“Sloan, as soon as we get word that we’ve taken out the ambushes on the way to the lab, you and six men get there. I want at least two bio-back suits – more if possible – and at least one full control system. You’ve got all the specs on your reader.”
“Why do you want them?” Davis asked. “Isn’t that wasting time?”
“What do you think that they – along with the doctors and their experience – will buy?”
Davis’s eyes widened. “If Burnett can set up an operation somewhere, she can train people in EVA repairs – even novices – quickly. That must be worth a lot to someone.”
Jensen smiled. “And that’s why we need a full system. We set it up for her; we know how to take it apart. Just get on it, ASAP.”
Davis picked his men, and they followed Innis out, ready to take advantage of him clearing the way.
Jensen picked up one of their two remaining pistols. “I’ve got this to do.”
“Here, Cutter.” Jensen gave the last one to Private Cutter. “You’re in charge of the defence. Make sure everyone has some sort of weapon.” He looked around as his people began bringing out items to use a clubs or thrusting devices. “Make every shot count,” he told Cutter, the best shot among them.
Satisfied that they could stand off an assault on their quarters – for a time, at least – he nodded.
Rogers needed to die. Jensen carefully went from corridor to corridor, edging ever closer to the room that Rogers used as his HQ. Finally, he saw it in front of him, one of the fanatics guarding the door.
He walked out in plain sight. The fanatic saw him, and moved forward.
“I hear Sergeant Rogers wants to see me,” Jensen said.
A cruel smile came to the man’s face, then his eyes went wide and he reached – too late – for his holster. Jensen shot him twice in the chest, picked up his gun and moved to the door. Another man opened it to see what had happened, and Jensen shot him, too. He kicked the door open and saw only one more man in there, headphones on, a map in front of him.
The man turned, a look of utter surprise and horror on his face. He didn’t get out a word. Jensen stripped the weapons off the dead after seeing that Rogers wasn’t around. The killer had probably decided to oversee – and engage in – some of the murders himself. He jogged back to their quarters, wondering where the hell Rogers might be.
* * *
The door chime rang. Dr Burnett stared at the door with suspicion. Her hand reached under her pillow to clutch the deadly little gun that Sergeant Jensen – she believed it had been Jensen, for who else might do it? – had smuggled in to her.
“Enter,” she called, hitting the switch that would unlock the door. She lay on her right side, facing the door, hand under the pillow.
Sergeant Rogers appeared in her door, and stood there, solid, menacing, looking at her with those flat eyes that showed no emotion.
“Yes, Sergeant?” she asked.
“Sergeant Jensen sent me to fetch you.”
She felt icy claws in her stomach. “He did? Whyever for? Is there a problem with the program? Can’t Dr Grant handle it?” Her hand tightened about the handle of the pistol, but her face betrayed not a whit of her discomfort. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
“No, it can’t,” Rogers said. “Get up and get dressed,” he ordered. “Now. He’s waiting.”
“Alright. Just give me a minute.” She grabbed the blanket with her left hand, then stopped, remembering something. “Who told the sergeant to send for me?”
Rogers stared at her. “I told you, Sergeant Jensen wants to see you. It’s my duty to see you come.”
The word struck her, though not so strongly as it had back in Denver.
“Very well, Sergeant,” Christy said, voice betraying annoyance. She threw the blanket and sheet aside, well aware that her nightwear wouldn’t prevent him from seeing through it to her body beneath, counting on that.
His eyes shifted for a second, and she sat, pulled out the pistol, and shot him twice through the body. The sound of the gunfire hurt her ears, but she ignored that. Rogers took two steps back, hitting the wall on the other side of the corridor. His eyes looked at her in disbelief, and his hand tried to unsnap his holster, but failed. “You?” he said as he slipped to the floor. “You?” Then his eyes went even flatter, and they moved no more.
She heard running footsteps. A man in uniform appeared, bent over the dead soldier, and then turned to her. He froze at the sight of her gun aimed at his chest.
“It’s started, Doctor,” Corporal Tieff said. “We haven’t much time. Sorry I’m late.”
“Who sent you?” she asked.
“Sergeant Jen–” he stopped. “Walker sent me to take you to Sergeant Jensen.”
With a shaky breath, Christy lowered her gun. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. Colonel Westorn has commandeered a shuttle. He took most of his super-soldiers with him. He left others to finish us off.”
“And him?” She pointed to Rogers.
“I don’t know. The Colonel sent him either to kill you or to take you to him. Come. We haven’t a lot of time. If he sent Rogers to take you to him, and you don’t arrive, he may send the rest of his troops after us. Hopefully, you and the rest are supposed to follow the colonel after they completed their mission – taking care of us.”
Heedless of the man in front of her, Christy set her pistol on the dresser, removed her nightwear and began to dress quickly. If Tieff noted that her hand never strayed far from her weapon, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he turned his attention to the corridor.
Christy finished dressing, fastened the belt with her datasticks about her waist, picked up her personal computer, and abandoned all her other possessions.
“Let’s go,” she said, adrenaline pumping through her system. Surely, someone else had heard the shots. But, no, this section belonged to Westorn, and only his men, she, and Arch occupied it. Tieff led her along corridors, with two men guarding her back, until they met with Sergeant Jensen and five of the participants in her experiments. To her surprise, but not shock, he wore body armour, and all carried weapons.
She looked around and saw Arch in a corner. He waved.
“What’s happening?” she asked Jensen.
“We’re not sure.” He turned to Tieff. “Corporal, see if you can get a line to a comm centre.” Tieff nodded and left them. “Any problems getting here?” he asked Christy.
It seemed he asked more out of politeness than interest.
“I killed Sergeant Rogers.”
Jensen’s eyebrows went up. “Did you?” He looked down at the gun she still held in her hand. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I don’t know. He told me that you had sent for me, but didn’t give the password. So, I shot him.” She thought back. “I didn’t like a lot of little things – how he stood, his eyes, his insistence – but I had no real reason to shoot. But I shot him twice in the chest – like I had done it a hundred times before. He died fairly quickly.”
Jensen pursed his lips. “The program informed you. You acted correctly. Somehow, they must have discovered what they thought was a link between us. He wasn’t about to let you go. He would have taken you to the good colonel. What did you tell him?”
Constant movement around her made her aware that the escape time had come. Men were packing cases, moving purposefully.
“Nothing. I acted as if I couldn’t understand why you might wish to see me.”
“Good, though it means little right now as I doubt he got word to Westorn before he died. Had he, we’d be under attack.”
“How could he?”
“He carried a communications device.” Jensen shrugged. He turned back to Tieff, who had reappeared.
“Colonel Westorn has just left with the shuttle,” Tieff reported.
Jensen nodded. “Left the doctors with us? Okay. Now we can move, too. We’re going to take another shuttle, and head for a ship. How many did Westorn lea
ve?”
“About a score. I think we may have missed two.”
She felt the tension up itself a bit. They had killed eighteen or more men? “Why?”
“They came after us. They didn’t think we would be ready.” He picked up a pack, and adjusted it on his back. “He left without you. That either means that he’s on a schedule, or he expects you and the others to follow him. Something big is happening, and I wish I knew what it was.”
Around her, the soldiers had begun forming up.
Jensen shoved something at her. An empty backpack. “I’ll send you and Dr Grant with six men. Pack, but pack light and pack quickly. How long will you need?”
She surprised him. “Ten seconds. Arch and I both have a ready-case. Actually, I have all I truly need on me.”
A slow smile came to Jensen’s face. “You’ll do, Doctor, you’ll do. But we can do better than that.”
“Better?” she asked.
“We’re taking some of your equipment along – enough to control at least a single bio-back suit. Oh, and we’re taking several of the suits. No use having one without the other.”
A warmth suffused her. Then her mind started working. “Why?”
“Your work has value. It could buy us all – you and Dr Grant included – space on a Family ship.”
“So, that’s where we’re going? What ship?”
“They have four in-system. Three near Station FTL-1, their old station, and one near their new station, which is closer to the moon than to us. We’ll try for one of the near-by ones. Maid Marion.” He switched his attention to Corporal Tieff. “Any word on the colonel?”
“Looks like he’s heading for Haida Gwaii, Sarge.”
Jensen swore. “Doctor, I’ll take you up on that ten-seconds. Sam, take our friends to get their luggage, then beat feet for the shuttle bay.” He raised his voice, “Everyone, listen up! Westorn’s heading for Haida Gwaii, the Family’s new station. I think you all know what that means. Our best chance for a free ticket is to help them. Any objections?”
No one spoke.
“Right. We have it to do. Move out. Tieff, go make sure we have our pilot.”
Christy picked up her ready case, and followed Private Sam Innis back to the rendezvous point. Then, together with Arch and the thirty-five soldiers, she walked down the back corridors to the shuttle bay. She didn’t ask what happened to the others; they were bound to have had casualties. There, they met Corporal Tieff. He had his weapon out, holding it on a man in a pilot’s jacket.
“Terry bailed on us, Sarge. This here’s Ken Nakamura. He has kindly offered to ferry us to wherever we wish to go.”
Nakamura looked down at the pistol in Tieff’s hand, then back up to Jensen. Jensen smiled.
“Offered, did he?”
Nakamura spat.
“Ken,” Tieff remonstrated. “Don’t be like that. You get us where we’re going, and the shuttle is yours to take yourself back wherever you want to go.”
Jensen saw the look Nakamura gave Tieff. “Corporal, I don’t think the man believes you. Mr Nakamura, the corporal speaks the truth. Now, who do you work for?”
Nakamura stood silent.
“Please, Pilot, surely that can be of little secrecy.”
The small pilot looked up at the tall American. “I am a member of the Nakamura Family. We do not take kindly to threats.”
Jensen’s face lit up. “A FTL pilot?”
“Yes.”
“That’s wonderful. We wish to go to Haida Gwaii to ask for sanctuary. You’ll know their private frequencies. We’ll need that.”
Nakamura’s eyes narrowed. “I will not take you.”
“Oh, I think you will – once we explain things.” He turned about. “Everyone, get on board. Ken, you, me, and the doctor here will be on the flight deck. Dr Burnett?”
Christy had watched the confrontation with wide eyes. She hadn’t expected they would kidnap anyone. Actually, she didn’t know what she expected – just that Jensen would have some sort of plan.
Tieff motioned with the gun, and Ken Nakamura reluctantly moved into the shuttle. He took the pilot’s seat. Jensen sat the copilot’s and Christy found herself behind the two in the navigator’s position – for times when the shuttle had need of such.
“Pilot,” Jensen said, “you look like a reasonable man. We’re not out to harm any of you or yours. However, you and yours are in great danger.” The smaller man’s eyes snapped to the Sergeant’s face. “Yes, a shuttle carrying soldiers has already left to attack your Haida Gwaii. So, we give you the choice: ferry us there so we can help your people, or ferry us to any one of your ships, where we will surrender ourselves to its captain.”
“And why should I do either?”
“We really don’t have time for this, but I guess we’ll have to make time. One reason: we have with us the good doctor behind you. You’ve heard of Dr Christine Burnett’s Language Learning Institute?”
He turned his head to look at her.
“Yes,” Christy said, “that’s me. I’ve advanced ‘Sleep Learning’ to a whole new level. I took a contract with the North American Armed Forces to develop a program which would allow soldiers who had no previous knowledge of a subject – such as changing a hyperspace field node in vacuum and zero-g – to be able to do such after a short ‘Sleep Learning’ course. You understand what that could mean for a damaged ship with injured crew, don’t you?”
“I can do that, now, almost in my sleep,” Jensen said. “A couple of weeks ago, I’d never even experienced zero-g.”
Nakamura’s eyes widened at the implications, then narrowed. “That would not necessitate invading our station or hijacking one of our ships.”
“We’re not the ones invading, Ken,” she protested. “However, I have the tech and the programs with me. I wish to sell it to your people for our passage.”
He didn’t look convinced.
Jensen took over. “Look, Ken, we’re not pilots. You can stop us anywhere – like a thousand kilometres from Haida Gwaii, and just let us sit here until we run out of air. But we must go. Now! And if that other shuttle makes it to Haida Gwaii without us warning them, it won’t be your station any longer.”
Christy could see him beginning to believe – just a little.
“Sergeant Jensen, give Ken your pistol.”
“What?” Jensen looked – and sounded – startled.
“Just do it. It’s of little use in here, anyway.”
Jensen handed over the pistol to the pilot. “Careful with that.”
“I’ve fired a pistol before, Sergeant.” He looked at it thoughtfully.
Christy took a deep breath. “Now, Ken, all the soldiers are strapped in, waiting. You can get out and run for help if you want, leaving us stranded here. We can’t stop you. If we’re lying to you, you can still fix it so we can’t get out of the shuttle – crash it into the Moon or something. If we’re telling the truth, however, you’ve little time to lose.”
The pilot looked at the gun again, and then handed it back to Jensen. “Strap in. I’m undocking ASAP.”
Jensen holstered the weapon, and nodded thanks to her before directing his attention forward.
“Topside One, this is Nakamura Shuttle Eight. I have an emergency package I must deliver to Family Trading Ship Venture. Awaiting permission to launch.”
Christy slumped back in her seat. They had done it. She heard the exchange between the pilot and the station, but allowed it to simply wash over her. She had done it! The jerk as the shuttle undocked and slipped away from the station brought her back.
“Venture?” Jensen asked.
“If what you say is true, the other shuttle will hear this. Do you want them to know that we’re heading for Haida Gwaii?”
Jensen nodded. “Good thinking, Mr Nakamura.”
“Ken,” the pilot corrected him. “If you are who you say you are, I’ll be happy to call you friend. If not, well, the familiarity will not cost me my soul.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you, Ken. I’m Frank Jensen. We’re who we say we are. I don’t know why Colonel Westorn wants to go to Haida Gwaii, but I’m betting that his reasons don’t include aiding the Family Trading League in any way at all.”
Ken looked at the instruments. “Yes, I see the other shuttle. Definitely heading for Haida Gwaii, Venture, or possibly the Moon. It’s about an hour ahead of us.” He watched for a moment, then gasped in surprise. “It’s in a hurry, still accelerating. That’s not right.” He turned on the InShip. “Prepare for acceleration.” Twenty seconds later the shuttle surged forward, pressing them all back in their seats.
An hour later, the burn stopped, and they floated free. Nakamura adjusted something and a moderate gravity drew them down into their seats.
“Better this way,” he said. “I’ll tell our passengers that they are free to use the facilities.” He toggled on the InShip and made the announcement.
Jensen peered at the screen. “They’re getting further ahead.”
“I know. But if I continue accelerating, I won’t have the fuel to stop at the other end. You picked a shuttle short of fuel.”
Jensen swore. “Can you open a private line to Haida Gwaii?”
“Not a good idea, Frank. If those boys are military, they probably have scanners that will detect our signal. And they may be able to decrypt any encrypted signal I send. No, not a good idea at all.” He toggled a switch. “Venture, this is Nakamura Shuttle-8, Ken Nakamura piloting.”
“Nakamura Eight, Venture. Go ahead Ken.”
“Message for your captain. I have her urgent package on board. ETA 42 hours. Have someone ready to take Matt’s portion over to him when I get there.”
“Copy that,” came a slightly puzzled voice.
“Good. Bettina caught me short on sleep, so I’m going to put my head down. Don’t call back unless it’s an emergency.”
They heard a laugh. “Roger that, Ken. See you in 42. Venture out.”
Ken turned to Jensen. “Well, that should get them thinking, at least.” He grinned. “And I wasn’t lying about putting my head down. I’m eighteen hours into my day as it is.” He fiddled with the detector for a moment, and then closed his eyes and lowered the back of his chair slightly.
Not With A Whimper: Destroyers Page 17