Chapter 24
The data from Intel was waiting for Makasa when he reached his borrowed office on the battleship Maximus, en route for the Ushas area. He sank into his hover chair, which assumed the contours he preferred, drifting at a set height above the floor.
"Tell me the results," Makasa said to the IS.
"Enquiries have been conducted about the ship Vulsaur and the crew thereof. There is no record of these people on Coromandel, their claimed planet of origin."
What a surprise. He hadn't expected there would have been.
"The ship Vulsaur was originally named Curlew."
Makasa nearly tipped out of the chair. The servos whirred, struggling to keep it upright. "What?"
"It arrived at Iniciara under the name and specification for Curlew." The data appeared on the screen. "As you can see, this is the same specification as the original Curlew which was—"
"Yes, yes, lost past Calisto's Veil two years ago." If any doubt had lingered that the woman Biel had seen was Morgan Selwood, it was gone. Where had she been? Where had she picked up these people, and why was she back? And why had she not come to him?
"That's not all, Admiral."
Makasa waved a hand. "Go on."
"The ship Curlew left Iniciara on this date." Data appeared on the screen. "And the ship Vulsaur arrived at Torreno on this date."
Makasa's jaw sagged. Shaking his head, he said, "But that's impossible." He frowned, irritated. They must have made a mistake. "It can't be the same ship. Granted this Vulsaur is a fast yacht but even the fastest military ships need twice the time to cover that distance."
The IS's voice never changed. "I'm to tell you that data has been checked and triple checked, Admiral. This is the same ship."
Makasa drifted the hover chair closer to his desk and propped his chin on his fist. "The only way that's possible is if Vulsaur has an incredible shift drive. Something revolutionary."
A tremor ran through his nerves. Curlew had had a revolutionary shift drive. The techs had been delighted with their efforts. Morgan was running an operational test when the ship had disappeared without a trace. Presumably the shift drive had failed, but what if it hadn't failed? What if these people she was with had stolen the technology? His stomach lurched. What if Morgan had stolen the technology? The very thought made him ill. He'd kept her alive when others wanted to cull her. Was this his reward? In a way, it made sense. What a gift to turn over to an enemy.
Makasa massaged his forehead with his fingertips. And yet. He prided himself on his instinct. Something very strange was happening under his nose. Selwood reappears with a revolutionary shift drive. Cruickshank behaves out of character, and heads for Ushas. Wait a second.
"Was Curlew at Iniciara at the same time as Commander Cruickshank?" he asked the IS.
"It was, Admiral."
Could Cruickshank be following Selwood? But that would mean she knew Morgan was back. Did she know about Vulsaur's shift drive? What was she going to do about it? He needed to talk to Chang and Biel.
"Send messages to Commander Biel and Andrew Chang. Tell them to contact me soonest."
***
Chang was first. With the office sealed against eavesdropping, Makasa turned on the projector. The man appeared, dressed in his usual nondescript attire, sitting on a chair against a wall, beside one of those cheap, mass-produced paintings used to decorate cheap hotel rooms.
"Well, Mister Chang? What do you have for me?"
"Commander Cruickshank has arrived at the space station at Ushas, Sir." As usual, the man's gaze darted around the room. He seemed to be allergic to making eye contact.
"And?"
"I have made contact with Commander Biel, as you instructed. He has been keeping track of Supertech Selwood. She and her companion went off in a stolen vehicle early in the morning. He doesn't know where. Not long afterwards, the rest of the party was arrested."
Chang showed pictures of all of them, three men and a woman, their names already familiar. Arrested for what? Best to let Chang tell the story.
"Where are these people now?"
"They were arrested by the planet's security police, the Trimasi, and taken away. Biel suggests that they were probably taken to the Trimasi headquarters, an island fortress called the Temple," Chang said.
"Do we have any idea why?"
"Biel's enquiries suggest that Ravindra offended an actress, who used influence to have them arrested."
Makasa chuckled. He knew a few actresses like that. But regardless of the reason, Morgan's crew was in jail. He doubted she'd take that lying down.
"See if you can find Selwood and her companion. Talk to Biel. And see if you can get on board Vulsaur. I want to know more about that ship's shift drive."
Chang bowed his head and broke the connection.
Chapter 25
Ravindra went through his mental checklist. Such as it was. He hadn't done anything so blatantly foolhardy and reckless since he was a troop commander. Plans sketchy, possibility of error, huge. No, that wasn't true. Morgan had given him the layout of the base, found the number of troops deployed there. He'd been surprised how few, only fifty, for about as many prisoners. But the purpose of the place was more ceremonial than anything. Partridge had explained that most of the political prisoners were taken away to prison farms in the arctic regions, and left there to die of exposure.
Anyway, there would be six of them against the guards, then Morgan had to get into the ship and fly it. That, at least, was a given. Their gamble that the transport which had taken the crew to the Temple was still there, had to pay off. And then they had to get onto Vulsaur, and escape from the space station before the locals retaliated. Easy.
The lift stopped in the cavern where the submarine rode in its canal.
Morgan leant against his side, a slight pressure. "Okay?"
"Of course." Or he would be when his nerves settled.
"Just like a space flight. Except all the pressure's on the outside," Morgan said.
"I just wish we had a decent plan, not just a series of if statements." Ravindra stepped out of the lift. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner it will be over."
Eastly climbed out of the sub's open hatch. "All aired up, oxygen extractors checked, harpoon gun ready. Welcome aboard."
Ravindra sat on the couch at the back of the control room, Partridge beside him. Eastly sat in the captain's chair, with Morgan at the navigator's station, but no one doubted who was really running the vessel.
"Systems checks clear," she said. "Perimeter clear. Engines engaged."
A brief vibration rose through Ravindra's feet, then flattened out. This time, with the tide high, and stealth advisable, Morgan only raised the sea gate enough to allow the submerged ship to slip into the sea. Ravindra imagined the waves surging just a few meters overhead, battering the cliffs, but the ship rocked only slightly in the swell, with Morgan controlling the stabilizers.
Nobody spoke. Ravindra watched the water sliding past beyond the screens. A streamlined grey shape appeared out of the gloom, then turned to follow their progress before it disappeared again. A school of creatures resembling round, pulsing lights scattered and reformed. Just like space, she'd said. Except for those. What if they encountered more of those things? What were they called? Cardoplasts. Huge heads full of teeth. He squeezed his fists together, one hand then the other.
The basalt cliffs that rose to become the Temple island appeared in the forward screen.
"They've sure got this place wired," Morgan said. "We just passed a sensor on the seabed. They'd know exactly where the best fishing was."
"But not us?" Eastly blurted.
"No, not us. They get no bounce-back from us," she said.
The image of the Temple appeared on the 3D display, showing the tunnels, the cells, the landing pad.
Morgan glanced over her shoulder. "That's what I brought with me. I'll update when I can. I've highlighted the sea gate for you."
Ravindra studied
the tunnel system, memorizing the guard stations. On the display, a guard paraded along a corridor in the cell block, past the rooms where his crew was imprisoned. Hopefully the round would be timed, a circuit every ten minutes or something. A second guard remained in the guard house to monitor the control systems. Without a Supertech along, this raid would be very, very difficult.
"The sea gate is dead ahead, people. I have to bring the sub up a bit." Morgan spoke calmly, stating a fact.
Almost action stations. Ravindra cast a glance at Eastly and Partridge. They'd be nervous about the coming fight. Just the prospect of getting out of this underwater coffin was enough to have relief surging through his system.
Morgan tutted. "Sea gate is damaged." On the display the gate hung ajar, the hinges twisted in some long ago storm event. The gap between it and the opening wasn't enough to let the sub go through. "We'll have to hope we can push our way in."
Slowing the vessel right down, she edged the nose around. The hull shuddered. She backed off and tried again.
The scraping noise set Ravindra's teeth on edge. Gods, if the hull was punctured, they'd be dead. "Can we clear it? In a diving suit?"
She sighed. "I guess it would be best."
Eastly leaped up, his features set. "I'll go. A laser-lance will hack though the bolts. And if it doesn't…" He pulled out a strip of corplast, a plastic explosive designed for use underwater. Partridge had explained they used the stuff for clearing obstacles when diving on a dig.
Morgan smiled her approval. "Just be careful the gate topples the right way."
Eastly was already stripping, while Partridge fetched a suit and checked the fittings.
Ravindra suppressed a shiver. Rather Eastly than him. Although, of course, they would have to go out, too. Speaking of which, he may as well prepare himself. He rose and pulled on his own suit.
By the time Ravindra had finished dressing, Eastly had cleared the sub's airlock, the enormous fins on his feet driving him through the water. The headlamp's light carved through the murk. The advantages of using the light outweighed the chances of the light being seen through the surf above.
The lance ignited, slicing far too slowly through the thick, growth-encrusted hinge. Particles danced in the strange blue light. The lance shut down. Eastly moved himself around to the top of the curved gate and pulled, his legs pumping. And pulled again, raising a cloud of particles with every flip of his fins. The gate shifted as if in slow motion, tearing away from the hinge and drifting downward.
"Yes." Partridge punched the air. "He's got it."
Eastly raised a hand, thumb lifted. Ravindra frowned. That was obscene… but maybe not here. He searched his memory. Ah, that meant 'good'.
"Well done," Morgan said. "No point in coming back in. Meet you inside."
Eastly's metallic voice rang through the speakers. "Will do."
Morgan eased the sub past the broken hinge and the sagging door, which hung below the opening on the remaining hinge.
Turning to Partridge, she said," Time to go, Derryn."
He licked his lips.
Morgan put a hand on his shoulder. "Follow our lead and above all, do as you're told without question. With a bit of luck you won't need to do a thing."
Ravindra pressed the release on the collar of his suit, deploying the helmet over his head. The face plate clicked, and he was breathing suit air. He checked his belt. Laser-lance, cable, knife, packet of corplast. Partridge had the harpoon gun and a grapple. Now for the airlock. The cloying weight of claustrophobia lifted from his heart. Finally, he'd have something to do.
Eastly was waiting for them, smiling inside his helmet. "The lift well is clear. No cable, no lift."
Ravindra swam into the shaft, following the beam of light from his helmet. As soon as his head broke the surface of the water, he turned off the light, and retracted the helmet. Morgan was beside him, felt but not visible. She would be able to see, and darkness would reduce the risk of detection. Water slopped, the sound echoing in the confined space.
"What now?" he whispered.
"There's a door only about a meter up."
"Is it controlled by the system?"
"No. It opens into a storage cellar but that's all I know. It isn't marked on the schematic."
"I can just about climb a meter if the door is open. Maybe the corplast will blast it for us."
"Noisy," she said.
She would be checking for noise with her super hearing capability. Footsteps, voices, heart beats. "Is there anybody in there?"
"Clear."
"Give me some light."
Morgan pulled a torch from her belt and turned it on, flooding the shaft with soft red light. Darkness pressed down somewhere beyond the reach of the beam. Ravindra pulled off a piece of the plastic explosive, just enough to spring the doors, not shatter the opening. He massaged the material, flattening it, then fitted the tiny trigger. Morgan would be able to detonate the stuff with a well-directed thought. Now to get it up there. He removed the weights from his belt, let himself sag, then used his fins to drive himself up. Hanging onto the sill with his fingers, he forced the corplast into the gap between the door and the floor, then fell back into the water.
Morgan glanced at him.
"Do it," he said.
The phut of the detonation filled the tunnel with sound. Debris rained down, adding tiny splashes to the din but it was over in seconds. No light filtered down.
"Did it work?" Ravindra asked.
"Yes. There's a hole, and there's no activity. We're all clear."
"Pass me the grapple. I won't need the gun." Ravindra waited until Morgan pressed the object into his hand.
He thrust himself up again, this time lodging the grapple with its trailing cable on the edge of the sill. It would be enough to get him up and in. His muscles burning, he climbed the rope. The last time he'd done anything like this, he'd been a junior commander and that was a long time ago. His last solid workout in the gym had been longer ago than it should have been, too. Holding on with one hand, he deployed the laser-lance to widen the hole the explosion had made. The door material melted away, leaving a hint of black smoke and a stench. It couldn't be helped. He punched out a last piece with his fist and clambered through the opening.
The air tasted of salt and stagnant water. Nevertheless, he took three deep breaths to satisfy his complaining lungs before he turned on his light enough to get some idea of his surroundings. Oh, Gods. They were boxed in. All he could see was a wall. He ran a hand over the surface and found a join. Compacted shelving?
"Morgan? There's not much room here. There's a wall in the way. Is it compacted shelving?"
"Checking." Her voice echoed in shaft. "Yes. I'll shift them so the gap is where you are. Keep out of the way."
The wall of shelves lurched and, with a low rumble, began to move. A gap appeared in front of him and the sound died away.
Ravindra let the rope down for Morgan, dragging her up easily since she'd jettisoned the weights. She stepped into the narrow gap between the shelves while he dragged the other two men into the cellar.
"All clear?" he asked Morgan.
"Yes. No one in the corridor. "There are stairs to the left, up to the next level where the cells are. We'll have to take out the guards to get in there."
"Good. Then we'll have weapons." Ravindra threw his fins into the lift well with a certain sense of savage joy. He wouldn't be needing those things again. Ever. Like the others, he wore lightweight, flexible shoes that molded to his feet.
Ravindra followed Morgan, running his fingers along the smooth shelving to help guide him. Eastly and Partridge followed him, their footfalls as silent as his own. A narrow space separated the shelves from the wall and the door. When they were all through, Morgan shifted the compactors again to hide the hole in the lift shaft.
One last system check and Morgan opened the door. "There are sensors in the passage," she whispered. "I've fixed the image to an empty corridor but be quick and be qu
iet. The door to the stairs is up ahead on your left, fifty-three-point-two meters away."
Ravindra went first, sprinting up a dimly-lit passage carved into the rock. Partridge, coming behind, stumbled.
Eastly stopped to help him up. "Are you all right?" The words rang loud.
"Quiet," Morgan hissed. "Move it."
She took Partridge's other elbow and hustled him along, through the door and into the stairwell.
"I'm sorry—" Partridge's voice rebounded off the rock walls.
Ravindra clamped his hand over the idiot's mouth, and shook his head.
Morgan pointed a finger, up, then pressed the same finger to her lips. Judging by the scowl on her face, she was as annoyed with these two fools as he was.
Partridge raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Morgan padded up the stairs, until she stood at another door, which he knew led into another corridor. Ravindra crowded close behind her, Partridge and Eastly behind him.
She turned to him, inclined her head, and slipped out the door. Pulling out his knife, Ravindra followed. Morgan would create a diversion, a glitch in the computer system, which she hoped would give them a chance to deal with the guards. Partridge and Eastly would remain in the stairwell until they were called.
This passage was well lit, with a gate adjacent to the guardhouse. Through a transparent pane Ravindra saw two people bent over a screen, their voices a murmur. One was a woman. He quelled the momentary reluctance. She was a guard. That was all. An adversary.
Morgan opened the door. The woman's head jerked up, her mouth an O. Morgan rammed into the man from the side, sending him smashing against the wall. Ravindra jumped the table and had the woman in a headlock before her fingers reached an alarm, tightening his grip until she stopped kicking and collapsed in his arms. Morgan took her opponent's handgun from his sprawled body and handed it to Ravindra, who flicked off the safety and aimed at the guard. Morgan winced when he hit the trigger. The body jerked once.
"Take her uniform," Ravindra said, leaning over the body to remove a pistol and a nerve whip, then pants and jacket. The man's uniform was too small for him, but it would probably fit Eastly.
Morgan's Return Page 20