Relaunch Mission

by Robyn Bachar

  “The station is requesting to speak with our captain,” the Soviet communications tech said.

  Reasonable. The station wasn’t expecting visitors, and the Yangtze had seen better days. If the ship was still up to military specs it wouldn’t raise an eyebrow, but it was clearly modified—and damaged from its rumble with the Blackjack. With any luck Jiang would convince them that everything was on the up and up.

  “Put them on speaker,” Jiang said. She immediately launched into Cantonese, one of the official languages of the USSR. Lindana spoke it well enough to converse with Jiang when they didn’t want eavesdroppers. Most military personnel had translation programs built into their comms, but the programs were glitchy—slang never translated well, and the programs tripped over things like accents, local dialects and colloquialisms.

  “This is Captain Yang of the transport Yangtze,” Jiang said. “To whom am I speaking?”

  “This is Commander Kornelius Polestra. State your business.”

  “We have damaged fuel cells and request access to your engineering bay to make repairs.”

  It was a legitimate reason for a ship to require aid, and they did have damaged fuel cells that would pass any inspection that Polestra might make. The plan was to have a small team pose as techs and then break off to access the Soviet data network.

  “How were the cells damaged? Are they stable enough to transport?” he asked.

  “We have a new chief engineer. Honestly I think he fucked it up.”

  There was silence over the comm as the commander digested that; Lindana blinked, surprised at Jiang’s choice of words. Apparently they were the right words, because Commander Polestra burst into hearty laughter.

  “Understood. You are clear to dock, Yangtze.”

  Lindana released a breath she’d been holding. This was the first step in what would be a stressful mission, but they passed initial muster.

  It would be simpler to go in guns blazing and force their way in like proper pirates, but Lindana was still a soldier at heart, and none of her people had wanted to take the direct route. They agreed to the path of least resistance, and hopefully by the time the Soviets realized what had happened, the Novosibirsk would be long gone. If they were really fortunate the Soviets wouldn’t even know of their actions at all.

  Lindana wasn’t optimistic that their luck was that good, but she added another prayer anyway. Religion had never been her thing, much to Tomas’s exasperation. The past few years had seen a renewal in his faith as he sought ways to manage his PTSD, but in Lindana’s opinion the only thing that formal prayer brought a person was bad knees.

  The Yangtze eased toward the Korolev, and Lindana was glad she didn’t have to be the one responsible for flying the beast into position. One crunched antennae was probably worth a year’s pay for the average grunt.

  “Hard dock achieved,” the pilot said.

  Jiang rose and tugged at the hem of her jacket. “It’s showtime.”

  * * *

  Makeup concealed Sveta’s fading bruises, and she looked healthy but still nothing like the infamous Red Raiya. The loss of her flaming red hair—along with about fifteen pounds—had transformed her, or perhaps restored her, to Svetlana Grinkov. Useful for the mission, but Lindana was concerned about Sveta’s mental state. She had held up admirably so far, but everyone had their breaking point. This would be the first time since her rescue that Sveta was surrounded by potentially hostile members of the Soviet Union.

  Gabriel was still sulking over the loss of his hair, but the Soviet Union had strict uniform standards that did not allow for his long locks. He had insisted on participating in the mission, and his hair was a casualty of that demand. To be honest, Lindana was a little upset over the loss as well, but she had gotten in one last good pull before they had cut it.

  Jiang led the group in her role as captain. Lindana, Gabriel, Sveta and Sergei played the part of techs in charge of transporting the damaged fuel cells. Sergei would be in charge of repairs while Jiang schmoozed the Korolev’s command crew and Lindana, Gabriel and Sveta searched for information on the secret super weapon.

  The airlock opened to reveal Commander Polestra. He was an older man, likely near retirement judging by his silver hair, and of Eastern European descent—German maybe, or Czech. Polestra was fair-haired and blue eyed, with a tall, robust build meant to chop wood and haul water. Like many men he was immediately smitten by Jiang because she appeared petite and vulnerable. On the surface Jiang looked as though she needed doors opened for her, but the reality was that she could kick her own doors in, no help necessary. Lindana and Jiang had sparred many times, and Jiang always won.

  “Captain Yang, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to be your guide aboard Korolev Station.” The commander bowed, and Lindana bit her tongue. His Cantonese wasn’t bad, but his bow was definitely rusty. There weren’t many social opportunities out here in the middle of nowhere. He’d stepped on someone’s toes to merit a shit assignment like this at the end of his career.

  “I am honored to meet you, Commander Polestra.” Jiang bowed, the picture of grace and deference. Points to her. “If you would be so kind as to direct my specialists to the engineering bay, I would enjoy a tour of your station.”

  Polestra grinned. “Of course. Please, follow me.”

  Jiang was a natural. Lindana kept her head down and pushed her fuel cell, the squeaking wheels of the flat cart loud against the metal deck. The station was quieter than a spaceship—no propulsion needed, and Soviet automation only needed a small crew to monitor it. Two dozen people were assigned to the station, most responsible for upkeep of the various communication systems—techs, not soldiers.

  By the time they reached the engineering bay Jiang had taken the commander’s arm and was giggling at his jokes. Giggling! It was more than a little disconcerting. The commander steered Jiang away and left the team under the supervision of a specialist who looked suspiciously as though he had been sleeping on the job. Putting him back to sleep should be simple, and Lindana doubted that he would find anything unusual about an unscheduled nap.

  Lindana eyed the array of tools, gizmos and other pieces of equipment that she had no idea how to use. Engineering had never been her strong point; she was the sort who hit her data terminal until it cooperated or until a tech appeared to insist that she stop.

  “How long will this take?” she quietly asked Sergei.

  “Depends. It would have been nice if you’d given me more help,” he said.

  “Maybe their tech can help you.”

  Sergei frowned, his disapproval almost palpable as he eyed the Korolev’s crew member with derision. Apparently the man didn’t measure up to Sergei’s standards.

  Lindana shrugged. “Just a thought.”

  “Have him work with Sveta. She knows enough to convince him. Give me ten minutes before you move,” Sergei said.

  Lindana nodded and followed his lead. It felt like the longest, most boring ten minutes of her life. Gabriel once again proved that he was perfect at everything by singlehandedly repairing the damage to his fuel cell in less than ten minutes. She was both irritated and aroused by this, and managed to burn her fingers in her distraction, much to Sergei’s amusement.

  Sveta sedated the Korolev’s tech before Lindana even realized what had happened. One moment the man was bending over his work, and the next he slumped to the floor with a thud.

  “The security feed is on loop. We should have twenty minutes,” Sveta said.

  “Fifteen,” Gabriel guessed. “We estimated the sedative for a person with less body mass. He won’t be out as long.”

  “All the more reason to hurry,” Lindana said.

  “Go.” Sergei waved them on. “I’ll finish up here.”

  * * *

  Their footsteps echoed, eerily loud in the chill silence of the
Korolev’s corridors. Sveta moved with determined purpose, her jaw set in a grim line as she led them off the beaten path and into a series of maintenance shafts. They climbed down narrow ladders and through tight tunnels until Sveta announced that they had reached the access point. Lindana thought the place looked suspiciously like a janitorial closet, but the thick layer of dust coating every surface suggested that it was the maid’s year off. Sveta pried a panel off the wall and the ensuing dust cloud sent everyone into a sneezing fit.

  Gabriel and Sveta seemed to know what they were doing as far as accessing the data network went—which was fortunate, because Lindana had no clue how to do it—and Lindana stood guard as they worked. The pair of them had pulled enough wires to make a multicolored plate of spaghetti, and were now stripping insulation, twisting ends together, and causing other electronic mayhem in order to connect Maria’s tablet to the network. Maria had assured them that her tablet could hack any security system, and Lindana prayed that she was right.

  “Time,” Sveta said.

  “Eleven minutes,” Lindana said. She wondered how Jiang was faring. A tour of Korolev Station likely wouldn’t last very long. Was the commander plying her with vodka and promises? Lindana shuddered. Poor Jiang. Lindana would buy her three boxes of shortbread biscuits at their next stop.

  “This should be the last one.” Gabriel pulled a cable free and the lights went out above them, plunging the room into darkness.

  “That’s...wrong,” Sveta said. Lindana could hear the frown in her voice.

  “Maybe they forgot to pay their power bill,” Lindana joked. She reached for her handlamp, but the lights flickered back on. “There you go. Fixed.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Did you?” Gabriel asked Sveta, who shook her head. “Hmm. No matter. You’re clear to proceed.”

  Sveta took a deep breath as she picked up the tablet. “I’ve bypassed the security firewalls and I’m accessing the network now. I’m deploying Chief Watson’s sweeper programs.”

  “It should go quickly,” Gabriel assured Lindana. “Chief Watson does good work. It’s only a matter of sifting through the layers of Soviet encryption.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Lindana said dryly. Soviet codes were a bitch to crack. It was a problem that had plagued them since the twentieth century.

  “It helps that we’re searching for mentions of me,” Sveta murmured. “There could be any number of top secret weapons programs under development, but there is only one that I stumbled upon. Someone will have connected it to my file. Soviet paperwork is massive and predictable.”

  Lindana edged nearer to Gabriel, and he reached for her hand and held it. His touch was reassuring—his fingers were slightly singed from twisting live wires, but otherwise his hand was warm and solid. Sveta glanced up and snorted.

  “I did warn you that he is too pretty,” she said.

  “I disagree with the idea that too pretty is a bad thing,” Gabriel said. Lindana resisted the urge to nudge him in the ribs and concentrated on keeping watch. It was quiet. Quiet was good. Quiet meant that their absence hadn’t been discovered and that they hadn’t tripped any security alarms. Yet.

  “Preliminary results beginning to populate now,” Sveta said. “Nothing much. The name of the ship we sacked, its itinerary from the run it was on when we attacked it. Destination and port of origin both classified, of course.”

  “Is there a crew list or passenger manifest?” Lindana asked. “We can track their movements before the shipment was loaded.”

  Sveta nodded. “I’m downloading it. The files are encrypted, too, but not as heavily as the information about the piece of the weapon is. Hmm.”

  “Hmm?” Lindana prompted.

  “Medical studies. I recognize the names of the labs. Pharmaceutical companies. I’m not certain why this is connected to weapons research.”

  “Human trials,” Gabriel said. “Or misdirection. They could be using the labs as fronts.”

  “Nine minutes,” Lindana said.

  “The running countdown is not as helpful as you would think,” Sveta retorted.

  “Chase the money,” Gabriel said. “There’s always a military paper trail. Someone requisitioned the ship, and their name may be on the payroll.”

  “This is not my first rodeo, buckaroo,” Sveta scoffed. “Next you will be telling me to track large increases in military spending. I am already on it.”

  “Not bad, for a pirate,” Gabriel said.

  Sveta’s shoulders tensed. “I was not always a pirate,” she said softly. “I’m not certain what I am now.”

  “We’re the good guys,” Lindana said.

  Sveta snorted. “Everyone thinks that they are good guy. Usually that is a sign that you are up to no good. Or on the wrong side.”

  “We’re on our own side now,” Lindana said. “Whether or not it’s the right side will have to wait.”

  The lights flickered again and everyone flinched. “Is that because of the wiring?” Lindana asked.

  “It shouldn’t be,” Gabriel said. “The systems are separate. We didn’t pull any related wires.”

  “I don’t like this. I’m going to check in with Sergei.” Lindana activated her comm, but it remained silent.

  “My comm is down,” Gabriel said.

  “Mine, too. Damn it, I’ve lost the connection.” Sveta thumped the side of her tablet. “The whole network is down.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Gabriel said. Sveta handed him the tablet and he frowned at the screen. “The only way we could lose the connection is if transmissions are being jammed.”

  “Why would the Soviets jam the transmission? Did they discover the breach?” Lindana asked. The lights went out again, and then weak yellow emergency lights came up accompanied by the blaring of alarms. “Shit. Did you get what we need?”

  “No. I need more time.” Sveta grimaced, then grabbed Lindana’s arm. “This is our only chance at this. I need you to get me more time.”

  Lindana nodded and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get it, I promise. Gabriel, let’s move out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Pirates?” Gabriel guessed.

  “Kowalczyk. Has to be,” Lindana said grimly. “That missing pirate must have sent him our position. That, or he finally tracked his shuttle. We should have spaced the damn thing when we had the chance.”

  “Waste not, want not,” Gabriel said. “We’re unarmed and unarmored. Ideas?”

  “The station has to have an armory. At least we’re dressed the part.” Lindana scratched beneath the fur uniform cap and wondered what sort of animal had inspired the original design—some angry Siberian creature that ate frozen tundra for breakfast. The Soviets were too stingy to provide extra fuel to keep their facilities warm, hence necessity of the hat—though the official reason was tradition.

  “If we can get to the ship—” Gabriel started, and she cut him off.

  “They’ll have detached by now.”

  “They have no captain,” he said.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s standard procedure. They’re sitting ducks as long as they’re docked. They need to separate if they have a chance at defending themselves.”

  Gabriel nodded, lips pressed in a grim line. “We need to end the jamming in order to restore the signal. That means we’ll either need to destroy the Blackjack or find a way to deactivate the jammer.”

  “We could try asking Captain Kowalczyk nicely,” she said dryly.

  “He may listen. There’s a first time for everything.”

  “Considerate pirates. It could be the new fashion.” Lindana stopped at a four-way intersection and frowned at the Cyrillic letters. “Okay, Lieutenant Impeccable Russian. Which way to their command center?”

  “I thought we were going to the armory?”

 
“We are. After we fetch Jiang. She counts as a weapon,” Lindana said. Gabriel seemed skeptical, and she grinned. “Trust me.”

  “Of course. This way.”

  The station rattled ominously a few times as they hurried down corridors and climbed maintenance ladders to reach the command level—no sense looking for a lift during a power outage. The Korolev’s command center was abuzz with noise and activity like a nest of angry hornets. Jiang was in the center of the storm, barking orders like a seasoned veteran. She motioned them over to join her.

  “Status?” Jiang asked.

  “Communications are jammed,” Lindana said. “The others are continuing their mission.” Bland enough to explain their situation without revealing the truth. “Orders?”

  “We’re preparing to repel boarders,” Jiang explained. “The Blackjack is engaging the Yangtze. She’s holding her own. The pirates launched a shuttle that has almost completed a hard dock. I want you to join the defenders.”

  “Aye, Captain.” She said it without hesitation, though after a moment the strangeness of it hit her. When was the last time she had called another person “captain”? Not since her Alliance days. Lindana trusted Jiang to take command. “We’ll need weapons.”

  Jiang snapped her fingers and caught the attention of a nearby specialist. “My people need directions to the armory. They’re joining the defense.”

  “Do you think the Yangtze can handle the pirates?” Lindana asked quietly in Cantonese.

  “They did before, but I sent for backup, just in case. They just have to hold out until it arrives.”

  Lindana nodded and turned to Gabriel. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  The Korolev’s crew was frightened. Lindana didn’t blame them—the crew had never experienced anything like this before, because no pirate in their right mind attacked a communications station. Sure there was money to be made in information, but pirates seldom wanted to invest the sort of time it took to sift through data and find a buyer for it. Much easier to raid a target that had physical loot one could steal, carry off and sell on the black market.