by David Drake
Yes, it might be very bloody indeed. Adele’s lips twitched again at her unspoken joke.
CHAPTER 28
Calvary Harbor, Zenobia
Adele had decided to wear utilities on the ground: they were loose, practical, and had pockets for even more equipment than she expected to carry. She glanced toward Daniel, waiting beside her in the Sissie’s boarding hold while the ship’s exterior cooled enough to allow them to disembark.
Daniel met her eyes. Though she hadn’t spoken, he grinned and said, “No, these aren’t—”
He fluffed the breast of his second-class uniform. He wasn’t wearing either medal ribbons or a pistol belt; both were permissible by regulation but not required.
“—because I’m worried about being called up on charges of being out of uniform. What we’re doing qualifies as dismounted duty as sure as riot suppression would. Though I sincerely hope that it won’t involve shooting.”
Tovera snickered; Adele’s face blanked.
Daniel gave them a wry smile and said, “I’m well aware that my hopes aren’t controlling in this situation and may not even be realistic. But I’m hoping to convince Gibbs that I’m a fellow officer with whom he can have a calm, peaceful discussion about the best way to proceed from here.”
“I know the best way to proceed,” said Hogg. Occasionally Adele noticed twinges when the servant moved his right hand, but he seemed to have adequate flexibility in it. Certainly enough to squeeze the trigger of his impeller. “And no, don’t you worry, young master, I won’t shoot till you say to. But I said back when we got him the first time that the best place for Gibbs was him and a boat anchor wrapped in a fishnet and dropped in the harbor, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Hogg, you did,” Daniel said. “But since that would always be your opinion, I think I can be forgiven for leaving Gibbs under guard instead.”
He smiled, but there was a little more edge to his banter than Adele was used to hearing. He thinks Hogg may have been right this time. Well, it’s an easy mistake to rectify.
The pumps were running with an unfamiliar note. They normally refilled the tanks of reaction mass whenever a ship touched down on water. Adele hadn’t been paying much attention to the discussion of repair priorities on the command channel, but she now recalled that one of the feed hoses was to be run into an access port in the starboard outrigger instead of being dropped straight into the harbor in normal fashion. That would more than keep up with the leakage.
The twenty spacers waiting in the hold were quiet. They were ready for anything that might happen, but they had been in similar situations too often by now to show nervousness.
The section was armed with a variety of bludgeons and knives, but no guns. Very few spacers were good shots to begin with. Since a child was being held hostage, Daniel didn’t want projectiles flying about unless he was very sure of the person aiming them.
Adele had her pocket pistol; Tovera’s miniature sub-machine gun fired the same light ceramic pellets as the pistol. The stocked impeller would punch its osmium slugs through a brick wall, but in Hogg’s hands the weapon would do so only if he wanted to shoot whatever was behind the brick wall.
Adele glanced at imagery of the main hall of Cinnabar House. Since the console—the only one on Commission premises—was there, Adele had a view of about three-quarters of the hall. Gibbs was pacing around his tied-up hostages.
The former assistant commissioner carried an electromotive carbine, taken—probably bought—from one of the militiamen who were supposed to have been guarding him, and a Cinnabar service pistol which had probably come from a drawer somewhere in the building.
He looked desperate and as vicious as a weasel. What in the name of heaven does he expect to gain by all this?
But that wasn’t a fair question. The game would end for Gibbs in precisely the same place that it would end for Adele and for every other human being. Considered against the Heat Death of the Universe, Gibbs’ hostage-taking made as much sense as Adele’s determination to free a decent couple and their child from a nasty little traitor.
The notion amused Adele. It was good that she wouldn’t have to justify her decision to anybody else, because in her own mind she was behaving quite irrationally.
Thinking of that, she looked toward Daniel and said, “By the way, you needn’t worry about how Admiral Mainwaring is going to react.”
Daniel looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “To be honest, Officer Mundy,” he said mildly, “I stopped giving Admiral Mainwaring’s curiosity any consideration when you told me that a child’s life was at stake. I’m sure the admiral will display the same sense of priorities; and if he doesn’t . . .”
Daniel gave a shrug of disdain that a perfumed courtier couldn’t have equaled. Daniel is a genuinely good-natured man, Adele thought, but I wouldn’t want him to catch me mistreating a child.
Her mind flashed to an image of soldiers nailing the head of her little sister to Speaker’s Rock. A shiver danced through her. Until that moment there had been a possibility that Commander Gibbs would survive the coming interview.
“Of course, Daniel,” Adele said, deliberately informal despite there being other people around. “I misphrased my statement. I meant to say that I explained to the admiral that I had conveyed orders from a higher authority to you. He stumbled over his tongue in assuring me that he would wait to debrief you until it was convenient. He emphasized that he had no wish to learn anything about your actions which could not be discussed with propriety between two RCN officers.”
Daniel blinked. “You told him that I was under orders from . . . ?” Even under these circumstances, he couldn’t bring himself to articulate Mistress Sand’s name.
“You are being guided by the principles of justice and of protection of the weak,” Adele said primly. “Which surely take precedence over an admiral’s whim, do they not?”
Daniel guffawed. “Not necessarily in the opinion of the admiral,” he said, “but I don’t think we need to press that question to a no-doubt busy Admiral Mainwaring.”
He coughed against the back of his hand. “Ah—thank you,” he said. “Adele.”
The dogs withdrew like anvils falling on steel all around the perimeter of the boarding hatch. It began to squeal downward to become a ramp.
“Bloody well about time,” growled a technician with a long-handled wrench in his right hand. He rubbed the head with his left palm. The wrench jaws were powered, but the man’s shoulders and biceps didn’t look like they’d need assistance if he had to use the tool today.
The air which puffed through the widening gap was warm and wet; it made Adele sneeze. The flames of the plasma thrusters incinerated any organic garbage floating in the slip, leaving a residue to mix with leftover ozone ions. The result bit and cloyed on the nasal passages in equal measure.
“All right, Sissies!” Daniel boomed. Everyone in the hold could hear him despite the screech of the lowering hatch and the more general chorus of cooling metal. “Officer Mundy and I lead and the rest of you follow as polite as if you were going to divine services. We’ll talk to the locals first, and you will not under any circumstances make a peep until I give you orders to. Do you understand that?”
“Aye aye, sir/Six/Cap’n!” echoed thunderous agreement.
Daniel let the response settle, then added, “Right you are, fellow spacers. There’s a little girl’s life on this, so keep it calm and don’t let anything get out of hand.”
The ramp rang into position, resting on the starboard outrigger. Adele shut down her data unit and tucked it away. Her pistol was in its usual place, but she didn’t feel a need to touch it at present.
“Sir, they’ll make you proud,” said Woetjans, standing at the control switch. She looked as though she’d been dragged from her grave. Her weakness was so obvious that she hadn’t objected to Barnes and Dasi leading the section. “You know they will.”
Daniel gave her a gentle smile. “Of course they will, Chief,” he s
aid. “You trained them, after all.”
Looking over his shoulder he continued, “Come on, Sissies. We’ve got a job to do.”
Adele kept pace with Daniel down the ramp. Instead of crowding ahead, the spacers followed Hogg and Tovera in a double column. They were in about as orderly a formation as Adele remembered seeing ever in her RCN career. One—one of the few women in a group chosen for brawling ability—was humming “Haul Away Joe,” but that was probably an unconscious attempt to keep cadence.
“Is the Founder up there to meet us?” Daniel asked quietly as they reached the floating extension. He didn’t point or otherwise call attention to the group waiting at the upper stage of the quay.
“No,” said Adele. “Lady Posthuma is, and Major Flecker is with her. The rest are various palace functionaries, department heads or the like. I assume Posy brought them in case you need something specific from the local authorities.”
Daniel chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “I just need plenty of elbow room,” he said. After a moment he added, “I really don’t want anything to happen to that little girl, Adele.”
“Yes,” said Adele. She understood being worried, though the feeling didn’t make her talkative: she became either depressed or angry. This time she was angry.
Daniel mounted the steps to the fixed portion of the quay in the lead, since there wasn’t room for two people abreast. When Adele reached the top, Posy Belisande stepped forward and embraced her. Being shot wouldn’t have surprised Adele as much.
“Adele,” she said. “You made it possible for Otto to speak to me, did you not? To let me know that he was alive and that you had won?”
Adele blinked. Patching through the call hadn’t been difficult, though the process had left her with the belief that the signals officer of the Z 46 must have some skills besides his professional competence to have advanced to the rank of lieutenant. There had been moments when she had considered sending Cory or Cazelet aboard the destroyer to complete the connection.
“Ah,” Adele said. “Yes, I suppose that’s correct. But it isn’t particularly germane at the moment, ah, Posy.”
“Not to you, perhaps,” the younger woman said, stepping back with an expression Adele couldn’t read. It seemed positive, at any rate. “But we’ll speak later.”
The spacers were shuffling past and re-forming against the edge of the quay. Occasionally one would adjust the truncheon under his belt or pat the meaty end into his palm, but they projected an air of eager calm.
“I see you have a truck for us,” Daniel said, taking charge of the conversation. He nodded toward an articulated goods wagon. The two streets on the route between the harbor and Cinnabar House were wide enough for it, though the vehicle wouldn’t have done for much of Old Calvary. “My man Hogg will drive. If you’ll see to it that your people will pass us through your cordon, we’ll get on with our business.”
“I’ll ride with you to the post on Nation Way,” said Major Flecker. “And wait there with my troops.”
“Captain?” said Posy. “Wouldn’t you rather have an aircar for yourself and Lady Mundy? I’ve brought mine. Otto’s engineers say it is perfectly safe.”
“No, Your Ladyship,” Daniel said. “I’ll stay with my people. With your permission, we’ll be going now.”
From the way Posy’s eyes widened, she apparently understood the chill in his tone. Adele was sure it was unintended, but . . . Posy had a great deal of experience with aristocrats. Apparently this was the first time she’d met a war chief leading his troops into battle.
“A moment, Captain Leary,” said the dry, precise voice of the woman standing behind Lady Belisande: her maid, Wood. Though she had spoken to Daniel, her eyes were on Adele as she continued, “Might I perhaps be of service?”
Hogg stiffened, then looked at Tovera; Daniel didn’t speak. Wood’s right trouser leg was cut off at the knee to allow what was either a bandage or a thin cast over her lower leg, but she appeared to move normally.
Tovera grinned at Hogg in a reptilian fashion. She said, “Don’t worry, Wood’s on our side. We’re all allies now, right? Cinnabar and the Alliance.”
And if you think Tovera believes that, Adele thought, you’ll buy the Pentacrest from the first sharper who offers it to you as prime Xenos real estate.
“But thank you, mistress,” Tovera went on to her former compatriot. “We have this covered. And besides—”
She nodded to the cast.
“—you appear to have had your share of the fun already.”
Wood grinned back with no more humor than Tovera’s expression had indicated. “In that case,” she said, “may I offer this?”
She held out a small chest to Adele. It wasn’t as large as the attaché case which held Tovera’s sub-machine gun when she wasn’t wearing it in a hip holster, as now.
“It has a variety of self-propelled viewing devices,” Wood said. “Since you may not have brought your own?”
“Thank you,” said Adele, taking the chest in her right hand without answering the implied question. “Now, Captain, I believe we are ready.”
“Right!” said Daniel as he strode for the truck cab. “Follow me, Sissies!”
Not far behind Adele in the shuffling line of spacers, the tech was singing, “First I had a Dunstan gal, and she was fat and lazy . . .”
Daniel opened the door from the right—residential—wing of Cinnabar House onto the covered space separating it from the official wing where Gibbs held the Browns hostage. Folks in Bantry would have called it a breezeway; but since it was two floors high and part of a mansion, it probably had a more impressive title.
It was a very run-down mansion, though. The double doors facing the street were solid, but the interior arch gave onto the garden through a pair of wrought iron gates. They admitted plenty of light for the plants growing from the cracks between the patio tiles.
Daniel had brought Adele, Hogg, and half the spacers with him in through the back of the residential wing. Water-damaged plaster had flaked onto the rear hallway, the valances above the curtains in the reception room were rotting, and there was a pervasive smell of mildew. The condition of the upper floor, closer to the leaking roof, could easily be imagined.
“Do they have any servants?” Daniel asked Adele quietly, continuing to watch the door opposite. They were to the left and right side of the vestibule: Daniel standing and Adele seated with her data unit. Hogg sat cross-legged on the floor between them, his left elbow on his left knee to brace the impeller which he pointed toward the closed door of the official wing.
Adele, seated also, continued to watch her display. She said, “They had two, neither of them much good that I could see. Presumably both ran off when Gibbs burst in with a gun.”
Daniel shrugged. He was waiting for a signal from Tovera, who’d gone with the team under Dasi to enter through the kitchen at the back of the garden.
“I suppose one can’t really blame them for running away under those conditions,” he said.
Hogg snorted. “Can’t I?” he said. “What d’ye suppose some yobbo would have got if he’d broke into Bantry House to grab you and your mother twenty years ago, eh?”
“Besides me head-butting him in the crotch, you mean?” Daniel said with a grin. “I take your point, Hogg, but I don’t think servants with two weeks’ service can be held to the same standards as those whose families have two centuries of service.”
The vestibule to either wing had a heavy door opening onto the patio and a light one on the inside, the hall side. The outer walls of Cinnabar House were blank brick for their full height; all the windows looked out on the garden.
“Is there any chance we could starve him out?” Daniel asked. He pitched his tone hopefully, but he didn’t imagine it was going to be that easy. And he wished that Tovera would signal.
“Cinnabar House was stocked with thirty cases of military ration packs,” Adele said primly. “They’ve been on the accounts here
as far back as I can trace them, at least thirty-three years. I suppose they may have gone bad.”
This time it was Daniel who snorted. “I’ve eaten older packs,” he said, “though ‘going bad’ implies they started out better than a civilian might imagine was the case. Why in heaven’s name were they stored here?”
“I have no idea,” said Adele. “But I’ve made a note to check the regional records when we return to Stahl’s World.”
Daniel grinned. “Assuming,” he said, in near synchrony with Adele’s, “Assuming.”
She didn’t look up from her display, but her smile would have been noticeable even to someone who didn’t read her expressions as well as Daniel did. “I’ll admit,” Adele said, “that our chances of reaching Stahl’s World look better than they did six hours ago.”
“Sir?” said Barnes in a quiet voice.
Daniel stepped aside—out of sight from across the courtyard—and looked toward the hall. Barnes crouched in the doorway. Behind him waited the members of his squad in anxious silence.
“We was thinking, a couple of us could go up and come down by the roof, sir,” Barnes said. “If he’s on the ground floor, you know?”
“Hold what you’ve got, Barnes,” Daniel said, trying not to snarl. It was very hard to keep still in a tense situation, but that was the right course here. “I don’t know what Gibbs would do when he heard noise overhead. Regardless, it wouldn’t put us ahead of where we are now. We’re going to wait until Tovera has a bug in position and then open negotiations.”
“There,” said Adele. Her data unit projected two images in the air between Daniel and Barnes.
The left half—Daniel wasn’t sure whether it was an omnidirectional display or if the rigger was seeing a colored blur—was from the console in the room where Gibbs held his hostages. The commander was drinking from a wine bottle. He held the carbine’s grip in his right hand with the butt resting on his hip. He hadn’t shaved, and he looked as savage as a starving dog.
The other half of the display was initially a ragged-edged circle. It suddenly expanded to a view of the entire room from the back corner of the wall onto the garden. The bug had drilled in through a window sash. The lens provided an anamorphic image which Adele’s software corrected. Daniel was getting what seemed to be a perfect three-dimensional view of the room and its occupants.
