Battlecruiser Alamo: Triple-Edged Sword Page 15

 “Yes, sir. We'll get it done.”

   “Let me know when you've finished. And make sure the other buggies are captured intact. We're going to need them in a few hours.”

   Cantrell had her datapad out, running the camera around the scene, trying to record every gruesome detail, every moment of horror. This had been a temporary camp, the remains of tents around a central fire, dead horses dumped on the far side of the clearing. The paving was much closer to the surface here, a smooth place to rest, and along with the crackling of the fire all Cooper could hear was the rushing noise of the nearby stream.

   “There's your proof,” she said. “These fires were started chemically. I'm picking up the residue in the smoke. No way anyone down here other than the Council could have that sort of equipment.” Spitting on the ground, she said, “They must have used incendiaries to torch the buildings, then picked off the rest with snipers.”

   Nodding, Cooper knelt down behind one of the bodies, a boy who couldn't have been more than twelve, with a spear in his hand and a bullet hole neatly drilled through his forehead. He looked at the crumpled figure, then up at Cantrell, savage hate burning in his eyes, hotter than the fire.

   “We're going to have a problem if you do this the legal way, Gabe,” Cantrell said, trying to compose herself. “If the Council did this, they're hardly going to arrest themselves.”

   “They will,” he said. “One way or another, there will be a trial, and someone will pay for this.” Looking at the devastation again, he asked, “Why, though? I don't understand. There are no special resources here, and they're a good distance from the base, so I can't see them having any effect on the mining. There must have been something they wanted, something they needed.”

   Shaking her head, she said, “They made a good job of covering up the evidence. Maybe if we got a full forensic team down here, we might be able to find out something.” She paused, then said, “I'm not sure even Alamo's equipped for that sort of investigation, though.”

   “No wonder Naxos didn't want us to see any of this,” Cooper said. “If that little worm knows anything, we'll find out soon enough.”

   On instinct, he dived to the ground, just as a spear curved through the air towards him. He turned to see a slight figure trying to run away, and started to sprint after her, Cantrell pulling out her pistol as she followed him. While the native knew the terrain far better, Cooper easily caught her up in a handful of strides, panic on her face as she looked up at him, then at the pistol in Cantrell's hand. She turned to try and get away, catching her foot on a root that threw her to the ground, screaming in pain and fear.

   “Don't worry,” Cooper said, “We're not going to hurt you.”

   “Come on, Gabe,” Cantrell replied. “She isn't going to speak English.”

   The woman, barely more than a girl, looked up and said, “I speak, little. Grandfather came from the stars, from the ground.”

   “From Earth,” Cooper said. “Your grandfather came from Earth.”

   Nodding, the girl replied, “You kill quick. No pain.”

   “I not kill at all,” he said, and Cantrell holstered her pistol, kneeling by her side.

   “Don't worry, dear. We're here to help.” Gesturing back at the camp, she asked, “What happened here? Who did this?”

   “Men. From Dome. Land in chariot of fire, flame across the ground, with guns that cause pain, others that kill. Like yours. I was hunting, got away, hid in cave.” She paused, then asked, “Why?”

   “I wish I knew,” Cooper asked. “Did you see anything?”

   “After they take women, they killed the rest. All dead. All my people.”

   “The women? They took the women?”

   Nodding, she replied, “They shoot, then take to chariot. Then the others killed the rest, laughing and shouting.” Looking down at the ground, she continued, “I hid. They no find. Maybe they no care.”

   Cantrell pulled out her medical kit, and said, “Let me look at that arm. I think you cut it when you fell.”

   “No!” she said, recoiling from the box. “Evil sign, will kill!”

   “The Red Cross?” Cantrell asked.

   Nodding, Cooper said, “The medical facility on the dome. Far too large for the base complement under normal circumstances. And the genetic problem on Skybase, the need for an expanded genetic pool.” Looking back at the settlement, he said, “They're harvesting genetic material. Using it to try and keep their population going. Breeding stock.”

   “You no hurt?” the girl asked, still looking at the medical kit.

   “No,” he said. “My name's Gabriel. This is Lisa. What's yours?”

   “Reana,” she replied, tears beginning to stream down dirty, mud-splattered cheeks. “Daughter of Elona. They took her, took her away.”

   Frowning, Cantrell said, “We didn't pick up any ships leaving the planet, and this must have happened while we were in transit.” Shaking her head, she said, “No wonder they were in such a hurry to get the transport down, and they were so reluctant to have Alamo on site. They hoped to get this past us.”

   “Meaning that their captives must still be on the planet, somewhere on the base.” Pulling out his communicator, he said, “Cooper to Hunt, come in, urgent.”

   “Sir?” Hunt replied. “I was just about to contact you. We've secured the entire base, aside from the medical bay. Some of them got away and holed up in there, and they have the doors blockaded, independent air supply set up. They're claiming to have hostages, but won't give any details.”

   “Damn,” he said.

   “Something else, sir. They must have done something to the communications system, on the ship and on the base. I can't get through to Alamo. The relay isn't working.”

   Cooper sighed, then said, “Keep a guard, Corporal. We're on our way back right now. Cooper out.” Looking at Reana, he said, “We've got to go. I think we have a chance of rescuing your mother and the others, but we've got to move quickly. Will you come with us?”

   Wide-eyed, she shook her head, and said, “You're going to take me away. Take me with them. Hurt, kill, like the others.”

   “We're not like the others,” Cantrell said. “We're going to stop them. Any way we can, but we might need your help if we're going to do it. You've got to be brave and strong, for their sake.”

   She looked up, frightened eyes going back and forth, and after a long pause, finally nodded, rising to her feet. Moving to the side, she reached into the undergrowth and pulled out another spear, a razor-sharp point at the end. Waving it towards Cooper, her eyes narrowed.

   “If this a trick, you die.”

   “It's no trick,” he said. “Come with me.”

   The trio made their way out of the forest, taking care to avoid the ruins of the settlement, following the thin trails back to the river. Walking by their side, the girl was quiet, her eyes darting about as if constantly expecting a trap. Cooper looked down at her, shaking his head. She'd already been through a kind of hell that he couldn't comprehend, and the only way he could protect her was to risk subjecting her to it again.

   After what seemed like an age, they broke through the tree line, the buggy a short walk over green grass to their right. Reana showed no reaction to the vehicle, still quietly following along, climbing after them into the cabin, taking a seat at the back. Cooper looked back, and she raised her spear, as though preparing to strike them if they did something she didn't like.

   “You can trust us,” he said. “We are here to help you. I promise.”

   “Gabe,” Cantrell said, pointing up at the sky. “We've got problems.”

   He looked up, and saw a star in the heavens, one that wasn't there before. As he looked, he could see a faint plume from its rear, and heard the familiar roar through the open door. A shuttlecraft, on final approach to landing. Either the base had called for reinforcements, or they'd just been unlucky.

   “Get her
moving,” he said. “Burn out the motor if you have to. We've got to beat that shuttle down.”

   “Best guess that we have about half an hour,” she said. “We might make it.”

   “I hope so,” Cooper said. “We're running out of time.”

  Chapter 16

   There was a loud knock on the door of their guest quarters, and Salazar climbed out of his bunk, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and tapping Harper on the shoulder, trying to wake her up.

   “What's going on?” the hacker asked, defiantly keeping her eyes tightly closed.

   “No idea,” he replied. “Someone wants us.” Moving to the door, he threw the bolt to allow it to open. Out in the corridor, Tarak and Valya were standing, the latter amused at his disheveled appearance.

   Shaking his head, Tarak said, “You said that you wanted to look at the conditions of the involuntary workers. It took a little doing, but I managed to arrange a little tour for you.”

   Looking at Tarak, Valya added, “We're anxious to show you that they are treated well, humanely. Probably under better conditions than if they were still on Skybase, or one of those old freighters.”

   With a sigh, Harper threw off the covers and stood up, reaching for her uniform jacket, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in her shirt.

   “Why do you keep it so cold in here?” she asked, shivering.

   “Heat is energy, and energy is life,” Tarak said. “I suggest you wear warm clothing, as we do. Your uniforms will be more than sufficient. Besides, the heat levels are kept at a safe level.”

   “Not a comfortable one, though,” Harper grumbled, shrugging on her jacket.

   “Any news from the negotiations?” Salazar asked.

   “I gather the second session didn't go much better than the first,” Valya replied. “The Council are still refusing to yield on anything. We're going back with some new proposals after lunch. Maybe they'll make some progress. We'll see.” Holding out her arm, she said, “Shall we?”

   They walked down the corridor, heading towards an accessway at the end, a ladder dropping down to a lower level. Tarak seemed to edge ahead of the group, as though reluctant to have anything to do with them, but Valya hung back.

   “You've got to believe that we all want the negotiations to succeed,” she said. “We know what is at stake.” She paused, then asked, “But if they fail, what happens next?”

   “That depends on how it fails, I guess,” Harper said. “We won't pick sides in a war.”

   Tarak led the way down the ladder, silently moving down two rungs at a time, no effort in the low gravity. At the bottom, a guard nodded, glancing at each of them as they walked past, handing sidearms to Tarak and Valya as they passed.

   “Just a precaution,” he said, holstering his weapon. “Sometimes the workers can get desperate. Stupid of them, really. They don't have anywhere better to go, anyway.”

   “Most of them work in Resource Extraction,” Valya said.

   “As I recall,” Salazar replied, “you threatened me with that when we first met.”

   Glancing at Tarak, she said, “It's a messy, nasty job. The recycling systems are as old as the rest of the station, and require essentially constant maintenance. I won't say that it's easy, or even risk-free, but it is vital to our survival, and doesn't require much of a skill base. Others work down in the power plant, or on the internal systems.”

   “You trust them, then?”

   “They're constantly supervised, but at the end of the cycle, what choice do they have?” Tarak said. “If they sabotaged any critical system, they'd die as quickly as everyone else. We can't afford to sustain a parasitic population here. Look at Skybase to see how that ends. At least we don't kill them. That's the Council's way.”

   “Why not hand them over?” Harper asked. “Send them back home?”

   Shaking her head, Valya said, “Think of it as a brain drain. Gradually, we're getting their best engineers, technicians, scientists, pilots over onto our side. We're fighting a war of attrition, and this is one of the fronts where we're having the most success. I don't think it's any secret that Skybase is crumbling for lack of skilled men to maintain it, and this is a big part of that.”

   “And if they want to go home?” Salazar asked.

   “You'd be surprised how few of them choose that option. Most of them end up electing to throw their lot in with us.” Valya paused, then said, “Six years ago, half a dozen of them managed to steal Sailship Nine, and linked up with a gunboat. I think that settled everything.”

   “What happened?”

   “All of them were executed as potential traitors when they got back to Skybase. They claimed that we had infiltrated agents into the escapees, that all of it was some sort of master plan. None of that was true. They were just worried that people would talk about what they saw here, and that others might start to make the comparison. From what I've seen, they've got good cause.”

   They reached the first door, and pushed it open to see Ortok lying on his bunk. He looked up, shaking his head as he saw Salazar and Harper, then turned to face the wall.

   “Go away. I don't want to speak to traitors.”

   “As you can see, the quarters are essentially the same as ours,” Tarak began.

   “But with the lock on the wrong side of the door,” Ortok interrupted. “We will have our revenge. I'm not going to just submit to all of this. I'm getting back to Skybase, and I'll come back with a fleet of gunboats at my back.”

   Frowning, Salazar said, “Can he come with us?”

   “He's only just arrived,” Tarak said. “He's still being processed. Perhaps someone who has been here for somewhat longer might be a better choice.”

   “Are you worried about what I'll say?” Ortok said. “I've already done my first tour down there, and if that's the best you have to offer...”

   “He's a spaceship engineer, and you've got him in waste reclamation?” Harper asked.

   Frowning, Valya said, “That's not usual. Processing should have placed him in an area more appropriate to his skills. This isn't meant to be a punishment. He's just earning his keep.”

   Shaking his head, Tarak replied, “I don't trust him. And you're a fool if you do. Better that he stays down with the dung until he learns better.”

   Looking at the pilot, Valya said, “Ortok, you can come with us. If you want to.”

   “Whose side are you on?” Tarak asked.

   “I was going to ask you the same question,” she replied.

   The guard came down the corridor, pistol in hand, and said, “There's trouble on the upper levels. Something about the Triplanetary murderers.”

   “What sort of trouble?”

   “You'd better get them back to their quarters, where we can put them under guard.”

   Salazar could hear noises coming down from the far end of the corridor, and saw a group of people dropping down to the lower levels, running towards them. Instead of moving to stop them, the guard stepped out of the way, moving back into an alcove, and with a grin on his face, Tarak moved to join him.

   “This way,” Valya said, running in the opposite direction. Salazar looked back at the pilot, who simply grinned at him again, while Harper shot back a look of sheer venom before following Valya. Ortok looked at the crowd and followed, and the four of them raced along the corridors, boots rattling against metal, trying to stay ahead of the group.

   “What the hell is going on?” Harper asked.

   “The guard, the one who died. Poltis decided to let it go as self-defense, announced the decision this morning. This is a small rock,” Valya said, turning around a corner, seemingly at random. “Everyone knows everyone else, and he was well-liked.”

   “And Tarak's happy to let us be torn to pieces by a lynch mob?”

   “We've got to get to the administration level. Contact Poltis and tell him what is going on.”

 
;  “No,” Salazar said. “That's the last place we go. This didn't just spring out of nowhere. Someone's organized all of this, and I can guess who.” He glanced at Harper, and said, “Tarak is a double agent. He's working for the Council.”

   Nodding, Harper added, “He revealed himself to me yesterday. That was all, though. As far as we knew, he wasn't doing anything other than planning an escape route. He claimed his idea was that with us free, your government wouldn't have any leverage on Captain Orlova.”

   Coming to a halt, Valya asked, “And what did you do?”

   Looking at Salazar with a smile, Harper said, “I was all for it, but the wise man here decided that it wouldn't be in our best interests, so he talked me out of it.”

   “We made a commitment to stay, and I intended to follow that to the letter. Not that I expected we'd be torn limb from limb for our troubles.” He looked back, the noise of the crowd getting closer, and added, “If we were going to lie to you, we'd have come up with something that made us look a hell of a lot better than this. Can we get moving?”

   “Either that,” Ortok said, “Or we get ready for a last stand.”

   She nodded, and turned back to the corridor, taking a twisted path around a pile of broken equipment, stacked for later use. Onward they ran, keeping a good distance from the approaching rioters, Ortok at the rear, struggling to keep up with the others. Salazar dropped back, moving alongside.

   “You with us?” he said.

   “Yes,” Ortok replied, gasping for breath. “More exercise than I'm used to, is all. I figure that mob back there won't ask too many questions if they catch us.”

   “Through here,” Valya said, opening up a chute. “This will take us down into the lower crawlspaces. No-one knows about them. Just me.” Without waiting for the others, she dropped down the vertical tunnel, pushing herself down, faster than the minimal gravity alone would take her. Harper dived after her, trusting on instincts or luck, and when Ortok looked as though he was hesitant, Salazar pushed him in.

   The angry crowd bubbled around the corner at the far end of the corridor, armed with clubs, pieces of metal, anything they could find. The guard was corralling them at the rear, urging them on, and Tarak was at their head, pointing at Salazar, shouting something unintelligible that made the crowd behind him roar in satisfaction.