Legion Of The Damned - 06 - For Those Who Fell (30 page)

Vanderveen's previously high spirits plummeted as she realized that the Hudathan was correct. Though suspicious, there was nothing to connect the ships to the bugs other than the fact that the Ramanthians had stolen them. Something was better than nothing, but the thought of taking her evidence to higher authorities, only to have them pick it apart, was more than the diplomat could bear. She was casting about for ideas when the docking facility loomed ahead. It was huge, and the evidence she was looking for could easily be inside. “Does the
Deceiver
have a lifeboat?”

“Two of them,” Doma-Sa confirmed, as the Hudathan looked back over his shoulder. “Why?”

“Because there's lots of traffic,” the human replied, pointing to a screen on which a multiplicity of vessels were being tracked. “Something small, like a lifeboat, might be able to get in closer than the
Deceiver
can. If we could capture video of a Ramanthian ship near the docking facility, or f
ind some other connection, it would make all the difference when we present our report to the Senate.”

Doma-Sa understood the need even better than Vanderveen did—and was busy considering the diplomat's idea when a tech interrupted his thoughts. “The Thrakies are onto us! I had a visual on a ship that doesn't register on our sensors! It's following about fifty units astern.”

Doma-Sa hit the release on his harness and stood. “Ms. Vanderveen and I will take one of the lifeboats. Break orbit
the moment we depart. Lead the Thraki ship into space. You can return for us later.”

The plan had flaws,
lots
of them, not the least of which was allowing the Hudathan ruler to take off on a mission fit for a junior officer. The ship's CO was about to say as much when a warning tone sounded and a ship-to-ship missile exploded against the
Deceiver
's shields. The warship shook like a thing possessed. “Come on!” Doma-Sa yelled as he lurched aft. “Let's go!”

Vanderveen released her harness, came to her feet, and followed as the Hudathan thundered down the main corridor toward the launch bay. “They'll need a pilot!” the stealth ship's commanding officer shouted, gesturing to his second officer. “Go!”

By the time Doma-Sa and Vanderveen entered the bay, the pilot had caught up with the unlikely pair and waved them forward. “The number two boat is best! Follow me!”

The deck tilted as the
Deceiver
took evasive action, shuddered as a quick flurry of energy bolts pounded the protective energy shields, and jerked as the vessel fired in self-defense. Servos whined as the lifeboat's main hatch closed, the single in-system drive came on, and the pilot spoke into his mike. “We're ready to launch.”

Cognizant of the fact that he would not only have to open the launch bay door, but drop the ship's shield in order to launch the lifeboat, the commanding officer winced. But there was nothing he could do except give the necessary order, cut power to the energy field, and hope for the best.

The lifeboat was gone in the twinkling of an eye, and the launch bay door had already started to close, when a Thraki torpedo shot through the opening, hit the port bulkhead, and exploded. An orange-red flower bloomed, lived its short life, and was forever snuffed from existence. The
Deceiver
and her crew were gone.

Doma-Sa swore bitterly as the tiny ship darted away from the explosion and started to close with the free-floating dock. Warning lights strobed, di
rectional signs flashed, and nav lights blinked as the Hudathan lifeboat weaved its way through the heavy traffic to close with the facility ahead. “Look!” Vanderveen said, pointing up at the main screen. “They have a Sheen ship in the dock.”

The Hudathan head of state saw that the human was correct—and saw something else as well. “Do you see the one-person sleds? The ones shaped like cylinders? Aren't those bugs riding them?”

Vanderveen looked and saw that Doma-Sa was correct. Ramanthian space armor was just as distinctive as were the aliens themselves. “Yes! Could we capture one of them? That would give us the proof we need.”

The pilot swore silently as he conned the tiny ship between the enormous blast doors and into the dock's brightly lit interior. His name was Reem Boka-Ka, and he wasn't sure which passenger was worse, the little alien with the high voice or the hulking triad in the copilot's seat. “You heard the human,” Doma-Sa said in Hudathan. “We need to capture one of those bugs.”

The word was out by then, and not only were all of the utility craft scuttling for cover, the Ramanthians were trying to clear the area as well. “Damn!” the pilot said, as two lines of energy bolts stuttered over the top of the hull. “We have a fighter on our tail!”

“Ignore him,” Doma-Sa ordered grimly. “Go after one of those sleds . . . I'll spear the bastard with a tractor beam. Once we have him, you can make a run for it.”

Boka-Ka was going to die, he knew that now, and accepted it. He chose one of the targets, jinked to throw his pursuer off, and bored in. His quarry was crossing the pilot's field of vision from left to right and moving rather slowly.

Ipra Tychno was one of more than fifty technical experts
sent to monitor the conversion process, and because he had accidentally turned his com set off, he hadn't heard the warnings broadcast by traffic control.

Therefore, it wasn't until the Hudathan lifeboat was already closing in on him, and a burst of Thraki cannon fire whipped past his head, that the Ramanthian realized that something unusual was taking place. He opened the throttle on his sled and felt it surge forward, but the effort came too late. A pair of invisible arms reached out to grab on to the engineer's sled and pull it in.

The tractor beams were normally used to moor the lifeboat to larger ships, or to manipulate small objects, but it took skill to operate two opposing joysticks and Doma-Sa made a mistake. One of the beams slipped off, Tychno fell free, and was quick to take advantage of the fact. Thrilled by his miraculous escape,
and planning to take cover among the maze of installations that covered the Sheen ship's hull, the Ramanthian steered the sled in that direction. “I lost him!” Doma-Sa shouted. “Get the bastard!”

The Thraki fighter was so close that Boka-Ka felt he had no choice but to ignore the order, pull up, and roll in behind his pursuer. Human lifeboats weren't armed, but the Hudathan equivalents were, and the small craft had a pair of forward-firing energy cannons. They burped coherent light, the fighter took a bolt up its tailpipe, and blew up. The lifeboat's shields flared as it passed through the debris field and shot out the other side.

Doma-Sa could be quite unreasonable at times and slammed a massive fist onto the console. “Quit showing off! Are you deaf? I want the bug!”

Boka-Ka didn't have time to reply. He put the ship into a tight turn, reacquired the target, and applied more power. Doma-Sa spotted the still-fleeing Ramanthian, grabbed him for a second time, and wrapped the sled in an unbreakable hug. “All right! I've got him! Let's get out of here!”

The pilot didn't need to be told twice. He put the lifeboat into a sweeping turn, headed back toward the enormous blast doors, and saw that they had started to close. The Thrakies were trying to lock the invading ship inside the dock! Boka-Ka opened the throttle all the way, bit his lower lip, and tried to gauge his chances. Would the lifeboat slip through? Or slam into solid durasteel? It was too close to call.

Vanderveen watched the slit narrow to what looked like a vertical crack. The human grabbed hold of the huge armrests and closed her eyes. There was a moment of silence followed by a grunt of acknowledgment from Doma-Sa and some rare words of praise. “Not bad.”

The human opened her eyes as the lifeboat sailed through a sixty-foot-wide gap, realized that they were through, and heaved a sigh of relief. They were alive!

Tychno, who had witnessed the entire sequence from outside the hull, legs still clamped around the cylindrical sled, discovered that he had soiled the inside of his space armor. The stench was incredible.

But the wild ride wasn't over. The lifeboat was equipped with a hyperdrive, but it would be necessary to escape Erini IV's gravity well before the fugitives could use it, and there were dozens of Thraki vessels in the way. Fortunately, most of them couldn't open fire without running the risk of hitting each other. Boka-Ka took advantage of that fact for as long as he could before shooting out into space with three fighters on his tail. Then, the moment the lifeb
oat was clear of the planet's gravitational influence, he stabbed a button. The fighter pilots saw the Hudathan vessel shimmer and vanish even as their missiles flew through the space it had occupied only moments before.

That much was good—but what about the Ramanthian clamped to the outside surface of the hull? Would he be able to survive within the protective force field that surrounded the lifeboat? Or would the strange environment of hyperspace
scramble his organs like a breakfast omelet? There was no way to know. But one thing was for sure, no matter which way it went, the entire effort was riding on the alien's fate. Because if they lost their prisoner and came out of hyperspace empty-handed, there would be no way to prove an alliance between the Thrakies and Ramanthians. The weight of t
hat knowledge rode Vanderveen's shoulders like a mantle of lead.

Six inches of well-churned brown muck covered the road that led between the snow-encrusted domes of Naa Town, up through the strictly maintained free-fire zone, and through the gates of Fort Camerone. The slushy material geysered up around the dooth's plate-sized hooves as the animal plodded up the incline and grunted to communicate how it felt. Conscious of the fact that alien eyes were upon him, Nodoubt Truespeak sat tall in the saddle, eyed the ramparts above, and saw pockmarks where Naa bullets had struck them.

Thousands of Naa had lost their lives trying to conquer the fortress that rose above him, even while thousands more had become part of the very organization that built it and gone off to fight on distant worlds. Only to be treated as second-class citizens by those they fought for.
But not anymore,
the chieftain thought to himself as a sentry uttered a challenge.
Not if I can help it
.

But there was a problem, a
big
problem, because even though the humans seemed willing to accept their former “protectorate” as an equal, other races feared that were the Naa allowed to have their own seat in the Senate, they would vote in concert with their sponsors, even though the entire notion was patently absurd.

Strangely, from his perspective at least, Truespeak had other opponents to worry about as well, including the self-styled true bloods who opposed any sort of congress with
the off-worlders and wanted a return to the isolation of the past.

Truespeak dismounted, allowed a human legionnaire to scan him for weapons, and wondered if full-fledged senators were subject to the same indignity. Then, once his companions were back in their saddles, the chi
eftain led them up to a pair of much-abused durasteel gates. They parted to allow a pair of Trooper IIs to exit, remained open long enough for the Naa to enter, and clanged as they closed.

Lieutenant Thinklong had been detailed to meet the dignitaries and was waiting when Truespeak and his advisors entered the main courtyard. He caught hold of the first dooth's bridle and waited for the chieftain to jump to the ground. “Welcome to Fort Camerone, sir.”

“Thank you,” Truespeak replied darkly. “I'm happy to report that we didn't have to shoot anyone in order to gain entry.”

Thinklong was from another tribe, but was familiar with the other Naa's reputation for straight talk and grinned sympathetically. “I'm sure the Legion is happy about that as well, sir. Private Oki will take care of your mounts. If you and your advisors would be so kind as to follow me, I'll escort you to the Senate's chambers. They're running a bit late, but that's typical, I'm afraid, so it may be necessary to wait for a few minutes.”

The Naa allowed themselves to be led into the inner part of the fortress and through a labyrinth of bustling corridors. The walls were confining, like the depths of a cave, or the stomach of some enormous beast. There were strange smells, many of which made Truespeak feel nauseous, and low ceilings that caused him to yearn for the open sky. The only pleasure the Naa felt stemmed from the fact that his leg had healed so well that he could walk without the aid of a cane and thereby avoid any appearance of weakness. Not that
passersby turned to look at him because there were so many of h
is kind in the legion that the presence of a small group of civilians wasn't considered to be noteworthy.

Finally, after numerous twists and turns, Thinklong led his guests into what had become the Senate's chambers and invited them to seat themselves toward the rear, while the senators continued to debate the merits of two competing tax proposals. Wars cost money, lots of it, and it had to come from somewhere.

Truespeak listened intently, trying to understand the nature of the discussion, but was soon lost in a blizzard of highly specialized terminology. He wondered how long it would take to absorb the knowledge necessary to understand what the senators were talking about and feared that the complexity of the whole thing might be beyond him. But younger more flexible minds were available, and if given a chance, could surely master the intricacies of interstellar economics. Individuals like Lieutenant Thinklong were evidence of that—and the knowledge gave him comfort.