“I have some business to attend to on board,” he said heavily, flicking the safety off on his blaster pistol.
Val and Irie stole through the corridors of the Merriman’s Court, leaving El and Cassandra in the doorway to their room. They breathed shallowly, and their mouths were pursed, but the captain wondered if all their anxiety was unwarranted. This part of the ship appeared to be in sleep mode, with purple-pink phased lights glowing in a muted way, and no sound from anywhere nearby.
“I hope we weren’t the only ones drunk last night,” El said, seeing a nod of agreement from Cassandra.
“Do you know where the nearest satellite array is? Transmitter controls?” she breathed to him.
“No. I never wanted to spend longer than a few days on board the Court on previous visits.” El shrugged, then nodded down the corridor. “But I know that all of the command infrastructure, the flight decks, and logistical rooms are up in the prow. I reckon that is as good a place to start as any.”
Another nod, and the pair moved along the corridor at a fast jog.
It turned out that the captain’s first assumption had been right after all, when they passed the first guard station where a nubile young man with a tall photon rifle across his lap was fast asleep in his booth. It seemed that last night was a cause of celebration for everyone. El frowned, carefully stepping around the guard.
“Wait,” Cassandra hissed, stooping down to retrieve a small identity card from the sentry’s utility belt. “We might need this for the doors ahead.”
“Is that what they teach you in spy school? How to steal?” El hissed once they had tiptoed around the corner.
“Yes. And lie through my teeth.” Cassandra smiled wolfishly. “There—a lift.”
The first attempt to get the lift to open resulted in an angry red light, and it was only when Cassandra waved the guard’s identity card in front of the lift controls that it turned green and the doors whisked open. Once inside, a small schematic of the major areas of the Merriman’s Court revealed that these lifts shot down the middle artery of the vessel from prow to aft and could also ascend and descend shafts to different levels.
“No sense in taking our time, right?” He selected the Control Floor, right at the forward hub of the Court.
“No.” Cassandra raised her blaster, and tensed.
Ping! The door opened, to reveal a doorway bristling with guns.
“Now, that’s no way to treat an old friend now, is it?” El said through clenched teeth. He had his blaster at the ready, as did Agent Cassandra beside him, but they were facing at least three times their number. We might be able to take out one each, maybe two once they got us, but that would still leave two extra guns firing at us. El paused. His eyes flickered over the guards. They were the same tall, impassive models that he had seen earlier, and each one had that dead-eyed stare that said they wouldn’t have any qualms about shooting—or dying, for that matter.
“And when does an old friend start sneaking around his host’s boat with guns drawn?” said Max’s voice from somewhere behind the spread of bodyguards. The pair could see glimpses of the control deck around them: wide and semi-circular, with the forward-facing wall given over to stretch screens.
“I’ve had camera drones on from the moment that you first arrived, Eliard.” Gone were the voluptuous tones of before from the captain and owner of the Court. Now, he talked in flat practicalities.
“Why?” El asked, which he knew was a dumb question, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Guns down first, Captain.” Max’s tone was insistent.
El glanced at Cassandra at his side, who appeared to be just as angry at the situation as he was, but they could both see that neither of them had any choice.
“Fine.” He released his grip, allowing the blaster to slid upside down.
“And on the floor. Slowly. I know how great a fan you are of reckless heroics,” Max said.
“The reckless part I can see, but heroics?” El quipped, but he did as he was asked, carefully crouching to set his blaster on the floor of the lift as Cassandra did the same beside him.
“There now, that’s better. Guards?” At their commander’s suggestion, the women and men gestured for the pair to follow them into the control deck and picked up their blasters after them.
El found himself staring at the form of Maximillus, who sat on what could only be described as a golden throne. Whereas El liked to have a perching seat with a full ship’s wheel like the Navy and racers did, it seemed that Merriman preferred the much more traditionally noble affectation of having a command chair with his piloting wheel given over to another member of staff. It was encrusted with gold, and control panels swept down the arms in a complicated array of buttons and lights.
“Why, Max?” El asked again as the bodyguards stopped them just inside the control deck. Semi-circular desks sat facing the screens, with the pilot seated in the middle of the lower level.
“Because my aerials have been full of word of your predicament, Eliard.” The man’s eyes were cold. “That you tried to stiff Trader Hogan. That you were no longer welcome in the Traders’ Belt. At first, I thought that this was just another pleasing anecdote. I even felt sorry for you, would you believe? I told myself that if you came into my nebula that I would even help you, but…”
The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Then I started hearing rumors of something very tasty being unearthed in Tritho System, and imagine how surprised I was to hear that a racing-class Mercury was spotted making moonfall!” He spread his gloved hands like it was a simple matter. “I started reaching out, Eliard. Asking questions. That is how I found out what Bator of House Archival was doing, sending his little scamps out to infiltrate Armcore.” He gave a generous nod toward Cassandra, who only glared. “Is it any surprise when you consider how much that thing she carries is worth? And more than that, Eliard, I did it because I am tired. I am tired of living this junkyard life out on the margins. I want back in. I want to be seated at the Imperial Council like Merrimans have for over five hundred years! I want to see the latest fashions. Eat the latest cuisine, not scraps we can ferret from passing guildships.”
“You were always after your rose wine, Max,” El said sadly.
“Yes. Is that so great a crime?” Max said indignantly.
“It is when it costs you your friends,” the captain spat back.
“We were never friends, Eliard. We were just two lesser sons of great imperial houses. I am clever enough to know which star is shining right now, and it is Armcore’s. You would have done well to beg forgiveness from your father and go back to the academy!” Max said the last words thunderously, and El felt any kindness he had for the man evaporate in the white heat of rage.
Never, he promised himself. I will never go back.
“Hand it over, Miss Milan, before I tell my guards to burn a hole through your back and pluck it from your corpse.” Max sneered.
Cassandra didn’t move.
BWARP! Incoming Message! One of the consoles at the front of the control deck lit up.
“It’s from the admiral, sir,” said one of the svelte Merriman Court officers. “The fleet is arriving outside the nebula, and he awaits our response.”
The large screens flickered and flashed, suddenly showing a view from the edge of the Bruno Nebula, where the Court must have had small satellite drones stationed. El started to sweat as he saw the stars change in intensity, slide and glom together as if seen through a viscous liquid, before there whumped into existence the Armcore battle group. There were three Gorgon battleships, already starting to turn and move into a wide semi-circular position, and over them sat the hulk of the battle cruiser, already starting to spill attack-fighters into the space between the stars. El was pleased to see that the cruiser had at least been damaged by the Traders’ Belt. There were large swathes of blackened, twisted metal along one side where the plasma cannons and missiles had hit.
But it wasn’t enough to stop it. Does
that mean that the Traders’ Belt lost? The captain was surprised that he felt a pang of homesickness for that disreputable place. Is the Belt destroyed?
“Tell him that we have the device, but I need assurances,” Max called out. “He knows the terms: ten billion credits deposited as a good will gesture, and a full pardon by the Imperial Coalition.”
“Aye, sir.”
“You toad, Max,” El snapped. “You know that they’ll treat you just the same as before. The imperial houses will laugh at you behind your back, and Armcore will strip Merriman of every asset it has…”
“They might,” Max said genially. “But you reveal the depths of your naiveté, Captain. That was always what the imperial houses did. You believed that hogwash they told you at the academy, didn’t you? That the noble houses were there to protect the people, to keep space safe from the invaders, to further knowledge?” Max laughed a deep belly-roll of a laugh.
Maybe I did… Eliard blushed furiously.
“The Coalition has always been a poker game, Eliard, and right now, I am the one holding all the aces.”
“Terms accepted, sir, and…” The officer clattered his fingers over his controls. “Ten billion credits applied to your name through data-space transfer!” The officer sounded wide-eyed and breathless.
“Ah.” A pleased sound from the small Merriman. “Now, Cassandra? Hand over the device.”
“No.” Cassandra wouldn’t budge, and when Eliard looked at her, he could see tears in her eyes. “I won’t do it. I can’t.”
“Fine.” Max raised a hand to his guards.
“Wait!” El said desperately, then to Cassandra. “Cass… It’s over. There’s nothing you can do. Don’t die for the likes of him!”
She held his gaze for a moment as the guards behind them also waited with their guns levelled. A small nod. “Okay.” She reached into a pocket to draw out the data-stick that contained the hybrid AI, and the guards moved to seize it from her. “One moment.” She decoupled the cables that held the secure-lock panel in place and slapped it into the hands of the nearest female guard. “There. I hope you’re happy with what you get,” she mumbled.
“Extremely. Upload the data to the admiral on my command, Officer.” Max beamed, settling back into his chair. “And ask the admiral about my pardon again, will you?”
The guard gave the data-stick to the nearest officer, who attached it to the console with power cables and waited for Maximillus’s nod.
“Personal assurance from the admiral, sir,” the officer stated. “And an official data-space press release to follow.”
“Excellent. Transmit the contents to the cruiser then, let’s not keep the poor man waiting!” Max rubbed his hands together as the officer tapped the console and the red blinking light on the data-stick turned an active green.
“Sorry,” Cassandra breathed at El, with tears still in her eyes.
What does she mean? What has she done!? El’s eyes widened.
11
Birth
Val and Irie were racing through the corridors of the Merriman’s Court, and it felt like the entire boat was deserted. Thankfully, they had moved out of the ‘sleep zone’ of purple and pink lights, but they found themselves in halls and corridors that were similarly quiet.
Where is everyone? Irie thought. “I don’t like this,” she muttered.
“No. On Dur, we would say that this is the net that catches the Chuabra.” He shook his head. Irie had no idea what a ‘Chuabra’ was, but if it lived on that world of uplifted trolls, then she thought that it must be big, and dangerous.
“You know what, let’s try something else…” Irie turned to one of the nearest service panels, getting it open with a brief application of her infinite tools and a bit of brute force. It revealed thick cables and coils of glowing wire behind. “Okay, let’s see if we can isolate the mains array…” She fiddled with the wires, first selecting one and then the other, before electing to grab a fistful of green-yellow lines and snipping them with her cutters.
FZZZT! A shower of sparks from up ahead as all the corridor lights blinked off, one after another in a wave of darkness that spread outward from their position. Irie waited, watching the line of darkness hit the nearest intersection of corridors, and then for there to be a surprised grunt of angered voices.
“Hey!”
“Oh, space-crap!”
“What have they done?”
“Get your lights up!”
Beams of personal flashlights speared from both sides of the crossroads. Yeah, those drekkers were waiting for us. Irie glanced up at the Duergar, with his fang-filled grin. The pair flattened themselves to the walls and readied their weapons as the panicked whispers continued.
“Right, we’ll have to go get them…”
“You first. Have you seen the size of the Duergar?”
Fighting in the dark was easy, Irie reflected as the first light swung out from the corridor. Well, it is if you don’t care what you’re hitting. She raised her heavy blaster, already set to automatic fire, and screamed as she opened fire at the light.
Val had his own heavy blaster in his hand, and with a growl, fired several rapid-fire shots that took out flashlights and created screams of agony. Irie felt rather than saw the big gunner move in the dark, his large body rolling across the corridor as he took up position again and fired as Irie kept up her automatic rain of death.
THUDDUDUD-DUHR! They returned fire, but the people of Merriman’s Court were no match for two trained space mercenaries. Even though Irie’s own eyes were blinded by the muzzle fire, she kept targeting the lights and holding the trigger down until her gun whined with its empty barrels.
“Good. Done.” Val was growling, and she could see his outline from one of the dropped lights on the floor. There were other mangled shapes on the floor as well, but Irie didn’t look too close at those.
“Come on. I’m sure that will attract attention.” Irie ignored the available lights and ran down the corridor in the dark, with Val already ahead of her with his enhanced, Duergar eyes. They passed the sudden openings of other corridors crossing their paths, and they heard distant shrieks and shouts of horror and anger before they got to where Irie had wanted to go.
“Down here.” She thumped on the closed doors of the lift, hitting all of the buttons that she could see, but they wouldn’t budge.
“Let me see…” Val handed the engineer his gun, before drawing out a large metal spike from his boot.
“I thought the captain said nothing but blasters?” Irie breathed.
“Yeah, but this isn’t even automated. It’s hardly a weapon at all…” Val said, before plunging it into the seal between the doors with a spark of metal on metal, and then growling as he used it to lever the doors open. Light suddenly flooded out from the lift shaft; the lift itself was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a circular tube with steel ladders running up and down.
“I think I know the way.” Irie was the first to swing herself out and start to climb down. We didn’t travel far from the hangar dock to that reception hall, did we? she reasoned, scanning the walls around her as she descended, with the huge form of the troll following above.
There. She saw numbers painted next to the ladder. Simple engineer’s lettering that indicated which floor each closed door was. She smiled. That’s what everyone forgets about spaceships, she thought. The captain might think they’re in charge, the commanders might think they own them, but it’s the engineers who built the darn things.
The pair climbed toward the hangar bay where the Mercury should be waiting for them, just as a shudder ran through the entire ship.
The lights flickered in the control deck as El’s eyes shot to the woman at his side. “Cass? What did you do?” he hissed.
The agent just smiled a tight, small smile, but the captain could see no great satisfaction there. Her jaw was clenched tight and her fists balled.
FZZT! There was a sudden crackle of blue light as one of the consoles burs
t, causing shouts of alarm from the operators.
“Eliard!” Merriman’s voice rose to a shriek, but the captain was already moving. He didn’t need an invitation to cause more mayhem. With a spin on one heel, he backhanded the guard behind him whilst grappling for the laser blaster. Already, the other guards were trying to react, raising their weapons—
THOOOM! Two of the wall screens burst into plastic splinters, and the lights strobed.
Seeing the room in the strobe of flashing lights, El was already ducking to one knee, rolling forward to collide with the next guard and bowl her over. He just hoped that Cassandra was as quick as he was.
Thuddududhr! The room buzzed with energy as lasers scorched the metal floor, and El was springing back up to his feet and jamming his gun into the side of Merriman’s neck.
“I’ll kill him!” the captain screamed, trying to half-hide behind the throne as the room shook.
“Eliard! What did you do!? Unhand me!” Merriman was struggling, but that only made El push the gun even harder into the folds of soft flesh.
“Shut up, Max.” El looked for Cassandra, but she wasn’t standing where she had been. Was she dead? No. She had knocked aside the pilot at the wheel and was standing before the last remaining screen.
“Cass?” El called. “We’re out of here. No time for…”
“I’ll hunt you down for this, Eliard. To the ends of the galaxy if I have to…” Max was snarling. The guards in the room had frozen however, their faces a mixture of alarm and frustration as they saw their master and leader squealing like a pig.
“Yeah, don’t think I won’t put a hole through him,” El spat. “But I’ll start with the bits that don’t kill you, like the feet and the hands. When I’m done, there won’t be much you can have back, unless you lay all your weapons on the floor and take three steps back, right now!”
The model-like guards exchanged looks, but with another savage prod of El’s blaster and the accompanying screech of panic from Maximillus, they complied.
Valyien Boxed Set 1 Page 9
