Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga)

by Peter Grant

  "OK. What about the two men waiting in the van?"

  "They'll be dealt with by other members of our team."

  "Fair enough. When do we start?"

  "We move to about a kilometer from the hotel, then wait for a signal."

  ###

  The earpiece crackled slightly. "Two targets disabled in the bedroom. Lobby team, go!"

  "That's us," Lin said softly as the driver set his cab in motion.

  "I heard."

  The taxi turned onto the street leading to the hotel. As it approached the front doors, slowing, it passed a figure standing in a public transport shelter set back from the curb. Steve guessed it was the outside man, who'd be watching for his arrival. He instinctively began to turn his head, to look at him as they passed, but Lin's elbow jabbed him hard in the ribs - fortunately on his uninjured side.

  "Don't look at him!" she hissed. "He'll suspect something!"

  "Sorry. It was a reflex reaction."

  Her tone was reproving. "If you plan to live and move in our world for very much longer, you'll have to learn to control such reflexes. They can get you killed."

  "I'll ask you to add that sort of thing to my training when I get back."

  "We can do that." She sounded somewhat mollified. "We'll work on counter-surveillance in general."

  The cab stopped outside the double doors. Steve got out, then held the door open for Lin as she followed him. He took her arm loosely and led her toward the doors.

  "Don't react to the sound of the flitterbugs," she whispered softly, looking up at him adoringly as if he were the center of her existence. "Hold the door open and move slowly, to give them time to get inside."

  "Got it."

  He pulled the door open, then stepped back, holding it for her as she released his arm, seemingly reluctantly, to move through the gap. As she did so, Steve heard what sounded remarkably like a mosquito whining close overhead. He resisted the temptation to look up as first one, then another, then a third whizzed past, followed by a louder noise suggesting several flitterbugs moving together. He followed Lin through the door. She took his arm again as soon as he was inside, and they stood for a moment smiling at each other before he let the door swing shut under pressure from its spring-loaded closer. They turned toward the bank of elevators.

  They were halfway there, moving slowly, when Steve heard a muffled exclamation from the clerk on duty behind the counter. From the corner of his eye he saw her slap at the back of her neck, as if she'd just been stung. She held her hand there for a moment, shaking her head, then slumped forward, her head hitting a mug on the desk before her. It fell over, spilling liquid on the desk before rolling off the edge, clattering to the floor.

  The noise alerted two men sitting in armchairs to one side, ostensibly watching a holovid display against one wall. They both looked around, startled, and began to rise to their feet, their right hands sliding into the left side of their jackets. One suddenly yelled something, a brief incomprehensible noise, and slapped first at his left eye, then his left cheek, with his left hand; but his right hand continued to reach inside his jacket. Steve knew his actions must be in reaction to a flitterbug's tiny darts penetrating his flesh.

  Lin yelled, "Down!" as she pushed herself away from Steve, her right hand flashing to the small of her back. It came clear holding a medium-sized black pistol that she expertly swung into line, her left hand rising to steady her right in a braced shooting stance as she aimed the gun towards the two men. As she did so, they also produced pistols from beneath their jackets.

  Steve lunged sideways. One of the men, the one who'd slapped at his left eye, swung his pistol after him as he darted past a table behind a sofa. Steve grabbed a vase of artificial flowers from the table without stopping and threw it hard and fast towards the gunman. As he did so, he heard the loud crack! of a shot from behind him as Lin beat the other man into action. Her target's head snapped back as a hole appeared between his eyes; then he slumped forward limply to the floor, gun falling from his hand. The wall behind where his head had been was suddenly splotched and stained with blood, splinters of bone and splatters of something gray.

  Steve's target ducked wildly as the vase whizzed past his head, spoiling his aim. He staggered, trying to recover his balance and aim his pistol once more, but couldn't raise his arm more than half-way. He stumbled a couple of steps sideways, then fell face-first to the floor, his gun falling unheeded from his hand. He tried falteringly to raise himself, but slumped down once more. This time he didn't move.

  Steve glanced at Lin. Her pistol was aimed unwaveringly at his target, ready to deal with any sign of danger. Slowly, as it became clear he was no longer moving, she allowed herself to come upright once more. Keeping her gun aimed, she moved forward to toe the two pistols well away from the motionless bodies, then relaxed as she holstered her own weapon.

  "That was good shooting," Steve observed, a little shakily. "You've got great reaction speed, too."

  "Thank you. You also reacted very fast, throwing that vase before he could get off a shot. I don't think I've ever seen anyone move that quickly outside a dojo."

  "Well, having been shot in the ribs a few weeks ago, avoiding another hypersonic bead in the butt is a hell of an incentive to speed!" Steve said with great feeling.

  She couldn't restrain a sudden giggle... then they were both laughing aloud, bent forward, clutching their sides, releasing the tension of the last few moments.

  Steve's earpiece crackled. "The watcher and the van's occupants have been dealt with. We'll move in now to clean up."

  Lin straightened. "Let's start searching these two while we wait for the clean-up crew. Take everything from their pockets, all their jewelry, everything that's on their fingers or around their wrists or necks." She picked up both pistols and put them on a low table, then set about removing the shoulder holsters and spare magazine carriers from the motionless bodies. "These are very good pistols," she observed approvingly. "They're the same model I carry - a Chronos 89C. It's very expensive, but top quality."

  Steve began going through pockets, putting everything on the table as well. He whistled with surprise as he discovered a fat wallet in each man's possession, stuffed with high-denomination notes and prepaid credit chips, plus a small bag of gold taels.

  "Looks like they were paid in advance for this job," he observed.

  "Probably half down and the rest on completion. That's standard for hired guns like these. They weren't very good. Anyone I'd trained would have shot me before I was able to react to their movements."

  "Then I'm glad you didn't train them."

  "Now that you come to mention it, so am I!" They laughed as their eyes met.

  "Why are they carrying gold, as well as currency and credit chips? Surely it's not always possible to convert it to cash in a hurry?"

  "That's not the point. Banknotes and coins have serial numbers, both readable and woven into them on nanostrands, so they can be tracked. Credit chips can be traced to their issuer - even prepaid ones - and every transaction is recorded. If you deposit money to them, even cash over the counter, you're identifiable from security vid. On the other hand, gold's anonymous. If you need to buy your way out of trouble without your payment being traceable, it's the only way to go. I carry ten taels at all times for that purpose. If you're in a place where taels aren't widely circulated or accepted, you can use gold coins or precious stones instead."

  A group of men, most clad in dark coveralls, trooped through the glass doors. They put down two stretchers by the fallen men, then one went towards the counter to check on the clerk while the others headed for the elevator, carrying more stretchers. One of them asked Steve, "The key to your room, please?"

  "Sure." He fished the keychip out of his pocket and handed it over.

  "Thank you. We'll leave everything in as good order as possible, but the flitterbugs showed that the men had ransacked your belongings. You'll have to put them away again."

  "I'll take care
of that."

  In ten minutes they were back, carrying two stretchers laden with the motionless bodies of the purported policemen who'd grilled Steve that morning. Only their chests, rising and falling, showed they were still alive. The men carrying them moved to one side of the lobby and waited as their leader, dressed in dark trousers, shirt and jacket, approached Steve.

  "Good evening, Mr. Maxwell. I'm Pak, the leader of this team. The Red Pole has instructed us to turn over to you all cash and valuables taken from these men, so you can use them to take care of expenses on your forthcoming journey." He proffered a cloth drawstring bag. "They each had six or seven thousand credits in cash, plus several prepaid credit chips and some gold taels." He beckoned another member of his team, who came forward carrying two pistols in shoulder holsters. "They also had these weapons, which the Red Pole says should be left with you in case of future need, as well as those of these men." He nodded at the two men on the floor.

  Steve accepted the bag. "Thanks. Looks like I'm accumulating quite an arsenal!"

  The man grinned as he glanced at the table. "These are Chronos 89's, the full-size version of the compact models on the table there. You've got two of each now. Whoever equipped them had good judgment in weapons - not that it'll help them now."

  Lin took the two pistols from the man carrying them. "It's good to have multiple weapons of the same model," she said seriously as she checked that they'd been unloaded, then set them with the others on the table. "You can carry one, and have a second in reserve. Remember, if you have to use one to defend yourself, even legally, the police will confiscate the weapon for several months as evidence. You need to have another immediately available to take its place."

  "Lin's right," Pak agreed. He glanced over to where two of his team were spraying a chemical foam on the walls and floors, then wiping it off. "That'll remove all traces of blood, DNA and other evidence. We'll patch the hole in the wall made by Lin's shot after sanitizing it. The filler will dry to match the color around it, so it won't be detectable except on close examination."

  "You seem to have thought of everything. What about the clerk?"

  "She'll be given the antidote to the flitterbug dart as we leave, and recover within five minutes. She'll have a slight headache, but be unaware of what caused her to black out. She'll remember nothing."

  Pak turned towards another man as he approached, carrying a dozen small objects in his right hand. He held it out, palm uppermost. "I've recovered all the flitterbugs," he reported, "including those from the bedroom upstairs."

  "Good."

  Steve examined the flitterbugs curiously. He'd heard of them before, but never seen one. They resembled small metallic winged creatures, the size of a bumblebee. Vid lenses on their 'heads' were set above twin tubes firing miniaturized narcotic-bearing darts.

  "What about the dart in the clerk's neck?" he asked. "Won't that have to be removed?"

  "No. It dissolves in the body, leaving no trace."

  "And the guy who got one in the eye?"

  The man shrugged. "That's a bad place to take one. He may lose the use of that eye. Of course, that's unlikely to worry him for very much longer." He and his boss sniggered.

  "Considering they planned something nasty for me, I can't really feel any qualms about what they're facing right now," Steve agreed.

  Lin took the cloth bag from Steve, dropped into it the wallets and gold taels carried by the two men in the foyer, then returned it. "There's over twenty thousand in cash in there now, plus a bit more than that in gold, and probably a similar amount in prepaid credit chips. You must be worth a lot to someone if he splashed out that much on a team to capture you."

  "I'm glad he lost his investment! What next?"

  Pak glanced through the windows at a large van pulling up outside, followed by a second. "We'll take these men with us. That's the van we took from them, plus our own. We've already loaded their watchman and the two in their van. We'll head back to base with both vehicles, and administer the antidote to the flitterbug neurotoxin once we've got everyone securely locked up."

  He nodded to Lin. "The Red Pole says that Lin should stay with you tonight, to provide any security that may be necessary. We'll leave another couple of people outside, with another vehicle, to keep an eye on things; but after taking out this team, I don't believe you'll have any more problems in the short term."

  "That makes sense. Please thank the Red Pole very much for me."

  "I'll do that."

  Steve and Lin watched as the team carried the bodies out on their stretchers, loaded them into the vans, climbed in themselves, and drove off slowly and carefully. A member of the team spray-injected an antidote into the clerk's neck before hurrying out, last to leave the building.

  Lin tugged at Steve's arm. "Come on. We should be out of sight before the clerk wakes up." She helped him gather up the pistols and the bag, and they walked over to the elevator.

  "Do you have a chair in your room for me?" she asked as the car ascended.

  "Yes, but there's also a second bed you're welcome to use. The bathroom's got a hot tub, shower and all the trimmings, complete with towels and toiletries for two. There are vending machines for drinks and snacks down the corridor."

  "Oh, good! This'll be much more comfortable than a normal surveillance or protection job! I'll secure your door against unwanted visitors, then we can relax."

  Chapter 25: June 29th, 2838 GSC, late evening

  Steve bought drinks and snacks for both of them from the vending machines, then they went to his room. Lin took three wedges from her capacious bag and hammered them into the top, side and bottom openings on the inside of his door, explaining that any of them would sound an alarm if disturbed, and make opening the door a much slower process. She took a chair and jammed its back beneath the door handle to make it even more difficult for anyone to enter, then headed for the bathroom. "That hot tub is calling my name!" she informed him cheerfully.

  While Lin soaked luxuriously, audible moans and purrs of satisfaction coming through the bathroom door as jets of water massaged her, Steve recovered his clothes from where they'd been tossed by the two men who'd searched his room. He folded them, put them back where they belonged, then went out onto the balcony. Peering down, he could see a small runabout parked on the street, which he assumed contained the watchers from the Dragon Tong's security team. He sighed. He might have made a pact with the devil, so to speak, to protect himself over the jade knife, but he had to admit it had been indispensable tonight. He reached into his pocket and took out the white jade disk, looking at it quizzically, turning it over in his hand. It was strange to think that something so small could be so important.

  A thought came to him, and he nodded in swift decision. It would take him a decade or more to earn Commonwealth citizenship, qualify for a commission, and get promoted out of the most junior officer ranks to where he could actually do something useful. He'd probably need a similar period to resolve the situation concerning the jade knife. However, if he got all that right, he'd be well positioned to do some serious damage to pirates from time to time. He would use the jade disk, and his budding relationship with the Dragon Tong, to gather information about piracy to aid his revenge. They'd killed his surrogate father, so in his honor he'd take as many pirates as possible out of circulation.

  He cast his mind back to his final year at the orphanage. How strange to think he'd left school only two years before! It seemed a lifetime ago... They'd studied Kipling's poetry that year. What was that poem again - the monument to their dead Lieutenant, built in blood by the riflemen of the First Shikaris? His brow furrowed as he wracked his brains. It was 'The Grave Of The Hundred Head'... a samadh! That was it! He'd build a virtual samadh of dead pirates to Vince's memory. No memorial of stone or steel could possibly be as fitting. His face set in grim determination at the thought.

  Steve looked out over the bright lights of Virginia City. It would be his residence for the next few months, and Vesta w
ould be his base for the next year and a half, until he completed Small Craft School... but neither the city nor the planet was his home. He'd left Earth behind, so that wasn't home any more, either.

  He lifted his eyes skyward, to where a few pinpoints of unimaginably distant brightness glittered in the light-polluted sky above the city. That was where he felt at home now... out there among the stars. That's where he belonged.

  "I'll be back out there just as soon as I can, Vince," he whispered softly to himself, picturing the Bosun in his mind's eye in the last moments of his life, breathing quickly, shallowly, dying in the chair from which he'd orchestrated the successful recapture of their ship. "I'm glad they dropped your body into Vesta's star - gave you a spacer's funeral, rather than buried you to rot on a planet somewhere. You belong out there, forever part of a star. I'll do my best to honor your memory, and live up to everything you taught me and expected of me. If it's given to us to meet again one day, I hope you'll be proud of me."

  He returned the white disk to his pocket, grinning wryly at his whimsy in talking to himself. It would certainly have amused Vince if he'd heard!

  First things first. I've got a lot to learn before I return to the stars... and the rest of my life to apply it, and to make Vince proud.

  He turned and walked back into his room, closing the sliding door behind him and drawing the curtains.

  Appendix

  The Grave of the Hundred Head

  by Rudyard Kipling

  There's a widow in sleepy Chester

  Who weeps for her only son;

  There's a grave on the Pabeng River,

  A grave that the Burmans shun,

  And there's Subadar Prag Tewarri

  Who tells how the work was done.

  A Snider squibbed in the jungle,

  Somebody laughed and fled,

  And the men of the First Shikaris

  Picked up their Subaltern dead,

  With a big blue mark in his forehead