The silver fleet the com.., p.105
The Silver Fleet: The Complete Series, page 105
The traps were simple to set up, consisting usually of a tripwire explosive which Barnes could easily hide in the snow. These were designed to maim rather than to kill but others he used were more sophisticated. Barnes’ favourite consisted of a set-up whereby the first soldier unwittingly armed the device simply by passing by thereby priming it to explode when the next soldier approached. Nothing in LaCruz’ experience quite upset a soldier’s psyche like the realisation that their actions had directly led to the death of a teammate.
It would be true to say that the one thing which cheered Barnes and LaCruz more than turning out of the wind, was the sound of an explosion echoing somewhere back down the path. She wasn’t sure what that said about her as a person but, by that stage, she was past caring.
They had been forced to spend the previous night out on the trail with each of them taking it in turns to stand watch. LaCruz had taken the second watch though she hadn’t expected to be able to doze off at all, so it was with some surprise when she opened her eyes that she felt reasonably rested. As a bonus, the sun was just starting to rise, sending warm fingers of pale gold probing across the horizon.
The light seemed to ignite something in the atmosphere, something luminous and transparent which slowly began to fill the whole sky in the same way water might fill a large glass bowl. The light caught the rim of her visor, projecting a rainbow of colours across her field of vision which switched on and off if she inclined her head. She felt her spirits rise at the thought of the sun banishing the cold, even if it was only a few minutes. She needed to think that there was an alternative to the bitter cold they’d been experiencing even if it was destined not to last.
She flexed the muscles of her legs in an attempt to get some feeling back, the cold had robbed her of all sensation in her feet and she was worried that it if she didn’t do something about it, it would only be a matter of time before it became permanent. Her hands still maintained some feeling though, the knuckles swollen and stiff but still serviceable. She heated up some water and took a couple of sips. Her throat was dry. Despite the suit’s best efforts to recycle liquids, she was slowly starting to become dehydrated. Perhaps, if there was time later, they’d be able to melt some of the snow and re-stock their tanks that way.
But there wasn’t time for that now. They were going to have to get moving.
Breakfast would have to wait.
“Okay, Barnes. Up and at ‘em.”
Barnes didn’t move.
He was squatting with his back against the rock wall, looking out over the valley.
“Come on, Marine. Let’s Ride the Thunder!”
Nothing.
Something was wrong. She was struck with the idea that he might somehow have managed to rip open his wound and had simply bled out in the night.
She was on the brink of going over to him to check that he was alright when he held up a hand.
“May as well sit yourself down, LaCruz. We ain’t going nowhere.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, hell,” he pushed himself to his feet. “Best if I show you, I guess.”
So he did.
They’d stopped fifteen metres short of the next corner, neither of them having the energy or the enthusiasm the night before to explore further. But now, as they came around the most extreme point, it became obvious what Barnes was talking about.
The path cut back in on itself before swinging around in a wide arc. If they’d been at sea level they’d be looking out onto a beautiful bay, only they weren’t and it didn’t. It took LaCruz a while to take everything in and pick up on the fact that the far end of the path was missing. It was easy to see where it ended, suggesting that it had broken off in the none too distant past which put a serious question mark over the section of path which remained. It didn’t look stable, in fact it looked like it might come down at any moment. Then again, it might be good for another couple of hundred years.
LaCruz wasn’t discouraged as they started along the path, at least not initially. She was sure they could find a way around the problem, indeed, there was a short trail halfway round which led up to a slightly higher level. It looked to be a little more treacherous than the main path, made up as it was from a combination of loose shale and solid rock but it was certainly worth investigating. It had to go somewhere.
She couldn’t get started up it at first and Barnes had to stand behind her as some kind of metal buffer. He gave her a short push and she was off, pumping her arms and legs in order to keep going but eventually she got there.
“Does it go anywhere?” Barnes said.
“I’m not sure. Seems to end at that wall but I can’t honestly tell.”
“You think there might be a way through?”
For all that she wanted to reply in the affirmative, LaCruz could see nothing which looked like a possible way out of their present predicament. There was a massive black slab lying on its side and directly behind that was a recessed area. It looked like the ideal place for them to shelter for the night - if only they’d found it sooner. Edging past the slab, she found that the path took an acute left-hand turn, almost doubling back on itself before coming to a stop up against a solid wall of black slate.
No tunnels, no quirky caves, no crawlspaces.
Nothing.
“No way through here. It’s not happening.”
“You sure?” he persisted. “Nothing at all?”
“Just a dead end.”
“Well, I guess that just about kills that idea.”
“Just about.”
LaCruz went over and climbed up onto the slab of rock, to give herself a better view of her surroundings.
“What do we do now?” Barnes asked.
“Get creative.”
*
Ardent had never been to the medical team’s coffee shop on the eighth floor before. There were three such shops all told and each one of them was themed in some way. She’d been to the other two at various times but never this one. There was a French one that served cognac and a South American one whose staff were all native Spanish speakers. She liked them both for different reasons.
The one on the eighth floor was set up like a Chicago coffee shop in Chicago, complete with Cubs and Bears memorabilia on the back wall. It had the requisite seating booths all decked out in dark wood veneer. She thought that the designers had got the atmosphere about right, even down to the exposed brickwork on the walls. It felt quite low key: traditional but modern at the same time. Like it had been recently updated by someone who’d lived in the neighbourhood their whole life. They also had a bottomless cup coffee policy which Ardent could appreciate.
It was also a lot quieter than the others which was why, she suspected, Sands had suggested it for their meeting. There was a smattering of medical staff about but they were vastly out-numbered by the off-duty crewmembers.
She took her drink over to a deserted booth at the back and set up camp there.
There were a number of screens spread around the place which she assumed were there for showing sports but today they were taken up with coverage of the unfolding tragedy on the orbital. On one of the screens, Bud Selig was being interviewed about his role in the events. From the look of it, he was being portrayed as the hero of the piece with the emphasis on all the lives he’d saved rather than those that had been lost when he’d been forced to make a run for it.
On one of the other screens they were showing live coverage of the recovery which was almost too depressing to bear. No matter how much they focussed on the efforts being put forth to recover everyone there was no disguising the grim reality of what was happening and in the end she changed seats so that she wouldn’t have to watch any longer.
She saw Sands enter the coffee shop but he didn’t come directly over, instead spending some time at the counter taking his time over his order. He wore a simple white shirt and black trousers, nothing to identify him as a member of the medical team. She caught him glancing at the mirror on the rear wall as he attempted to assess whether there was anyone in there who might recognise him.
Eventually, when he was satisfied, he brought his coffee over. He slid along the bench so that he was sitting with his back to the whole room. She thought this was all very comical but then, if it helped appease him, it would be worth it. He’d seemed anxious when she’d spoken to him earlier and she was keen to allay his fears.
She didn’t say anything straight away, giving him time to get settled. On one of the screens opposite, they were using a robotic arm to recover one of the dead bodies. It wasn’t the clearest picture but there was no mistaking what was going on. She couldn’t help feeling that this was just too intrusive to be shown live.
What if one of their family members were to see this?
It was all too much for Ardent and she resolved to focus on Sands instead.
He began by giving her a breakdown of Faulkner’s medical condition. He’d visited him a few hours ago and was keen to pass on all the relevant information. He told her that there were a number of issues surrounding Faulkner’s recovery. He was suffering from tissue damage which was more often linked to a prolonged bout of cryo-sleep. There were issues with some of his extremities and Sands was clear that if they couldn’t be resolved there was a chance he might lose some of his toes.
There were also issues with his memory, both long and short term. There were whole sections of his military career which he simply couldn’t recall. Sands assured her that some of the memories would come back over time but was more worried about the gaps in his short-term memory.
“He seems to have real difficulty with names, for instance. I see him almost every day and he calls me something different every time . Today he called me Dr Bands. Yesterday, it was Dr Hands. We’ll have to keep an eye on it.”
LaCruz used a napkin to wipe her mouth in an attempt to hide her smile.
That sounded more like the Faulkner she knew.
More worrying were the periods where he seemed completely unresponsive to outside stimuli of any kind. Sands quizzed her on whether she had noticed anything else on her daily visits, particularly any major changes in his mood.
“Was he always quite so abrupt? So bad tempered?”
Ardent confirmed that that had been part of his character but hadn’t dominated his overall mood as much as it seems to do now.
But then he moved the conversation off in a direction she hadn’t anticipated.
“Someone’s ordered an audit of my department.”
Ardent was taking a sip of her coffee. She held eye contact with him while she lowered her cup.
“Is that something which should concern us?”
“I don’t know. It depends on who you’ve been speaking to.”
Ardent didn’t care for the accusation. Wouldn’t have tolerated it under normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal circumstances.
“I haven’t been speaking to anyone. Certainly not about this. Why would I?”
That seemed to be the right response: dutiful outrage. Some of the tension seemed to go out of him.
“It’s just … it’s just a very odd thing to do. An audit of this kind.”
“When we’re on the brink of a major engagement?”
“Exactly.”
“What do you think they’re hoping to find,” she asked, hoping to exploit his privileged knowledge.
“Officially, it’s to verify that all our systems are in place and working properly. That we’re managing our case load effectively.”
“And unofficially?”
“It’s a fishing expedition. They’ve got better things to do than go snooping through our systems. They’re looking for something and I’ve got a good idea what it is.”
“Okay,” she leaned across the table. “So, why are you telling me all this?”
“Because there is a chance that this will turn up,” he looked about him to check that no one was listening, “your friend’s recent operation.”
“Okay, but, surely, he was operated on using an assumed name.”
“I know,” Sands kept squeezing his hands together. “But audits are notorious for turning up all kinds of rogue data. There’s no telling what else they might find.”
“You think one of the nurses might have said something?”
Sands furrowed his brow as though this was an insult aimed squarely at him.
“I’ve worked with these women for years.”
“Might they perhaps have had second thoughts? About the money?”
“They’d have to be complete idiots. Kudos by the way for suggesting that the money be broken up into instalments. They’ve only had the first two payments, so why jeopardise the rest? They’ve already more than incriminated themselves.”
Ardent had organised her fair share of payoffs in the past – that was invariably how the mining business worked - but something about this concerned her. “Are they likely to look into their bank accounts?”
“They could do but they’d need a lot of proof. Also, they’d need authorisation.”
“From who?”
“Well, the captain in the first instance.”
Ardent sat back and plucked at the collar of her blouse.
Why was it so stuffy in here all of a sudden?
“So, if everyone sticks to their stories, we should be alright.”
Sands surveyed the contents of his cup. He had yet to take a sip of his drink.
“I suppose I’m just a little rattled, that’s all. I’m not used to all this covert operations stuff. But one thing did surprise me, though. Still does.”
“And what’s that?”
“The person who’s in charge of all this. They like to bring in someone who doesn’t have a clinical background. To give the impression that everything’s above board, that there’s no sign of a cover-up.”
Ardent nodded. She’d used the same trick herself, almost always when there had been a cover-up.
“So? Who is it?”
“That’s the thing. Commander Farnese, of all people.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was late afternoon by the time they finished. The plan had been for them to take a break at some point so that they could eat something while they discussed tactics, but that had never happened.
Barnes had been tasked with planting the explosives, which pleased him no end. He didn’t have anything like the experience she had with them but she’d been insistent that he do it. Just the sight of the explosives made her come out in a cold sweat. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t think of them without picturing Grimes and there was no room for distractions on this job. They were hard pressed enough as it was.
It was only as it started getting dark that LaCruz allowed herself to relax. It had been a long, physically arduous and stressful day. Not an hour had gone by when at least one of them hadn’t been convinced that their luck had just run out and that the Da’al were about to round the corner. Each time this had happened they’d stop, check their instruments to make sure that they hadn’t been compromised before getting back to the work at hand, only for the tension to start ratcheting up again.
As the sun’s rays began to disappear, LaCruz reconciled herself to the fact that the Da’al wouldn’t be coming after all and that they’d have to be prepared to go through the whole rigmarole the following day.
But then Barnes’ voice had sounded, high and excited over the comms link.
“They’re here.”
“Yeah, Barnes, right. They bring Elvis with ‘em this time?”
“You like Elvis?” Barnes was confounded. “Really?”
“Hundred percent. Everybody loves Elvis. Now, what did you want?”
“Like I said. The Da’al, they’re here.”
LaCruz looked up. In ten minutes it would be almost completely dark.
“What, now?”
“Why would I joke about something like that?”
“I don’t know – cos your momma dropped you on your head?”
“How did you even know about that?”
“I don’t know. Lucky guess, I suppose.”
Both of them started off towards their various positions. LaCruz had to get back up to the raised level and that was going to be a lot more difficult without Barnes to help her but by going on hands and knees she was able to manage it. At the top, she took the opportunity to take one last look at the impassive mountain scene – Barnes was nowhere in sight – and then she went over to hide behind the reinforced slab of rock. Reinforced because she’d spent the day shoring it up with other, smaller chunks of rock.
When they’d run through it earlier, Barnes had stood at the far end of the gap and had insisted that she had to lie down to guarantee that the Da’al wouldn’t be able to see her once they rounded the ridge. LaCruz hadn’t liked the idea of that, if only for the fact that she was fearful that, once she lay down, she wouldn’t be able to get back up again. So, she’d built up the rocks to provide her with some extra cover.
She’d practiced sitting as far back in the recess as possible and been happy with the arrangement but now, with it getting dark, she worried that her suit’s operating lights might conspire to give her away. There was nothing for it but to get her armour to power down. That way, she reasoned, she’d be impossible to spot, ensuring that they retained that vital element of surprise. And she was confident that it would only take a second or two for her suit to fully come back on-line again. But before she did that, she ran through her weapons library one last time so she’d be able to access them seamlessly when called upon to do so. Perhaps, if she’d taken the time to read the manual before leaving the ship she might have been able to save herself a lot of inconvenience.
She’d learned so much about how the suits worked in the past two weeks she figured that if they ever made it home she’d be a shoo-in for a job as an instructor. She took her time powering down, taking care to retain her oxygen supply. The only other thing which she left running was the link surveillance camera which they’d placed at the deepest part of the gap.
