Gabriel's Redemption (20 page)

“Sorry about that,” Sowers called from across the room. “We brought your sentries in, they’re back in their residences, doing fine. Just a couple broken bones. And,” he lowered his voice. “Sorry again about the Poli.” Zack nodded back to him in acknowledgement.

Gabriel reached into a hip pouch on his armor and pulled out a Heckart mag pistol, handing it to Zack. “Take this,” he said, and had his neuretics send a master code to the weapon to allow him to use it. Zack took it from him, holding it lightly and unsurely. It vibrated in his hand at receiving the code, and he nearly dropped it.

“Cripes,” Gabriel said. “You used to use dad’s hunting rifle way back when, right?”

Zack gripped the gun more firmly. “Of course. I’m just, ah, not used to handguns.”

Gabriel frowned, considering whether to take the gun back, then decided to let him at least have a sense of security. Even a false one, a placebo, may help his confidence, and who knows what type of situation they were heading into.
Probably a little more dangerous than facing their father after wrecking his Corvette,
he thought.

“I’m staying too,” said Vanheel, who had walked up to the two of them. “I’ll help gather the Polis and get our techs into the housing areas, but I’m coming back here when we’re done.” He raised himself on the balls of his feet, not quite coming up to Zack’s height, and still several inches below Gabriel’s. “I need to be here,” he said with a pained look on his face. “I…I helped build this from scratch, with my bare hands.”

Gabriel sighed. “Fine, but you stay with my ensign near the Utilities entry. Ensign Lamber,” he said. “Please provide this man with a sidearm. And,” he added, “keep an eye on him.”

Lamber pulled out a semi-automatic handgun and handed it to Vanheel as he approached.

Gabriel turned to the team, who was waiting expectantly around the holotable. “Okay, people, we’ve got some work to do. Let’s get the civvies to safety and get ready to receive our visitors. Remember,” he said, looking intently at each face in turn. “We need information from them, but
not
at the cost of
any
life. Clear?”

He looked around the circle of soldiers, and saw determination in every eye, every look, every grim smile. He’d only known them for five days, but they were good, and with very few exceptions, he trusted them.
Then again
, he thought,
I really have no choice but to trust them.

“Let’s move.”

Chapter 23

“Ah, Mister Santander,” the heavily accented voice spoke over the ship’s intercom.
 

Santander opened one eye, staring at the overhead mounted speaker above his bunk. Muttering softly, he opened his other eye and rolled his legs off the stiff mattress and onto the uncarpeted floor. For not the first time on this flight, he cursed MacFarland for not sending him and his team on a more refined vessel.
Hell
, Santander thought,
he had been on some ore carriers with better accommodations.

Reaching to the shelf welded to the bulkhead near his cot, he picked up the remnants of last evening’s cigar. He wiped some dust off the business end, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it with flick of a match along the edge of the shelf. Puffing it to life, he blew a few clouds of smoke into the dank cabin air, trying in vain to overpower the stale greasy smell that seeped from every corner of the dilapidated ship.

“Yes, Captain Yao,” he said disdainfully as he straightened his tunic, attempting to smooth the wrinkles it had accumulated during his brief nap.

“Mister Santander, we prepare turn over now. You and team enter shuttle, yes?”

Shuttle, he thought with an inner laugh. Not quite what he had imagined when first hearing the term applied to the dingy vehicle with torn fabric couches, tattered seat belts, and lack of wallscreens. He rose from his seated position and stretched his arms over his head, banging his knuckles into the metal ceiling with another curse.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there in five minutes.” He clamped his teeth around the cigar and did a quick neuretics scan of the ship. His internal heads-up showed the blue dots indicating his team all headed for the docking bay. He stubbed out the cigar on the shelf, barely conscious of the black stain it created, and tossed it towards the plastic wastebasket in the corner. It thudded off the side and tumbled to the floor in a dusting of burnt tobacco leaves.
 

With one last glance at the cabin he hoped to not see again for a long time, he walked through the hatch and made his way aft.

He reached the shuttle hatch just as Ran arrived, the others already in the tiny cabin and seated.
 

“Hello, Q, good nap?” Ran asked.

Santander grunted. “Sooner I get off this bucket of bolts, the better. If all goes according to plan, we can ride home in style.”

Ran smiled as the two of them entered the cabin and took their seats. The door swung shut behind them. “Are we all set on the ground?”

Santander lowered his voice and leaned in towards Ran, who had sat on his right, while Rheaves snored away on his left. “Everything’s in place, Dredge assures me. My life’s in his hands - if his people don’t come through on time, on target, this could get very messy, but he hasn’t let me down yet.”

Ran’s smile faded a bit. “Understood.” He looked over his shoulder to the two rows of seats behind him, where the other three team members sat. “I’m a bit concerned with the numbers. With the size of the team we’re facing, I’d rather go in with a larger advantage.”

“No worries, old friend,” Santander replied. “Those numbers will shift momentarily.” With that he closed his eyes and leaned back into the creaky plastic couch back, signaling the end of that conversation.

Ran cinched his seat belt tighter, the ancient threads stretching and tearing. He closed his eyes as well, and Rheaves’s loud snoring became a metronome as he prepared for the gravity to kick in.

“Okay, that’s it,” Gabriel said. “The signal from the microsats shows the Chinese ship flipped and should be lighting their engines for decel. We’ve got about 40 minutes before they come out of sensor blackout, so move to your positions.”
 

The team was assembled in the Operations center, going over last minute preparations. At Gabriel’s announcement, the techs manning the workstations rose almost as one, grabbing coffee mugs, flexscreens, and various personal items, and headed for the door leading to the stairs. Sabra and St. Laurent picked up their Burton cases and headed for the main door, followed closely by Brevik hauling his massive cannon, external batteries and ammo boxes. Behind Brevik was Jimenez with his electronics gear bag.

“Ensign Takahashi,” Gabriel called over the team comm net.

“Here, sir,” the ensign’s voice came back. “We’re all set. The doc’s armed and ready. Matter of fact I think he’s looking forward to a little action.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Just like an Army grunt. Are the natives, er, Polis taken care of?” he asked.

“All of the onsite ones have been moved to the temporary housing areas behind the labs, and we’ve blocked access. Our door is electronically sealed and we’re in protected positions behind it. Anyone trying to come through this way will be in for a nasty surprise. It won’t just be teddy bears waiting for them.”

“Excellent. Keep your heads down, gentlemen,” Gabriel replied.

The door to the corridor opened and allowed the four others to exit. Once the doors closed behind them, Sowers moved to one side and settled in to wait out the next few minutes. Apparently, Gabriel noted, Sowers was the one who had pilfered Brevik’s harmonica on the flight in, and he was now trying to teach himself how to play it. The odd high-pitched wheezing was only slightly disconcerting, so Gabriel let it go.

Zack and Vanheel stayed at the center platform, Vanheel nervously fiddling with the probe Jimenez had left. Gabriel saw that his brother had put the Heckart pistol down on the far end of the table, almost distancing himself from it. A flash of emotion flared inside him, fleeting memories of his childhood, an image of his older brother pummeling a bully that had been picking on him. An older brother, deep down, stood up for a younger one, no matter what.
Now
, Gabriel thought,
I’m standing up for him.
He only hoped he could live up to it.

A buzz in his head signaled an incoming neuretics comm. The ID indicated a secure link from the
Marcinko
, and he opened the call in Mindseye.

“Commander Gabriel, we’re getting an odd reading from the Chinese ship,” Captain McTiernan’s voice said. “We’re showing it has not,
repeat
not
, engaged its engines, and is coasting on a high velocity flyby path. Our CIC analysts are saying they’re going to blow past the planet without attempt to orbit, and either hot launch a shuttle, or…” He paused. “How sure are you they’re not going to drop kinetic bombardment weapons?”

Gabriel visibly started. “Sir, everything okay?” Sowers said, his harmonica practice ceasing abruptly.

He held up his hand to Sowers. “Hang on,” he said. Into the neuretics comm he replied subvocally. “Not as sure as I was a few hours ago. Captain, give me odds. Do I need to get everyone out of here, or hunker down for an early arrival?”

McTiernan’s voice was less firm than Gabriel had hoped. “I just can’t say at this point. We’ll know in about three minutes, as that’s when they’ll be at closest approach.” After a long delay, he continued, “We’re too far away to intercept. Honestly Commander, we never expected this.”

“Not your fault, Captain,” Gabriel replied. “It’s more on me. Keep a close eye on it, let me know as soon as you get any indication of their intentions. We’ll play it by ear.”

To Sowers, he said, “Mister Sowers, lose the music. We may have early company.”

Lamber stirred at the far end of the center, while Zack and Vanheel were looking over at Gabriel. An open broadcast came in over the team net from the
Marcinko
.
 

“Commander Gabriel, we’ve just detected the Chinese ship hot-launching a shuttle,” said an excited voice that Gabriel remembered as Ensign Giroux, the
Marcinko’s
comm officer. “Very risky, but they’re coming in fast towards your position, and that cargo ship will be screaming right past you. At this point we do not anticipate a bombardment run.”

“Thank you, Ensign,” Gabriel replied on the net. “Give me an ETA on the shuttle.”

After a few seconds, Giroux came back, “Sir, our best estimate based on trajectory is that the shuttle will touch down close to the colony in about twelve minutes. They are
hauling ass
. Er, sorry sir. But they are most certainly looking to catch you off guard.”

Gabriel pressed his lips together.
We’re not not off guard
, he thought,
but a little behind in deployment.
So much for being ready.
 

He turned to Sowers and was about to speak when an unbearable pain shot through his skull, and his neuretics went completely offline. The shock knocked him to one knee, and he pressed his hands to the sides of his head with extreme difficulty as his combat armor began to lock up. Just before he squeezed his eyes shut, he caught sight of Sowers in the same position, and a tiny part of his mind knew what was happening.

St. Laurent had just reached the main doors leading to the outer corridor, Sabra next to her, Jimenez just behind them with his gear, and Brevik setting up his plasma cannon on the far side of the hub, when the neurojammer hit. St. Laurent dropped to both knees in pain and the Burton’s case clattered to the metal decking next to her.
 
Brain screaming in agony, she felt more than heard Jimenez fall to the floor behind her. The pain was excruciating; it felt as if her head was going to tear itself apart.
 

Seconds ticked by like weeks, electric pain lancing through her skull, until mercifully it ceased. She toppled over onto all fours and tasted blood where she had bitten through the tip of her tongue. She spat and attempted to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, but the combat armor wasn’t responding to her physical commands. Her nerves tingled and muscles spasmed as she tried to tilt her head back. She opened her eyes, and found herself looking into the menacing barrel of a Taegel 32 needler pistol. Her eyes inched up over the barrel and saw the sneering face of Mikaela Sabra.

Gabriel groaned in agony as the neurojammer pulsed through his nervous system. Flashing symbols in his faltering Mindseye alerted him to failing systems, communications, and armor control. He was still on one knee, both fists pressed to the floor, armor frozen. He attempted to hack through the jammer with his upgraded neuretics, and he had just been able to link to a flatlined weapons control when the jammer ceased.

With a gasp he immediately ran weapons and system checks. All offline; the jammer had burned out a good portion of the suit’s systems.
 

Sowers in front of him had also just come out of the grips of the jammer, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He grimaced at Gabriel, his armor still locked. “Holy shit,” he grunted. “Sir.”

Gabriel’s enhanced combat muscles pushed at the armor, overpowering the servo lock to some extent, allowing him to stand upright. With a great effort, he turned around to the three men behind him. To his shock, he saw Lamber striding towards him, a mag pistol in one hand, a look of white hot fury on his face.

“Lamber, what the…” Gabriel roared. Before he could finish his curse, Lamber was upon him, slamming him into the bulkhead wall next to Sowers with a loud clang. In the disabled armor, Gabriel couldn’t withstand the charge of the smaller man, and crumpled into a seated position. He pushed to get back up.

“Sit the hell down!” Lamber yelled, spittle flying from his mouth. The gun was pointed at Gabriel’s head.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gabriel said, continuing to try to rise.

Lamber moved the pistol to point at the immobile Sowers’s head. “Not worried about yourself, Commander?” He bent and pressed the barrel of the pistol into Sowers’s forehead. “Sit down, and shut up!” he yelled again.