The Knights of the Black Earth (26 page)

“But we are, aren’t
we, old friend?”

“Yes, old friend,”
Rowan replied, with that lopsided smile. “We are. Tell your man to move out. He’s
got three minutes, starting now.”

Xris gave the
order.

Rowan, breathing a
sigh, sat back in her chair.

“What do we do
now?” Xris asked.

“Wait.”

Xris pulled a
twist out of his pocket, lit it.

“Smoking’s not
allowed,” said Rowan, amused.

“Add it to the
list of charges.” Xris eyed her. “I never thought I’d say this, but you don’t
make a bad-looking woman. Just what is it we’re waiting for?”

“An enemy attack,”
Rowan returned gravely.

“Fortuitous
timing.”

“Yes, isn’t it.
Ah!”

The deck shook
beneath Xris’s feet, nearly knocking him over. He grabbed hold of the edge of
Rowan’s desk.

Rowan stood up. “That
will be the enemy now. Coming?”

Red lights were
flashing, Klaxons sounding.

Rowan negotiated
her way through the maze of computer equipment, heading for the side door.
Xris, lasgun in his hand, followed.

“What
was
that?”

“I set a plasma
venting system to overload, caused an explosion on Level CC, Section 2. Don’t
worry. No one was around. That section’s been abandoned for years. Unused
living space. The hull’s been breached—according to the computer—by an enemy
Corasian torpedo.”

“Let me guess:
There are no Corasians within a zillion light-years of this place.”

“I shouldn’t think
so,” Rowan returned calmly. “But according to the computer, there’s an entire
enemy fleet out there, complete with mother ships.”

“But the scanners—”

“Shut down.”

“Hell, all anyone
has to do is look outside the damn window. They’ll
know
we’re not under
enemy attack.”

“True,” said
Rowan. “But it’s going to take them at least two hours to convince the computer
otherwise. In the meantime, all the blast doors have been shut, which means
most people are trapped in their own areas. The Marines are under orders to
report to their combat stations—if they can get to them.”

“But they’ll be
able to manually override the controls.”

“Not anymore.”
Rowan had reached the door. She looked at Xris. “There’ll be guards outside
waiting for us.”

Xris waved the
lasgun. “You’re my hostage, remember? Just a minute. If the blast doors are
shut, how do we get out?”

“We
have
manual security override,” Rowan answered. She had her hand on the controls,
but she didn’t open them. “You wouldn’t have asked me such questions in the old
days, Xris.”

“Ito hadn’t been
blown into a fine red mist in the old days. And I wasn’t a machine. I’m letting
you live, Rowan. Don’t ask me to trust you into the bargain.” He jammed the
lasgun into her side. “Open the door. And watch what you say and do.”

She nodded,
touched the controls.

The door slid
open.

Five Marines, beam
rifles leveled, were waiting for them out in the corridor.

Rowan raised her
hands, stepped out. Xris crowded close behind her, using her body as a shield.

“I’ve got a
22-decawatt lasgun,” he told the Marines. “It’s set to fire the second the
pressure of my finger relaxes. You so much as stun me and the major dies.”

“He’s not
bluffing,” Rowan said swiftly. “He’s a mercenary, working for the Corasians.
Part of the enemy attack force. Now, if you’ll just let us pass—”

The captain of the
Marines looked uneasy. “You know we can’t do that, Major Mohini. We have standing
orders to shoot you, rather than allow you to fall into enemy hands.”

Rowan glanced back
over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Xris glared at
her. “Why, you—”

The lights went
out. The windowless corridor was suddenly, intensely, unbelievably dark.

Xris’s infrared
vision clicked on; he could see warm bodies. The Marines, on the other hand,
were completely blind. The cyborg took out the captain with a blow of his metal
hand to the jaw, sent the man reeling. A kick of his steel leg sent another
Marine to the floor.

Grabbing hold of
Rowan’s arm, Xris dragged her after him, began running down the corridor.

Leaderless and
unable to see, fearful of hitting each other, the Marines were calling for
security to turn on the emergency backup lights.

Security wasn’t
responding.

“Lights out—your
work, too?” Xris asked Rowan. “Taking a chance, weren’t you?”

“Not really.” She
shrugged. “I know you. I figured you’d have some sort of infrared.”

They came to a
blast door. Rowan punched in a code on the keypad. The blast doors shuddered,
slid open. Xris and Rowan slipped through. Rowan hit the controls on the other
side, the doors slid shut. This corridor was still brightly lit.

“The elevators won’t
be working. We’ll have to take the fire stairs. Oh, shit.”

People were
milling about in the hallways. One, spotting Rowan, started toward her.

“Major, what’s
going on? We can’t reach secur—”

“What the devil
are you people doing out here?” Rowan demanded. “Don’t you hear the damn alarm?
We’re under enemy attack! Get to your posts!”

Some returned to
their offices. Others remained huddled uncertainly in the corridor. But at
least her orders gave them something else to talk about.

Rowan shoved open
the fire door, began running down the narrow metal stairs. Xris clattered after
her.

“Were those
soldiers serious?” he yelled over the noise they were making. “About shooting
you?”

“Yes!” Rowan
yelled back. “I told you. You’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

He grunted, said
nothing, saved his breath for running.

They exited out
into the work area near the bug-’bot station. And there was Harry, looking
nervous, lasgun in hand, waiting for them. He was so relieved at the sight of
Xris that the cyborg was afraid for a minute Harry was going to hug him.

“Where is
everyone?” Xris cast a swift glance around.

“Some Marines were
all bunched up around the door leading to the loading dock and our plane. I
hung around, making myself scarce, wondering how I was going to get past them.
Then the floor began to shake and the alarms went off. That commander fellow
talked to someone, then said something to his men about the hull being breached
and they had to get up there right away. He left a couple of Marines on guard
and the rest left. I took care of the Marines. I used the hypno-spray this
time,” Harry added hurriedly.

They ran through
the deserted work facility.

“XP-28’s got the
engines warming up,” Harry continued. “But unless you want me to blast that
plane through a nullgrav steel door, we’re not going anywhere in a hurry. And
then there’s the tractor beam.”

“All taken care
of,” Rowan said briskly.

Harry looked at
the woman running along beside him in considerable astonishment. He nudged
Xris. “Who’s that?”

“Rowan. Dalin ...
Darlene ...” Xris gave up.

“Just Rowan,” she
said, with her crooked smile.

“The person you
were gonna kill,” said Harry.

Xris didn’t see
any need to answer that.

Harry grinned,
rubbed his hands. “That’s great,” he said. “Really great! I win the pot.”

Xris glanced at
him, puzzled. “What pot?”

“The bet. With the
others. I said you couldn’t kill her, Xris.”

Fortunately for
Harry, Xris was too busy at the moment to respond. They dashed past the
comatose forms of two Marine guards and entered loading dock Lima 28. The
spaceplane was lit up, engines throbbing, ready for takeoff.

“I’ve got Xris,
Jamil,” Harry said into the comm. “Lower the ramp and prepare for takeoff.” He
cast a dubious glance at Rowan. “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re
doing, lady.”

The ramp lowered.
They hurried on board.

Harry went
straight to the pilot’s chair, Rowan right behind him. Xris came right behind
her.

“She’s Rowan. I’ll
explain later,” he said in response to startled looks from the rest of the
team.

“Strap yourselves
in tight,” Harry ordered. “We could be in for a rough takeoff.”

Rowan sat down in
the copilot’s chair. Xris kept as near her as possible, strapping himself into
the seat closest to the cockpit. He still held the lasgun in his hand. Rowan
glanced at it, then looked away.

“This is what I’ve
done.” She spoke to Harry coolly. “I’ve set the docking bay door controls on
automatic. When the spaceplane approaches them, they’ll begin to open. Once
they’ve started to cycle, the control tower can’t prevent the blast doors from
rising. That’s a safety feature.”

“Okay, so we can
fly out of here. What about that damn tractor beam?”

“I’ve rerouted all
power from the tractor beam to the food processing panels and recycling plants.
It’ll take them awhile to figure that one out.”

“All right,” Harry
said slowly, assimilating the information, “so we fly out
and
away from
the tractor beam. Then the Navy locks us on target with the big guns and shoots
us down.”

Rowan shook her
head. “The lascannons are all being aimed at the Corasian invasion fleet.”

Harry gasped. “What?
A Corasian invasion—”

“Never mind!” Xris
snapped. “Just get us out of here!”

“You’re going to
fly into a Corasian invasion fleet? Xris, that’s sui—”

“It’s not real!”
Xris shouted.

“He’s right,”
Rowan said soothingly. “It’s not real. I’ll explain later. You can take off
safely now.”

But Harry was not
to be rushed. “What about patrol planes? We”—he tapped the cargo plane’s
console—”have no shields, no guns.”

“There’ll be a few
patrol planes out there,” Rowan admitted. ‘Not much I could do about those. But
most of the squadron pilots have discovered that
their
docking bay doors
won’t open. I activated a maintenance program that—”

“Skip it.” Xris
knew from experience how long some of Rowan’s explanations could last. “Get us
the hell out of here
now”

Harry glanced
over. “You trust her, boss?”

“It doesn’t much
matter, does it? We can either fly out of here or walk out with our hands on
top of our heads. Which is it going to be?”

Xris had avoided
the question of trust and everyone in the plane knew it. The others exchanged
grim glances.

“Well, when you
put it that way . . . XP,” Harry ordered, “bring main engines on line and fire
maneuvering thrusters.”

“Excuse me, Pilot
Luck,” said the computer respectfully, “but I am programmed to remind you that
we have not received permission to leave—”

“Take over manual
control,” Xris commanded.

“Sorry about this,
XP,” Harry said, giving the computer a conciliatory pat. “But switch flight
control over to manual. That’s an order.”

“Yes, Pilot Luck.
I was only doing my duty. I trust that will be so noted in the log.”

“Oh, sure, sure,”
Harry said absently.

He was absorbed in
his job now, oblivious to all else. The expression on his face even altered
from one of almost perpetual befuddlement to intense, focused concentration. He
seemed to flow into the spaceplane, almost like the legendary Blood Royal, who
had reputedly been able to connect themselves with their own spaceplanes
through the micromachines in their bloodstream. Harry had no micromachines in
his blood. He connected with the plane by feel and thought, by instinct and
intuition.

The spaceplane
lifted off the landing pad, turned, headed for the gigantic metal doors.

The cockpit
speaker crackled to life. “Olicien Two Five Niner, you are
not
cleared
for takeoff. Repeat,
not
cleared. Return to your assigned parking area.”

Harry shut off the
speaker and aimed the nose of the spaceplane at the blast doors. He fired the
thrusters. The doors shivered. The plane flew nearer, nearer, picking up speed.

“As fast as we’re
flying,” Tycho observed to no one in particular, “we won’t be able to stop.”

No one answered.

Xris glanced at
Rowan, who was staring at the doors with a pale, set expression on her face.
Maybe this is how she’s going to end it, he thought suddenly, his stomach
muscles tightening. Go out in a ball of fire. And this time she’ll make sure of
me, as well.

The plane’s speed
was increasing. Harry steered for the bottom of the blast door, planning to
swoop out the moment he had enough room.

If that moment
came. . ..

They were within
two hundred meters, rocketing toward nullgrav steel doors that could absorb a
direct hit from a meson without buckling. The spaceplane would smash into the
blast doors, explode, and maybe leave a black char mark that would probably
wash off with a little soap and water.

One hundred and
fifty meters. Jamil’s ebony skin glistened with sweat. Quong’s eyes were
closed, his mouth moving, either in prayer or reciting algebraic equations; he
did both in emergencies. Tycho’s thin fingers gripped the arms of his chair;
his skin had turned a sick pink—not due to color alteration, but to strain.

One hundred
meters.

“Ah!” Harry
breathed softly in satisfaction.

The blast doors
shivered, began to rise—at a crawl.

“Come on, baby,”
Harry said to the doors. “Faster.”

The doors were now
a little over a quarter of the way up.

“I’m going for it,”
Harry shouted. “Hang on.”

The plane shot
through the opening and soared into the black vacuum of space.

“Did you hear a
scraping sound?” Tycho asked, his translator squeaking. “I heard a scraping
sound. I’ll bet we’ve left a streak of yellow paint on that damn door.”

“I think I left a
streak of yellow down my pants leg,” Jamil muttered.