighting to an end than I am.”

  “First satellite is away,” Crawford reported. “The rest should release automatically. I’m heading down to Engineering.” He rose from his seat, and added, “The entire network should be deployed in six minutes.”

  “That, Squadron Leader, is the ability I have to bring this to an end. We’re shortly going to have complete control of the planetary communication network. That’s the edge we need.” He paused, then added, “They’re in the middle of a firefight. It’s hard to think logically under those conditions. Trust me on this, I know. Sometimes it takes a new perspective to bring things back under some sort of control. Or would you prefer that this just goes on?”

  She took a deep breath, and said, “I want your solemn word that the destruction of the station will be investigated, and that if it was a deliberate act, if that station was destroyed knowing that the civilian population hadn’t been given a chance to evacuate, that you will see that charges will be filed.”

  “You have my personal guarantee,” Corrigan replied.

  “Let me see what I can do,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll need a secure communications link.” She looked at the sensor feed, and added, “There’s a nice-sized mob outside the Residence. That’s not going to help.”

  “One of the shuttles landed close,” Singh said. “Which means it’s a nice-sized armed mob by now. What sort of protection does the Governor have? How much security?”

  “Not enough,” Falco replied. “Not anywhere near enough.” She shook her head, leaning over the microphone.

  “I have the imagery from Shuttle Seven now,” Singh added. “It’s a mess down there. Looks like someone turned the shuttle’s engines into a blowtorch. There’s a full-scale battle. Gunfire, comm traffic’s crazy, and there’s a storm overhead that’s building to something major. I wouldn’t give much of a chance for anyone locked up down there.”

  “And that’s where Todorova is desperate to go,” Corrigan said. “She couldn’t have had a chance to look at any of the sensor data before making her request. She wouldn’t even have known what was going on down there. What makes it so damned important?”

  “Some of those political prisoners are probably key figures in the resistance,” Dixon said, “but by now, they’ll have been thoroughly questioned by the Belters. Short of sentiment, they wouldn’t be my first target.”

  “I think we can rule that out,” Corrigan said. “See if there’s anything else going on. Singh, keep trying to contact Icarus. I need to speak to either Commodore McBride or Captain Harrison, right away.” He paused, turned to Falco, and asked, “Have you got through?”

  “For some reason I can’t quite fathom, they’re a little reluctant to talk, given where I’m transmitting from, but I think I’m making progress.”

  Nodding, Corrigan said, “Keep at it.”

  “Just what can you offer?” Falco asked. “The rebels outnumber you about a thousand to one, and this ship isn
’t exactly large.”

  “At a pinch,” Corrigan replied, “We could evacuate a hundred people. We’d be willing to do that for anyone not actually facing charges of their own against the civilian population, and the final court of appeal on that would be me, not whatever local administration ends up running things here.”

  “Can you enforce that?” she asked.

  “If they’re willing to get into shuttles and come here of their own volition, sure,” Corrigan said. “Once they’re off the surface, all the advantage are ours. Right now, Avenger effectively owns orbital space.”

  She paused, looked down, then said, “I’ve got a reply, if it helps.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Maybe. It’s progress, anyway. Text only. There’s a lot of jamming.”

  “Confirmed,” Singh said. “It was sent tight-beam and encrypted, in a coding that we didn’t realize the Belters had.”

  “Go on,” Corrigan said.

  Falco looked at the text, and said, “The Governor, his staff and their families are secure in the Residence for now, but the battle’s getting heavy out there. He wants safe passage to orbit for everyone inside. Eighty-five people. And the rebels hold the local spaceport.”

  “And in return?”

  “Surrender, with the only condition the safety of his people.”

  Nodding, Corrigan said, “Get me McBride or Harrison. Tell them we have a chance to end this now. And for God’s sake, don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. We’re running out of time.”

  “So are they,” Falco said. “So are they.”

  Chapter 16

  “Let’s go, let’s go!” Clarke yelled, leading his troops through the newly created breach in the walls, Carter following in the second wave, rifle in hand. She’d had full blueprints of the facility, going in, and knew precisely where she was going. A pair of rebels followed her as she broke away from the main body of the group, taking shots at a gang of Belter guards attempting and failing to rally from the devastation of their first assault.

  Overhead, she heard a loud roar, a shuttle coming in for landing, and her first thought was the dread that the enemy had managed to conjure up some reinforcements, worked a miracle that might yet turn the balance of power back in their favor, but she quickly recognized the sleek shape of a Terran shuttle, not a vehicle that she’d expect to see in Belter hands.

  Avenger had arrived, and better yet, had sent help. She reached for her communicator, taking shelter in the rubble of a wall as she attempted to contact the ship. Only the roar of static replied, a combination of jamming and the interference from the storm brewing over head.

  “Clarke,” she yelled. “Knock out the communications system. They’re blocking our signals. We’ve got to contact someone outside the perimeter and let them know what’s happening, or we might as well write off the wounded.”

  “We’re on our way,” he said, leading the bulk of his men on a glorious charge towards the command building, where an assortment of guards was struggling to assemble improvised barricades out of the rubble, trying to put up some sort of a fight.

  It was insane, of course. There was no way that they could win. Not in a million years. The rebels had too much strength on their side, and no matter how long they held them off, ultimately, they’d be able to reduce this installation to rubble, even if it took aerial bombardment. She looked at the twisted remains of one of the laser cannons, battered and beaten, useless.

  The Belters would still fight, though. What else could they do. There was no other option for them. The rebels wouldn’t let them live. The best case they could likely expected would be a kangaroo court and a firing squad. After what she’d seen in orbit, the destruction of the orbital station, she’d expect nothing less from the people she was forced to call allies.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed on, heading towards the detention area. A single guard was holed up in a foxhole outside the building, operating a machine gun that rattled into the smoke-filled air. She skidded down, diving into cover as bullets hammered into the ground all around her, barely escaping with her life.

  “Anyone got a grenade?” she asked, looking at her two rebel guards. Both of them looked back at her, and she waited for the gunfire to intensify before leaping forward, firing wildly at the guard, weaving from side to side in order to avoid the enemy fire. She heard a dull click, her rifle jammed, and she swung it by the butt at the soldier, knocking him cold as she raced past, into the compound. She looked at the aged Russian weapon, shook her head and tossed it away, instead pulling her service pistol from her belt, checking its charge level with a quick glance.

  “Three levels up, right at the top,” she said. Looking at the two rebels, she picked the one that looked marginally more experienced, and said, “You, sweep this floor, free any prisoners, check for charges.”

  “I thought we were meant to stick with you,” the rebel protested.

  “And I thought that you were going to obey my orders,” she replied. “I strongly suggest that you take the option of not disappointing me. Move!” She raced for the stairs, taking them two at a time, not waiting to see if her remaining bodyguard was able to keep up. Outside, the rattle of gunplay was drowned out by the shuttle once again, and she looked through a window to see the vehicle settling down inside the compound, already showing the effects of blast damage on the hull.

  “Crazy,” she said, shaking her head. She turned to see a young man frantically tearing something from the wall, who looked up at her with terror in his eyes as she raced towards him.

  “A charge,” the man said, and she snatched the bomb from his hands, throwing it out of the window and diving to the floor, seconds before the detonation that shook the building, sending dust and debris crashing from the ceiling. The man looked out at the new crater below, coughing as he fumbled for his respirator, Carter tugging it from his clumsy hands and strapping it over his mouth, activating it with the touch of a button.

  “Breathe deep,” she said. “I guess you don’t want to die.”

  Shaking his head, the body said, “They left me behind. I only worked out why at the last minute. Said I should take care of the prisoners.”

  “Did you?” she asked. “Damn it, did you?”

  “No,” he replied, holding up a pistol, the charge still full. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. Not in cold blood.” Tears threatened the corner of his eyes, and he added, “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? Oh God, God, I’m going to die. I’m going to die!”

  “Not today,” she said, tossing his pistol out of the window. “You want some free advice? Find somewhere quiet, hide, and wait until the fighting stops before you surrender. Better to do it when people aren’t looking out for the next bullet or laser bolt heading their way. Got that?”

  “Why?” he asked, still trembling.

  “Damned if I know,” she replied, pressing on, racing up the stairs to the upper level, pistol still in hand, leaving the defeated boy behind her. She reached the top level, now abandoned, another charge strapped to the wall, this one deactivated, smashed to pieces with the timer locked at ‘thirty-one’ for what she hoped would be forever. She didn’t have the equipment to even attempt to disarm the device in any case, and she certainly didn’t have any more time to waste.

  “Wait a minute,” her remaining bodyguard said.

  “Don’t be a fool,” she replied. “If you can’t keep up, then get the hell out of here.” As she climbed the last steps, she peered through the doors at the top, looking to see if anyone was waiting for her, before belatedly realizing that if the building was to be destroyed, only the expendable would have been left behind, and in all probability they would have attempted to work out their own salvation. A twenty-meter drop was far more survivable than the explosive demolition of the building.

  There were four cells on the top floor. Three of them were open, and the people within were never going to leave again. She looked at the bodies, all of them killed with a projectile we
apon, not a laser pistol. That meant that there was someone else up here, or that the kid she’d seen on the stairs was the finest actor she’d ever seen.

  That left the fourth cell, and she hastily worked the controls, entering the combination that had been provided in the briefing pack, forcing the door open to reveal the emaciated man within, looking up to her with tired, sad eyes as she entered the cell, battered emergency respirator on his face.

  “Sam Bellini?” she asked. He nodded, and she added, “We’d better get you out of here at once, Mr. President. Can you walk?”

  “President?” Bellini asked. “What…”

  “The revolution, as you can probably hear, is happening. This isn’t a raid. Atlantis has declared independence from the Belt, and is making it stick. You have been named as Interim President pending free elections.”

  Shaking his head, Bellini said, “I wouldn’t have accepted when I had my health. I’m tired. So damn tired.”

  “Damn it, sir, dozens of people have died to free you!”

  “And I didn’t ask them to throw their lives away on such a worthless cause,” he replied. He struggled to rise, then said, “Can you help?”

  “Of course, sir,” she replied, reaching down to him. “If we can get you down to the ground floor, there’s a shuttle waiting to take you to a secured medical facility.” She looked over him, and said, “According to your last physical examination, there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with you, sir. A proper dietary regime and a few supplements will get you moving again.”

  “The scars are mental, not physical,” he said. “You have me at a disadvantage. Is this a Republic victory?”

  She glanced at her uniform, and said, “After a fashion. We’re providing aid and assistance to the rebellion, but it’s your party, not ours.” There was a loud explosion outside, and she added, “That sounds like they managed to knock out the communications jammer. I should be able to reach the ship now. Maybe we can get a doctor down here to you.”