"Two down now, Chu-sa," she replied, eyes flicking between his face and the angle of the corridor she could see. "Their blood will be up. N is high."
Hadeishi nodded. Fleet training assumed every operational plan would reach a point of failure at an indeterminate point of time offset from the 'go' moment. The possibility of failure was termed "n", which began accumulating even before operational kickoff. Some planning officers believed n accumulated for individuals as well — eventually your day came and there was nothing you could do to erase the failure-debt you'd accumulated. "Clavigero — suppress the backside corridor. Felix — exit options?"
The heicho dragged out her handheld, scanning through the level schematics. Outside, there was a sharp coughing sound as the Marine in the passageway fired two RSM rounds down the main corridor toward the galley. Hadeishi could hear men shouting in the distance, but their voices were drowned out by a heavy whoomp-whoomp!
"We're backed up against a bulkhead here, kyo." Felix pointed at the rear wall. "But both sides lead into other compartments… What's he got?"
Hadeishi rolled the unconscious miner over. His name tag read GEMMILSKY and the tag for his ship department indicated he was a system tech. Eyes narrowing in consideration, Hadeishi rose, stepping to the miner's computer display.
"Ship's librarian," he said slowly. "Maratay — get the relay over here and jack in. Felix, we need some breathing room."
"Hai, Chu-sa!" Felix signed to Tonuac. The Zapotec craned his head to look outside, muttering under his breath to Clavigero. The Marine out in the hallway replied, but Hadeishi was concentrating on disassembling the desk. Maratay reached in, handing him a spare multitool and between the two of them they had the tabletop unscrewed as fast as humanly possible.
"Susan," he said, stripping a dust cover away from the comp unit hidden in the desk, "get Smith on this circuit. We need to break into their shipside comm."
Understood. A soft chime sounded as the midshipman came on channel. Standing by.
Hadeishi identified the comm interface and Maratay handed him a cluster of adhesive leads. Been a long time since I had to do this, Mitsu thought, his thoughts blurring into action as quickly as he could find the circuit ports and nudge the leads into place.
Under the watching snout of Felix's Whipsaw, Tonuac darted out from the door and across the passageway to the opposite bulkhead. Parts of the deck and junction facing were on fire, spilling a bitter, acidic smoke into the air. The intruder alert continued to blare, now joined by the honking of a fire alarm. The hallway leading toward the galley billowed with sleepgas from Clavigero's RSM rounds. Tonuac's visor adjusted automatically, shifting into multispectrum range. The resulting gray-tinted image showed him unconscious men scattered in the corridor. No one seemed to be moving that way.
"Mop up," he hissed at Clavigero, waving the Marine toward the ready room. "Sureshot, remember. Use tanglewire."
As the private loped off into the smoke, Tonuac glanced over at Felix, received the go-ahead and plucked a spare-eye from his belt. Sliding the hair-thin video camera around the corner, he watched the feed on a heads-up inside his visor. The enemy was gathering — the two men Clavigero had knocked down were gone, dragged away — and at least twenty miners were crouched along the walls. They had an amazing number of weapons to hand — but Tonuac didn't see a single man with a rocket launcher or in armor.
"Waited too long, my friends." Tonuac laid the eye down on the floor so it could continue to transmit. He checked to make sure his shipgun was set to fire RSM, caught Felix's eye — she nodded, the Whipsaw raised — and poked the muzzle around the corner.
Instantly, the air curdled with the snap-snap-snap of beam pistols. The wall beside his head blew apart as plastic and light metal atomized. Tonuac felt the shockwave slap his shoulder and neck, but the absorptive composite of his suit shrugged the blow aside. His shipgun coughed twice and he scuttled back before someone hit him with something big enough to punch through his armor. Felix waited for him to clear her line of sight, then overhanded a tanglewire grenade into the adjoining corridor.
The whoomp-whoomp of the RSM rounds detonating amid the miners was drowned by a chorus of exited yelling. More thick gray smoke flooded the passage, disguising the detonation of the tanglewire. The grenade bounced once and then shattered. Thousands of monofilament spools unwound at near-supersonic speed. Adhesive thread-ends blew in all directions and dug deep into the bulkheads, overhead and deck on impact. Within six seconds the corridor was blocked by a misty, half-seen web of magnetically active wire. Wherever the strands touched they adhered and fused solid.
The tone of the fire alarms changed, dropping in urgency. Flame suppression foam flooded from vents in the ceiling, smothering the fires licking along the walls.
Tonuac held position, waiting for Clavigero to return. On general principles, he fired an RSM round down the other branch of the main hallway. More sleepgas and smoke billowed up, making sight difficult for anyone not already in combat armor or using goggles tuned to the 'clear' wavelengths designed into the Imperial smoke.
"Four minutes at the most, Chu-sa," Felix reported, watching the v-feed from the spare-eye. The miners were milling about, confused by the smoke. Some of them had fallen down, overcome by the gas.
"Get me a directory." Hadeishi attached the last of the relay leads to the desk. Now the local network could be directly accessed by the Cornuelle. "And update our floorplans if you can."
Understood. Smith's voice was already distracted, concentrating on overwhelming the refinery ship's security systems. Five minutes.
"Maratay — we need a way out." Hadeishi consulted his handheld, then pointed at the upship-side bulkhead. "Through there."
The Marine nodded, slinging his shipgun. Between the two of them, they ripped away racks of data packs and printed books to get at the wall. Maratay dug into a thigh pouch and produced a reel of cutting gel. Hadeishi stood back, letting the private sketch the outline of a door.
"Kyo — they've seen the tanglewire." Felix was still watching the corridor. Her chrono was spinning, counting the seconds. "Someone's taken charge — they're falling back with a guard left behind. They'll flank us left, right, up, and down."
"Smith-tzin?" Hadeishi started to scan through the schematics of the level above and below their position. They were inside the main hab area, which meant the overhead — in particular — was the deck of the room above. Their own floor lay atop a maze of service ducts.
Working…the midshipman replied. We have comm access. And registry information.
"Master's name?" Hadeishi crouched down, turning away from the upship-side wall. Maratay knelt as well, then triggered the electrostatic charge in the gel. Felix, still covering the outside passage, didn't even flinch as the bulkhead ruptured with a rippling, strobe-bright wham-wham-wham!
Ketcham, Tristan, R. Born Chatham, Duchy of Kent, Lower Skawtland, forty-three years old… Kyo, he's ex-Fleet! Discharged nine years ago.
"Clear," Felix barked and Maratay knocked the broken section of wall into the next compartment. Hadeishi waited for the Marine to sign the room was safe, then ducked through the opening. The new compartment was filled with racks of comp equipment. Some of it was on fire, ignited by the blast. "Tonuac, Clavigero — let's go!"
Hadeishi stood aside, away from the burning equipment, while Felix slid into the room, her Whipsaw drifting from side to side, a tireless shark. "Smith, pull his service record. I need reason for discharge. And get me those deck plans."
Working.
Tonuac bounced in, his armor spattered with smoking, still-molten plastic. Maratay and Felix were already at the far side of the room, trying to clear racks of equipment away to get at the wall. In the first room, Clavigero darted in and spun into cover. Stabbing bolts of beam weapon fire followed, setting the walls alight again. The Marine found a refractive grenade on his belt, pitched the stubby cylinder into the passage and rolled forward through the breach in the wall.
&nbs
p; Another crump! followed and the main passageway filled with a cloud of metallic flakes.
Nozzles opened in the overhead of the equipment room and Hadeishi's environment sensor started to squeak about lethal levels of carbon monoxide outside his suit. Ignoring the alert, the chu-sa strode to the far end of the room. "We've got to go up," he snapped at Felix. "Schematic says there's a laundry on the other side of that wall on this level. We'll never get through."
Susan's voice interrupted his train of thought. Kyo, we have a tap on their shipside comm. Ketcham took a voluntary discharge after being denied promotion to command rank. Hadeishi heard a pause in her voice, and guessed the rest even before she continued in a clipped, angry voice. He filed a letter of protest with Fleet, claiming a Mйxica officer of lesser demonstrated ability received command of the heavy cruiser Dundee in his stead. Thai-sa Four-Mountain was named as the other officer.
"Understood." Hadeishi understood perfectly. He'd even met the captain of the Dundee once. A fine example of the high-clan patronage endemic to Imperial capital ship squadrons. Four-Mountain wasn't a bad commander today, but he would have been very, very inexperienced nine years ago. Probably best suited for an exec's slot, not an actual Fleet command. For an aggressive commander, for a man wanting to make his life in the Fleet, being passed over in such an obvious way would have been hard to swallow. Ketcham was neither the first nor the last officer who'd left the service after being snubbed in favor of someone closer to the Seven Hundred Clans.
While he was thinking, Felix and Tonuac had made a hand-and-hand brace. Maratay climbed up, bracing one leg in their grasp and the other against a rack-array of data packs. The little Rajput drew a fresh circle of cutting gel on the ceiling.
"Wait one," Hadeishi said to Felix after Maratay dropped down to the deck again. "Stand by. Smith — patch me onto the shipside comm, direct channel to Ketcham if you can pick out his ident code."
There was a pause. Things seemed to have quieted down outside. Mitsu presumed this meant the miners were preparing to attack their position by some means. He unsealed his sidearm holster.
You are in-circuit, Susan said and a confused babble of voices flooded Hadeishi's earbug.
"Not here, Paulson," Ketcham barked, turning on the riggers crowding the hallway behind him in their z-suits, gloves clutching beam cutters and wrenches. "Go round to the 6-D gangway and up to level thirty-six. Secure the rooms above the 78-H junction and make sure they don't burn through the roof and move up a level."
Confused but spoiling for a fight, the riggers turned around and ran off down the passage.
The refinery captain swore to himself, peering around the corner into the H-port-side hallway. A round dozen crewmen were at his side, most armed with sidearms or beam cutters, though none of them were in armor. The passageway ahead was entirely choked with clinging black smoke. There was no sign of the tanglewire blocking crossway 78.
Ketcham grabbed the nearest shift leader. "Termovich, send a runner to get me a handheld. We need plans of this level and all the rooms. Leave two men forward here on watch and then fall back a frame — and send someone else to get pressure masks or even z-suits if they can find them."
Men melted away from the gang of miners, eager to make themselves useful and get away from the sound of the guns. Ketcham ran a hand through thick blond hair, thinking furiously. He figured they'd already exhausted the day's ration of luck by having him within shouting distance of the firefight when it started. Hardly anyone else aboard had any military experience, though you couldn't deny they were game for a fight.
"No heavy weapons inside," he muttered, "barely anything like combat armor. Miners, technicians, shuttle pilots… Termovich, where's the nearest emergency engineering panel?"
"Back two frames, sir." The Novoya Rossiyan looked scared to death, which only mirrored Ketcham's own gut-twisting fear. Someone — Company mercenaries? Pirates? — had entered his ship undetected, in combat suits and armed to the teeth. Tanglewire and RSM rounds didn't come cheap. But what could they want? To steal the whole ship? Why sneak aboard?
"Get over there right now and drop the bulkheads all round this section and on the level above and below. We'll seal 'em off."
Captain Ketcham? An unknown, unfamiliar voice intruded. Ketcham started and stared around before realizing the voice was coming from his earbug. There is no reason for further conflict.
"Who the hell is this?" Ketcham's bellow caught Termovich by surprise, but the Rossiyan bolted away from the captain's volcanic glare. "Identify yourself!"
Chu-sa Mitsuharu Hadeishi, IMN Cornuelle, at your service.
"Fleet?" Ketcham's voice choked in astonishment. Then his brain — which seemed to have stumbled into tar — kicked into gear. He slapped his comm unit, scrambling the channel. "Override six-twenty-six," he shouted, desperate for even ten seconds of clear air. "Bridge, this is Ketcham. A Fleet Marine assault team has entered the ship. Lockdown all levels and accessways, seal the bridge and — "
None of this is necessary, Captain Ketcham. I need to speak with you directly, but I mean you, your ship and your men no harm. The quiet, reasonable voice had cooled slightly.
Ketcham found his sidearm in his hand — a silver-chased Webley 220 with an over-and-under magazine — and reflexively cycled a round into the firing chamber. The safety unlocked and the see-through-shoot-through sight activated. The board of directors had presented the pistol to him last year, a custom model from Toporosky and Sons gunsmiths. A small token of appreciation for four years of profitable service. A corner of his mind — a part long neglected, but not entirely atrophied from disuse — calculated he would need to be within fifteen meters for the depleted uranium rounds to penetrate a Fleet combat suit.
"You've killed three of my men already," he growled into the comm. "My ship is on fire. You're not making yourself welcome!"
If any of your men died, Captain, I apologize. My Marines have been firing solely RSM and knockdown rounds. I admit an eyesocket hit might kill a man, but that is not our intent.
"What do you want?" Ketcham stared down the back corridor, silently pleading for Termovich to hurry or the bridge to react to his override command. To his great relief, a distant banging sound echoed down the hallway and the lights flickered. The fire alarm cut off and was replaced by the shrill honking of a ship-wide red alert. "Finally!"
I am coming out into the hallway, the voice said, apparently unaware of the bulkheads sliding closed amid flashing lights and the drone of the alarms. I will be unarmed. There is a matter we must discuss. Tell your men to hold fire.
"What?" Ketcham turned, surprised. "What did you say?"
"This is necessary," Hadeishi said to Felix, gently moving the Marine aside. The heicho looked gut-shot, speechless, alarmed, and outraged all at once. The chu-sa drew his sidearm and spun the gun round so the barrel was firmly in hand. "Susan, status please?"
We're going to lose hardline, she replied, her voice sounding as tense as Felix looked. The bulkhead doors are dropping all over the ship. The line might handle one kink, but not sixteen.
"Alternate comm?" Hadeishi stepped to the door of the compartment and pressed the access plate. The door did not move. The chu-sa frowned, realizing the puncture alert had sealed all of the compartment doors even as the bulkheads in the pressure frames were coming down. He looked sideways at Maratay and raised an eyebrow. The Marine jumped as if struck across the face and rushed to swipe cutting gel around the doorframe.
Smith has a hunter loose in their system. I'll let you know when — sqqqwk!
"The hardline is down." Hadeishi turned away from the door, clasping his hands behind his head. Gel volatilized in a rippling streak of fire. Debris rained against Mitsu's suit and smoke coiled past. "Heicho Felix, deploy to hold this block of rooms. The Cornuelle will attempt to restore communications through alternate means. No one — no one — is to open fire without my express order, no matter what happens outside."
The woman nodded, nervou
sly cycling the Whipsaw into firing position.
Hadeishi stepped through the opening into a hallway choked with smoke. The refraction grenade's payload had mostly settled from the air, leaving the floor covered with drifts of shiny metallic glitter. There was fire suppression foam everywhere, dripping from the walls and pooling on the ground. The smoke itself was separating out into oily layers as he walked out into the middle of the cross-corridor and emerged from the fog into sight of the miners.
One of the miners squeaked like a startled rat and his beam-pistol flared. Hadeishi was facing the weapon straight on, his hands wide, his sidearm extended on his middle finger. He saw a discharge corona blossom in the microsecond before his visor polarized and felt the beam glance from his left shoulder.
The snap of the ionizing beam rocked the hallway. Hadeishi staggered, nearly thrown down by the hit. A section of articulated armor plating on his shoulder glowed white hot for a moment, then the surface ablated away, shedding shell-like layers of composite destroyed by the beam. Suit chillers kicked in, bleeding away the heat, and the molten spot began to fade.
"I am unarmed," he announced, voice echoing from the suit's speaker, and tossed the sidearm to the floor. The gun made a clanking sound — very loud in the sudden, shocked silence — and fell over on its side. "I need to speak with Captain Ketcham urgently."
One of the men in the crowd — flattened against the wall, watching him over the muzzle of a massive handgun — twitched and Hadeishi turned slightly to face him. The man — the captain, Mitsu realized, spying rank decorations on a dark-blue uniform with red and gold piping — was tall and broad, easily a foot taller than the Nisei, with wavy blond hair and deep-set, narrowed blue eyes.
The very image of our ancient enemy, Hadeishi thought, continuing to walk forward.
"Stop right there!" Ketcham moved forward, the miners around him — most of them technicians and machine operators, if Mitsu was any judge of their work clothing and departmental insignia — shrinking back to make way. The gun centered on his breast did not waver. "I'll accept your surrender, Nisei, and we can discuss whatever you want once you're in the brig."
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