“Not yet, Captain.”
Rami increased her pace back across the fountain square and to the block of lifts. They were inside and zooming back down and Hugo once again opened his mouth but Rami shook her head, glancing above their heads. Hugo looked up and saw a camera in the corner and dropped his gaze again.
They came out on a different level and Rami led them on a twisting path amongst banks of boarding pods and budget residences. They came out on another shuttle platform just as one came heaving up. Rami stepped on and Hugo followed. This time Rami took a seat and Hugo sat beside her, watching her hard face.
“Do you think her client is the Splinters?”
“I'd say so, Captain,” she said. “And we'll have to move fast. It sounds like they've nearly finished preparing.”
VIII
“Christ Almighty, Captain,” Webb said. “We let you out to broker one deal and you end up having me make red cement for the Splinters?”
“We'll just have to make sure we bring them down before they get a chance to use it.”
“Fucking right we will,” Webb muttered, adjusting his crouch to get a better angle on the bike's wheel. “What does Rami think?”
“She and Spinn are trying to dig up all they can about the area the storehouse is located, seeing if they can find any contracts or names.”
“There won't be any,” Webb said, tossing the spanner back into the toolbox.
“Nevertheless,” Hugo said. “We can at least find out what names they’re using on credit accounts. We may be able to find out more from there. Can you get this done?”
Webb sighed and levered himself upright on his stiff ankle. “Yes. I can do it. But we should send someone to the storehouse tonight, see what's what. We might get lucky and not have to hand over anything.”
Hugo nodded, jaw looking tight. “Has Harvey come back?”
“She's not with you?”
Hugo shook his head. “She went to talk to some contacts.”
“Fuck,” Webb said. “She better not have got herself caught.”
“What were we saying about faith, Ezekiel?” Harvey's voice echoed through the hold from the top of the ladder. She grinned as she clambered down and moved to join them, pulling off her visor and cap.
“Find anything?” Webb asked.
Harvey frowned and pulled the tie from her hair, shaking out the curls. “There's shit going down alright. Half my folk are running scared.”
“Your folk?” Hugo asked.
“Haven folk, Kaleb,” Harvey said, patting his shoulder. “I know this is all new but try to keep up.”
“What's happening, Marilyn?” Webb said, frowning.
“I had to make sure I didn't sound too interested, but what I could gather from the few Haven types there are left is that everyone's keeping their heads low. Those that are still in business are sticking to the legitimate kind.”
“Not wanting to tread on Splinter toes?”
“Aye,” Harvey said, face grave. “They've spread their net pretty far from the sounds of it. Stamping out or scaring off competition. If I were to go with my instincts I'd say they're gonna try and seize the colony.”
“For whom?” Webb asked, going cold.
“I don't know. That's all I got and I was lucky to get that.”
Webb felt a chill rise up from his belly and threaten to choke him. “We have to stop them.” Hugo looked grave and even Harvey didn't argue. Webb looked away, rubbing at his forehead to try and stop the spinning. He felt the captain's eyes on him.
“How are you feeling?”
Webb blinked back to him. “Okay, Captain. It's just... we have to stop them.”
ɵ
Webb managed to persuade Hugo to make More and Rami the ground team for going to size up the storehouse that night, with Bolt along for backup.
“This is better done quick, Captain,” he said. “And they know what they're looking for. Besides, I'm going to be elbow-deep in explosives. Someone's going to have to stay on the comm.”
Hugo agreed, though he didn't look pleased. If Webb didn't know better he would say the captain was developing a taste for the work. Either that or, more likely, Hugo chafed at taking a back seat whilst sending his crew into danger. Webb could sympathise. He watched Rami, More and Bolt leave the docking bay in dark clothes, guns at hips and night goggles round their necks, then made himself go down to the cargo bay to start on his own work.
He sat himself at a workbench, closed his eyes and took a few breaths. He willed every muscle to relax, even the ones still tight and aching from healing. When his hands were steady he pulled on a pair of heavy gloves and some goggles, re-tied his hair so it wasn't in his eyes and set to work. He sunk himself into it, the smell of the solder and bloodgrease burning in his throat, the weight of the tools. The cement darkened from pink to red in the crucible and he took the heat away just at the right moment and set about wiring up detonator cages.
“Guess this sort of thing never leaves you, huh?”
Webb swore and glowered at Harvey over his shoulder. “It's really not a good idea to sneak up on me when I'm playing with this shit.”
Harvey chuckled before coming and perching on a stool next to him. “Couldn't you knock up fake stuff, just in case?”
“They’re bound to have a dip-test at the hand-off,” Webb murmured.
Harvey leant in to watch as Webb threaded the wires through the cage, making sure nothing touched. “Decent folk don't touch stuff like this.”
“Ain't many of them round here.”
“Hey, Zeek?”
“Hmm?”
“What's the deal with Hugo?”
“What do you mean?”
“After that Akmar character, I didn't think you'd ever let an ex-Serviceman near your helm again.”
Webb pulled another connector through the grid, clipped it off and tied to the cage. “What can I say? There aren't exactly swathes of spacers lining up for the position.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “I'd take it in a heartbeat.”
“What and leave the Phoenix?”
She exhaled through her nose. “You know what I mean.”
Webb loaded the completed cage into the frame and started another. He didn't reply.
“Whatever,” Harvey said. “It's your ship. I just hope he's up to it is all.”
“Time will tell, I guess.”
“The next twenty-four hours will tell,” she mumbled.
Webb sighed and looked at her, pushing aside creepers of doubt. “Marilyn, I'm kinda busy here...”
“Fine,” she said throwing her hands in the air. “Just don't come running to me if you blow the whole sector into drift.”
“We won't be able to,” Webb said, smiling.
Harvey shook her head and pushed herself up off the stool. “Space-crazy,” she repeated. “I always suspected. Now I know.”
ɵ
Hugo paced between the bridge and his cabin, checking his wrist panel and the bridge's display for messages every few minutes. He tried to tell himself that no news was good news but the tension from waiting was reawakening all the aches in his shoulders and head. He took Kinjo's repeated advice and went down to the medbay for some painkillers but then returned to the bridge to once again check the message banks.
The night-cycle was easing into day when the three crew members returned. Hugo had them report in the galley where Kinjo had hot tea and some of their fresher rations ready. They all looked tired, faces drawn and clothes dusty.
“What did you find?” Hugo asked the minute they'd all sat themselves down and started in on the rations.
“The warehouse is a Splinter stronghold, Captain,” More said, after swallowing a mouthful. “I'd bet the Zero on it.”
“Can you be sure?”
“They have a night patrol,” More said.
“Lots of industrial units do.”
“Not armed with AG19s, they don't. Haven-made too, I'd say.”
Harvey stiffened.
>
“They have three patrols on at any one time,” Rami said, setting down her flask of tea, “split into four hour shifts. Our scans didn't show any electronic sensors so they're not scanning comms, but there are cameras and motion-sensors around the entries and exits. As well as the patrols, there was foot traffic between it and the apartment block next door, none of it civilian.”
“Doctor? How does this tie in with what you've found?”
Spinn was twiddling his board marker and squinting at schematics on the wall display. “It would appear that they have some of that apartment block under their control also.”
“Just some?”
Spinn nodded. “The top few floors still look to be civilian residences.”
“Bastards. They'll be counting on that to protect them from assault,” Webb ground out. He hunched forward on his elbows. “What's the warehouse for?”
More rubbed his chin. “Stockpile, I'd say.”
“How integral do we reckon it is?”
“It's difficult to tell without knowing what they've got in there,” More said. “But given how heavily they're guarding it... and the size of the place...”
Bolt swallowed his mouthful. “I'd say there's a fuck-tonne of munitions in there, cap'n. I could smell the gun grease.”
“Do we think it's their command base?”
Webb shook his head. “No way they'd put all their eggs in one basket.”
“I'd say the commander's right, Captain,” Spinn continued, leafing through pages of colony layout on the screen. “Taking the names and credit codes used to secure the warehouse and apartments, I can tell you there are a dozen other areas where they have control of buildings and depots. And that's only the ones they aren't worried about being found.”
“This cache is big though,” Rami said, finishing off her tea. “And it's where they're storing the cement. I think if we destroy this building we could scupper whatever it is they're planning for the colony.”
“Maybe is not good enough. We have one strike before they're after our blood,” Hugo said. “I'm assuming you've tried scanning and hacking into their camera feeds?”
Rami nodded. “Spinn and I both tried. As far as we can tell there are no cameras inside the building. Or, if there is, they're on a closed system. And I don't know what they've put in the walls but our scanners were not getting through.” Rami paused, tapping her finger on the side of her empty flask. “If we want to find out what's inside we're going to have to make the hand-off.”
“She's right, Captain,” Webb said. “Don't let this go to your head or anything Hugo, but I agree with you. We need to be sure our move is going to count before we make it.”
“And what is our move?” Hugo said.
“I can engineer an isolated blast that'll take out the whole building,” Webb said, levering himself to his feet and limping closer to look at the plans. “If we plant some low-level foundation charges here, here and... here,” he drew some circles on the plan with Spinn's display marker, “that'll get it going. Whatever they've got stashed in there should take care of the rest. Hopefully it'll take some of the fuckers along with it. But, either way, if they're not scanning comms, the ground team should keep their wrist panels locked to transmit,” Webb said. “We can monitor vitals and communication without them having to check in.”
“What are the chances of damage to the surrounding area?” Hugo said.
Webb shrugged. “Minimal. If it's done right. But we'll have to get the cement back out of there and far away first.”
“How?”
“We break in and grab it and get it out of there before setting off the charges,” Webb said. “Spinn, is that a drain there? How big is it?”
“It would be too narrow for crates of cement,” Spinn said, shaking his head.
“We can program our crate lifters to life right up and over the wall, Rami put in. “But it would take time.”
“Sir... I really think you should let me do this,” Webb said, after a pause.
Hugo weighed him up. “What's your status?”
“I'm fine.”
“Lieutenant?” Hugo said. “What do you think?”
Rami finished chewing a mouthful of fruit without looking at either of them. “I don't think the commander is fit for fieldwork yet, Captain.”
Webb stared at Rami but she took a deliberate bite of apple and didn't look up.
“Very well. Lieutenant, Crewman Bolt. We will make the hand-off and establish what's inside. Then we will report in and move from there.”
“Won't this be fun,” Harvey grated.
“You're not involved with this, Captain,” Hugo said. “You might be recognised.”
“Thank fuck,” she said, leaning back on her bench. “Some sense at last.”
“You are to stay on the Zero and help Spinn monitor the local systems for anything that might hamper the ground team.”
“Hey, I'm flattered and all Hugo but I ain't exactly a systems whizz,” she protested.
“Then you can make him coffee,” Hugo said. “And help Kinjo and Sub in the hold. Anything they need, you make sure they get.”
“Sir,” Kinjo said in a small voice. “Sub and I could cover the apartment block... we could give the ground team warning if anything starts stirring.”
Hugo eyed her, hands clasped together, unblinking. He considered it for a moment but shook his head. “I think the fewer people we've got in the field for this one, Midshipman, the better. If all goes to plan we should be out of there before they even know what's happened.”
“I wish I had a tenth of credit for every 'if' that gets used on this ship,” Harvey muttered.
“Commander?” Hugo said, looking at Webb where he leant against the wall by the display, still looking at Rami who wouldn't look back. “No protests?”
“Thousands,” Webb muttered. “But you won't listen so I won't bother.”
“Good. First thing's first. Everyone needs to get some rest. Flag goes up tomorrow before midnight”
ɵ
“Are you sure you've got all that, Captain?” Webb said.
“Commander if you ask me that again you're grounded. I'll deploy the welding torch if I have to.”
“It's just...” Webb scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck it. Whatever. Just, Jesus, make sure this shit is well, well away before you ignite any charges.”
“I've seen this cement in action, Commander. You don't have to tell me again,” Hugo said, checking over his weapons. He didn't look up to see Webb's face, knowing the tightness in it would only fan the cold flames that were dancing along his nerves.
“Sir,” Rami leant out the Jeep. “We have to go.”
Hugo climbed into the passenger seat. The ramp went down and Bolt started the engine. The commander's face was pale in the rear-view mirror as they pulled away.
Even on the night cycle the harbour was a hive of activity. Cranes still moaned, scanners beeped, lifters hummed and spacers swore. Floodlights washed everything a sickly sort of yellow and Bolt steered the Jeep down the exitway between loading bays towards the gate. Another customs agent with a computer panel came out of the booth at the gate and shone her lenslight on the reg panel and then in the back on the cargo. She came round to the driver's window.
“Zero?” she said around a mouthful of gum. Bolt nodded. She peered at her computer panel. “Your record says you're here buying.”
“We're taking parts back,” Bolt grumbled.
“At this time?”
“I'm on a deadline.”
The woman stood there chewing for a second longer, shining her light first at Hugo then Rami and again on the crates in the back. “Open it up.”
Bolt sighed and got out the Jeep. Hugo concentrated on sitting still. He watched in the rear-view as Bolt opened the back door and the woman swapped her lenslight for a scanner.
“Won't work,” Bolt grunted, reaching in and keying in code into the topmost box. “Old crates.”
The crate popped open. T
he woman leaned in with her light, wrinkling her nose. “I smell bloodgrease.”
“Cheapskate used it to oil the connectors,” Bolt growled. “Captain told me to get them off the ship. The dealer might like playing it fast and loose but we'd prefer our engines didn't blow in drift.”
“Too right,” the woman said, leaning back. “You got a purchase record for these?”
Rami handed the woman a panel and she peered at it. “There's no seller details.”
“The shit didn't give us his name. But we know where he is,” Bolt said.
“Fine. Get this crap away from my dock. And report that dealer to the Sector Enforcers.”
“Yes Ma'am.”
Hugo let out a shuddering breath as the gate disappeared from the rear-view. No one talked as Bolt wove the Jeep through the dim groundways. The traffic thinned as they left the docks behind. They steered around the clusters of bars and clubs and kept to darkened side-streets. Factories, maintenance yards and warehouses, all locked and closed down for the night-cycle, loomed in the dark around them behind tall fences.
He closed his eyes and reached inside for the part of himself that knew how to wear fear like armour, but all he found was a bleak emptiness. He opened his eyes and clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms and sunk himself into the pain instead, using it to anchor himself.
A barred gate with a blinking control lock and two cameras appeared in the headlights. Bolt drew up alongside them and stopped the Jeep and waited, engine humming.
“Everyone's panels locked to transmit?” Hugo mumbled.
“Aye, Captain.”
“Good. Here we go.”
Two men clothed head-to-toe in black with assault rifles stepped into the Jeep's headlights whilst the gate continued to creak open behind them. They looked like skeletons in the bald light, heads shaved and faces obscured by goggles and dust-scarves pulled up over their noses. They waved them forward. The headlight beams bobbed off a wall of concrete. A finger of light appeared in the solid surface as they edged closer, widening as doors in the side of the structure opened. More silent, faceless figures appeared in the opening, gesturing them through. The interior of the building was brightly lit. There were empty crates and piles of scrap piled on one side, empty workstations on the other. More Splinters with guns were arriving through interior doors, all with scarves and goggles. They took up positions around the Jeep and one tapped the barrel of her rifle on the driver's door. They climbed out in silence.
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