The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (43 page)

The
raider suddenly cast aside his hostage and began to run, making no
attempt to shoot. Barber swore as she started after him. His gun
had been empty the whole time; he had been bluffing. And Barber had
been doing just the same thing. Neither of them had found the time
to reload their weapons and neither wanted to give the other the
advantage.

Barber
broke into a run to catch up with the raider, who was once again
darting and skipping over people. He was not heading in any
specific direction, but zig-zagging once more. Barber saw him
fumbling around in his coat and assumed he was trying to buy
himself some time as he searched for an energy capsule to recharge
his laser pistol. With the huge scatters of people and baggage,
coupled with the urgency of the raider to reload his gun, Barber
could see it would not be long before he came undone.

* * *

As
Sullivan leapt over a bag, his foot became caught within an
exposed, unturned strap, the sudden and unexpected additional
weight causing him to topple forward and crash to the ground. His
laser pistol and the energy cap he had only just managed to pull
from his coat clattered and skidded along the floor ahead of him,
far out of reach. He thrashed his foot around in a vain attempt to
free himself, not wanting to take his eyes off his gun, though the
struggling did him no good. He looked around at the problem, and
his hands flew towards the straps that were curled around his
ankle. His coat was equipped with a knife, built into one sleeve,
and with a quick flick of his wrist it shot free and into his hand.
It was exceptionally sharp, and with just a few slashes he managed
to cut away the straps.

Free
once more, he leapt to his feet, just in time to see his pursuer
descending upon him. There was a bang; she had wasted no time in
shooting him square in the chest. Sullivan grunted as the bullet
slammed into him, but despite the searing pain he still had a lot
of fight left in him. He responded to her attack by driving his
knife into her own chest.

“
Yeah?! See how you like it, bitch!” he spat. The woman cried
out in pain, but even before she had time to act Sullivan gripped
her tight about the shoulder, withdrew the knife and plunged it
twice more into her. Just as he prepared to strike for the third
time, he heard several bangs and the remainder of his attacker’s
clip tore into his belly. He struggled to breathe, but could draw
no air into his lungs. He held fast to his knife, even as his
vision blurred.

* * *

The
raider sagged, his grip on Barber loosening as he fell to the
floor. Barber could feel her own legs beginning to give way and she
fought to control herself. As the raider lay dead on the floor
before her, she rummaged through his clothes. She prayed that he
had the data card with him, rather than having left it in his
craft. In her current state she wouldn’t even be able to make it to
the docking ports, let alone break into his ship. She coughed as
she continued her hasty search, tasting blood in her mouth, seeing
it splatter over the man and feeling it run down her
chin.

Relief
washed over her as her fingers encountered a thin piece of plastic
which, once removed, revealed itself to be just what she had been
looking for: a tiny, thin blue card, bearing the Confederation
insignia. Her head began to feel light and she sat down on the
floor with a heavy thump, using one hand to prop herself up and
keep from tipping over completely. There was very little time to
act. She knew what she had to do and, reaching into her jacket, she
removed a packet containing a tiny capsule and a small bottle of
liquid. Breaking open the packet, she placed the data card into the
capsule and sealed it tight. She coughed some more, feeling the
blood fill her mouth again and the taste of iron with it. She spat
it from her mouth, as well as the rest that wanted to
follow.

It took
her some time and considerable effort for her to achieve what she
had planned for the card, but eventually she succeeded. Drawing
heavy, staggered breaths, but confident that the plans were now in
a safe place, she lay back. She was going to die. She found her
breath coming shorter with each passing moment. The raider’s knife
must have punctured a lung.

She noticed that some of the more inquisitive witnesses to
the scene were inching forward to investigate the man and woman who
had fallen down together in a pool of blood, following their very
violent encounter. She met another woman
’
s eyes and saw them filled with
pity.

“
I hope you
’
re luckier than I was,” she
whispered. But in her heart she doubted that. There was a good
chance that she was the lucky one here. Running would not save
these people any more than fighting would. They were only
prolonging the inevitable. Eventually they would not be able to run
any further; although she could not blame them for trying. And when
they were caught, that would be it. Prisoners would not be taken,
lives would not be spared.

Barber
’
s
vision became cloudy and the woman closed her eyes, letting the
darkness take her.

XIX

—
An Uncomfortable Revelation —

O
ver time, the grey form of Arlos
loomed steadily larger as the ATAFs hurtled towards it, hidden from
all but the most diligent observer beneath the veil of the
starfighter
’
s
cloaking device. Owing to the direction of their approach, the
starport was obscured from the
White
Knights
behind the far side of Arlos; and
as he rounded the dull planet, Dodds expected to see a flurry of
activity from their dodecahedral-shaped destination.

Contrary to his expectation, the starport was quiet and
appeared to be all but abandoned. The normal glow of lights and
other illuminations that would have welcomed travels were absent,
the port
’
s
lifelessness echoing that of the rest of the star system. He got
the feeling that the port wished to convey the impression that it
had been out of use for quite some time, its previous residents
having upped and left many years ago.

It was the second time in almost as many days that
Dodds
’
destination had presented him with a cold and dead demeanour,
and it was a theme that was starting to become all too common. The
only indication that the port was not as dead and lifeless as it
would have had one believe was the presence of a solitary cargo
vessel resting near by; though it too was shrouded in
darkness.

“
Think anyone
’
s home?” Dodds asked of his
companions as they came closer to their destination.

“
Looks abandoned,” Enrique said. “Either that or our friend
has been busy here, too.”

“
Estelle, are we in the right place?” Dodds said with genuine
uncertainty.

“
These are the coordinates that Commodore Parks gave us,”
Estelle said.

Dodds’
eyes flickered over the surface of the port. Under normal
circumstances, a starport would be a hive of activity, its presence
advertised far and wide by the constant flow of traffic to and from
it. Mining vessels, transport ships of various shapes and sizes
would be docked in and around the port, dropping off passengers,
cargo and spoils. Even without the heavy flow of traffic, the port
could be spotted from a long way off, the bright multicoloured
lights guiding people home. All that was gone now, cold, uninviting
grey steel the only thing remaining to greet visitors.

“
I’ve just scanned for a possible means of
entry,” came Chaz’s voice. “But it appears all docking ports have
been sealed. Looks like we
’
re going to have to find another
way inside.”

“
We
’
ll have to use an airlock,” Estelle
said. “Which means we
’
ll have to leave the ATAFs outside the port.”

“
We
’
re just going to leave them
floating here?” Dodds said.

“
We don
’
t have much choice in the matter.
As Commodore Parks instructed, we
’
ll keep them cloaked whilst we
retrieve the data from the agent.”

“
Sure. And then we’ll just fumble about in
empty space looking for them when we come back out,” Dodds said
sarcastically. He could see no clear avenue to how they were
supposed to get back into the ATAFs once they had left them. Since
they were invisible, the
White
Knights
would have to grasp around in the
starfighter
’
s
general area and try and feel their way back in the cockpit. But
that could take hours, maybe even days. Maybe even longer. Dodds
hoped that they would not be in a hurry. Taking any sort of mobile
sensor device with them was not an option, either. Whilst the
ATAFs
’
radars
themselves displayed the positions of the other fighters, cloaked
or not, they were not removable from the craft.

“
We
’
ll have to turn the cloak off…”
Dodds began.

“
No
,
Dodds,” Estelle said. “We were given very specific orders by
Commodore Parks not to deactivate the cloak for any
reason.”

Dodds said nothing else on the subject, sensing that Estelle
was still upset after being chewed out by the commodore, despite
averting
Operation Menelaus
from becoming one of the greatest naval
catastrophes in recent history.

“
One of us will have to remain out here, then,” Enrique
said.

“
No-one is staying out here alone,” Estelle said. “I want
everyone to be where I can see them.”

“
We
’
ll have to find some way of
returning to the ATAFs once we leave them, then,” Enrique
responded. “Otherwise we might never find them again.”

“
If we leave them next to that freighter
it’ll be a lot easier to locate them,” Kelly chirped up.
“We
’
ll
have a better point of reference.”

“
That
’
s a good idea, Kelly,” Estelle
said. “Okay people, let
’
s form a line close to the
freighter and disembark. Once you
’
re out, make your way over to
me.”

The
others acknowledged her order and guided the ATAFs close to the
freighter, watching their radars and HUD so as not to collide with
one another.

Bringing his ATAF to a stop, Dodds informed the others he was
disembarking.
He reached under the
fighter
’
s seat
and pulled out a small propulsion pack that resided beneath. The
pack was a standard feature of all the CSN’s starfighters, though
it was only of any real use to the pilot during events such as
ejections. Dodds had received training in the usage and general
application of the pack, but he had never found the need to use it,
himself.
Ensuring his helmet and flight
suit were securely set up and fastened, he opened the canopy. He
unbuckled himself from his seat and, taking a good grip of his
propulsion pack, let himself drift out into the vacuum.

His flight suit was well insulated against the cold of outer
space and upon leaving the ATAF he experienced nothing more than
the sensation of free movement within the vacuum.
Dodds started slipping his propulsion pack onto
his back and, looking around,
saw Enrique
making his way from his own ATAF. It was a bizarre sight to behold:
from the middle of nowhere a helmet emerged, followed by shoulders,
a body, legs, and then feet. It was as if a magical door had opened
and his friend had just slipped out of it. His pack on, he watched
as the others left their ATAFs, before Estelle
’
s voice sounded in his
helmet
’
s
speaker.

“
Over this way, people,” she requested,
raising her hand. She was waiting a little further up the side of
the freighter and the
Knights
began to make their way over
to her.

“
We
’
ll make our way to the port and
look for an airlock, so we can get inside,” Estelle informed her
team, once everyone had made it over. “Follow my lead.”

* * *

As she
moved further away from the freighter, Kelly took a look back.
During their approach, Kelly had stared at the vessel, very certain
that she had seen it before; or perhaps the blow to her head was
making her see things again. She had then scanned the ship with her
ATAF’s targeting systems and the resulting readouts had once again
made her question her own sanity. Given the lack of comment from
her wingmates, the others had not noticed what she had.