War To The Knife (32 page)

“What about knives, Sir?” Sergeant-Major Deacon asked. “I’ve got my father’s knife with me. It’s important to me – sentimental value, you know?”

“I’ll ask the skipper about that when we’re aboard. Make sure everyone brings their personal gear aboard with them. Don’t leave anything aboard the shuttle that you’re not prepared to lose. Bring those two cases of bugs, too, and their consoles. I’m not leaving them behind.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Dave turned back to Tamsin. “Dump the shuttle’s memory module to a data chip and bring the copy with you. It’ll have our mission details on it, plus all the vid and sensor records transmitted from the planetside attack until the station blew up. I’ll add it to our evidence archive.”

“Will do.”

Captain Grassby was waiting for them in the vestibule of the ship’s docking bay, accompanied by four burly-looking Spacers. They glowered aggressively at Dave and the first group through the airlock, but their expressions grew more and more concerned as others joined them. They clearly felt outnumbered.

Manuel introduced Dave to the Captain. As they shook hands, Dave asked Grassby about the Sergeant-Major’s knife and similar items. The Captain thought for a moment, then nodded. “Anything like that can be checked into the ship’s safe. You’ll get them back when you disembark. No electromagnetic or beam weapons, though.”

“Fair enough, Sir. Thank you for understanding.”

“Thank you for being reasonable. I must admit, I wasn’t at all sure about having a group of armed men aboard this ship, particularly when we don’t have either the weapons or the training to stop you if you tried to take over. Frankly, it’s only because Manuel vouched for you that I was willing to take the risk. I hope this turns out to have been worth all the trouble my crew and I have been through.”

“I think it will, Sir. I know you’re being well paid for this, but even apart from that, we’re all personally grateful to you for giving us a chance to get our evidence to the United Planets. It’s our only hope of getting some sort of justice for all those who’ve died on Laredo.”

“I hope you succeed. Now, I’m going to get us the hell out of here! The Bosun,” waving a hand to one of the four with him, “will show you to an empty berthing compartment. It has only eight cabins and there are sixteen of you, so you’ll have to pair up and hot-bunk for the duration of our journey to New Brisbane – or sleep on the floor, because I see you have bedrolls with you. The eight cabins share a common fresher. Please come to the bridge once you’ve stowed your gear. I want to hear more about what’s been going on.” He turned to his crewmen. “Bosun, leave a Spacer with them to escort Captain Carson to the bridge. Collect any knives and personal items they want to put in the ship’s safe.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

“May I bring Manuel and one of our shuttle pilots to the bridge with me, please, Sir?” Dave asked, thinking to himself,
It might help Tony if I can keep him busy.

“Yes, that’ll be OK.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As they gathered up their personal gear to follow the Bosun, Tamsin asked, “Help me with this, please, Dave?”

“Sure.” He picked up the thick, heavy bundle she handed him, then stopped short as he recognized the way it felt in his arms. “This is my ganiba pelt! It’s heavier than I remember, though.”

“It sure is, honey. I put it in the shuttle when you weren’t looking. I figured you deserved at least one decent souvenir of Laredo.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Your civilian rifle and gunbelt are inside it. I don’t think they’re classified as weapons on many planets nowadays, because hardly anyone uses such old technology. I figured you’d like to keep them.”

He laughed aloud as he hugged her. “What would I do without you?”

Smiling, they followed the others.

March 31st 2850 GSC, 10:30

ARENA

Lieutenant Yazata ducked as the burst ricocheted off the wall above, flattening herself even harder against the floor behind the water cooler, nestling her eyes into the crook of her arm to protect them from the spray of plascrete chips and dust. As soon as the patter of debris had stopped she peered around the base of the cooler, trying to locate the source of the incoming fire. It was hard to see anything clearly through the haze of smoke and pulverized plascrete dust that hung in the air throughout the sports team facility.

In the changing-room behind her General Huvishka was finishing work on the Satrap’s ankle. As she glanced over her shoulder at them, she inwardly gave thanks to whatever Gods there were that the stadium was equipped to stabilize broken limbs and other injuries prior to transporting players to hospital. The Satrap had been in agony until the General had administered a nerve-block anesthetic. He hadn’t been able to hold back a whimper of relief as the block had taken effect, even as the General studied the instructions on the inflatable cast and muttered, “Damn these new-fangled models! What was wrong with the old ones that we all understood?” She hadn’t been able to suppress a chuckle, and he’d grinned wryly at her before going to work. Even with the anesthetic, the Satrap had bitten his lip as his broken ankle was straightened as gently as possible, placed in the cast, then swaddled in bandages to protect both ankle and cast from debris.

She ducked again as another burst of enemy fire screamed down the passage. This time she thought she saw a flicker of movement behind a bench set against a wall thirty meters away, near the exit door. She lined her rifle, held her breath to steady her aim, and spaced three rapid rounds across it, shooting through the imitation wood. A cry of pain rewarded her efforts.

“Nice shooting!” the General praised from behind her as he straightened. He looked across to an open door from which came hammering, crunching noises and called softly, “Is it open yet?”

“Still trying, Sir!” a guard replied from the other room, desperation in his voice.

“Well,
try harder,
dammit!” Huvishka glanced at the Crown Prince, who was backed into a corner with two members of the Satrap’s Guard planted firmly in front of him. “You all right, Your Highness?”

“I suppose so,” came the shaky reply. Fear was a ragged edge underlying the young man’s tone, but she could hardly blame him for that. He wasn’t a military man, after all. He’d held up better than she expected after initially freezing in shock, as anyone might have done under the circumstances –
including me, until the General bowled me over,
she silently admitted to herself.

“We’ll get out of here as soon as we can break through that internal partition. Damn the builders for doing such a good job! Couldn’t they have been sloppy for once, and not put in so much bracing and reinforcement and sound-proofing?”

The Prince’s guards grinned. One called, “At least it’s not plascrete, Sir.”

“Yes, we should be thankful for that, I suppose.” The General picked up his rifle, one he’d taken from a fallen guard a few minutes earlier.

Yazata tensed as a hand appeared around the corner of the passage up ahead and rolled a small round object towards her.
“Grenade!”
she shouted, and thrust her rifle into the passage like a baton to stop the rolling object then flick it back up the corridor. It hadn’t returned more than a few meters towards where it had appeared before it exploded with a deafening roar, scattering fragments of its casing in all directions. She cursed as one sliced through the skin of her forearm, making a nasty gash that instantly began to well with blood. Another cut across her calf, producing more gore.

One of the Prince’s guards saw her plight and dashed forward to tap her ankle. “I’ve got it, Lieutenant. Get those wounds dressed, quick!”

She wriggled backwards, letting him take her place. As soon as she was out of the line of fire she stood, leaning her rifle against a chair. The General was ready with a pair of scissors to cut off the sleeve of her shirt and the lower leg of her uniform trousers. He cleaned the wound areas with disinfectant wipes, then sprinkled a powder into them that contained clotting agent, a painkiller and nanobiotics.

“You missed your calling, Sir,” she said shakily. “You make a really good medic.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment under the circumstances,” he retorted with a grin. “I prefer being a General, though!” He placed absorbent pads over the wounds, then wrapped her arm and leg in bandages and clipped them in place. “That’ll have to do until we can get you to a doctor. Can you still walk and fight?”

She flexed her arm experimentally and put weight on her leg. “Yes, Sir. These are just flesh wounds.”

The Satrap had watched from his chair. “You were on the reviewing stand with us,” he recalled, his voice still a little hoarse from the pain. “Who are you?”

“This is Lieutenant Yazata of my staff,” General Huvishka introduced her. “She’s done yeoman work for Your Majesty this morning. It was her warning about falling debris that allowed us to get off the stand so fast. Those who moved more slowly… well, they’re still out there.”

The Satrap winced. “So she’s why you threw me off the stairs and broke my ankle?” There was a ghost of a smile on his face as he glanced at the General. “I suppose I shouldn’t complain, considering the alternative.” He turned back to her. “You’re certainly fighting like a tigress for me now.”

He looked around the room. “All of you are to bear witness if necessary. I award to General Huvishka, that Captain who held the corridor for us earlier…”

“That was Captain Dehgahn,” Huvishka interrupted.

“Thank you, General. To you, to Captain Dehgahn, to Lieutenant Yazata, and to all my guards who made it off the reviewing stand and helped to protect us in here, I award the Star of Bactria for utmost heroism in defense of your Satrap and Crown Prince. If I don’t survive, those of you who do are ordered to report these awards to the appropriate authorities for action.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the General replied formally. “I hope you’ll be able to act on it yourself.”

“As a matter of fact, so do I!” His sally was greeted with shaky laughter from the guards. “Apart from rewards, there’s also going to be punishment for some. I now see what you meant about wanting a full inquiry into the Security Service’s activities here. If they provided no warning whatsoever about an attack this big, there’s clearly something very wrong indeed. Heads will roll, I promise you!”

A ripping, rending crash came from the other room, followed by a triumphant cry. “I’m through, Sir!”

“Good man!” The General slung his rifle across his back, then turned to the Crown Prince. “Help me carry your father. These others will cover us, then fall back to join us.”

The younger man came forward, linking his hands and forearms with the General’s to make a seat for his father, who supported himself with his arms around their necks. They carried him through to the next room, where she heard them muttering and cursing as they negotiated the newly-broken-down partition between it and the administrative suite on the far side of the wall. After a few seconds she heard the General call. “We’re through! You’re next!”

“You go first,” she told the guard behind her. He didn’t argue, but disappeared through the door as she tapped the ankle of the man lying on the floor. He looked up. “I’m going to take up a standing position in that doorway,” and she nodded to it. “While I cover the corridor, you crawl through low down so you don’t get in my line of fire. Go through the hole in the wall, then take up a high cover position while I come through low in my turn. Got it?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

She thought she saw a flicker of movement as the guard crawled past her knees, and fired six rapid shots, spacing them across the corridor, to discourage any attempt to close with them. Another scream of pain proved she was on target. As soon as the guard called “Ready, Ma’am!” she scuttled across the inner room, bending low, and eased through the splintered hole, cursing as sharp edges scratched her skin through what was left of her shirt and trousers. The General and Crown Prince had already carried the Satrap out of the room. She followed them as another guard took station next to the one who’d preceded her through the hole. She quailed inwardly as she suddenly realized there were only three guards left.

The General glanced at her as she entered the foyer of the office suite. Its door to the parking lot outside was still closed and locked, but through its glass panes they could see craters across the black surface, debris scattered around, and smoke rising from damaged vehicles. A few uniformed soldiers were alertly scanning the area. Their uniforms were faded and well-worn, but their weapons were clean and ready for use.

“Rebels,” the General said succinctly, jerking his head at them. “Thank heaven whoever designed this suite specified one-way glass for the external doors and windows!”

The Satrap nodded. “I nearly had a heart attack when you carried me through here. One of them was looking right at us through that big cracked window. It was only when he turned away that I realized he couldn’t see us.”

“Why haven’t they tried to get in?” Yazata wondered.

“They don’t suspect anyone’s in these offices,” Huvishka said. “They must – ”

He was interrupted by a flash of light outside, almost as if a photographer had taken a picture with the aid of a lighting unit. They all blinked.

“What was that?” the Crown Prince asked.

Yazata hurried over to the window. All the soldiers in the parking lot were looking upward, pointing, exclaiming, high-fiving each other. She followed their gaze and saw a small bright ball of light very high above, fading from white into yellow and orange as she watched. She described it to the others, frowning in puzzlement.

Huvishka snapped, “That’s the space station! It has to be. The rebels have destroyed it!”

They all goggled at him. The Satrap found his voice first. “But – but
how?
How could they get up there? They don’t have spacecraft! And how could they destroy something so big?”

“I don’t know how they did it, Sir, but look at the reaction of those rebels out there. They’re excited, congratulating each other. This wasn’t a surprise to them – they were expecting it. What’s more, if the light came from a fireball it was probably a nuclear weapon exploding far outside atmosphere. We know the Laredans had a few nuclear demolition charges to deal with asteroids or other space threats. My predecessor reported they’d all been disposed of by the enemy to prevent us capturing them. Having seen that flash, I now suspect he was… optimistic in his report. I think we’ve just seen one of them being used – and if they’ve used one, how many more do they have?”