Regulars
among the crew tried frantically to discover the real destination while they
could still jump ship.
Money drew back
all the people Fenaday needed, but they remained skittish about the secrecy and
his vague warnings of extreme hazards ahead.
Of
Sidhe’s
regular crew, only
Fenaday and Shasti knew their destination.
Mandela’s people stayed out of reach in the hotel and none of
Sidhe’s
crew ventured to question
Mmok.
New crewmembers grilled the
old.
The veterans knew nothing—but for
the sake of their pride—pretended to be in the know.
*****
Shasti
finished her stowage check in the LEAF bunkroom and walked toward the
exit.
A few troopers worked on their
personal equipment or lounged about.
She
spotted Gunnar talking with the Morok brothers, Lokashti and Hanshi.
She’d finally forgiven Gunnar for abandoning
a decent chance at a normal life and coming.
She nodded when he waved.
“Commander
Rainhell,” said a voice, “got a minute?”
Shasti
turned to look at a new member of her expeditionary force.
His name popped into her memory, Heaton,
former Confed marine commando.
One of
the last people she’d hired as she ran short of time.
The barrel-chested man leaned closer than he
needed to.
“What?”
she asked.
Something about the scent of
the man bothered her.
“How
about a break?
We’ve been cooped up
shipboard for days.
Why?
What do you say to some liberty?’
“No,”
she replied, annoyed at being asked.
Heaton’s
face darkened.
“Then how about some
break in this bullshit security.
Where
are we going?
Huh?”
“You’ll
be told what you need to know when you need to know.”
“This
ain’t the real fleet, you know,” he said.
“It’s a fucking pirate ship—that’s all.
I don’t need to put up with this crap from you people.”
Shasti
studied him and it clicked, the jittery posture, overly bright eyes and the
scent, adrenaldust.
A common vice among
combat troops, the chemical antidote to fear made dusters fierce but unstable.
She
looked at him without expression.
“Twenty-days double duty,” she said.
“More if you don’t shut up.
And
you’ve had your last dust on this ship, hophead.”
She turned to leave.
“Damn
you, don’t turn your back on me,” Heaton yelled.
He grabbed at her.
Maybe he was reaching for her arm but his
hand closed on her breast instead—hard.
Shasti
spun back and punched.
Heaton flew
backward but not faster than Shasti.
She
followed the fist with a kick, hitting him while he was still in the air.
The man landed flat on his back.
She stood in the center of the bunkroom,
waiting.
Around her, people scrambled to
their feet.
Before anyone could
intervene, Heaton roared and threw himself at her.
She blocked his powerful arms easily,
contemptuously parried a kick then stepped into the big man.
He grappled, relying on his size and
bulk.
She pulled him off the floor and
threw him into a bulkhead.
He clambered
back up, shock on his face, finally realizing that he was up against something
more than human.
She lunged at him,
hands moving almost too fast to see.
In
seconds the fight turned into a beating.
Shasti’s beautiful face stretched taut in a silent snarl.
Heaton collapsed, and she started kicking him
to death.
“Boss,
boss,” Gunnar shouted.
He, Hanshi and
Lokashti rushed up to stop her.
Shasti
flung off all three, but they managed to break her murderous
concentration.
She paused.
Gunnar climbed to his feet, moving between
Shasti and the wreck of Heaton.
“Boss,”
he said.
“It’s me, Johan.
Come on.
Look at me.
It’s Johan.”
Shasti
stared unblinking at him.
“Boss,”
Hanshi called in Morok, “this dung is nothing.
Do not dirty your hands.
My
brother and I will do this for you.”
“I
need no help,” she growled, but the madness receded from her eyes.
“Of
course not,” Gunnar said.
“Of course.”
“No
one touches me like that,” she gritted.
“No one.
Not ever.”
Lokashti
walked over to Heaton and stirred the bleeding man with a foot.
“Certainly not twice,” he said.
“Leave
it to us,” Gunnar said.
She
shook her head.
“Fight’s over,” she replied,
anger vanishing as if never present.
“Call Sickbay.
I’ll report to the
captain.”
“No
need,” said Fenaday from behind them.
He
stood in the hatchway.
“Heard the
donnybrook,” he added.
She
looked down at Heaton, then back at Fenaday.
Fenaday
shrugged.
“There’s always one who seems
to feel the need to test you on each voyage.
We got it out of the way early this time.”
Shasti
nodded stiffly.
She suspected that he
wasn’t pleased with how she’d handled the situation but wouldn’t reproach her
in front of the others.
“I’ll
call Dr. N’deba to the ship,” Fenaday said.
“Gunnar, get a med-tech up here.”
Fenaday
looked at Shasti.
“Are you all right?”
The
question surprised her.
Couldn’t he see
she was unhurt?
“Yes.”
“Good,”
he replied.
“I’ll see you on the bridge
later.
Get this cleaned up.”
He left.
Shasti
looked at Lokashti.
“First aid,” she
said.
“Hanshi,” she added, “get the
newbies to clean the deck.”
She looked
around at the faces in the compartment.
“I won’t be so gentle with the next person who crosses me.”
People nodded or looked away.
No one met her eyes.
She
walked to the hatchway.
No one touches me like that,
she
thought.
Never again, never again, never ever again.
*****
Hours
later Shasti joined Fenaday on the bridge.
She was her usual cool, controlled self.
“N’deba
patched up Heaton,” she said.
“I
arranged with Gandhi to transfer him to a military hospital where he can
recover under wraps until we leave.”
“Good,”
Fenaday replied.
“I understand Hanshi
and Lokashti wanted to cut him up and process him through the waste system.”
Shasti
nodded.
The Toks long ago bestowed a
nom de guerre
on her, ‘Death’s
Angel’.
The name stuck, and Fenaday knew
the Toks would make sure it circulated among the new members, especially the
ASATs.
Shasti never acknowledged it, but
Fenaday suspected it secretly pleased her.
The Olympian Assassin had brought the Morok brothers aboard.
She had saved their lives on Morokat long
before she joined the
Sidhe,
and they
were fanatically loyal to her.
He doubted
there’d be any repetition of the hospitalized spacer’s mistake.
“Did
you call for me, sir?”
Fenaday
turned to see that Daniel Rigg had entered the bridge.
“Yes,” Fenaday replied.
He nodded toward Shasti.
“I’m
going to break your squads into fire teams,” Shasti stated.
“I want to match one of yours with one of
mine to integrate the force.”
Fenaday
expected Sgt. Rigg to protest the dispersion of his ASATs.
He didn’t.
Rigg simply smiled, as if acknowledging the point scored.
He measured both of them with cool, gray
eyes, seemingly unconcerned.
He gave
Shasti a look one reserved for a respected opponent, wary, yet confident.
Fenaday would have been happier if Rigg shot
his mouth off.
“That
will be all for now,” Shasti said.
Rigg
left without a word.
“That
one is no dumb grunt,” Fenaday said.
“Watch him and never turn your back.
He believes he can take you.”
She
nodded.
“He believes it, but he’ll have
to bet his life to find out.”
“I’m
not worried about his life,” Fenaday replied, “there are twenty-four ASATs.
I’ve only got one of you.”
Shasti’s
teeth flashed briefly.
“I like the
odds.”
*****
Shasti
and Fenaday met with Duna for a late dinner at the Marsport Hilton.
Telisan stayed behind in the port office,
straightening out details of the initial flight plan to exit Mars’ congested
orbit.
The evening, like several before
it, turned into a working dinner held in the Enshari’s spacious rooms to avoid
notice.
Shasti perched on the window,
staring up at the top of Marsport dome, as Fenaday and Duna reviewed progress
on the ship, stores and crew.
“I
received this from my Confederation security this morning,” Duna said.
He pressed a switch on the tabletop causing a
large viewscreen on the wall to flick on.
Shasti left her spot at the window to join them.
“Here
is the latest data on Enshar from the Confederate destroyer
Quicksilver
,” Duna began.
“She uploaded the monitoring satellite’s
information about six months ago.”
On
the screen the image of the planet’s night side appeared as seen from the
satellite.
“Not
much has changed,” continued the Enshari.
“At night, less artificial light is seen, as one after another, the
power plants go off-line.
Cities
continue to decay or become infested by wildlife and flora.
Massive fires rage unchecked in some cities
and forests as some untended device made by my people fails, causing
ignition.
Most of the derelict shipping
has sunk.
There is no sign of any
intelligent life.”
“Not
at all encouraging,” Fenaday said.
Enshar had been abstract to him until now.
He felt as if he was looking at his own
gravesite.
“Captain,”
Duna said.
“It’s evident from what my
security tells me that reporters are becoming more suspicious about my
stay.
We’ve used our cover story as best
we can.
The ruse seems to be working for
now.
Should they put two and two
together, as you humans say, with the unusual doings at the port and your ship,
we could have trouble.
Your government’s
aid to me is conditioned on the expedition remaining secret.
I also fear that others, some from only the
best motives, will interfere or seek to cancel our mission.
“There’s
considerable opposition to this trip among your government.
Some feel that I am raising my people’s hopes
only to dash them.
They think our only
hope for survival is to forget our homeworld and fear I may bring on the very
extinction I seek to fight.”
“I
can’t imagine,” Fenaday said, “that Congress would be glad to find out the
government put an eminent scholar into the hands of a privateer under suspicion
of criminal activity and sent him on a suicide mission.”
“Please
stop using that expression,” Duna begged, visibly upset even to the
humans.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to this
voyage if I thought there was not at least some chance.”
Fenaday
shrugged.
“As you wish.”
“I
think the time has come,” Duna added, “to move me to the ship.
I will remain in my cabin until liftoff.
Mandela can arrange a story about my going
off to a university on Earth, or some such cover.”
“Very
well,” Fenaday said.
“Shasti, call ahead
and tell Mmok we are coming in by way of the emergency hatch and to keep the
area clear.”
She
nodded and pulled her pocket com, speaking quickly and quietly into it.
Fenaday could hear Mmok’s voice rasp out
something from the other end.
“It’s
set,” she said, snapping the device closed.
Fenaday
turned back to Duna.
“I am afraid you’ll
have to ride the last couple of hundred yards in a sack.
One sight of an Enshari, and we might have a
half-empty ship.”