Cypher (The Dragon's Bidding Book 2) (18 page)

Outside the entrance to
the bridge, she posted three of the Praetorians and Costos before she entered.
Accustomed to serving on the huge ships of the line like the
AriR
, the
control room of the corvette felt cramped with the bridge crew and officers,
augmented by the addition of their party.

The four main stations—helm,
communications, weapons and navigation—stretched across the forward section of
the bridge in a shallow arc, their viewing screens arrayed before them. At the
rear, a raised dais held the command chair, from where Wellborn could survey
his domain. Separating the two was the railed area traditionally called the
captain’s walk, where the officer in command could pace off nervous energy.

The helmsman quickly
relinquished her position to the Emperor, and Lister began to give Ari a quick
refresher on the controls. Wellborn had the look of a man who’d just realized
he’d lost control of the situation and surrendered to the inevitable. He
retreated to the dais only to discover two cats curled up in his chair.

“Everyone is back
aboard and at their position,” the XO said. “The landing bay has been cleared.”

“We have our clearance
from Coronia Traffic Control,” the comm officer announced.

Wellborn nodded.
“Engineering? Lieutenant Menendez, light ’em up.”

The ship came alive,
vibrations surging through its metal body, through the deck plates and up
Fitz’s legs. The mechanical song soaked into her bones, filled all the empty
spaces inside her she’d hardly known existed. She’d been planet-bound for too
long; months had passed since she’d been aboard one of the larger ships of the
line. The atmospheric shuttles didn’t count, not even Lizzy. There was a fierce
joy at being inside a vast mechanical creature, fashioned from the hearts and
minds of talented people and melded with the plexisteel soul of this metallic
beast she rode.

This moment had been so
long in coming. Ashcraft’s reign had been a dark time for the Fleet. She could
understand now why it was so important to take this ship out. Her smile spread
so wide it made her cheeks ache. In that instant she knew how Ari felt to be
back at the helm of a starship, to be alive as only a pilot can be. How could
she deny her friend that pleasure? Emperors had little enough time for joy.

The comm light on her
inhead flashed, but she pushed it to standby. She joined Mandisa on the dais,
leaning against the railing. That same fierce pride she sensed in Ari shone
from the XO’s face.

“It’s a good ship you
have here, Hazel.”

“No, Fitz, it’s a
great
ship. And I’m proud to be a part of her. But I hear you’ve had your own run of
good luck. Talk is you signed onto a long term bonding contract with Old Mad
Dog Youngblood.”

Fitz sputtered,
breaking into a laugh. “Mad Dog?”

“Okay,
Triumvir
Youngblood. But that’s what the crew has taken to calling him, what with the
ship’s nickname. It might be a little disrespectful, but they have a lot of
faith in him. He seems to be one of us. They think he’s just the person to turn
the Fleet around, to make us proud to do the Dragon’s Bidding again.”

The XO leaned in close.
“And I’ll bet he’s a little of the Mad Dog in bed, huh?”

“I’ll never tell.”
Fitz’s laughter brought tears to the corners of her eyes.

Fitz and Hazel had
served together on the
AriR
for several years, and developed the kind of
friendship that could allow such remarks.

The damn comm buzzed
again, but before she could put it on standby, Lizzy broke in. “I think you’d
better take this, Colonel.”

Bartonelli’s shout,
high and ragged, poured out of her comm as soon as she accepted the call.

“…Pike, not Wolf,
Chima. And if Pike’s here…”

“Slow down, Sergeant,”
Fitz said. “Slowly. Now, what’s happened?” Cold crept up her spine.

She heard Bartonelli
draw in a deep breath and blow it out. “They arrested
Pike
, not Wolf.
He’s not awake from the stun yet, so I don’t know what happened, but whatever
it was, I’m thinking it was bad, real bad.”

“Son of a…” Fitz bit
off the rest of the curse. “I can guess what happened.” Pike had said at lunch
that his hackers had plugged a few of Tritico’s back doors into the personnel
files—but not soon enough. That smiling bastard must have hacked in and
switched the records. If Pike was down there in the holding cell… She grabbed
Mandisa’s shoulder. “Commander, my aide, Lieutenant Pike, did he come aboard
the
Mad Dog
?”

“Yeah, and I have to
tell you, Fitz, I don’t know how you can put up with him. I would have thrown
his black uniformed ass off the ship if I—”

Fitz overrode her
friend. “Where is he? Still aboard?”

“He shouldn’t be. The little
jerk said he had more important business to attend to. As if we didn’t amount
to a pile of gerbat guano.”

“What did he look
like?”

Mandisa shrugged.
“Tall, slender. Not bad to look at in a kind of familiar way. Dark hair, dark eyes,
and a slightly not regulation mustache…”

“Mustache?” Wolf and
his disguises again.

“No other
distinguishing characteristics?”

“A cleft in his chin…”

“Shit, shit, shit.”
Anger burned through Fitz, melting the ice that had so recently locked her
spine. “That isn’t Pike; it’s the assassin. I have to know if he’s still on
board. Do you have a way of scanning for visiting personnel?”

Mandisa’s eyes grew
huge and round. She sprinted to the communications position, Fitz at her heels.
“Ensign, the man you scanned into the system earlier today? Can you locate
him?”

“Of course, ma’am.”
They had their answer in seconds. “Lieutenant Pike is in engineering.”

“Engineering?” shouted
the XO. “What the hell is he doing there?”

Fitz leaned in and
studied the board, and the flashing icon over engineering. “When we moved up
our timetable, we messed his up. Didn’t give him enough time to get off the
ship.”

“But if he’s gunning
for Ransahov, why would he leave before she came aboard? That makes no sense.”

“It does if he planted
a bomb. He’d want off this vessel as quickly as possible.” Fitz twisted around.
“Lister, get Ari to turn around. Get us back to the station.
Now
. Don’t
take no for an answer. I need her off and back down to the surface, where I can
control all the variables.”

So engrossed in the joy
of her flying, Ari seemed unaware of the drama playing out around her.

Mandisa grabbed her
arm. “What about my ship? If he planted a bomb…” Nervous looks passed among the
bridge crew.

“Have your people rip
this ship apart looking for anything out of the ordinary. I’m going after him.”
Fitz downloaded a schematic of the vessel from the ship’s computer and shunted
it to her inhead display. “Keep in touch with me on combat channel four, and
get us back to dock. Until I give you the all clear, no one comes through that
door, do you understand? No one onto the bridge; no one off.”

A streak of black left
the captain’s chair and met her at the door. Together, she and Jumper charged
through, stopping only long enough to give an order to the guardsmen.

“If anyone besides us
comes down this corridor and even looks like they’re trying to get on the
bridge—black uniform or no—stun the bastard, no questions asked. Just put him
down. Costos, you’re with me.”

Following the map of
the ship displayed on her inhead, Fitz hit hyperkinetic in three steps, Costos
right with her, and Jumper racing flat out to keep up.

Beyond the door to
Mandisa’s office, the sound of racing feet died down, except for one more
person, moving slower. Cypher pulled off his ID badge, listening, carefully
judging his timing. He opened the hatch and stepped through, slamming into a
young woman and driving her against the opposite bulkhead.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I
didn’t see you. Let me help you up.” He pulled her to her feet, while adroitly
removing her ID and replacing it with his. Anger flashed in her eyes, but fear
quickly replaced it at the sight of the black uniform. He dusted her off and
sent her on her way, wearing his identification. That should confuse them long
enough for him to find a way off the ship, but first he had to get out of this
uniform. He needed to blend in.

He moved deeper into
the ship, finding every door locked. Sweat beaded beneath his phony mustache.
Fleet personnel were a suspicious lot, always locking their quarters. A new
sound brought his head up and around. Two people, running quickly, no,
hyperkinetically. Gray Eyes and another augie? He had to get out of the
corridor now, but where? He rushed from door to door, trying to temper speed
with silence. The augies’ hyper-sensitive hearing could pick up every sound,
but all the doors were locked. Up ahead one stood open, and he put on a burst
of speed to reach it before his pursuers came into view. No time to slam the
hatch for fear they’d hear the sound and then he’d be trapped in the room.
Inside he flattened against the wall, watching the two black blurs sprint past.

They hadn’t seen him.

As soon as they were
far enough away, he shut the door and evaluated where fortune had brought him.
He stood in some kind of breakroom, coffee cups and dirty plates strewn across
every surface, discarded jackets and overalls thrown across chairs. Lister
people, of course; Fleet would never be so sloppy. He stuffed the uniform
jacket down the recycler chute, along with the stolen ID card, and pulled on a
pair of coveralls bearing the ship and galaxy logo of Lister. Next he removed
the mustache and contacts; not much of a change in appearance, but perhaps
enough to confuse someone long enough for him to take them out. He picked up a
tablet, tucked it under his arm, and reached to open the door. His hand went to
the comm panel instead. He snatched his fingers back.

He hadn’t done that.
Who? The Other? He couldn’t let him out, not now.

Just let go. Call her.
It’ll all be over soon. It’s okay.
The words whispered
across his mind, like wind over an ice field.

Cypher smacked his fist
against the plexisteel of the bulkhead. Pain helped, pain drove The Other away.
“Only over for you. I’ll be dead. Leave me the hell alone.” His voice sounded
high and brittle to his ears. He rolled his shoulders and fought down the
shivers rattling through his body—his body, not The Other’s any longer.
His
.

He palmed the door
release, but before he could step through, a small dark object dashed by, paws
nearly silent against the deck plates’ pad. The shape charged down the corridor
and almost out of sight before he recognized it.

“Cat?”

How was that possible?

The feline dug in with
his claws, attempting to stop, and flipped fuzzy butt over ears. It struggled
back to its feet
. “Boss?”

It was Cat. His cat,
from the Warren. How could it be here now, on board this ship? And talking to
him? Reality shifted beneath his feet.

Cat had been his only
friend. The only living being who cared about him. Or so he had thought. In
truth, Cat must be a spy for Gray Eyes, one of those damn telepathic spacer’s
cats. He had no idea SpecOps used them for surveillance, but there was no doubt
in his mind now that the creature had led Gray Eyes to his hiding place. How
else had she found him so easily unless Jumper had betrayed him?

Jumper? How did he know
the cat’s name? Easy. Jumper belonged to The Other.

Not a possession, but a
friend.

“You shut up,” Cypher
said.

The cat eased toward
him
. “Boss, please…”

“Get away from me, you
Judas cat.” Cypher threw the tablet at Jumper.

The cat whirled and
raced away.

That animal would bring
Gray Eyes down on him in a matter of minutes. He had to move, but his feet
stuck to the deck. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip, focusing all his willpower
into moving his legs and started walking, but it felt like wading through deep
water. Caught between the force of two wills, his and The Other’s, his body
stumbled like a drunkard.

His onboard
pharmacopeia, sensing his physical distress, flashed a message asking if he
needed medical support. It displayed a menu of stimulants and neuroaccelerants.
Cypher dumped a double dose of everything into his bloodstream, despite the
unit’s warnings. He twitched as the drugs slammed into him, melting away The Other’s
control like ice near a flame. He could move again.

He ran. Getting off
this ship was the most important thing right now. He couldn’t be aboard when
the bomb went off. The explosion wouldn’t be enough to destroy the vessel; just
wreck that conference room and spray those damn darts everywhere. It could
possibly breach that observation port, but the internal pressure door would
quickly seal off the room, so there wasn’t any danger there, but after the
explosion they’d lock down the ship so tight he’d never escape. No, he had to
get off now, whether they were underway or not. And that left only the shuttle
bay. If he tried to use an escape pod, they’d pick him up in a second. He
needed a ride, and a shuttle would get him to the station or back down to the
planet.

As long as he had this
jerk inside his head, he might as well take advantage of his expertise. “You’re
the big Fleet officer. Where’s the shuttle bay?”

No answer.

Cypher hadn’t really expected
any help from that quarter, but they both seemed to have access to the same
shared memory base. The Other knew a ship like this. He could sense the
familiarity, and searched through the information stored in The Other’s mind.
He felt opposition, like pushing through layers of steel wool as his opponent
threw up barriers against his intrusion.

There. He found the
trace of memory and latched onto it, following the thread until he could see a
deck plan of the ship clearly in his mind. Down and back. That made sense. The
shuttle bay would be at the rear of the ship, on the lowest level.

He ran, staying just
below hyperkinetic speed, the stims making his muscles ache with the need to
move faster. He took the stairs in two jumps, down and ever rearward. Gray Eyes
could be right behind him. He paused at the last set of stairs and listened,
heard no pursuit, but went over the rail anyway, dropping the three meters to
the next level. In his haste, he almost passed the entrance to the shuttle bay.

He reached for the
hatch release, but touched the comm pad. He flinched back.

“Go to hell, you
bastard,” he snapped, and pushed his way through the door.

The two techs in the
control room turned toward him, shock on their faces. He back-handed the
closest and spun, driving a foot into the second one’s stomach. The first man
tried to rise, but a series of overhand blows put him down. The other tech came
up, swinging at him with a large spanner. Cypher blurred aside, watching the
man’s eyes widen as he realized he faced an augie. A knee in the gut, then an
elbow to the kidneys put the tool wielder out of the fight.

He gathered up both
limp bodies and stuffed them in an equipment closet, then slid two heavy
storage totes in front of the door. He scanned the control room. A bank of
monitors lined one wall, and a row of glass-fronted lockers holding armored
vacuum suits took up the other. He checked the airlock, assured himself there
was pressure beyond it, and cycled through.

Into an empty landing
bay.

__________

The professional banter
in engineering went silent as Fitz charged through the hatch. Every head turned
in her direction. She panned the Acton around the room, weapon set on high
stun, ready to take down everyone in the room to capture Wolf…Cypher.

He wasn’t here.

She lowered her pistol
and activated her comm. “Hazel, I don’t see him; he must have moved on. Do you
still have a trace on him?”

“He’s there; right in
front of you,” the XO said.

“Where?”

“The intermix station.
First position on the right, just inside the hatch. Can’t miss him.”

Obviously she had. Fitz
leveled the pistol at the first tech to her right, a young woman whose face
turned a startling shade of white. The terrified officer shifted backward until
she blundered into the console, her head twitching from side to side as she
searched for a way to escape.

“That’s not him,” Fitz
said.

“The ID tracker is
showing him right there.”

The woman flinched back
as Fitz reached for her and pulled the ident-card from her pocket. It had been
clipped on backwards, and as she turned it over, she found a familiar face
staring back at her.

“He switched ID’s. Who
are you? What’s your name?”

“Carter, ma’am.
Lieutenant Zoni Carter. It must have been when that wirehead, uh…” She realized
she’d used a slur to describe the agent to another augie. “He, ah… we ran into
each other in the corridor and he knocked me down. But he helped me up.”

“He switched IDs with
Lieutenant Carter. What are you reading for her location?”

“Nothing,” said
Mandisa. “I show she’s not on board the ship. That’s impossible. The computer
shows she logged in at 0800 this morning and hasn’t signed out, but she’s not
here.”

“He’s destroyed the tag
already, probably chunked it down a recycle chute.”

“And he’s loose on my
ship with no way for us to track him.”

“We may not need to. If
he planted a bomb somewhere on board, he’ll want off in a hurry.” Fitz realized
the techs in the compartment now hung on her every word, their eyes growing
larger by the second. She clenched her jaw and backed out of engineering, pushing
Costos behind her.

“Has Lister convinced
Ari to take this thing back to the dock?” Fitz asked the XO.

“Captain declared an
emergency and we’re scooting back at best possible speed.”

“Could he get to a life
pod?” An escape pod could be launched at this speed in an emergency, but only a
desperate person would do so. Or a crazy one. She suspected that, by now,
Cypher was both.

“The Captain keeps the
life pods locked down unless an Abandon Ship order is given. I don’t think he
can get out that way unless he can get through all our security protocols.”

Could he? Cypher still
had access to all of Wolf’s high level clearances. She’d removed them from the
computers in the palace and the headquarters building, but hadn’t wanted to
pull them all out of Arachne, for fear of raising too many red flags with the
wrong people. Like the media suddenly asking why the Triumvir had lost his
security clearances.

“Then he’ll head for
the shuttle bay.”

“Won’t do him any
good,” Mandisa said. “No shuttle. We’ve been using it to run people and
components back and forth to Lister’s refit and repair ship, and we didn’t get
a chance to bring it back aboard before
someone
advanced our schedule by
several hours.”

Fitz smiled at the dig.
That might turn out to be a lucky break. Lister’s voice came over the comm.
“There are two construction pods in the bay. Would he be desperate enough to
try to use one of them? They haven’t been recharging for long, and will have a
very limited range.”

“Our dorsal canon is
online. If he tries that, we’ll just get in some target practice,” the XO said.

“No,” Fitz said a bit
too quickly. “I want him alive.”

“Your call.”

“We’re on our way to
the shuttle bay.”

“Boss Lady, Boss Lady.
I found him.”
Jumper raced down the corridor toward
her.
“He was up on A deck, but I think I can track him.”

“I thought you said you
had trouble picking out Cypher’s mind from a crowd?”

“I was with him for a
while, there in the Warren, remember? I know what he feels like now, and
there’s an awful lot of Wolf trying to fight his way out. And, without all that
stinky stuff on, he still smells the same, so yeah, I can track him. Follow
me.”

The cat led them back
up two levels before picking up the scent. He trotted along, nose to the deck
pads, stopping periodically to sniff the walls or make short detours down a
corridor before turning back.

“Could you pick up the
pace a bit, Jumper?” The adrenaline zinging through Fitz had her on edge,
aching to run faster than the cat’s deliberate speed.

“Look, I’m not a damn
dog, you know. I don’t do this very often.”
Jumper stopped
at the top of a flight of stairs. A sign indicated they lead to D deck and,
according to the schematic loaded to her inhead, that contained only the
shuttle bay and its control room. If that’s where he went, they had him
cornered.