Musketeer Space

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  “Unless they lose their nerve and strike early,” said Athos.

  Dana felt disgruntled. They hadn’t mentioned any of this to her before. This was supposed to be her mission! Then again, she should have researched the route herself – it had never occurred to her that she would need to check for pockets of Church Space. “Where’s Porthos?”

  “Porthos is in the bar lounge, creating a false sense of security among the Red Hammers,” said Aramis, with a sly smile.

  “Is that code for gaming and drinking?” asked Dana.

  “I’m hoping for gaming and pretending to be much more drunk than she is,” said Athos. “But you can never be entirely sure, with Porthos.”

  “Spaceship calling the sword silver!” Aramis coughed pointedly. “She’s not the only gambling drunk in this party.”

  “I never said she was.” Athos replied.

  Aramis spoke into her stud, connecting all three of them to Porthos. “Darling, you need to pull back. Dangerous territory ahead.”

  Dana heard a buzz of conversation and static in her ear for a moment, then the clink of glasses. After a long pause, they heard Porthos speak in a low voice. “May have miscalculated. I keep winning.”

  Aramis frowned. “So lose some of it and get back here.”

  “I’ve been trying,” Porthos insisted. “But I keep winning. They’re seriously pissed off. If I leave the table now I think they’re going to kill me.”

  “So you’re gambling with Hammers,” Athos said between gritted teeth as he joined the conversation. “And now you’ve given them an excuse to jump you.”

  “I’ve bought drinks for the room but that’s only going to take us so far,” Porthos whispered. “They’re calling me back to the table, hang on.”

  “Cheat to lose,” Aramis hissed. “I don’t like this.”

  “Fuck that,” said Athos in a voice far more harsh than Dana was used to from him. “Leave the money and run. Porthos, get the hell out of there. This smells like a trap.”

  Silence from Porthos.

  Aramis took her pilot’s slice from her bag and hung the baton from her belt, giving up on any pretence that she was a civilian. She pulled an arc-ray Dana had never seen before from one of the deep pockets in her flight suit. “I’m going to get her.”

  Dana took the opportunity to check on her own weapons – the pilot’s slice baton that Athos had given her, and the pearl stunner from Aramis.

  Athos was already at the door of the carriage, but Aramis grabbed his collar and hauled him back. “No! I’m going to get her,” she insisted. “You and Dana make for the Parry-Riposte in the hold. Porthos and I will make contact with the Morningstar and get out that way.”

  “Aramis,” Athos said in a pained voice.

  “Go,” she said, smacking him on the shoulder. “You have to get Dana to Valour.” She blew Dana a quick kiss and then threw herself through the rattling connecting door and was gone.

  For a moment, Dana could not breathe. Then Athos moved, lifting himself up into the bunk he had most recently slept in. His fingers, and then the sharp edge of his pilot’s slice, worked quickly against the ventilation panel in the ceiling, which sprang open as if this was a trick he had prepared earlier.

  “You’ve done this before,” Dana accused.

  Athos gave her a swift, fierce grin. “Memorising the blueprints of public transport vehicles is never a waste of time. We chose this particular carriage for a reason.” With a fluidity that would only surprise those who had never fenced against him, he slid up and into the opening he had created, climbing into the narrow space beyond.

  Dana did not hesitate to follow, pulling the ventilation panel closed behind them.

  Their journey through the inner fittings of the Calais was long and tiring, though they covered a remarkably short distance for the effort it took. By the time they had made their way down into a service corridor, Dana was grimy and short of breath. Athos looked more cheerful than she had seen him in ages.

  “Another short cut,” he revealed, hacking the electronic lock of a freight lift. “Act like you own the place.”

  “Pretending I own an entire solarcrawler won’t arouse suspicion at all,” Dana griped, but she restrained herself from saying more. What would she have done without her Musketeer friends and their experience to get her this far?

  She had never felt so young in her life.

  The freight lift took them down to the storage bay in the belly of the Calais, which was packed with crates and containers. Running alongside the enormous bay were the separate cells containing ships under transport to Valour. Each opened out into its own airlock, for ease of loading and unloading.

  Dana’s stomach untwisted with relief as she saw the Parry-Riposte, its fin tattoo covered in a neutral pattern of geometric shapes instead of its usual display of sword hilts, vines and mountain range. For the first time, Dana wondered about that mountain, and what it meant to her friend.

  Athos hissed between his teeth, and Dana responded to his warning, stepping back to conceal herself behind a pile of bright orange storage tanks.

  Dana did not have an arc-ray of her own, only the pearl stunner. When Athos slid his own hand out from under his grey jacket, she was mildly surprised to see that he was also armed with a stunner.

  How many? she mouthed to him.

  He showed her four fingers.

  Two each, then. Perfectly manageable. If she could manage to overcome the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears to aim.

  The comm silence from Porthos and Aramis was terrifying. She couldn’t think about that.

  Athos counted to three silently by tapping his boot lightly against Dana’s own. Then he swung out on the far side of the tanks, and Dana moved the other way. She immediately saw two Red Hammers standing sentry at the hatch of the Parry-Riposte, which hung open. A pair of Sabres had hold of Grimaud’s arms and were marching her away from the ship.

  Dana shot fast, first the one holding Grimaud’s right arm, and then the guard on the left of the hatch. Athos had taken out the guard on the right of the hatch already, but tried for a double shot on the guards holding Grimaud, which set up a fierce buzz of bright white stunner feedback.

  They ran across to the ship, coming to a halt at Grimaud’s unconscious body.

  “Is that why you’re not allowed a real gun?” Dana demanded.

  “Results are what matter,” Athos growled, scooping up his engie and throwing her over his shoulder. “Let’s get on board.”

  “You didn’t trust me to cover two of them,” Dana spat.

  Athos gave her a weary look. “Don’t take it personally, D’Artagnan. I don’t trust anyone to do anything.”

  But it wasn’t true, Dana thought sourly as they made for the hatch and closed it behind them. If Aramis and Porthos had been here, Athos would not have hesitated to assume they were each capable of stunning two guards each.

  The Parry-Riposte had a standard internal layout for darts, with a secondary engie seat beside the pilot’s harness, and a couple of jumpseats at the back of the flight deck for passenger transport. Like Dana’s old Buttercup, there was a tiny cabin at the back with a bunk and other basic features.

  Instead of putting the stunned Grimaud on the bunk, Athos strapped her into one of the jumpseats and then took his own place in the pilot’s position, arranging harness and helm with a deliberate precision that made it clear he had done this many times, without the assistance of an engie.

  Dana would have offered to help, despite being pissed off at him, but he didn’t even pause as he snapped the cables into his own neck port, and clipped the straps of the harness firmly around him.

  “Request emergency burst exit,” he ordered her, inserting another cable into his scalp as he secured the helm. “They won’t open the airlock for us otherwise.”

  Dana took the seat beside him and leaned into the ship’s comm, glad she could have something practical to do. Something to take her mind off worrying about their friends, if o
nly for a few seconds. She summoned up a casual drawl as she spoke. “Calais Control, this is civilian storage ship reference A309458, requesting clearance for emergency airlock release.”

  “Reference 309458, this is an irregular request,” came the tinny voice from Calais Control. “Full passage will not be reimbursed.”

  “Sorry, Calais Control, family emergency. We need to bug out earlier than expected. Terms and conditions understood.”

  “Safety protocols enabled, airlock will release in three minutes.”

  “Thank you, Calais Control.” Dana glanced over at Athos. “Three minutes.”

  “A lot can happen in three minutes,” he said grimly, flicking between security screens. He rolled the ship forward a little, to put more distance between the crumpled Hammers and Sabres, and themselves.

  It was at the two and a half minute mark that reinforcements arrived. Half a dozen more Hammers ran into the storage bay, arc-rays at the ready.

  Athos immediately fired up the main thrusters, sending a wave of heat back in the direction of the fallen and active guards.

  “You’ll kill them,” Dana said in a low voice.

  “Better them than us,” he said calmly. “Or did you forget that your mission is for the Crown?”

  “Reference 309458, detecting life signs too close to your ship for standard safety parameters,” broke in Calais Control.

  Dana reached for the comm, but Athos took over. “They’re nothing to do with us, Calais Control, but if we move fast, the rogue element won’t be coming into the airlock with us.”

  “Understood, Reference 309458,” said Calais Control, and to Dana’s surprise the airlock seal slid open. Athos ran the ship forward just enough, and the seal closed behind them, to the dismay and fury of the Sabres and other red guards.

  “Thought it was you, Athos,” added Calais Control in a far more casual voice. “Pol with you?”

  “She’s still on board, Marc,” said Athos. “Keep an eye out for her? She was in trouble, last I heard.”

  “Understood 309458, fly safe,” said the voice, back to its business-like and almost robotic formula. The final seal of the airlock gasped open, propelling the Parry-Riposte out into cold space. They drifted for several hundred metres before the distance was safe enough for Athos to fire up the engine properly and draw the dart away from the Calais.

  “Was that another one of Porthos’ boyfriends driving the damn solarcrawler?” Dana said after a moment.

  Athos shrugged. “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

  Dana concentrated on breathing, trying to calm her thoughts down. They were clear, for now. She was on track for her mission. But it had been one hell of a cost.

  Athos’ hand nudged against hers, and he pointed to one of several screens showing the spacescape outside the ship. Dana could see the long, sinuous shape of the Calais, running along the virtual rails that traced glowing, only-detectable-by-computer silver lines from Paris Satellite all the way to Valour and ensured there was no deviation in the flight path.

  There, attached to the side of the train like a leech on a miner’s leg, was the Morningstar. Like the Parry-Riposte, Aramis’ dart was in disguise, with a pattern of suns and moons tattooed across its fin instead of the more devout imagery that Aramis preferred.

  Athos activated his comm, pulling Dana into the same call. “Bonnie, Bazin, what’s happening?”

  There was a pause, and then the anxious tones of Bazin the android filled the comms. “Captain-lieutenant Aramis is aboard, but wounded. She is not currently conscious. Engineer Boniface has boarded the Calais to secure Captain-Lieutenant Porthos.”

  Athos nodded grimly, as if this was about what he had expected. “Give Bonnie and Porthos as much time as you can, but if any Sabres or Hammers approach the hatch, detach immediately and get Aramis to a medibay. Meung Station is the closest.”

  “Those instructions are compatible with my orders from Captain-Lieutenant Aramis,” Bazin said. “Godspeed, Captain-lieutenant Athos.”

  “Godspeed, Bazin,” said Athos, and closed the comm.

  Dana was shaking. She had no idea what to do with any of this. “Aramis and Porthos.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Athos said in a clipped voice. “Worry about us. We’re the ones with the precious cargo. They’re out of it.” He glanced at the screens. “We can outstrip the Calais and make it to Valour in the next eight hours at maximum thrust. Nine or ten hours if I take the route to avoid crossing pockets of Church Space. But if they send pursuit ships after us, there’s nothing to do but fly fast and hope for the best.”

  “Not if,” Dana said in a small voice. “When.”

  Athos nodded, hands steady on the controls. He always looked more at peace in helm and harness of his dart than at any other time. “Not if,” he agreed. “When.”

  20

  Pieces of Athos

  Dana checked her comm stud for the twentieth time. No one had made contact – not Aramis or Bazin or Porthos or Bonnie. At this stage, she would almost welcome a notification that she was about to be personally arrested by Cardinal Richelieu.

  “Stop it,” Athos said in a low voice. “You’re driving yourself crazy. It won’t help.”

  “Can I just –”

  “No.” He refused to let her make contact again.

  “But –”

  “They know how to get in touch if they can. Filling their comms with anxious queries is not going to help anyone, and it will provide far too much information to anyone who might have them in custody.”

  “You think they’re under arrest?”

  “It’s not an unlikely scenario.”

  “Aramis was wounded,” Dana moaned beneath her breath. “And Bonnie hadn’t even found Porthos!”

  “I know, all right? Shut up about it.”

  “Athos,” she said, knowing she was whining like a child but unable to stop herself.

  “I can’t fly if I’m frantic,” he snapped at her. “Stop talking about them. Think of something calming.”

  That was the dumbest thing Dana had ever heard. “Who can be calm at a time like this? How do you do it?”

  “Fencing,” said Athos. “Fencing is calming. Do those footwork routines I showed you. In your head, if you please, I don’t want you prancing around the flight deck.”

  “You want me to do footwork in my head?” Dana said incredulously. Another thought occurred to her. “Hang on, is that what you’re doing when you get that pained expression on your face?”

  “If I say yes, will you stop talking?” He was tense, and his hands were trembling slightly on the controls.

  Dana subsided. He needed a calm frame of mind to pilot the ship. The least she could do was not sabotage him. “Footwork, got it.”

  She filled her mind with fencing exercises, her feet wriggling as she took herself through her paces. To her surprise, after a while, it did make her feel as if she could relax…

  Dana blinked rapidly, looking around the small flight deck in alarm. “What was – hey, was I asleep? What the hell happened?”

  The stars were different. She hadn’t blinked or zoned out for a moment. She had been properly asleep. She could see the bright circle of Valour up ahead, and the blur of orbiting stations in orbit around her. They were a lot closer than they had been.

  “That was some good calm right there,” drawled Athos. “Nice and quiet, except for the snoring.”

  Dana gave him a suspicious look. “Did you drug me because I was talking too much?”

  “No, you genuinely fell asleep,” he assured her. “It was a beautiful thing. When I am old I will look back on that time with genuine fondness.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Asleep. “I don’t even have Grimaud’s excuse.”

  “Could you check on her? I’m concerned she hasn’t come to yet.”

  Dana nodded and let herself out of the seat. Grimaud sat strapped against the far wall, her head drifting to one side. Dana ran through the usual response checks, everything sh
ort of putting a medipatch on her chest. “Her vitals are fine,” she reported finally. It was rare for a dose from a pearl stunner to last more than an hour or so on a victim, but Grimaud had received a double blast. They were lucky she hadn’t gone into coldshock.

  “I hate stunners,” Athos growled.

  “She wouldn’t have got it from both of us if you’d trusted me to hit my marks,” Dana pointed out again.

  “I know,” he admitted. “Sorry. I don’t trust easily.”

  “I’m shocked by that revelation,” she said lightly. She hadn’t expected him to apologise. “Shocked, I tell you.”

  Athos’ hands might be busy at the helm, but he still took the time to give her the finger.

  Dana grinned.

  Valour loomed ahead of them, and still there were no messages from Porthos, Aramis or their engies.

  Not even mental footwork calmed Dana down this time. She checked and rechecked her comm. She found herself reaching out for Athos’ wrist, just to see if anything had come in on his comm without him noticing, but he pulled his arm away from her with a growl.

  “They’re fine, D’Artagnan. They’ll get in touch when they can. And if not – if they can’t get to a communicator because they’ve been taken, we’ll just have to go collect them when we’re done with this mission of yours.”

  This mission of yours. That stung harder than it should have done. Dana didn’t need reminding that she was the one who had brought them here.

  Athos sighed impatiently. His eyes were still on the screens, his hands busy on the controls, but Dana knew that sigh. It was closely related to the ‘Porthos wants us to talk about our feelings’ huff.

  “Do you really need me to reassure you why they’re going to be all right?” he said finally.