‘That’s it!’ exclaimed Vila. ‘I got all of them!’ He gaped at the screen as though unable to believe what he had just seen.
Blake turned to Jenna. ‘It was thanks to your piloting, and tactics,’ he said, smiling.
Jenna smirked, looking calmer than she felt inside. ‘The battle computers are good, but they don’t have a smuggler’s touch.’
‘There’s not many who could do what you just did,’ Blake said.
‘That’s true,’ Jenna answered, slowing the big ship down as she steered it into more open space.
Blake laughed at her honest immodesty. ‘You all did well,’ he said. ‘If we work together as a team, we’re going to win.’
‘Try telling Avon that,’ muttered Vila.
‘He knows that value of sticking together,’ Gan said. ‘It’s safer for him, so he’ll do it.’
‘It may not always be safer,’ Vila predicted, not looking at Blake.
‘Avon’s a good man in his heart,’ Blake said confidently. ‘He makes a lot of noise about acting on his own, but he’s one of us really.’
He strode down onto the flight deck and looked up at the mottled panel that represented Zen.
‘Zen, if we stay where we are, how long with it take to replenish the energy banks, and for the auto-repair systems to fix the ship?’
Zen’s lights flashed before the computer answered.
‘REPAIRS WILL BE COMPLETE IN APPROXIMATELY THIRTEEN HOURS. ENERGY BANKS REQUIRE FORTY HOURS TO REACH FULL CAPACITY.’
Blake stroked his chin as he thought. ‘How full will the energy banks be after fifteen hours?’
‘ENERGY BANKS ONE AND TWO WILL BE RECHARGED. ENERGY BANK THREE WILL BE AT FIFTY PERCENT CAPACITY.’
-‘Is that with the autorepair systems working?’
‘CONFIRMED. IF THE AUTOREPAIR UNITS DO NOT OPERATE, ENERGY BANKS ONE, TWO AND THREE WILL BE FULLY CHARGED AND ENERGY BANK FOUR WILL BE AT THIRTY PERCENT CAPACITY.’
‘That sounds better,’ Blake mused.
Jenna shook her head. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ she warned. ‘If we do run into trouble, the ship’s integrity is only eighty percent. I’d rather have a fully repaired ship with slightly less power available.’
‘Me too,’ said Vila. ‘Or better yet, we wait here for as long as it take to recharge the batteries completely.’
‘I can’t do that,’ Blake replied. ‘I promised Avon and Cally I’d be back, and that’s the schedule I’m sticking to.’
‘It’s not just your ship, though,’ Jenna objected. ‘There’s four of us on board, and all our lives may be at risk.’
Vila nodded vigorously in agreement. Gan just watched expectantly.
Blake stepped back towards his station, his attention on Jenna.
‘I said twenty hours and that’s what they’ll be expecting; that timing will affect what they choose to do down on Belzanko. It’s also what they will have told Allston. If I don’t show up on time, it’s going to look bad to Allston.’ His voice became deeper and more urgent; his attention fixed on Jenna more fiercely. ‘This action on Belzanko is my first opportunity to prove myself directly to resistance leaders across the Federation. We’ve already had to pull out part of our forces early. I’m relying on Avon to do something good with that data he stayed behind for. I’ve got to be seen to do the job I said I would, or else I’ll find it much harder to get co-operation from other resistance leaders.’ Blake’s eyes were glowing with determination. ‘Our chance of fighting the Federation, of uniting resistance leaders and really getting something started, depends on getting the fight off to a good start. We’ve got to do what we say we’re going to do. I’ve got to keep my word. Do you see that?’ he demanded of Jenna.
She stared back. ‘Yes. I see you have to keep your promises.’
‘Good.’ Blake relaxed into a smile, and the tension on the flight deck eased.
He spun around to face Zen once more. ‘Zen! Recharge the energy banks and get the autorepair systems going. We’re staying here for the next fifteen hours.’
Jenna hit a switch and returned the ship to automatic, before leaning back against her seat and letting her eyes close for a moment as adrenalin drained away.
‘If we’re not going anywhere, I’m going to catch up on my sleep,’ Vila announced. He bounced down from his station and hurried away before anyone could stop him.
Gan ambled down from his own perch. ‘You did a good job,’ he told Jenna, with a smile.
‘Thank you.’ She hauled herself off her seat and looked at Blake. ‘I think, for once, Vila has the right idea.’
Blake smiled. ‘Don’t let him hear you, it’ll go to his head.’
‘A compliment would die of loneliness in Vila’s head,’ Jenna answered, stepping down from the pilot’s position and stretching. ‘I’ll see you in a few hours.’
Blake nodded, still bright eyed. ‘I’ll take first watch.’
‘I’ll take second,’ Gan offered.
‘Thank you.’ Blake made a shooing gesture. ‘Get some rest first.’
Gan nodded, and followed Jenna off the flight deck.
*
As their footsteps faded away, the flight deck became quiet, apart from the gentle sounds Zen made. Blake looked around with the pride of possession, and smiled.
*
The Central Stock Exchange of Belzanko was easy enough to recognise, and even more impressive in real life than it had been in pictures. Cally paused across the street from it, and stared in wonder at the sweeping construction.
‘Hyperbolic paraboloid roof,’ said Avon, halting beside her. ‘Unusual on this scale, they’re commonly smaller.’
The body of the building was made of glassteel, which glittered in the low, late afternoon sunshine and gave it an insubstantial appearance. The spectacular roof was of a light grey metallic material, which seemed to hang in the air, unsupported by the glass building below, and consisted of an uninterrupted double curve. The sides flowed down to within a storey of the ground; the front and rear rose high, like the prow and stern of an ancient ship. The stock exchange was four storeys at the front and back, with the peaks of the roof soaring several metres higher.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Cally. ‘I’m glad we’re not intending to blow this up.’
Avon flashed a wry smile. ‘Such a shame that it is used for such a sordid purpose as a stock exchange,’ he said.
Cally flashed him a look and pulled herself together. ‘Let’s go.’ She glanced at the traffic, then led the way across the wide street.
They were wearing the coats they had stolen yesterday, with their handguns concealed beneath them. The Liberator jackets were rolled up small and stuffed into pockets. The ID cards Avon had forged the night before were attached to their coats. Avon was carrying a small electronic device in one hand. Cally had Avon’s roll of tools with her. The double doors of the stock exchange slid open as they approached. The entrance had a waiting area with lounge chairs, a water cooler and low tables near the entrance. A glassteel wall with coloured patterns separated this part of the lobby from the rear section, which offered access to the rest of the ground floor, and to the lifts and stairs.
Avon led the way across to reception, which controlled the barrier between the two halves of the room. A man with grey streaks in his light brown hair, and an expression compounded of boredom and suspicions waited inside the reception booth. Avon showed him the screen of the electronic notepad he held.
‘Where’s the appropriate computer room?’ he asked in bored tones.
The security guard read the notice with the fake job on it.
‘There’s no work number,’ he said. his hands resting on the counter, away from the switch for the barrier.
Avon pulled back the notepad and looked at the screen, frowning. ‘I’m just showing you what was sent to me,’ he said.
Cally could feel his tension and his annoyance with the scrupulous guard, but he kept himself in control.
‘I need a work numb
er,’ the guard insisted.
Avon turned to Cally, standing beside him. ‘Did you get a job order with a work number?’
‘No,’ she said truthfully, her eyes darting between Avon and the guard. She couldn’t see enough of the security guard in his booth to able to tell if he was wearing a gun. Her empty right hand twitched, and she longed to be holding one herself.
Avon sighed impatiently and turned back to the guard. ‘You can see the order is for the job to be done this afternoon.’
‘I need a work number,’ the guard repeated.
‘It needs to be done today,’ Avon said. ‘Or else Industrial Copper won’t be doing any trading tomorrow, and they won’t be very pleased, especially big shareholders like Tory Pamson.’
The guard stroked a hand through his grey-streaked hair. ‘Pamson has shares in that company?’
Avon had chosen his cover story carefully. His research into the finances of Greerson and his cronies had brought up many companies associated with members of the government. Tory Pamson was indeed a majority shareholder in Industrial Copper Ltd. He was also one of Greerson’s allies, and the powerful Minister for Internal Security. As Avon had hoped, invoking his name was enough to make the security guard think twice.
‘Pamson earns a lot of money through Industrial Copper,’ Avon said. ‘He’s going to be very unhappy if that bug isn’t fixed. If I don’t get it right, it’s my neck on the line. If I can blame someone by saying I wasn’t allowed in for an hour, while I chased up a work number, then I will.’ He showed his teeth in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
‘Right.’ The security guard blinked rapidly as he tried to make a decision. He glanced again at the electronic notepad Avon held. ‘You put your company and your name here.’ He pushed forward his own e-pad and a stylus. ‘Then I can say I’ve got your details if there’s a problem.’
‘That makes sense.’ Avon put the name of the imaginary company on the work order and added the name on his fake ID. He handed the device back through the window of the security booth.
The guard scanned it quickly, then opened the barrier. ‘Up one level, turn left, fifth room along the corridor, on the right-hand side.’
Avon nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He led the way deeper into the building, Cally following, her eyes alert for trouble.
SIX
They took one of the smooth, spacious lifts but before they followed the cross corridor to the left, they stopped at the window overlooking the trading floor. This was on ground level, beyond the lifts. It was a massive room in the centre of the building, inhabiting the space created between the two, high ends of the roof. The curved ceiling sloped down at either side.
From their vantage point, Avon and Cally could see most of the large room, which was undivided by pillars or walls. Electronic boards mounted on the side walls, and hanging from the ceiling, displayed current prices for shares and other commodities. There were dozens of workstations, each attended by a neatly dressed person who spoke into a headset. Sound-damping fields around each workstation kept the room quiet, in spite of the activity happening within.
Avon and Cally watched the business going on for a minute or so. Cally was the first to lose interest, having little idea what was happening. She turned away, heading to the left, as they had been told. Avon followed, his saturnine face thoughtful.
‘Do we want the fifth room?’ Cally asked quietly. ‘Or would another be better?’
‘Are any of the others empty?’ Avon asked in return. ‘What can you feel?’
He waited in the centre of the corridor as Cally approached each door in turn. She paused outside each one, stretching out with her sixth sense to get an idea of the number of people within. This tactic wouldn’t work on Auron of course. Auronar were far more likely to notice her eavesdropping than these silent-minded humans. She couldn’t pick up more than vague emotions from these strangers, but there was enough to give her a rough idea of numbers. She headed back to join Avon.
‘The rooms are all occupied,’ she reported quietly. ‘But there’s one room with only a single individual. I can deal with them.’
‘Go ahead,’ Avon said, holding out his left hand by way of invitation.
Cally nodded once, spun, and returned to the door with only one presence behind it. Avon followed, unfastening his black coat for easier access to his handgun. Cally didn’t bother undoing the fake-fur coat, she just shoved the roll of tools into one pocket.
Wait here, she telepathed to Avon.
His eyes widened slightly at the still unfamiliar contact. Cally tapped the door control. It slid open, and she walked through briskly. Avon caught a snatch of conversation as the door slid shut.
‘Hello. Random inspection of workplace facilities.’
‘Workplace facilities? What…’
The rest of the other woman’s reply was cut off by the closing door.
Avon glanced up and down the corridor, hearing a burst of laughter from one of the other rooms. He frowned briefly, wondering what could be funny in the computer rooms of a financial institution. Then there was a grunt and a soft thud from the room Cally had entered. He stiffened, his hand darting towards the gun under his coat.
It’s all right. Cally’s silent voice reached him. Come in.
He hit the control and slipped through the door, his eyes searching to find out what had happened.
Cally knelt near a bank of monitors, a youngish woman motionless on the floor by her side. As Avon entered, Cally began examining the unconscious woman. He hurried over and knelt beside her, his hands gently touching the woman as she lay on the floor. There was no obvious sign of injury.
‘She’s stunned,’ Cally told him. ‘It’ll keep her quiet for a while.’
‘Good. Let’s get her out of sight.’
Avon helped Cally to drag the woman behind some workstations, so she wouldn’t be visible from the door, and left her to tie the woman up, while he started work.
With his black coat hung up, Avon opened the roll of tools Cally had carried in for him, and selected a long probe. Fortunately, the woman had been working at one of the terminals and was still logged in, which saved him some time. Avon swiftly inserted the probe into a connector to start accessing the programs within.
Cally quickly had her victim bound and gagged. She too took off her coat, wanting to look the part of a worker who had every right to be there. Like Avon, she retained her gun and belt though: she wanted immediate access to a weapon, and the gun wouldn’t always be immediately visible to a casual glance. She glanced once at Avon, already absorbed in his work, then began prowling around the room. The walls were lined with computers, their lights glowing and blinking in patterns that made little sense to her. The centre of the room was taken up with two banks of workstations and terminals. Avon was sitting with his back to the door. Their prisoner was on the far side of the same set of computers.
As the minutes passed, Cally too began to study the data flows on a monitor, trying to understand the information. It seemed to be a slowly scrolling list of companies, and their value, but so much was in abbreviations that it was hard for her to make sense of it. Avon had taken off a panel and was peering inside, occasionally adjusting something and glancing back at his monitor to see the effects of his work. The memory cube he had prepared with his program was set into a slot beside the keyboard he was using. Cally wanted to ask how long he was going to take, but held her silence. Talking would only slow him down.
Cally had risen again, when there was a tap at the door. Avon looked up, but Cally was already on her way to answer. She had her hand on her gun as she let the door slide partway open, and peered around. A young woman in a smart outfit peered back at her, puzzled.
‘I was looking for Bel,’ she explained, leaning in and trying to see more of the room. ‘Is she in here? She should be.’
‘She reported a fault in the system,’ Cally lied. ‘There was nothing else she could do today, so she went home.’
The young w
oman stared at Avon. ‘She didn’t stop and say anything to me about leaving early,’ she complained. ‘We were going to go out for a drink after work.’
‘I don’t know where she’s gone,’ Cally started to say, getting irritable at the interference.
Her words were interrupted by a thudding, and muffled cries from the far side of the room. Avon looked up sharply, suddenly alert. The young woman pressed against the gap in the doorway.
‘What’s that? It sounds like someone’s hurt.’
‘Come in,’ Cally said, stepping aside and letting the door open.
The woman entered, turning to where the noises were coming from. Cally hit the control to close the door.
‘Bel? Is that you?’ The visitor sounded doubtful, and glanced at Avon in hope of getting an explanation.
A quick stride brought Cally close enough to land a hard blow on the back of the woman’s head. The visitor gave a feeble cry and slumped forward. Avon jumped from his seat to catch her.
‘Help me,’ he snapped to Cally.
Together, they carried the semi-conscious woman behind the other set of computers, and lowered her to the thin carpet on the floor. Avon stared at her for a moment, then turned to face Bel, still tied up and gagged, but now conscious.
‘That’s what your efforts brought,’ he said harshly, as Cally began tying up the second prisoner. He rose briefly to stand over Bel. ‘By drawing attention to yourself, all you did was to get your friend into trouble. It’s better not to have friends,’ he told the motionless and frightened woman. ‘That way, you won’t try to help them, and you won’t get hurt.’
‘If you don’t have friends, no-one will try to help you when you need it,’ said Cally, shocked by his words.
‘If you don’t have friends, you’re less likely to need help in the first place,’ Avon told her coldly. He made his way back to his workstation and sat down again. ‘Next time you take a prisoner, make sure they can’t do stupid things,’ he said.
Cally bristled. ‘How much longer are you going to be?’
‘Another three minutes,’ he replied. ‘The security on these computers is very high, so it’s taken me ten minutes to get into the system. It would have taken another engineer twenty minutes,’ Avon added. ‘Assuming they were good enough to do it at all.’
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