“You want me to start screaming again?”
The guard stood up, a hand on his ear, and raced over to the airlock, leaving the two of them behind. Harriet rose to watch him leave, and Orlova gestured frantically at him.
“Get him, for God’s sake! He’s giving us a free run!”
“But…”
“Details later. Action now. Move!”
Harriet loped across the landscape at a worryingly slow pace, but the guard didn’t seem to be paying her any attention; his focus was elsewhere, and he raced to the airlock with his rifle out in his hands, switching on his scope. For a moment, Orlova thought that he was going to leave the dome without hindrance, but with a few seconds to spare, Harriet caught up to him, and after a split-second of hesitation, slammed into his back, sending him staggering around, his rifle flying to the ground.
He turned around to try and stop her, but she dove after the discarded weapon, her fingers reaching it first by an instant, turning the barrel to point at him. He froze, looking down at her on the ground, then took a step forward, then another.
“Shoot him!” Orlova yelled, cursing her helplessness. Panic and horror danced across Harriet’s face as the man loomed over her, only to fall back onto the ground as the airlock burst open, Talbot racing in with his pistol in his hand, eyes darting around the room.
“Over here!” he yelled behind him, and a pair of troopers began to snap together a stretche
r
while he raced towards Orlova. Harriet was still lying on the ground, the rifle in her hand, looking at the body on the floor.
“About time,” Orlova said with a smile. “What’s the situation?”
“The rest of the squad is outside neutralizing the bunker we picked up, no trouble at all. Turns out overwhelming force works. We’ve got Security forces incoming, so we need to get a move on.”
“Right,” she replied, trying to get to her feet, but he shook his head.
“Not with that leg you don’t,” he said, looking down at her wound, blood staining the bandage. “Let’s get you into one of the trucks, and get the hell out of here.”
The two guards gently put on her suit, taking care with the trousers not to cause any more damage, and placed her onto the stretcher, moving towards the airlock. They drew level with Harriet, her eyes still fixed on the corpse.
“I couldn’t do it,” she said, quietly. “I couldn’t pull the trigger.”
Orlova pushed herself up, reaching out to put a gloved hand on her shoulder, and said, “All that means is that you aren’t a murderer, and that isn’t a bad thing. None of us want to pull the trigger, but sometimes it has to be done. Which doesn’t mean you are the one who must do it. Leave that to us.”
“Come on, lady, get your suit on,” Talbot said. “We’ve got company in thirty minutes.”
Nodding, Harriet pulled herself up from the ground and started to change into her suit, Talbot hurrying her along, passing the pieces to her and helping clip them on. Finally, their helmets locked into position, and they made their way into the airlock, and out onto the surface beyond.
A trio of bodies were lying on the sand, their suits torn and ripped, while another group clustered around the shaft Orlova could just remember climbing down, dropping grenades down it. She shook her head, and her vision swam, as she tried to focus.
“That’s enough,” she rasped. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Leave it,” Talbot said. “Get back to the truck.”
“Still got enemies down there, sir,” the trooper replied.
“I said leave it, Clyde. They aren’t going to come after us. Button it up and we can get the hell out of here.”
“Company coming!” Harper yelled over the communication circuit. “I just picked up a shuttle on descent trajectory, heading for our area. Those UN convoys are getting close as well.”
“Move it!” Talbot yelled, and the troopers reluctantly left their work, hastily moving back to the truck, Orlova carried at the rear. They carried her up to the airlock, taking her through between them, leaving her stretcher to be secured to the roof. Behind them, a couple of her erstwhile captors were emerging, a pair of bullets pinning them down as the truck left the scene, one of the troopers at the controls.
“That took too damn long,” Harper said, moving back into the cabin. “What happened, Maggie?”
“Bullet in the leg. Zigged when I should have zagged. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll let our medic decide that. Take a look at her, Fitz.”
“Never mind that,” Orlova said. “I’ll keep. What’s the situation?”
“The situation is that we have rescued someone who doesn’t know how to rest.”
With a chuckle, Harper said, “I wouldn’t worry about it, Geoff. She isn’t going to sit there and rest while anything is going on.” Turning to her, she said, “We’re a good hour and a half from the Embassy dome, and there are Security forces heading towards us from all directions, with an excellent prospect of intercepting us. Somewhere up above is a shuttle heading our way with God knows what in mind, and this force is divided into two with no prospect of the two halves linking up.”
“This was a rescue mission?”
Shrugging, she said, “We didn’t have time for any of the fine details.”
A voice yelled from the driving compartment, “How close did you say those others were?”
“Half an hour away,” Harper replied. “Last time I looked. Why?”
“I can see people up on the ridge line, less than a mile away.”
“Damn it,” Talbot said. “They must have dropped some of their force off on their way here to block our escape.”
“We could try and get around…,” Harper began.
“No point,” Orlova replied. “Best guess is that they have enough hardware on them to blow this buggy to pieces.” She looked around, and said, “It was a nice try, but this is the end of the road. Trade me for your safety.”
“Not an option,” Harper said.
“That’s an…”
“You’re medically relieved, Maggie,” the hacker said with a smile. Talbot looked up at her, frowning.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Get out of the truck and take them down,” she said.
“No, I forbid it!” Orlova said. “They’re on our side, and probably just think that they are going after dangerous fugitives. If you launch an unprovoked attack on them, all you are doing is giving ammunition to the conspirators. We can’t do that.” She coughed, loud enough to echo around the cabin, and said, “Turn around, try and get away.”
“Ellis, do it,” Talbot yelled to the driver. “Back the way we came, fast as we can.”
“That’ll take us right towards the Security forces, boss.”
“It’ll buy us some time, and that’s what we need right now. What about the other truck?”
“Quite a bit ahead of us now,” Harper said. “They must know which one they want. I’d bet someone in that mob knows exactly what he is doing, no matter what you say, Maggie.”
“Possibly. Can you tell me which one?”
The truck turned in a long, frustratingly slow arc, heading back towards the dome from whence it came. Harper stepped over to a wall console, tapping in commands whose result made her frown.
“Damn, that shuttle’s getting close. It’s going to be on the deck right in front of us in less than two minutes.”
“Evade?” Talbot asked
“What’s the point?” Harper replied. “That thing’s a hell of a lot faster than we are, even just skimming along the ground, and probably armed to boot. Time for a glorious last stand.”
“Surrender,” Orlova said. “That is an order. Look, most of you haven’t done anything wrong, and I can’t see any judge doing anything against you for rescuing a friend from a drug lab.”
Clouds of dust began to rise all around them, rolling across the desert to add to the building storm as the shuttle gently descended to the ground, landing legs sliding into position as it made a perfect landing right in front of the truck.
“Bradley to Orlova, Harper, Talbot. Someone come in, please.”
“Barbara?” Orlova yelled, wincing from the pain in her leg. “Tell me you’re on our side.”
“AWOL to prove it, as well as borrowing some government properly. I’m still the best shuttle jockey on the planet, but there are some of my rivals coming down after me, so let’s get this moving. I can take all of you if we hurry.” She paused for a second, then said, “By which I mean right now! Come on, let’s move!”
Talbot looked at Orlova for a moment, nodded, and said, “Everyone out! Suits on, get to the shuttle!”
The squad hurried to comply, Orlova’s helmet being placed back on and locked down as two of the troopers carried her through the airlock, being careful not to drop her on the ground, gently taking her the hundred yards to the waiting shuttle, its ramp down. The rest of the men moved into position behind her, one of them shepherding Harriet, Harper taking up the rear after lingering for a moment in the driver’s cabin. As she stepped onto the sand, the truck took off, heading back for the base at top speed.
“Autopilot,” she said. “No point making it too easy. Better if Security has someone to chase, or they’ll think it wasn’t worth coming.”
Orlova was placed carefully into one of the couches and strapped down as the others filed in, quickly dumping their equipment onto the floor and getting themselves ready for takeoff. Looking around, she couldn’t help but be frustrated; at the very least, she ought to be sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, but Harper raced forward, sliding into the crash couch.
“Hang on, everyone!”
The engine roared into life, the pilot expertly playing the forward thrusters to tilt it forward, then burst up into the sky with a pulse of acceleration throwing it on a trajectory towards the Embassy dome. A journey that would have taken hours on land would take only a few minutes in the air, though at the cost of showing everyone on the planet where they were and what they were doing. Every tracking station for a thousand miles was doubtlessly watching her every move.
The acceleration ended, and the shuttle seemed to hang in the air as Bradley corrected the course, firing thrusters to swing the end-point of the trajectory into the right place. Through it all, Orlova concentrated on her aching leg; the painkillers were wearing off, and she grimaced as the shuttle completed its course track, the thrusters firing again t
o
slow their descent, the expert pilot not bothering with anything other than the most brute-force approach, sliding down for a vertical landing.
As if they had practiced it a hundred times, the troopers burst from their seats immediately the shuttle came down, and with the journalists outside taking dozens of pictures, being kept well-clear by the threatening posture of the soldiers, she was escorted into the dome. In the background, she could see a police cordon, a few Triplanetary soldiers scattered around, but none of them made a move. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when she was through the airlock, and back on safe territory.
“What happened?” Nelyubov said, waiting for her on the far side.
“Never mind that now,” Talbot replied. “We need to get her to a doctor.”
“That’s the last time you leave the dome,” Nelyubov said, looking at Orlova. “Just as your picture was beginning to fade out of the newscasts, you get yourself shot up like that. Heaven knows what sort of a story the press will put together.”
“I’m glad to see you too,” Orlova said, gasping for breath. “I think I might stay here for a while at that.”
A gurney appeared at the top side of the corridor, a man wearing a medical uniform pushing it, and the two troopers carrying her gratefully laid her down upon it as the doctor began to connect up pain relief, wiring her up to the monitors. Bradley stepped in, looking around the corridor.
“I guess this is where I claim asylum? You can keep the shuttle, Harper’s setting it up so that no-one else can use it right now.”
“I’ll have a word with the Ambassador, but I think we can arrange it,” Nelyubov said. “Glad you
're
with us.”
“I finally got bored with the bullshit in Flight School, and being interrogated on three consecutive days was the last straw,” she replied. “They all thought I was working for you anyway, so I figured I’d make it official. Not that I’m staying, though. I want passage out of here.”
“Where are you going?”
“Spitfire Station. I want to meet Alamo when it arrives. I’m rather curious to see how my husband’s doing.”
Chapter 15
Three weeks of training, watching the stars, and
endless
card games in the barracks. Three long weeks as Alamo made its way home, traveling faster than anyone could have imagined a century ago, yet still too slowly for Cooper’s liking. He paced through the empty corridors, following their twists and turns, hardly seeing a soul. The quarters deck ought to have been full of people at this time of the night, most of the crew off-watch, but with the ship managing on a skeleton crew, everyone had huddled together for emotional warmth in the other compartments.
He glanced down at his watch, and frowned. They’d be at Spitfire Station soon, the last step in the journey before they reached home. The last two systems had been empty, just as expected. No-one was going to send garrisons out there just on the off chance, but Spitfire was turning into a major strategic strong-point; once sufficient bodies had gone through the training program, there’d be a full company stationed there
– g
arrison duty, more mind-numbing tedium.
“Ensign Cooper, report to the bridge,” his communicator barked unheralded.
“On my way,” he replied, then said, “Sergeant Forrest, Lance-Sergeant Fuller, report to the shuttle deck with the platoon on the double, non-lethal tactical load-out.”
He jogged to the elevator, stepping in and tapping out a priority override to take him up to the bridge. Even after the last couple of months, it still felt strange to be someone the Captain would summon personally; there was still quite a bit of the rookie Private deep inside him, astonished by the path his career had taken.
The doors opened, and he stepped out onto the command deck, looking around the stations at the now-familiar officers. Captain Marshall at the heart of everything, naturally, and Caine standing at Tactical, Ryder, Steele, Weitzman, Spinelli
–
the usual alpha-team on duty ready to face whatever awaited them.