Linesman (37 page)

JORDAN ROSSI

ORSAYA'S COMMS BEEPED.
She flicked it on.

Rossi heard the tight vowels of a Yaolin accent. She switched her line to private and listened, frowning. Halfway through, she started moving her free hand in intricate patterns, twitching as if she couldn't keep still. The second time she did it, Rossi realized her soldiers were watching intently. If he were Ean Lambert, he could probably listen in and hear what secret message they were getting.

Lambert looked as if his world had fallen apart around him. And the lines—no, Rossi was imagining the lines reacting to that.

“I hear you,” Orsaya said finally, and as she clicked off, beckoned to Lambert. “Get that ship for me. Now.”

“I can't—”

Orsaya's comms buzzed again. She answered it on silent, nodded once. “I hear you,” again.

This time she inclined her head toward Auburn. “Get Lambert away. I'll meet you at the shuttles. Take Rossi with you.”

While they were busy pandering to Lambert, Rossi could work out how to take control of the line that was rightfully his. First, he had to get away.

Two soldiers came at him from behind, dragging him forward and toward Auburn, who'd grabbed Lambert. He struggled.

They made it to the door.

Only to be stopped by Markan and two teams of armed soldiers, weapons raised ready to fire.

Auburn stepped back. One step, two.

“Admiral Orsaya,” Markan said. “Gate Union has had a change of government. Confluence Station is under my command.”

Orsaya blew out her breath in a mannerism that reminded Rossi of Wendell. “You're a fool, Markan. You are dancing to strings pulled by Redmond and Sandhurst and ex-Alliance worlds like Aquacaelum. You start a war we don't even know we can win. In less than a year, worlds like Roscracia and Yaolin will be secondary citizens in a union we helped to start.”

“Yaolin maybe,” Markan said. “Not Roscracia. We will lead Gate Union, for we control the lines.” He glanced out the Plexiglas of the viewing station, where the
Eleven
and its fleet of ships hung in the dark space. “And once we have that ship out there, along with our own alien ship, the Alliance is finished, too.”

Orsaya's people were outnumbered two to one. Rossi hoped she would go quietly. He eased toward one side of the room, trying not to draw attention to himself. One of Markan's soldiers raised her weapon.

He stopped.

Orsaya's comms beeped. She raised her arm, then looked questioningly at Markan.

“Go ahead,” Markan said.

It was Captain MacIntyre. “I have just heard from headquarters, ma'am. Admiral Markan is now in charge at Confluence Station.” He sounded apologetic. “I will be following Markan's orders, ma'am.”

“You're a fool,” Orsaya said to Markan again.

Rossi refused to admit he agreed with her.

Gann burst into the room. “You need to get that ship now. They've had the coup at—” He stopped when he saw the guards.

“Ahmed Gann,” Markan said. “Who would have guessed,” but he didn't look surprised. He glanced away, across to Ean, then to Rossi. “Kill the linesmen,” he told the soldier who had raised her weapon before. “Both of them.”

For a moment, Rossi thought he'd misheard, but the soldier tightened her finger on the trigger.

And jerked back, spraying the beam across the ceiling as Orsaya's blaster hit her.

Orsaya's people picked off Markan's soldiers in a long, sustained sweep of fire. They had to have started firing almost before Markan spoke.

“Out, out,” Auburn yelled, and the Yaolins raced toward the door, the two linesmen and Ahmed Gann shielded in the middle of them.

Beside him, Rossi heard Lambert's voice raised in song and felt it on every single one of his ten lines. Stupid bastard. What a time to try to talk to the lines.

Then he realized what Lambert was doing.

He was singing the alarms open.

Every alarm on station went off. Minor alarms, like servicing warnings, right up to the major ones—hull breach, asteroid proximity, life-support failure, and engine meltdown.

It was a clever move. On a ship or space station, there was only one thing to do when a major alarm went off. Get to the nearest emergency station and suit up.

Orsaya's guards were out the door while Markan's remaining people were still reacting.

EAN LAMBERT

THE STATION WAS
full of noise, the lines were full of noise. Ean couldn't sing and run at the same time. He tripped once, and Jordan Rossi dragged him up.

“Don't stop,” Rossi gasped, when Orsaya would have stopped at the nearest set of emergency suits. “Not a problem. Bastard's doing it.”

Ean didn't need Rossi's rescuing him, and he didn't need Orsaya, either, but Rossi's grip was like steel. He kept running. At least Orsaya wanted him alive, and it was obvious the Roscracians didn't.

Ean was going to learn to sing while he ran. As it was, all he could do was listen.

Through line five he heard orders go out from six Gate Union ships.

“Weapons, armed.”

“Prepare to fire.”

A platoon of Roscracian soldiers rounded the corridor in front of them. Ean turned to run the other way, found himself grabbed by Orsaya and forced to continue the way they were going.

He heard Captain Wendell leaning on the lines, keeping them open. “For God's sake don't fire on the Alliance ships. You don't know what the
Eleven
can do. And if you do fire, have a jump ready.”

At least Captain Wendell understood.

Two of Orsaya's people fired on the approaching Roscracians. Only two? A white, reflective sheet billowed out in front of them. The sheet heated, but none of the blasters came through. Orsaya's soldiers turned into a doorway under the cover of it. They sealed the door behind them.

Through the lines—from MacIntyre's ship—a single voice said, “Fire.”

A burst of noise from the
Lancastrian Princess
knocked Ean against the wall. They had fired on the
Lancastrian Princess
.

Rossi hauled him upright. “I should leave you for Markan to kill.”

They escaped out into another corridor and continued running.

Through line five, Captain Helmo said, “Return fire.” Then, “Sections. Report,” and the reports started coming in. “Hull breached, sector 11. Contained. Hull breached sector 12. Contained. Sector 6. Fine.”

He slowed down to sing. Why didn't Abram jump? He could take the Alliance ships somewhere safe?

“Keep moving.” Auburn prodded him from behind. “We've only a small window before they lock the whole ship down on us.” She pushed them both against the wall and fired back the way they had come. “Or we get killed.” A blaster beam sizzled past close enough to feel the heat.

“They have to stop firing on the ship.” Ean tried to stop again, to sing. Rossi grabbed his arm and dragged him.

They turned another corner. A door at the far end opened.

The lead soldier tossed a small disk down the passage. It rolled to the end and stopped as a team of Roscracians poured through the door. Ean didn't see what happened because Orsaya's team turned into a passage halfway along. No one followed them.

Orsaya's people knew where they were going. They must
have had this route planned out long before they'd arrived on station. How long had Orsaya known she would need this?

He stopped halfway along the passage, gasping for breath.

The soldier behind them walked on his heels. “Keep going, or we'll be trapped in here. If that happens, they'll pick us off like target practice.”

Rossi shoved him forward.

The lights went out as the doors at either end of the passage clicked shut. After a few seconds, Ean's eyes adjusted to the dim emergency lighting.

Admiral Markan had locked down the station.

Despite Rossi's pushing him from behind, despite the guard in front pulling him, Ean couldn't move. He leaned against the wall and dragged in lungfuls of air.

Another Gate Union ship fired on the
Lancastrian Princess
. Ean rocked under the blow.

Abram should have listened to him. If he had, right now he would be inside that protective field.

“We've two minutes if we're lucky,” the guard behind Rossi said.

Rossi shoved Ean hard. “Unlock the doors, bastard.”

How did Rossi know Ean could unlock the doors?

“Galenos is bluffing, Wendell,” Markan said through line five.

“He doesn't need to bluff. All he needs to do is turn that device on. And remember, we can jump, but you're on station. You can't.”

The station
could
jump. It had ten lines, even if they were atrophying. If Ean could force the
Eleven
to fire a pulse, everyone would jump to their designated spaces, and Ean could sing the station into the
Eleven
's fleet.

Another blast rocked the
Lancastrian Princess
.

Rossi shoved him again. “Doors.”

“You could open them yourself.” He was a ten, too. Ean had no breath, wasn't sure Rossi even understood him.

Rossi slammed him back against the wall and closed a fist around his throat. He had strong hands. “Open the doors, or you'll never sing again.”

Orsaya was too far away to save him. Ean held up his hands, then indicated that he needed some voice.

Through the lines, the
Lancastrian Princess
was doing another damage report. “Hull breached, sector 5. Contained.”

Rossi loosened his grip. Slightly.

Ean sang the doors open just as Admiral Markan's voice came through the loudspeaker. And the lines. “This is Admiral Markan to the rebel soldiers. Surrender now, and you will be treated leniently.”

“Rebels,” muttered the soldier behind Rossi. “This was our op. He takes it over and calls
us
the rebels.”

Despite the doors being open now, they didn't move. Ean, in the middle of the group, couldn't see what was going on at the front, but he could see flashes of light, and the cooked-flesh smell was strong again.

The
MacIntyre
fired on the
Lancastrian Princess
, which moved behind the
Wendell
.

“Six twenty,” Wendell said through the comms to MacIntyre, and the
Wendell
moved one way while the
MacIntyre
went the other, firing as it did.

Ean had to get those comms to Abram and Helmo.

“Go, go,” Orsaya yelled then, and they ran out into another scene of carnage. Did anyone ever get used to dead bodies?

Someone pushed him down from behind.

A crackle of lightning passed above his head. Finally, someone was using a Taser.

A soldier behind Ean turned the Taser-firer's face into charcoal. She hauled him up. “You are not worth all of this.”

Through the lines, Wendell was talking to Captain MacIntyre about the
Wendell
. “Galenos has destroyed the weapons boards.”

Abram had ordered all the weapons taken out as well. Wendell didn't mention that. He'd probably brought along replacements.

Orsaya's people shot anyone in their path.

Through the comms, Markan was preparing for sustained fire on the
Lancastrian Princess
.

“
Burnley
,
Xavier
,
MacIntyre
,
Rasjeet
. Combined ten-second pulses in a 7-4-3 sequence. I want that ship so hot, it melts.”

Ean forced enough breath into his lungs to sing Markan's line open to the
Lancastrian Princess
. As the words came through, he saw Abram and Michelle jerk around to stare at the comms.

Michelle smiled.

“They'll move behind the
Wendell
again as soon as we start firing,” Captain MacIntyre said. “
Xavier
and I won't be in a position—”

“Captains, the Alliance has claimed the
Wendell
as its own. Fire on my count. One.”

Helmo was already moving his ship.

Why didn't they jump?

“Move,” a soldier told Ean. It seemed the only word they knew.

A platoon of Markan's soldiers disgorged from a lift at the end of the corridor. Orsaya's people turned into another side corridor.

This part of the station was old. It reminded Ean of the secondary yards at Ashery. The walls were scuffed and the markings faded. The two people they saw wore maintenance overalls or civilian clothes.

In front of them was a blank wall. No doors; no lift. Ean hesitated, but was carried forward in the rush as Markan's people rounded the corridor behind them.

He stepped into empty space.

•   •   •

WHEN
Radko had first shown Ean around the
Lancastrian Princess
, she had pointed out the jumps and told him that most soldiers used them in preference to the lifts. It was the first and last time Ean had seen them. He'd forgotten they existed.

Until now.

He watched the floor numbers fly past with horrifying speed—11, 10, 9. He hadn't realized there were so many floors on Confluence Station.

Around level 6, he started to slow down. The time between levels 5 and 4 was longer than that of 6 and 5, and the time between 4 and 3 longer still.

Through the station lines, an aide reported to Markan. “Orsaya's going down to the old shuttle bays.”

“We've got that covered. Get someone down there and arrest them all.”

Through the ship lines, MacIntyre was warning Wendell to jump, “Just get the hell out of here.”

Ean had slowed down so much that between level 2 and level 1, he had time to read the huge warning stenciled onto the wall.

EXIT IMMEDIATELY
.

He planned to.

“Bend your knees for landing,” Orsaya said.

How had he caught up with her?

He dutifully bent his knees but still hit hard.

He forgot all about exiting immediately.

Something else Radko had to teach him when he got back. If he survived to get back.

Rossi and Orsaya grabbed an arm each and dragged him out.

“Markan knows you're coming,” Ean gasped as he ran. “He says he has it covered.”

Orsaya called behind, “We're expected, people.” She didn't ask how he knew.

They stopped at last at a dilapidated shuttle bay that looked as if it wasn't even used anymore.

“Thank God,” Ahmed Gann said as he waited, gasping, beside Ean. “I can't run any farther.”

Ean couldn't either, but it was reassuring to see someone who was as unfit as he was.

“In here?” Orsaya asked Ean.

He shrugged. He wasn't sure.

Orsaya looked at her soldiers, who nodded, then waited.

“There are people following us,” Gann pointed out.

Orsaya held up a hand for silence. She waited until their pursuers came thundering around the top of the passage—which wasn't that long, but it felt as long as going through the void—before she keyed in the door code.

They waited agonizing seconds for the triple locks to open the door.

Through the lines, Ean could hear preparations for departure.

Helmo, and whoever was in charge of Gruen's ship,
calling in the line nines. Abram calling the media ships, telling them to get ready to jump.

They wouldn't make it in time. Why had they left it so long?

Markan had new orders for Captains MacIntyre and Xavier. “Coordinates 174-189-262. I want both of you firing on any shuttle that exits.”

Ean started to sing, an open message to all the lines. He was here, and they should jump together. They should jump now.

The attacking soldiers kept up their relentless run.

The air lock finally opened.

They came face-to-face with guards in Roscracian uniform. All of them holding blasters.

Orsaya's people dived for the floor. Guards dragged Ean down as the lines responded, and jumped.

Ean expanded his song to include the lines he'd recognized earlier as those of the station. The lines of the station answered and stayed with them.

In the forever of the void, Ean had plenty of time to wonder if he was dead yet, for surely the Roscracians would have killed them by now. He also had time to check each of the lines and ensure they were all right. Even the new ones.

“Station lines?”
and the lines sang a yes.

The second line eleven was stronger here. Ean stretched his song to pull that in, too.

It tried to come. It couldn't.

Even its song was muted. Lost.

Ean strengthened the sound, but it still wasn't enough.

Line nine on the new eleven-line ship was a tiny thread, barely there. More badly damaged even than the
Lancastrian Princess
's six had been after Rebekah had tried to destroy it.

Nine was the line that moved a ship in and out of the void. No wonder the ship was stuck.

He tried to fix it. Couldn't.

He widened his song, searching for anything that could help.

He found it. Dozens of new lines from the linesmen who'd been on Confluence Station for the last six months.
All the way up from one to ten, strongest at the higher levels. Ean took every line he could and sang and sang. Gently at first, using the lines the others gave him to strengthen the tiny thread of sound, knitting it back together until the nine at last had enough sound of its own to take what the others offered.