Only the Brave (Lincoln's War Book 3) Page 9

   “Wait one,” Tanaka said. “I’m having trouble clipping on the connector. Slippery.”

   “Bad sign,” Chung replied. “Let me take a look at that.” He reached into the bundle of cables, tugging and tweaking until he managed at last to wrestle the connector into position. “Run it now, Lieutenant.”

   “Feed Alpha-Three,” Tanaka said, tapping the control. All the lights went out, and behind them, a pair of blast doors slammed shut, sirens wailing in the distance, every emergency circuit cutting into life at once, a chaotic cacophony of noise from every speaker. Romano didn’t hesitate, immediately sprinting down the corridor, making his way to the destination he had memorized, following the instructions he had been given by Zani, hours before.

   He’d had no opportunity to warn the others of this chance, had been under surveillance the entire time, but both Tanaka and Xiang were quick to move, Chung simply standing by the maintenance panel, looking around with baffled eyes as his comrades made their escape. Romano turned the first corner he came to, then the second, racing past sealed doors. Behind him, another blast door closed, Zani’s method of discouraging pursuit, slowing the security forces that would be chasing them down.

   With long, loping strides, Xiang caught up with Romano, running alongside, with Tanaka bringing up the rear, a handful of paces behind them. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance, every section the same, lit only by the dull crimson of the emergency lighting, barely half of them flickering into life as needed.

   The sirens abruptly died, and silence briefly reigned, replaced after a moment with a low, loud boom, the intruder alarm, summoning the local security detachments to hunt down the escaped prisoners. Zani’s sabotage had bought them a little time, a handful of moments, but their time was running out, and fast.

   Wordlessly, the three men ran on down the corridor, Romano leading them on a twisted course that took them deep into the bowels of the station, the gravity growing lighter as they approached the core. Behind them, in the far distance, he heard boots ringing on the deck, the pursuit force hard on their heels and gaining ground, their familiarity with the station working for their benefit as they pressed down on the prisoners.

   Zani had given clear directions to Romano. So far, all of them had paid out. Now, at last, the corridors were different, no doors in the wall, no signs of frequent habitation, and in the far distance, they could just make out the rhythmic pounding of pumps working, the huge high-pressure storage tanks for the gas harvested from the star just beneath them.

   Another corridor, this time a long one, with an inspection hatch at the end, open and inviting, prepared by the same forced malfunction that had given them their chance. The security force was gaining ground behind them, almost within weapons range, and Romano pressed for greater speed, sprinting madly down the corridor, Xiang still keeping pace but Tanaka falling behind, two paces now, the guards lining up their rifles to fire.

   Three cracks, three shots, darts flying through the air towards their target. Two of them missed. The third found its mark, and Tanaka slumped to the ground, his arms reaching, struggling for some unseen goal, finally still. Romano looked back for a second, longing to save his friend from recapture, but there was nothing he could do, not without throwing away everything they had gained. He pressed on, gesturing for Xiang to go first, the PacFed technician needing no encouragement to dive into the hatch feet first, falling down the long shaft. Romano was more cautious, ducking inside and working the locks, clamping the manual seals in place one after another before dropping away, permitting himself to fall.

   The station was a mile deep, a quarter mile wide, one of the largest he’d ever seen. And using rotational rather than artificial gravity, which would reap some significant advantages in their escape. Romano and Xiang were falling towards the central core, the heart of the station, twelve huge storage tanks supported by a network of intricate latticework. He had to judge his move right, weight falling away but momentum remaining, and he reached out with his arms, grabbing a protruding strut and using it to swing away, out of sight of the guards trying to open the hatch up above. He timed his move to the second, hurling himself further into the distance, aiming for one of the tanks, dominating the heart of the station.

   Muttering a silent prayer to his long-dead instructor in zero-gravity acrobatics, he swung himself to a stop, looping nimbly around a strut and coming to rest just under a tank, roosting like a bat, trying not to look at the seemingly endless space around them. His fingers brushed the tank, then recoiled, the icy chill sucking all the heat from his body. He tugged his uniform jacket closer around him, glanced at his watch, and tried to settle down and relax.

   If Zani’s information had been good, the tanks would mask his presence from the internal sensor systems, so long as he stayed close to them. The security teams would conduct a search, would continue to look for hours, but after a little time, they’d start to lose their edge, would assume that they might have found some way to escape the station. Tanaka wouldn’t be able to help them, one reason he’d not briefed the others on his plan, though he couldn’t escape the pangs of guilt at the fate of his friend. Maybe he could work out a way to rescue him. Maybe.

   His eyes widened as he felt a sharp point poking into his back, and he craned his neck around to look at the figure behind him. Xiang, holding an improvised knife, a piece of hull metal evidently laboriously carved, more than sufficient to kill him in a matter of seconds. He had no weapon, and the PacFed technician had all the advantages.

   “Get it over with,” Romano said.

   “Not until we have a conversation. How did you pull that off?”

   “Zani. The Garrison Commander. I made a deal with her. She arranges my escape, and later the escape of everyone else, and I find out who’s trying to kill her. The explosion on the freighter was no accident. It was sabotage, aimed at her, and apparently organized by one of her own people.”

   “My heart truly bleeds for her. So you’ve switched sides?”

   “She’s working with a faction that wants to bring the war to an end, if I believe what she told me. Based on that, it seemed logical to try and save her life. Besides, I wasn’t doing any good locked away in the prison barracks. Free, I have options.” Glancing at Xiang, he added, “I was hoping that the rest of us would get away. I couldn’t warn you.”

   “That much I understand. Not with the Guilders watching our every move. Pity about Tanaka. Chung is no loss. He’s got too used to being a captive. Sheep.” Pressing the knife in again, he continued, “Give me one good reason not to kill you.”

   “I’m far more use alive than I would be dead. I know the plan, and there’s some other useful equipment cached around the station. Theoretically to allow me to hack into the local network and find out just what is going on. If I get caught, Zani has plausible deniability. If I pull it off, she owes me. Big.”

   “And just what makes you think that she’d actually go through with her deal? You’ll have nothing to bargain with.”

   Cracking a smile, he replied, “What makes you think I’m going along with this all the way?”

   “You’ve got a plan?”

   “There’s a task force forming at Zemlya. Enough ships to make a real mess of the Guilders, take out this station and rescue all the prisoners. Based on the size of this station, it’s got to be one of their major economic assets. Taking it down would be a big step forward, and rescuing us would provide enough crewmen to man half a dozen escorts. Don’t tell me you don’t want some payback.”

   “Maybe.”

   “We’ve got to get a signal out. There’s a hyperspace transmitter on this station, and we happen to have a way of hacking into the network. We’re only going to get one chance at this. Are you with me?”

   “For the moment,” Xiang said, sliding his blade into a pocket. “One false move, Lieutenant, and you are a dead man. Understand?”

   �
�The same applies to you. We mess this up, the Guilders will kill us both, without a second thought.” He glanced at his watch again, and said, “We need to stay here for at least two hours. Try and make yourself comfortable. It’s going to be a long wait.”

  Chapter 13

   Tanaka knew well enough that the endless, repeating drip of water from the ceiling was intentional, no accident. That it was not constant, the gap between the drips ever-changing, was proof enough of that. An old technique, designed to throw a prisoner off-balance, to ensure that he couldn’t focus, except on the drip, drip, drip. He sat with his back to the cold metal wall, eyes locked on the door, waiting for an opportunity, a chance, to escape, cursing his tardiness before.

   Romano had got away. As had Xiang. He’d seen that much before the tranquilizers took effect, and he knew his friend well enough to know that once he had got clear of the corridor, given the guards the slip, he wouldn’t be recaptured easily or quickly. Xiang he was less certain of, knowing little of the PacFed technician other than his animosity, but his instincts had been sharp. That boded well.

   There was a rattle at the door, and he rose to his feet, ready to meet his captor head-up. He had no intention of attempting escape, not with so little to work with, and as the door opened, his caution was more than justified, a trio of guards standing at the threshold, rifles in their arms, all of them trained on his chest.

   “Overkill?” he said. “I’m glad you’re that scared of me.”

   “We’re not scared of you, Lieutenant,” a cold voice said, the brutal guard from their capture stepping forward, moving between his comrades. He had a metal stick in his hand, one end humming. A pain rod. Used by some of the nations on Earth less interested in the rights of prisoners back in his day. He’d been on the wrong end of one in the past, shivered at the memory, but while the rod could inflict severe pain, there was no actual damage. That was the whole point. To break a man without wounding him was the goal of all master interrogators.

   “For the record, Tanaka, Raul, Lieutenant.”

   “Aren’t you supposed to give me your serial number?”

   “I thought I’d hold that back for a while. Otherwise this could be a very short conversation.” Looking around the cell, he added, “I’d offer you a chair, but I’m afraid the hotel didn’t provide one.”

   “Are all officers in your fleet this flippant, Lieutenant?”

   “Only the good ones.”

   Stepping forward, the door slamming shut behind him, the guard replied, “Where is Lieutenant Romano?” Before Tanaka could reply, he continued, “I don’t for a moment think that you will actually give me the information I’m looking for. I doubt you have it. He’s probably running around the lower levels right now, playing games with the security monitors. Sooner or later, we will either catch him, or we will kill him. It will do no good.”

   “If you know that I have no useful information, why are you wasting your time with me?”

   “Perhaps I am a sadist.”

   “Sadists make lousy interrogators. They get too involved with the means, and tend to neglect the ends. Besides, you’ve only got a pain rod, and that’s nothing new to me.”

   “I see,” the guard replied, swinging the rod around and catching Tanaka in the side, pain searing through his body as he collapsed to the floor, sweat building on his forehead. He gasped for breath as the rod was withdrawn, the guard standing over him again, a frown on his face.

   “I take it you aren’t a masochist, then,” he said. “Perhaps, Lieutenant, you might be disposed to be somewhat more cooperative. We learned a lot from you under chemical stimulation, after your arrival. Perhaps there was something we missed, something you kept back. After all, you could only respond to the questions you were asked. Our drugs preclude the very concept of individual initiative.” Stepping forward, he added, “Sometimes, we give a greater dose. One which can become permanent. An effective means of dealing with troublemakers, wouldn’t you agree?”

   “Not especially,” Tanaka replied, gasping for breath. “A broken man is a useless man, and if you steal the initiative of a worker, you might as well replace him with a robot.”

   “Tell me about Lieutenant Romano.”

   “He snores, he’s bad at poker, and he’s got terrible taste in music. Good dancer, though.” The pain stick swung again, and through tears of pain, Tanaka added, “You’re wasting your time. He’s out there, and he’s going to bring you and your friends down, and with any luck, I’m going to be here to see it.”

   “Not if I throw you out of the nearest airlock. Don’t get the idea that anyone gives a damn about you. You’re a dead man. Unless I choose to bring you back to life.”

   Glaring up from the floor, Tanaka said, “You really need to see someone about those delusions of yours. They sound pretty serious.” Pain flooded his system again, and this time he couldn’t hold back his scream, his wailing cries echoing from the walls, bringing a brief flicker of satisfaction to his torturer.

   “Lieutenant Romano,” the guard pressed. “He’s not just a normal crewman. He’s working for Zemlyan Intelligence, and he has a contact on board this station. Someone helped you and the others escape, and I will have that name if I have to tear it out of your hide!”

   Looking up, Tanaka said, “Give it up, damn it! This isn’t going to convince anyone! They’ll work out it was you sooner or later.” Grimacing, he added, “If you’re supposed to be putting on a show, you really ought to be doing this in public.”

   The guard paused, the door behind him sliding open, and he said, “Try something better. You aren’t convincing anyone.”

   One of the rifle-wielding guardsmen in the corridor asked, “Narik, where were you during the alert? You didn’t report with the rest of your section.”

   “Don’t be stupid, Ndidi,” Narik replied. “I’m not the one you’re looking for. This is just a trick, and a pretty damned obvious one at that.” Glaring at Tanaka, he continued, “Close the door. I’ll have what I’m looking for if I have to beat it out of this bastard’s soul with a stick!”

   “No, you won’t,” a new voice said, Zani walking towards them. “You’re getting nowhere, and so far the only person under suspicion is you.” Looking at Tanaka with disdain, she added, “He’s not going to tell us anything we don’t already know. I think your time is far better served working in the lower levels.”

   Stepping towards her, Narik said, “Look, damn it, Romano was working with someone, with one of us. That should be obvious, even to you. We’ve got to find him, before he can do any more damage. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

   “I’m the Garrison Commander. My decisions are the only ones that matter. And I say that you’re running around up here chasing ghosts while you should be searching the lower decks for the escaped prisoners.” Turning to Ndidi, she added, “What’s the prognosis on Chung?”

   “Total breakdown,” the guard replied with a shrug. “No chance of recovery.”

   “And did we get anything intelligible out of him before he collapsed?” Turning on Narik, she asked, “Did we?”

   “No, ma’am, we didn’t, but I don’t think he was a part of Lieutenant Romano’s conspiracy. He’s obviously working with this man and with Xiang, as well as at least one other up here. There’s no other way for him to have dug into the system and brought down the optical array. Damn it, if he had that level of systems knowledge, we’d be dead already. There are a thousand ways he could have sabotaged the network to bring down life support, rotational gravity, anything. Either he has something else in mind, or he’s working with a traitor.”

   “Ghosts and shadows, but if you insist on proving your conspiracy, there’s one obvious target for interrogation. Lieutenant Romano. Find him, and you’ll find this traitor of yours. Assuming of course that he actually exists, and isn’t just another of your paranoid delusions. Go down to the core and set up a new search, and th
is time I expect results.”

   “Ma’am,” Ndidi replied, “Those levels are huge, and internal sensors don’t work very well in that region. There must be a couple of thousand places to hide down there, and plenty of easy, concealed access between them. I propose that we wait, smoke them out. Turn off life support in the core. It’ll take a long time, but there’s not very much they can do without equipment. Sooner or later, they’ll surrender, try to escape, or die. Either way, we have them.”

   “No!” Narik pressed. “We can’t wait that long, and we don’t know what they might be capable of. Say they’ve managed to get hold of a few shaped charges. They could tear the station to pieces if they hit the right spot. We’ve got to get them now, and I still say that this man is the key.” Turning to Tanaka, he asked, “What is their goal, their objective?” At Tanaka’s silence, he raised his pain rod again, and said, “Tell me, tell me now!”

   “Leave it!” Zani barked. “He doesn’t know, and you’re wasting time. Maybe you are the saboteur. You certainly seem uninterested in tracking down the prisoners. Go below, and find them. And don’t come back up here until you’ve got them! Do I make myself clear?” Narik glared in sullen silence, and she repeated, “Do I make myself clear?”

   “Clear,” he said. “I will be making a full report on this to the Supreme Council. You are not the only one with influential friends. By the time I’ve finished, you’ll be sweeping up sand on Procyon III. With a toothbrush.” Looking at Ndidi, he said, “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll set up a search pattern starting at Entrance Three.”

   “It’s going to take days.”

   “Then it’s just going to have to take days, isn’t it!” he replied, as the two of them walked down the corridor, the other riflemen following. Zani pulled out her pistol, aiming it at Tanaka, and gestured for him to stand.