Confluence

by S. K. Dunstall

  Ean reoriented himself and the newly escaped prisoners. “I’ve got it. Locking all the doors except those to the lockers.” He’d learned the hard way that the simplest way to prevent anyone from stopping them was to lock the other doors. Everywhere on the ship.

  Naturally, that caused a flurry of calls to the engineering section. Or maintenance, rather, for it was a station.

  “Right,” Sale said to van Heel and Chaudry. “Follow the open doors to the weapons. If anyone stops you, knock them out.”

  They took off running.

  Ean opened the doors for them.

  When they had a long stretch of corridor and no doors to open, he sang up the cameras again, and sent them to the captains of the other ships and Confluence Station. A five-by-four matrix, cycling through, one new image every five seconds, with the oldest one dropping off. “See if you can find Han.”

  He turned back to opening doors for van Heel and Chaudry, and the rest of his attention to what was happening in Radko’s room.

  He was glad to have something to concentrate on, for the discomfort of the linesmen was starting to get to him. Those who were still left standing, for he was queasily aware that many of them weren’t moving.

  Why didn’t someone give them oxygen?

  In Radko’s interrogation room, Commodore Bach was saying exactly that. “Give them oxygen, then. Those paramedics were sent with the trainees for a reason.”

  “What the hell do they need oxygen for? The air on station’s fine.” Jakob thrust readings in front of Bach.

  “Line eleven interferes with the heart-brain mechanism,” Radko said. “Their heart tries to pump a different way. If you don’t get out there and give them oxygen, some of them are likely to suffocate.”

  Ean cheered. “Thank you, Radko. Thank you.”

  “And you know this? How?”

  “She is one of Galenos’s people,” Bach said.

  “Galenos has a lot of people under him.”

  “Do you want to save your linesmen?” Radko asked. “Because you should be getting oxygen to them.”

  “She also works with Linesman Lambert. That’s why you need to keep her alive.”

  “When did you plan on telling me this?” But at least Jakob called Dr. Quinn. Ean followed the call through to the other end, where Quinn was ignoring it.

  Jakob called up a soldier. “Get down to Dr. Quinn. I need him to answer his comms.”

  Ean opened the doors for the soldier as he jogged down to where Quinn was working on one of his linesmen. “Commander Jakob wants to talk to you.”

  “I’m busy. I’ve got three linesmen down with heart attacks.”

  The soldier took out his own comms and called Jakob. “With Dr. Quinn now, sir,” and held the comms close to Quinn’s ear.

  “Dr. Quinn. Your linesman needs oxygen.”

  “Suddenly you’re an expert on what the problem is.”

  “All of them. They all need oxygen,” Ean said.

  Radko said, at the same time, “They all need oxygen.”

  “Why doesn’t Dr. Quinn already know this?” Jakob asked.

  “I don’t know,” Radko said. “Any normal doctor would.”

  Why didn’t Quinn know it? It was the first thing Abram and Michelle had tried when Ean had been struck down by line eleven. Thank the lines for Radko, who did.

  “I love you, Radko,” Ean whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  He became aware Sale was looking at him. “She’s good,” he said, and turned back to what was happening on station.

  “Send your own soldiers down to do it if Quinn won’t,” Radko said.

  Jakob glanced from her to Bach and back again.

  “Works with Lambert,” Bach reminded him.

  Jakob called up a group leader. “Get oxygen to the linesmen. Every single one of them if necessary.”

  Ean sang the doors unlocked between them and the linesmen.

  Van Heel and Chaudry reached the weapons store.

  “Ean,” Sale said. Ean was already singing the locks on the cupboards open. “I need to talk to them again.”

  He sang open the link to the speakers close to the weapons store.

  “Take extras for Radko and Han,” Sale ordered. “If you can find holsters in a hurry, take them, and take spare blasters. Radko can fire two at once.”

  And hit separate targets on the bull’s-eye with them, multiple times in a row. Ean had been to weapons practice with her.

  Now he had to send van Heel and Chaudry back to Radko, avoiding any of the soldiers Jakob had sent to treat the linesmen.

  And they still hadn’t found Han.

  “Sale,” Craik said. “You need to see this.”

  Sale came across to look. “What is it?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  “Ean,” Vega said, “the corridor where they’re holding Radko. All the way down to the lifts. The security camera is on a loop. Someone has tampered with it. We’re not getting the proper image. We can’t see it. Someone is hiding out in that corridor. Find out who, and what?”

  Ean hurriedly dragged his attention away from what was happening inside Radko’s prison room to the corridor outside. “Two men,” he said. “Armed.”

  They were outside Radko’s door, one on either side of the doorway, weapons raised. One of the men signaled.

  “They’re about to attack.” Ean readied himself to sing line eight.

  The second man nodded.

  Ean recognized him from the image Vega had sent through. He changed his tune. “Unlock the door.”

  “We’ve found Han,” he told Vega.

  The two men charged into the room together. As they did, Ean saw the first man’s face. A man he’d only seen twice but whose features were etched in Ean’s memory.

  Stellan Vilhjalmsson. Gate Union assassin, and a man who’d already tried to kill Radko once.

  “Protect Radko,” he sang to station line eight.

  “Protect? Radko?”

  “In the room. That one.” How did you explain to a strange line what you wanted it to do? “The protection field.”

  Human-built lines didn’t have alien knowledge behind them. One thing was for sure. The Havortian had never used its protective field. The Lancastrian Princess and the Gruen must have learned it from the Eleven.

  For a frantic few seconds, Ean considered singing the station into the Confluence fleet, no matter what Vega said. Instead, he sang the lights down in a panicked hope that if they couldn’t see Radko, they couldn’t fire on her.

  The emergency lights stayed up, and they weren’t run on lines.

  “Sale. Radko’s in trouble.”

  “So are we, Ean. A class-two warship’s just arrived.”

  “Two now,” Craik said.

  TWENTY-NINE

  DOMINIQUE RADKO

  JAKOB LEFT THE images of the linesmen on-screen. Radko didn’t relax until she saw the first soldiers arrive with oxygen. There was something about watching linesmen, and not being able to help, that made her feel helpless.

  “I’m not liking the silence from your man, Rigg,” Jakob told Bach.

  “You know ops. They seldom go to plan,” but Bach looked at Radko as if he wanted to ask if she knew what was happening.

  Radko would rather spit on him than tell him anything.

  Jakob’s comms sounded.

  “Warship Hellfire in position,” reported the man who’d called.

  Another call followed immediately after. “Warship Brimstone in position.”

  “About time something went to plan. Attack the alien ship.”

  “What about my people on that ship?” Bach demanded.

  “They’re not responding. We can only assume they’re not in control.”

  Radko hid her grin. He’d be r
ight about that.

  The door opened.

  Radko heard the distinctive hum of a blaster on stun. Jakob collapsed.

  Stellan Vilhjalmsson. And Han.

  Vilhjalmsson had fired.

  The lights went out, leaving emergency lighting on the floor as the only source of illumination. The sound of Ean singing came through the speakers. Line eight, Radko guessed, but nothing happened.

  Han’s weapon was pointing at Bach. He made an “Oh” of recognized horror, pushed his blaster up and away at the last moment, and fired into the ceiling instead.

  Bach’s own weapon was out by then.

  He fired.

  Han went down.

  There was no associated smell of burning. Bach, at least, had his blaster on stun.

  Bach turned to Vilhjalmsson. Vilhjalmsson had already moved. Bach fired wide, to where the assassin would have been if he’d moved at his usual speed.

  “You’re slowing down, Vilhjalmsson.”

  Even Bach knew the assassin.

  Vilhjalmsson grunted. “If it saves my life.”

  Van Heel and Chaudry burst into the room.

  “Fire on the right,” Radko said, urgently. “Van Heel, take the man on the right out.”

  Thank goodness the lights were too dim for her to recognize Bach immediately. Otherwise, she’d stop, like Han had.

  Van Heel fired. She missed but distracted Bach long enough for Vilhjalmsson to kick the weapon out of Bach’s hand.

  “Chaudry. Get me out of this chair.”

  “I can’t see,” Chaudry said.

  “Ean.”

  The lights came back up.

  Van Heel made a sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp. “Sir.” She started to hold out her weapon.

  “Don’t,” Radko said sharply. “He’s a traitor. Chaudry,” for Chaudry didn’t seem to recognize him and was stolidly working on the fastenings. “Cover Bach. Don’t let him near a weapon. Van Heel, come and free me.”

  Chaudry covered Bach.

  Van Heel came over to work on the clips. She lowered her voice. “Do you know who he is?”

  “Of course I do. That makes his being a traitor even worse.”

  “How do you know he’s a traitor?”

  Bach seemed to watch Vilhjalmsson, rather than them, although Radko was sure he knew exactly what they were doing and would seize any opportunity.

  The restraining bands around her shoulders fell away. She flexed them as she watched Vilhjalmsson. That last kick seemed to have done some damage, for he was moving carefully, and a light sheen of sweat showed on his face.

  “Why were you working with Han?” She had to assume he was, for he had worked against Jakob and Bach.

  “Escape, pure and simple. It suited us both.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Han was the only one left when I arrived at the labs on Aeolus. He’d overheard where you were being evacuated to. We joined forces to get onto the station. Unfortunately, I was captured not long after. He found me while he was looking for you.”

  “Radko.” Ean’s voice was urgent through the speaker. “You have to hurry.”

  The bands around her wrists fell away.

  “I can’t control line eight on the station. It doesn’t understand.”

  “That’s fine, Ean. We’re good. We’re armed,” as van Heel handed her a blaster.

  “What happened to the woman, Sale, who was telling us what to do?” Chaudry asked. He, too, was watching Vilhjalmsson—with the professional eye of a doctor. “We need to stabilize your back.”

  “Sale’s here,” Ean said. “You need to get to a shuttle, Radko. The station commander has weapons ready to fire, and he’s sent soldiers down to where you are. If you don’t leave soon, there won’t be any passages to leave by.” A pause. “And we’ve got a problem our end.”

  Radko knew what that problem would be. “Two warships?”

  “Yes.”

  Warships weren’t something Radko could worry about. “You worry about the warships, Ean. We’ll get to the shuttles. Right,” she added, as van Heel loosened the bindings around her ankles. She stood up. “Let’s go.” Radko pointed her weapon at Bach. “Chaudry, can you take Han?”

  Chaudry hoisted Han over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Ready.”

  “I’ve sung the doors open,” Ean said. “Hurry.”

  Radko stopped first, to go through Jakob’s pockets. He had three comms. She took them all, and made sure they were zipped securely in her pocket before anything else. Then she indicated with her blaster. “You’re coming with us, Bach. You’ll be tried for treason against Lancia.”

  Bach smiled faintly. “We’ll see.” He moved toward the door. “Which way?”

  “Follow the open doors,” Radko said.

  They turned left outside the door because the passage to the right was blocked by massive breach doors. Ean, bless him, had closed every single door they didn’t need. They moved as fast as they could but, hampered as they were by Chaudry’s load and Vilhjalmsson’s back, they were slow.

  Every soldier on ship would be at the shuttle bay by the time they got there.

  Radko didn’t think about that. Worry about what you could control, trust Ean to do the rest. All the same, she’d be glad when they were on the Eleven.

  “What weapons does Captain Kari Wang have ready?” she asked Ean.

  There was a momentary silence, then a sheepish “Um” from Ean, through the speakers.

  She knew how to read Ean. “You’re not on the Eleven?” But the ship was an Eleven class. There was only one other Eleven-class ship. “You brought the Confluence.”

  THIRTY

  EAN LAMBERT

  “EAN,” SALE SAID. “Turn this ship. Now.”

  “Turn how? Turn where?” She’d be smarter telling the ship direct.

  “Seventy degrees any way. One of those warships is pointing directly at the shuttle bay where we’ve housed the prisoners. Move Ean, move it now.”

  The ship was already turning.

  “Thank you.”

  Ean hadn’t done anything. He added his own thanks. “Thank you. What Sale wants, you give. Okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hit,” Craik said. “One of the big cargo bays in section six. Can’t tell the damage.”

  The Confluence was already closing the breach doors.

  “Weapons,” Ean sang to line eight. “What have you got?” Because he knew that’s what Sale would ask next.

  He was swamped with the same overlay that had overwhelmed him before.

  “We’re sitting ducks here,” Sale said. “Ean, I need weapons. And don’t give me that green protective field.”

  Ean seized on the only one he recognized. “That one.” Quiet, blue, hot blood. “Sale, which ship do you want to aim at first?”

  “Shit.” A two-second pause. “Hellfire.”

  “Which one’s that?”

  Another second while Sale oriented herself between human screen and alien displays. “That one.”

  “That one,” Ean whispered. “Do it now. Do it quick.”

  “I need weapons, Ean. I need them yesterday.”

  “Coming.” But they were in the void, and he wasn’t sure if Sale heard him. Line eight released the weapon, then they were out again. A blue ball of flame engulfed Hellfire. Ean was ready for the metallic smell of hot blood that flooded the ship, but he still staggered. The lines on the Hellfire went dead.

  “Shit. Was that you, Ean?”

  “It was the ship.” Sale needed to learn what the ship was doing for her.

  He took a moment to see what was happening on the station. Radko was taking forever to get to the shuttle bays.

  The commander had stopped trying to call Jakob, stopped trying to get through the locked doors. He turned his a
ttention to the Confluence. “Weapons, armed.” He didn’t have a full crew at the weapons bay, but he had enough to man and load them.

  “Hellfire is no longer firing,” Craik said.

  Hellfire was a dead ship. But the Brimstone was still firing.

  “Nice shooting, Ean,” Sale said.

  “You should compliment the ship.”

  Sale looked at him, then said, “Thank you, ship,” but she turned back to Ean immediately.

  “You should always thank the ship.”

  “Right, I get the message. Now what do we do about the other ship, and how long is this one out for?”

  “We can’t use the blue thing again. It takes time to recharge.”

  “We need a miracle, Ean. We’re undermanned, we have no idea what this ship can do yet, and no one to do it for us.”

  He couldn’t give her a miracle. “Hellfire won’t fire again, it’s dead. I don’t—”

  “Perfect. Thank you. Open the comms to the bridge on the Brimstone.”

  He sang the comms open for her.

  “Brimstone,” Sale said. “This is the Confluence. We have destroyed the Hellfire. If you don’t want the same fate, cease fire now.”

  Ean had just told her they couldn’t do it again yet. He turned his attention to the other problem, because the commander on the station had received a weapons ready from the gunners. He diverted the commander’s comms into the speakers in the corridor where Radko was.

  “Gunnery one,” the commander said. “Fire a salvo in a three, two, five pattern. We’re not aiming to destroy the ship yet, only scare it.”

  Chaudry stopped. “They’re firing at us.”

  “No they’re not,” Radko said, barely audible under the instructions and calls from line five. “Those are the instructions from this station. They’re trying to fire on the Confluence. Keep moving, Chaudry.”

  “If they’re firing on our rescue ship,” van Heel said, “they’ll destroy it before we get there.”