Accord of Honor (18 page)

Kel led the way down the dark hall, red flashes still lighting our way. The building was ten stories tall, and we were in the eighth floor. The locker was on the ninth.

I hoped the enemy was still on the tenth.

We went up the stairs single file. Kel led the way, because she was armed. If we ran into the enemy, I was useless without a weapon. The stairway was dark and quiet. Our shoes sounded loud on the steps as we climbed to the next floor. But we arrived without incident. Now for the tricky part.

Kel nudged the door open slowly, just a bit. Enough that we could peek down the hallway ahead. The dim emergency lighting casting red shadows across the hall. I peered through the cracked door, but try as I might I couldn't see any signs of movement. I gave Kel a nod.

She pushed the door open, leading with her gun as she stepped off the stairwell. It was only about fifteen feet to the arms room. It looked like we might make it after all.

I’d spoken too soon. A doorway about halfway down the hall opened and men rushed out. They were coming down the stairs from the floor above. They flowed into the hall, moving together with a precision born from long hours of practice. Even an amateur like me could see in an instant that these people were professionals.

We were more than outgunned – we were thoroughly outclassed.

"Move!" I shouted.

I ran the last two steps to the arms room and slapped the thumbprint scanned. It flashed green and the door popped open. We all but dove behind the heavy steel door as gunfire blazed down the hall. Bullets hammered the other side of the door like a heavy rain. I pulled it closed behind us. We were safe – for the moment, anyway.

Sam was yelling at me in my ear radio. "Are you guys all right?"

I touched the earpiece to activate the mike. "Yes, we're fine. But we’re pinned down in the ninth floor arms room."

"I have security on the way right now," he said. "Just hang on!"

I wasn't sure we had time. The men outside couldn’t open the door easily – they would need my thumb for that. But they seemed like they knew what they were doing, which meant they probably had the supplies with them to blow any locked doors they ran into. This room wasn’t designed to resist explosives – it was just a lockable storage room before we took over the building and repurposed it as an arms locker. They were coming in after us and it wouldn’t take them long. I scanned the racks to see if there was something that might help us survive an extra minute or two. An answer immediately presented itself. I scooped up a handful a fist sized cylinders.

"Do you even know how to use those?" Kel asked.

I grinned at her. "Pull pin, throw at enemy."

How hard could it be, right?

I pulled the pin from the first grenade, opened the door a crack and tossed it out. A moment later there was a flash of light and a boom that I could feel through the door. I grabbed two more and tossed them out too.

More booms.

"Just need to keep their heads down heads down for a few more minutes," I said.

"Grenades should do it," Kel said. She was strapping on body armor.

I had to admit her method was probably safer than mine. I rolled out another grenade anyway.

Another explosion.

By this time, I figured that I either had the bad guys pinned down, or very mad at me. Maybe a little bit of both. But I was running low on grenades.

"Where are those men?" I asked into my radio.

Out in the hall, I could hear the enemy troops moving again. I was down to my last grenade, and we were pretty much out of time. I picked up the last grenade and made ready to toss it out. The others have been gray – this one was red. I didn't have enough time to ponder the significance. I just pulled the pin and tossed the thing out into the hall as hard as I could. Gunfire pinged against the door. I yanked my arm back inside and slammed the door shut.

And then the grenade exploded.

It turned out that red grenades are high explosive. They were a little different from the ‘flash bangs’ that I’d been throwing before. Like, roughly ten times as powerful. The first few grenades I threw were like really big firecrackers. The last one was more like a stick of dynamite. A really big stick of dynamite. The force of the blast picked me up off the floor and rattled my teeth. My ears were ringing. I felt dazed, confused.

“What happened?” I asked. But I couldn't hear my own voice.

Kel was saying something. I couldn't hear her, either. She fell to the floor when the explosion went off and was picking herself back up.

More gunfire rattled by outside. Even though I couldn't hear it, I could feel the impact the bullets made when they slammed into the walls or floors. I leaned hard against the door, hoping to keep anyone from opening it, but it sounded like there was quite a fight outside – our security finally showing up to take out the enemy troops.

My hearing began to return.

"You idiot!" Kel said. But she was laughing when she said it, which sort of took the sting away. "Couldn’t tell an explosive grenade apart from other ones?" she asked.

"Obviously not." I said, groaning from the headache. "Somehow, I missed that part of the space captain’s handbook.”

We both laughed.

Kel tossed a chunk of body armor at me. I caught it, fumbled and almost dropped it, but managed to hang on.

"Get dressed," she said.

I started getting suited up. Just because most of the bad guys were dead, didn't mean they all were. And I was way past thinking we'd worn out our welcome here on Earth. It was time to get out of here. I strapped on the last chunks of body armor, pulling the straps tight with hard jerks. Yes, I was angry. I'd been born on this planet. I'd risked my life to save the people here. And then this?

"Thomas," crackled Sam's voice in my earpiece.

"Go," I replied.

"Just got word from our eye in the sky." That would be James, using the ships's cameras to keep an eye on things from space. "Three military grade airships just dropped in on the prison they moved your Dad to earlier."

The Mars embassy was in ruins. They'd failed to take us out here, but not for lack of trying. I had to assume that those airships were a third prong in their assault. They were after Clarke. And me. And my father.

"Sam, get the shuttle ready to go," I said.

"Already done. We're ready to take off soon as you're aboard."

I grabbed one of the assault rifles from the rack and a handful of magazines. Kel was already armed. "Ready?" I asked.

She brought her rifle to her shoulder and aimed it at the door.

"Fire teams, Thomas Stein here. Exiting the arms locker on the ninth floor," I said into my radio. No sense getting shot by my own people.

"Copy, Mr. Stein. We have two men outside your door who will escort you clear of the building."

"Good. I'll need..." I thought a second. Three military airships might mean up to three squads of troops. I couldn't take that many on the shuttle, but I could grab a squad. "One squad of men to go with me. Volunteers only. Tell them it might be a while before we can get them home."

"Understood, sir," the voice replied.

I opened the door. Two shapes dressed in black flanked the doorway on either side. They were armed and alert, covering the hallway in both directions. Looking down the hall, I got my first real glimpse at the devastation my grenade had wreaked. Small fires guttered on the floor and ceiling and bits of shrapnel had done blast damage up and down the hall.

I'd been lucky on the timing of my throw. The enemy must have been rushing the door when I tossed it out. Five bodies lay on the floor, all of them showing signs of having been too close to the explosion. I couldn't tell for sure in the dim light, but it looked like a couple of them also had bullet wounds. So the explosion hadn't killed them all outright - some had been taken down by one of our security teams after they were wounded.

"Sir," one of the shadows next to me said, "We need to get you out of here. The building is not secure, sir."

I took that as my cue to stop gawking and move. One of the men led the way. Kel and I followed close behind, and the other shadow followed. We took the stairs, spiraling down and away from the fighting at a quick walk. Behind us, I could hear a couple of loud bangs and the chatter of weapons firing. It galled me to turn and run. But time was wasting, and if I was right every second counted for my Dad.

The guy ahead of us opened the door that led outside and stepped out, leading with his rifle. I followed right behind him. He made it only a few steps toward the shuttle before he jerked back like he'd been slapped. He fell backwards onto the grass and stared up at me with a ruined face, a gaping hole yawning wide where his cheek and eye had been.

I dropped to the ground just in time. More bullets whizzed by over my head. I tried to see where the shots were coming from. There! Muzzle flashes, over by those trees. I brought my rifle up and returned fire.

The shuttle started humming, and the ramp lowered. Four men ran down the ramp, firing into the night. One of them had something a little bigger than a rifle – a small rocket streaked toward the enemy position and exploded near them.

"Come on, sir!" one of them shouted. The security man behind me was already up, heaving me up from the ground by the back of my armor. I landed more or less on my feet and sprinted for the shuttle.

Kel and I pounded up the ramp, which started closing as soon as we were on it. I could feel the engines thrumming beneath my feet, building more power.

"We're aboard, Sam. Get us the hell out of here!" I said into my radio.

The shuttle blasted into the sky.

S
omething was up
. I could feel it. I hadn’t been returned to the cell I’d occupied before. Instead, they flew me out to a new prison, outside the city. The airship landed and I was rushed into a wing that looked damned abandoned. I mean, I knew Shaunesey was putting a lot of importance on my capture and trial – but from what I was seeing, he’d somehow cleaned out an entire wing of a maximum security prison just for me. The expense and effort was insane.

The guards who tossed me in the cell refused to speak in front of me, but they practically vibrated with tension. Something had changed. Had my son done something stupid? Maybe Shaunesey was worried about a last-minute rescue operation. And he might not be wrong to worry – even I was concerned. It was the sort of thing Thomas might try. I didn’t want him to throw his life away trying to save me. It wasn’t worth it. If they executed me, as it seemed likely they would, I needed someone to carry on for me. Those enemy ships still had a secret base out there somewhere. And the massive funding for their operation had to have come from a backer on Earth. I needed Thomas free. But how could I communicate that with him? I couldn’t speak with him, hadn’t had a moment alone with him since I’d left the ship to surrender myself.

So I sat on my cot, hoping Thomas would play things smart, and wondering what was going on that had everyone so worried. They let me sit and stew for a few hours, but then I heard the clang of doors opening down the hall, one security barrier after the next opening. Someone was coming my way.

“Sit on your bunk, and stay away from the door,” called a voice from the hallway. I was already sitting on my bunk, on the far side of the small cell from the door, so I simply stayed put.

My immobility must have satisfied the guard. The door buzzed, and opened inward. A guard came into the room, followed closely by Shaunesey and an Asian man I didn’t recognize. My eyebrows shot up. This was unexpected.

“Leave us,” Shaunesey told the guard.

“Sir, I don’t think...” the man replied.

“I said leave us!” Shaunesey roared. His face went from calm to red with anger in a heartbeat. The man was barely keeping himself under control.

The guard ducked his head and fled. Smart man. I wished I could do the same.

Shaunesey nodded to the man he’d brought in with him. “Have you met my vice president?” he asked.

“I haven’t had the privilege,” I replied.

“Choi Fan-Lei, meet Nicholas Stein,” Shaunesey said.

“Pleased,” Choi replied in a soft voice.

I took stock of this stranger. He moved with the grace of a martial artist. His face seemed young – except for his eyes, which looked much older. I couldn’t peg his age very well. He was dressed in an immaculate black silk suit, with a white shirt and thin white tie. He stood almost completely still, and every motion he made looked prepared, planned.

“To what do I owe the honor?” I asked.

“That damned judge isn’t going to have you executed, thanks to Clarke’s meddling. That’s forced my hand tonight, damn him,” Shaunesey said. “So the good governor’s met with an accident already. Your son probably has by now as well. And now it’s your turn.”

He drew a pistol from his coat pocket.

I stood up, lifting my eyes from the pistol to his face. These might be my last few breaths, but I was damned if I was going to sit down for them. I had to know what he was talking about. “What have you done to Thomas?” I asked.

Shaunesey looked down at his watch, then back up at me. “Should be about done by now,” he said. “Choi, call and check, will you?”

Choi pulled a phone from his coat, pressed a button. He said a few words that I couldn’t make out. Then he listened for a moment, and returned the phone to his pocket.

“He’s escaped in a shuttle. We’re tracking its flight path, but it looks like the Stein boy is headed for his ships in orbit,” Choi said. “Our men report that Governor Clarke was with him, not at the embassy.”

“Damn it!” Shaunesey shouted. “How the hell did they escape?”

My heart soared. Thomas was in the clear. No matter what happened to me, he was away. Once he was within range of covering fire from our ships, there was nothing on Earth that could take him out.

“So, Patrick," I asked. “Was it you behind the whole thing? I’d never have thought it of you.”

“Me?” Shaunesey said he leveled the gun straight at my chest. I had never seen a barrel look wider. “It's you. Always you. You killed my wife, and they gave you a medal for it. I’m not letting you do it again.”

Patrick and I had a very long history. Sometimes, it felt like Patrick Shaunesey was my penance for the crimes of my past. And they had been crimes. I was angry when China blew the Lunar base apart. They killed tens of thousands. People I knew and cared about had died there.

But nothing they did gave me the right to kill a billion of their people in return. Since that day, I’d been torn between the grim certainty that a soldier needs to perform his duty and horrified regret I had not found a better way.

I'd researched Patrick after he began dogging me back in those early days. He was a good man – as politicians went anyway. He had been a solid and stalwart representative of his people – at least until the nuclear explosions I set off over Beijing killed his wife, who was there on a diplomatic mission.

I could say I was sorry until the stars died, but nothing I said would ever make a damned bit of difference. Nothing I said would ever bring her back. And no forgiveness he gave would ever make up for all of those other lives.

“Maybe it's best this way,” I said. I opened my hands at my sides. “Do what you think is right, Patrick. That’s what I did.”

I saw him falter a little bit as I said those last words. Because deep down, the one thing Patrick Shaunesey wanted least was to be like me. Choi must've seen it as well. Even as the barrel of Patrick's weapon dipped, Choi sprang into action. His arm slashed down, striking Shaunesey's quadricep. Patrick had just enough time to look at Choi, say “What the hell?”.

Then he collapsed to the ground, quivering and gasping for air.

Choi stood over his body, a hypodermic needle in his hand, smiling like a malevolent spider.

“I trust you will forgive me a bit of theater, Admiral?” Choi asked. “Because some theater will be required here. To tell the story right, you understand.”

I started to move toward him, but before I could take a step he knelt and picked up Shaunesey’s weapon from where it clattered to the ground when he fell. Choi rose smoothly back to his feet. He had a very steady hand, and the barrel was aimed directly between my eyes. I stopped moving.

“And what will this theater involve?” I asked.

I figured it would do no harm to keep talking, and someone might stumble along. Playing for time gave him time to make a mistake. Why had he attacked Shaunesey? My gut suddenly screamed that the man standing in front of me was the source of all of our recent troubles. The pirates, the attacks... Everything spilled from this man's designs. If that was the case, I probably wasn't going to live much longer. But I found myself more amused than sad. I'd certainly thrown a wrench in his plans. And I'd be leaving behind a son that I was fairly sure could take up my place, and a Mars that was willing to stand up for itself. They were worse ways to go.

“You attacked the president. Your long-standing animosity will make the story believable,” Choi said. “The president was armed, pulled his gun, shot you – but had already suffered a heart attack, which will prove fatal before help could arrive.”

I looked down at Shaunesey, gasping for breath on the floor. “The injection?” I asked.

“Will never be detected,” Choi said.

I took a deep breath, measuring the distance between us. I’d seen the man move. There was no way that I could close the gap before he got off a shot. At this range, he couldn’t miss, and one shot was probably all he would need. Something deep inside me relaxed. This was all about to be over at last. Choi would shoot, I’d die, and the long run would be over. I was curious about something, though.

“If I’m about to die here, answer me a question first?”

Choi tilted his head sideways a bit. He didn’t nod assent. But he hadn’t shot me yet, either.

“I’m betting it was you behind the so-called pirates. Why?”

He seemed lost in thought for a moment. I could see his discipline warring with his desire for recognition. I was one of the only people alive that he could afford to brag to, after all. First, because I’d been his opponent – and he wanted me to know, the way a chess player would call out ‘mate in three moves’ to an opponent.

Second, because he was going to kill me anyway.

“For control,” he said. “Because Mars is the source of energy, and therefore power. Which meant that control will inevitably migrate away from Earth – away from the billions here – to Mars, unless it is controlled.”

“Which you can’t do without armed ships,” I said.

“Precisely. And as president of the United Nations, I will oversee the construction of a fleet of ships to defend our interests in space.”

“To consolidate your power.”

“Yes,” he said. “And now, regretfully, you must die.”

He took aim.

But before he could pull the trigger, we heard gunshots from somewhere else in the prison. He jumped at the noise and turned back toward the open door behind him. During that moment of distraction, Shaunesey gave a loud grunt and kicked out hard. His foot connected with Choi’s knee. That was my moment, and I took it. I rushed him.

Choi wobbled, but didn’t fall. He saw me moving and fired. I felt the flash of pain as the bullet entered my side. I’d been shot before. I knew I could keep going at least another few seconds. My fist connected with Choi’s jaw, the crack loud as a whip snapping. He dropped the pistol and it clattered to the floor. I hammered two more blows into his midsection before the pain caught up with me. I was too slow to stop his counterattack – he jabbed out with the fingertips of his left hand, stabbing into my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

I kicked him hard in the chest, trying to get some distance, a moment to get my breath back. All his breath went out with a rush. Choi backed away from me, cautiously. He wiped blood from his mouth, and seemed shocked when he saw the red on his hand.

“No matter. You die anyway,” he said. He took the phone from his pocket and said something in Chinese into the device. My Chinese was rusty, so I only caught one word: bomb. Then he backed out of the room and slammed the door shut.

I sagged to my knees, eyes tight shut, hand over the spot just under my ribs where the bullet had gone in. I knew I was bleeding, and the pain was starting to settle in. I gritted my teeth, fighting to stay sharp.

I opened my eyes. In my pain and shock, I’d forgotten about the gun.

Shaunesey hadn’t.

He was holding it. He wasn’t looking well. He’d gone from red-faced to utterly pale. I didn’t know how the man was hanging on. The pain of the heart attack must have been excruciating.

“If you hate me that much, have done with it,” I said, panting. “I’m tired of staring into the barrel of that pistol.”

For a second, it looked like he might. Then he lowered the weapon. His hand relaxed and the gun slipped from his fingers.

“Nah,” he said. “I still hate you, Stein. You took everything from me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He shuddered. His eyes closed a moment, then opened again. “I don’t care if you’re sorry.”

“Then why?” I asked.

“Because I love Earth more than I hate you,” he said. “Stop him.”

Then he died.