Maxwell Saga 5: Stoke the Flames Higher

by Peter Grant

  There was a momentary pause, then, “Pickle to Maxwell, go ahead, over.” It was Macneill’s voice.

  “What’s happening in the city? Over.”

  “Sir, the military convoys appear to have moved past your location, further into the city. There’s fighting going on at the presidential palace, but the soldiers appear to have taken over the parliamentary building without a fight. The spaceport is under rebel control. We’ve launched the cutter, as you ordered. Over.”

  “Good work. Unless circumstances change, have the cutter meet us at Rendezvous Five, I say again, Rendezvous Five, at midnight local time.” It was a previously agreed location twenty kilometers outside the city, a grove of trees surrounded by farmland, far from buildings. “We’re going to move out in a few moments to try to link up with our liberty party, then head out of town as and when circumstances allow. Any sign of anyone trying to approach or board you? Over.”

  “Not yet, sir. Over.”

  “Very well. Monitor our movements as we leave. We’ll be in a taxi that’s currently parked outside the entrance to this building. Do you see it on your monitor? Over.”

  “Wait one… Yes, sir, I see it. It looks like one of the ten-place vans that are common down there. It arrived just a few minutes ago. Three people got out and went into your building.”

  “That’s it. We’ll use it to head for Rendezvous One. Advise the liberty party to meet us there. If you see any military units or other traffic that might get in their way or ours, tell us at once. Over.”

  “Will do, sir, but if we have to leave orbit, we’ll lose the ability to monitor what’s going on around you. Over.”

  Steve cursed beneath his breath, and thought rapidly. “Redeploy the SPS drone to keep watch over the city. Have it relay its images and communications to you via tight-beam, so you can guide us. We need an eye in the sky to warn us of trouble spots. Over.”

  “I’ll get right on it, sir. What about the other drones? Over.”

  “Move drone two to cover the SPS. Drone three must cover Kalla on its own. Send self-destruct instructions at once if it looks like any of them might be picked up. I’ll make a final decision about them once I’m back on board. Over.”

  “Understood, sir. Over.”

  “Very good. Keep a listening watch on this circuit. Maxwell standing by.”

  As he put the satphone back into his pocket, Marisela said accusingly, her eyes flashing, “So you’ve been spying on this planet using drones, have you? So much for the diplomatic status of our mission!”

  Steve shook his head as he used one of BuIntel’s standard cover stories. “Devakai has a fairly primitive satellite communications network, so we use our drones to supplement it. We relay through them to reach stations that aren’t in line-of-sight of the ship. That’s standard operating procedure. The drones are general-purpose units, so they also have cameras, in case we need to survey an unoccupied planet or something like that. That means we can use one of them to monitor the situation down here.” Drones used by the Black Squadron, and their sensors, were vastly more sophisticated than those in general commercial or military use, but Marisela didn’t need to know that, he reflected with an inward grin.

  “Then why do you want to destroy them if it looks like they’ll be found?”

  “If the Kotai are taking over here, we don’t want them getting their hands on the latest Commonwealth communications technology. We’ll recover the drones if we can, rather than destroy them. That’ll depend on circumstances at the time.”

  “Oh. Well… I suppose that makes sense,” she said slowly, reluctantly.

  “It does.” He raised his voice. “Lieutenant Chetty, when you’ve finished tying up those men, bring your parents in here. Mr. Gallegros, join us as soon as you can.”

  While they waited, he took one of the recording chips from his pocket and showed it to the others. “They had a monitoring station set up. It could control up to eight different bugs, including one in this room – I could hear your voices through it – and another in your office, Ms. Bonaventura. I’ve taken all the memory chips from the station. We’ll analyze them back aboard ship, to see what they recorded. I’m willing to bet that everything any of you said in this building since your arrival is on one of these chips.” He dropped it back into his pocket as he noted, struggling to conceal his satisfaction at the sudden look of guilt that Marisela exchanged with Solveig.

  “I – I think I should keep those, as head of the diplomatic mission,” Marisela said haltingly, holding out her hand. “They’re recordings of our work, after all.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. They were captured by Fleet personnel during a rescue operation, so I’ll include them with my report of proceedings, along with anything we learn from them. I’m sure the Fleet will make copies available to the Department of State.”

  Steve couldn’t help feeling intense satisfaction at the dawning panic visible in the diplomat’s eyes. Yeah, suck it up, he thought angrily, careful not to let his feelings show on his face. You thought you could misuse an official Department of State mission, and the Fleet’s hospitality, for personal business – yours and your mentor’s. To cap that, you refused to take the most elementary security precautions, like having this place swept for bugs. Now all that’s going to come out, especially your conversation with Solveig Soldahl. It’s going to smash into your career like a runaway train, and your mentor’s too. I hope you enjoy it, because I’m going to!

  He looked around the room. “If you have anything important, official or personal, that you absolutely must take with you, you have two minutes – and I mean that literally: two minutes only! – to collect it. Leave everything else behind. Bring only what you can carry in a briefcase, or something of similar size. We’re going to travel fast, and that means traveling light.”

  Everyone rushed out, some struggling as they jammed against each other in the doorframe. As soon as they’d gone, Peter Gallegros came in, followed by Lieutenant Chetty and his parents. They looked at Steve expectantly.

  “Peter, is there any mission documentation or equipment that shouldn’t fall into Kotai hands?”

  “We didn’t bring any cryptographic gear, or anything like that. If I heard you correctly from out there, they’ve already monitored all our conversations, so we have no secrets from them anyway.”

  “Good. You’ve also got two minutes to get anything critical you want to take with you.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  As the diplomat ran out, Steve turned to Lieutenant Chetty. “You’d better introduce me to your parents. Do they speak Galactic Standard English?”

  “No, sir. They only speak Hindi, but I can translate. My father’s name is Devdan, and my mother is Chetana.” He broke into rapid speech as he looked at his parents, gesturing to Steve. They both made namaste to him, and he returned the gesture.

  “Thank you. I need you to wear one of the guards’ uniform shirts, a Kotai turban and its trishula insignia. That’s so anyone seeing us pass will assume we’re in your custody. I’ll wear another turban, so it’ll look like there are two guards and eight prisoners. You’ll be at the wheel, with me next to you. Your father will be in the back, also wearing a Kotai turban and shirt.”

  “Yessir!” He said something to his father, and the two men began taking off their jackets and shirts. As they dressed, the others began to trickle back, carrying small boxes or briefcases.

  “You’d better show me how to wind this turban around my head,” Steve said to Chetty. “In fact, if you could wind it for me, that’ll save a lot of time.” The SPS officer grinned and set to work. “Does the taxi have its own satnav equipment?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That means it can be tracked, so we’ll rip it out before we leave. We’ll use our comm units’ navigation software. We need to get to the Ayyappan Temple, on the outskirts of the city. If possible, I want to get there using back streets rather than main roads, so that as few people as possible see us. Do you know how to ge
t there from here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Steve looked around at the others. “Mr. Chaudhor, Miss Brightwaters, Miss Humboldt, please go to the kitchen. Bring back any food you can find that doesn’t need cooking, is easy to prepare, and can be eaten with our fingers if necessary. Also, bring anything you can find in the way of disposable plates, cups and cutlery, paper napkins, cutting boards and knives, and so on. If there are any cases of bottled water, bring them too; if not, fill with water whatever non-breakable containers you can find. I’ll give you five minutes, no more. Bring enough to last a dozen people for two days, if you can find that much.” The three nodded and bustled out.

  He put on the purloined holster, then checked the pistol’s magazine and the spare unit in a flap-covered carrier on the other side of the belt. Both were fully loaded, and the pistol’s charge pack was at maximum capacity. Satisfied, he reloaded the pistol and holstered it, then took out his satphone.

  “Maxwell to Pickle, over.”

  A momentary pause. “Pickle to Maxwell, go, over.”

  “We’re about to depart for Rendezvous One. Have you notified the liberty party? Over.”

  “Yes, sir. They’re on their way there as well. Over.”

  “Watch our vehicle as we travel, and the streets around us. If you see any sign of roadblocks, convoys or other obstacles in our path, inform us immediately, and guide us around them. Over.”

  “Will do, sir. Over.”

  “We’re on our way. Standing by.”

  Steve pocketed the phone once more as the kitchen party returned, laden with bags of food and two cases of bottled water. “Well done! Peter and I will go out first, to check that the coast is clear. When we signal, put everything you’re carrying in the back of the taxi, out of the way, then get in. Move as quickly as you can. I’ll take the front seat next to Lieutenant Chetty, who’ll drive, because he knows the local roads. Peter, take a window seat on the opposite side of the van to me, and deal with any threats on that side. Try to look like a surly religious fanatic to anyone passing by.” There was a ripple of uneasy laughter. “The rest of you, keep your heads down. If anything goes wrong, Peter and I are the only ones with weapons, so we’ll have to deal with it.”

  He took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s go.”

  —————

  The streets were deserted. Many vehicles had been abandoned by their drivers, double- and triple-parked along both sides of the road. Some had even been left in the middle of intersections. After taking ten minutes to cover only three blocks, Steve said to Lieutenant Chetty, “This is no good. We’ll take hours to crawl through all the obstacles on these narrower side streets. We’ll have to get back to the wider main roads, where there are more likely to be gaps between vehicles.”

  “I agree,” the Devakai officer said with a sigh. “It’ll still be slow, but not this slow! The only good thing is, anyone trying to follow and arrest us will have the same problem.”

  The main arteries through the city had parking bays next to the kerb, with two or three lanes in each direction and a turning lane in the center. Vehicles had been parked or abandoned almost at random, with most pulling as close as they could to the sidewalk before their occupants fled. Normal city traffic had been so heavy that, in many places, only the turning lane was still open. The few vehicles still moving, trying to make their way to a safer location, sometimes met there head-on. Much honking of horns, gesticulating and bad language ensued, until one made room to let the other pass.

  They took half an hour to cover the first three kilometers. Steve and Peter kept a sharp lookout around the van for anyone trying to sneak up on the slow-moving vehicle or point a weapon at them. The rest sat silently, some looking around nervously, others staring fixedly at the floor. The atmosphere in the taxi was tense and uncomfortable.

  Everybody jumped when Steve’s satellite phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, and switched it to speakerphone so he could keep turning his head to look around. “Maxwell, over.”

  “Macneill here, sir. Our sensors are showing that soldiers who’ve taken control of key points are leaving sentries there, then taking their transporters to nearby shopping centers to steal whatever they want. Some civilians are also looting. If the troops see them, they fire at them, almost as if looting is their prerogative and no-one else’s. There’s an outbreak of that about a kilometer ahead of you on your present route. Over.”

  “How bad is it up ahead? Over.”

  “It’s hard to tell from this high up, sir, but there are several bodies visible outside a shopping center. There are two military transporters parked at the main entrance, with a line of soldiers standing guard over them. Other soldiers are carrying stuff out and loading it into the vehicles. A crowd of civilians is across the road. Now and again they throw things and surge forward, but the soldiers shoot at them until they retreat. I’m betting they want the soldiers to allow them to loot the shops, too. Over.”

  “Is the road we’re on still clear? Is there room for us to get through? Over.”

  “Hard to say, sir. There’s still a clear lane at present, but if the crowd gets much bigger there won’t be. The side roads around the shopping center are completely blocked. Over.”

  “Then we’ve no choice but to push our way through. We’ve got to get out of here before anyone starts looking for us. Keep your eye on the situation ahead, and let me know if it gets worse as we approach it. Over.”

  “Will do, sir. Standing by.”

  Marisela had clearly been listening from her seat behind him. She asked nervously, “Shouldn’t we wait until the soldiers have gone and the crowd’s dispersed?”

  Steve shook his head. “I daresay they’ll be at it all day and night. The soldiers won’t be able to steal an entire shopping center’s worth of goods. As soon as they’re gone, civilian looters will swarm the place. We’ve got to get through before things get completely out of control.”

  “I… I suppose you may be right…” She didn’t sound convinced.

  They continued their slow progress through gaps in the stopped traffic. There were still no people visible on the road or in buildings, but they could see smoke ahead, a few wisps at first, but building to a plume. They began to hear scattered shots, and a low rumble that Steve presumed was the crowd voicing its anger and discontent.

  “Stop for a moment,” he instructed Lieutenant Chetty, and twisted around to face the inside of the taxi. “Peter, keep watch to the left and rear. I’ll take the front and right side. You’ll have to fend off anyone trying to smash windows or open doors. Use the butt of your pistol to hit their hands or heads. If they won’t stop, or you can’t reach them, shoot over their heads. If that isn’t enough, shoot them in the hands or arms. Try not to inflict serious injury unless they’re trying to kill us, in which case do whatever you must. I’ll do the same on this side. Everyone, check that all windows and doors are closed and locked or latched.” He noted that Solveig was still recording everything, as he’d asked, panning her vid camera between interior and exterior shots. Good, he thought to himself. If we ever need to prove we did everything possible to avoid inflicting casualties without cause, that will help.

  He turned back to Chetty. “Lieutenant, if people try to block your path, your natural reaction will be to stop rather than run over them; but we daren’t come to a halt. Slow down to a crawl if necessary, but keep moving. That’ll push them out of our way as gently as possible. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Remember, the safety of everyone in this taxi – including your parents – is in your hands. You know what the Kotai will do to them if they capture them, so don’t stop, no matter what.”

  “Yes, sir.” The younger man’s face was pale, but determined.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Steve could feel his heartbeat speeding up, sweat breaking out on his brow in the suddenly hot, stuffy interior of the taxi now that all its windows were closed. He kept up a constant
watch, eyes flickering ahead, then right, then back to the front.

  As Chetty guided the taxi around a curve, partly blocked by a stalled delivery truck, the shopping center came into view about a hundred meters ahead. A vehicle was on fire in its parking lot, red flames licking through the black smoke as they burst out of its windows. Two army trucks were parked at the entrance, one filled to bursting point with boxes and bags, the other almost full. A few uniformed figures, all wearing Kotai-style turbans, darted in and out of the shops, loading last-minute items.

  A line of about a dozen soldiers stood in front of the trucks, pointing their rifles across the parking lot at a roiling mob on the other side of the road. The civilians were throwing things at the soldiers, shouting their anger at being denied an opportunity to join the looting. Several bodies were lying in the road. Even as Steve watched, one of the civilians darted forward, his arm swinging back to throw something. One of the soldiers aimed his rifle and fired a burst, tumbling the man to the ground. He rolled about, screaming, until a second burst tore bits of cloth and flesh and spurts of blood from his body, silencing him forever. The mob recoiled, many ducking down behind parked vehicles, and their shouting redoubled.

  Steve turned to Lieutenant Chetty. “Stop here. We daren’t get any closer while they’re shooting like that.”

  As the taxi halted, Steve opened his window slightly, to hear better. An NCO shouted something. The last looters ran out of the shopping center and climbed aboard the trucks, picking up their rifles as they did so, pointing them at the protesters as they found places on top of their loot. As soon as they had settled down and taken aim, the NCO shouted again, and the line of soldiers broke up and raced to get aboard the vehicles. The mob’s howling grew ever louder as the trucks started to move, swinging around and heading in the direction of the taxi.

  Steve realized instantly there was no room to let them pass in the crowded roadway. “In there, quick!” he said to Chetty, pointing to a gap between the vehicles parked three deep against the sidewalk. The younger man spun the steering wheel and guided the taxi nose-first into the empty space. As soon as it had halted, Steve twisted in his seat to look at the others. “Quick, all of you, run for the sidewalk! Get down behind the vehicles, and don’t let the soldiers see you.” As everyone began to move, he added, “Peter, you defend the rear of our group, I’ll take the front. Even if the soldiers fire in our direction, they may be shooting at random rather than aiming at us. Don’t shoot back unless you’re sure they’re trying to kill us.”