by Peter Grant
“Do you have transport for them, sir? Over.”
“Not yet. We’ll have to see what can be arranged. Meanwhile, let me know as soon as the military convoys are past us. Keep a listening watch on this circuit. Over.”
“Aye aye, sir. Over.”
“Number One, are you still on this circuit? Over.”
Senior Lieutenant Laforet answered, “Yes, sir. Over.”
“Launch the cutter and have it stand by, using all its stealth systems to avoid detection. It’s to keep a listening watch on this circuit and avoid all contact with local craft. Stand by to take Pickle out of orbit at short notice and head for the rendezvous point. Do so at once if any small craft try to approach you. Do not, I say again, do not let them board under any circumstances. Over.”
“Understood, sir. Be careful! Over.”
“I’ll do my best. Keep this circuit open at all times. Maxwell standing by.”
As he lowered the phone, Gallegros said, his face tight, “Did I hear what I think I just heard?”
“You did. It looks as if a military takeover is going on – or, more likely, a Kotai takeover using the military as surrogates. Does the mission have emergency evacuation plans?”
“No. Marisela said they weren’t necessary, because we’re diplomats.” His voice was bitter. “She said the locals would be sure to respect our status, because of the danger of United Planets reprisals if they don’t.”
“Yeah, just like the Kotai are respecting the hell out of the UP on Athi! They’re religious fanatics. The UP doesn’t mean spit to them. What transport do you have?”
“One limousine and a van, but we don’t have the keys. The drivers are among the local staff assigned to this mission.”
Steve sighed. “If the drivers aren’t Kotai as well – and that’s a big ‘if’ – I bet they’ve made themselves scarce by now. We’ll have to find another way out.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of running feet, coming from the front door. Lieutenant Chetty skidded to a halt, his eyes wide, breathing heavily. An older man and woman hurried behind him, fear written on their faces.
“Commander! There’s a –”
“Yes, I know, there’s a coup going on. How did you find out?”
“The word’s out all over the city. As I arrived home, I noticed traffic was suddenly getting lighter. Within five minutes of my arrival, we started getting calls from friends. No-one knows who started the rumor, but everyone’s heard it by now. I couldn’t even hire a taxi to come here – they’re all getting off the streets as fast as they can. I ended up taking one from our neighbor, who owns several of them. His drivers were in such a hurry to get off the streets that they left two parked on the street in front of his house, with the starter fobs still inside. He wouldn’t even open his door to me, so I stole one of them and drove my parents here.”
“Where is it now?”
“I parked it on the street outside.” He held up a starter fob.
“Why did you come here? You know the Kotai are likely to come after the delegation. Why didn’t you go somewhere safer?”
Chetty shook his head. His eyes showed his desperation. “I’ve turned down several offers to join the Kotai, so I’m already suspicious in their eyes. My father’s done worse – he’s publicly ridiculed Kodan Sastagan as a fraud and a charlatan. If they take over, and get their hands on him…” He didn’t have to explain. Steve could imagine how a group of religious fanatics would treat someone like that. Chetty continued, “I knew you’d want to get your diplomats to safety, so I thought we could join you. You’ll need someone to direct you through the streets, and we need the safety of your numbers. If worse comes to worst, we may need a way off the planet, too.”
Steve nodded curtly. He didn’t know whether the young officer was trustworthy, but under the circumstances, he had little choice. “You’re right. We can use a guide, so it’s a deal. Those two servicemen who escorted us here this morning – they were Kotai, right?”
“Yes. Their turbans and trishulas proved that.”
“How many of the local staff assigned to this building are likely to be Kotai?”
“I’m sure there’ll be some among them. I’ve no idea how many, though.”
“All right. Show your parents into that room over there.” He pointed to Marisela’s office. “Tell them to be quiet, no matter what they hear. Close the door so no-one can see them.”
“Yes, sir!” The young man turned to his parents and broke into rapid Hindi.
Steve lowered his voice. “Peter, I’m going to take Lieutenant Chetty in there to explain to Marisela what’s going on. While I do that, you hunker down behind that partition over there.” He pointed to one of the open-plan office stalls. “If any of the staff, or the two Kotai security guards who escorted us here this morning, are listening to a bug relaying what’s going on in the conference room, they’ll probably try to arrest the delegation as soon as they hear us. I’m relying on you to help me take them down if we have to.”
Gallegros’ face set in lines of determination. “What do you want me to do?”
“Let them open the door and go in, then hit the last one from behind. I’ll take them from the front. You remember your Fleet unarmed combat training?”
“I sure do!”
“We’re both going to need it today, I think. Is there anything you can use as a weapon?”
The diplomat opened a narrow wooden door on the wall, concealing a fire extinguisher. “This’ll make a dandy club.”
“Good man!” As Lieutenant Chetty closed the office door on his parents, he added, “Remember, because this is a diplomatic mission, there’ll be all sorts of complications if we kill anyone without very good reason. Do your best to disable them, without going too far.”
“Got it.”
Steve turned to Chetty. “We’re going to tell the envoy what’s going on. I don’t know how she’ll react, but it’s not likely to be very good. Make it clear to her that we’ve got to get out of here at once, without delay, OK?”
The Devakai officer gulped. “I – I’ll do my best, sir.”
Steve tapped at the door of the conference room, then led Chetty inside, holding up his hand to interrupt the Political and Economic Counselor’s presentation. Sarah Brightwaters halted in mid-sentence, mouth hanging open in surprise as Steve led Chetty to the head of the room.
“I’m sorry, but something very important has –”
“How dare you interrupt like this?” Marisela rose to her feet, face outraged.
“Ma’am, sit down!” Steve bellowed. The envoy’s face turned white with shock as he continued, “This is an emergency. There appears to be a coup d’état in progress. It looks like the Kotai are taking over the planet. What they’ll do to people like us probably won’t be pretty, since they don’t give a fig for either the United Planets or the Lancastrian Commonwealth – or diplomatic protocol, for that matter. Lieutenant Chetty, tell them.”
As the Devakai officer began to speak, Steve turned to the sideboard and lifted the lid of the urn of coffee, glancing inside. It was less than half full, but that suited him very well, because it would make it easier to lift. A cloud of steam rose from the brown liquid inside. He laid the lid on the sideboard, unplugged the urn from the power socket, and picked up several paper napkins as he heard running feet approaching. He took some napkins in each hand, used them to hold the hot urn as he lifted it, and turned to face the door, which he’d left slightly ajar. “What on earth are you doing?” he heard Marisela ask, but couldn’t spare her any attention.
The door slammed open, and one of the guards from the vehicle stormed inside, brandishing his pistol. He shouted in Galactic Standard English, his voice heavily accented, “Nobody – AAAAAAH!”
Steve tossed the almost-boiling contents of the urn directly into his face. As the man screamed, dropping his weapon, hands flying upward to claw at his eyes, Steve threw the urn at the second guard in line – the other man from
the car – and launched a stamping mae geri frontal kick at the testicles of the first. He felt something pop beneath the ball of his foot as the guard doubled over, his scream cut off as he grabbed at his groin. Steve twisted aside as he recovered his balance, using the motion to spin on his left foot and deliver a mawashi geri roundhouse kick to the second guard’s knee. There was an audible crunching sound as the man’s leg collapsed under him.
Steve segued into a downward elbow strike to his head as he fell, knocking him unconscious, then bent to rip the pistol from his suddenly nerveless grasp. Thrusting himself backward as he came to his feet, he brought it up into a two-handed stance as he began to line it at the two remaining men. They weren’t carrying guns, but both wore sandy brown turbans bearing bronze trishula insignia, and carried straight-bladed katar daggers in their right hands.
Even as Steve dropped into a shooting stance, he saw a fire-extinguisher rise above the head of the last man. It came down with a sickening thud, and the Kotai crumpled to the carpeted floor. The last man whirled around as he heard the impact, swinging his katar in a roundhouse slash. Peter Gallegros parried the blow with the fire extinguisher, the blade making a dull tonk! and a scratching sound as it skidded off the steel cylinder. Steve sprang forward and hit the last Kotai hard at the base of his skull with the pistol’s grip. He dropped like a stone, out cold.
Steve was breathing in great gasps under the sudden adrenaline rush of combat, panting as if he’d just run a race. He bent down and took the gun from next to the first uniformed guard, who was moving weakly on the floor as he clutched at his face and testicles, moaning in agony. Holding a bead pistol in each hand, he turned to face Marisela. “Now do you see what I mean?”
“But – but how – I don’t…”
“How do you think they knew what was going on in here? That’s why I wanted to check earlier whether they had any bugs planted in this room. Clearly, they did. When they heard that we knew about the coup, they came running to capture us before we could escape.”
“But – but – there might be some perfectly innocent explanation for all this!”
Steve felt a surge of anger as he abandoned politeness. “Like what? Why do you think they rushed in here with guns and daggers in their hands, for heaven’s sake? D’you think they wanted a nice, friendly, sociable game of tiddlywinks?” His tone was savage. “The rules have just changed. This is no longer a diplomatic bunfight. The name of this game is survival, and the prize for the loser is death! If you’re in any doubt about that, think about what the Kotai have done to every innocent person they encountered on Athi. What makes you think they won’t do precisely the same to us?”
As he spoke, he noted that Solveig was filming him with a small device. She was clearly as shocked as all the others, but her journalist’s instincts had taken over. He nodded to her. “I’m glad you’re recording this. Please do that as often as you can while we make our escape. We’re going to have to answer to the Department of State, as well as the Department of Defense, for all our actions on Devakai. A record of them will be very valuable.”
“I – I will. I recorded that fight as well.”
“Excellent! That’ll prove we didn’t use lethal force, no matter what the Kotai may allege.” He looked at Lieutenant Chetty. “Help Peter Gallegros to tie these men up. He’s a former Marine officer. He’ll be my second-in-command during this stage of our escape. Take his orders as you would mine. I’m going to look for their recording device, and see whether there’s anything else here that we can use.”
“Yes, sir! Uh – what are we going to use to tie them up?”
Steve pointed to the uniformed men. “They’re carrying a set of handcuffs apiece, and some of the office equipment uses power cords. Cut them off and use them as rope. I’ll see if I can find more. If they start to struggle before you’ve finished securing them, hit them again.” He saw Marisela wince at his less-than-diplomatic suggestion, but she said nothing.
“Yessir!” The Lieutenant bent to take the handcuffs from the belts of the foremost two guards.
Steve looked around. “The rest of you, stay in this room. I mean that. Don’t leave here under any circumstances.” He raised one of the pistols in his hands. “If I see movement out there, I know it’ll be an enemy, so I can defend myself against them if I need to. If you’re moving around as well, I might mistake one of you for a bad guy. You don’t want that to happen, so stay here! Is that clear?”
Marisela bridled. “I’m in charge of this mission! You have no right to give orders to any of us!”
He glared at her. “You’re in charge of the diplomatic mission, ma’am. That mission has just ended! If you want to wait here for the next Kotai party to arrive, and continue your negotiations with them, you’re free to do so – but I’m willing to bet you won’t enjoy it one bit, and you’ll be on your own. As of right now, my ship and crew are in ‘Get the hell out of here’ mode. That’s a Fleet problem, so I’m taking charge. That will continue until you disembark when we get home. Clear?”
She bit her lip and refused to answer, but the other members of the delegation didn’t hesitate. “Y – yes!” “Yessir!” “I get it!” A chorus of replies came back at him as he turned and stepped over the bodies in the doorway.
He handed one of the pistols to Peter. “Take one of the holsters from those two guards, and keep the other for me. Find out whether they have extra ammunition, or anything else that may be useful. Also, take off any of their shirts and turbans that weren’t too badly stained by the coffee. We may need to pass for locals at a distance. If others don’t look too closely, they’ll serve as a disguise.”
“Got it.”
November 29, 2851 GSC, 12:00
As Steve ran towards the foyer, he couldn’t help wondering, Was I too hard on Marisela? After all, she’s one notch below a full ambassador. That diplomatic rank has got to be the equivalent of at least a junior Admiral in the Fleet. If she complains, and the brass decides I was too hard on her, I guess I’ll have done my career no good at all. He mentally shrugged. Oh, well, what’s the use of worrying about it now? We’ve got to get out of here and back to Lancaster. There’ll be time enough to worry about it there!
The staff quarters of the diplomatic guest house were a maze of rooms: a big kitchen, scullery, pantry, store-rooms, bedrooms, a couple of offices, and recreation facilities. They were all deserted. Steve assumed the rest of the staff had run away as soon as the commotion started. If they weren’t Kotai, that was probably the safest thing they could have done.
One of the offices was locked. Steve solved that problem with a hard, stamping kick. The door sprang open, revealing a table supporting a recording device with a set of headphones. Picking them up, he heard the others talking among themselves in the conference room. Clearly, this was the room from which the Kotai had monitored all the mission’s activities and discussions. There was a dial on the device’s console, with stops marked from one to eight. As he clicked through each of them, most were silent, but he heard a murmured conversation in Hindi at position three. He recognized the voices of Lieutenant Chetty’s parents, currently in Marisela’s office.
He used his personal comm unit to take a few hurried photographs of the room, then picked up a small stack of data chips from the table and pushed a button to eject another from the recorder. He dropped them into his pocket. With luck, they would contain everything recorded here since the mission arrived.
Steve searched hurriedly through the kitchen drawers, taking a chef’s knife, then used it to cut the power cords from every small appliance he could find. Hurrying back to the others, he passed the cords and knife to Lieutenant Chetty, saying, “Use that if you need more cords. Once they’re tied hand and foot, drag each of them into a separate office or room so they can’t untie each other. Use their clothing to gag them, but make sure they’re able to breathe.”
“Yessir!”
Marisela said, her voice bristling with resentment, “Commander, I think
we should wait here until we know who’s in charge, then try to negotiate with them.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but when people charge in pointing guns at us, the time for diplomacy is long past. Besides, the Kotai are religious fanatics, as we’ve learned the hard way on Athi. They don’t listen to reason. I’m not prepared to waste time trying to pretend otherwise.”
“I refuse to accept that! This is a diplomatic mission, and you can’t change that!”
Steve put steel into his voice. “Ma’am, I didn’t change that – the Kotai did. I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to take with me everyone who wants to get off this planet and get back home in one piece. If we move fast, we may be able to slip away during the confusion of the takeover. If we wait, we’ll only give the Kotai time to get organized, and I’m not about to do that. If anyone prefers to stay here, they’re welcome to do so, but they’re on their own and I’m not coming back for them. All of you, make your minds up, right now. You won’t get another chance.”
“You can’t browbeat us like this!” Marisela almost wailed.
Steve was pitiless. “Welcome to the real world, ma’am. There’s no time for playing games any longer. I’ll give you ten seconds to decide.”
“But – you can’t – I refuse –”
“Five seconds.” His voice was ice and steel.
“I… oh, very well, damn you! Be sure I’ll lodge a formal protest against your high-handed arrogance through the Department of State!”
“You’re welcome to do that, ma’am, but we have to get back to Lancaster first. Until then, let’s stop arguing. We’re wasting time.”
He took out his satellite phone, checking that the circuit was still scrambled, and switching it to speakerphone mode so everyone could hear. “Maxwell to Pickle, over.”