Breakaway: A Cassandra Kresnov Novel

by Joel Shepherd

  "Someone deal with them," Sandy announced, "I'm busy." And linked onto the other, broader, encrypted channel ... "Hello, Captain Reichhardt." The accompanying text message on internal visual informed her of the captain's name and other details. "I'm sorry to disturb you, have you been following the present situation down here?"

  "Yes, Yes I have." With that faintly tinny, static-wrinkled interface that spoke of greater distances and many relays in between. "Your Director Ibrahim contacted me personally, and I am fully appraised of the situation regarding Governor Dali. I understand I am speaking to the famed Tanushan GI, and that you are in command of this operation at present. "

  "That is correct, sir." Scanning text furiously-the captain's age, marital status, university, degrees, military record (an accumulated twelve years' frontline service against the League as captain, another fifteen as a lower ranked officer) ... anything that might give her an idea of the man's leanings. It was of course a political decision she was asking. In this environment, everything had a political ramification. What this particular ramification would be for herself if it happened, she had no idea. "Our present situation is that Dali will escape our custody if we cannot stop him. The FIA have now acquired complete control of the Gordon Spaceport fire defence grid. If we venture within the four kilometre exclusion zone, we will be destroyed, and we have only perhaps nineteen minutes before the shuttle leaves its berth. I am asking you, sir, to commit an OMS launch against the five defensive fire-grid emplacements to allow us to prevent Dali's unlawful escape from justice. As you will know, I am an ex-Dark Star captain. I am well versed in the operation of such weapons systems, I can safely act as your fire-control officer at this end to ensure zero collateral damage. I await your prompt reply, sir." A brief pause. Too long to be transmission delay. Then a faint, crackling sound that sounded like ... a chuckle.

  "Ma'am, in Texas where I was born, we call that cahones ... no matter your gender, it's still cahones." Texas. USA-or Los Estados Unidos- people from there were called LEUs for short. Lots of Spanish slang. Far more LEUs in the League, generally speaking. LEUs weren't generally known for their love of political chicanery, either. Her confidence level abruptly leapt ... she might, MIGHT just have a chance here, because the USA had been one of the most vocal in speaking out against Federation centralism precisely because of FIA heavy-handedness ... independently minded, League-sympathetic if not exactly friendly, and still sometimes accused of isolationism, the USA remained somewhat suspicious of their bigger Chinese and Indian partners that dominated the Federation Grand Council alliance, and most recently, it seemed, with damn good cause ...

  "Now I do suspect, ma'am, that you are as well aware of the Federationwide regulations against the operation of such military-grade weapons systems in a civilian environment as I am, particularly as it's now peacetime and all. "

  "Yessir. There will be no peace if Dali is allowed to escape, his removal will hide from the various off-Earth governments of the Federation much of the truth about the degree of the Grand Council's complicity in covert, illegal FIA operations ..." And she decided to take a great, great chance, ". . . operations, sir, that I greatly suspect have caused you and your colleagues in Fleet command much anger and frustration for many years past. I'm sure many Fleet captains who served against the League were greatly outraged by many instances of the FIA's conduct in that conflict, and feel the greatness of their cause diminished by those actions. If you want to let yet another of those illegal acts fly straight off this planet and into the black hole of Grand Council justice, you can simply do nothing. Or you can assist in their lawful apprehension, for the greater good of all the Federation, and in the hopes of the smooth and democratic operation of Federation democratic political process, and launch the OMS on my fire mission. I'll make sure they only hit what they're supposed to, it will not be in any way a dangerous or reckless act. What is your response, sir? We're running out of time."

  "I make no comment to you upon my feelings toward the FIA, Ms. Kresnov. " Ibrahim had told him her name. Her hopes sank. "Except to say that I've already had the fire mission locked in from the moment I understood the situation, launch will commence in approximately twenty seconds from now, and y'all go have y'rself a good next half hour down there, y'hear? Fire-control observer protocols will follow, Mekong out. "

  She didn't even hesitate. "All units, this is Snowcat, fire mission is on its way, I have observer protocols, please now take all measures to clear all civilians away from the fire-grid points. If I do need to detonate a round short of the targets, all units be prepared to improvise advance-and-evade flightplans around the surviving fire-grid point."

  It was messy, this ad-hoc collection of civilian units and operating procedures ... communicating in a language everyone could understand was a challenge, and a long way from the jargon brevity of Dark Star familiarity. But if people misunderstood, they were going to get killed. ETA showed three minutes now until the kill-zone ... and if the shuttle's start-up sequence was where she thought it was from the displays, they'd be rolling in about eighteen. Somewhere up in high geo-stationary orbit, Mekong was now firing, high-V shell-casings accelerating at bone-crushing Gs, hitting atmosphere in two minutes, shell-burnoff for another two, flight activation, target acquisition ... they'd come straight in at many times terminal velocity, a mere five minutes twenty-three seconds from first firing. Giving them about twelve minutes between now and the shuttle departing. Well, at least they could get close enough then to wing the shuttle while it was still on the ground ... although that too could prove tricky, given the variables.

  "All units," she announced, "switch lanes to a kill-zone parallel." With a quick flash of mental illustration to show what she meant, flightpaths selected that ran alongside the kill-zone perimeter, attempting to look innocuous. She didn't think it would work, but it might keep them guessing. "We're going to get about twelve minutes once the grid goes down, I'll get you your landing points when it happens. It's a fluid situation, be prepared to improvise."

  "Copy that," came Vanessa's reply, calm and unworried. And she suffered her first flash of worry-"Don't trust me too much, Vanessa, I'm not perfect. I can't monitor everything you're doing realtime like I would a Dark Star team-mate through direct neural linkups, I'm relying on you to use your own brain." But she knew she couldn't waste time worrying about that, for everyone's sake, so she forgot about it, realigned the tac-net channel to remote, unplugged herself, unbelted and swung up from the chair into the cramped aisle and headed for the rear ... the data-flow was less intense, without the direct linkup, but only marginally, and the complete, stable, tac-net picture remained constant in her head.

  The four security agents were already arming up, a tight cluster of armour harnesses, light gear in various pieces and stages of attachment, nothing like the heavy grunt-gear SWAT used, just enough for light protection with full augmentation ... She flattened herself past Odano and one of the sec agents, keeping balance in a rough piece of air with practised ease, double-handle twisted the grips on the first available locker and the doors swung open ... there were six basic sizes of suit, precise fits were superior but it looked like everyone was going to find a size close enough. Hauled off her jacket and hung it, sent the shoulder holster after it-a tight wriggle as an armoured body squeezed past toward the front-and took calm note of the ongoing tac-net conversation with the SIB, who had neither adjusted lanes, nor slowed down. Nor, just as alarmingly, had the media vehicles. And more were highlighted ... like carrion birds headed for a fresh carcass, they grew to a swarm by following each other's lead.

  She got a hold of the overhead handles and slapped herself backfirst into the torso armour. A quick, reflex fastening of straps, feeling the auto-measurements rearranging for her size and shape, and snapped the chestplate down, then worked her way down to stomach, pelvis and thighs, each time the familiar snap-whine of connection, and the tightening adjustment to a firm fit. The sec agents cleared the rear, leaving room for Ari, K
azuma and Odano, who scrambled into their gear with somewhat less than her own rapid grace. Bank as the flyer continued course along the kill-zone perimeter. The SIB didn't seem to be slowing ...

  "... Snowcat not to be taken as reliable," the leader was saying as she tuned in directly, "... Dali could not have e s c a p e d without CSA f o r e - k n o w l e d g e , CSA is a t t e m p t i n g t o allow Dali to escape ... " Sandy couldn't believe that. She just couldn't. And hacked quickly onto their channel...

  "This is Snowcat to all SIB and accompanying units, this is a CSA operation, SIB is not within CSA tac-net. If you proceed within the four kilometre exclusion zone about the spaceport the fire-grid will fire upon you ...

  "All SIB units are operating under Senate Security Panel authorisation Meta-Niner-Alpha, direct instruction to apprehend Dali personally. There has been no infiltration of fire-grid, SIB sources indicate otherwise ..."

  "SIB units, your sources are wrong, stand down immediately. " That was Ibrahim's voice. Ibrahim knew of the SIB's "special sources"? And who would be talking to the SIB behind everyone's backs? And could the SIB honestly be stupid enough to listen to them?

  "SIB units," she tried again, but ...

  "Listen, you little piece of shit," Vanessa cut in, "on your present flightpath you have approximately twenty seconds left to live. Worse, you're going to put them onto us. We're not going to waste breath warning you again. "

  No reply.

  "Oh shit," said Kazuma breathlessly, "I have to see this." Sounding uncharitably excited as she hastily fixed her helmet into place out of sequence, hooking up the feed and getting the visor down ... Tac-net showed the lead two SIB vehicles headed straight at the kill-zone. Sandy switched to a visual feed, clear vision of both SIB cruisers, fiveperson aircars, government issue, but hardly combat-worthy ...

  "They wouldn't?!" exclaimed Odano. Sandy watched her feed with as much incredulity as combat reflex allowed to surface. Both aircars kept going, the second perhaps naught-point-two klicks behind the first. Multiple fire-tracks registered on tac-net from the firepoints about Gordon. The lead car shattered to fragmented pieces barely a second later, exploding in flames almost as an afterthought as the combustibles ignited. The second car took wild evasive action, vis-feed tracking from an external camera ... shots ripped out to it as it plunged and twisted, shells exploding in rapid unison a hundred metres beyond as if hitting an invisible barrier. She could see it was going to make it, the fire patterns fixed in her head, the ranges from various batteries, the speed at which they adjusted, shells chasing, then detonating alongside in fiery bursts, then out and clear, trailing smoke and left-side low as the mayday call went out, and panicked, incredulous exclamations burst across the broader net. Barely two hundred metres inside the invisible kill-zone, a long, black plume of smoke rose from the thick forest like a funeral pyre.

  "That," Ari said mildly, "is possibly the silliest thing I've ever seen."

  "I wouldn't say that, personally," Sandy replied, bending to finish her final leg-adjustments, "but it definitely makes my top five."

  "You've seen four things crazier than that?" said Kazuma. No doubt about it, she looked almost cheerful in her incredulity. "Girl, you must have seen some weird shit."

  Sandy shrugged. "Mai pen rai," she said, ignoring the helmet to go instead for the light headset ...

  "Mai pen what?" said Kazuma.

  "Thai," An informed her, working once more on his own armour attachments with intense concentration. "Means 'whatever.' An old Thai friend once told me Tanusha was a 'mai pen rai society."' Sandy finished settling hair and headset into place, snapped up, checked, loaded and activated the Tanu-55 assault rifle with a series of rapid moves, and shoved off to mid-aisle, directly confronting An.

  "Okay, greenpea, what did you test in armour?"

  "Mean average eight-point-three," Ari told her, wincing as the thighplate clacked in and the whole leg assembly tightened on auto. Apparently calm, but for the brief, flickering glance of dark eyes in her direction ... worried, she reckoned, past the typical Ari Ruben deadpan. She didn't think the armour suited him. Too official. "Authority." Not a good look for an underground fringe-dweller.

  "What about you?" she asked Kazuma.

  "Eight-point-nine," Kazuma said smugly. Further progressed in her suit-up than An. Had more practice, Sandy reckoned. It seemed to be Kazuma's thing, and the little gunslinger seemed to enjoy it. Sandy distrusted that implicitly.

  "You'll do what I tell you." Gazing firmly at Kazuma. Half expecting a smartarse remark.

  "Yessir," Kazuma said smartly, meeting her gaze with total honesty. Unwaveringly loyal. She didn't trust that either.

  "Sandy," said An, re-catching her attention. "No hard feelings? I couldn't tell you what Sal Va had, Ibrahim put me onto it personally, straight from Neiland ... when it's connected to the President like that, I just couldn't tell you, you're not cleared for that information. It'd be political suicide for her if people found out you'd been told

  "I understand perfectly," Sandy told him calmly. Just when did you start picking sides and protecting politicians, Ari? she wanted to ask him. Just when did you decide that something mattered enough for you to get involved? But she didn't have the time. "You're also going to do what I tell you. Everyone on this flyer is in the rear, SWAT Four gets the serious work, you get that?"

  "No argument here."

  "There's a chance we'll get some space to make a flanking manoeuvre up the left. If that happens I'll go first and you'll cover me. That's all you'll do. Everyone belt in tight, approach should get a little rough." She shouldered the rifle and hand-over-handed her way up the narrow aisle, past equipment, supports and waiting armoured agents, and stopped in the open space behind the cockpit ...

  "Sandy, where's the damn missiles?"

  "Two minutes, Ricey, I'll get you a countdown in thirty."

  Gordon continued to function, net traffic was alarmed. She could see security lights in places, crash trucks on the tarmac, some gatherings of people who'd come out to stare in horror at the plume of smoke from beyond the forest perimeter, some who were just standing stunned, shocked by the sight and sound of the fire-grid in operation, rapid staccato thumps from out on the perimeter followed by the angry, buzzing rush of projectile fire overhead. And she added "civil panic" to the list of probable circumstances she'd have to contend with, and hoped like hell the local security had removed all civilians from the north wing ... tac-net wasn't clear on that, local security were evidently in a state, there were no clear reports available.

  There was a new shuttle in Berth 14, however, right alongside the FIA's craft ... the schedule showed it was new, only having docked twenty minutes ago. There were no records of disembarkation. Neither was there a name, or a registration.

  "HQ, I want full details on the shuttle in Berth 14, I'm getting nothing on it."

  "Roger, Snowcat. "

  She was in no mood for further surprises. It wasn't leaving again immediately if it had only just gotten in-shuttles took a few hours at least to turn around. But the proximity and the blacked-out ID were too much coincidence for her liking.

  "I don't like that one, Sandy," came Vanessa, reading her mind. "I

  think I might blow the access early, keep them inside. "

  "Could do, let's see ..." And saw tac-net highlight red as someone else broke the perimeter, accompanied by alarmed calls of "Someone's in!," and "Who the fuck is it?"

  A fast mental zoom-and-highlight ... "Media cruiser," she announced. "Broadcasting civilian press ID on every frequency, don't talk to it, you could trigger an attack, it's too late now."

  Aghast silence from on the net. They'd completed nearly a half-circuit of the complex now, and Sandy stared out the right-side windows. She had a broad, clear view back across the crisscrossing of runways, terminal and building complexes, to the looming towers of Tanusha beyond ... and a small, lonely dot that grew as she magnified it, wandering out into that lethal space above the spacep
ort.

  "What in the prophet's good name are they doing?" muttered the pilot.

  "Trying to win "journalist of the year." And betting the FIA won't fire on media." So far it was working. Another minute and the OMS would take out the emplacements. There was a shuttle coming in for landing too-that was safe, she'd discovered on a separate scan, firegrid couldn't fire on civilian shuttles, visual verification was hardwired and wouldn't allow it-and thank God for the common-sense genius who'd written that protocol into the software. Another was circling. Worse news, three were on the tarmac awaiting take-off, one just now lining up ... traffic control were under supervision from CSA HQ, they knew what was going on, she had to hope they'd stay rational. "SWAT Four, change course, reverse circuit, we might need to come in from different angles."

  And watched the SWAT flyer comply, banking completely around to head back the other way along the kill-zone perimeter ... and then she saw something moving by one of the fire-grid emplacements. Zoom-and-focus on tac-net, an overwhelming rush of data ... and found a vehicle, grounds maintenance, zooming out along a service way toward the low, squat, ferrocrete bunker that housed the cannon mount ...

  "HQ, I have a civilian vehicle at grid-point three, please remove them immediately." Impact ETA thirty seconds. "SWAT Four, gridpoint three may survive impact, project fireshadow ..." And whacked her own pilot on the shoulder. His hands moved, the horizon banking sharply and Gs shoved down hard ... dammit, grid-point three was due north, they were presently west-headed-north in their circuit of the spaceport, now they had to get ninety degrees back south to give them a covered approach from that firepoint. Still the civilian vehicle approached. A hundred metres ... too close, it'd singe their eyebrows. Stopped at fifty metres, just beyond the ground perimeter fencing.

  "Snowcat, this is HQ, vehicle is not responding, must be a bad com. "