Tech World (Undying Mercenaries Series) (27 page)

We moved to a central console outside the stacked modules. I knew these containers were empty for the most part. Only four of them were occupied according to the boards. Three of them held the three units of troops that Germanic had stationed here. The rest were waiting to take the entire legion back home to Earth.

“Uh-oh, a breach. Tap this console with your key, please.”

I hesitated. I saw the blinking yellow box on the board. One of the modules had turned off the lock down. Right now, it was probably disgorging troops.

Something had gone wrong. It could have been anything. Maybe the Primus had talked to the people back on the station. Or maybe they’d gotten a report from the men Claver had killed out in the hangar. Possibly the Imperator was back on the scene and had ordered them to arrest us.

It didn’t matter what had gone wrong. Something had. The situation was unraveling.

“After all this shit, you’re turning into a wimp on me at the last minute?” Claver demanded. “You want to get us permed, McGill?”

Hissing through my teeth with regret, I reached out and tapped the console.

Claver’s hands flickered over the console. I didn’t know how to operate it, but I knew it was an alien piece of hardware: a control system that the key in my hands had unlocked.

Three of
the stacked modules went red. Then they vanished from the stack.

“What…?” I demanded. “What did you do?”

“I let them go. The troops have...disembarked.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You
jettisoned
them? They’re your own men, Claver! Your fellow legionnaires! Those loyal men would die following your orders!”

Old Silver shrugged, looking a tiny bit troubled. “You’re right,” he said, “they would die for a Germanica officer—they’re as good as dead right now, in fact, proving their loyalty once again. Look at it this way McGill, it was them or us. The only difference is they would have
permed
us. We couldn’t have kept this charade going much longer.”

He was right, but I didn’t like it. “What are you going to do next?” I growled.

“Next comes the tricky part. I’m going to solve everyone’s problems.”

-28-

Claver led me to the fire control center. On
Minotaur
, the control systems were oddly laid out. The bureaucracy of the Empire demanded it.

Every species in the Empire had a monopoly on a given trade good. That trade good could be a service or a product. But within their local sphere of influence, such as Frontier 921, that particular product couldn’t be duplicated. Some goods and services weren’t available in an outlying province—and Frontier 921 was about as outlying as you could get. In that case, a world could trade for goods from outside their home province but at an increased cost.

The Empire’s trade and legal systems worked, but they were often cumbersome. In effect, the system dictated that one planet could build ships—but they couldn’t fly them. Another planet provided the piloting service. In our province, the pilots were all Skrull. That wasn’t the end of it, however. The Skrull were our only locally licensed pilots on any interstellar vehicle, but they weren’t warriors of any kind. Even if they’d wanted to be, it would have been illegal for them to participate in actual hostilities. So therefore, even though
Minotaur
had weaponry, the crew that piloted the ship wasn’t allowed to operate that weaponry. To do so would have constituted a breach of Galactic Law. If the Nairbs, who were our local legal system experts—sort of like lawyers, accountants and bureaucrats all wrapped into one—determined the Law had been broken, they might penalize the Skrull homeworld. Penalties could be as small as a fine in Galactic Credits all the way up to and including annihilation of the offending species.

Minotaur
had a broadside bank of cannons on her armored flank, but the Skrull couldn’t legally operate them. Fortunately, humanity was licensed to kill in other star systems, so we could fire the ship’s guns. For the sake of convenience and to prevent any misunderstandings, the control system for these weapons wasn’t located on the main bridge. It was built into a separate chamber on the decks below. It was to this region of the ship Claver was headed now.

As we got closer to the fire control center, my worries increased.

“Adjunct?” I asked. “You can’t be considering firing on the station. If that’s your plan, I’m not going along with it. There are millions of people—not to mention your legion and mine—living on that station.”

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not crazy. I’m not trying to kill everyone in the system just to keep myself alive. That’s not the goal, here. Try to remember that you’ve personally killed more of their citizens than I have.”

I winced, knowing his words to be true. My 88 had fried thousands by my best estimates. Those people weren’t coming back, either. It had been in self-defense and under orders, but I still felt a little sorry for the Tau.

“What are you planning?” I asked as we reached the big dilating doors that led into the control center.

“Just a sec,” he said, standing to one side of the door. “There were crewmen stationed here last time I checked it out.”

He tried the lock, but it rejected his biometrics. His handprint and retinal scans apparently weren’t in the security system.

I was standing on the opposite side of the big door. We were both hugging the walls like two cops about to burst into a den of thieves.

Claver made a grasping motion, indicating I should toss him the key, but I didn’t budge. He made an exasperated sound and waved me to come over to his side. I did so reluctantly.

“Open this damn door, Specialist.”

“No way. Not until I know what you intend.”

“I told you, I’m going to solve everyone’s problems.”

I frowned at him. “And just how do you intend to do that?”

“The holographic projectors—the ones every Tau seems to be wearing today—are malfunctioning. The truth is, they’ve been tampered with. I happen to know where the source of the altered devices is. I’m going to destroy it from orbit.”

“Ah-ha!” I said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I
knew
you had something to do with the riots. Let me guess, did you sell them defective parts? Or was this all on purpose?”

Claver shrugged. “What difference do those details make? Do you want this madness to stop or not?”

I considered his offer. If his plan worked, the rioters could be stopped. Lives could be saved. Apparently they were passing around devices that had a locked violent demeanor preprogrammed within them. But his story still didn’t add up fully for me.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “I thought the holographic systems only projected the mood of the wearer. How can they change that mood even if they’re malfunctioning?”

Claver rolled his eyes. “You really want to hear about this?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Think about it,” he said. “The Tau projectors have to read a mood to correctly interpret it. They actually take mental and emotional impressions. But what if those devices could
transmit
the mood, not just receive it?”

I stared at him, and my jaw sagged open. “You’re somehow involved in this? You built something that influenced their moods? You
should
get permed!”

Claver became angry. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those people who hate entrepreneurs. There’s no place for innovation in the Empire!”

“It’s not that. You’ve done something illegal and obviously dangerous.”

“I’ve broken no Galactic Law,” he assured me. “The devices are for distribution in this star system only. A purely internal matter.”

“So what? You’ve killed thousands—maybe millions.”

“No one ever appreciates a great product until it’s proven,” he grumbled. “Imagine the profits we could have made here! What if these people were feeling down, but with the twiddle of a knob they could make themselves feel happy? Such a product would change lives. It was a goldmine. There are countless millions of Tau, and many of them are rich.”

“The projectors don’t work, Claver,” I pointed out.

“They actually
do
work—a little too well. Okay, let’s forget about that. Are you going to open this door and let me end these riots or not?”

I hesitated, then sighed. He had me. Even if he was the root of this disaster, I had to help him stop it.

I touched the key to the lock, and the door slid open. Inside, two surprised noncom techs turned to face us.

“Who are you?” they demanded. “Did you escape the modules?”

“Yes,” Claver said, stepping into the control room like he owned the place. “I can’t find any other officers aboard. I wanted to make sure this chamber was secure.”

They frowned at him and even more so at me. “I’m sorry sir, but you aren’t authorized to even be on this deck. We have to ask you to leave.”

“Where’s your commander?”

“Our Centurion was in the modules when they were released as far as we can tell. We’ve been communicating with the Skrull. We’re maneuvering the ship to catch up with them before they make a disastrous reentry.”

“Excellent,” Claver said, “but could you tell me why that indicator is flashing red?”

Both the techs turned toward their boards in concern. Claver produced a sidearm from his tunic and shot them both in the back.

I made a choking sound that matched the surprised gasps of the techs as they sank to the deck plates.

“What the hell…?” I demanded, grabbing his wrist. I pushed the muzzle of my snap-rifle into his belly with my other hand.

“Hands off, Specialist,” he said in a commanding tone.

“Where did you get that weapon?” I demanded.

He shrugged. “You’ve been inattentive.”

“Drop it.”

Reluctantly, he let it go. We’d fought hand-to-hand before, and I could tell he didn’t want a repeat performance.

“They had to die,” he told me. “Do you really think they were going to let me aim and fire their broadsides without authority?”

“No,” I admitted. “But you didn’t have to kill them.”

Claver shook his head as if I were a grade-A fool. “Loose ends destroy the best of plans. Come now, we have to work fast. These men will be revived eventually.”

I held onto him, and the barrel of my snap-rifle continued to prod his guts. “Why didn’t you kill me with that hidden weapon?” I asked.

He brightened. “I don’t know, but I think I’ve started to like you. A true rebel. You remind me of my youth.”

I laughed. “Right. I think I’ve been lucky so far—and I always made sure you were walking in front of me.”

Claver shrugged and pointed at the controls. “More Tau citizens are turning into rogue rioters every hour.”

Heaving a sigh, I let go of him. My every instinct was to fill his gut with pellets—but I didn’t do it. If he could stop these riots, he could save the station—and maybe the entire system.

We moved to the control console. It wasn’t overly complex, but I didn’t know how to operate it. I could tell after a few minutes that Claver was having trouble, too.

“We should have kept those techs alive at gunpoint,” I said. “They would’ve been helpful now.”

“I’ve got it,” Claver announced a moment later. “Touch this security module while my hand is on it. Then touch the one over there.”

“What’s this one?” I said, walking over to the hump of tin-colored metal he’d indicated.

“That’s the firing control. The other console lets me aim.”

I bared my teeth thoughtfully. I was a weaponeer, but these boards were more like a starship’s piloting control system. The controls weren’t simple and manual. They were all touch-screen based, and there were numbers displayed everywhere.

Sucking in a breath and baring my teeth, I touched the modules he’d indicated. He made some adjustments, and the ship began making odd noises in response.

My eyes crawled toward the ceiling. Above me, huge automated cannons were traversing, locking onto the newly designated target. The sounds were ominous, like those you might hear in a vast ship below the waterline.

I found a switch on the panel that opened the blast-shields and flipped it. The scene outside was alarming. Two of the cannons were in view—or at least their long barrels were. They thrust out over my viewpoint aiming down toward the planet. They reminded me of factory smokestacks. The shadows they cast were stark in the blaze of the distant sun.

“Dammit McGill,” Claver complained as he looked up and saw what I’d done. “We can’t fire with the blast-shields open!”

I looked at him, and the barrel of my snap-rifle swiveled so that it aimed directly at him.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t aiming at the station,” I said.

“And why would I do that, my paranoid friend?”

“Because you’re scared of death,” I said. “Everyone who has the power and motive to execute you is on that station.”

“You think I’m that selfish?”

“Yes I do, Old Silver. No one lives as long as you have in a legion—not even Legion Germanica—without being very careful.”

He stared at me, now and then casting involuntary glances down at the barrel of my weapon. “Is this some kind of threat? Some kind of final card-play you’ve been planning?”

“I wish it was,” I admitted. “But I’ve been playing this game by ear from the start.”

Claver chuckled and turned his attention back to the controls. “I’ll close the doors, fire one salvo, and open them again. You’ll get a front row seat as the strike lands.”

At that moment, I wished I didn’t have a gun on him. I wished he was doing this without my knowledge. The fact I was standing there with a rifle in my hand contemplating allowing this lunatic to operate a warship single-handedly was a testament to how desperate I’d become.

“No,” I said finally. “Not yet.”

“What?” Claver demanded. “They’ll overrun the station soon. You saw that street-battle.”

“They might win anyway.”

“Not without new troops. The legions can keep churning out fresh fighters. If the supply is cut off on the other side, we might win. Every minute you delay is lowering the odds.”

“The trouble is,” I told him, “I don’t trust you. Not at all.”

“I can understand that,” he admitted. “But you’re going to have to in this case, son. We’re losing this fight. You can see that, can’t you? We’ve lost ground every day on the station. From the very first day.”

“Because of your stupid get-rich-quick scheme!”

“A product, not a scheme. A failed product, that’s all it was.”

My eyes narrowed as I stared at Old Silver. I could tell he was tense but trying to look nonchalant. He wanted to fire the broadsides, and it was
probably
for the reasons he’d stated. But I couldn’t be sure. The guy was too tricky for his own damned good.

“All right,” I said finally, expelling a deep breath I’d been holding. “But if these doors go back up and the station is hit, I’m telling you as God is my witness I’m blowing you away. And no one, I mean
no one
, will ever revive your sorry ass.”

“I accept your conditions. Hit the damned switch.”

I reached out, and I did it. The massive doors rolled shut, and the starlight was cut out.