Better to Beg Forgiveness (51 page)

They all stayed quiet, contemplating their own thoughts, as Jason carefully felt his way through the racks and found hiding places. Each of them had a good field of view of the hatchway, and some kind of insulation, whether fabric, padding, or laminate.

Aramis was ensconced in puffed plastic bubble wrap, the thick kind with ten-centimeter bubbles, peeled from between two boxes. His feet jammed the boxes tight against the shelf so they wouldn't shift, and his right shoulder was painfully against the rear upright, but that did make his left a bit more comfortable, while straining the right side of his neck to match. With a bag of coveralls in front of him, he was hard to see. Jason was directly behind the door, wrapped in a sack, and they met eyes and stared. Not good, not bad, just mesmerized and meditating.

The occasional indecipherable chatter on the PA was now replaced with, "All hands, report and stand by to secure for boost."

Critical juncture. Would they inspect with scans? Cameras? In person?

A few moments later, thumping and voices outside presaged the hatch being cranked open.

"Supplemental storage, check," said a voice.

"Check," said another.

Aramis didn't even see a head poke in. The crew were conducting a routine inspection for anything blatantly obvious; hull breach, structural damage, that sort of thing.

It got quiet again, but the background noise contained whirs and clicks now. When clanking noises started, he twitched slightly. Jason just nodded from his position, and waved a signal to the others. A snap and a rumble, and gravity started to return with a certain amount of unnatural vibration.

Jason rose carefully and signaled. Aramis rolled carefully out of his hide, raising his legs, twisting and lowering to the deck. Gravity built, but didn't seem to get above about .5G. Actually, it was boost, thrust, whatever, but it felt like gravity and made things easier. He had a floor now.

Shortly, they were stacked up to the side as Jason undogged and opened the hatch. They flowed through and to a ladder, then started up.

Aramis was halfway onto a step when Shaman grabbed him. He looked back to see signed,
Bal slow on ladder.

Right. The man wasn't in as good a shape. Well, neither was Aramis at present. He could legitimately take a slow pace, not injure himself, and still be fast enough to keep the group together. He nodded and started climbing.

There were three deck rings between their cubby and the flight deck, bridge, whatever. The climbing was hard, because it had to be quiet, and the G field was unfamiliar. It made sense to have Aramis in front, even injured. He could scoot ahead quietly, stop at the next deck ring, watch for crew, then move across the opening to the next ladder. He just hoped no one noticed that he climbed with one arm, and that he had both weapons slung for that same arm.

Of course, the gut-wrenching fear was someone coming straight up or straight down. There was no way to explain a group of seven armed stowaways on the ladder, and the safety hatches at each deck were a sober reminder that they could be blocked in, sealed off, and the tube evacuated. Or they could just be held in a tube for ten days or so, then taken out filthy and half starved by Aerospace Force STs.

Enough of that. This was a commercial craft operating in a secure area, and no one had acted like they expected trouble so far. Initial boost was the safest time to be making this approach, so now was the time to do it.

And while he was musing, he'd led the way to the top. Two meters of corrugated decking separated the top of the ladder from the hatch to the bridge. Once stacked, they swarmed up and forward, and he grabbed the lock.

It wasn't necessary to hit as a unit, they hoped, and it was necessary to get across the space fast in case they were seen. One man opening the hatch wasn't too out of place. Seven would be. So he undogged it as the rest slipped up behind him, Alex guarding the rear, then pushing past to be up front. The latch came free, Alex nodded, and he pulled it open.

Deep breath
, Alex thought and did, focusing.

Then the hatch popped out.

"Hi, we're hijacking your ship," Alex said as he stepped into the cabin. He only had a pistol. On the other hand, the crew had nothing. Bart and Aramis crawled through behind him.

"Excuse me?" one of the officers said. He moved toward an alarm button and Bart zapped him. The man tripped on his console and was sprawled in a moment, flat on the deck.

"We're hijacking your ship. Do you want to live or die?" He waggled the pistol.

A sturdy blonde woman at the far side, presumably the captain, raised her hands and gestured for calm. The two others, both women, complied, but kept looking from her to Alex and back. Their comrade groaned and started coming around. That was good. Killing anyone would screw the deal. The team spread out to cover all angles, though there wasn't much here. Alex noted large screens all around the hemisphere, control consoles with both wired and wireless connections that were modular and could be shifted around to the couches. There were lights focused on these couches and indirect illumination of moderate intensity elsewhere.

The woman said, "I am Captain Schlenker. Do you expect to get away with this, Mister . . . ?"

"Smith will do," he said. "Yes, I expect to get away with it. For three reasons." He let that hang.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"One, there's no need for violence. We just need a ride. Two, that ride is to Grainne, where you're heading right now. And three . . ." He waved a hand behind him, Elke stepped out, and dumped a bag of UN marks and bullion over the deck.

"We plan to pay you to continue with your flight and just keep silent."

After a moment's silence spent staring at the drifting pile, Schlenker said, "That is the most fucked-up method of hijacking I've ever heard of."

"We get that a lot," Alex grinned. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal not to start trouble or scream for the military while you explain what's going on," she said.

"Done."

Everyone relaxed. It was obvious "Smith" and his cronies could cause a lot of trouble. However, declining to do so indicated . . . something other than piracy.

"Still, I require that everyone stand over there," he gestured. "And you come here so I can explain this quietly, Captain."

She didn't look thrilled, but complied. He couldn't blame her. Cash on the deck was not cash in the bank, and nothing legal was going on. He stopped her at arm's length and handed her a sheet of actual paper, with the outline printed on it. Roughly, it said they were escorting a contractor, escaped from what amounted to indenture in Kaporta with their medieval laws on labor, and needed to get him beyond extradition range.

Shaman was with the President in the back of the group, keeping him somewhat hidden. The captain looked at them, reread the paper, and said, "And how do we do this, Mister Smith?"

"Simple," he said. "Two of my people stay up here all the time. No one does anything stupid, or mentions it belowdecks or on radio. We aren't wanting to hurt anyone, but we are determined to get there, and quietly. No one tries to talk to us and reason with us about how hard it will be to debark. That's our problem. We'll give you fifteen thousand now, mixed gold, palladium, and cash, and the balance upon arrival."

"Balance?"

"Hundred thousand total. If all goes well, our charge will give you an additional amount."

"And I take your word on that?"

Alex looked at Jason. "Pilot, show them the course to Grainne."

Jason nodded, handed his pistol to Aramis, strode over to a station, and began punching in coordinates, boost rates, and fuel expenditures for the jump point.

"You have a safety margin of eleven point three eight percent," he said as he worked.

"Eleven point four, but I get your meaning," Schlenker said. "You don't need us." She didn't seem scared.

"Not at all," Alex said. "Just a ride."

"If you're so decent, what's to stop us from making a scene?"

"If we're so decent, you don't need to. If we're not, you're risking escalation from bribery to piracy. I leave the call to you, but we are determined to get there. Pilot."

Jason said, "We'll debark at Jump Point One as passengers, and be out of your hair. We obviously know our way around a port. Since it's Grainne, we'll just declare ourselves and walk off. You don't need to declare the cash, except maybe to your company. That's between you and them. If it helps, we can not reference your ship. No trouble with Grainnean soldiers, no trouble with Station Ceileidh security. Our people meet us. You'll have your cash, and if the rest of our travels go well, you'll have the bonus for being gracious hosts."

"Tell me honestly why you're doing this," she insisted, eyes hard.

"Let's say we had a mixup with the UN over our contract, and don't want to debate the situation. They wanted a peaceful resolution, and we don't do that well." It was a believable story, and had happened before.

She nodded. "Fair enough. As long as you do it well here."

"I think we'll get along fine," Alex said. "Pilot, you and Babs will stay here for first shift. We need a safe stateroom for the trip."

"Our staterooms hold four," Captain Schlenker said.

"We'll be fine with seven in one, since two will be here at all times. That gives us five in one stateroom."

"You value your privacy and don't want to be split up," she said. Well, no one expected a captain to be stupid.

"We are professionals at arms, Captain. I advise against testing us. Really."

He hoped she'd take that advice.

Nodding, she said, "Mister Radaman, please show our guests to the stateroom." She turned and said, "We have one unused stateroom, one deck down. That will have to do, unless you'd rather displace me or some of the crew."

"That will be fine," he agreed. "We will retire there now."

Elke and Jason looked at each other and around, as they were left with the four crew on duty. Captain Schlenker glanced at them from time to time, but generally stuck to her console. An older redhead recovered the loot from the deck and counted it. She looked to be decently shaped even inside her coverall. He acquired her name from conversation. Gina, deputy captain and astrogator. She got called below a few minutes later.

"They need me in sick bay," she said on her way, not really asking permission, but assuming. "I'm a trained nurse, too."

"Who's hurt?" he asked suspiciously.

"One of yours." Her eyes were flinty.

Alex called right at that moment, doubling the surprise. The two of them stayed in contact, not trusting the crew even after a bribe. The ship was close to port and could easily divert. He'd made a point of keeping a close eye on navigation, just in case. The combination of all those factors triggered his alertness to a level close to "fight."

"Yes?" he replied at once on radio.

"Kiddo is in sick bay. He was worse off than he let on, the dumb shit."

"Fuck. Will he be okay?" The kid was annoying but good. He didn't want to lose him. He gestured to Gina, who nodded acknowledgment and slipped through the hatch.

"Hoping so. While it looks nasty it shouldn't be life threatening."

"Keep me informed, please. Gina is on her way."

"Of course, and thanks for confirming. Out."

Jason pondered that. So far, that was the worst wound they'd suffered, but far worse was possible at any time. He felt himself getting old fast.

Thirty minutes later, Schlenker said, "We are increasing to one standard G boost," over the intercom and net. She looked at Jason as she said it.

"Understood," he acknowledged.

Thrust increased and then steadied. After checking her console, she secured from it, rose and headed aft.

"Going below," she said.

"See you next shift," he agreed. After she left, he commented to Elke, "Four hours to go."

Elke said softly, "I expect we'll change before that, without notice. No need for them to know our schedule. I also expect regular support visits."

"Undoubtedly," he replied. "Alex is good at schedules. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Sure enough, they were relieved two hours and seventeen minutes early by Shaman and Bart. That was a pair to intimidate anyone.

"Everything has been cleared," Bart leaned close and informed him quietly. "The reason you have not had a rest break was because a tour of the ship was necessary. The supplemental transmitters in Engineering have been disabled. The crew is not happy, but believes we mean what we say. Boss is patrolling with Bal to make him look normal."

"Good," he replied. "How's Ar— the kid?"

Shaman said, "Muscle damage, nerve damage, hemorrhage, muscle and bone, but he'll survive. His condition has made the crew somewhat nervous, as it was clearly the result of a firefight. They know we have inflicted casualties." He looked a little worried himself. Elke had a neutral expression that he'd learned meant she was worried, too.

"Well, at least they know we're serious," he shrugged. "And I'm glad he's going to heal. Back we go."

It was going to be a long fourteen days, he thought. Eight days of hard boosting until they reached Jump Point One, the only jump point this system had so far, and then six more days across Sol System, braving serious danger, to jump to Grainne, where they could freely and safely broadcast that Bishwanath was still alive. They still didn't know if that would matter once they did, but there were places to get lost in the Iota Persei system where people with skills could survive well paid and discreetly. As long as they got there . . . 

The stateroom was about what he expected. The others seemed to have expected something more glamorous. It was a typical stateroom, with two stacks of two bunks with G harnesses rolled against the bulkhead, lockers under the bottom bunks, and enough space to stand between them. One end had a fold-down dining table/desk, a heating unit/refrigerator combo, and a door into a restroom with a shower, lavatory, and a toilet that pulled up from the deck on a lever. The door was a polarizing clear polymer.