“No,” Kolpe snapped. “The orders are to take the target alive. That is the highest priority, do you understand?”
Heyt’s eyes narrowed. “I understand the target is on one of those ships. I understand nobody’s left any of these ships to go dirtside. So you tell me how we get this target without taking direct, ship–to–ship action.”
“We wait for the target to land.” Kolpe turned back to his communication intercept equipment.
“Why can’t we wait on the ground and get in position?”
He clenched his teeth, breathing deeply. “Because you would freeze in that position, if you didn’t die of oxygen deprivation first. Wait at least until the target is on the ground. Once she is, we can keep her there.”
Heyt gave a tight smile and left.
This was not going as he had planned. It was becoming clear Cameron was not staying on Bone as he had thought, so of course there was no need for her to go to the surface for anything. This was only a waystop. If so, it argued that the next location they were bound for was even more remote and sparsely populated than Bone—and thus he had to get her here.
He wasn’t even sure which ship she was on, or that she was even…no, she had to be here. There was simply no other possibility.
The communication chatter was all about stowing equipment and cargo, mind–numbingly boring. Even though he had transcription and signal analysis going on all the live channels, he still sat and listened. Attention to detail was the key to success—and if he did not listen to the other ships, Plymson would talk to him.
His mind drifted, thinking of how he might tease out the secret of why Toren was so determined to capture Moire Cameron alive. It would be a long trip back to headquarters, and Heyt and his enforcers would be easy to distract. Cameron might know what he was after, though; she might even try to get information from him. He smiled. It would be very interesting.
An alert signal interrupted his musings. Signal from the main ground camp, Waylands. He switched to that channel.
…yeah, got back couple weeks ago.
You still want the job? Get that shuttle in gear, girl! We’re leaving soon.
I ain’t leavin’ Beast behind now I just got it all fixed. Come and help? Just like old times.
The voice. He recognized that voice. He followed the conversation intently. Someone at Waylands wanted Cameron to come down there for some reason they both knew but weren’t specifying. His muscles tensed in a futile effort to force her to overcome her reluctance.
OK, I’ll be down in a bit. Better find Alan, he’ll be real upset if I don’t take him.
Kolpe snapped to his feet as soon as the signal cut off.
“Heyt! She’s going down to the planet!”
The landing craft was even more crowded. To his disgust, he could not avoid occasionally touching Plymson.
“Deorbit as if you’re going to the equatorial region,” he said curtly to the pilot, who looked at Heyt for confirmation. He hated working with these people, who would listen to anyone but him. “There are action committees who try to land there unnoticed. It will not attract the target’s attention. Follow the terrain as low as you can from there. Got it?” He couldn’t help the trace of contempt.
Heyt nodded at the pilot, giving Kolpe a measuring stare. He ignored it. He was so close…nothing was going to be left to chance now. Even the enforcers. Toren hadn’t needed to be told to send a ship without markings, and the crew was wearing plain black gear.
“If we keep anybody from sending a signal, they’ll keep thinking we’re an action committee,” Heyt said, narrowing his eyes. “That will make cleanup a lot easier.” He moved back from the pilot’s section to where the enforcers and Plymson were seated and began giving them a briefing.
Kolpe followed. He didn’t like Heyt’s train of thought; he could see that violence was going to play a part in any plan Heyt was involved in. The best he could do was channel the violence so that it didn't interfere with his job.
When Heyt had finished, Kolpe spoke. “You have a set of vid stills. Study them carefully. You must not kill the target. You must not endanger the target. Is that clear?”
“Is there anything else you would like to tell us, Mr. Anders?” Heyt was almost vibrating with anger. “I’ve got my orders, and I intend to carry them out even if it means causing damage. We won’t tag your target, but I can’t promise that for anybody else.”
Kolpe shrugged. “I don’t care what you do with the others. But Cameron is mine.”
CHAPTER 18
A DANGEROUS NEED
Alan was still bashfully recovering from one of Lorai’s enthusiastic hugs when he finally understood why they were there. Moire thought he was about to bounce up and down like a real kid.
“You’re coming with us?” he asked, face wide with astonishment and happy surprise. “To stay?”
“Yep, long as you guys need me,” Lorai said, grinning at him.
“Are the others coming too? Jens and Mammachandra and…and everyone?”
“This is their home, Alan. I think they want to stay here,” Moire said.
Lorai cleared her throat. She picked up a tool lying on a hydraulic housing and put it back down again. “Um, actually…I sorta asked around, you know, seeing what people were thinking? They, um, they want to talk to you.” Lorai must have seen the shock and horror on her face, because she hurried on. “I didn’t say nothin’ specific–like! You didn’t tell me much yourself, but I could guess you had a big project going on. Real big. Thought you might have room for ’em.”
The laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Yes, they had room. They also had a desperate need of any willing volunteers. She still wished Lorai hadn’t said anything.
Lorai took them to Mammachandra’s. When Moire saw who was gathered at the restaurant she felt a little better. Not the hordes she had been fearing; just a handful of people, most of whom she knew. The restaurant itself was looking slightly shabby, and the store was dark and from what she could see, full of crates and boxes and not goods for sale. Munchausen the nerya, looking even more mangy and lumpy of fur, was undulating around the crates making muttering noises. It evidently did not approve of the rearrangements.
“We are anyhow determined to leave,” Mammachandra said, dismissing Moire's first attempt to explain that this might not be a good idea. “See, what we have we can take is already packed. We would leave earlier but Lorai told us you might know of a place to go.”
“Good places are wanting much,” Jens explained. “We must pay for space for a shop, for working in—and still we would need to ship these things. They are too much money for us to give up, but where will we sell them?” There was no sign of his usual cheerfulness in his face, just despair.
Moire sighed. “Did Lorai mention this is…will be a dangerous place? Remote, primitive, bad mail service….”
“Indeed, you describe to us Bone,” Gip Farouz, the ancient mineral analyst said in his gentle voice. His lined brown face was calm. “In my youth I came here for the danger, for the remoteness of this place. Now that I am old I cannot say I wish for danger, but I cannot stay here if there is no work for me to do. If I may earn my living in a dangerous place then I will go there.”
It was said gently, but with resolution. Nobody else looked like they were planning to change their minds, either. At least she could offer them someplace warmer, with more oxygen.
“Let them make their own decisions,” Ennis said quietly, as she hesitated. “They aren’t your responsibility until they do.”
She stared at him. His expression was serious. “Are you saying you’d take them, even with everything that will happen?”
“They’re desperate,” he said intently, his blue eyes never leaving her face. “You don’t know their situation like they do. If they’re willing to consider going with so little information, it must be bad. I’ve been that desperate.” His voice wavered, then steadied. “Nothing out here is com
pletely safe. They know that.”
Hard to argue with that kind of experience. Moire didn’t even try.
“Still got that comm setup in back?” she asked Jens. He nodded, and led the way. Kilberton wasn’t on deck on Dunkirk, but Yolanda Menehune was. “How’s the loading going?”
“Almost done,” Yolanda said. “Maybe two, three hours. They got it all in but they gotta dog it down right and get it settled.”
“Great. Can you send Ulrike down with the dropship? We have some more people and gear to take up.”
“What, they left some down there?” Yolanda sounded annoyed.
“No, these are new people. Locals that want to come along.”
“Really? Damn but yer quick, Captain. I’ll send her down.”
Moire closed the channel with a grin.
“I might as well take some up too, in the shuttles,” Lorai said. “I know Mammachandra and Jens have got a full load between them.”
“Yeah, start loading up. I know it’s getting late local time but we can’t stay too long.” It was never a good idea to stay in one place, even if it was Bone.
“I’ll get a pallet hauler.” Lorai left the restaurant.
“You are having enough room for all this?” Mammachandra asked, sounding doubtful.
Moire looked around. Alan had discovered Munchausen and was playing with it. “How much gear do the rest of you have?” Moire asked. As she thought, except for some diagnostic gear belonging to Farouz, the rest was just personal belongings. “Look, we’re going to be making room for the two shuttles no matter what. I think we can get you taken care of, and if—”
An alert shrilled in her ear. The signal came through immediately, meaning some kind of override, but from where? Raven and Dunkirk were too far away, and the scout didn’t have anybody on board. She absently noted the sound of an incoming craft, but it sounded fast, too fast for landing.
“…being shot at! Mayday!…taken damage…help me!”
Ennis saw her reaction and instantly demanded, “What? What’s wrong?”
“Ulrike is taking fire. Unknown ship. Jens! Send out a general warning!” She saw Jens heading for the communications room as she sprinted for the door. Ennis was right behind her. She had to get to the scout; it had measly guns but better than no guns at all.
She pulled up her oxygen booster as she ran out the main entrance of Waylands, heading for the cleared landing area where the scout was. A dark plume of smoke told her where the dropship was, still high and descending. So what ship had she heard earlier?
An explosion came from behind Waylands, then a ship streaked past her. It was dark and fast and looked loaded for bear. It was going to intercept Ulrike.
The scout. She had to get the scout up. Something slammed into her back and she landed hard on the frit–covered ground by another ship’s landing gear, the cold sand and ice grinding in her face. Ennis was shouting in her ear.
“They’re at the ship! Get back inside!”
Now she saw it. Dark figures by the scout, carrying rifles. What the hell was going on? She scrambled back to her feet, keeping in the cover of the ship. Maybe she could steal it…no, the door was locked.
A loud explosion jerked her head up. The dropship had taken a direct hit from the enemy ship and was cartwheeling down out of control, trailing smoke and flame. She felt the impact when it hit. Ulrike had never had a chance.
The lights of Waylands went out just when they got to the door. In the evening twilight the sudden contrast made it seem completely dark inside, but then the dim illumination of emergency lighting became visible.
“Who are they?” Ennis panted as they ran back down the main corridor. “They had a clear shot at both of us when we came out but they never fired.”
Moire swore. “Then it’s Toren. They want me alive, remember? With the oxygen boosters on, people all look the same.”
She burst into the restaurant and recoiled at the smell of smoke and burning plastic. That first explosion must have been here. “Alan!” she screamed. “Where are you?”
“I’m here,” he called. He didn’t sound like he’d been hurt. Moire stumbled over something in the gloom and found him. He was kneeling by Jens, who was covered in blood and moaning.
“In the doorway he was standing when the explosion came,” Mammachandra said, ripping open a med packet with shaking hands. “It was the communications tower, I am thinking.”
Of course. Cut off any communication with possible help. That wouldn’t last forever, but probably long enough for them to do what they wanted to.
“You have some weapons in those crates, right?”
Mammachandra nodded slowly, with unhappy eyes. “I do not remember where. We can look.”
No. The goons would already be in Waylands by now; they didn’t have time and it would make too much noise. At least she, Ennis, and Alan had their sidearms. “Get him hidden somewhere, and stay quiet. They’ve got people on the ground with rifles.”
What were her options? Comms were out, so she couldn’t get Kilberton—not that there was anything she could do except warn him. Maybe if they thought she was inside, they wouldn’t be guarding the scout.
“How many do you think there are?” she asked Ennis.
He thought for a moment. “That looked like an armored orbit–to–ground transport. Carries about fifteen besides the pilot. But there could be more than one.”
“Got…report,” Jens whispered painfully. “One ship from orbit. To Belt. Today.”
“They would be thinking it is one of the action committees. But they do not come here, it is the Belt they—”
”It’s not an action committee,” Moire said curtly. “Personal enemies.” Who would have all kinds of gadgets and gizmos and, more importantly, ammunition. What did she have they didn’t? She didn’t have to worry about keeping any of the enemy alive. She knew Waylands. And she was probably the only person here who hadn’t grown up in an enclosed environment.
“We’re going outside. You still keep the heavy gear by the back door?” Mammachandra nodded. “If you’re staying here, keep out of sight. Hide if you can. We’ll try to draw them off.”
“What’s the plan?” Ennis asked quietly as she led the way back through the kitchen. Alan was following her closely.
It was very nice of him to assume she had one. “Let’s say there was just one ship, since they only saw one deorbit. If there are only fifteen of them they can’t keep a watch on all the outside doors. They saw us run in, and our ship is out front. They may watch the main doors but I’m betting most of them will be inside.” She grabbed one of the heavy coats hanging by the back entrance.
Ennis nodded. “Take out the rear guard and go back in and clean up the rest. Probably the best we can do, unless we can get help.”
They cautiously exited the building. Moire winced at how noisy the frit was underfoot. If she slid her feet, it was slower but a little quieter.
“Stay close to the building!” Ennis whispered. “It’ll mask your heat signal.”
There was also less frit. The quickest way to the scout was to go around Lorai’s hangars. Moire hoped she was OK; they didn’t have time to check. Two quick explosions coming from the front made her jump, and she pulled Alan flat against the wall as the attack ship flew slowly by. Damn, but that was a nice ship. Pity the bad guys had it.
As soon as she turned the corner around the hangar, she swore. Not only was the scout destroyed, the other ship beside it was too. “Great. Now we’re really in trouble.”
“Lorai has shuttles,” Alan said, looking worried.
“That ship would shoot them down without even thinking about it. They’re too slow.” She stopped and pulled them both down with her in the hollow between the hangar and an abandoned engine casing. “We need to get that attack ship. There has to be another ship it came with; that thing isn’t web–capable.”
Ennis nodded. “Probably armed. Do you think it will attack our ships?�
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“That would get noticed dirtside. They won’t want to risk that unless they have to. If, for example, I manage to get out of here and up there.” Moire sighed. “But how the hell do I get that ship? We don’t have the weapons, and even if we did I want it intact. We have to take out the Toren ship if we’re going to get out of here alive.”
Ennis glanced at the main entrance, just visible around the corner from where they were. “I’ve got an idea. First we have to get the guards they left outside.”
It made sense for him to take over for that part. He had training and experience, she didn’t. She couldn’t shoot for beans, so of course she got detailed to be the diversion. It was just lucky for Ennis that Alan didn’t figure out what “diversion” meant until it was all over.
“Now what?” Moire asked, watching him and Alan drag the two bodies into the space between the two sets of the main entrance doors.
Ennis started to strip his gear off in the dim glow of the emergency lights. “We transform ourselves into Toren employees.”
“But there are only two uniforms…” Moire stopped when she saw his amused look. “Oh. I get to imitate myself.” She hoped the standing orders were to keep her uninjured, as well as alive. “I appreciate your attention to detail, but why are we doing this?”
“Their commander will have the commlink to the attack ship,” Ennis said, sealing the front of the dark coverall. The blood was not even noticeable. “We just have to find and kill the commander.”
Moire took off her oxygen booster hood and the heavy coat. No reason to let them suspect she’d ever been outside. Then she experimented with ways to hide her sidearm while pretending to have her hands tied behind her. Ennis and Alan left their hoods on, even though the light was probably bad enough to not be necessary.
“Grab her arm, like you have to pull her along,” Ennis told Alan. Alan looked puzzled and worried.
“It’s just another Game,” Moire explained. “You’re pretending to be one of the bad guys.”
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