" 'If you ain't cheating, you ain't fighting,' " Nugent agreed. "Gear for spaceside and ground. Are we taking them alive?"
"If possible, by all means. If not, we want overkill."
"I'll pack. We can board in an hour."
"An hour it is. Out." Marlow was pretty damned good, but when it came down to it, he was a contract bodyguard. Weilhung was Recon. There was no competition.
CHAPTER 28
Military service is described by the cliché of "months of mindless tedium punctuated by moments of sheer terror." That wasn't always accurate, Horace thought, and wasn't exclusive to the military. The trip out of system was long and tedious, and also sheer terror. He expected to have that stress until they docked in Grainne's system. He dared not take a trank himself. He needed to be fit for his guard watch and for medical support. He couldn't let anyone else touch Bal if there was a medical emergency. That was less an issue of trust than responsibility. If the man died under someone else's care . . .
He hoped they could relax once they arrived at Grainne. Once done, hands shook, they were free to travel as they wished. Colonies were much laxer than either UN nations or protectorates, and Grainne's founding corporation had very a laissez-faire–minded board. Unless the team injured someone insystem, it was unlikely any assets would be put toward tracking them down and extraditing them. That was safety, of a sort, while they screamed for help and backup.
Of course, to get there, they had to go through Sol System unchallenged.
In the meantime, he needed food and sleep.
* * *
It was eight long days of guard duty and boredom, crammed into the tiny stateroom. The announced Jump was a moment of exciting dreariness. Halfway, and no interception. Yet, Alex thought.
And if you wanted added frustration, he thought, Elke was a meter away, behind a translucent door, naked and showering. She was exceptionally professional under the circumstances and made sure she was fully dressed at all times. While it wouldn't have been a problem to walk around naked if necessary, the distraction would have been there, this not being the middle of a fight but still a crucially dangerous situation. The matter hadn't been discussed. She wore clothes, they tried to reciprocate out of courtesy.
"All hands, jump in thirty minutes," came the warning.
Alex dropped down the ladder and entered the cabin, after being relieved by Aramis, who was functional but still shaky. He looked around and pointed at Horace.
"Can you dope us to recover faster from Jump shock?"
"I can inject you with a stimulant that will keep you alert, but it will be rough."
"Rough is good. You, me, Bart. Jason is already there. I want four on watch and ready to react. I wouldn't put it past this captain to try to phase through weirdly so we get shaken up more."
Shaman smirked. "That actually isn't possible, merely a vid trick, but the base concern is legitimate," he said. He pulled out his kit and grabbed four tips. He was already wearing his small kit and pistol.
"Ready," he said.
Back out, and Schlenker was coming out of her cabin, directly across the passage. The vacant one they occupied was close to hers for security reasons. Ironically, that now worked to their advantage.
As they arrived, the crew were clearly surprised and a bit annoyed. That might be at the mistrust or the crowding—there was not a tremendous amount of room available in the small chamber, and four mercs plus four crew meant a large arc of spectators—but it also could be that they'd had something planned. After Alex's punitive fine, the crew seemed to feel the intent was to beat them down to a free ride. Maintaining order while keeping that an unused threat was becoming a problem. At least the crew had the deposit and knew it was honest. There was a bottom limit, though, below which the share of the loot would drop below the normal trip salary these people earned and make them much more eager to dispute the situation.
"Attention all hands, Jump in fifteen minutes!" Gina announced. She looked younger than her decades but certainly had the experience. She'd done a good job on Aramis. She'd agreed to play chess, too. He could see the board without getting too close, the hour or so a day their schedules crossed, and the few minutes of that one of them wasn't occupied.
He could feel the drug kicking in. Shaman had been first, as he always would for such a case, so he could gauge the amount. He very surreptitiously got each of the others in turn, while they rotated around to mask the event. He'd commented once that it was ironic that healthy people with good veins were easier to work on than actual casualties who needed it.
The side effects of the stim were faint nausea, a slight pulse-pounding in the head, and sweats. Luckily, both stress and Jump shock had the same symptoms, so no one noticed as the time ticked down.
"Thirty, correcting, thirty-one, thirty . . ." Gina called off. He let himself be part tourist, watching the maneuver from a great perspective, while keeping the rest of himself alert for trouble.
The few final seconds were tense from anticipation. No one Alex knew had ever claimed to enjoy Jump shock. He let himself go limp, because that worked best for him. Aramis was so stiff he trembled. Before he could examine the others they
Jumped.
Blurry, double-vision, nausea, and a wave of heat and itch from nerves badly abused swept over him, but he was still awake. Most of the crew twitched in their couches. Darwin the engineer was first to recover, looked up as he reached for controls, and got tight-lipped seeing all four hijackers alert and watching him. He slowed his movements and resumed normal operations.
"I need to call and conduct flight ops with Sol Jump Point Four," Gina said, matter-of-factly and very professionally.
"Continue," Jason said. "We want this flight to go well."
"Thank you," she said and keyed her circuit. "Jump Point Control, this is GCS George advising you of our arrival, time attached. The usual courtesy update to Jump Point conditions is attached. Last Salin broadcasts transmitting and updating at one-thousand-to-one rate. Our itinerary continues through to Jump Point Six to Grainne. Live response requested, priority routine, waiting, out."
It was seconds only before a male voice replied, "George, this is Arrival Control, your itinerary and flight path approved, attachments received, thanks for the contact. Stand by for news. Out."
Alex looked at Jason and indicated. With a nod, the man rose and they both headed below.
Once through the hatch, he asked, "Was that commo legit?"
"I have no idea," Jason said, meeting his eyes. "Oh, it sounds legit. I can't imagine they don't update like that. But no, I can't promise you there's no embedded code screaming to come and get us."
"Six more days, right?" Alex asked tiredly. It just never got better.
"Six days."
* * *
Horace didn't mind being crammed into the bed too much. At least it was a bed. Actually, it was quite comfortable. While the quarters were small, the roommates were courteous in the extreme, and quiet. Considering the open sky, bushes, rat-infested thatched cottages, or any number of other places he'd slept, it was choice.
"Four kings. Pay up."
"Christ, I'm dying here," he heard.
He rolled toward the middle, blinked, and looked.
Poker game. Jason, Aramis, Elke, and Bal. They were playing for . . .
"How many is that?" Jason asked, dropping between the bunks into forward leaning rest position.
"One sixty."
"Right."
Push-ups. They were gambling for push-ups in half G.
Despite his complaints, Jason knocked out a hundred sixty push-ups straight through with barely a pause at one-thirty-five. His form was excellent, though he was starting to shake at the end. He wondered how many previous sets had they all done?
He rose, groaning, and Elke dropped. She strained starting around eighty, but she did make it.
Bal said, "I shall not shame you with the attempt. Add it to my tab I still hope to pay."
"Bored, are we?" Ho
race asked.
"Hey, it's something to do, and we get some exercise, and we don't go bugfuck," Aramis said, as Elke just shrugged.
It did make sense, and summed up the situation so perfectly. They were warriors, willing to fight against extreme odds. Sitting in a cell hoping for safety was out of character for them.
"I hope you are not doing push-ups, Aramis?" Horace said while looking over the boy's bandaged side and slung arm.
"I'm doing leg lifts," he said, looking frustrated. "I'll have to recuperate and work back up to push-ups and such." Indeed he would. There was a chunk of flesh missing from his side that was healing up for now and would have to be regrown later. At first it had looked like a scratch, but the damage had been almost deep enough to puncture a lung. It was a good lesson about wounds, not that it was needed with this group.
They were well into Sol System and heading back out. Horace found it ironic to be traveling so close to Earth and not stop. All of them save Jason had looked wistfully out the port, even though they never got close enough for Earth to be more than a dot. Even Jason had taken a glimpse or two, though that might have been just to pass the time.
Horace wasn't clear on the physics of modern space drives. He knew that energetic H-F chemical and certain nuclear-heated engines were used from surface to orbit, and that intrasystem cargo usually used ion drives that were steadily gaining in efficiency. The ships that drove to the Jump Points and through, however, used their energy not as reaction mass, but to travel lines of force in space itself. That process got more efficient further out from gravitational fields such as stars, but took substantial energy to generate the fields needed regardless of where. So once at a good clip, there was no need to boost as they were traveling at a speed appropriate for a Jump and fast enough not to waste much in the way of resources in flight. Much of the trip was in micro G, with only occasional thrust corrections. The ship was spun for centrifugal gravity, so it wasn't as awkward as it had been at times near the Jumps Points.
On the sixth morning ship's time, sitting after waking up, he commented to Elke, "I know we are not more at risk based on distance to Earth, but I feel relieved at being only a few hours out."
Alex sprawled above, ostensibly trying to sleep, though the man was not getting enough and Horace had cut him off from chemical assistance.
"It's normal human reaction," he said. "The unseen is less of a threat, which is actually stupid when you get down to it, but our hindbrains aren't that smart." He didn't open his eyes, which Horace took to mean he really was trying to sleep. He raised a finger to his lips and Elke nodded.
* * *
Bart was on shift with Aramis, and it was hard not to dope off. It had to be harder for Aramis with his injury and drugs. Their attention had to be on the crew, so talking to keep occupied was contraindicated. They could take turns interacting with the crew from a safe distance, but the crew had duties of their own.
Schlenker was matter-of-fact and treated them with a professional contempt. Gina was a little frosty but nice enough. That the team had all been perfect ladies and gentlemen, not offering any impropriety, had to help the situation. Gina seemed very much set on manners. Darwin, ship's engineer, didn't interact with anyone much, sticking to his controls here and below. Third Officer Radaman clearly didn't like them. He was the potential threat to watch.
Bart quivered alert, because the crew were all looking back and forth, agitated themselves and discussing something through their mics.
"What is happening?" he demanded.
Schlenker looked up and said, "We are being challenged by a Space Patrol vessel. What do you want us to do?" She was defiant, dropping the problem in his lap with obvious satisfaction.
"Boss, get up here now," Bart said into his mic. "Please put it on speaker," he said.
She touched a control and he heard, ". . . you are ordered to cut thrust and stand down. This is advice of our intent to perform a safety inspection."
Schlenker eyed Bart, saw that there was no budging, and did nothing yet. Good.
Because Bart also had no idea what to do.
Alex slammed through the hatch, pistol drawn, and put it away as soon as he saw things were still under control.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Heave-to order from Space Patrol," Schlenker informed him.
"What if we don't?"
She sighed. "Potentially, they shoot us, though I doubt they will actually waste a missile but they may beam us and wipe out the electronics. Practically, they'll relay a message on the next ship through with a summons, which I'll have to obey next time I come here. I doubt Grainne will do anything, but I'll be out of business and my investors will have to take a bite."
"That's all?" Alex asked. "Okay, run."
"It'd take a death threat to make me do that, Mister Smith."
"Consider it done." Bart twitched inside, in humor and horror. He'd learned not to call bluff with Alex in poker. Alex didn't bluff. He didn't even pause as he drew his pistol again.
Schlenker, to give her credit, didn't flinch. She sat up in her couch and challenged him.
"Mister Smith," she said, slowly, "I'm aware you can fly without me. I'm hoping you have some kind of common sense to go with your tactical brilliance, and some humanity, too. We're not getting out of this without a fight. I'd prefer not to be in the crossfire, or my crew. If you want to actually hijack us and put us on a boat, Space Patrol can rescue us, and you can have the ship. I hate like hell doing it, but at least I'm absolved of some of the guilt. I can say you overpowered me."
Seconds ticked by as the rest of the team trickled in, in pairs. The silence stretched out.
"GCS George, this is Space Patrol cutter Sark, repeating our instruction to cut boost and stand down for safety inspection." The voice on the far end didn't sound in good humor.
Jason climbed over to a console and grabbed a headset from Gina, who now looked suitably scared, with something like a frigaten outside and armed hijackers inside. She let him take it.
"Sark, this is George, Second Officer speaking. Ironically, we're having a control problem at this moment. I guess we're going to have trouble with the inspection, but we're probably going to be glad you're along. Please give us a moment to bypass some code and wire, and we'll cut boost."
To the eyes on him he said, "Well, we are having a control problem. Who's in charge?"
It was a valid question.
The expressions ran from amusement to annoyance to utter despair. Bart was somewhat amused, but this was too tense for much humor.
Bal stepped forward and said, "Ma'am, let me be honest with you. I'm Balaji Bishwanath."
Schlenker jerked and said, "Wait, I know that name."
"Yes, I was President of Celadon. I shall not go into the machinations here, but these are my contract bodyguard, who decided they would remove me from the mob before I was made to fit a press release. If I can get to Grainne, there is a chance I can get the word out, which will mean a great many ramifications. But I will offer all my assets not spoken for as collateral, which are enough to pay for this ship. I think. Barely."
Bart thought the man was hedging his bet too much. This ship likely cost a substantial chunk of the value of Celadon's entire economy. Not that it was that pricey a ship, but a few million was enough. Nor was there any guarantee of reaching his assets . . . or did he have some stashed in a numbered account?
Schlenker stared at him for long seconds. Finally, she said, "So these nutcases agreed to disobey orders, shoot through a mob, hijack ships, threaten, intimidate, lie to civil authority, stow away, and smuggle you into another system, hoping their asses would be covered at the far end?"
"So it seems."
"You guys are Ripple Creek contractors," she said.
"I guess we have to admit that," Alex said.
"You have a hell of a reputation," she said. Her jaw moved as if she was chewing.
She continued, "And you must be one hell of a man, Mister President, if the
y'll abandon that kind of money to save your ass."
She turned to a console, and said over her shoulder to Jason, "Pilot dude, whatever your name is, you feed them more bullshit. Everyone else grab onto something. This ship is rated for three Gs, but I've never tried more than two and change. Now's the time."
She sat down, fastened a harness, and started fingering controls.
"Because it looks like my only option for keeping my ship. You understand I am not happy about this." Her expression was icy.
Bart said, "None of us are, Captain. I have a list of people who must be spoken to at some point." Oh, yes, he did.
"You speak," she replied, eyes on her screen, jaw tight. "I'll be swinging a bat. Boost in fifteen seconds," she advised.