by Neil Hunter
“What he do?” the guard asked.
“Killed some police officers during a drug bust,” Janek said. “Left his partners to shoot it out while he ran. He’s a very unpopular guy. That right, Jack?”
The droid methodically processed the paperwork, ignoring the conversation going on around it.
“Son of a bitch,” the guard said. He eyed the mere. “He looks a mean mother, too.”
“You said it, Officer,” Janek responded. “This guy is so doped up, he doesn’t really need the shuttle. If you know what I mean.”
The mere strained against the cyborg’s tight grip on his arm.
“No way I’m goin’ in that shuttle. Look, Officer, these fuckers want to kill me. They already threatened me.”
“See what I mean?” Janek said. “To be honest, Officer, I’ll be glad when we get him off our hands. Let the security people handle him.”
“Your papers are all in order,” the droid said, handing them back to Cade.
The security man stepped back and opened the sliding door.
“Good luck,” he said as Cade and Janek ushered their prisoner through. The door slid shut with a soft thump.
Cade boarded the shuttle and checked it out while Janek dumped the mere in one of the launch couches and used the safety belts to secure him. Returning from closing the hatch, Cade bent over the mere.
“While we take off, I want you to consider your options. Play games with me, and I’ll shoot you out of the garbage disposal tube once we hit orbit. Give me what I want, and you could walk and take your chances with the cops. Right now I’m up against it, so I don’t have too much to lose. That means I’m prepared to forget this badge I’m wearing and do it the hard way. Your choice.”
Janek took the controls, coasting out to the launch pad. He locked on to the auto-ramp, allowing the computer-controlled launching sequence to initiate takeoff. As the shuttle was brought up to launch thrust, he ran an instrument and control check. Satisfied, he settled in his padded seat and waited.
The shuttle reached thrust speed. As the powerful engines kicked back into the scorched blast pit, the sleek shuttle burst free from the angled ramp and curved up into the gray, dawning sky. After two minutes the auto-signal passed control over to Janek, and he keyed in their course. Normally he would have enjoyed flying the shuttle manually, but he had other things to attend to.
“Thinking time’s over, Jack,” he said, standing over the strapped-down mere.
“The name’s Curtis, for Christ’s sake. Lon Curtis. Now what the hell are you bastards playing at?”
Chapter Thirteen
“Skylance. Skylance, answer me, Bridger. I know you’re there. Don’t fuck about. This is Curtis. Lon Curtis. Pick up the damn phone and speak to me!”
The vid-screen remained blank.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Bridger. I ain’t got the patience. Just talk to me, man. Stop playin’ with your new fuckin’ toy and talk to me.”
The screen fuzzed, then cleared to show the head and shoulders of a man dressed in a pressure suit.
“Took your time, didn’t you, Bridger?” Curtis snapped.
“The hell it is you, Curtis.”
“Who do you think it was—Buck Rogers?”
“You in that shuttle floating around outside?” Bridger asked.
“No, dumb-ass. I’m tap-dancing on the fuckin’ hull. Now shut up and listen.
“Rico and me got the shuttle port assignment. Cade and that Cybo partner showed up and took a shuttle up to Pegasus-2. We followed them up there and managed to get the drop on them, but not before they offed Rico. I got them back on a shuttle to bring back down, only the cybo went crazy on me. Said if he couldn’t get you guys alive, he’d ram you with the shuttle. Set the damn shuttle on a collision course with Skylance and put the motors on full burn. I had to blow him away to stop him. Only now I ain’t got enough juice in this damn thing to take me back down. Get me on board, Bridger.
I don’t like these shuttles. I got one dead cybo, and Cade strapped down in a chair. Pull me in, pal, and I’ll give you Rico’s half of the bonus old man Sinclair promised for whoever delivers Cade.”
“Let me see him, Lon,” Bridger demanded.
Curtis moved away from the vid-screen, pressing the button that opened the lens setting. The expanding picture showed Cade strapped down in one of the launch seats and Janek sprawled on the deck of the shuttle.
““Okay?” Curtis asked. “You want a souvenir tape of it all?”
“Half the bonus?” Bridger asked.
“Yeah.”
“Can you get that shuttle to the docking bay?” Bridger asked.
“I’ll manage it.”
Bridger nodded. “I’ll get the defense shield dropped for you. Don’t want my investment blowing away, do I?” he said, and broke the connection.
“You did that like you practiced all your life,” Janek said. He stood up and moved to unstrap Cade.
“With a gun at my back, what choice did I have?” Curtis asked sullenly.
Janek looked down at the auto-pistol he held. The vid-screen hadn’t shown the weapon directed at Curtis.
“I forgot I had this.”
“Yeah,” Curtis said. “And you wouldn’t dump me out the garbage chute, either? Now what?”
“We go and join your buddies,” Cade said, “as soon as you get the all clear.”
“If you expect them to quit without a fight, you’re crazy,” Curtis said.
“That’s up to them,” Cade told the mere. “Seeing you reminded me, Curtis. I haven’t changed my mind.
Cross me, and I will dump you. I haven’t got a lot of affection for you and your buddies. Six men dead down below so your bogus crew can get on the shuttle. Another six dead on Skylance. How many more if Sinclair’s blackmail doesn’t work?”
During the flight up to Pegasus-2, then the two-hour diversion to bring them within sight of Skylance and its ring of defense satellites, Lon Curtis had given Cade a lot of information. The mere didn’t like space travel. It unsettled him, made him vulnerable, and he’d been willing to talk. Partly to make a deal for himself, partly to take his mind off where he was.
The mere had admitted that the original changeover crew had been killed when the bogus crew had taken over. The same fate had been decided for the Skylance crew. Sinclair had decided on a total wipeout to avoid the chance of any resistance. Sinclair’s creed dictated that those against him were to be removed without the least hesitation. The killing had started with the three Amosin employees the moment they had shown a change of heart and wanted out of the conspiracy. It had only been George Takagi’s bad luck that he had stumbled across the reports of their deaths, decreeing that he had to die himself. Once Takagi had been dealt with, the ball had been kept rolling. As far as Sinclair was concerned, there was no turning back. It was total commitment to the cause—for everyone.
Curtis had no answer to Cade’s anger. The deal that had sounded so worthwhile and held the promise of vast profits paled when he thought how easily he might end up dead himself.
An audible warning sounded, followed by a metallic voice. “Shuttle, you may approach and dock. The shield is down.”
Janek took the controls and eased the shuttle over Skylance. The orbiting weapons platform dwarfed the shuttle. The huge weapon pods, slung beneath the disk-like upper shell of the platform, held an array of awesome technology. Nuclear missiles capable of encircling the globe and striking with pinpoint accuracy were backed up by a series of laser weapons that could reach far into space, as well as seek out any designated point on Earth. Skylance also boasted a range of particle-beam weapons far in advance of any other systems in existence. A breakthrough in the particle-beam research program had allowed the U.S. to gain years of advantage over the rest of the world, and it had been decided to optimize that breakthrough by planting the weapons on Skylance. Despite its awesome size and destructive potential, the satellite’s design allowed it to be manned by a six-man c
rew, assisted by a team of tech-droids.
Making a couple of false attempts, Janek locked on to the platform’s docking bay on the third try. As the shuttle eased into position, the sound of the electro-clamps making contact rang through the hull of the shuttle.
“Move, Curtis,” Janek said.
“Where we going?” the mere demanded.
“We can’t have you in the way,” Cade said. “Put him in the aft locker, Janek.”
“You bastards!” Curtis began. “Locker, my ass. You’re dumping me through the garbage chute!”
The light on the access hatch set in the deck flashed green. It meant that the hatch could now be opened.
Cade turned without warning, his fist arcing around to connect with Curtis’s jaw. The man’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped to the floor. Janek grabbed him and bundled him out of sight. He was back in a short time, having locked the mere in a storage locker.
“He can yell all he wants. No one can hear.”
“You set?” Cade asked. “We don’t open that hatch, they’ re going to get suspicious.’’ .
Janek nodded. He keyed in the sequence, and they stood back as the hatch released and began to open. It was a slow process, the heavy metal sliding back to reveal the short access tunnel that led down into Sky-lance.
Though the Justice cops were expecting to see one of Sinclair’s crew to show himself, they didn’t anticipate his reaction as he shoved his head and shoulders through the hatch.
He took one look and started yelling.
A fraction of a second later he started shooting.
Janek shouldered Cade aside, dropped to one knee and returned fire. He felt a bullet pound his left shoulder. The cyborg rocked back on his heels, absorbing the impact. Then he triggered his own weapon, and the soft-nosed hollow points whacked into the mere’s skull. The dying mere lost his grip on the hatch and tumbled back down the ladder. He crashed down on the metal deck, spilling blood across the walkway.
The moment he’d fired, Janek went through the hatch. He slid down the ladder, stepped over the dead mere and pounded along the walkway. The cyborg had a singular purpose. He wanted to reach the communications center before a message could be sent out to Sinclair’s base informing them that Skylance was under attack. At the end of the walkway, he located a com unit and keyed in a location search. The screen obliged, showing an illustrated route from where Janek was to the communications center. The cyborg memorized the route. If he wasn’t interfered with, it would take him just under one minute to reach the place.
He sprinted along the uniformly similar passageways. The only differentiating characteristics were the color stripes on the bulkheads, showing the exact location of each block. Janek watched them alter as he moved from section to section—red to blue to orange to green.
Green was the communications center.
As Janek reached the hatchway leading into the center, he was confronted by one of Lukas Tane’s combat droids barring his way.
“You got an entry code?” it demanded with a definite sneer in its voice.
“You want an entry code? Have one,” Janek said, and jammed the muzzle of his auto-pistol against one of the droid’s eyes and blew its electronic brain out the back of its skull.
As the droid clattered to the deck, Janek moved by.
The center had only one occupant. He was leaning across his communications desk and frantically yelling into a phone, twisting his head as he heard the sound of the shot.
“Assistance needed... right now...”
The mercenary soldier dropped the phone and snatched up his SMG. The weapon crackled harshly, sending slugs clanging into the bulkhead close to where Janek had been standing.
The cyborg had already moved, lunging to the right as the mere let fly. He let himself fall, his gun hand outstretched. He slithered along the deck plates, hearing the mere curse as he kicked his chair back on its flexible stalk to give himself room to operate.
Janek wasn’t allowed that luxury. Propped up on one hand, he tracked in on the mere and punched out a trio of close-spaced shots. They caught the mere in the upper chest, kicking him back across the desk and onto the deck. The front of the mere’s white pressure suit glistened with blood that pumped from his wounds.
Already on his feet, Janek punched the button that closed the center’s hatch. Having secured the place, Janek crossed to the communications desk and studied the layout. It was a familiar setup. From here he could control the whole communications network throughout the platform, and also maintain radio silence if he wanted. Nothing could go out from Skylance now except through Janek.
The first thing he did was cut the transmission facility from the weapons center, isolating them from the outside world. If they wanted to speak to Sinclair, they would have to get by him first.
Dropping down beside the dead mere, Cade snatched up the man’s discarded handgun and jammed it in his belt. He might need the extra firepower.
Cade forgot about the communications center. Janek would handle that. Cade’s own objective was the weapons control center. He had to get that out of the hands of Sinclair’s crew.
Until they were all taken care of, the possibility of their actually using Skylance’s weapons systems still posed a threat. Knowing the way the human mind worked, Cade accepted that the mercs might use the weapons out of pure bloody-mindedness.
He paused at a com unit and asked for a location. The designated route led across to the center of the platform, from where he would have to drop down two levels.
He made it to the elevator shaft he’d seen on the route without resistance.
As he entered the circular area that housed the elevator bank, a weapon opened up off to his right. Cade felt a burning sting across his right upper arm. Instead of ducking for cover, he took a chance and threw himself forward. The hidden gunner hadn’t expected such a move. He had started to relocate, and Cade caught him in the open. The mere’s submachine gun was lowered. Before he could lift it, Cade took him out with a single shot that caught him between the eyes. The mere took an uncertain step backward, slamming up against the bulkhead, then slithered to the deck. A thin ribbon of blood trickled out of the dark hole in his forehead, but it was nothing compared to the dark, sticky mess that was plastered to the bulkhead behind him.
Cade hit the elevator button, keeping his eyes on the indicator panel as it rose to his floor. He stepped to the side as the door slid open. Glancing across the opening, he checked the floor of the elevator. Unless there was someone perched halfway up the side of the car, the elevator was empty.
Cade entered the car and punched in the level he wanted. As the elevator dropped, Cade took evasive action himself in case someone was waiting for him. He used the barrel of the auto-pistol to knock out the car’s lights, plunging him into blackness. It wasn’t much, but at least it might give him a couple of seconds when the elevator stopped.
He felt it slowing. Pressing against the side, Cade waited as the car stopped. The doors seemed to take an eternity before they opened. Cade stayed where he was, caution dictating his movements. His decision to hold back paid off when he heard a faint movement outside the elevator. The sound repeated itself seconds later.
Gripping the auto-pistol in both hands, he eased around the edge of the door, the muzzle seeking its target.
A maintenance droid stood a few feet away from the elevator. It turned its head as Cade stepped out.
“There appears to be a malfunction in the lighting system,” it observed.
Cade lowered the handgun. “You want to fix it?” he said, and walked on by, leaving the droid peering into the dark interior of the car.
The color coding on the bulkheads told him he was nearing the weapons center. Stepping through an open hatch, he recognized the purple color he wanted. The bulkhead also bore the symbols for weapons. Warning signs began to appear, indicating he was in a sensitive area. Cade noticed monitor cameras following his progress. Hopefully they would be transm
itting to the communications center. If Janek was in control now, he would be able to stop the cameras transmitting to the weapons center and advertising his approach.
If the remaining crew were in the weapons center, it was possible they might be getting concerned. They had to know intruders were on the platform. If Janek had cut audio and visual communications, they could be getting jittery. And that could mean they might turn unpredictable.
The hatch to the weapons center blocked his way. It was closed. Cade checked the access panel next to it. The key panel held a triple row of buttons. There was no way he was going to break any code. If anyone could do that, it would have to be Janek.
Cade checked the bulkhead for a com unit. If he could speak to Janek, the cyborg might solve his problem. His luck held, and he found a com unit only yards from the hatchway. Keying in the advised number for the communications center, Cade crossed his fingers and hoped Janek was listening in.
“Janek, you there? Come on, answer me. This is T. J. We’ve got a problem.”
The unit’s vid-screen flashed, and Janek’s face peered at Cade. “How’s it going?”
“I’m at the weapons center. The hatch is secured. And this isn’t one of those doors you break down with your shoulder, either.”
“You’d better come to the communications center. We need to talk.”
“On my way,” Cade said. “Hey, are we okay to talk on this thing?”
Janek nodded. “I’ve got everything locked down. They only hear what I want them to hear.”
“I wonder if there’s any way to lock down the weapons, as well,” Cade muttered to himself as he turned from the com unit. To his surprise, he got an answer.
“That can only be done from inside the center itself.”
Cade whirled around, his gun lifting as he located the speaker.
“I’m not hostile,” the tall cyborg said gently. “In fact, I’m on your side. I want these invaders off Sky-lance as much as you do.”
Cade noticed the blue-and-gold badge stitched into the cybo’s white jumpsuit. Above the Skylance emblem were the words Security Section—Officer Teclan.