“Aaagh!” Bailly yelled, hopping up and down on one foot. Another pinpoint stung him. We thundered into the next room, followed by gunfire from the left stitching the wall with red-lit holes. How many charges did a hand weapon like that hold, anyhow? I would have liked to get a look at the power plant. It would be a useful modification to make to existing military handguns. I would make the suggestion to the ship’s armorer—if we lived.
The pirate captain, alas, had worked his way back to rejoin his fellows some half an hour before. As he had a carrying voice, I couldn’t help but overhear his ringing condemnation of our force, me in particular.
“. . . Light-footed, weak-chinned softskin thinks he can make fools out of us, I’ll blast off a piece of him at a time and make him cry before he dies!”
In the pale light, I caught smirks on the faces of my shipmates from the Wedjet, particularly Plet, but only temporary ones.
“Then the rest of those meddling rent-a-cops. Not a real threat in the bunch!”
At that, Plet had frowned, and her fingerspelling to me had become much more purposeful. Together we had worked out a defense of evasion and eluding. She would continue to send out SOS messages to Parsons, the Wedjet and the station authorities, until the rest of us were overcome or rescue came.
We came to a T-intersection where our choices were to take stairs up to the right or down to the left.
“By my calculations,” I spelled to the viewpad, “we should go left.”
“But that takes us down, right into the arms of the enemy,” Plet argued back.
“Our last turn was right,” I pointed out.
“But we keep hitting dead ends,” she reasoned. “This can’t be your way out. Let’s take another right and get the sequence back in order.”
I could hardly fault her reasoning. According to the maze I had designed, we should have had an easy egress from the pattern. We turned upward, keeping our pace as light as possible.
The stairs up were as solid as though carved from a mountain. I led the way with my sword drawn, hoping I would not have to use it. I heard repeated over and over again the request for assistance, but I refused to lose hope. I was the undefeated champion of maze croquet in the Imperium Compound on the homeworld. Once I got my bearings, we would be out of the puzzle in a moment, and I could seal off the escape route behind us.
Up, up we climbed, four, five, six flights. No exit offered itself until the top, when we were confronted with another flight of stairs, this one pointing downward and to the right.
“That can’t be correct,” I said, frowning.
“Obviously, you miscalculated,” Plet spelled.
“Not a chance!” I flashed back. I experienced an unnatural feeling of doubt. Had I miscalculated? Not possible! But more than a game hung upon my decision.
“Should we go back?”
“No way back,” Chan interrupted, adding her own signs. “Got to keep going ahead of them. We’re behind you, Ensign-Captain, whatever happens.” I turned to see eagerness and admiration shining in her eyes. “We haven’t had this much fun since we hit a pocket of laughing gas in the mines.” Her fellows nodded their approval. “If we buy it, then, hey, we buy it, but you won’t let that happen. We know it.”
I felt a weight of responsibility on my shoulders, but it was lightened by the feeling of being accepted as a leader.
“I’ll try,” I said humbly. I straightened my back and brandished my sword. “Downward, then, to glory.”
To my relief, the maze opened out into wider corridors. The right at the top of the stairs was followed by a left, then an unmistakable right and another left. Success! I picked up the pace, heedless of the noise of my boot soles. We would be out in a trice. And we had not met another pirate in minutes.
There was no doubt that we were following their path, however. Destruction had been rained down upon the facility to a point where I was certain that the place would have to be gutted and rebuilt before it could be used again. The soiree that Ms. Lutsen had mentioned was scheduled to use the room, I feared, would have to be relocated. It must already have been. I had lost track of time.
Damaged lamps lent feeble illumination to the floor, but to my astonishment and delight, another source of light was visible. At the end of the corridor through which we were running, brilliant lights gleamed. The exit must be there! I signed to my force to pick up the pace. We must have time to reach it!
I could hear the sound of running paralleling our course. I looked down. The enemy had found us! They shook their fists at us and fired off more charges. Luckily, the floor was made of the same material as the landing strip. It did not shatter. I heard the pirate captain’s voice shouting, exhorting his comrades to hurry.
The walls of the corridor fell away, revealing a parapet. An atrium that bisected the entire complex reached all the way to the ballroom ceiling. Above me, several floors up, I could see the landing strip and the hijacked vessel. I hurtled over the low rail and leaped across the short gap onto another. The pirates, one level below us, ran into a blank wall, no egress to the atrium. I heard their shouts as they looked for a way up. One after another, my company followed me. The last to come were the two soldiers in power suits.
“Hold it, sir,” came a weary voice, the sturdy young woman. “We can’t keep up with you.”
“Hurry,” I urged. “Can’t you launch your way over?”
“No thrust,” said the old man in the other suit, the one that had one arm torn off by the Solinian. “These ain’t really made for runnin’. Let us take care of the wounded. Those scum won’t get past us, I swear it, Ensign-Captain.”
I glanced at the glistening faces of the injured soldiers, and realized it was my call to make. They were tolerating pain, but they were too tired to go on. I feared for them, but they were better protected in their suits than the rest of us. It was a good solution.
“So ordered,” I said. “Keep as silent as you can. Stay out of sight!”
“Got it, sir,” the old man said. “You’re a good man.” The creaking cyber arm bent upward in a salute. I returned it with respect and humility.
More silently than I would have thought of such decrepit armor, he and the young woman withdrew into the corridor from which we had come. Staggering on one another’s shoulders, the injured went with them, including Bailly, my own midshipman. Angrily, I took a stunner rifle from Margolies and blasted it at the chamber where the pirates were.
The bark of energy weapons sounded from behind the wall. Explosive impacts meant they were trying to blast through to get at us. I sent most of the troop on ahead, remaining behind with Chan and Oskelev until I saw the pirates break through. I waved the license at them. They roared and swore at us. The captain had indeed rejoined them. He gestured to them to start swarming over the edge of the balcony to make a leap at the floor two below us. I fled into the corridor, overtaking the remaining militia.
Pew! A solid object shot out from our right. We flattened ourselves and looked for the projectile. Had they acquired pellet weapons from somewhere? Juhrman picked up an object from the floor and tossed it to me.
“Capacitor,” he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief and clambered to my feet. The others followed. The pale light of the anteroom beckoned to us.
But another light asserted itself ahead. On the right-hand wall, a blob of redness blossomed at chest height. I heard the rising whistle of alarms from the energy weapons, informing me that their safeties had been turned off. The pirates were pooling their resources to break through. I opened up my stride. We were moments from freedom. We must escape now!
“The timer, sir!” Plet shouted.
I looked at my viewpad. My heart sank as the digits flipped from one second to none. Suddenly, the walls shifted again. The exit disappeared, and a corridor opened up to the right at the end of the room. I groaned. It was closer than the previous turning, but it pointed the wrong way!
Ahead, the dark blue wall covering burst into f
lames, and the structure itself slagged into a pool of molten sludge. The Croctoid captain leaped through the glowing opening in between us and our escape, and leveled his pistol at us.
“Gimme that license!” he roared.
“Retreat!” I shouted.
We turned on our heels, and charged straight into a wall. The open corridor had become a dead end, a very brief dead end. I plowed directly into Plet and Chan, who fell over Juhrman and Margolies, who had impacted half a dozen other soldiers.
I had no choice. I picked myself up, turned back and charged, sword point forward.
“Attack!” I cried.
“The Imperium!” bayed my crew.
“Smithereen!” the militia yelled.
We ran at the captain, ducking and weaving to avoid his shots. What stun charges we had left, I ordered discharged at him. It was a forlorn hope, indeed, but what choice did we have? Chop off the head, and perhaps the rest of the gang would surrender. I knew in a similar circumstance that I wouldn’t give in. The pirates had proved worthy adversaries.
More pirates poured out of the still-hot hole in the wall and engaged with my troops. My heart was heavy that some of the brave males and females of the Smithereen militia would be killed. Our only consolation was that it would be a glorious death, for the sake of the Imperium. Perhaps the Emperor would even say our names in one of the memorial broadcasts at the holiday season. Parsons would find my body and see that it went home to my mother.
My heroic fantasies were interrupted by a searing pain in my right upper arm. One of the captain’s blasts had struck me at last. I staggered backwards a pace, shocked by the agony of my limb as it fell limp.
“Sir!” Plet cried. “You’re wounded.”
“Keep going!” I gritted my teeth. My sword was intact. With my left hand I grabbed for the weapon before it fell to the ground and brandished it.
With a bound, I leaped and lunged, sticking the point of my sword into the Croctoid’s throat. Purple ichor spurted.
“You will never defeat a Kinago!” I cried.
The Croc grabbed the blade in his fist and squeezed. Heedless of the blood running down between his pads, he bent the end of my ancestor’s sword. I yanked it back and struck again. He clouted me in the head with his pistol. Sparks of light flooded my vision along with the pain. He would tear me apart now, and I could not stop him. In my mind, I imagined for myself a beautiful funeral, citing my bravery. I hoped that at least one of my companions who had witnessed my last stand against the pirate captain would survive, when suddenly my communications unit erupted with a familiar voice.
“Prepare for unconsciousness, sir.”
“Parsons!” I cried, relieved. “Where have you been?”
“Prepare, sir. Mobicon Nine.”
I knew the chemical in question. It and others like it had been part of our training. M-9 was a gas that would incapacitate even the largest and most dangerous being in a matter of seconds. Those who breathed it often injured themselves falling after being knocked out.
“Everyone lie on the floor!” I ordered. My voice was just audible over a barrage of shots from the enemy, but the interference that had plagued us for the last hours had passed. I let my knees go limp and fell right out of the surprised captain’s grasp. My entire remaining force dropped to the floor. I had just enough remaining consciousness to see the gigantic Solinian squeezing through the wall over my head as the gas hit him. Then he landed on me, and I knew no more.
Chapter 18
Unconsciousness was a relief, I realized in retrospect. When light invaded via a slit between my eyelids, I found that I hurt all over. I discovered I was in a room with gray walls, gray ceiling and, largely, gray instruments. There was no mistaking an industrial infirmary. A wild pattern of color intruded itself. I recognized it as the tattoos belonging to Doc Fedder, full-time bartender and part-time neurosurgeon. He held a hypospray to my neck. After the hiss, much of my pain abated.
“Sir?”
My eyes flew open the rest of the way. The brightness made my eyes hurt, too, but I was glad to see a familiar visage.
“Parsons!” That dignitary was looking down at me, the usual inscrutable expression upon his face. I scanned it for any signs of concern. “Am I all right?”
“A good deal of bruising, sir. The burn on your upper arm took a trifle of intensive regenerative therapy, but it was facilitated by the coma induced by the gas. Doctor Fedder is a fine surgeon.”
“I’ve seen plenty worse,” Doc said, with a self-deprecating grin. “You’re gonna be fine, young man. Don’t wrestle any more Solinians.”
I felt for my ribs, and found them all present and accounted for. “That big fellow knocked all the air out of me.”
“That is why you are awake before most of the others. You inhaled less of the gas.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Four days, sir.”
“Four days!”
“Yes, sir. The Wedjet has arrived. The admiral wishes to see you on board immediately, sir.”
The entire battle came back to me, including the faces of every being in the militia who had been injured in my service, but the last face I saw was that of the Croctoid pirate captain. “Did we get them, Parsons?”
“We did, sir.”
“Is everyone else all right? Did we lose anyone?”
“They’ll recover,” Doc said. “Some of ’em want to keep their war wounds. Badges of honor, hooey.” But he winked at me.
“They earned them,” I said, fumbling for the edge of the thermal cover. “Where are my boots? I want to look my best for the admiral. He’s bound to want to congratulate us.”
Parsons favored me with his best blank expression. “No doubt, sir.”
* * *
“Destruction spread across the colony? A restaurant left awash in its own comestibles? Armed felons left tied up in the service corridors for innocent civilians to come upon unawares? Commandeering and destroying valuable room-dividing equipment in the most elegant hotel in the sector?” Admiral Podesta paced back and forth across my line of sight, his hands clasped behind his back.
“We had no choice, sir,” I said, patiently, for the ninth time. I stood in his study in precisely the same spot and position in which I had been ticked off by him before. Parsons stood at attention at the side of the room, no help to me. I was left on my own to deliver my sitrep. In the stilted language of the military bureaucrat, I am afraid it had not come out sounding as heroic as I believed it had been. Podesta had not received it well, either. He looked more furious than I had ever seen him, even after I had invaded his mess hall in admiral’s trousers. I fully expected to be court-martialed this time, but it would be for the very best of reasons. “They were dangerous criminals. I could not let them depart from Smithereen unhindered. They would only have gone off and robbed another train of cargo ships. And none of the ones we left tied up were armed. We took their guns. Besides, we didn’t do any of the damage to the ballroom. That was all done by the pirates. Er, suspects. Alleged suspects.” Curse it, but it was hard to spout the appropriate jargon. It was so dry.
Podesta swung to a halt and met me nose to nose. His narrow face was red. “That is not the point. It was not your job to apprehend them. It was your job to inform me, and let me decide what action to take.”
“But we were incommunicado, sir. Magnetite, you know.” I shrugged modestly. “I had to do something in the absence of your advice.”
“You didn’t need my advice. You were there to observe, nothing more.”
My emotions got the better of me. “Admiral, they might have gotten away!”
“That would have been correct procedure. You were unprepared for this mission. In fact, it was not your mission. You were to review the local militia, that is all.”
“I did that, sir. They prove to be loyal, effective soldiers.”
“Hmph. They were brave, that’s certain. Having to put up with you, I would also give them commendations for p
atience. You could have gotten them all killed, and yourself along with them!”
“I would be proud to die for my Emperor,” I said, striking a pose. Swiftly, I resumed my rigid posture of attention.
Podesta opened his mouth, snapped it shut, then closed his eyes and shook his head, undoubtedly overcome by my patriotism. Whatever words of praise he had planned to say were lost to posterity. But I understood them nevertheless.
“There were other authorities within reach.”
“I could not persuade the station manager to believe me. I did try, sir. I had proof.” I felt for my camera, restored to my pocket. I held it up. It floated between us. “I believe it will hold up at any trial, sir.”
Podesta waved a hand of dismissal, and the Optique retreated timidly to hover behind me. “I have seen the images. Commander Parsons sent them to me. I have also received bills for damage to that dining establishment, to the hotel and all the other station facilities through which your riot progressed. Almost nine hundred thousand credits’ worth of damage! The Wedjet itself had to abort its patrol and divert back to arrive as quickly as possible. I had to take my ship into that asteroid field instead of avoiding it. Forward scanners are still being recalibrated.”
I was abashed. It had been rather glorious while it lasted, but the admiral was correct. All that had taken place on my watch. It was my responsibility. I could take the punishment. I straightened my posture and stared out over his right shoulder. “I cannot express to you how very sorry I am, sir.”
The admiral let out a heavy sigh. “So am I, Ensign. Especially when you leave me no choice but to . . . commend you.”
I swallowed to clear my ears. Then I checked my memory to see if possibly I had misheard him. My memory insisted that my conscious mind had retained the word correctly. I dared ask for a clarification.
“What, sir?”
Podesta glared. If his eyes had been lasers, he would have been looking through the back of my head. “I said, you will be commended. It is not my first impulse, but the results must and do speak for themselves.”
The View from the Imperium Page 24