Finally freeing himself, he raced forward towards the girl, trying to rescue her, get her out of the fighting, but another technician was nearer, knife in hand, slashing down. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Cooper tried to save her, but the other man was too quick, too close. At the last second, another figure dived in, between the girl and the knife, taking the blow that was meant for the girl before collapsing to the ground. Naxos.
Felling the technician with a blow to the head that sent him toppling to the deck, Cooper yelled, “Enough!” Behind him, the fight was coming to an end, the women looking down upon the few remaining technicians, huddled in a corner. He looked around his squad, covered in bruises and cuts, but none of them seemed badly wounded. Their foes had suffered far worse, half a dozen of them dead or wounded, not one of them untouched by the battle.
“We give in!” one of them yelled. “Don't kill us.”
“I'll leave that for the court,” Cooper said.
“Sir?” Gidzenko said, kneeling beside Naxos. “He's in a bad way. Chest wound.”
“You're in the right place, Specialist. Do what you can for him.” He looked down at the guard, his face strangely tranquil as his life ebbed away onto the floor. Turning to the surviving technicians, he said, “Save his life, or I'll end yours.”
As they moved to their work, Reana stepped over to one of the women, a tall, rangy figure with gray streaks in her hair, tears flooding from her eyes as she looked up to her. They exchanged quick words, garbled and unintelligible to Cooper.
“I've told them that you are here to save us,” she said.
“Get them free,” Cooper said, turning to Price. “Right now. And make sure any and all records they have here are secured on the double. I want them dumped onto something that can be read by the computers on Skybase as well as our own.”
“No problem, sir,” he said. “Rhodes, cut them down, and be careful.”
Behind them, Gidzenko carefully laid Naxos onto the nearest bed, laying his medical kit beside him as he began the fight to save the guard's life. Reana looked at him, watching the medic begin his work, shaking her head.
“I don't understand. Why did he do that?”
“Maybe he found out that he had some humanity left in him after all.”
On the wall, a button flashed, and Cooper tapped the control, “I wondered how long it would take you, Raval. Did you enjoy the show?”
“You seemed to be having fun, Ensign. I didn't think you needed the distraction. My complements on your success, but it changes absolutely nothing. You are still my prisoners in every way that matters, and I still hold you all hostage. There is a gunboat in orbit, and my men have secured every exit. You cannot escape.” With a sigh, he added, “My offer remains open. Destroy all the data, and you can leave immediately. The captives can be freed, and go wherever they wish. You have my word on that.”
“You'll have to forgive me for not wanting to accept your word for anything. We've secured the entire medical database of this station, and I rather suspect that a lot of people in this system will be very interested in the horror show you've been running down here. How far does this conspiracy go, Raval? I think we're going to find out.”
“Say what you wish, Ensign. If you continue your recalcitrant attitude, you will never leave this planet alive. The life support systems are accessible from the outside, and it will be the work of a few moments to shut them down. In two or three hours, you will only have two choices. Suffocate or surrender. Raval out.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Damn him.”
“What about the freighter?” Danus asked. “That has independent life support facilities.”
“For twenty, and there are twice as many of us.” He paused, then added, “Besides, I'm sure there is a lot of mischief they can cause to their systems as well, if they want to. Lots of external access panels, or they could breach the oxygen tanks.” Looking at the prisoners, he said, “We'll have to see what we can organize for respirators. I'm not going to hand them back over to that monster.” He paused, looked at Cantrell, and said, “The freighter.”
“No,” she said. “You've got to be out of your mind.”
“All we have to do is get into free orbit, escape velocity. No fancy maneuvering needed.”
Shaking her head, she replied, “And I suppose the gunboat they've got in orbit will just move aside to let us pass? We'll be wide open, Cooper. Besides, you said it yourself. We can't evacuate everyone on that ship, it doesn't have the capability.”
“I wouldn't risk civilians on that ship anyway. Just a minimal crew, the two of us.” Looking at a puzzled Hunt, he said, “On the surface, we can't contact anyone, can't communicate with Alamo, but once we get out of their jamming range, we can scream loud and clear to everyone, pass on the information we've learned, everything we know. There's no way that they'll attack us after that. What would be the point? Their secret will be out.”
“We're talking about a pretty big risk, sir,” Hunt said. “The transport is old, in poor repair, and doesn't have any combat systems or capability to speak of. You'd be taking her up against a military vessel, presumably already at battle stations, positioned to prevent just such a launch.”
“The alternative, Corporal, is that we let the situation in this system fall apart. We've got another deadline coming up, if the Administrator has given some sort of ultimatum. If we don't spread the word about what we've learned, there'll be a war that will wreck this civilization anyway. Unless, of course, they find some way of destroying our ship. It's bigger than just the people in this base. There are tens of thousands of lives at stake.”
With a sigh, Cantrell said, “I've never flown a craft like this in atmosphere before. Not for real, anyway, and simulator training doesn't count for that much. Not to mention that the controls will be unfamiliar, and I don't know the feel of the craft or even the baseline performance statistics.”
“All true,” Cooper said. “Are you in?”
“After a speech like that,” she replied, “What choice do I have?”
Chapter 19
“How much longer?” Salazar asked, looking at Harper, Ortok and Valya as they struggled to make some sense out of the tangle of machinery on the table. “They're going to be sweeping the decks. Sooner or later they'll find us down here, no matter how tangled the tunnels are.”
“We're going as fast as we can,” Harper said, busily dismantling her communicator. As well as the holdall of parts, a datapad and a communicator had been sacrificed to the needs of the desperate project, the pieces scattered across the work area, connected with a spider's web of cables and leads. Salazar shook his head, and moved over to the door, wishing that he had a weapon, something he could use to give him an advantage.
He strained to listen, catching the occasional ringing sound from overhead, a scattered word of conversation that echoed around the walls, sweeping all the way down here. It had been almost half an hour since their raid on the stores, and for most of that time there had been people all around them, sweeping through the tunnels.
The noises were definitely getting louder, by the minute. He looked back at the equipment, and shook his head. It would be impossible to move it from the table, still less through the corridors, not without abandoning everything they'd gained. He pulled out his communicator, fiddling with the frequencies one last time, hoping to get even a trace of a signal, something that would solve this problem, a single message from Alamo.
Anything could be happening out there. For all he knew, Alamo was in the middle of a battle for its life, could even have lost it, and he was stuck down here in the catacombs, watching a trio of engineers battle with their machinery, while all around him dozens of people were hunting him down, ready to kill him and the others if they stumbled across the room.
“They're getting closer,” he said.
“If this is your idea of encouragement..
.” Harper began, but he interrupted.
“I'd say we've got about five minutes before they get close enough that we'll need to make a run for it. No more than that, and possibly less. How long?”
“Nearly there,” Valya said. “Three more connections, and then I can begin the testing process.”
“Testing? Is that necessary?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you want to be buried in a shower of sparks when we fire it up for the first time. We're doing this on the run, and for all we know, I've crossed a couple of dozen circuits.”
Shaking his head, Ortok replied, “It doesn't matter. It'll never work anyway.”
“It'll work,” Harper said, connecting the final power pack. “There's enough juice running through this rig that we should get a good strong signal, two-way, all the way to Alamo. Of course, that's going to set off every detector for a few thousand miles, so they'll be able to pinpoint our location down to the meter as soon as we signal.”
Looking up at the hacker, Salazar said, “Now you tell me.”
“What choice do we have? I'd just keep the conversation short, that's all.” She plugged in a headset, rested it on the desk, and said, “I'm ready at my end.”
“The tests…”
“Will take too long,” Salazar said. “We don't have minutes, we've got seconds. Have you completed your connections?”
“I think so,” she said. “I haven't done anything like this in years.”
“Years?” Ortok asked, shaking his head.
With a shrug, she said, “I run the whole laser assembly, remember? It's been ages since I've done much in the way of hands-on maintenance. Still, it's just like putting on a spacesuit. You never really forget.”
“And if you do, you die a slow, painful death,” Ortok replied. “Not a good analogy. I'm ready at my end.” Slamming a connection into position, he said, “Frequency modulator is ready to go, locked on your Triplanetary communications band.” Looking at Salazar, he asked, “Well, are you going to try it?”
“Not yet, I'm not,” he said. “Valya, is there another safe house within reasonable distance of us? Somewhere where they can't find us?”
“Reasonable distance, no. About half a mile away, on the far side of the base, there's a big network of tunnels around the water storage tanks. Nice and shielded. No way they'll spot us down there.” Gesturing at the hatch, she said, “Two left, then a long, long run down a narrow corridor with some twists and turns at the end. If we move quickly, they won't know what happened.”
Nodding, Salazar said, “Get going.”
“What? After all of this...”
“It won't go to waste. Captain Orlova needs to know what is going on down here, and I'm going to be the one to tell her.” Looking at Harper, he said, “Before you protest, ma'am, I'll point out that your practical skills are going to be a hell of a lot more use than mine down here. As for the rest of you, I'm a Triplanetary officer, and this is my job, not yours.”
“Pavel, you'll never find your way through the tunnels.”
“Then I get to act as a decoy as well as everything else,” he said. “You've got to get away, stay on the move, hold out long enough for the reinforcements to get here from Alamo. If one of us has to be captured, then let it be me.”
“They'll kill you,” Harper said. “I'll stay. I outrank you, remember.”
Shaking his head, Salazar replied, “Call it a mutiny, if you like. Now get moving, we're wasting time. I might still have a chance if I can get this over with quickly enough.” Looking down at his watch, he said, “I'll give you a head-start of sixty seconds before I make the call.”
Nodding, Valya said, “Two left, down a quarter mile, one right, one right, two left, up one, down three, along another quarter mile. Got it?”
“I think so.”
“That'll get you close enough for me to bring you the rest of the way. Good luck, Pavel.”
“You'll need it more than I will,” he replied, as the trio disappeared down the tunnel, silently making their way into the darkness, disappearing from view in a matter of seconds. He glanced down at his watch, counting down the seconds, listening to the noise of the searchers overhead. The pattern didn't seem to change, no reaction to the movement of his friends, just a slow, steady search. He looked down at the equipment on the table, and smiled. Soon they would have a nice strong lead to go on, a beacon that would guide them right to him.
As the last few seconds sped away, he strapped the headset on, adjusting the microphone to bring it next to his mouth, and reached down to throw the power packs up to maximum, wincing at the howl that ran through his ears, a whine that seemed to reverberate around his skull as the instruments set down. Static replaced it, the roaring noise of space itself, distorted signals from all over the universe rushing through the headphones.
The time was up. He gave the others a few extra seconds for luck, then started to throw switches, reaching deep into the mechanism, a pair of sparks flashing into the air as the system powered up. A series of red and amber lights flicked on, warning of overloads and system failures in the near future, but none of that mattered for now. The one indicator he needed was green. Signal acquisition.
“Salazar to Alamo, urgent! Come in, at once!”
Rolling static answered him, but he knew that the ship was at least half a dozen light-seconds away, and he counted down the time as he waited for the reply, straining to hear. Six seconds passed, then seven, eight, nine, and despair began to seep into his thoughts as it appeared that all of this might have been for nothing, that the searchers who even now would be converging on his location, signal detectors in hand, would catch him before he could pass his signal. Turning the power up to maximum, he tried again.
“Salazar to Alamo, urgent! Reply at once! I need to speak to the Captain!”
Six more seconds, and finally a faint whisper of a reply, “Captain here. Report, Pavel.”
Keeping it as short as he could, he replied, “Harper and I are on the run. Tarak is a double-, maybe a triple-agent, and appears to have taken control of the base and the laser. I cannot remain at this communicator for long, and will be unable to call again. What's happening out there?”
“No good news, Sub-Lieutenant. We've got multiple contacts converging on us from all sides, and the situation is deteriorating by the minute. We could be facing a full-scale war any time now, and the Administrator of the Council has issued an ultimatum to the Coalition and Alamo.”
Shaking his head, Salazar replied, “Can you send a rescue party?”
“Negative. If Alamo moves, it breaks the current ceasefire and the war begins at once, and I can't risk a shuttle under the current circumstances. You're going to have to stay on the run for the moment. Who is Tarak working for?”
“Unknown. Claims to be a Council spy, but has a lot of influence in the Coalition. He might be playing both sides against each other. Don't trust anything he says, or anything coming from this base. We can hold out here for as long as you need.”
“Roger, Pavel. Don't worry, we're not going to leave you behind. Help will be on the way as soon as we can send it. Just hang on. Orlova out.”
Ripping off the headset, Salazar looked down at the communicator, the laboriously constructed device that had served only to relay terrible news. Curls of smoke were already beginning to rise, and there was a distinct odor of ozone in the air, heralding a destructive end for the improvised equipment in the near future.
As he had feared, voices were converging on him from all sides, and he pushed out of the room, not looking back, sparks erupting through the air as he left, heading down the corridor as quickly as he could, pushing off against the wall to gain speed, the low gravity allowing him to move in long, loping bounces.
He glanced around, trying to make out if anyone was out in the dar
kness, waiting for him, but there was no sign of activity, no sign of life. Running through Valya's hurried instructions in his mind, he took the second path to the left, diving around a series of drooping cables, shrugging through the obstruction as he raced into the darkness, trying to outrun his pursuers.
A loud explosion echoed through the corridors, the final death of the communicator as the power packs went. Likely it had sounded a lot worse than it was, but it might serve to slow down the enemy forces for long enough to give him a chance to get away. As the noise subsided, loud voices shouted around, panicked cries and angry barks filling the air, some of them uncomfortably close.
As he took the next turning, he glanced back to see a figure chasing after him, the beam of a torchlight briefly enveloping his body before he swung out of sight. He had to have been spotted, and he turned, diving back towards his pursuer in a desperate attempt to silence him before he could report back, knocking a communicator out of his hand as he crashed into the figure, writhing and turning in the corridor.
He took a blow to the stomach that threw him against the wall, knocking the wind from his lungs and blurring his vision before he could recover, kicking out with his legs to buy time, wildly flailing about, connecting with something soft he couldn't even see, tumbling around in panic. The figure latched onto his leg, pulling him back, but he stomped his other boot on the figure's wrist, hearing a scream of pain that echoed around.
Turning back, he looked into the face of his enemy, an earnest, young man, with pain on his face and fierce determination in his eyes. They both paused for a second, staring at each other, as though gauging the other's might, before lunging at each other again, rolling back down the corridor in the wrong direction. Finally, Salazar took a swing at the figure's head, and the young man's eyes closed, his body growing limp as he crashed down onto the floor.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Triple-Edged Sword Page 18