Keiron stared at the display. “They’ve transferred him. Are any of his escort with him?”
“They are all present, Commander.”
“Good.” Keiron paused. “I just hope they can get him out of there again—I don’t want to have to tell the Admiral that his nephew—”
“Lucanes knows what is required, Commander,” Ramgis interjected. “He reports there is a human ship docked in the Charonian ship. It entered the dock just after the Commander’s shuttle docked.”
“Does he give any readings on it? Show me what you have.”
“It has an unusual profile and uses stealth technology.”
Keiron studied the data. “Damn, I’ve seen something like that before.” He called to a TechRate. “Run a search in our records for a similar profile to this.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The TechRate entered a string of commands. “Profile coming up, sir. Registered as a yacht, but she’s got some add-ons that look like weapons.”
“What name is she registered under? Owner?”
“Registered as the Dee-Jinn, sir. Mr. Kharim Al-Khalifa is recorded as the owner.”
“Dee-Jinn? Is it spelled D-j-i-n-n?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, well.” Keiron drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Get me a coms link to Commodore Roberts.”
Chapter 30
Into the Valley of Death
_________________________
Kharim Al-Khalifa was angry, but only those who knew him very well would have been able to tell. His identity as Zorvan had been exposed. So had every other member of the organisation. Even worse, Vizaresha hadn’t carried out his instruction to terminate Kali, and now both of them were stuck on a damned hospital ship full of refugees. It was inconvenient, but enough money in the right hands would soon solve most of it. In the meantime, he would have those in possession of this knowledge dealt with.
“As soon as we are clear of this ship, I need to rendezvous with Kali,” he instructed his yacht captain via his comlink. “Advise her that I will require her coordinates.”
He listened to the acknowledgement and increased his pace.
Incredible, these Charonians had perfected a way to perpetuate themselves using host bodies of compatible species, and had created the most incredible alloys and metallurgical technology; yet, for all their expertise, they had only the crudest of AI computers with which to control their ships.
Powerful, yes, fast, certainly, complex and efficient, but crude. He smiled. Well, this was their problem. That helmet they’d fitted to Heron was effective, he had to admit, and the secret of the alloys they had exchanged in return for his delivery would make him a fortune once he was able to change his identity and emerge from hiding. Some people thought of wealth as money or valuable metals and gems, but he didn’t. These alloys would bring even his current enemies running to buy them.
Something brushed against him as he turned a corner. Instinctively he leapt aside and drew a weapon. The plasma burst hit something well short of the wall. He didn’t stop to see what it was but ran for the hangar access and his yacht. His lightning reflexes almost saved him a second time when a huge paw seized his arm, wrenched the projector weapon from his grasp, and slammed him against the bulkhead.
He moved to grab his second weapon, but the Canid rendered him helpless and unconscious before Zorvan could complete that thought. Pack Leader Lucanes surveyed the unconscious figure and growled a question to his fellow Canid. “Are you hurt, Uranak?”
“No, Pack Leader, though my cloak is destroyed.”
“This human armour works then. Use one of the spares. Let Kenza assist you to secure this one’s ship. We will find the Commander.” He stirred the unconscious assassin with his foot. “Zamliy, Bron, secure this human and conceal him until I tell you otherwise.”
With the helmet deactivated, Harry tried to make sense of the computer he could hear. His escort seemed unaware that the helmet was not active, which made him feel more confident. Knowing the Canid team were also aboard gave him hope that he might survive this reasonably unscathed. Stripped of the EVA suit, almost naked and locked into a sort of vertical frame, he was anything but comfortable. Around him monitors hummed and displayed incomprehensible symbols and glyphs while a team of the aliens examined him. They ran a medical scan and checked his torso, his heart and his lungs. The slightly sulphurous odour they emitted didn’t make him feel any better about it.
On the way to this chamber, they passed many more of the creatures and a few who appeared to be semi-human. At least their skin and colour were more human and so were their facial features and limbs. Their eyes were universally blood red, and all showed at least some deformity of the skull at the temples. Listening to the computer he began to make sense of the commands and sub routines. Experimentally he picked one set of regularly repeating routines and inserted a small variation every thousandth run.
Now he would wait to see what happened.
The creature in charge indicated a change of procedure. He gave an order, and the frame rotated to a new position.
Harry wondered if he could extricate himself from it, but then the lights went out. All the monitors blanked as well, causing exclamations of alarm all round him. Without warning, the lights came back at an intensity that made Harry shut his eyes against the brightness. Even through the narrow slit in the helmet it was dazzling. Screams and exclamations of pain suggested his attendants found the sudden change agonising. He checked his code in the computer and grinned before he quickly suppressed his mirth.
The leader issued a torrent of commands which sent the other figures rushing to restore equipment and bring back data screens. Several operated the door. Harry tried to identify the door controls and commands. He focussed his attention on that task as several more creatures arrived, a human among them.
This time he was able to catch the door command routines and set these to automatic, ordering all the ship’s doors to open and close randomly. Then, feigning innocence, he activated the helmet again and listened through the control unit as the crew made increasingly frantic efforts to reverse his instructions. The lights failed again then flashed into full brilliance. To his surprise, all the creatures that had been in the laboratory with him were now on the floor in various positions that suggested violence had been done to them. Lucanes materialised next to him.
“Leader, we must leave. This ship will not survive your interference. Already it loses atmosphere. Where is your suit?”
The voice of Pack Leader Lucanes startled him. He fought to sound casual. “Really? I simply told it to open all the doors on a random pattern.” He paused. “Oh. I did not consider that. Surely the AI will not allow—”
“I do not think this ship is like ours. It does not think in the manner ours do.”
“Can you get me out of these restraints? I can’t find a way to release it in the computer.” He nodded toward another door. “They took my EVA suit through there.”
Lucanes operated the switches to release the cuffs that secured Harry. Nothing happened. “It appears there is a code to unlock the mechanism, Leader. Can you not operate it?”
Harry shook his head. “No. This system is extremely strange and it is now doing things I did not expect and cannot interpret. Is there no other interlock perhaps?”
“I do not see any other controls, Leader.” He moved out of Harry’s line of sight and examined something behind the device to which the frame was attached. “Perhaps we may release you by dismantling it.”
An alarm sounded in ear-splitting repetition.
“There is no time. Be still, Leader, I shall destroy it, then we may see.”
Before Harry could reply there was a brilliant flash and a loud report. Two more Canids appeared and tugged at the restraining cuffs. Slowly, and with some apparent reluctance, the restraints loosened and Harry was able to slip his arms free. A Canid ripped open a panel and short-circuited the controls. Harry’s ar
ms and torso were free, and only his ankles remained fixed to the frame.
He felt a little lightheaded and unsteady on his feet, as if he’d had one too many pints to drink, and the whole situation seemed overwhelmingly funny. Suddenly the atmosphere felt colder, and the lights went out again. The Canids went into a discussion of their own, then one attacked the back of the frame that held Harry. Several loud explosions rocked the compartment and the frame collapsed. The Canids grabbed Harry and crammed him into the EVA suit they had retrieved.
“Now, Leader, can you walk?”
“I think so.” He tried, lost his balance and stumbled to the floor where he lay giggling, splayed out in helplessness for a few moments. The impact shook some part of his senses back into awareness, and he sat up. “I think I’m suffering from oxygen depletion. Can you help me, Pack Leader?” Someone adjusted the oxygen flow in his suit and he breathed deeply, letting the life-giving gas filter into his bloodstream. His companions hauled him to his feet and hustled him through the sliding door, timing their escape with precision as it opened and closed at random intervals.
‘Zorvan’ Kharim Al-Khalifa was cold, angry and confused. He shook his head and took careful stock of his situation. He was in total darkness, and his hands were confined in some sort of device behind him. He was lying on the deck in what he hoped was not one of the implantation centres on this ship. Had his clients double-crossed him? He fought back his headache and focussed his thoughts. No, there had been no one else in the corridor. So what happened to him? Who attacked him?
A memory stirred. Had he caught a slight scent of…? He searched his memory. Dog? Impossible. Then his memory stirred again. Damn, was it one of those—what are they called—Canids? That’s it. Did some of them manage to get aboard? But how?
The lights flickered on.
He was in a small chamber that resembled a storeroom of some kind. Struggling to his feet, he made his way to the door. There was no handle and no control panel on this side.
He looked around again. There were things he might be able to use to escape, but first he needed to get his hands free. He was glad he kept himself in shape and flexible as he went through a number of contortions difficult even for someone in peak physical condition and training, and was rewarded at last by having his hands at his front. He was studying the manacles holding his wrists when the lights went out again. He let out a stream of curses. The lights returned, and he saw his chance—the manacles weren’t designed for use on a human. Now that they were in front of him he could manipulate them. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally worked one hand free. He tried the door. There was some initial resistance, but his anger and desire to survive gave him a surge of adrenaline, and the door slid open just enough for him to ease through the gap.
The corridor was dimly lit, but he could see his way. Something was very wrong with the ship. The temperature was falling, and the oxygen level with it. He oriented himself and set off in the direction of the landing dock and his yacht.
Harry, half carried by Lucanes and half walking, slowly regained the use of his limbs and his senses. “Where are we going, Pack Leader?’
“We secured a vessel for our escape, Leader. We go to where it waits.”
He thought about this. “Is it a human ship? I do not think we can master one of these Charonian ships in time to—.”
“It is a human ship. It belonged to the man that had you brought here.”
“Belonged?”
“I do not think he will need it now.”
The Pack Leader was wrong. Hidden in the shadows, Zorvan watched them pass. When he determined that they were far enough ahead, he followed, only slightly hindered by his survival suit, which he’d managed to get into after freeing himself from the restraints. He didn’t know how these Canids had got aboard, but they certainly weren’t going to leave, and neither was Heron.
“These damned fools are committing suicide.” Admiral Heron fumed as he read the latest demand from the man who called himself the Captain of Centaur. He lowered his tablet and looked at the Marine colonel seated further along the table. “What do you recommend?”
The Colonel leaned back. “I’d suggest we keep talking to them. We can’t send in a boarding party without risking multiple civilian deaths.” He shook his head in frustration. “By now, thanks to the damned media channels and their ‘broadcast and be damned’ policy, Kali, Zorvan and Vizaresha all know that we know who they are and where they are. So do their troops. Our people will be well able to take them out, but it will be messy—very messy.”
“You confirm my thoughts, Tim. Thanks.” The Admiral leaned on the table, his frown deepening. “I think our only option at this point is to accede to their demands, track them, and take action when we can minimise the risk of collateral damage.” He straightened. “With one small proviso. We’ll supply the weapons they ask for, but I want you to make sure we can neutralise them when we need to. Can it be done in a manner that they won’t be able to detect or negate?”
“Yes, sir. It can be done. I’ll get my weapons technician onto it.”
“Good, do that please.” The Admiral switched his attention to the Commander in charge of equipment supply. “They want some of our EVA suits and armour as well. Again, I want those suits rigged for single use.”
“Consider it done, sir,” said the Commander.
“Good. In other matters, the food they want isn’t a problem. Supply it.” He paused. “I want that damned ship tracked. These people have played us for fools, and we’ve responded like fools. I want to know where it goes, and then I want them brought to heel, with this Kali and the rest of them in court.”
The Charonian ship was in trouble, its systems failing as Harry’s inadvertent virus spread. The Canids added to the confusion by their discreet use of small demolition charges in shafts, service passages and any operating stations they could find. Now, on a signal from Lucanes, they returned to the hangar and the yacht their companions had secured.
Zorvan fumed as he trailed the party, moving from concealed space to concealed space with caution and skill. He recognised the figures around Harry. “Damned animals,” he spat in a silent curse. “How did they get aboard?” A shift of pattern opposite his hiding place drew his attention, but he couldn’t see anything when he focused his eyes at the spot. Alerted to something unknown now, he froze, cursing his lack of a weapon. A chill crept into his ironclad certainty of his abilities as a ‘soldier of fortune’ and an expert in his craft.
He had no experience dealing with these animals. He searched his memory for information. They were strong and agile despite their clumsy appearance, possessed of incredibly sensitive olfactory abilities, and very intelligent. Could they also be in possession of some technology that allowed them to hide in plain sight? A news item from the Consortium war came to mind. Yes. They used a cloaking garment that changed the refraction of light around them. He studied the wall opposite again. There was something there, and if it could conceal a Canid, it could conceal him.
A plan formed in his mind as he watched Harry and his group. He maintained some distance from them until they were almost out of sight. He’d have to hurry, but once he had that cloaking garment, he could catch up. Another movement caught his eye. Two Charonians were approaching, both armed and wearing breathing helmets. In this dim light, the Charonians would have an advantage, since their vision was in a range far lower than the human eye could see—but their helmets restricted their field of vision. A smile crossed his lips. An amazingly intelligent species, the product of transferring themselves to a new host body when one failed or could no longer adapt to their needs, they had never advanced or adapted a great deal of their technology from its origins. The pair were now between him and the place he thought might conceal a Canid.
He patted the zippered pockets of his suit to find something, anything to throw, and found a small canister that at one time contained a few survival biscuits. Those were actually q
uite tasty he remembered with a sardonic smile as he flung the canister in the direction where the Canid stood, as best he could surmise.
The canister struck something just short of the bulkhead then stopped in mid-air and vanished. The Charonians reacted but were too slow. The Canid materialised briefly, just long enough for his weapon to send out a bolt of plasma that felled the Charonians, and in that instant, Zorvan locked his arms around the Canid and wrestled for possession of the weapon.
The Canid was a small one but more than a match for any human in strength and agility. Zorvan had to use all his famous unarmed combat skills to avoid taking a serious injury. Then the Canid stumbled over one of the Charonians and lost its grip for a fraction of a second, but that was all Zorvan needed. With a desperate heave he completed the Canid’s fall, snatched the weapon and fired it, killing the target cleanly.
A quick check revealed no apparent pursuit, so he made a rapid examination of the corpse and found the cloak. He drew it around himself, aware as he did so that his own suit had been damaged in the fight. He cursed when he realised the cloak remained visible, and there wasn’t time to figure out why. He would have to obtain access to the yacht as soon as possible, but without the ability to make himself invisible.
He slinked along the corridor from shadow to shadow, aware now of an increasing number of Charonians hurrying toward the central core of the ship. These he dodged and avoided, cursing because he had now lost sight of Harry and his group. He found the access to the hangar and dodged through the airlock. The yacht was in sight, but the absence of bodies suggested that his men were either prisoners or dead. He didn’t really care which, but they would be useful when it came to taking back the yacht.
It appeared to be ready for launch, but the hatch was still open. The realisation of the reason bothered him: some Canids were still at large. He hurried forward. If he could get aboard, he might be able to deal with those already there and cut off the stragglers, preventing them from joining their companions. His senses tingling, he approached the yacht, using speed and what little cover there was to his advantage as he made for a second access airlock.
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends Page 28