Starfighter (Strike Commander Book 1) Page 8

   Angel nodded over her shoulder, and Morgan made a silent gesture to her right, indicating their own shadows. He glanced appreciatively at the archaeologist-marine, a quiet compliment. Usually it took some time for newcomers to get used to the scale of this place. At times, it still daunted him, even after half a hundred visits.

   “Over to the right,” he said, gesturing toward a sign that simply said, 'Vlad's', a pair of obvious guards standing at parade rest outside, rifles in hands, providing cover for the more covert security that provided the real protection. As he headed towards the sanctuary of the bar, he could feel a hand reaching for him, and started to swat it away again, only to feel an intense pulse of pain running through his body, sending him collapsing to the floor.

   “Neural whip!” he gasped, the crowd rapidly dispersing as they fled the battle. He struggled on the floor, trying to overcome the waves of agony that washed over him, a never-receding tide of pain that only grew as the aftereffects of the weapon kicked in. Through tear-misted eyes, he could see other figures moving forward, diving for Morgan, while the crack of Angel's pistols tore through the air, an unseen assailant firing the bullet that sent her tumbling back, her new friend clutching at her chest.

   Somehow, he forced his hand to grasp the butt of his pistol, dragging it clear from his holster and firing wild shots into the air in a desperate hope that he could at least slow them down. Morgan used the brief second of distraction well, slamming her elbow into the face of her nearest attacker, then rolling under him, dragging the unconscious figure down to use him as a shield, reaching for her weapon.

   The pain evaporated in an instant, and he saw a nimble, dark-haired woman racing forward, holding an empty stim patch in one hand and a pistol in the other. Vlad's guards were providing covering fire, and with his renewed energy, he joined in the melee, winging one of his fleeing opponents as they staggered towards one of the tunnels, fleeting in to the labyrinth of passages below. Morgan turned to chase them, but Angel held her back, shaking her head.

   “They could be going anywhere, and they'll have the advantage,” she replied.

   Turning to his new-found ally, Conway said, “Thank you.”

   “No problem,” she said, dragging him to his feet. “Vlad won't be happy that you've made a mess outside his bar.”

   “He'll get over it.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Captain Jack Conway, commander of the Churchill.”

   “Cassandra Bennett,” she replied, shaking his hand with a firm grip. Looking around at the guards, she said, “Dmitri, Frank, get these bodies taken down to disposal. Don't forget to take DNA samples, just in case they have a bounty on them.”

   “Recognize any of them?” he asked.

   “None of them local. Means nothing.” Gesturing at the door, she said, “They can handle it. Vlad's waiting for you inside.” Glaring at Morgan, she continued, “All three of you.”

   Raising an eyebrow, Conway followed her in, the others following as the guards took up a reinforced vigil at the door. Normally, the bar was full of people, one of the most popular spots on the Understrip, but today it was closed, a bored bartender lounging by the drinks dispenser. Sitting alone in one of the booths was the stout figure of Vlad Koslov, who shook his head as Conway approached.

   “Bad business out there,” he replied. “And you've made a mess of your coat.”

   Looking down, Conway saw a sticky stain, remembering the half-eaten meat stick, and said, “Just adds to the character. I ought to sell it to you.”

   “Somehow I believe that even I would struggle to find a buyer for such a unique commodity.”

   “Cut the crap, Vlad,” Angel said. “You know we didn't start that fight.”

   “As lovely as ever, a credit to your name,” he replied, shaking his head. “No, I know you didn't start the fight, but I'm almost certain you inspired it.” Turning to Morgan, he said, “No need to introduce yourself, Ensign. I'm quite familiar with your record.”

   “I'm not a murderer,” she said.

   “Of course not,” he replied. “That's the usual protest of the guilty.”

   “She didn't do it, Vlad,” Conway said, sitting down at the table. “We found the station all smashed up, broken to pieces. We've got some of the artifacts you wanted...”

   Raising a hand, he interrupted, “And I presume you are planning to request full payment for the reduced cargo you have?”

   “These are one-of-a-kind pieces now, and their rarity has only gone up. I'm certain you'll be able to get a far better deal at your end, based on that, so why shouldn't I expect you to spread the joy around a little?” He gestured at Morgan, who reluctantly yielded her datapad. “Here's a complete list.”

   Vlad scanned down it, nodding appreciatively, before passing it to Bennett. “It seems reasonable, though my expert will want to examine the cargo for herself first. There is something to what you say, and I am willing to pay three-quarters of the fee. For only half the merchandise, I think I'm being rather fair.”

   “Wait a minute,” Morgan said. “Karnak Station was destroyed. Wiped out, and several major artifacts stolen. My friends died for those pieces...”

   With a deep sigh, Vlad replied, “If you wish to return home, it might be arranged, though I expect your life expectancy would be short. I suggest you join Jack's crew.” Looking at Angel, he added, “He's got a reputation for picking up strays.”

   “Say that again,” Angel said, darkly.

   “Not here,” Conway replied, flashing her a warning look. “Vlad, I said you might be able to help her. It was a Triplanetary vessel that destroyed the station. The Hermes, specifically.”

   Shaking his head, Vlad said, “You are honest almost to the point of insanity, my friend. What you have just informed me is that the goods I was about to buy are far more dangerous than I had expected.”

   “No, what I've told you is that there are other interested parties who might be willing to pay even more.” Leaning forward, a smile on his face, he added, “More to the point, they might be very interested to know who sent us on our latest mission. So why don't we make that a full payment, after all?”

   “Boss,” one of the guards said, running in. “One of the DNA traces matched.”

   “Excellent. Have the purser claim...”

   “No bounty,” he said, shaking his head. “Military. Triplanetary Fleet. Lance-Corporal Grant Cowper.”

   His eyes widened, and Vlad replied, “An Espatier here, undercover, on my station?”

   “Yours?” Morgan asked.

   “Well, twenty-one percent of it, specifically, but who's counting small details like that?” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Did anyone manage to get a tracer on them?”

   “I did,” Bennett replied, tapping her pocket. “Readings coming through loud and clear.”

   “We've got to go after them,” Morgan said, moving to the door. “They've got to know something about what happened on Karnak.”

   Shaking his head, Conway replied, “Not now. An hour or so would be better.”

   “Why wait?”

   “Because they'll be running all over the corridors trying to lay a false trail, and I don't see any need to follow the trail of crazy breadcrumbs when we can just walk right to their secret base by waiting for a little while.”

   With a beaming smile, Vlad said, “Excellent reasoning, my friend. I will assemble a small force to accompany you, no more than, say three persons. I presume the three of you will represent Churchill?”

   “Damn right,” Morgan said.

   Frowning, Vlad replied, “You realize, of course, that my help will come with a price.”

   “Here we go,” Angel said. “What is it this time?”

   “We can discuss payment later,” he replied, looking at Conway. “It is sufficient to know that there is a price, and that at some point, it must be paid. You understand.”

   Nodding, C
onway said, “With you, there's always a price. I've learned that much.”

   “Do not blame me, my friends,” he replied. “It is a law of the universe, as fundamental as gravitation. Now, permit me to provide you with some coffee, on the house, and we can discuss unloading those interesting artifacts you were able to retrieve.” Turning to the bartender, he raised an arm, and said, “Five Baden Coffees, at once.”

   “Baden?” Morgan asked.

   “The Grand Duchess, you know. Hot as Hades, strong as death, black as night,” he smiled, and concluded, “and sweet as love.” Pulling out another datapad, he said, “Now, about the unloading schedule...”

  Chapter 7

   Even though she was on the run from the forces of her own government, a bounty on her head, tracking through a maze of subterranean tunnels in a system she didn't know existed a few hours ago, Morgan hadn't been this relaxed for a long time. Once more, she was doing what she was meant to do, what she had been trained to do. This was her element. With a little effort, she could almost imagine herself back on Mariner Station with Fifth Company, right down to Lieutenant-Major Eddington preparing some special hell for her over an imagined rules violation.

   She glanced back at the cluster of people behind her, Angel in the lead, lean as a panther, followed by Conway, Bennett and two of Vlad's guards. She had asked their names, and been told that they counted as information she didn't need to know. As long as they followed orders and hit their targets, it would be enough.

   Her respirator flashed twice, announcing that they had once again entered a patch of unbreathable air. These tunnels had been sealed, just like the rest of the complex, but no special effort had been made to render them habitable on a permanent basis. Anyone straying this far would have sufficient warning to get to a safer area, or find an oxygen mask.

   Raising her hand to bring the column to a halt, she laid her rifle on the floor and pulled out her combat datapad, a gift from their unexpected benefactor. Cutting-edge Triplanetary technology, she noted. This wouldn't have even made it out to the field regiments yet. Presumably the means by which he acquired it was also something she didn't need to know.

   “We're almost there,” she said, her voice low. “According to the chart, we've got a branch in the tunnels up ahead, leading to a cavern complex. They'll be a guard outpost in front of it, probably with some barricades set up for defense.”

   “How do you know that?” one of the guards asked.

   “That's where I'd put it,” she replied, peering down the corridor. “Around the next turning, maybe fifty meters ahead to give a good killing zone.”

   “I don't like the sound of that,” Conway said with a smile. “We're not going to take it by force. Any way around?”

   “No,” Bennett replied, glancing at her own datapad. “When the extraction snakes moved in, they managed to create a natural choke-point. There's only one way into this cavern complex.”

   Frowning, Conway replied, “That seems strange.”

   “Why?”

   “If I was setting up a top-secret installation, having an emergency exit would be fairly high on my list of priorities.” Shaking his head, he added, “It doesn't matter for the present, but watch out for that when we break through.”

   The guards looked at each other, the braver of the two saying, “I don't think charging them is a good idea. Maybe we could find this hidden way in?”

   “If there is one, we could be wandering around down here for days trying to find it. We don't have the time.” Morgan looked at Angel, and continued, “They know we're onto them, and they'll be planning to move out.”

   Nodding, Angel added, “And they'll be ready for us, and getting readier by the second.”

   With a growing smile, Morgan replied, “Follow my lead, and be ready.” Sliding her rifle onto her back, she raised her hands, rose to her feet, and walked down the corridor, slowly and carefully, heading for the turning.

   “Are you out of your mind?” Angel said.

   “Probably. Be ready.”

   Taking a deep breath, she turned around the corner, the two guards in position just as she had expected, behind a low-velocity machine gun that was more than capable of ripping her in half without doing any appreciable damage to the wall. Both wore Triplanetary service respirators, image-intensification goggles linked to their weapon, and tracked her down the corridor as she approached.

   “Halt,” one of them said.

   “I'm Ensign Nicola Morgan,” she replied. “I'm here to turn myself in to your commanding officer. I've got some valuable information for him, and I'm willing to trade it for my safety.”

   They looked at each other, and one of them reached down for a communicator, keeping his eyes locked on her the whole time as he spoke to his superior. After a moment, he gestured at his comrade to move towards her, pistol in hand.

   “Drop that weapon,” the approaching figure said. “I'm going to search you, put you in restraints, then take you to see the commander. Our orders are to take you alive, but I've got special permission to violate them if you cause any trouble. It'd make my life a lot easier, so don't tempt me.”

   “Wouldn't dream of it,” she replied, sliding her rifle to the floor and positioning it to point at the oncoming guard, hoping that someone behind her would take the hint. The man slowly approached, his gaze fixed on her, and as he was about to draw level, a single shot rang out, catching him in the chest, sending him toppling backwards. Before the machine gun could fire, she dived forward, catching the body and using it as a shield, his erstwhile friend delaying just long enough for her to snatch the pistol from the dying man and fire a quick pair of shots over his shoulder, slamming into the shoulder of the gunner.

   Letting the body drop, she raced forward, stolen pistol in hand, as the rest of the attack squad moved forward. The man was still alive, looking up at her with his eyes wide, gasping for breath. She paused for a moment, the enormity of what she had done beginning to sink in. This was a soldier in the Triplanetary Fleet, just like her, and she'd shot him without a second thought, after leading another man to his death.

   Pausing for a moment while the others caught up, she looked back at the dead figure on the deck, wondering who he was, whether he knew what he was doing. With an effort, she dragged back into her thoughts the image of her dead comrades, floating in Karnak Operations, the tangled bodies drifting through the air, and the rage returned again.

   “Your rifle,” Angel said, looking her up and down. “That was good work.”

   “Good training,” she replied, turning her attention back to the wounded guard. “Any more of you out there?”

   “Go to hell,” he said.

   “I've been there,” she replied, “and your commander bought me the ticket.”

   “Wait,” Bennett said, gesturing to the nearest guard. “Take him for questioning. Use the Deep Red safehouse.”

   “Yes, ma'am,” he replied, roughly picking up the wounded man, throwing him over his shoulder and walking back down the corridor, careful to step over the corpse.

   Looking ahead, Angel said, “Left and right. We should split up, cover more ground.”

   “Agreed,” Conway replied. “Morgan, you and Angel take the left. The rest of us will take the other one.” Glancing down his chosen corridor, he added, “If I'm right, that'll take us towards the surface. If they do decide to evacuate, they'll have to get through us.”

   “Understood,” Morgan said, sliding the stolen pistol into a pocket and hefting her rifle once again. “Let's move.”

   Letting Angel take point this time, she followed down the chosen passage, glancing back to see Bennett wreck the machine gun with a skill that could only have been born of long practice. She looked up at her, flashing Morgan a wink before heading after Conway.

   “Get the feeling there's more going on than we know?” she asked.

   “Always,” Angel said. “
Where are we going?”

   “Nearest cavern is to the left, two turns.”

   “Right.”

   The two of them followed the indicated trail, careful to hug the wall, ready for an attack that never came. Scattered crates and containers littered the floor as they headed deeper into the complex, and it was rapidly clear that the enemy was in the process of pulling out. She shook her head, hardly believing that all of this would have been thrown away just for her. There had to be something else, something deeper, and the answer would lie along the trail.

   A pair of solid metal doors awaited them at the entrance to the cavern, and as Angel moved to stand guard, Morgan dived for the control panel, sliding an intrusion datarod into position, carefully making adjustments to the hacking software as she struggled to override the locking mechanism. They needed to get inside, without alerting anyone else to their location. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. By now someone would have spotted that the guards at the entrance had been taken out, and alarms would be ringing at any moment.

   The doors creaked open with a noise that echoed down the corridor, and she turned with a start to make sure they had not yet been spotted, before moving into the room. Her eyes widened as she saw what was inside, a tear of joy running down her face. The cavern was filled with artifacts, all of the ones she recognized, every one a memory of happier times.

   “Is it all here?” Angel asked.

   “I'm not sure,” she said, shaking her head. “We'll have to do an inventory later. At least this means my friends didn't die for nothing.”

   “As long as we don't, I'll be happy.” Turning to the door, Angel said, “Someone's coming. According to the charts, there's another way out of this cavern. I presume you don't want a firefight in here.”

   “Come on,” Morgan said, racing through the alien statues, leering shapes looming out of the shadows towards her, weaving in and out as she sprinted for the far exit. As she approached, the door slid open, an unfamiliar figure heading inside, a pistol in hand, leveled at her head. Before she could even reach her weapon, the man collapsed to the floor, Angel taking him with a snap snot.