by B. V. Larson
“If you’d made the rendezvous on time, you might have been around to prevent it!”
Loco’s forced cheeriness evaporated. “Oh, that’s what you’re pissed about? That I wasn’t here to do your job? I wasn’t the one that lost her, jackass!” He kicked Straker unexpectedly in the knee and chopped at the hand holding his collar, breaking free. “But I’ll find her, if that’s what you want. Or you can keep this shit up and go it alone again.”
“Yeah… You find her,” Straker snarled, poking Loco in the chest. “Kraxor will brief you.” He grabbed Tachina’s arm in a painful grip. “Me and your girlfriend have got a few things to talk about.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Straker left Loco standing there stunned while he dragged Tachina roughly out the door onto the bridge, where everyone turned to stare. Kraxor followed at a distance, apparently watching his back.
“Ow, you’re hurting me!” Tachina said.
Straker changed his grip to grasp a handful of her stylish velvet jacket.
Her tone changed, becoming kittenish. “Where are you taking me, Derek? Your love nest?”
“That’s not gonna work on me this time. I’ve learned some things about you.” He marched her toward the brig, past surprised crew and marines, mostly Breakers who he recognized. It looked like Heiser had already tightened security near the command area.
When they reached the brig he shoved her into an empty cell, followed and closed the door behind him. “I hear you’re addictive. Like nectar. That explains a lot, how you get into men’s heads.”
Tachina shrugged coyly. “Not just men. Women, too. Take me as yours and I’m sure I can find a few that’ll put the frosting on your cake, just like I did with Johnny. Gods, that man is a stud, but I’m sure you can top him.”
Straker lifted a hand to slap her, and then put it down. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to seduce me or piss me off, but—”
“How about both? You know, make-up sex is the best there is.” She shrugged out of her jacket and leaned forward, showing off deep cleavage. “Go ahead, knock me around some. I can take it, and when you’re tired of that, I’ll give you a ride you’ll never forget.”
Mastering himself, Straker shook his head. “No. That won’t work on me. I turned down the nectar, and I can turn you down too.”
Her eyes lit. “Oh, you have nectar? I could use a hit right now. We can do it together!”
“No hit, no nectar. Just answers. Do you concubines really control the Committee?”
Tachina smiled. “Ooh, somebody’s been blabbing. Control? Not really. Just like any playthings, we’ve figured out ways to influence the people who have power over us. It’s self-preservation.”
“Then why aren’t you still there, on Unison, with your orgies every Thursday and Saturday?”
Tachina pouted. “Oh, I overplayed my hand, I admit. I got sloppy, let a sweet young thing get between me and my principal, and I was cast out like Eve from Eden.”
“Like who?” Straker asked.
“Oh, God, you are so obtuse at times. Read a book, will you?”
“I read lots of books; just not your sort, I guess. So you screwed up, ended up in the camps, and been working your way up ever since, right?”
Tachina fished in her jacket for a smokestick and lit it. Taking a drag, she said, “What’s a girl to do? It’s not like I have other marketable skills.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll be separating you concubines from your whoring when I take over, so you’d better sign up for some classes.”
“So much for the great Liberator, restricting everyone’s freedom you don’t like. Who are you to tell people who to have sex with or what jobs to do?”
Straker didn’t have anything to say to that. As usual, this woman could talk rings around him. Maybe she was Loco’s perfect match, if only his friend wouldn’t fall under her biochemical spell. For now, though, he didn’t have time to dick around with her. “Whatever. You’ll be staying here until we find Carla.”
She took a drag. “I can help with that.”
“What? How?”
“Let me go and I’ll try to find her. Believe me, I can get info out of all sorts of people you don’t even know exist.”
“On a ship of war?” he scoffed.
“Especially on a warship.” She made a faintly obscene gesture. “All it takes is one hard cock and a little pillow talk. But if I find her, you’ll leave me alone, right?”
Straker considered. He couldn’t afford to turn down any possibility right now. “You find her, you can go, but you have to dump Loco and never see him again. You’ll be sent to Ruxin, where they’re immune to your charms. They’re nice, charitable people, the squids. I’m sure they can find you a job.”
“Your word I’ll go free, just like any other citizen?”
“Just like any other citizen—which means if you commit crimes, you’ll be punished.”
“Deal.” She held out a hand to shake.
Straker ignored it and backed out the door. “Go on. Find Carla and I’ll be very grateful.”
Tachina smiled that leopardess smile and sashayed out of the brig, past Kraxor, who moved to join Straker.
Just then Straker’s handtab beeped with an incoming call. He took it out and stared at the thing. He hardly ever used its voicecom function. That’s what comlinks were for. The screen showed a connection to Carla’s handtab.
Hoping against hope, he activated it. “Carla?”
“Sorry,” said the unfortunately familiar voice on the other end. “She’s busy spreading her legs for some of my men right now.”
“Ramirez! You touch one hair on her head and—”
“Yeah, yeah. You want her back?”
His mind raced, and he began walking quickly toward the bridge as he talked. “In return for what?”
“You in an incinerator would be nice, but I’ll settle for the Mindspark Device.”
“What? The thing that made Indy?”
“That’s it. Can you imagine what it’s worth to the right people? The Hundred Worlds, for example?”
“How do you even know about that?”
Ramirez laughed. “Your operational security is pathetic, Straker. Your organization leaks like a sieve. You’re an amateur.”
“Are you calling to bitch at me or make a deal?”
“Let me lay it out for you. Lover-girl is taped up tight where you’ll never find her, and she has only a few hours of air in a very small, sealed room. If my people don’t open the door from time to time, she’ll die, so don’t get the idea you can just wait me out or hunt me down.”
“How do I know she’s even alive?”
“You don’t. But if you don’t give me what I want, she’s dead for sure.”
Straker reached the bridge, but didn’t open the hatch. “So how do we make the exchange?”
“Simple. I have a fast scout waiting near docking port 14C. Deliver the Device there and let the ship leave unmolested, and I’ll tell you where Carla is. Try anything and I’ll toss a nerve gas grenade in with her.”
“I’ll have the thing to you within an hour.” Straker cut the call before Ramirez could waste any more time. He entered the bridge and jogged to the comtech station. “Get me a secure private comlink to Zaxby on Gryphon.”
“Comlink open.”
Straker moved away from everyone but Kraxor and spoke quietly, explaining the situation to Zaxby, and how he should handle the tradeoff. “You think you can do it?”
“We can do it,” said Zaxby. “Indy and I. She’s already working on it.”
Straker cut the link and called for a connection to Loco. “Tell everyone to keep searching, but if you see anything suspicious, cordon and notify me. We can’t spook them into killing her.”
“Ah… Derek?” Loco said. “Ramirez’s got a huge hard-on for you. You really think she’ll let Carla live?”
“You’re just a bundle of joy, buddy.”
“Hey, I calls ’em as I sees ’
em. It sucks, but it’s better to face facts. We need a rescue plan.”
“You and me, Loco. That’s the plan. Once we pinpoint her, we’ll go in and take out whatever guards she has and rescue her. We’re faster and tougher than anyone else aboard.”
“Wish we had stealth suits.”
“Maybe we do. Ask around and get back to me.”
“I already did, Derek. First thing I thought of.”
Straker mentally kicked himself for not thinking of that before Loco… and then something occurred to him. “Actually, we have thousands aboard.”
“What? We do?”
“Ruxin skin camouflage.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“So, you find her. I’ll bring the naked squids. Straker out.” He turned to Kraxor. “I’ll need some of your warriors.”
***
Seven hours passed with no change. During that time Engels had slipped the stylus out of her sleeve pocket and used it to laboriously weaken the fibertape holding her wrists. She cut strand by strand with the stylus’ graphene-composite tip as she appeared to sleep with her face and body turned toward the corner. She left a few of the strips intact for appearances’ sake, but she was pretty sure she could snap them when the time came.
The meter of braided tape connecting her ankle to the cot was more problematic, but at least the cot itself wasn’t attached to anything. It would make any movement awkward, but if she could get her hand on a knife she could cut it.
Time to make her move. She’d only sipped from the metallic liter bottle of water, so it still weighed close to a kilo. She set it on the deck next to the chem-toilet, turned her back, dropped her flight suit to her ankles and squatted. She’d observed that when she used the toilet before, the current two guards looked away with some reflex of decency, only watching her sidelong.
She hoped it was enough.
Hiding the motion, she wrapped the weakened tape across her left knee and flexed her arms. The leverage bruised her skin, but snapped the fibers. With her fingernails, she scraped the remnants of the tape from her wrists, freeing both hands.
Holding on to the braided tape, she crouched and pulled her flight suit up again, zipping it in place, her back still to the guards. Then she reached down smoothly and picked up the water flask.
Dropping the cut end of the tape, she spun and took two long strides toward the nearest guard. The second step dragged the cot along by the ankle fibertape, as expected, and she used the motion to sweep it sideways and around toward the second guard. At the same time, she swung the flask in a vicious arc against the first guard’s skull.
Fortunately, the first one’s instinct had been to try to fire his stunner at her rather than block the blow. A burst of energy made her left hip go numb, but the man crashed to the deck.
The swinging cot caught the other guard, a woman, in the legs. She cried out and triggered her stunner in reflex, but her aim was far off.
The weapon whined as it built charge again, giving Engels time to rush her opponent, slamming her flask into the woman’s shoulder, and then the upraised stunner she tried to block with. The bottle dented, and the stunner’s plastic stock cracked. Engels tried to follow it up with a kick, but her numbed hip betrayed her and the blow went weak and wide.
The woman dropped the stunner and scrabbled for her holstered needler, backing up rapidly. Engels stumbled forward, still dragging the cot, knowing this was her only chance. She launched herself desperately, clawing at the guard’s weapon hand.
The needler snapped as its tiny railgun fired a pin-sized bullet, and Engels felt a hot stab near her numbed hip, but by that time she’d gotten both hands on the woman’s fingers. Twisting with her superior strength, she broke her enemy’s thumb and the gun fell to the floor. She followed up with an armlock that immobilized the guard, and then Engels hammered the heel of her hand into the woman’s jaw, putting her out.
Gasping with pain and exertion, Engels took one of the guard’s knives and cut herself free. Her hip was bleeding. The needle had entered her side and traveled downward into her thigh, but fortunately the stunner’s numbness blocked most of the pain. She slapped a combat seal looted from the guard on the wound and tried to ignore it as she divested the guard of her harness and put it on. Needler in hand, she limped up the metal mesh steps to the pressure door and listened.
She couldn’t hear anything over the loud throb and wail of the hydraulic actuators and pumps. If she’d been Ramirez, she’d have guards outside to make sure nobody wandered into the makeshift prison. Screwing up her courage, she spun the dogging wheel and yanked the portal open, needler in hand.
Chapter 38
Battleship Indomitable, command bridge
“We have a lead,” said Loco to Straker on the comlink. “One of the squids spotted two armed civilians hanging around maintenance junction 1447-MG, by a hatch. He kept them under observation for long enough to determine they were doing nothing but keeping watch. Then he ran to report.”
“So they looked like guards,” replied Straker. Tixban punched up that section on the bridge hologram and Straker traced it with his finger. “We’ll meet you at 1450-MM. Don’t spook them!”
“Understood.” Loco clicked off.
Kraxor moved toward the door and said, “I’ve sent word for my best eight warriors to meet us there.”
Straker followed at a jog, comlink in his ear, comtech giving him directions to the location. The passageways had far fewer people in them now, and he was able to make rapid progress, arriving within a few minutes.
Loco, eight naked Ruxin warrior males, and a dozen marines were waiting, with Redwolf in a battlesuit. He shrugged at Straker’s quizzical look. “I know this is a stealth job, but you never know, sir.”
“Good thinking,” said Straker. “You cover our asses. But stay well back.” He turned to Kraxor. “Send in your people, slow and sneaky, with your skin camo. No weapons unless they can be concealed. You good with that?”
Kraxor stripped off his water suit until he wore nothing but a comlink deep in his auditory canal. “My males and I are masters of unarmed combat, and we are not afraid of injury. Unlike you humans, we can regenerate body parts without medical assistance.”
Straker ground his teeth with the desire to lead the charge, but that might get Carla killed. “Get moving, then. Approach from all directions if you can.”
“Have no fear, Admiral. We will do our utmost.”
“Go.”
The Ruxins moved off, almost invisible against the bulkheads.
***
When she hauled open the hatch, Engels startled two guards facing away from her. They were armed with blasters, so mercy was out of the question. With a two-handed shooter’s grip and the needler set on full automatic, she pulped the head of the nearest with one burst, and then fired a spray at the other, center mass.
Body armor stopped most of the tiny supersonic bullets, but she held down the trigger, firing at least a hundred rounds. The recoil lifted the barrel to the guard’s neck and stitched a line up his throat, tearing the right side of his jaw from his face and knocking him down.
She stopped, controlling her breathing and swinging the weapon left and right. There was only one way out of the dim antechamber, a short corridor to a well-lit four-way intersection. Before moving, she thought to check the needler charge. The spool of crysteel wire that supplied the projectiles held enough for a thousand rounds, but the energy reservoir showed low.
Engels fumbled a bit swapping magazines, the adrenaline of close order combat unfamiliar to her. She’d just snapped it in when she heard footsteps and voices coming toward her.
With no time to hide the bodies or grab a blaster, she took cover at the corner leading into the passageway and waited, aiming toward the intersection. As soon as the first man stepped out and she confirmed he was one of her kidnappers, she hosed him with needles.
He gurgled and went down, twitching redly upon the deck. The voices stopped out of sight, and then one
muttered something. A tinny match to the voice echoed from one of the fallen guard’s earpieces.
Engels used the time to back up and scrabble for a blaster, keeping an eye out in case they rushed her. Setting herself again, she waited.
Not for long. Something small—a gun barrel? An optical probe?—poked around the corridor. She fired a couple of shots at it, but it was too tiny and she was no master gunman. It must not have been a weapon, for it withdrew after a moment.
“Got ourselves in a little bit of a standoff,” she called out, hoping to stall. Maybe the shots had been heard and security forces were on their way. “That you, Ramirez?”
Nobody responded. Maybe the guerilla leader was too smart to be stalled. That meant a different tactic would be forthcoming—a rush using some kind of shield—or a grenade—
Someone flung an object around the corner toward her, and she rolled into the corner on the deck, face and hands in front of her against the blast… that never came. Instead, the hissing of gas filled the room.
Holding her breath and squinting, she charged the corridor, her only real chance to do something before the gas got her. No matter what it was—soporific, tear gas, nerve gas—she couldn’t afford to breathe it or even let it touch her if she could help it. She had to hope to win the fight—or if she lost, that they wanted her alive.
A shuffle of feet in front of her gave scant warning. She triggered a blaster shot and held down the trigger of her needler, but she ran smack into thugs in body armor. She and several fell in a tangle, and she caught a whiff of tear gas that set her coughing and her eyes watering. Her sinuses filled as her body went into emergency mode, trying to flush the chemical irritant.
The blaster was twisted out of her hand by a figure with a mask on. She rolled and triggered another needler burst, as someone kicked her in the side. Rolling again, she tried to shoot anything she saw until something knocked the handgun from her fist.
Somersaulting, Engels came to her feet to run away when Ramirez appeared to block her. The thug leader was masked, but her female form and pinned hair gave her away.
