Sertian Princess (8 page)

Frank came over and stood by him.

"The Chief reports that the aft passageway is now clear, sir."

"Thank you, Frank.  Sound Action Stations again."

This time as the alarm bells sounded, it seemed to Mikael that the sounds of confusion reaching the bridge were less than before and he was not, therefore, surprised by Frank's report.

"Ship cleared for action, sir:  2 minutes 48 seconds."

"That's much better, Frank.  You may pass the word to the men.  Now let's try out those new lasers.  Have we got a target ready to put out?"

"Yes sir.  Main torpedo room has one ready for your command."

"Very good.  Drop the target and come about.  We'll begin the first approach run from 10,000 kilometres."

"Aye aye, sir."

As Frank began issuing the necessary orders, Mikael turned to the Navigation Officer.

"How long before the next jump, Peter?"

"We'll have the power up in about 40 minutes.  How long do you want for the laser trials, sir?"

"40 minutes should be fine.  In any event, I don't want the jump delayed.  We will jump as soon as the power is up."

"Target's released," Frank announced.  "Coming about now."

As the ship swung round and started heading back towards the target, both forward laser turrets reported that they had picked it up and were tracking.

"Stand by to fire on the command.  Single pulse only," Mikael ordered.

"Fire."

At that instant, all hell seemed to break loose.  The Cleopatra shuddered under the weight of two explosions: the first and smaller seemed to come from the computer hall directly beneath the bridge and the second from the port laser turret just forward of the bridge.  The force of the explosions threw Mikael to the floor and before he could regain his feet, the air began to fill with smoke.  Alarm bells were jangling furiously and a series of small secondary explosions were happening although he could not quite pinpoint their location.

Somebody opened the emergency locker on the bridge and began handing out breathing masks.  Mikael quickly put one on and immediately felt his breathing become easier.  He stumbled across to his command position and hit the tannoy switch.

"This is the Captain speaking.  We have had an explosion in the forward laser positions.  All sections report damage and status immediately."

As the reports came in, he realised that the Cleopatra had been lucky.  The port laser turret had been completely destroyed and there was a fire in the main computer hall which was threatening to get out of control, but none of the interior bulkheads had been breached and most of the ship was still functioning.  The two crewmen who had been manning the port laser were almost certainly dead but all the other sections reported only minor injuries.  The fire was the major concern.

"Frank, take over here.  I'm going down to the computer hall to see the situation for myself."

He ran down the stairs from the bridge and the amount of smoke increased alarmingly until, inside the computer hall, he could hardly see his hand in front of his face.  It was obvious that the damage control crew were losing their fight against the fire.  He ordered the complete evacuation of the area but found that he had to shout to make even the nearest man hear him.  Frantically, Mikael started grabbing their shoulders and shoving them towards the bulkhead door.  One or two reacted angrily until they saw who was doing the pushing.  Outside the door, he spoke to the Electronics Officer who had been in charge of the computer hall.

"Is everybody out, Erik?   Are all your men accounted for?"

They took a quick roll call before slamming and sealing the door.  Mikael hit the emergency switch and Halon gas flooded the computer hall starving the fire of the oxygen it needed to keep burning.  With so much electronic equipment in there, water could not be used to fight a fire and an inert gas, such as Halon, was the only effective answer.

"As soon as the air conditioning has removed that Halon, get in there and give me a full damage report," he ordered.

"Aye aye, sir."

"Captain to the bridge.  Captain to the bridge," came over the tannoy.

Mikael ran back up to the bridge noting with some relief as he did so, that the amount of smoke had already started to reduce.

"What's up, Frank?"

"You'd better come and see for yourself," he replied and led the way down to the starboard laser turret.

Inside the turret the Chief Engineer had removed several of the panels covering the control wiring and was peering at their contents with a very worried expression on his face.

"What is it, Chief?   What have you found?"

"There's a wee bomb in there.  It was rigged to go off when the laser was fired but it failed to detonate.  I guess the laddies in the port turret weren't so lucky."

"Can you handle it?"

"Ay, I can.  It's no sophisticated.  It's a while since I've had to deal with anything like this but I canna see any trembler switches or booby traps in there.  It's just a question of snipping those two wires and it'll be OK.  However, you'd better clear the area back to yon bulkhead just in case I'm wrong. "

"OK Chief, but hold off until we can rig a remote video.  I want a record of each step you take in case we find any more of the bloody things.

"Frank, I want a complete sweep made of the entire ship.  If there are any more bombs on board I'd like to know about it.... before they go bang."

As the technicians began setting up the video equipment, Mikael ran back to the bridge.

"What's the status of the computer hall?" he called to the Electronics Officer.

"The laser control computers have been totally destroyed.  Some of the other computers have sustained smoke damage and we've switched to the back-up navigation processors. Apart from that, all functions are OK, sir."

"Apart from the laser controls, can we repair the damage?"

"Yes, sir."

“Carry on, then."

"Video's set up," the Chief came over the intercom.  "Ready to seal off the turret, sir."

"The computers are back on-line, Chief.  Is there anything in the databanks which would help you?  Any description of this type of device?"

"I've already checked the databanks, sir, and I'm no greatly concerned.  It's a pretty crude device and it's a type I've seen before."

"All right, Chief.  Seal the bulkhead and get on with it.  It's all yours."

"Aye aye, sir."

Mikael turned to the video monitor to watch the operation.

"There are two wires into the detonator: one blue and one yellow. I'm going to cut the blue wire first."

"Wait a minute, Chief," Mikael cut in.  "Why choose the blue rather than the yellow?"

"I fed the description of the device and my proposed plan into the TacAn computer, sir.  It agrees that the blue wire is the best one to cut first.  And besides, blue's my lucky colour."

"I hope you're right," Mikael muttered to himself as he watched the Chief select a pair of wire cutters from his tool kit, carefully position the jaws around the wire and....

Snip.  A cheer went up around the bridge as the two ends of the wire fell away and the video continued to show the starboard laser turret intact.

"All right, hold it down," Mikael ordered.  "Well done, Chief.  Tidy up in there now and give me a report on the operational status of that laser.

"Navigation, are we ready to jump yet?"

There was a sudden silence on the bridge.  He looked up to find everybody staring at him as though they could not believe what they had heard.

"What are you all staring at?  The Cleopatra has been given a job to do.  The fact that someone has tried to sabotage the mission only emphasises the importance of it.  This ship is still operational and, while it is, we will go on with the mission.  I expect nothing less than 100% loyalty and support from each and every member of this crew.  The Cleopatra is a good ship: she has a good crew and she's a long way from being beaten yet.  Now jump to it."

CHAPTER 8

The hotel lobby was deserted when they reached it.  Marienna was about to push through the revolving doors when he grabbed her arm to stop her.

"If the porter's not there, the security will be on automatic," he whispered, peering through the glass doors.  "I can see at least three video cameras and there may be more.  They'll be operated by infrared movement detectors."

He took off his rucksack and rummaged through the contents to find a small box of electronics.

"We haven't got time to be too subtle.  This will produce an interference pattern on any video camera within 50 metres."

He switched on the little box and led the way through the doors.  They crossed the floor of the lobby pretending to be deep in conversation, just in case there was a live audience after all.  On the far side of the lobby he pointed out the cloakrooms and the direction of the lounge bar.

"Let's go and get changed.  I'll switch the interference off as soon as we're in the cloakrooms and I'll meet you in the lounge when you're ready.  Don't rush: from here on it doesn't matter if there's anyone around to see us."

When he had changed, he emptied the contents of his rucksack onto the floor.  Turning the rucksack inside out converted it into a rather smart travelling bag and into it he carefully repacked all of his equipment.  He opened the door and went out into the lobby again.  There was a porter on the desk by this time but he paid no attention to the smartly dressed guest who made his way over to the bank of information screens.

It only took him a few minutes of paging through the information display to find the details he wanted; the times of the courtesy transport to the spaceport.  The first one was not until 08:30.  He looked round as Marienna joined him in front of the displays.

"Ah, there you are, darling.  We've just got time for some breakfast before the transport goes.  I'm starving."

***

The spaceport on Floreat was not so much on the edge of town as the other way around.  As with most spaceports, it also doubled as a military base and perimeter security was provided by the Regional Militia.  There were no naval units permanently based there but the town originally grew up to provide leisure facilities for the militia and for any visiting naval ships.  Tourism came much later when the development of luxury liners like the Aldebaran, and the establishment of recognised cruise routes, brought the ability to travel for pleasure within the reach of the ordinarily rich as opposed to the extremely rich.

The spacefield itself occupied most of the crater of an extinct volcano and so was roughly circular in shape and about six kilometres across.  The old town had been built just outside the perimeter by the barracks but a new terminal building had to be constructed further round the perimeter to handle the influx of tourists and the modern hotels and leisure complexes were centred around this area.  The Floreat Park Hotel, which was where they had landed, was the furthest out of these hotels and had acquired a certain notoriety as the venue of some of the more eccentric and dangerous sporting events.  The last time the hotel hosted the Regional Final of the Hang Gliders Aerial Combat Competition there were no less than 47 fatalities and serious casualties.

The new terminal building was connected across the perimeter to a shopping complex, by a covered walkway controlled by the perimeter security guards.  It was down this walkway towards the shops, that Mr. and Mrs. Held strolled casually, after being dropped at the terminal by the hotel transport.

Their first call was at the First Inter Stellar Bank where he checked that funds had been made available in the name of D. Held.  He withdrew a substantial sum, partly in the local currency and partly in Imperial Credits, and transferred the balance on to Andes.

Next shop was a leather shop to pick out a matching set of luggage.  Finally, to Marienna's great delight, she was given a wad of notes, an empty suitcase and instructions to use the one to fill the other from the boutiques all around them.  It was a difficult and challenging assignment but the look on her face when they met for lunch, told him that she had acquitted herself admirably.  Indeed when he took the suitcase from her, he began to think in terms of withdrawing some additional credits to cover the excess baggage charges.

He had not been idle either that morning.  After buying some clothes for himself, he had returned to the terminal building and visited the Information Desk, where he collected the tickets which had been left for them.  He also enquired about the progress of the Aldebaran, to be told that she had already entered her transit orbit and was no more than 5 minutes behind schedule.

Now they went to check in their luggage and he felt mildly relieved that the excess charges were not as great as he had feared.  They then headed for the restaurant and chose a window table to watch for the incoming shuttle while they lunched.

For most of the morning he had been fairly certain that their activities had gone unremarked.  However, as they had checked in, a faint but persistent prickling had started at the back of his mind.  Outwardly everything had appeared normal, but they had been expected and now he was sure they were under observation.  He had steered Marienna to a table from which they could not only watch the activity out on the field but which also afforded him a reasonable view of most of the terminal building.  But it was Marienna who first spotted the man.

"David, I think we're being watched."

"All right; now don't stare at him.  Just describe him to me and where he's sitting."

"He's average height and build; probably about 1.80 metres, 75 kilos; aged about 45, dark hair, tanned complexion.  He's sitting over your right shoulder, five rows back and three tables over."

He turned slightly to call to a waitress and located the watcher as he did so.  The prickling sensation increased: Marienna was right.

"Yes, you're quite right, my dear.  He's the one who picked us up at the check-in desk.  The interesting question is, are they watching all the passengers for the Aldebaran, or has he singled us out for some reason?"

"Are you going to do anything about him?"

"Not without knowing the answer to that question.  We can't risk drawing attention to ourselves until we know if he's got friends in the neighbourhood.  Let's just finish our lunch for now."

They announced the incoming shuttle several minutes before it was visible to the naked eye.  In the restaurant there was a general move towards the windows to get a better view.  Marienna adjusted her position fractionally to clear her line of fire, but the watcher appeared completely unconcerned by the imminent arrival of the shuttle and remained seated at his table.

The tannoy spoke again, directing attention to an area of sky above a particular hill where a small dot was rapidly growing larger.  The shuttle pilot was obviously playing to the gallery as he left his deceleration to the last possible second, finally coming to a hover about 200 metres from the terminal building and about 20 metres off the ground.  He gradually edged the shuttle in to about 100 metres and gently set her down on the apron.

After the briefest of delays, a door opened halfway down the shuttle's side and the automatic stairs telescoped out.  Some 25 passengers came down the steps and headed off for the terminal building in a straggly line while maintenance vehicles began sniffing round the shuttle looking for the baggage.  A few minutes later, the crew of the shuttle, pilot, engineer and two stewardesses, also emerged down the stairs and started to walk towards the terminal.

***

Jonas Middleton was proud of his job as shuttle pilot.  He was also good at his job and popular with the passengers because he had enough natural skill to make it seem to the novice traveller as though he was taking all sorts of daring risks in what were actually quite safe manoeuvres.  He had been pilot now for 18 months and before that he had been the shuttle's engineer/ copilot on the Aldebaran's sister ship, the Betelgeuse.

He was aware that he owed his position, at least in part, to some highly placed political pressure but he was not quite bright enough to be entirely sure of the source of this pressure.  He had a contact from whom he received instructions and a monthly retainer, and to whom he sent the reports he was occasionally asked to provide.  Mostly these were to do with the on-ship activities of prominent passengers and their travelling companions and he had recruited one of the stewards from the first class deck to help him gather the information.

So he had not been particularly surprised to receive a coded message telling him to keep observation on two young ladies travelling together.  What had caused him some mild surprise was that the two appeared to be perfectly normal in their sexual inclinations and were, furthermore, either quite respectable or so discreet that he had been unable to collect any of the usual evidence.

His standing orders were to send a report from each planet which the Aldebaran touched and to check each time for further instructions.  Being the shuttle pilot, of course, obliged him to go planetside on a regular basis and provided an ideal cover for these activities.

So on reaching the terminal building on Floreat, he headed first for the small office of the forwarding agent his instructions told him to use.  He felt a slight unease at handing over the package because, for the first time, he had not delivered the type of information his contact normally required.  Then he crossed to the Information Desk to collect the message he knew would be waiting for him.

At the Information Desk, however, there were two messages awaiting him rather than just one.  This caused him no little concern because his range of social contacts who might be inclined to send him a personal message and who also knew his schedule, was limited to approximately zero.

He went over to one of the public booths to listen to the messages.  He unsealed the first disc, inserted it into the slot and tapped in his personal identification code.  The screen sprang into life to show the face of his usual contact.  The message was brief: maintain observation on the two girls until Andes, where he would receive further instructions.

He unsealed the second disc, inserted it and entered his personal code.  This time the screen remained blank but he recognised instantly the voice that spoke to him, even though it had to be a good seven years since he had last heard it.

"Hello Jonas, remember me?  I'm sure you do but in case you're having trouble with your memory, think of the Triads of Hokkim.  They think you're dead.  They would, I'm certain, be quite annoyed to find out that you're not.  So annoyed that they might take steps to correct the situation.

"You owe me, Jonas.  You owe me your life and now I'm calling in the marker, so listen carefully.  When you land the shuttle at Andes, it will develop a mechanical problem.  About six hours should be sufficient but you will stretch it out if necessary, until I get there.  Your Captain will be as mad as hell but he will have no alternative but to orbit the planet and wait for you.

"Do this for me, Jonas, and I will wipe the slate clean.  But if you fail me, you had better run hard and run fast because, whenever you stop, there will be a Triad hatchet man behind you."

He felt his face blanch and he stayed seated in the booth for several minutes after the message had finished before he felt sufficiently confident that his legs would support his weight.

Hokkim....  seven years ago.  He had managed to push the memory of that place and time, deep into the furthest recesses of his mind, but now it all came flooding back.  He acknowledged the debt: he was quite willing to do that.  He knew that, without help, he would not have made it off Hokkim alive.  And even then, it had cost him most of the profit he had made on that drugs deal.  If only he had turned the money over to the Triad as arranged, then he would not be in this mess.  But it was too late to think of that now.

Right now, he had a different problem to worry about.  He could not even begin to think how he could contrive a serious mechanical failure, which would delay the shuttle by at least six hours, without leaving behind traces of his action, but he knew that he would have to do it somehow.  The prospect of living the rest of his life, even if it was to be somewhat abbreviated, looking over his shoulder for one of the Triad's killers, was not something he could tolerate.

When he came out of the booth, his mind was still racing and he stared around blindly as though he was having difficulty in focusing on his surroundings.  Eventually his vision cleared sufficiently for him to recognise that he was staring at a sign pointing to the Wayfarer's Bar and the idea clicked.  He needed a drink before anything else, and certainly before flying that dammed shuttle again.

***

"The shuttle pilot looks as though he's had some bad news," Marienna observed.  "He went into that booth looking puzzled but he's come out looking as though he's seen a ghost.”

"And now he's headed for the bar.  Yes, I noticed him too.  I do hope we're doing the right thing joining the Aldebaran here.... the risks of space travel look as though they've just increased.

"Still, it's too late now.  They're calling us through into the departure lounge.  Shall we go?"

As they stood up from their table, the watcher also rose and hurried, almost ran, across to the cashier.  He left the restaurant ahead of them and spoke quickly to a second man who was standing outside.  The conversation only lasted a few seconds, then both men turned and walked rapidly away.