Angolin, p.16
Angolin, page 16
“Affirmative, but are you certain it’ll work? TS is shaky enough technology. I’m not so sure about mobile suppression via internals. This kind of thing is normally done by more advanced equipment.”
“You were the developer-specialist in your enlisted days, Thee, you tell me if it’ll work.”
“Well, both of our internals acting in concert might be enough, provided anyone using TS is close enough to detect. We’ll need to maximize field strengths to increase range. But, Dharm, even if it works and if anyone’s here, how will we find them in this crowd?”
“Set dampening to short interval bursts and keep your eyes peeled for distortions, Lieutenant, that’s how. We have to neutralize their PTS gravity wells without compromising any port systems.”
They navigated the mass, watching and scanning. The painfully slow-moving throngs weren’t helping either of them focus sights. Dharmen’s mind numbed at the thought of a missing traitor—two missing traitors—to contend with. He contacted Dori for official instructions.
“As you were, Lieutenant Commander. Nothing we can do about Armetrian from here,” was her order before signing off.
“You realize he could be anywhere besides Bemin, and he probably is,” Theus reasoned. “Armetrian’s not stupid. If he’s been gone over twenty-eight hours, who knows where he might be? Gennet will have half a unit looking for him.”
Dharmen stopped. The distortion in the corner of his eye was just enough. “Won’t be necessary, Lieutenant. We’ve found him.”
“What?” Theus followed his gaze to Armetrian, standing across the tarmac. A woman appeared beside him. Her PTS had undoubtedly also been affected by the makeshift dampeners. Armetrian glared defiantly at Dharmen until his companion grabbed his arm and yanked him away. They disappeared through the crowd. “Dharm, we’ve got to contact—”
“No time!” Dharmen unholstered his sidearm and dove into the crowd with Theus behind him.
Through hordes of dumbfounded faces, he glimpsed his targets. He yelled at onlookers to clear the way; somehow the sight of his drawn gun hadn’t done the job. He shoved bodies out of his path and ignored the protests. Theus and Dharmen reached the spot where he initially spotted the pair, stopped, and scanned. Their targets were nowhere to be seen, and there were too many people to visually sift through until Dharmen located another mark: a head of dirty-blond hair flying in the winds blowing in from above the Abyssal ceiling.
Armetrian’s dull features blended him into the crowd, but Vara was readily noticeable. She and her fleeing companion were having as much difficulty getting through the masses as their chasers, tripping up and knocking down the unwary as they ran. They scrambled and disappeared around the corner of a hangar. Hovering maintenance synths swerved to avoid them.
Dharmen and Theus rounded the structure, crossed its forward tarmac. Tour groups continued to abound, and Dharmen wondered to the Netherlords why they were allowed in a restricted area. But at least there were fewer of them here to deal with.
He spotted Armetrian running fast. Alone. “Get down!” Dharmen bellowed. Heads turned, then vanished as everyone in his line of fire dropped. He tightened his finger across the trigger, pressed—
A flash blinded his sight, followed within a fraction of a second by a hard thrust to his chest.
“Dharmen!” Theus yelled.
Dharmen barely heard him. His attention was on the familiar sensation of the particle shot, and his body hitting the ground. He was aware enough to comprehend that Armetrian continued to flee while Vara lay in wait for him to round that blind corner. He had taken that bait too easily.
“Dharmen, are you okay?” Theus crouched beside him. “Sound off, Lieutenant Commander. Speak to me!”
Dharmen’s eyes opened and blinked. “I’m fine, Thee,” he said in a strangely leisurely tone. “I hope.”
“Krone’s balls!” Theus stared, stumped. “That weapon either wasn’t set to stun or didn’t have the feature. The beam was too intense. How can you possibly be . . .?”
Dharmen got up, partially undid his tunic, and reached in to examine the hit. Nothing. “Thee, I’ll explain later. Let’s just try to get them. And this time, let’s stay sharp!”
Looking around and finding no sign of Vara or Armetrian, he ran in the direction where he’d last seen the latter. Theus followed.
They didn’t get far.
The ground rumbled with the force of heavy antigrav drives. One, two, then three massive starships were rising above Port. The sight was amazing. Nearly two kilometers in length each, they were gigantic. Dharmen had seen them on the ground in shallow hollows turned berth-sets, but never in the air. HRA-20 heavy cruisers they were, fresh out of workups and built for deep space travel. But these ships left at too low an angle for orbit. And their pilots weren’t bothering with stealthtech. Port sensors must have been thoroughly scrambled.
“Maybe they’re carrying some of the VIP groups back home. Those are passenger ships, aren’t they?” Theus asked.
“Oh, they’re for passengers, all right,” Dharmen answered. “Passenger crew. Hundreds at a time for space exploration, and not just going back to Angolin.” He turned and headed toward one ship’s vacated anchorage.
“Where are you going?” Theus called after him.
“Fill Dori in and get to MC, quick! We have to get a pursuit force after them!”
“But Dharmen—”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant!”
Dharmen arrived at Anchorage Six, the closest berth-set for one of the escaping cruisers. The tour groups along the way had nearly evaporated, but he barely noticed. He moved stealthily to the anchorage’s control tower, ducking behind building supports and equipment stands to dodge roving security synths. He had the distinct feeling of being watched, and not by artificial eyes or internal tracking. But he couldn’t use PTS and his dampener simultaneously, and if Armetrian’s ground people tried to escape under PTS, he had to keep them visible.
He reached the tower entrance and allowed himself to be scanned. No other choice if he wanted access. The door slid open. He entered the small vestibule. There was no guard, flesh or synth. Towers were priority-one secure sections. Why was no one here? He went to the lift and let its sensor scan him for entry; there was no choice if he wanted access. Then he left the lift for the stairwell. No sense in getting trapped like that.
He climbed, the dizzying sensation from the upward twisting turns feeling too much like the point-blank particle hit he’d just taken. Laser focus kept him from vomiting. He reached into his tunic and felt around more thoroughly. Still no sign of blood or any wound at all. That idea worked. Hope it’ll continue to, he thought.
At the top of the stairs, Dharmen paused. Curiously, there was still no one to be seen, but he knew his every move since entering the tower had been monitored. He reached the control hub door. Gun in hand, he commanded it open and burst through.
Someone rushed him faster than he could turn and fire, kicking the sidearm from his hand. His combat instincts took over as a fist flew at his face. He blocked the punch and landed a bone-crushing one to his assailant’s jaw. The attacker lifted his pulse rifle but got a hard, swift knee to the abdomen before he could fire. He fell to the floor groaning, and his weapon tumbled from reach. Dharmen unsheathed his sword, held it to the other’s throat.
“Morning, Shipman. Interesting to meet you here.”
Stunned eyes went to the rifle.
“Don’t even think about it.” Dharmen pressed his blade tip deeper into the shipman’s flesh and said, “Turn over now or lose your head!”
Looking mortified, Narond capitulated.
Dharmen pulled two sets of manacles from his belt pouch, placing one set across Narond’s wrists and the other across his ankles. Both sets activated the instant they were laid, their end sealers quickly finding their targets and tightening their grip.
Port Security arrived in force. Their lead asked for the manacle key codes. She wanted to put the prisoner into her own restraints and free his legs for transport.
Dharmen refused. “I’ll collect him and take him back to Seventh later, much later. In the meantime, let him hop his way to your brig!”
Dharmen entered MC, ignoring the harried faces turning to him from workstation uprights.
“Report!” Dori ordered.
He complied, beginning with Armetrian and Vara, and ending with Narond’s capture. “I got the first half of that from Thee,” she said, “and I have a portwide lockdown in place till we can get our bearings. We’re in pursuit of the stolen cruisers. As for Armetrian and his friend,” she paused at his expectant look, “we’ll keep searching for them now that we have partial sensors. Theus is scanning for their internals’ signatures, but he’s coming up blank. They must have escaped on one of those ships.”
“Partial sensors,” Dharmen said and threw up both hands. “After having been saboed. Of course! Why not? Thee, is there any way we can boost the scan range to—”
“Ma’am, the pursuit force has located the stolen cruisers,” came a report to Dori from a monitoring station.
“Where, Petty Officer?” Dori asked.
“Bearing north five seven east, less than fifty klicks out. Our people have overridden and patched into the cruisers’ navigation systems, strangely without resistance. They’ll auto-land them back into their berth-sets. ETA, six minutes.”
Dori ordered a cadre of security to all three anchorages with Dharmen and Theus added to the force. Monitoring the situation from MC would never satisfy Dharmen, and Theus was the best possible accompaniment against any more rash behavior. Dharmen understood his superior’s purpose perfectly.
They joined the Anchorage Six detail after its cruiser was remotely brought to landing. The port grid’s sensor effectiveness was still spotty; sniffer synths were sent in first to scour the capital ship for its thieves and any hidden surprises they might have laid. The security lead, the very same one who allowed Dharmen and Theus to pursue the last set of stolen ships, ordered his team to stand ready to storm it. He acknowledged Dharmen with a sideways wink through an overfriendly smile, one of too many lately. Dharmen ignored it.
Synths and uprights relayed initial reports, but the host of mobile sensors indicated no life aboard. Dharmen readied for a gun battle anyway. The lead gave the signal, and his people poured into the ship with Dharmen and Theus in-stream. The deck-by-deck search of the vessel took nearly an hour. Dharmen ground his teeth through every minute of it. He had hoped to find someone—anyone—onboard, but sensors had been correct, the cruiser was empty. The same was reported of the other two ships. The team’s last effort was recombing the bridge deck and examining the duty stations’ post-liftoff command entries.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Theus asked.
“That these ships were decoys? Definitely,” Dharmen returned. “All tower-controlled, while the real carriers escaped under full TS.” He went to the helm-right and accessed the conn logs. He wasn’t familiar with the new ship’s instruments, but it didn’t take long to find what he needed: extraneous navigation commands spliced in with the original threads, hiding some portions and replacing others. “Narond’s smarter than I ever gave him credit for. Most of this is irretrievable, but he left just enough behind . . . along with a personal access trigger.” Nice work, Shipman, he thought. Enough to detain you on grounds of treason. That’ll be one down!
The security lead reported new information: the port sensor grid was slowly returning to normal function but with the range limited to Bemin’s immediate vicinity. Dharmen was unsurprised at the rest: other ships—more heavy cruisers—were missing. And at present, four weapons depots in section Delta-56 had been despoiled of their contents, with more compromised stores expected.
Pain splashed across Dharmen’s face.
“You realize there was nothing more we could’ve done, mate,” Theus offered.
Dharmen stood wordless, thinking of the immediate future. He had already begun mentally crafting the report to General Gennet, who would not be pleased at all. But that was the least of the problem. An arms stockpile great enough to outfit a decent-sized army was on its way to Carmogen, likely delivered by two AWOL traitors and any number of minions working for them. Armetrian and Vara were being searched for, and at least one accomplice had been caught. But what was the use? They had already succeeded beyond imagination.
Dharmen roared a litany of curses, kicked a container of scanning equipment across the metal floor plating, and slumped into the helmsman’s seat. He looked around through the sudden silence to find Theus and the rest of the bridge staring wide-eyed at him. Burying his face in his hands, he took stock of the situation. I’ll settle with Narond later, was consideration number one. The next was the hard reality of Dawn Fire’s latest win. And despite every countereffort, Armetrian’s elaborate subterfuge had worked.
9
COURIERS
Are we out of her ship’s sensor range, Cor-GON?
Affirmative, Lieutenant Commander. And all onboard signatures, including my own, are masked as ordered.
Excellent! Vara’s a stealthtech expert, I can’t be too careful. Now, if I can only see the second half of this mission through . . . What’s that signal, Cor-GON? Are you getting that?
I am, sir.
We’re nine thousand kilometers from Angolin. There aren’t even rises, let alone civilizations out here. Who’s sending it?
Unknown, but I can easily determine that. The signal is a hail. Shall I respond?
Negative. Maintain silence. Whoever it is, this is no place for hi-theres.
A year of hard work, and now it’s all falling apart! Estes stood on his live-in terrace staring blankly in the direction of Fifth, his thoughts eating him alive . . . “I can smell your perfume. I know you’re there,” he said softly out into the night.
Coraia stepped out and joined him. “You’ve been far away all evening. You hardly spoke at all through dinner. What’s the matter?”
Life! And it’s burden enough. Do I have to talk too? “Base business, as usual. Nothing to worry your pretty head over.”
“Twenty-five years of marriage to a senior Guardsman has taught me a few things, Eldric. Fifth practically runs itself. Something else is bothering you. What’s the news from our Eastern friends?”
Estes ground his teeth behind closed lips. “There is none. That I know of, anyway. We had regular contact until a few weeks ago, and it’s been quiet since.”
“There’s an entire void between you and your contact, literally. But you established and nurtured the first ever relationship across that distance. Lord Naul must appreciate that.”
“I don’t know what Naul appreciates. He understands results and only results. There were too many failures before this latest weapons lift, and he was angry then.” Estes lifted his eyes to the heavens. Night sky peered back with no solace to give. “I know I promised you, Cori, but our plans are in limbo right now. Armetrian vanishes, and three shiploads of Bemini weapons vanish with him? That was my project to implement—and mine to lose apparently. It’s all finally happening but without me. I’ll admit that for what it is, I have no other choice.”
“Choose patience then,” Coraia said. “What we’re doing is highly delicate. Blood, sweat, and a lot of hours are what power and prestige cost. This isn’t over by a long shot.”
Estes turned, pulled her close, and wrapped his arms around her. “You more than anyone would know, Cori. Your family’s been doing this for ages. How many unsuspecting backs have you all stood on to get ahead?”
“Each and every one that got in our way. You know my answer. But that’s gotten us nowhere lately.”
“Your uncle is the president of Angolin. Doesn’t that mean something for the Prinsen clan? It’s more than anyone in my family has achieved, especially my gods-damned excuse of a father.”
“Your father did gods-damned well enough from what you tell me, though thank Lothnë that your mother took you and escaped him, or your life would be vastly different now,” Coraia said. “But president or not, my uncle is the family outsider. Angolin elected him and forgot the rest of us. Now we’re outshone by one do-gooder who clawed his way up through the Kraal but can’t be bothered to honor his own flesh and blood’s—”
“We can’t worry about that, Cori. We have to think of ourselves. Vieron has us in high-flyer sights now, and this latest situation could expose me. I’ll have to lie low for a while, not that I have much to lie low for at the moment.”
Coraia smiled that smile of hers: pleasant and tranquil on the surface, and hiding calculating thoughts beneath. “You aren’t through yet,” she said. “There’s still a chance to recover this alliance. Armetrian doesn’t have your years of experience; he’ll slip up eventually. Be ready when he does.”
Estes nodded. Coraia’s clear-minded resolve in ever-deepening unseen layers never failed to astonish him. Neither did her beauty. Tonight, she wore that long, shimmering gold dress that made her smooth deep-brown skin all the more stunning, and the moonslight of Kiern and Dasha bathed her in a soft glow, pierced by the sparkle in her dark eyes. He silently undressed her.
“Husband, I’d love to indulge you, but—”
He hushed her with a kiss, moving from her lips down the nape of her neck.
“Please, we mustn’t.”
“Why not, Cori? We used to do it out here all the time.”
“You forget that we’re expecting someone.”
“She’s not here yet!”
“She’s due any minute, and you know we need the information.”
Estes wanted badly to ignore that. But he stopped, gently resting his forehead on hers.
“We’re building a new order for Angolin with us at the center, Eldric,” Coraia said and leaned backward. “A union with the most powerful people on the planet is my family’s only hope. The Hannes will never top us again, and neither will anyone else with the Carmogen behind us. Sex can wait.”
