The Schiavona on this run was extremely crowded. In addition to the extra people, they had to stow their gear on board. This included a small arsenal of weapons, Royal Naval uniforms (in case they were caught, they planned to bluff their way out), food, tools, and Quong’s box of medical supplies. Xris had been forced into a slight altercation with the Little One. The cyborg caught the empath attempting to lug an overlarge suitcase on board.
“What’s this?” Xris had demanded.
The Little One had opened the suitcase, proudly revealed its contents: seven silk scarves, a half-dozen frothy lace-covered blouses, ten pairs of high-heeled pumps in various shades, multicolored spandex unitards, and a flashy gold ensemble adorned with sequins and bangles.
“No,” Xris had said. “Absolutely not. Raoul will have to get along without his wardrobe.”
The Little One had gesticulated wildly, flinging his small hands in the air and jumping up and down.
Xris had remained adamant. The suitcase was left behind.
“You hear me, Tycho?” Xris said now over the comm to the gunner’s turret.
“Loud and clear, boss.”
Rowan, the Little One, Jamil, and Quong sat in small fold-down chairs bolted to the bulkheads. They gave Xris their full attention.
“Okay, this is the plan. When we dock, they’ll open the airlock—”
“What if they don’t?” Harry demanded from the cockpit. He liked to have every eventuality covered.
“They will, or you’ll shoot something else off. I’m leaving you inside the plane.”
Harry nodded complacently.
“We’ll take control of the bridge. Jamil and Tycho will remain on the bridge. The Little One and I will go look for Raoul. Doc, you’ll come with us, in case he needs medical attention.” Xris looked at the Little One. “Raoul’s alive, right?”
The Little One nodded vigorously.
“And you can find him on board that ship? Even if they’ve hidden him away somewhere?”
The Little One nodded again, clenched two fists and brought them together.
“All right, then—”
“What about me?” Rowan asked.
“You stay on board with Harry. I want you to monitor— What the devil is wrong with him now?”
The Little One had begun by wringing his hands and shaking his head. He ended by flinging himself onto Rowan, clutching at her and tugging at her uniform.
“I believe he wants me to go with him,” Rowan said.
“Out of the question.”
“I don’t mind, Xris.”
“Damn it, I do! Technically speaking, you’re my prisoner—”
“Technically speaking,” Rowan interrupted, smiling, “I’m your friend.”
Xris ignored that. “—and I don’t want you—”
The Little One became frenzied. He pulled on Rowan’s uniform with such violence that he ripped an epaulet from her shoulder.
“He should not be exciting himself like this.” Quong was on his feet, attempting to soothe his patient.
“He wants me to go!” Rowan pleaded.
“Then he can get over it.” Xris was adamant.
The computer came on. “Docking in ten, nine, eight—”
“You better sit down and strap in!” Harry warned. “This is a forced docking maneuver. They’re not helping us one damn bit.”
The Little One refused to be pried loose from Rowan. Clinging to her, he peered at Xris from under the brim of the fedora.
“I promise I won’t try to escape,” Rowan said.
“At this point, it might be better if she did,” Jamil muttered under his breath to Quong.
But Xris heard. “All right, then! Go on board,” he snarled. “The whole fuckin’ universe can go on board, for all I care.”
He slid down the ladder, back into the cockpit, sat in his chair and strapped himself in. Grimly silent, he stared out the viewscreen.
The computer’s mindless voice broke the uncomfortable stillness.
“Five, four, three—”
“Oh, shut up,” Harry muttered, and killed the audio.
The landing was a rough one.
The hatch whirred. Xris pushed it open, pulled himself cautiously up and out. He took a good look around, but—as Harry had reported from sensor readings—the airlock was pressurized and empty. Xris, perched on top of the spaceplane, looked down, motioned the others to join him.
Jamil came next. He slid down the Schiavona’s outside ladder to the deck of the Canis Major Research I, aimed his beam rifle on the door to the airlock. Tycho followed, carrying his special sniper rifle. The alien joined Jamil.
There was a brief delay. Xris peered impatiently down into the hatch. The Little One was slowly climbing upward, tripping over his raincoat.
“Hurry!” Xris ordered. He was a target-shoot up here.
The Little One received a boost from behind from Quong, almost flew out of the hatch. Xris caught hold of the empath, steadied him, started him creeping across the hull over to the ladder. The doctor eased himself out next. Once on top of the Schiavona, he reached down to receive a beam rifle and his medical gear handed up to him by Rowan. She came last, moving easily and expertly. She carried a lasgun in a shoulder holster.
Xris eyed the weapon.
She caught his glance, flushed. “I can leave it—”
He shook his head, motioned her to hurry.
“We’re out, Harry,” he said into the comm. “Leave the hatch open and keep the engines running.”
“Right, boss.”
Xris climbed down, joined the others. He nodded to Jamil, who hit the controls. He and Tycho burst through the door, weapons raised, expecting resistance.
All they encountered were two extremely angry and indignant academic types in white lab coats, who fired nothing more lethal than a barrage of protests.
“What is the meaning of this? We are a research vessel! We have nothing on board—”
“Hands in the air,” Jamil ordered.
“This is a piratical act. We have your spaceplane’s number and—”
“He said, hands in the air.” Tycho emphasized the statement with a menacing motion of his sniper rifle.
Xris took up a position where he could keep an eye on the corridor.
“I protest—”
The two, still talking, reluctantly raised their hands over their heads.
Jamil grabbed one, Tycho the other. They shoved both professors facefirst into the bulkheads. Quong patted them down expertly for weapons, reported them both clean.
One of the professors, a woman, turned her head. “I am Dr. Brisbane, leader of the research team. We have nothing on board that would be in the least valuable to you scum. We have activated a distress signal. Help will be arriving any moment now. I suggest—”
She broke off, stared in amazement at the sight of the Little One, who came barreling through the door, tugging Rowan along behind. The empath would have dragged Rowan off down the corridor if Xris hadn’t stopped them.
“Take it easy,” he said quietly, resting his good hand on the Little One’s shoulder.
The Little One apparently understood—either Xris’s words or his thoughts—for the empath calmed down, though he kept casting longing glances at the corridor. Xris studied the professors in their immaculate coats. The female doctor was tall, stern-faced, gray-haired. The other—a male—was tubby and pink-faced. Neither looked the least bit sinister, only upset and frightened and—in the woman’s case—mad enough to chew off the cyborg’s steel hand. She started in again, yammering about pirates.
Xris decided to continue the hard-line approach, see where it got him.
“Shut up!” His metal-edged voice cut off all further protests.
He fixed his attention on the female doctor. “Listen to me, sister, and no one will get hurt. We’re not pirates. We have reason to believe that you are holding a friend of ours hostage on board this vessel. His name is Raoul. He’s an Adonian. Release him, tu
rn him over to us, and we’ll fly away and leave you to your books.”
He expected evasions, denials, more protests. What he got instead were baffled looks, disbelief, and incomprehension. He might have been speaking Tycho’s language, without benefit of the translator.
“You’re accusing us—us—of ... of kidnapping?” Dr. Brisbane was so angry she was spluttering.
Her tubby cohort actually giggled, then blushed red at the doctor’s baleful gaze.
“Gentlemen—” the tubby one began meekly.
“Don’t dignify them with that term,” Brisbane snapped.
The tubby one blushed again. “We’re a research vessel, studying the effects of vented gas plasma discharge from junk-drive engines on various species, flora and fauna. We’ve never kidnapped anyone. I believe you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Xris was beginning to think so. If that was true, he was certainly on a roll. It was Rowan who’d dreamed all this up. Dog stars! If she ... If this was a trick . ..
Xris clamped his teeth down on a twist.
Nothing to do now but play it out.
“Then I guess you won’t mind us searching your ship,” he said, watching them closely to see their reaction.
And there was the break, the crack. Not much. If he hadn’t been so damned keyed up and on edge, he might have missed it—Tubby’s eyes slid sideways.
Brisbane was good. She had scared but indignant down to an art form. Absolutely no reason for them to search her vessel, upset her staff. Risk contaminating the experiments, loss of months of valuable research . . .
Tubby, receiving his cue, now joined in. But that’s just what his sideways glance had been. He was asking for his cue.
Xris gave the team the go-ahead.
Jamil grabbed Tubby by the collar, shoved a lasgun in his back. Tycho took charge of Brisbane.
“Take us to the bridge,” Jamil ordered. “We promise not to step on the flowers. And keep your hands where I can see them and your eyes straight ahead or you’ll be fertilizing your ‘flora and fauna.’ March.”
The procession moved down the corridor: Jamil and Tycho and the prisoners in front; Quong, Rowan, and the Little One right behind; Xris bringing up the rear, watching their backs. They met no one on the way. Apparently everyone else on board the vessel had been warned to keep out of sight.
They continued down the corridor leading from the airlock, until they came to an intersection. Their corridor went on ahead, another branched off to the right. Dr. Brisbane—her jaw clamped—indicated the right turn. At this, they nearly lost the Little One. He came to a dead stop, pointed frantically straight ahead.
Brisbane eyed the Little One narrowly. When she caught Xris watching her, she shifted her gaze.
“The bridge is that direction,” she said coldly.
Xris nodded, gave Jamil the sign to go ahead. Rowan said something to the Little One, who trailed along reluctantly, holding on to Rowan’s hand.
Apparently their progress through the ship was being monitored, because the door to the bridge was standing open. Captain and crew were waiting for them. No security guards; no one was even armed. So far, the Canis Major Research I was what it claimed to be—a lumbering, inoffensive research vessel, cruising studiously through space.
Xris began again to have doubts. Jamil’s rigid back and set jaw and the fact that Tycho’s skin had not changed color to match his surroundings indicated that they were also dubious about their mission. Rowan wore her enigmatic expression, which Xris remembered from the old days. That expression meant either she thought he was way off target, but wouldn’t jeopardize the operation by saying anything, or she was on to something. Quong was impassive; but then, he was always impassive. If it hadn’t been for the Little One’s excitement, Xris might have muttered an apology and slunk off.
“Captain”—Xris stepped forward—”we’re going to take control of the bridge. Instruct your people to stand aside and let my men do their jobs and no one will get hurt. We’ll do what we came to do, then leave and let you carry on.”
The captain looked at Brisbane, who said bitterly, “We have no choice. We must do as they say. They have some insane notion that we have kidnapped one of their friends. They intend to search the ship.”
The team went to work, swift, efficient. If they had any doubts about Xris or their reason for being here, they did not let these doubts interfere with their jobs. At a command from the captain, the crew—three people—rose to their feet, moved away from their consoles. Tycho herded the crew, Dr. Brisbane, and her tubby companion over into a recessed bay area. Quong kept them covered. Xris stood by the door, keeping watch down the corridor. Jamil made the captain return to the pilot’s chair, a gun to his head.
A red light was flashing on the console—the distress signal. Jamil motioned to it. “Shut it off,” he ordered.
The captain shook his head. “I can’t.”
Jamil examined the control. “My guess is that he’s telling the truth. Once it’s activated .. .” he shrugged, “company.”
Rowan could probably kill it, but it was unlikely the Little One would turn her loose.
“No help for it,” Xris said. “Jamil, you keep everyone here. Tycho, take over for Quong. Doc, you’re with me.”
“You are wasting your time,” Brisbane said, her voice loud and strident. “Hie only people aboard this ship are the crew and my fellow scientists.”
But as she said this, her eyes shifted involuntarily to the Little One. The empath stood near the door, hopping impatiently from one foot to the other.
“If that’s true, Doctor, you have nothing to worry about. If it isn’t ...” Xris motioned his group out, headed out himself.
“Okay,” he said to the Little One. “Lead on.”
Keeping hold of Rowan, the Little One took off down the corridor, kicking impatiently at the hem of the raincoat. Xris and Quong trudged after their small friend.
“They’re all hiding something,” Rowan said, over her shoulder.
“Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”
“We were expecting to see a research ship—intellectual types in white coats, nonprofessional crew, that sort of thing.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s what we’re seeing.”
“I’m seeing exactly the same things I’d see if I were on a research vessel, which means that I’m not ...”
“You know what I’m getting at,” Rowan retorted.
Xris did. It was the main reason he was marching down this corridor behind an empath in a raincoat who had gotten them all here by hugging a dog.
They headed down the same corridor they’d used to reach the bridge from the airlock. But when they arrived at the intersection, the Little One turned right instead of left. He continued down another hallway, made a left-hand jog at another junction, then another left. He paused only at the intersections, and then he didn’t appear confused as much as he appeared to be attempting to determine the fastest way to reach his goal.
No one and nothing interfered until they reached a section of the vessel separated from the main part by a huge, heavy blast door labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Odd. Xris was familiar with the Verdi-class vessel and this door was not standard equipment. He got on the coram to Jamil.
“Rescue-two, this is Rescue-one. Can you see us?”
“Rescue-one, I’ve got you on the security cam.”
“What’s on the other side of this blast door?”
“An empty corridor. Doors leading off of it. Nothing special that I can tell; but then, the cams don’t pick up the inside of the rooms, only the hallways.”
“Any change in radiation levels, Rescue-two? Air quality? Pressure?”
A pause. Jamil was checking out instrument readings. “No, Rescue-one. None. Everything reads normal.”
“Okay,” Xris said. The Little One was glowering at him impatiently from beneath the fedora. “Open it up, Rescue-two.”
The door clanked, be
gan to revolve ponderously to one side.
The Little One let go of Rowan’s hand, jumped through as soon as the crack was large enough to contain his small body. He was halfway down the corridor before Xris, Rowan, and Quong managed to catch up.
Xris stared curiously at the other doors as they passed, wondering why this particular area had been made off limits and who it was off limits to. “Authorized personnel” might mean the crew only, excluding the profs, or it might mean the profs, excluding the crew. The first would tend to indicate that this area had been sealed off because it had something important to do with the running of the ship—which seemed unlikely, since there were only doors and a corridor, no high-voltage electrical equipment or thrumming machinery. The other might mean that the crew was being kept in the dark about the experiments being carried on inside.
Some of the doors were marked, but the marks were in a strange language, not the usual Standard Military. Rowan slowed her pace to stare at them. Xris nearly bumped into her.
“Aren’t those weird?” she said.
Xris agreed, caught hold of Rowan’s elbow, steered her on. It had not been unknown, when they were agents together, for Rowan to stop in the middle of a guns-drawn, badges-flashing raid to read a flier tacked on a wall.
The Little One made a sudden turn to the right. He was running now, dashing along at such a rapid, eager pace that he tripped himself up completely and sprawled flat on the floor. He was up again before anyone could reach him, racing madly down the corridor. He skidded to a halt in front of a door, pointing and jumping up and down.
“This is it? Raoul’s in there?” Xris asked.
The Little One nodded so violently that the hat slid over his eyes.
Xris was back on the comm. “Rescue-two? Can you see us now?”
“I have you, Rescue-one. You’re on Deck eight, level B-two. And you’re in the clear. That corridor’s empty in all directions.”
The Knights of the Black Earth Page 29
