“I'm sorry,” Orlova said.
“Pierre was a brave man,” Duvall replied. “Braver than me. I'll walk through the streets to fight the Xandari with a gun in my hand, but the only weapon he had was his mind and his voice, and he used both well. He made his decision, and I've made mine.” Gesturing ahead, he said, “There's a rear entrance, top secret. Used to sneak out the unpopular guests. Which means the government knows all about it.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “And in about two minutes, some friends of ours are going to breach it.”
“Then how do we get up?” Kelot asked.
Moving over to a garbage bin, he pulled off the lid and started to pull out black-painted cables, replying, “We climb.”
He passed around the climbing pads, hand-sized gloves covered in a special membrane designed to adhere to walls, then the ropes to attach them together, ensuring that one slip would not lead to instant death. They quickly prepared their equipment, tugging at the cables to ensure the fit was tight, and donned the gloves, Kelot shaking his head as he looked at the equipment with a critical eye.
“Will these work?” he asked.
“Each glove can hold up to two hundred kilograms,” Duvall said. “I've used these myself, climbing up in the hills. Just don't move too quickly, and make sure that you're hands are in contact with the side of the building at all times. If someone drops, anchor on as best you can. It's a long way down.”
Nodding, Orlova led the way down the alley, waiting for the ear-splitting siren to herald the distraction. A moment later, the dull wail echoed through the streets, and she heard the familiar crack of gunshots reverberating from the walls, shouts as guards chased intruders, the noise of engines starting up. Overhead, lights danced around, the Xandari drones joining in the action.
“Now,” Duvall said, and they raced towards the building, gambling on the distraction of the guards. A camera tracked across them, and Orlova froze for a second, before Duvall flashed a toothy grin at her, shaking his head. He didn't seem to care about the surveillance, and with her heart sinking, she chased after him, placing her hands on the side of the building, confirming that the gloves worked as advertised.
As she started her ascent, she longed for the low gravity of Mars. There this would have been simplicity itself, but here she felt as though a mighty force was dragging her down, her arms rapidly tiring as she cautiously climbed, hand over hand. She quickly moved into a routine, releasing one hand, reaching up to slam it into place, testing it before dragging herself up, then releasing the other hand to repeat the process.
She made the mistake of looking down, and shook her head. It seemed as though they had traveled no distance at all, that they still had a long way to go. Figures scurried around, looking for intruders, but here their carefully applied camouflage came to the fore. Anyone with infra-red detectors would spot them in a second, and they climbed past a second camera, the lens once again focusing on them. Kelot moved to the side, ready to swipe it away, but Duvall shook his head.
“Leave it,” he said. “That will attract too much attention.”
“They'll be waiting for us,” Kelot said, shaking his head.
“No, General. Trust me.”
“Let it go,” Orlova said, looking at Duvall as he climbed on. If this is a trap, he was going into it with them, though fears of treachery started to fill her mind. Duvall had plenty of chance to turn them in, was responsible for her escape in the first place, but the Xandari had played enough tricks that she couldn't be certain of anything.
At least they could now see their progress, and though her arms were tired, she was settling down into the motions of climbing, Kelot grunting away behind her, struggling to rise. Even Duvall was growing weary as they made their way to the topmost level, carefully swinging past an antenna complex, which jutted out from the side of the building.
“Careful. If we hit that,” Duvall said, panting, “and half the city will lose their holovision. Not a good way to gain public support.”
Finally, they reached the roof, and tumbled over the guardrail to the top of the building, a guard waiting for them with a rifle at the ready. Orlova looked at Duvall accusingly as the rebel pulled off his gloves, reaching across the shake the guard's hand.
“What is this?” Kelot asked.
“A friend,” Duvall replied. “Until two minutes ago, he was manning the cameras.”
“Which have just had a rather serious malfunction,” the guard added. “Serious enough that I'll be coming with you when this is over.”
“Haven't I see you before?” Orlova asked, looking over the somehow familiar face of the guard.
Red-faced, the guard replied, “Raul Alvarez.”
“The mob,” Kelot said. “The one that attacked the church during the wedding.”
Nodding, Alvarez said, “I'm afraid so.” Looking down at the floor, he said, “If this is the only way I can make up for that, so be it. I was worried that the Koltoc were planning to bring Copernicus into their dominion, but the Xandari are a million times worse.”
“Can we talk about this some other time?” Duvall said.
“One level down,” Alvarez said. “The way I came is clear, but we've got to move quickly.”
“What are we waiting for?” Kelot said, pushing ahead to the door. He raced down the stairs, Orlova behind him, weapons at the ready. The time for stealth was passed, and in a few seconds, everyone in the building would know what they were doing. Speed was all that mattered now.
The stairwell opened up into a corridor, the guard snapping alert as they approached, raising his pistol a second too late as Kelot opened fire, his bullet slamming into the guard's shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground. Sirens sounded everywhere, and Orlova sprinted forward, Duvall right behind her, sliding into the control room before the hatch could close.
Two technicians turned at their approach, a Xandari standing behind them, reaching for his pistol. Duvall's gun barked a trio of shots, one for each of the technicians and the third into the Xandari, sending him reeling, his pistol still in his hand. Orlova fired twice at point-blank range, into the neck of the alien foe, and finally, he dropped to the ground, his twitching body gasping its final breath.
She reached down for the pistol, her eyes widening. That was Triplanetary issue, a plasma pistol, and fully charged. Snatching it from the floor, she looked at the control panels, Duvall moving in ahead of her, pushing the body of one of the technicians out of the way.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Crash all the drones. Cut their engines and let them fall.”
“I can wreck the systems, as well.”
“Let me worry about that.”
Gunfire echoed from outside, Kelot shouting a curse as a fusillade of shots rang out. She looked at the cable, looped over Duvall's shoulder, and carefully pulled it away, holding it in her hands. He'd made certain they had enough, a good ninety feet. She did a quick mental calculation, then nodded in approval, securing the cable to a structural beam in the ceiling, giving it a hard tug to make sure it was secure.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Never mind for the moment. How long?”
His hands rattled across the keys, and he replied, “I've got to override the safety controls. They've got systems to stop me doing just this.” With a grin, he depressed a button, then said, “That should do it.”
Orlova looked out of the window, spotting a drone orbiting overhead, and smiled as it rapidly began to drop, hurtling out of the sky like a meteor, smashing into the street below. All across the planet, that would be happening, the silent eyes in the sky shut, at least for the moment.
“Having trouble out here,” Kelot said, his words punctuated by gunfire. “They're coming at us from both sides now. How long?”
“Pull back,” she said. “Get in here on the double.” She gestured
for Duvall to stand behind her, then raised the plasma pistol, cutting the power down to minimum. “Close your eyes, and get ready for the blast.”
She squeezed the trigger, and a rippling green flame raced from the weapon, slamming into the control console, the burst of heat reducing it to a pile of wrecked junk, unrecognizable and definitely irreparable. Duvall looked at the remnants of the console, his eyes wide, then looked at the gun.
“I want one of those,” he said, shaking his head.
“The fun hasn't started yet,” she added, as Kelot charged into the room, Alvarez behind them, covering the door. Turning to the far wall, she ramped up the power switch as high as she dared, then fired again, a second pulse ripping through the concrete, sending an eruption of shards flying to the street. Tossing the cable through the hole, she peered out, watching it fall. Only a few meters short of the ground, close enough to do the job.
“Get going,” she said. “You first, Duvall.”
Ripping a piece of material from his sleeve, he quickly wrapped the fabric around his hand and swung out of the room, sliding down the cable as rapidly as he dared. Kelot followed, looking at the wall with amazement, with Alvarez reluctantly looking at the cable, glancing back at the door.
“Move,” Orlova ordered. “I've got this.”
As the guard tumbled down the cable, she turned the pistol to the door and fired, tearing a hole in the floor and setting the walls outside on fire. The approaching figures recoiled from the blast, and she turned with a smile, grabbing onto the cable and sliding down it, gripping tightly to ease her fall, her hands hot from the descent. She dropped to the ground, knees buckling as a hand grabbed her, Kelot helping her back to her feet.
“Not a bad exit,” he said, gesturing up, and she saw smoke billowing out of the top level of the building, the wail of sirens sounding as the fire brigade responded to the attack.
“Come on,” she replied. “Let's get out of here. I really don't want to be on the morning news.”
Chapter 9
Salazar watched the screen, frowning at the black display. He'd selected their target system based on what had seemed at the time to be a watertight series of assumptions, but the five days of hendecaspace transit had weighed down upon him, and more than once he'd found himself going back through the analysis again, second-guessing his decision, trying to find reasons that he might be wrong. Not that it would make any difference if he was, not at this stage. The attack was to begin in ten days. Five days for dimensional stabilization, and one long jump to Copernicus, right at the limit of their range.
“As soon as we clear the egress point, Midshipman, I want full speed,” he told Maqua, sitting at the helm.
“Aye, sir. Course already plotted for maximum acceleration and random walk pattern. We should be clear of any defense system in seconds.”
“Hooke, I want you watching that electronic warfare console. If anything launches, you'll be the only protection we've got, and one hit could wipe us out.”
“No pressure, then,” the hacker replied with a wry smile. “I'll do what I can, sir, but with only seconds to respond, it's going to be touch and go.”
“Granted,” Salazar said.
“All decks are clear for action,” Foster added, turning from her console. “Missiles ready for launch, set for defensive fire.” Shaking her head, she added, “Though that won't do us much good if they get a salvo in the air when we arrive.”
“Ten seconds, sir,” Maqua said.
“You have the call, Midshipman,” he replied.
“Aye, sir, I have the call.”
A blue flash lit the bridge as the ship burst through the egress point, warning sirens sounding across the deck as Random Walk's engines roared, sending them hurtling into the system. Half a dozen targets tracked across the sensor display, Neander ships in orbit around the world below, two of them positioned to cover the egress points.
“Missile satellites!” Spinelli said. “Looks like we're coasting right through them, sir. No problem.”
“We're being hailed, Captain,” Weitzman added. “Colonel Skeuros. He seems to be under the impression that his people are in command of this ship.”
“Do nothing to disabuse him of that notion until we are well clear, Spaceman,” Salazar replied. “Keep us moving, Maqua. Full evasive course.” He watched the screen, waiting for the trajectory tracks to change as Random Walk raced for orbit. Just as they cleared firing range on the missiles, one of the Neander ships altered course, coming in towards them at full burn.
“That didn't take long,” Foster said. “Firing range in three minutes.”
“You can answer Colonel Skeuros now, Spaceman,” Salazar said, sitting back in the command chair. The familiar figure of the Neander pirate appeared on the screen, a scowl on his face, a group of uniformed officers standing behind him. He wasn't on the bridge of a ship, instead sitting a conference room, evidently in the middle of a meeting.
“Lieutenant Salazar,” he replied. “What happened to the crew of Random Walk?”
“Dead in the battle or serving elsewhere in the fleet,” Salazar said.
“I see,” he said. “And your purpose in coming here?”
“Does it matter?” one of the Neander in the background said. “They've found us, and we can't take the risk that the Xandari will attack. We've got to shoot them down, before they can leave the system.”
“They can't jump for five days, Major,” Skeuros said. “How about it, Lieutenant.”
“We're putting a second task force together to fight the Xandari,” Salazar replied. “We have a battle plan that we are convinced will work...”
“Just as at Copernicus?”
“We were betrayed, Colonel, as you very well know, and if it hadn't been for the treachery of the planetary government, we would have won that fight.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “We need your ships if we are to have any chance of victory.”
“That's our ship,” another voice said. “Stolen from our people.”
Shaking his head, Skeuros replied, “No. Absolutely not. I cannot put my people at further risk.” Turning to the rear, he said, “I will not shoot them down, though. Lieutenant, you must understand my position.”
“At least give me a hearing, Colonel, face-to-face. I think I've earned that much.” Behind Skeuros, one of the Free People, now wearing the makeshift uniform of the Consortium, looked down at the ground. “Just two of us, nothing more. We'll abide by any decision made there.”
Shaking his head, Skeuros replied, “It's a waste of time, Lieutenant.”
“I've got five days to waste, Colonel, before we jump back into the fight.”
One of the Neander looked ready to protest, but Skeuros nodded, and replied, “We'll expect you in a few moments, Lieutenant. Skeuros out.”
“It's a trap,” Foster said, bluntly. “He'll take you prisoner and hold you as a hostage, force us to turn over this ship, maybe imprison us.” Shaking her head, she added, “Let me go in your place, sir.”
“They agreed to see me, Val,” he replied. “I've got to go.”
“You'll need a pilot,” Maqua said, a smile on his face. “I volunteer.”
Salazar reached up for his eye-patch again, resisting the urge to scratch it, and replied, “Very well, Midshipman. Go and get the shuttle ready for launch. I'll be down in a minute.” As the helmsman bustled from the room, he turned to Ryan, standing at the rear of the bridge, and said, “You're in command until I get back.”
“Pavel...”
“If I'm captured, do whatever is necessary to get clear of the system. No heroics, Mike, and I mean it. You'll be needed at Copernicus. If I'm captured, I'll find some way to get clear. Understood?”
“We can't just abandon you,” Foster said.
Rising to his feet, he looked at her, and replied, “Yes, you can. That's an order, Sub-Lieutenant
. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, sullenly, turning back to her console.
“Relax,” he replied, with a certainty he didn't feel. “I know what I'm doing.”
“I hope so,” Ryan said, as Salazar walked off the bridge, making his way down the long corridor to the shuttle dock. He looked down at the gun at his belt, then unbuckled his holster, leaving it resting on the command chair. If there was a settlement down there, the population must number in the thousands. He wasn't going to shoot his way out of this one.
Maqua was already settled in the cockpit as he climbed into the shuttle, the hatch sliding shut as it dropped down through the elevator airlock in the cramped landing bay. For once, he was grateful not to fly. Somehow, he had to convince them to risk everything to fight the Xandari, and try as he could, the words just didn't come.
The shuttle dropped clear of the ship, engines roaring to toss them away, hurling them towards their target, and he looked down at the planet below. It wasn't much of a place to build a home, but its very anonymity provided a measure of safety. Had the roles been reversed, had a desperate Skeuros arrived at his colony, trying to convince him to risk the safety of his people in a fight that would be next-to-impossible to win, he doubted his response would have been any different.
He looked down at his datapad, skimming through the battle plan once again, just as he had countless times on the ride out. There were a lot of assumptions implicit in the outline, far more than anyone involved was comfortable with. They needed an active resistance on the surface of Copernicus, one able to launch a full-scale uprising on the eve of their attack, and they needed more ships than they had. Three ships, four counting the patched-together Random Walk, just wouldn't be enough for the job, even if everything else worked perfectly.
And yet, he knew that regardless of the odds, he was going to try anyway. Even if the Neander refused to help, even if he would be flying alone, he'd still make the attempt. Too many of his comrades were depending on him, and one way or another, he would find a way not to let them down.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Pyrrhic Victory Page 8
