The Voyage of the Star Wolf (33 page)

Korie and Armstrong slid the cart into position next to a makeshift work-bay. Leen slid down a ladder to help them secure the fluctuator. “Use the clamps,” he pointed. “Here, like this. Hold it—okay. That damned assassin knew what he was doing,” Leen said to Korie. “The
Burke
's machine shop is junk. You better pray you don't have any problems once you get under way.”

“You'd better pray,” Korie corrected him. “I'm asking Hardesty for you—”

“Don't do me any favors. I've got enough work here. I have to break all three of these down and insulate them against resonance effects in case we have to scramble.” He grunted as he secured the last clamp. “I'm not even thinking about installing them yet.”

“Chief, I really need you—”

“You're right, you do,” Leen admitted grudgingly. He thought a moment. “I really hate to say it, but there isn't anyone else who could get that ship running. I'm not bragging, that's just the truth.”

“And Reynolds can manage here,” Korie prompted.

“Yeah. All right.” Leen did not look happy.

Korie slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Chief.”

“Don't get all mushy. I'm not doing it for you.”

“Well, thanks anyway—”

Leen's answer was lost in the sudden blare of the alarm klaxon.

“Mr. Korie?” HARLIE interrupted. “I'm picking up an alarm in the brig of the
Burke
.” The screen on the workbench lit up to show—

At first, Korie couldn't recognize what he was seeing. It looked like war had broken out. HARLIE was showing him the view from the remote cameras.

Korie realized what was happening with a sudden rush of cold-fire terror.
The energy cage hadn't held him
.

The screen showed flashes of laser fire. Something exploded and lurched. Someone was screaming. Korie thought he saw a crewman being hurled across the shuttlecraft bay. There was a brief glimpse of the assassin—and then suddenly, the screen was dead.

HARLIE reported calmly, “The Morthan Cinnabar has escaped.”

“Where's the captain?”

“He's on the
Burke
.”

“Lock down everything!”

“Already in progress.”

Korie didn't hear it. He was already pounding toward the forward access. Armstrong charged along behind him.

The other members of the ship's security team were on the way too. They slid down ladders or fell out of doorways or hurtled down the keel after Korie or ahead of him, pulling on vests, grabbing weapons and security helmets, shouting and cursing. The alarm continued to bleat under everything.

The access door was already sealed. Two security guards in heavy armor were in kneeling position before it, one on each side. Their rifles were pointed unwaveringly at the door. Korie grabbed a security harness from a Quilla, pulled it on over his head, and then the armor after it—and then the helmet. Somebody shoved a weapon into his arm. He checked its charge, armed it, and unlocked the safety. He glanced around quickly to see who else was there—Reynolds, Armstrong, Nakahari, half the engine room crew, and two Quillas. He pointed them into position.

And then he was ready—

“All right,” Korie said angrily. “No more Mr. Nice Guy.
Set weapons to kill.
” To HARLIE, “Okay. Open the door—”

There was a whoosh and the airlock doors began to slide open.

Korie and the security team burst through the access and out into the shuttle bay of the
Burke
like a horde of hell-spawned furies.

The shuttle bay was a smoking nightmare. The energy cage was crumpled in a heap against one wall. It still crackled and flashed; sparks skittered across the floor. Smoldering scorch marks scored the walls. Puddles of blood streaked the floor. The robot cameras had been shattered; the sentries lay in pieces; the broken rifles were burning and sputtering.

Korie pointed half his team toward the starboard corridor; he led the other team into the portside passage.

Only moments before, he and Armstrong had wheeled a high-cycle fluctuator along this very way. Korie and his team poured swiftly through the corridor and into the
Burke
's engine room.

“Oh my God.”

The shuttle bay had been a warm-up for this. The only things in the engine room not destroyed were the two remaining high-cycle fluctuators. Korie slid down a pole to the floor of the engine room; the rest of his team followed, either down the poles or the ladders.

Haddad lay on the floor, his throat ripped open. The bodies of the others who had been working here were hung on the singularity framework like so many sides of beef. The engine room looked like an abattoir.

Korie and his team moved into the room, weapons held high and ready. They moved past the bodies quickly. Three men and one woman, all dead—and still dripping. Korie's first impulse was to say, “Take them down from there.” But he stifled it, unsaid. There wasn't time. Not yet. Maybe later.

“This could have been us,” Armstrong started babbling. “If we hadn't carried the fluctuator out—”

“Shut up, Armstrong!” Korie's bellow startled even himself.

Abruptly, the klaxon stopped. Korie was staring at Haddad's strangled expression. He wanted to say something; he wanted to apologize—a sound caught his attention; something was moving forward. He swung his weapon around—

Brik and Bach burst into the engine room from the forward keel, fanning their weapons before them. The two security teams stared at each other. The sense of horror leapt outward from the space between them.
Where's the Morthan
?

Korie couldn't help but wonder—is this how it started on the
Burke
?

“He's not forward?”

Brik shook his head. He glanced around. “He got this far.”

“You didn't see him?” Bach asked.

Both Korie and Brik gave her the same look.
Don't be silly
.

“Sorry,” said Bach, realizing. The question
was
stupid.

Korie pointed to an access hatch in the wall. “Inner hull?” he asked Brik.

Brik nodded. “It's the only way—” He was already pulling the hatch open. He dropped through it into the dark space beyond. Reluctantly, Korie followed.

The space beyond the wall was dark and shadowy. It was as unfinished and spooky as the inner hull of the
LS-1187
. Korie and Brik both switched on their helmet lights and peered around grimly.

Everything here was beams and cables and stanchions. It was more than uninviting. It was suicidal.

“HARLIE,” Korie asked. “Have you got a lock on the captain yet?”

“No, Mr. Korie.”

Korie took a hesitant step forward into the darkness. He frowned. He was sure he could hear the Morthan assassin breathing in the gloom. He was sure they were being watched. He glanced sideways at Brik. “You feel it too?”

Brik grunted.

“Why doesn't he attack?”

“Because it's not part of the trap.”

“I don't like this,” Korie said. “Too much opportunity for disaster.”

Brik agreed. Korie pulled himself up out of the inner hull, back into the light of the engine room. Brik followed.

Bach was arguing with Armstrong. “—I want to know how he got out of the cage!”

“Ease up,” Korie interrupted her with a gentle tap on the shoulder. “We'll worry about that later.”

Nakahari reported, “Mr. Korie, S.A. says the
Burke
's totally locked down now.”

Brik responded to that. His skepticism was obvious. “No. The assassin had too much time to reprogram the Systems Analysis Network. Don't trust it.”

“Brik's right,” Korie said. “This whole thing's a trap—” He gave the looming Morthan a grudging look of acceptance, and then added, “—and I'm not getting sucked into it any deeper. Evacuate the
Burke
. Now. Everybody off!” He started waving them back with crisp military gestures. The team fell back in a guarded withdrawal, their weapons covering every step.

“HARLIE,” Korie ordered, “sound the evacuation. Do it now.”

The alarm rang through the
Burke
, clanging and banging. The crewmembers of the
LS-1187
still aboard her came running for the airlock access. They popped out of cabins and utility tubes and everywhere else they had been hiding and pounded along the catwalks and the keel toward their only escape. Korie hurried them onward, shouting as they passed, “Off! Everybody off!”

He and Brik were the last two to exit. They paused at the aft access, their weapons covering the ruined shuttle bay. “HARLIE? Is everybody out?”

“I show no active monitors.”

“Where's the Captain?”

“His monitor is no longer working, Mr. Korie. I have begun a scan.”

Korie said a word.

“Say again, please?” HARLIE asked.

“Never mind.”

“If you said what I thought you said, it is anatomically impossible for most human beings—”

Korie stepped through the access, Brik backed through after him. “Never mind, HARLIE. Seal it off.”

The doors whooshed shut.

Korie looked around. The rest of the impromptu rescue team were standing and waiting for his next orders. He shook his head and pushed through them. Brik followed.

They headed down the keel and climbed up onto the Operations deck where Tor and Hodel were just putting a schematic display up on the holotable. Leen was there too.

“Casualties?” Korie asked.

HARLIE responded instantly. “Security squads A and B. Stardrive engineers Haddad, Jorgensen, and Blake. Also Wesley.”

“Damn. Have you located the captain?

“Sorry, sir.”

Korie stepped forward and leaned on the holotable. He took a moment to catch his breath, then looked up. Every officer on the Ops deck and Bridge was looking at him, waiting for his orders. “Show me your scan of the
Burke
. Where's the captain?” He peered at the glowing display,
frowning. Two transparent starships floated in the air over the table, their walls and decks were clearly outlined, but that was all.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Korie—I show no life readings at all.”

“Not even the assassin?” asked Brik.

“It appears that the assassin has somehow altered his metabolism beyond the ability of our sensors.”

“And the captain?” asked Korie.

“The captain's metabolism could not be safely altered.”

Korie nodded to himself. He looked up and said, “Doctor to the Bridge, please.” To HARLIE, “Okay. Show me what the monitors recorded. What happened?” He turned forward to look at the main viewer.

“Here—” said HARLIE, narrating, explaining. “You can see that the Morthan assassin was never seriously restrained by the energy cage. He steps through it as easily as a biofilter. I'll show you all the angles. Here's the slow motion—”