Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2)

by John Hindmarsh

  The two starships, Wasp and Djamu, had come almost to a stop. Steg was tempted to instruct his two-shuttle force to move up to the freighter, but decided instead to hold off until the Xesset ship was further away.

  After a long delay, the freighter replied, “Damn you. All right, come and carry out your inspection. It’ll be your job that’s at risk when your bosses hear you’ve delayed us.”

  “Wasp to Djamu. Tell your friend to back off. I want at least half a million klicks between it and you, is that clear?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  A shuttle launched from the Xesset ship; Steg assumed it contained reinforcements for the freighter. “Commander, I need Weapons to fire a warning shot in front of that shuttle. We want them to back off.”

  “Sure, Weapons can handle that. We’ll provide a colorful demonstration. Weapons, you heard. Scorch the nose of that Xesset shuttle.”

  Seconds later the flare of a graser blast lit up the region around the Xesset shuttle. The beam must have shaved the heat shield off the front of the small craft, Steg thought. It tumbled until eventually its pilot brought it back under control, and it immediately returned to dock with the Xesset starship.

  “Wasp to Djamu. I said tell your friend to back off. I now want them a million klicks away. Any attempt by them to bring up shields or use weapons will attract my attention, and I assure you, they don’t want that to happen. You will remain in your current location while your companion backs off. Understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” came the reply.

  Slowly, the Xesset starship began to move away from the freighter. It was a gradual and almost painful process. In the meantime, Steg had used the diversion to move his two shuttles closer to the freighter, sheltering the small craft behind the body of the larger starship, away from the Xesset. He navigated his craft towards the freighter’s shuttle bay while Kirby’s pilot directed the second shuttle to its position some fifty or so feet off Djamu’s hull, directly in line with their engine room.

  The freighter crew, under duress, opened the lock to its shuttle bay, and Steg guided the shuttle through the huge access doors and settled the craft onto the deck. Mooring ties automatically locked into place. His shuttle was facing the exit, and he could blast his way through the doors if the freighter crew attempted to trap them. He comlinked to the other shuttle. “Kirby, we’re inside. We’re closing the doors to balance air pressure. We should be through their personnel lock in five.”

  “Roger that. My team is ready to commence entry—we’re in position right above the engine room. Give the signal and we’ll be through the hull in seconds.” Kirby was tasked with piercing the hull and taking over the freighter’s engine room. Without power, the freighter would be at the mercy of Wasp.

  “Good. I’ll keep broadcasting as we progress.”

  Steg led a small team into the lock. Ten more would follow once he was through and into the freighter proper. The remainder would remain on board to protect the shuttle, although he would use them as backups if necessary.

  Steg stepped out of the personnel lock and almost gagged. The starship was in need of a major clean up, starting with the atmosphere. He suspected their scrubbers must be faulty or hadn’t been serviced in a long time. He looked around the entry area—there was debris everywhere. The freighter was a mess; it seemed it had not been cleaned or had even light maintenance for possibly years. He was met by a scruffily dressed bridge officer and three members of Djamu’s crew. Only one, a Xesset, Steg suspected, was in armor. Djamu’s personnel all carried lightweight weapons, which were unlikely to cause damage or injury to his team.

  “I’m Captain Banner, skipper of Djamu,” announced the officer. “I need to see your documents, the originals.”

  “I’m de Coeur, senior officer of Eos Customs.” He handed over a case. “Our credentials.”

  The skipper flipped open the case and gave the contents a cursory glance. He handed the documents to the armored crew member. “Here. Check these,” Banner said. He looked alarmed when more mercenaries followed Steg through the lock.

  “Fifteen of you, all armored up, to check my freight?”

  “We sometimes find we need to protect ourselves,” Steg said. “Can I have the manifests for your delivery to Eos?”

  “Well… I thought we could sit and discuss what you’re looking for, first.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes. You know, I could be extremely generous. I’m sure you and your men could do with some—shall we say—additional spending money?”

  “You have enough to bribe all of us? There’s my men here, another ten in the shuttle bay, and I’ve another shuttle standing off. Plus, of course, there’s our commander and bridge officers and another five teams or more on board our starship.”

  “Well, I didn’t think I’d need to be generous to all of you. Perhaps you and these men here.” He looked around at the heavily armed mercenaries, each wearing Customs badges. Eos had sent badge and other templates with the signed contract. The mercenaries had spread out, some surrounding the small greeting party, while others were positioned ready to advance along the corridor.

  Banner turned to the armored alien. “Are those documents valid?”

  The Xesset grunted and handed back the case to the freighter skipper. “Get on with it,” the alien instructed in awkward Anglo. He added a short sentence in his own language.

  The Xesset’s words triggered a connection and then another and another, all cascading, when Steg recognized that the alien had added: “I should kill you all.”

  He froze for a moment. He had an entire Xesset dictionary available to him; it had been uploaded by a process created by Homeworld’s massive computer system, the Glass Complex. The computer system on the Imperial destroyer ss Ziangka had used the process to dump the Special Force’s entire knowledge of Xesset into his brain, minutes before the Imperials had launched an attack on the fleeing alien starships.

  Steg said, in High Xesset, “All Xesset are would-be killers, it seems.”

  Startled, the alien drew back and raised his weapon, almost defensively. He said, “You—you are a nonbeliever. How can you speak my language?”

  “It is not that difficult. Put your weapon down unless you want my men to shoot you.” The alien did not move. Steg continued, “Where are your companions? You’d better tell them they should surrender to us.”

  The alien backed away, then turned and ran back along the corridor, disappearing around a corner.

  Steg had reached his hand out and stopped his men from firing at the retreating alien.

  “What was that all about?” asked Banner.

  “I told him to surrender.”

  The freighter skipper was ashen faced. “You can speak their language? No one I know can do that. What are you? Are you one of them?”

  Steg ignored the man’s agitation and said. “Cargo manifests, please. I won’t ask a third time.”

  “It—it will take a moment for my cargo master to get them for you.” Banner was perspiring; small beads were running from his receding hairline down the sides of his face.

  Steg triggered the comunit. “Kirby, the skipper and his Xesset friends are stalling. Get ready to penetrate the hull.” His instructions were private, delivered only to his teams. Then he returned his attention to Djamu officer and said, “Banner, stop stalling. Take us to the cargo pods, now.”

  The Djamu skipper and his two crew members at first did not move, despite Steg’s instruction. One of Steg’s men, Cerpio, a heavyworlder, grabbed the freighter’s captain and lifted him effortlessly out of the way of the mercenaries. The crew members turned and ran back along the corridor.

  “Let them go,” Steg instructed.

  To Steg’s surprise, the freighter skipper shrugged off the mercenary’s restraining hand, turned, and headed down the corridor. He said to Steg, “Very well. Follow me. We’ll go to my cargo master’s office.”

  Steg beckoned to his men to move forward. He wasn’t confident the
Xesset would let them access the cargo—there was going to be a confrontation, he was sure. Djamu’s skipper took them along empty corridors, past heavy bulkheads, onwards through what seemed to be the core of an almost deserted and badly maintained starship. Steg thought the crew were in hiding, unwilling to catch his or his team’s attention. He didn’t blame them. The skipper stopped at a door that was signed Cargo Master, knocked, and opened the door. Steg looked past the man into an unoccupied work cabin. It was untidy with papers piled high and spread all over the single desk, with some on the floor. A work unit was also on the desk; the keyboard was sweat-stained, and the case was fractured in places.

  “My cargo master’s office. The man is a coward,” cursed the skipper. “I’m going to have search for details myself.”

  “You can waste your time if you want. I’m not wasting mine. I want access to your container hold, now.” As Steg spoke, he felt a tremble in the structure of the starship. Banner looked startled and then alarmed. The starship was under way.

  “Did you order this?”

  Banner said, “No. Someone—it’s probably the Xesset. I’m losing control of my own ship.”

  “I think you’ve already lost control,” muttered one of the mercenaries.

  Steg instructed Kirby, “Blast away. Get to the controls in the engine room and stop this freighter.”

  “Counting down,” Kirby said.

  Steg visualized the directional explosive device, which Kirby’s team had put in place—all its force was targeted to penetrate the hull of the freighter. Seconds later the exploding device created a different tremble in the structure of the starship. Sirens blared, and emergency locks slammed shut, triggered by air venting out of the ruptured hull.

  “What—what’s happening?” Banner glared at Steg, his alarm morphing into panic. “You, you’ve done something to my ship. I must get to my bridge.”

  At Steg’s signal, Cerpio stepped forward and again restrained the skipper. “No,” the heavyworlder said. “You’re staying with us.” Banner struggled for a moment and then seemed to inwardly collapsed, perhaps realizing he could not escape.

  “Captain Banner,” Steg said. “The attempted departure of your vessel while undergoing customs inspection is a breach of inter-system trade regulations and of our laws. You and the freighter are now under arrest; we’ll formalize all of this after we inspect some of your containers. Restrain him, Cerpio. Kirby, how’s progress?”

  Kirby provided a running commentary of his progress. “We’ve penetrated the hull, as you probably can tell. Emergency lock doors dropped into place as they’re supposed to, preventing atmosphere evac. No one’s in sight, nothing’s here to stop us. We’re through the emergency airlock. We’re now at the engine room. There’s only an engineer and two stokers here. They’re unarmed. We’re about to cut power to the drive, brace yourself.”

  The freighter shuddered and jarred as it came to an uncontrolled halt. Dust fell from stanchions and out of unseen crevices. Small items, fragile, fell and broke, shattering on the gray plasteel floors, while other items, hardier, thumped and bounced when they hit the floor. Steg and his men braced themselves against the walls of the corridor while the starship rippled and flexed, until finally everything settled. Banner was thrown to the floor by the shock wave. The silence was startling. Except for a hiss of air as the ventilators continued their function, the freighter was still, silent, stationary.

  Steg assisted the shaken freighter captain to his feet. He asked, “How many of the aliens are on board?”

  “Aliens?”

  “The Xesset? How many are on your ship?”

  “Just—just three of them. One is always on the bridge, and one—protects—me. The third one’s in charge.” He gave a short laugh that almost turned into a cry.

  “Did you hear that?” Steg asked Kirby.

  “Yes. I can leave Riddell with seven or eight men in control of the engine room and join up with you, if you like. The pilot’s got our shuttle locked down onto the hull, and I’ll leave two men to support him. I can bring the rest with me.”

  “Good. Tell Riddell the three Xesset could prove to be tough opposition if they decide to try to regain control of the engine room. We’ll head to the nearest cargo pod. Hold on for a moment; let me confirm our destination.” Steg had details of the freighter’s layout from earlier records provided by Monty. He looked at Banner. “Lock 14F—that accesses the nearest cargo pod?”

  “What?”

  “14F—that’ll allow us to access cargo?”

  “Yes, yes.” The man seemed to be pre-occupied. “The Xesset will try to stop you, though.”

  “Let me worry about them,” Steg replied. “Kirby, 14F is confirmed. We’re heading there now. I’ll bring the skipper. Join me.”

  *****

  Chapter 26

  Steg watched while Banner made two attempts to key in the pass code. Both attempts were failures. He tried again, this time taking care to control his shaking hands. The retaining bolts clicked and the pneumatics controlling the huge door into the cargo pod slowly slid it open. Lights switched on, revealing row after row of containers. Each container, Steg estimated, was fifty feet long, and fifteen high by fifteen wide. They were stacked in blocks, four containers high with two rows, each row five containers long, so that a block held 40 containers. He counted ten blocks in the pod.

  “There must be hundreds of the damn things,” Kirby said. He and his men had met up with Steg a minute or so after he had reached the access lock.

  “About four hundred in this pod,” the skipper clarified.

  “How many in total?” Steg asked.

  “We have five cargo pods, so two thousand containers.”

  “All full? Two thousand fully loaded containers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hell—someone’s serious about starting a war. Very well. Tell me what these contain?” Steg indicated the nearest block.

  “There’s a detailed manifest recorded at the front of each of the blocks,” the skipper said. He reached for the compad for the first block and handed it to Steg.

  He read through the summary. For some containers, the contents list was a simple description, one line. Others were more complex.

  “So this first one, here,” Steg tapped the container, “contains three-inch bolts? With packaging? Now why wouldn’t your customer use 4D printers to manufacture whatever bolts they required?”

  The freighter skipper was even more nervous. “I—I don’t know. They ordered bolts, we received bolts, we’ll deliver bolts.”

  “Not munitions?” Kirby queried.

  “Munitions? Of course not. We’re not gunrunners,” the skipper protested.

  Steg said, “I want my men to open that container. If you don’t have keys and the combination, my men will cut off the locks.”

  “No-no, they’ll kill me—”

  “Who’s they, and why will they kill you?”

  “The Xesset. It’s my death sentence if I allow you—”

  “You’re not allowing us. We’re doing that entirely on our own. Go ahead.” Steg turned to two of his men and pointed at the container lock.

  Seconds later the door was open. One of the marines tugged at a heavy carton and tore it open. He pulled out a box; it contained an ammunition belt with .50 caliber bullets. “These are strange bolts,” the man said, trying to hide his smile.

  “Well, Banner?” Steg asked.

  “Come to my cabin, and we’ll discuss this,” the skipper offered.

  Steg laughed. “Oh, no. This is a non-bribable situation. We can discuss whatever we need to, here and then on your bridge.” Steg looked at the details displayed on the compad for other containers. He tapped on the door of the next container. He said, “I suppose this contains heavy weapons, not farm machinery? And the next one doesn’t contain irrigation piping—perhaps ground to air missiles?”

  “I don’t know!” the skipper almost shouted his protest. “It must be the Xesset—the aliens
and my cargo master—they’ve conspired to bring a container of weapons on board. I knew nothing about this, nothing.” He was almost in tears.

  Steg decided the man was an excellent actor. “So if we examine some of the other containers, we won’t find any more weapons?”

  “How would I know, I’m only the skipper? No one tells me anything. I’m innocent, I tell you. It’s those aliens, it’s all their fault.”

  Steg instructed his men to examine three more containers further into the cargo pod. They contained weapons or other military materiel. Steg communicated his findings to Dean, still on board Wasp.

  “It sounds as though they have enough there to start a war,” Dean said.

  “I suspect that’s the intention,” Steg agreed. “We’ll place guards to prevent access to the pod access locks. I’ll take Banner to the bridge. I need to go through the formalities for his arrest and for taking possession of the freighter. I’ll let you know if we need help.”

  “We can send more men, if you need.”

  “Good. We’ve enough men for the moment. As a precaution, though, you could get a company prepped and armored. I’ll let you know if we need them—it’ll only be if it starts to go pear shaped,” Steg said.

  “Okay. I’ll report your situation to Gillespie; she asked to be kept informed.”

  Steg turned to Kirby. “I want you to set guards on the access locks to the cargo pods. Four men for each. Check if the locks can be blocked off. Set up a barrier for protection. You know the rest.”

  “You think the Xesset might try to take control of the cargo?” Kirby asked.

  “Well, more than take control, once they realize they have few alternatives. If the Xesset decide to detonate some of the missiles, for example, that’ll ignite the other explosive materiel and we’ll have a complete disaster on our hands. We may not survive it. They could detach the pods; we’d be exposed if we attempted to recover them.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take care of that.”