Silent Order_Fire Hand

by Jonathan Moeller

  “But I’ve just received word,” said Taren. “Ronstadt Corporation is lifting the embargo. We can leave, but the Shovel isn’t in a fit state to make it to Calaskar. For that matter, the mercenaries will not give up their attempts to steal the relics. I think the best plan is for the crew and the graduate students to travel back to Calaskar via passenger liner. I will pay the fares out of my own pocket. You followed me into this mess so I can get you out of it.”

  “What about you, Professor?” said one of the graduate students.

  “I’m going to take Captain March’s ship back to Calaskar, and I will have the relics with me,” said Taren. “We know which relics the mercenaries wanted – those twenty beetle-shaped amulets and the Firestone. Captain March’s ship is faster and better armed than anything else we can obtain, and it has the best chance of evading capture. More importantly, this plan has the best chance of getting all of you to safety. The mercenaries don’t care about you. They just want the relics. If I go on the Tiger, the mercenaries will chase Captain March’s ship, and you’ll be able to get to Calaskar in relative safety.”

  “When do you expect the embargo to be lifted?” said Bauer.

  “Within a few hours,” said Taren. “As soon as it is, buy tickets on the first reputable passenger liner you can find. There are a few docked at the station. When you do…”

  As one, everyone’s phone chimed.

  March glanced at his. It was a station-wide announcement from Ronstadt Corporation, informing all residents and visitors to Rustbelt Station that the embargo on ship traffic had been lifted. There was another message on his phone from Bishop. Veldt and the men loyal to him were in the process of getting arrested by the officers of the Corporation’s local branch.

  “Looks like you can do it right now,” said Taren. “Bauer, you’re in charge. Spend whatever you need to get tickets for everyone on the first passenger liner headed to Antioch Station.” Bauer nodded and got to his feet. “Captain March and I are going to prepare for departure. The sooner we can get off this rock, the better.”

  “Actually,” said Bauer with a smile, “I’ve already talked to one of the liner companies. I figured this would be the plan, and I’ve got some berths lined up.”

  “Which company?” said March.

  “Economy Starliners,” said Bauer. “They carried a load of temporary workers out here, and then got stuck when Ronstadt Corporation closed all the flights. The captain is eager to make up some of the money he’s lost by carrying passengers back to Antioch Station.”

  “Good.” March nodded. Economy Starliners was a discount operation, but as far as he knew, it was free of links to Machinist sympathizers or organized crime.

  “All right,” said Taren. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 8: Infiltration

  The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon was a whirlwind of activity.

  March stayed with Taren as she and Bauer supervised the crew. They unloaded their possessions from the damaged Shovel and the artifacts from Xenostas that were not relics of the Great Elder Ones. As it turned out, Economy Starliners was willing to take all the Shovel’s cargo. Every square foot on the liner that wasn’t carrying passengers or cargo was a loss for the company, and given the delay in their schedule, they were more than happy to take on any paying cargo. Taren supervised everything with brisk efficiency, thanking both the Economy Starliners crew for their help and her own people for their work. From what March could tell, she was nearly universally respected among her crew and students. Professor Orson seemed to be the exception, not the rule. She shook the hand of each man and woman, even Orson, thanking them for their work.

  A few hours later, March stood with Taren in one of the cargo corridors, watching as the last of Taren’s people made their way through the airlock and into the bulky passenger liner. Bauer turned to face Taren and sighed.

  “We’ve been in a lot of messes together, Professor,” said Bauer, “but nothing quite as messy as this.”

  “No,” said Taren. She gave him a fond smile, and then leaned up and kissed his bearded cheek. “Say hello to Julie for me when you get back to Calaskar.”

  “You can say hello to her yourself,” said Bauer. “You’ll be right behind us, I assume.”

  “We won’t, I’m afraid,” said March. “We’ll have to set a more indirect course to avoid the mercenaries. You’ll probably arrive at Antioch Station five or six days ahead of us.”

  “Well,” said Bauer. He held out his hand, and March shook it. “Look after Dr. Taren for us, will you? I’d hate to have to explain to Julie and the kids how she got killed.”

  “I will,” said March. “One way or another, we’ll get her home.”

  Taren smiled. “You’re just afraid of losing your job if I’m dead.”

  “Yeah,” said Bauer. “I’d have to explain that to Julie, too.”

  “I’ll be fine, Lars,” said Taren. “I know what I’m doing, and Captain March does, too.”

  “I believe you,” said Bauer. “Good luck, both of you, and may God look after you.”

  With a final wave, he turned and vanished into the airlock.

  March and Taren watched the airlock doors as they hissed shut. The liner ought to be clear to leave in an hour.

  “I don’t like lying to them,” said Taren at last.

  “I thought you might be used to it by now,” said March. “It’s a necessity in our line of work.”

  “I know,” said Taren. “I’m used to it, but I still don’t like it.”

  “Come on,” said March. “The sooner we link up with Bishop, the sooner we can fly the Tiger out of here.” He hesitated, and then extended his right arm to her. Taren blinked, smiled, and threaded his arm through hers, and together they walked down the cargo corridor. March supposed it made for a more effective camouflage…

  No. He was lying to himself. He liked the feel of her arm against his. It was a foolish liability. But he nonetheless enjoyed it even as he rebuked himself.

  March disentangled from her when they reached an autocab, and he sent the machine whirring towards Bay 86, Taren sitting next to him. A constant stream of cargo drones and autocabs and foot traffic headed towards the docking bays, joining the general exodus from the station triggered by the end of the embargo.

  “Less crowded than before,” observed Taren, craning her neck as she looked around.

  “Yeah,” said March. “Everyone’s leaving before Ronstadt Corporation changes its mind again.” On the plus side, the lack of crowds would make it far harder for anyone to sneak up on them. On the downside, it would make March and Taren easier to find.

  They stopped at Bay 86, and March told the autocab to wait. He and Taren entered the Tiger and retrieved the case holding the quantum inducers and the Firestone from the strong room. While Taren double-checked the relics, March went to the flight cabin and configured Vigil to allow Constantine Bishop full access to all the systems.

  He went back to the cargo bay and found Taren waiting for him, a leather satchel slung over one shoulder. Inside March glimpsed the metal case holding the relics of the Great Elder Ones.

  “It’s an odd feeling,” said Taren, “to be carrying something that could decide the fate of interstellar nations.”

  “At least it isn’t a nuke in the back of a truck,” said March.

  Taren blinked. “A truck nuke?”

  “Long story.”

  They left the bay, and a short time later the autocab stopped before the Emperor’s Rest, and March paid the machine and got out. Taren followed him into the restaurant, and they passed through the supply room. March knocked at the office door, and a moment later a harried-looking Bishop opened it.

  “Ah, good, you’re here,” said Bishop. “Come inside.”

  “How did it go with Veldt?” said March.

  Bishop flashed a smile. “Brilliantly. Supervisor Veldt was not exactly popular with his officers even before he closed down space traffic.
Everything went quite smoothly. Veldt and his loyalists are currently under arrest. Is the Tiger ready?”

  “She’s all yours,” said March. “Try not to scratch the paint.”

  Bishop grinned behind his beard. “If I get the ship back in one piece, you’re doing well. You’re the pilot, Jack, not me.” March grimaced at that, and Bishop’s grin widened as he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. I promise I won’t do anything fancy. I’ll hyperjump out a light year into interstellar space, wait three days, and then turn right around and come back to NB8876X.”

  “That’s the safest way,” said March. If a ship stopped in interstellar space, it was almost impossible to find. Granted, it played hell with navigation, and a careless pilot could get himself lost without hope of finding his way back to an inhabited system. But a single light year into interstellar space, close enough that NB8876X’s gravity well would be easy to find, ought to be safe enough.

  “Believe it or not,” said Bishop, “I don’t intend to die by starving to death in interstellar space. I’ll sit there for three days and come right back. Though I suspect I will have a more enjoyable time than you two will.”

  “No doubt,” said March. “You have a spot picked out for us?”

  “Yes,” said Bishop. “The quarters near Ore Complex Eleven.”

  “Ore Complex?” said Taren.

  “The station started out as an asteroid mine,” said Bishop. “Eventually, the ore ran out, and the mining and smelting complexes were shut down. But they’re still here, even though they’re officially abandoned. They tend to get used for illegal activities, I’m afraid.”

  “Yeah,” said March, the memory of hunting for Thomas Vindex in those ore complexes flashing through his mind. “Such as us hiding.”

  “Well,” said Bishop. “You’re not technically fugitives, so I suppose it’s not illegal.” He reached behind his desk, grunted, and lifted two heavy packs. “Survival packs. Should have enough food to last you both for three days, and the water and life support in Ore Complex Eleven are running. Stay there for three days, and then meet me back here. Then we’ll get the two of you on the Tiger, and we can get those damned relics to Calaskar and the Navy.”

  “What’s the best route to Ore Complex Eleven from here?” said Taren.

  Bishop grinned. “In our line of work, Dr. Taren, it’s always best to have an escape route ready.”

  He walked to the back wall and pushed on one of the panels. It swung open, revealing an access corridor sinking into the rock of the asteroid, the walls lined with conduits and pipes, harsh lights in metal cages on the ceiling throwing back the shadows.

  “Is that always unlocked?” said Taren. She stooped and took one of the packs, threading her arms through the straps, and March followed suit. His wounds still burned as he moved, and he shifted most of the pack’s weight to his left shoulder.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said Bishop. “I leave an open secret passage behind my back all the time.” He grinned. “I enjoyed meeting you, Dr. Taren. Perhaps we’ll have the chance to work together in the future.”

  “Maybe we will,” said Taren. She shook his hand. “But if I ever come back here, something’s gone seriously wrong in my life.”

  “Jack,” said Bishop, and they shook hands. “I’ll take care of your ship.”

  “Without a scratch,” said March. “Thank you for all your help, Constantine.”

  “Just my duty, that’s all,” said Bishop. “And any day we can screw over the Machinists is a good day.” He glanced at his phone. “I ordered a car to head to Bay 86. If anyone’s watching, they’ll assume the three of us boarded the Tiger.”

  “Good luck,” said March. “The beers will be on me when you come back.”

  Bishop grinned once more. “And I’ll even give you a five percent discount.”

  With that, he slipped through the door and into the storeroom.

  “Ready?” said March.

  Taren rolled her shoulders, adjusting the leather strap of the satchel holding the relics. “Nothing like a camping trip in an abandoned asteroid.”

  “You sound almost cheerful,” said March.

  “We did go camping when I was a kid,” said Taren. “The Malborix Woods on Calaskar. It was fun. Two weeks every summer.” March stepped towards the opened door. “We’d fish, hunt, and…oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  March looked back at her. “Think about what?”

  A flicker of embarrassment went over her expression. “You told me about your childhood.”

  “I did,” said March. “So?”

  “Well, it seems inappropriate to wax lyrical about my childhood camping trips,” said Taren.

  March shrugged. “I’m at a loss.”

  “Because you grew up in a labor camp?”

  March blinked. “What does…oh, I get it.” He laughed.

  “What?” said Taren. “It’s not funny.”

  He laughed again. It felt odd in his throat. It wasn’t something he did all that often. “I didn’t even make the connection. I was never a man for the wilderness.” He beckoned her forward, and he led the way into the access corridor. Taren closed the door behind them, the lock clicking into place. “The labor camp was like a city, and with the Machinists and the Silent Order, I always went to cities or space stations. I don’t think I’ve ever gone into the wilderness just for…for…”

  He thought for an appropriate word. It was another strange sensation. He never talked about himself this much.

  “Fun,” he said at last.

  “That’s too bad,” said Taren. “So long as you don’t get lost, hiking in the woods is a great way to relax.”

  March grunted. “I’ve been to forests a few times, but always on a job.”

  They turned a corner, and March checked the sightlines, but the narrow hallways remained empty. He drew out his phone and glanced at the map that Bishop had given him. They were still on the proper route.

  “Tell you what,” said Taren. “Once we get back to Calaskar and get these relics off your hands, let me take you to Malborix Woods.”

  March blinked and looked back at her. “Seriously?”

  “Why not?” said Taren. “You did save my life and the lives of all my people. Twice, in my case. I’m sure Censor won’t give you another job for at least a few days. Taking you to Malborix Woods seems like a good way to thank you. Besides, I saw the usage logs in your gym. If you like weightlifting in a hundred and fifty percent gravity, you’ll enjoy hiking.”

  March looked back at her, wondering if he really saw the invitation in her eyes, or if he just imagined it. He knew that he wasn’t imagining his attraction to her, and nor was he wrong about the fact that they were alone together and would be alone together for the next three days…

  No. He had to focus on his mission. His task was to ensure her survival and to make sure the relics ended up in the hands of the Silent Order or the Ministry of Defense. Nothing else mattered.

  “Let’s get back to Calaskar first,” said March. “Then we’ll think about vacations.”

  He wondered if she would be hurt, but she only smiled. “Very sensible. Lead on, Captain March.”

  They walked for the better part of seven kilometers through the maze of access corridors. At last, they came to an access panel. March unlocked it, and they stepped into a wide, gloomy corridor of unfinished rock, steel rails set along the floor.

  “Mine shaft,” said March, looking around the gloom. He disliked that amount of shadows in the corridor. They provided countless places for an enemy to hide, or a surveillance drone or even a simple camera. “They would have dug the ore out of the veins…that way, and rolled the ore down the carts to the smelters, which would be to the right.”

  “Then to the right we go,” said Taren.

  They walked another kilometer. March’s wounds burned with every step, and he wanted to sit and catch his breath. But he forced himself onward, as he had so many times in his life.

&nb
sp; After another kilometer, the corridor opened into a vast space the size of a sports arena, the walls lined with enormous smelters, their fires long-since quenched.

  “Ore Complex Eleven,” said March, stepping around a cart.

  “I’m surprised they left all the machinery here,” said Taren, looking around. She picked up a piece of slag, examined it, and tossed it aside.

  “It isn’t worth the cost to dig it out again,” said March. He spotted another door on the far side of the complex. “Most of the equipment was assembled on-site using iron ore they dug out of the asteroid. Once the ore was tapped out, they just left it here. I suppose it might be profitable to melt it down and sell the metal, but there are easier ways to make money.”

  “I guess so,” said Taren. “Maybe in ten thousand years humans will come here again and set up an archaeological dig to learn about us.”

  “Odd thought,” said March.

  “I’m an archaeologist. Most of my thoughts are odd.”

  March pointed at the door. “This way.”

  They crossed the cavernous room and reached the door. It slid open without protest, and beyond was a metal corridor lined with doors. This had once been a dormitory to house the mine engineers and workers. March checked his map again, walked to the third door on the left, and opened it. The room beyond had once been a lounge, but Bishop had converted it to a safe house. Four cots rested against one wall, and on the opposite wall were metal cases holding prepackaged meals, medical supplies, clothing, and a lot of weapons. There was also a plastic table with four chairs.

  “Mr. Bishop is a thorough man,” said Taren.

  “Suppose it’s not quite like camping in the Malborix Woods,” said March.

  Taren flashed a smile at him. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about rain.”

  “No,” said March. He sat down with a sigh, putting his pack on the floor. He could heal faster than an unmodified human, but he had still been badly hurt, and the nanotech in his blood, the medical nanobots, and his altered genetics could only do so much.