by B. V. Larson
Engels tried to bull through her with momentum, but Ramirez swung the butt of her blaster upward toward Engels’ jaw. Engels got an arm in the way, but the blow jarred her elbow, numbing it, and the two fell in a heap.
Gassy mists swirled around them and Engels squeezed her eyes to burning slits. Her enemies might be able to breathe with their masks, but they couldn’t see any better than she could, so she grabbed Ramirez and wrestled with her. Feeling for the woman’s waist, she found the holster there and yanked the slugthrower handgun from it.
Hoping a combat soldier like Ramirez kept the weapon loaded and ready, she flipped the safety with her thumb and fired into the nearest body part she could touch. The weapon bucked in her hand, no doubt hot-loaded with armor-piercing rounds—which was Engels’ salvation. Her target gasped and grappled with her. Engels fired another round, and then another and another, before the hands relaxed and the body rolled off her.
A figure loomed over her and she aimed reflexively, but something effortlessly plucked the handgun from her grip. Arms immobilized her and she screamed in despair as she was lifted and carried away.
Almost! She’d almost done it.
“Bastards!” she gasped, deep in the throes of combat madness. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you all!”
Gradually she heard someone talking in her ears, speaking soothing words soft and low. The constriction loosened, and her stinging eyes cleared to reveal Derek’s face. Strong tentacles withdrew when she relaxed, coughing and retching from the gas.
“It’s all right. You’re safe now, love,” said Derek, kneeling beside her.
“I got her,” Engels coughed. “I got her. Ramirez. It was her.”
“I know, love, I know. I’m so proud of you. You did good, real good.”
She smiled up at him through the water streaming from her eyes. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Carla, you are one dangerous bitch,” said Loco’s unexpected, admiring voice from behind Derek.
“Lioness,” Derek corrected him, brushing Carla’s hair back from her forehead. “My lioness.”
“Rowr.” Engels lay back and let herself slide into unconsciousness.
***
Straker left Loco and Kraxor to clean up the scene of the crime. He carried Carla in his arms to the nearest infirmary with Redwolf and two marines bodyguarding. Placing her into the autodoc himself, he was mildly surprised to see Medic First Class Campos. It appeared she’d gotten herself assigned to Indomitable.
“We’ll take good care of her, sir,” the woman said, and then turned to her assistants. “Cut that uniform off. There’s blood all over her. I need to see skin to locate wounds. Come on, people, move it.”
Straker backed up and let the medical techs take over and prep Engels for the autodoc. When they closed the lid and started the diagnostic sequence, Campos turned to him. “She should be fine, sir, from the look of her.”
“Good.” He gazed at the wholesome young woman before him and felt a bit sad. “Look, ah, Med-First, it’s not really any of my business, but—”
Campos gave him a steady smile that hid pain beneath. “No worries, sir. Johnny and I—Commander Paloco, I mean—we’re over. It’s fine.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. Look, he’s a man-slut, okay? He’s never stuck with one woman for long, but he seemed to like you more than most, and—”
“And then that Tachina person came along and…”
“I know, but there’s something I just found out. You’re medical, maybe this will help. Tachina’s a clone, and she’s been genetically engineered for supercharged seduction. Pheromones, secretions, drugs in her saliva and her glands, mental conditioning and training, I don’t know. Loco had no more chance against her than an ordinary human has trying to go hand-to-hand with me.”
“So…it wasn’t his fault?”
“Not entirely. He’s still a jerk, and he still might have dumped you eventually, but…”
She forced a brave smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll wait and see if he comes to me on his own. If not…” she shrugged. “I’ll get over it.”
Straker put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Good. Hang in there. I’m proud of you.”
It occurred to him he’d said that twice within the space of an hour, both times to women, but he couldn’t recall saying it to anyone else in a long time. Maybe that should change. He envied Benota and DeChang and their easy manners, each different but also very much the same—confident in themselves and their people without having to work at it.
He activated his comlink. “Loco, you done yet?”
“Gimme an hour, boss. We got prisoners, some wounded, and cleanup. I want to do this right. How’s Carla?”
“She’s fine. And thanks, Johnny. I really appreciate your diligence. Meet me at the flag mess when you’re done and let’s have a beer or three, all right?”
Silence crackled over the comlink for a moment, and then Loco spoke. “Sure, Derek. I’ll be there. Loco out.”
“Sir? She wants to speak to you,” said Campos from the autodoc.
Straker looked down through the crystal canopy and smiled at Engels. The machine evidently had her paralyzed and numb from the waist down because it was doing some ugly surgery on her thigh wound.
She lifted a hand and waved lazily. “Der’k. Der’k. Tryin’ to remember som’n.”
“She’s sedated,” said Campos apologetically.
“It’s all right,” he replied. “What is it, hon?”
“Ramirez…”
“She’s gone.”
“Good. No, I mean, she said… som’n. Said som’n about DeChang. That he was a nice guy for… or… som’n.”
Straker raised his eyebrows and put a hand on the canopy. “She was praising DeChang?”
“Mercy…said he was merciful, keep me alive. Think…he did it.”
“You think he put Ramirez up to the kidnapping?”
“Mebbe. Hmm…sorry…sleep…” Her head lolled and a petite snore escaped her lips.
Straker whirled on his heel. “Take care of her, Campos,” he yelled as he jogged toward the bridge. Redwolf left two marines in the infirmary, and then followed in his battlesuit.
When Straker stepped into the conference room he approached DeChang with a glare. “Come with me,” he snapped, and led the man to his flag chair on the bridge, far enough from anyone to speak in low tones without being overheard.
“What is it, Liberator?” DeChang said blandly, with a measured smile.
“She’s dead.”
DeChang’s face fell in apparently sincere grief. “I’m so sorry, Admiral Straker. What can I do?”
Straker let DeChang misunderstand and think he meant Engels. He was looking for anything out of place in the man’s reactions. He raised an accusing finger. “It’s your fault.”
DeChang’s face blanked. “My fault?”
“Ramirez.”
“You can’t blame me for her actions.”
“Can’t I?”
“I didn’t tell her to do this. I admit I let her go, but how could I anticipate a crazy plan like this? Clearly, you were right. She’s a menace, and even worse now that she got away with that device. That’s not my fault.”
Straker mimicked surprise. “She got away with it?”
“Your Ruxin delivered it to that scout ship on schedule, and it took off out of here like a bat out of hell. It’s halfway to flatspace by now.”
Straker turned to the nearest comtech. “Comlink to Zaxby, now.”
“Comlink open, Admiral.”
“Zaxby?”
“Here, sir.”
“Send the signal.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Straker out.” He turned to Tixban. “Give me a realtime optical on that fleeing scout ship.”
Tixban changed the view on the main holoscreen. It stabilized on the bright flare of a fusion drive pointed directly at them. “There will be some
minutes’ lag. Their acceleration is quite high.”
“Just keep the screen locked on it and recording.” Straker turned back to DeChang and made sure to stand so the man’s back was to the screen. “I have Ramirez. She accused you of ordering her to do it.”
DeChang shook his head with a grim smile. “No, I didn’t. She’s just trying to save her own skin by blaming me. What do I have to gain by stealing a piece of technology for myself? You’ve already given me a powerful position within your new regime. I wouldn’t sabotage such an opportunity.”
“I was wondering that myself. Maybe you gave the orders a while back and weren’t able to countermand them. Maybe you didn’t even know when Ramirez would strike. Plausible deniability.”
“Yet if I wanted to short-circuit her plan after all, I would have pointed out your lack of physical security—the very lack that allowed this tragedy, I might add, Liberator. I may bear some small responsibility, but this is your fault, not mine.”
Dammit, he’s a cool customer, thought Straker. I can’t rattle him, and what he’s saying even makes sense. So I still can’t be sure.
On the screen behind DeChang, the flare of the fleeing scout brightened suddenly by a factor of hundreds, and then vanished. It appeared to have exploded. “Tixban, back that up and run the last fifteen seconds.”
When the view reset to show the unchanged flare, Straker turned DeChang around by the shoulder and he pointed. “There’s Ramirez’s ship, right?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Watch closely.” Straker stepped back slowly and turned to look at DeChang’s face rather than the screen.
When the scout exploded, the man’s expression showed surprise, then pleased satisfaction rather than dismay. Had he anticipated the result, or was the emotion real? Straker wondered about that.
“So. You booby-trapped the Device?” said DeChang.
“I did.”
“What a shame, to destroy such promising technology. Still, Ramirez is dead. I know it won’t bring back your woman, but at least we’re rid of her.”
“No thanks to you.”
DeChang turned up his palms. “Again, I am sorry. If you want to punish me, you’re in charge. I throw yourself on your mercy.”
Straker smiled coldly. “Mercy. That’s what Ramirez said before she died. That you were merciful, and that’s what kept Engels alive. Funny thing to say, don’t you think?”
“Before she died?” DeChang looked back and forth from the screen to Straker. “So she wasn’t on that ship?”
“Nope, though anyone working for her deserves what he got. And Engels?” Straker grinned wolfishly. “She’s fine. In fact, she put four bullets in Ramirez after taking her own gun off her. Put her down like the dog she was.”
“Bravo. I’m happy for both of you,” DeChang said with an air of weariness. “So why this charade?”
“Because I’m still not sure you didn’t have a part in it. If you didn’t, no harm done. If you did, I suggest you walk the straight and narrow from now on, because if I find even one shred of evidence, nothing will stop me from strangling you with my own hands.”
“So much for due process in your brave new world.”
Straker’s smile didn’t waver. “Oh, you’d get due process. As the aggrieved party, I’ll carry out the sentence. Like back on that Old Earth you love to read about.”
DeChang lifted his chin, clasped his hands behind his back and said, “Admiral, I have nothing to hide. I’ve thrown my lot in with you and I’m not going to betray you or the Liberation. You threatening me won’t make me do better than my best. If there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to planning how to govern your empire once you shatter its tranquility. I assure you, there’s nobody better qualified.”
Straker let out a long breath. “Dismissed.”
DeChang stalked off. Nearby, Redwolf shifted his rifle’s aim a fraction lower and nodded to Straker. Straker nodded back, and headed for the flag mess, his battlesuited bodyguard behind him.
At a cloth-draped table he sat and ordered a snack plate and a beer, and told the steward to be ready to bring another for Loco. When his friend strode in, still in the remnants of that silly pirate uniform, Straker stood and held out a hand. He didn’t let go of the clasp for an extra moment. “Loco. Johnny. It’s good to have you back. I’m sorry I didn’t treat you right. You know, before.”
“Hey, I’m sorry for...for the stuff I said. I was just blowing off steam.”
Straker let go and gestured for the beer to be brought, and then sat, waving Loco to a chair. “Still. I was taking you for granted. You’re my best friend. You’re an officer in your own right, not just my shadow, and you deserve to command. I’m proud of you. I’m not sure I’ve said that often enough.”
Loco took a long swig from the beer a steward set in front of him, put it back on the table and stared at it, eyes lowered. “Not sure you ever said it, Derek. But thanks for saying it now.”
“Yeah, I can be a dick sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Loco chuckled. “Heh. Me too. So… I’m done with this one. Let’s get a few more.” He waved two fingers at the steward.
“You’re not done with that one.”
Loco drained his glass, and then slammed it on the table. “Yes, I am. So are you. Bottoms up.”
Straker rolled his eyes and snorted. He drank his glass dry and slid it aside for the steward to set down two more. “You know I can beat you at this game, right? I outweigh you by thirty kilos.”
“I dunno, Derek. Last time we had a drinking contest we were in Shangri-La, right?”
“So?”
“So, was that even real? I say the contest was rigged!” Loco slapped a palm on the table.
“Hey, whatever happened with Major Wagner?”
“Major pain in my ass, you mean. You sent him with me on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yep. You think I’m a dick…”
“Yeah, that guy makes you look flaccid. Small man syndrome, I think. I ditched him on a planet we liberated called Qibbalah. Perfect place for him.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, if you could see the women…” Loco chortled.
“Meaning?”
“Yoogly, and weird as shit. I think they were genetically adapted for the swamps they live in. They actually have stuff that grows on their bodies, like lichen or something symbiotic. They smell like rotting moss. Men too.”
“You said you ditched him there?”
“Yeah, got them all drunk and passed out at the main spaceport bar.” Loco put his feet up on the table. “No worries, boss. Once they pay off their bar tab, they can catch a ride out of there somehow. Lots of tramp freighters.”
Straker laughed louder, and then he thought of something. “Speaking of women…” He stuck his comlink in his ear. “Put me through to Campos.”
“Campos here, sir. The commodore’s doing fine, sleeping comfortably in a bed. Doctor Gannon checked her just now, but he had to make his rounds at the other infirmaries. You can comlink him if you want it from him.”
“No need, thanks. How long until she’s released?”
“Once she’s rested a good eight hours, we’ll put her in the regen tank for a while. Let’s call it a full day. That’s the doctor’s recommendation, anyway, sir.”
“Great. I’ll drop by tomorrow. Straker out.” He tossed the earpiece onto the table and sipped at his beer.
Loco cocked his head. “Campos watching her?”
“Yeah.”
“Good woman.”
“Very good woman.”
“Good medic, I meant.”
“Sure, that’s what you meant.”
Loco tossed crunchy chips into his mouth and chewed, avoiding Straker’s eyes. “Guess I ought to check in on Carla sometime too, huh?”
“Guess you should.”
More crunching. “Hey, I heard something weird. From Kraxor.”
“Yeah?”
“He said Tachina was…
”
Straker let Loco flounder, sipping on his beer.
“I mean, I knew she was a clone, but not that she was… is…”
Straker waited. He wasn’t going to let Loco off the hook for this one. Straker had pushed away the nectar. He’d beaten the desire. Loco had to work through his own vices if he was truly to grow up.
“Kraxor said she was, like, a drug. A living drug. Is that true?”
“It’s true,” Loco said.
“That explains a lot.”
“A lot, yeah…”
Loco sighed. “But not everything.”
“Not everything.”
“You ain’t making this easy, you know that, boss?”
Straker lifted his glass. “Easy? Let me tell you about a little trip I had, and another drug. It’s called nectar.”
Chapter 39
Three days later. Ruxin system, edge of flatspace. Battleship Indomitable, bridge, Section 1.
“I can’t really feel the difference between when we’re separated, and when we’re all together,” said Straker as he examined the hologram showing Indomitable’s sixteen separate sections floating in flatspace.
“I can,” said Engels. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. Like the difference between being on a ship or a habitat. Size matters.” She drummed her fingers on the chair arm. “We’re ready, Admiral.”
Straker checked for himself. All ships in the tabular list showed green for transit. “Go.”
“Go-code sent,” the senior comtech said.
Ships disappeared in order as they transited into sidespace. They aimed for the heart of the Mutuality, the capital system called Unison, the seat of government where the Central Committee met and issued unassailable edicts that controlled—and often destroyed—the lives of its citizens.
The last three days had been a whirlwind of preparation. Straker was used to high-tempo military operations, but this had called for a miracle of organization. DeChang and Benota had proven themselves, acting as his chief of staff and logistics respectively. With Engels as chief of operations and Loco as his ground force commander, Straker felt like he had a very real chance of pulling off the biggest gamble yet.
