Confluence

by S. K. Dunstall

  Han’s would be fine, but Chaudry wasn’t used to going armed, and she didn’t want to single him out. Not at the moment.

  “Got it,” van Heel said triumphantly.

  Her mobile tracker pointed directly at Han.

  “Han,” Radko said. “Empty your pockets.”

  “I really didn’t think this day could get worse.” Han pulled everything out of his pockets and dropped the contents onto the seat he’d been sitting in earlier. Among them was his personal comms, which he’d pulled out to check on Radko, back while they’d still been in the apartment.

  “You left your personal comms on. I should toss you out of this car.” In a way, she was as much to blame as Han because Han had shown her Renaud trying to call earlier. She should have insisted he turn it off. Of course, Redmond would intercept calls to or from Lancia. They were the enemy. The comms must have been transmitting ever since.

  “Yup. It just got a lot, lot worse.” Han picked it up to turn it off.

  “Wait,” Radko said. “Anyone else’s comms on? No? Good. Don’t switch it off yet. We might be able to use it. Continue toward the settlement, van Heel.”

  She made her take the aircar low, near ground that looked less rocky. “As close as you can,” she told van Heel, “and override the door for me.”

  Van Heel did.

  Radko opened the door, leaned out, dropped the comms, then leaned back and wrestled the door closed again.

  TWELVE

  DOMINIQUE RADKO

  “THAT MIGHT FOOL them for a few minutes,” Radko said. And it seemed it did, for their pursuers didn’t change course again.

  “I apologize for getting us into this mess,” Han said stiffly.

  “Don’t take all the credit, Han. Mistakes happen. We deal with it. Let’s concentrate on staying alive now. Make for the town, van Heel.”

  If they were lucky, they’d get all the way there. It was simpler to hide in a town of twenty thousand people than it was to hide in the rocky terrain they were flying over.

  “I’m glad it was you and not me,” van Heel said to Han. “Being the first to muck up on a job stinks.”

  “I’m glad it was you, too,” Chaudry said. “I’d have been devastated.”

  They could have made it worse by berating him, or by not saying anything at all. Instead, they tried to help although Chaudry’s help could have done with some finesse.

  They were fifty kilometers away from the town when van Heel said, “They’ve resumed following. A classic sector-search pattern.”

  “All of you, keep a watch for some cover where we might conceal the aircar.”

  “Have you looked at the terrain down there?” van Heel said. “We’ll be lucky not to crash.”

  Rocky terrain made it harder to hide. Unless they could find overhanging rocks. “Put us behind something that will block our heat signature and get us down fast.”

  “Right.” Seemingly seconds later, van Heel said, “Strap in. I’m going down fast.”

  Han would pull through, but it would be good to give him something else to think about. Except she didn’t need to, for Han was watching Chaudry’s white-knuckled grip on the seat.

  “You’ve never crashed before, Chaudry?”

  Chaudry’s grip became tighter.

  Van Heel pulled up in a hard reverse thrust only meters from the ground. “I’m not that bad.” They hit the ground with enough force to bounce. “She said go down fast.”

  “You know they have antigrav stabilizers,” Han said. “You won’t die, Chaudry.”

  “The force of the antigrav kicking in can cause more damage than outright impact. Because it kicks in so fast, it can cause trauma, cardiac contusions and atrial ruptures, asthma, traumatic iritis, and even orbital fractures.”

  “You know I only understood the first part.”

  Van Heel had brought them down in the center of a rocky outcrop. If they’d had something to cover the roof of the aircar, it would have been perfect.

  “Nicely done, van Heel,” Radko said.

  “It was, wasn’t it.” If van Heel sounded smug, who could blame her? “Let’s see what we’ve got out here.”

  They had to pop the emergency top for Chaudry to exit because the door didn’t open far enough for him to squeeze out. Even then, it was a tight fit.

  It took the three of them to boost him up, with Han doing the bulk of the work, grunting as he did so. “Lucky you’re not fat, Chaudry.”

  “Fat is less dense than muscle.”

  Outside, Radko took time to appreciate just how cleverly van Heel had landed. They had cover from the rocks around them. The only thing that could get to them was a direct, overhead shot. She turned her attention to the Pandora field diffuser and started assembling the components.

  “You know,” Han said, “they set those things up on the outside of ships to destroy small particles. If you’re thinking to use it to protect humans, it needs a stable surface. Holding it won’t work.”

  Radko tapped the top of the aircar. “Define stable. Meantime, you and Chaudry take a quick look around to find enough shelter for all of us. If we bring an aircar down, it will fall right on top of us.”

  “Shelter. Right.”

  “Keep together and keep in constant comms.”

  “What’s she doing?” Chaudry asked, as they moved off.

  “I don’t know, Chaudry. But that’s a Pandora diffuser. She probably plans to use it after they’ve blown us to bits, to destroy any evidence we’ve been here.”

  Han would see.

  Radko calibrated the diffuser until the beam was only atoms thick. She didn’t test it. A deep gouge in one of the rocks would betray their location as fast as Han’s comms had.

  If they were lucky, the aircars would bypass them altogether. But they weren’t going to be lucky. Redmond would have the technology to pick out individual heat signals. They’d find them. It was just a matter of how long.

  Han and Chaudry returned from their circuit. “Not much to hide behind,” Han reported. “A few overhangs, but more for one person than all of us. If they use lasers to cut into whichever rock each of us is sheltering under, we’ll be crushed.”

  It would be safer if they moved away from the aircar. “Show me, Han. Chaudry, keep watch here with van Heel. Van Heel, can you slave the aircar screens to our comms?”

  “These comms? These screens? You’d better all start thinking positive thoughts.”

  Chaudry looked as if he was doing exactly that. If he’d been on a ship, it might have worked. He was, after all, a linesman.

  They set off together, Radko keeping an ear open for the sounds of aircraft and a careful note of the quickest, safest way back to the aircar. The ground was covered in loose rocks. It would be hard to run without turning your ankle.

  The first part of their walk was silent. Radko nodded approvingly at one outcrop that might shelter them from the first pass of a strafing aircar.

  “My father’s going to the fleet?” Han asked eventually. “How bad is that for us?”

  “It depends who he goes to. You know him better than I do. Whom would he approach?”

  Han wrinkled his brow. “I can’t imagine. Papa didn’t have much to do with the fleet. I think he was scared of them. Especially Commodore Bach. He was always nervous around him.”

  Maybe Renaud had been worried Bach would find out he had changed Han’s DNA, for the more Radko thought about it, the more convinced she was that it had been done with Renaud’s knowledge.

  “Back when I first joined the fleet, I was sure Bach was blackmailing him. I went to my father and asked.”

  “And was he?”

  “He was . . . shocked, I think. Said of course not. That Bach would only do what was best for Lancia.” Han shaded his eyes and squinted against the harsh sunlight, looking into the air for military
craft. Radko could believe he’d welcome them, rather than this uncomfortable conversation.

  Yet Han must have had a reason to suspect Bach. “So who was blackmailing him?”

  “He never said. He changed the subject.”

  So Renaud was being blackmailed. Given it was around the time he’d “adopted” his new son, it was likely someone had found out about it. And was using it to what?

  Blackmail didn’t stop, not unless you stopped the blackmailer. Was that why Renaud tracked his son so carefully? Why he assumed that Han’s going to Redmond meant a ransom payment first, or at best a trap, when others would assume a job for a soldier?

  Her comms sounded. Van Heel.

  “Two aircraft coming.”

  Two. Surely they could have come one at a time. Radko left Han behind in her run back to the aircar.

  “Tell me where. Tell me when,” she ordered van Heel.

  Han arrived behind, breathing fast. “I never thought of myself as a slow runner before.”

  “Han, Chaudry. Weapons ready. Head for the cover you found earlier. Be prepared to avoid falling debris, and shoot everyone who exits.” If anyone survived the crash, they would come out shooting. “Van Heel. Did you manage to slave the comms?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. As soon as I say, go with Han and Chaudry. If this thing comes down, it will come down hard.

  Abram Galenos had always liked Pandora field diffusers. “They might not be enough to destroy a ship,” he’d said, “but energy dispersed in a fine beam will still damage a ship enough to give you an advantage.” They were old technology, replaced on many ships by stronger, newer field diffusers that you couldn’t tighten the beam on.

  Jiang Vega liked them, too, but that was because she considered them antiques, and she collected antique weapons.

  Everyone on the Lancastrian Princess knew how to use them. And their strengths and weaknesses. It was also a test of skill, for matching a narrow beam to a high, fast-moving aircraft was well-nigh impossible. “Give me the coordinates of the first aircar, van Heel. Keep reading them out. One every two seconds.”

  Van Heel started to count off figures.

  Radko counted with her, calibrating the diffuser as she went.

  “Sixty eight five. Sixty eight four. Sixty eight three.”

  It was coming in a fast, straight line. “Go now. Quick.”

  She continued the countdown as van Heel ran. “Sixty seven nine. Sixty seven eight.”

  She pressed the button.

  She couldn’t see the beam, which was like a microns-thick, hot, molten wire. Didn’t know she’d intersected the aircar until Han’s, “Holy Jackson and Philtre.”

  “Take cover.” And she raced for the nearest rocky overhang.

  Pieces of aircar fell around her. One spinning propeller bounced and missed her by centimeters.

  “Watch for survivors.”

  There were none.

  The other aircar came down fast. Four soldiers exited.

  “Stay under cover as much as you can,” Radko said. “I’ll take whoever is on the right. Han, take the left. Chaudry, center left. Van Heel, center right. Don’t fire until we have to, for they’ll know our range then.” The Redmond soldiers would have longer-range weapons and could pick them off individually.

  She moved fast around the rocks, rolling on one and sliding down. She waited, hardly daring to breathe, until she was sure the enemy hadn’t heard her.

  It gave her an idea. She reached down and picked up one of the rocks. She hefted it in her hand, guessing the weight and balance.

  She threw it as far as she could, off to the right of their attackers. Two soldiers headed that way.

  Chaudry gave a small huff of understanding. Next moment another stone whizzed past. A good strong throw, it landed way past hers.

  Radko waved her team on and out.

  Then it was blaster to blaster. Hiding behind what little cover the rocks afforded. Firing when she could. She lost part of her sleeve taking the first soldier down.

  Han fired past her, blaster melting the stone on the ground in front of them.

  Radko ran forward. Again, and again.

  A bitten-off scream behind her. Van Heel.

  Radko took aim and fired.

  A rain of stones from Chaudry, behind her, kept the Redmond soldiers occupied trying to defend their heads. She and Han picked the last two soldiers off.

  * * *

  VAN Heel was down. They’d deal with her when the site was secure.

  “Han, Chaudry, with me.”

  She entered the cabin of the Redmond aircar, fast, weapon ready to fire.

  It was empty.

  “Good. We’ll take this aircar.” It would be faster than their own, and right now, speed was the most important consideration. “Cover us,” Radko told Han. “Chaudry, come back with me to collect van Heel. Then get back in here before any more aircars arrive.”

  Chaudry proved as strong as he looked. He picked van Heel up and ran.

  “She’s alive?” Han asked. He had the engines idling.

  “I’m still conscious, idiot,” van Heel said.

  The weapon had caught her across her chest, burning part of one breast and the skin and flesh off the top of her arm.

  “Let me see,” Chaudry said.

  “Take it up.” Radko looked at van Heel. “Is there any chance that you know how to disable the tracking on a military vehicle?”

  “Of course I can. But it will take hours and equipment we haven’t got.”

  They didn’t have the time, either. “When’s Gunter’s shuttle due?”

  “Six hours,” said van Heel.

  This aircar was fast. They’d be at the spaceport in two hours. They’d have to hide for four. Even now, someone at Redmond headquarters—someone like van Heel—would be tracing their route. They’d work out where they were headed. Then they’d go through the expected deliveries at the spaceport. It wouldn’t take much to associate Han’s Lancian comms with an order coming from Lancia. They’d hack into Gunter Wong’s call, then his sales records. They’d know where the shellfish were being delivered. They’d know exactly what Radko and her team planned.

  What came after that would be far worse than anything they had encountered so far. If they continued with this plan, they’d be dead in four hours.

  It was time to revise their plan. “Let’s go steal a shuttle,” Radko said.

  * * *

  THE closest spaceport with shuttles currently on the ground was a thousand kilometers away. Radko turned the throttle on full and set the autopilot. They’d be there in twenty minutes.

  “Han, watch the boards, see if we’re being followed. While you’re doing that, see what shuttles will be in port, and identify them and where they’re going.”

  Chaudry had already found the first-aid kit. He handled van Heel with a competence surprising for one who, according to his records, had been stuck in supplies for the six months since he’d graduated from fleet academy.

  Radko watched him while she picked the lock on the first weapons cupboard. “You’ve seen action?”

  “No, ma’am.” Chaudry ducked his head and turned away, as if ashamed that he hadn’t.

  “But you’ve treated injured people before.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Chaudry. It’s not my business to know every personal detail of your life.” Although a good team leader did. She was sure Bhaksir knew every detail of hers. “But if I have a skilled medical practitioner on my staff, I need to know it.”

  The cupboard door sprang open.

  “My parents were doctors.” She had to strain to hear Chaudry’s mumble. “I was going to be a doctor.”

  Until he’d taken the Havortian tests. Did anyone ever refuse to go into line training?

  Rad
ko checked the contents of the cupboard. More blasters. Didn’t they have better weapons? She moved on to the next cupboard.

  “Speaking of knowing people,” Han said. “You’re very handy with a picklock.”

  “Thank you.” Personally, she’d prefer a level-twelve linesman to open it for her. And what was Ean doing now, anyway?

  Thinking about that—she apologized to the next cupboard as she broke the connection. “I am sorry, but we need the weapons.” She didn’t know if the Redmond aircar cupboards were line three or simply mechanical. Probably mechanical, and a linesman wouldn’t have been able to open them.

  She looked up to see all of them staring at her. “It’s polite.”

  “Maybe I’m not the one you should be looking at,” van Heel told Chaudry. She breathed in sharply as he sprayed painkiller on her wound, then out on a long hiss as the gel hardened. “That feels so good.”

  Radko went back to the weapons cupboard. This one, at least, had a long-distance armor-piercing gun. Not a big one, but large enough to put a dent into anything that might come after them. She handed it to Han.

  The third cupboard held riot grenades. The smaller ones had a range of three meters, the larger ones could clear a large cargo space. Radko tucked all of them into her belt.

  “We’ve three possible shuttles,” Han said. “A small two-seater that will arrive around the same time we do. It’s delivering machinery parts. A ten-seater delivering a shipment of iced Karamba mangosteen. It will arrive five minutes after we do. And a six-seater delivering passengers and cargo from a regular run between the Redmond worlds. It’s been down half an hour already.”

  “We’ll take the six-seater if we can.” It had two advantages. They’d all fit, and it would be ready to leave—shuttles didn’t stay long because of port charges.

  They just had to get there in time.

  Five minutes to go. Radko checked the location of the shuttle as the aircar slowed to descend and set them to land as close to the shuttle they wanted as she could.

  She switched to manual at four minutes, for the automatic traffic controller would grab them if she didn’t, and it would move them to a safer location. Five seconds later, the automated message came on.