A Choice of Treasons (22 page)

“Answering door, meereen.”

“You answer the door.”

“No! Meereen answering door.”

York slowly opened his eyes again. The whore had looked a lot better two nights ago.

He sat up carefully, swung his legs off the bed, gulped hard as his stomach turned a somersault, swallowed bile. But then the pounding started again, and the pain in his head took his mind off his stomach.

The pounding grew louder. He glanced around the whore’s dingy little room, realized a lot of the pounding was coming from the door. “All right,” he shouted. “I’m coming. Just cut the god damn racket.”

He stood unsteadily, staggered to the door and touched the lock mechanism. The door burst open in his face, knocked him across the room back onto the bed. The room filled quickly with marines carrying small guns.

York froze. The whore froze. The marines froze.

Palevi walked into the silence that followed, glanced about the room, bent down to York’s uniform piled on the floor, picked it up and tossed it to York. “You’re offline, Cap’em. Get back online, now.”

York keyed his implants, heard, “. . . are canceled. You are ordered to report in immediately.”

It was a recorded message. York waited for it to repeat. “Bridge
Invaradin
to all personnel. Watch Condition Red. All leaves are canceled. You are ordered to report in immediately.”

York started pulling on his clothes while Palevi sent his marines back out into the hall with orders to “Seal the place up. Nobody in or out. Anyone opens a door—close it.”

York keyed his implants as he pulled on his tunic. “Ballin reporting,” he said.

The message in his implants ceased, was replaced immediately by the simple statement, “Stand by, Lieutenant.”

York didn’t think he could stand by long with his knees ready to buckle beneath him. But Kalee showed up, dug into his medical kit and produced an injector. “Clear your head, sir?”

York grunted, “Ya.”

The medic casually pressed the barrel of the injector against York’s throat, pulled the trigger. York heard the injector spit, felt a nasty sting on his neck. His head swam for a second, then the fog from the abuses of the past two days cleared, though he knew he’d pay later for this instantaneous relief.

His implants barked with Telyekev’s voice. “Ballin, this is Telyekev. Where the hell have you been?”

“I was offline, sir.”

“You were offline? You know damn well you stay online when you’re off ship.”

“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not. You’re with Palevi and his marines, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get all your marines to the embassy on the double. You’re authorized to commandeer any transportation you need. Use force if necessary and get there fast. We don’t have much time.”

“Pardon me, sir. But I don’t understand.”

“God damn it, York, we’ve got Federals transiting in all over the system.
Invaradin’s
already under way with
Nostran
and
Irriahm
, going to engage, buy you time. I had to scramble, left a lot of crew dirtside. We’re telling everyone to head for the embassy. I want you and your marines there to protect them and the embassy staff, especially the royal family. Get there! On the double! Use your own discretion where necessary. Any questions?”

“Yes, sir. Then what do we do?”

“Berkma’s working out some sort of evacuation plan. You’ll have to find out what it is when you get there. Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Telyekev out.”

York’s implants went dead. He looked at Palevi, then at the small gun the sergeant held cupped in one hand. “Where’d you get that?”

Palevi grinned. “I don’t go anywhere without something, Cap’em.”

York nodded and started pulling on his clothes. “See if you can find me one. And did you hear the old man?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How far to the embassy?”

“A good forty kilometers, sir.”

“Ground transportation?”

“We ain’t gonna get far on the ground, sir. Streets are jammed. It’s a riot out there.”

York froze with one leg in his pants. “A riot?
Feddies
?”

“Don’t think so, sir. Just lots of civilians with lots of panic. Guess they figure when the warheads start falling they’d best be someplace else.”

York continued pulling on his clothes. “Then how far to the navy yard?”

Clearly Palevi had already thought of that. “A little more than a klik, sir.”

“Shuttles? Gunboats?”

“No gunboats, sir, but they’ve got two large shuttles and a small courier. Shuttles can each hold about a hundred of us packed tight. The courier—maybe ten.”

“What’s our count?”

Palevi grinned. “We got two hundred and forty-two actives, sir.”

York sat on the bed, started pulling on his boots and asked, “We’ve got Yagell and her people?”

Palevi nodded. “Terk’s a good marine, sir.”

York got his boots on, stood too quickly and the room tilted crazily. Palevi reached out to steady him, then pushed a couple of pills into his hand. “These’ll help, sir.”

York looked at the pills and frowned a question at Palevi. The sergeant answered, “
Nerve jackers
.”

York tossed the pills into his mouth, looked around quickly for something to wash them down with, found a half empty glass of
trate
near the bed. He took a gulp, fought to keep it down and barely succeeded.

“Staff meeting,” he told Palevi, trying to breathe around the
trate
fumes. “All NCOs—” He tried to recall those he’d seen in the saloon. “—Notay, Yagell, Hyer, Tathit, Elkiss, Cleaver, and that second looie from
Irriahm
. The red head; what’s her name?”

“Simorka, sir.”

“Did I miss anyone?”

“No, sir.”

They’d converted the ground floor of the saloon into an armed camp, with heavily armed guards posted at all exits. Most of the guards were toting rifles, and two were actually carrying rotaries. York nodded toward the guards. “Where’d we get the firepower?”

Palevi smiled. “Salley’s ex-marine, keeps some stock on hand for emergencies.”

York didn’t comment on the legality of a civilian possessing such weaponry.

Most of the marines didn’t look to be in any better shape than York. Simorka looked absolutely green. Elkiss was still drunk, or drugged, or both, and none of Kalee’s instant remedies worked. York took her off the active list.

People and surface vehicles completely jammed the streets outside. Commandeering transportation would have been useless, so York decided to lead a squad of thirty on foot to the navy yard. He needed to get the two pilots, Hackla and Blake, to the shuttles so they could ferry marines to the embassy. The
Drop Zone
was nicely secure, and with a little over a kilometer of panicked civilians between there and the yard York decided to take Palevi, Notay, Hyer, and one of the rotaries as insurance. Nominally, Simorka would stay behind in charge of the saloon, but just before leaving York pulled the young lieutenant aside unceremoniously. “Between you and me,” he told her, “you’re in charge as long as you listen to Yagell and the other NCOs. You understand?”

Fear showed plainly in her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Just hold the place secure until we get back with the shuttles.”

York marched to the main entrance of the saloon where Palevi had his squad lined up to one side of the door. He took his customary place in the front of the line. He looked at Palevi. “We all set?”

Palevi had on his grin. “As set as we’ll ever be.”

York switched his implants to the open marine frequency. He looked at the four marines guarding the entrance, nodded. They swung the doors open to reveal a sidewalk filled with confusion. York stepped through the doors, moved to one side and pressed his back to the outside wall of the saloon. Palevi was right behind him, took a position on the other side of the door. Ten marines followed on his heels and formed a tight semicircular perimeter the width of the sidewalk.

A half-dozen civilians, in the midst of a free-for-all, paused and suddenly took notice of them, and for a moment several of them seemed ready to turn their panic on the small group of marines. But the uniforms, the discipline, the weaponry—the rotary out in front—any thought of attack disappeared quickly.

York barked into his implants, “Squad two, go,” and again ten marines filed out of the saloon, but they moved to York’s right, expanding the perimeter up the sidewalk. York followed them, at the same time calling out, “Squad three—go.”

It went rather smoothly, leapfrogging by squad down the crowded streets to the navy yard, diligently maintaining their perimeter. On their way they picked up a number of
Invaradin
and
Nostran
crewmembers who’d been trying to make their way to the navy yard in small groups, and only once did they have any trouble with civilians: a large mob that outnumbered them so heavily it was not intimidated by uniforms or discipline. York had the rotary lay down a volley at their feet, and that discouraged them quickly. In all, it took them just over a half hour to get to the yard.

The yard was actually just a small shuttle port, with a junior officer in charge of a meager maintenance crew and a few marines for security. York and his marines swept past the gate and took charge of the place quickly. The two pilots went immediately to check out the shuttles while the rest of the marines found a small arms locker and started stripping it quickly of its contents. York spotted the young officer in charge of the yard having a difficult time trying to push his way through the marines. When he saw York he started waving frantically, shouted above the confusion, “Sir, Commodore Berkma wants to speak to you immediately.” He waved a small handset above his head.

York sliced his way through the crowd of marines, took the small handset and put it to his ear. “Ballin here,” he said.

“Ballin!” Berkma shouted. She was as close to panic as any civilian, and that confirmed what York suspected about her combat experience. “Where the hell have you been, Ballin? Why haven’t I been able to contact you?”

“Sorry, commodore. Without a combat harness I had to lock my implants to the marine frequency while we made our way to the yard.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She calmed down a bit. “Where are you? We need your help. There’s a riot going on here.”

“I’m at the yard with thirty marines. I’ve got two hundred and forty-two actives, most holed up in a saloon about a kilometer from here. We’ve got two shuttles we’ll use to ferry them over to you. Should have the first batch to you in less than half an hour.”

Berkma’s voice filled with relief. “Excellent, Lieutenant. Excellent!”

“Ma’am?” York asked carefully. “May I ask what the situation is?”

“So far we’ve had four
feddie
warships down-transit just beyond
heliopause
. But we’ve picked up transition wakes for another two out beyond that. It doesn’t look good.”

The gravitational well of a stellar mass made it difficult to maintain an accurate transition vector, so the
feddie
ships had down-transited just beyond
heliopause
to compute a course correction. They’d try to transit in as accurately as possible from there.

Telyekev was standing-to just beyond Dumark’s
nearspace
, waiting for them to make that second short jump. The gravitational well of the planet would compound their inaccuracies, allowing him to ignore those with badly perturbed vectors. He’d target on the transition wakes of the rest while they were blind and nearly helpless in transition.

“Captain Telyekev said you were setting up an evacuation plan?”

Berkma’s voice rose slightly, edging toward panic. “We’re trying to reach
Cinesstar
. She’s been parked in a synchronous orbit for the past two months going through systems checkout after complete overhaul at the station. Limited crew plus maintenance personnel, evidently with no one manning the com because we can’t get a response. Any way you can get up there?”

“There’s a courier ship here,” York said, trying to formulate a plan as he spoke. “Should be able to get a few of us up there.”

“You have my authorization to use any means you choose.” Berkma switched off.

York keyed his implants. “Palevi. Notay. See if you can find any vac suits around here, then meet me at that courier.”

They came up with seven standard issue vac suits, no plast or armor. The courier had seats for a pilot and four passengers, cramped, no air lock. York put Palevi in charge of the marines going to the embassy, decided to take Notay and five of her people with him. Kalee gave them all a good strong dose of
higee
, and backed it up with
nerve jackers
.