The Prison in Antares (12 page)

“Yes.”

“Hopefully that's all you'll have to do.” He turned to Ortega. “Felix, go up and down the aisle and kill any guards or prison warders who are in their compartments.”

“Right!” said Ortega, walking to the compartment's door.

“And Felix?” continued Pretorius.

“Yeah?”

“Silently.”

Ortega nodded and crept out into the corridor as the door closed behind him.

“Okay,” said Snake. “When Felix returns we walk down there and Proto enters the cell and orders them out, and they obey him and we kill them as they leave. Then what? We're all in a prison cell speeding away from a ship at ninety miles an hour on a planet we're at war with.”

“You forgot to mention that we don't have any food or water,” said Pretorius with a smile.

“You've got to have some notion of how we're getting off this damned train,” she continued. “How'd you like to share it with us?”

“This particular route has only been used by this one prison train since Pandora's been tracking them,” answered Pretorius. “Once we've got our hands on Nmumba, we'll go up front and do whatever's required to reverse course. The odds of running into another vehicle on this route are minimal.”

“Uh . . . avoiding another train is the
easy
part,” said Snake. “What about the rest of it?”

Pretorius pulled another tiny cube out of a different pocket. “This one's programmed to tell the driver or engineer or whatever the hell he is that he can reverse course or die.” He paused. “Now, just between you and me, the likelihood is that this thing hasn't
got
a driver, but once we get to the control room or whatever it's called, we'll have Pandora take control of it from the ship.”

“I've got a question,” said Irish.

“What is it?”

“If Pandora can take control of this thing from the ship, why didn't you have her do it immediately?”

“Because we want Nmumba alive,” said Pretorius. “What do you think would happen to him the second the vehicle came to a stop and started reversing course with no announcement to that effect from a higher-up that they trust?”

She nodded her head. “I hadn't thought of that,” she admitted. “I'm new to this. I'll learn.”

“I'm sure you will.”

They waited in silence for almost five minutes, and finally Ortega crept into the compartment.

“All dead?” asked Pretorius.

“All of 'em on this side of the aisle. You didn't want me going into the cell side, right?”

“Right,” agreed Pretorius. “I guess we're ready. Proto, sixth cell on the left. I'll knock for you, since you don't actually have any hands. They'll spot you and open the door. Step in, give your three or four words, and if they buy it, step aside and let them walk out. We'll be waiting for them.” He turned to Snake. “How many were there?”

“Four that I saw, but there could be more.”

“That could be a problem,” said Pretorius. “By the time the fourth has left the cell, they'll know who or what's out here. If any of them shout a warning, whoever's left inside will probably try to kill Nmumba.”

“Leave it to me,” said Snake.

They turned to her questioningly.

“You walk in to take one or two of them out, they'll see you and kill Nmumba instantly. But I'm so small to start with, if I slide in on my belly with my burner in my hand, I can probably get two or three quick shots off before they even know I'm there.”

Pretorius nodded. “Okay, it's worth a try.” He looked around. “Any other questions?”

They were silent.

“Then let's get this show on the road. Proto, lead the way.”

They walked quietly down the aisle, until they came to the sixth door on the left. Pretorius reached out and pounded his fist against it.

It irised a moment later and Proto stepped through.

“Attention!” commanded the voice he had hidden on his person.

Six Antareans stood at attention, and Proto stared arrogantly at each in turn. Then he placed his hand to his mouth, as if rubbing it, and issued the command: “Leave us!”

The Antareans seemed confused. They didn't respond aggressively, but they simply didn't respond at all.

“Leave us!” came the command again, as Proto's image glared at them.

Three of the Antareans saluted and walked out the door. Ortega made short work of them, but not short enough, because one of them screamed. Even as the sound left his lips Snake was sliding across the floor. Her first shot melted the eye of a fourth Antarean, who collapsed while she was firing at the fifth. The sixth got his weapon out, but before he could take aim and fire, Pretorius nailed him with his screecher, and he collapsed before the onslaught of solid sound.

“Thank goodness!” said a voice off in a corner, and they turned to see an emaciated and badly bruised Edgar Nmumba sitting on the edge of a cot, staring at them. “I'd given up all hope.”

“Irish, get him on his feet and stick with him,” ordered Pretorius. “Felix, drag those bodies in here. The damned aisle can't stay empty forever. Sooner or later someone's got to walk down it—from the engine, from some room that was locked, from some other cell. Snake, pick up all their weapons, then melt any you don't want keep.”

“Right,” she said, gathering the weapons while Ortega gathered the bodies.

“Proto, you might as well keep that identity until we're out of here. It won't register on the security cameras, but if we run into any more Antareans between here and the control room, an officer is a handy thing to have.”

Nmumba's eyes widened as he started at Proto. “You mean you're
not
—?”

“No,” answered Proto.

“Amazing!” said Nmumba weakly.

“Not half as amazing as what you've accomplished,” said Pretorius, “and what you're going to continue to accomplish as soon as we get you home.”

“I'm just grateful that you've saved me from those . . . barbarians!” said Nmumba.

“I've heard 'em called a lot of things,” replied Pretorius, “but ‘barbarian' isn't one of them. After all, they invented the Q bomb.”

“You don't have to live in the dirt and wear rags to have the ethics of a barbarian,” said Nmumba.

Pretorius nodded. “True enough. How are you coming on those bodies, Felix?”

“One to go.”

“Okay, get him in here and we'll be on our way.”

“Home?” asked Nmumba.

“Eventually,” said Pretorius. “First we have to get off this damned train and get back to our ship.” He looked around. “Everybody ready?”

There was a general murmuring of assents.

“Okay. Snake, you didn't get any farther than the next two cells, right?”

“Right.”

“Then since we don't know what's ahead, we'll let Proto lead. Felix, take up the rear in case anyone comes up behind us. Irish, there aren't enough of us to surround you and Nmumba, but try to keep at least one of us in front of you and one behind you, whatever the situation. Let's go.”

They walked down the aisle, past eight more compartments—soldiers' quarters that matched the ones they'd already passed—on the right, and a solid wall on the left.

“What's in there, do you suppose?” asked Irish. Indicating the wall.

“Who knows?” said Pretorius. “Storage. Power plant for this and half a dozen other trains. Hard to guess with aliens.”

“I wish I could help you,” said Nmumba, “but I haven't been out of my prison car, or cell, or whatever you wish to call it, since I was brought aboard.”

“That's all right, sir,” said Pretorius. “It's not that vital.”
I hope.

“Please call me Edgar. ‘Sir' is too formal—” a weak smile “—especially for a man who's been in the same prison outfit for weeks. Actually, the one thing I know
isn't
behind that wall is a laundry.”

Pretorius smiled. “We'll give you a full day just to lounge in a bathtub when we get back to the Democracy, Edgar.”

“I'm sure I can use it,” replied Nmumba.

“Coming up to it,” announced Snake as they came to a door that blocked the aisle.

“Okay,” said Pretorius. “Same routine as last time. Use the recording to bring 'em to attention and then tell 'em to leave—always assuming there's anyone there to give orders to.”

“Right,” acknowledged Proto.

“Felix, you and Snake take care of anyone who walks out of there. Irish, hang back with Edgar until this is over.”

She nodded and led Nmumba back down the aisle as Pretorius pushed against the door. It irised, just like the last one, and Proto entered—and found himself facing three members of a race he'd never seen before.

Shit! thought Pretorius, ducking back out of sight behind Proto. They're not Antareans! Will they even understand him? And then: Wait a minute. If they're on this train, of course they will.

They jumped to attention at Proto's command, and he gestured that there was something out in the aisle he wanted them to see. Pretorius positioned himself to the side of the doorway, and after two of them had stepped out he quickly walked through and dispatched the third one with his screecher while Ortega and Snake quickly and efficiently killed the other two.

“Damn!” muttered Pretorius a moment later. “I can't make heads or tails of this control panel.” He looked around. “That thing's got to be a communication device.” He began fiddling with it until Pandora's voice came through loud and clear.

“Will you please stop changing the frequency every five seconds?”

“Gladly,” said Pretorius.

“How is it going?”

“We've got Nmumba, and we're in the control room, but I don't know how the hell to bring this thing to a stop and reverse course.”

“Stay on that frequency and let our computer tie into the train's,” she said.

“I won't touch a thing.”

A moment later they could feel the vehicle start to slow down, and shortly thereafter it came to a stop.

“Now you want to go back to where you boarded it, right?”

“Right,” said Pretorius. “But if you stop there, if we just abandon it while we get onto our sleds, someone's going to know something's very wrong even sooner than they should. Can you slow it even more that it normally slows at that corner, give us time to get safely off, and then reverse course again? Maybe double the speed for half an hour or so until it gets to where it's supposed to be at that time, then let it go at its normal speed until someone notices that it's not stopping or speeding up or responding?”

“I can do that,” she answered. “But they might notice sooner, Nate. I mean, if I can track it from up here, surely they can track it.”

“Yeah, but they'll try to communicate with it before they come looking to see what's wrong, and we can be off the damned thing in twenty or thirty minutes, and up to the ship in ten more. Once we're out of the system, we don't give a damn what they find.”

“Okay,” she replied as he felt the vehicle picking up speed as it raced to the point where they had first encountered it.

The rest of the ride constituted the only uneventful few minutes they'd spent since landing, and shortly after exiting the vehicle they were on their sled, streaking through the stratosphere to rendezvous with their ship.

17

“Where to?” asked Pandora when they were all back aboard.

“I don't imagine our ship is still available,” replied Pretorius. “I think we'll just head back into the Democracy. We'll signal them when we're still in neutral territory so they know not to fire at us.”

“Will they believe you?” asked Nmumba.

Pretorius smiled. “Hell, no.
I
wouldn't. But they won't shoot if we don't give them any reason to. They'll surround us, and either board us or escort us to the nearest base, with their weapons trained on us all the way. Once we're landed, or at least in orbit, they'll satisfy themselves that we're who we say we are, and hopefully they'll supply us with a better ship than this to go the rest of the way and report to Cooper.”

“Cooper?”

“General Wilbur Cooper,” said Pretorius. “Our boss. The reason you're off that train.”

“Ah!” said Nmumba. “I owe him an enormous debt of gratitude. How can I ever repay him?”

“You've already repaid him about a billion times over,” said Ortega.

“I just did what any citizen would do,” replied Nmumba.

Pretorius shook his head. “You did what no other citizen could do. That's why the Transkei Coalition grabbed you.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Pandora. “But am I taking the quickest route or the safest?”

“We've already got our man,” answered Pretorius. “Might as well go the quickest. Worst comes to worst and they blow us apart, they can't get what they want from him.” He turned to Nmumba, who suddenly looked nervous. “Don't worry about it, Edgar. They have no reason to attack an Antarean ship, which is what this is.” He chuckled. “We're actually in more danger once we reach the Democracy if we can't pick up a neutral or Democracy ship along the way.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Nmumba. “I'm sorry if I seem like a wide-eyed kid, but this is all new to me.”

“Never served in the military?” asked Snake.

“I was a civilian scientist attached to one of the labs back on Deluros VIII,” he replied. “I had military credentials, of course, but I didn't wear a uniform.”

“Hell, you can go to work naked for all I give a damn,” said Snake, “as long as you keep destroying Q bombs.”

“It took me three years to come up with an effective method for spotting, tracking, and disabling them.” He allowed himself the luxury of a smile. “Thank God I don't have to reinvent it each time!”