Queen of Chaos, page 21
part #3 of Sequoyah Series
“You know, I wasn't expecting piñatas or raucous singing, but is this really what high–class criminal parties are like?” Moire whispered. “I've been to livelier wakes.”
Ennis shook his head, brow furrowed. “Maybe it's because he hasn't been in power that long…I don't know. You're right; this is odd. If he hasn't fully consolidated his standing, why hold such a public event and make it obvious? It could also be the weapons ban. They might trust Zandovar but not each other.”
That made more sense. Zandovar hadn't banned all weapons inside; that would have caused a riot. Just powered weapons and guns. She was carrying a knife in her boot and another in an arm sheath, and Ennis was similarly armed. For thugs used to powered weapons, though, they probably felt half–dressed.
Another pearlized server, this time glowing white, walked gracefully by with a tray and offered it to them. It contained many small, irregular pieces each skewered by a clear red spike. Moire selected one and inspected it. It looked like deep–fried cotton swabs. Ennis had taken one that was a solid oblong decorated with random white swirls. He took a bite.
“It's a salty–sweet,” he said, making a face. “Very high–class, but I've never liked them.”
Moire looked at her mystery hors d'oevre and shook her head. “Come on, Gremlin—make yourself useful.” She held it up near the base of her neck, and felt the little nerya shift to inspect it. When she pulled the red spike away, it was completely clean and had tiny toothmarks on it. “Hey, this is working out rather well.”
More people entered the garden and started circulating. It was difficult to keep an eye on how many were present in the strange lighting. None of the faces were familiar to her.
“Let's keep moving,” Moire suggested. Ennis merely nodded. “Alan should have called in by now. I wonder what happened?”
“Got distracted by something shiny?” He shook his head, ruefully. “That wasn't fair. He stays on task when it's important, and he doesn't like it here. He'd get to the ship as fast as he could without drawing attention.”
“Yeah, if what's–her–name didn't bite him.” Moire fiddled with the control bracelet for the captain's earring. She tried calling the ship—no answer. Then she tried Alan's personal commcode. Nothing there either.
“Problems?” Ennis was watching her face intently.
“Maybe. Nobody is answering.”
She tried an on–station code, just for fun. That didn't give a response either, and moving out of the garden conservatory toward the entrance made no difference. Ennis had been fiddling with his ordinary commlink, and the grim expression on his face told her he was seeing the same thing.
“Question is, is he jamming everybody or just us?” Moire murmured in a barely audible tone. More of the pearl–people were about, carrying trays or decorations, and more guests had arrived. “And why?”
“I've seen at least two apparent comm conversations going on. Could be a ploy, but it's a damn complicated one. And if it's just us, that means nothing good. No information gets to us and we can't call for backup.” Ennis scanned the room. “No obvious heavies, and if the servers are carrying any weapons I'd be amazed.”
Despite herself, Moire laughed. “Certainly not very large ones.” She put her arm around Ennis's waist, drawing him closer, and pretended to be whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “We have a little time, then. If we hadn't met up with that woman I wouldn't be trying to call out so soon. They don't know we know yet. Ideas?”
Ennis nuzzled her ear. “Get out. Get information. We don't know the status of the people we brought or the ship. What does Zandovar want, and can we bargain with him?”
“He wants something he knows we won't give, or why bother with all this?”
Ennis frowned. “Then he'd just take it, directly. Maybe he thinks he can pressure you? You're right; it doesn't make sense. Let's see how far it goes,” he said, tilting his head slightly toward the knot of security at the inner entrance door.
They drifted that direction, making innocuous small talk. Moire was unsurprised to see one of the security personnel intercept them well before the doorway.
“Gotta stay once yer in,” he said. He seemed more bored than worried. “Not gonna sweep ya every time ya feels it.”
“Shureit,” Ennis shrugged. “She's waitin' on dim–load, for Zandovar,” he said, indicating Moire with his thumb. “They say coming, then nobody show. It heavy, right? Maybe get handoff your way, gites?”
The security goon narrowed his eyes. “Ain't no takedown. Nobody show offa yourside, no load either.”
“Random, eh? Not here, not you, we just askin' where? No rough—only lookin' check the side, here. We don' go, mebbe you do us standin?” Ennis extended his hand, palm down, and the goon reached out. Moire saw the edge of a credit tab.
“Yeshure,” the goon nodded, giving a greasy smile. “Sa' good.”
Moire and Ennis wandered away again. She hoped her expression was suitably unconcerned.
“What the hell did you just say back there?” Moire whispered when it was safe.
Ennis grinned. “I insinuated that they had intercepted a valuable gift to Zandovar, something you were expecting to be delivered to you by your crew, since it hadn't arrived. I bribed him to go ask our people about it.”
“Cleverly not exposing we know we don't have comms but are expecting something to show up. Besides confirming the fact we are basically prisoners, did we learn anything else?”
“I don't think they know we're supposed to be incommunicado. When I said you had gotten the message the gift was arriving, he didn't even blink. If we're lucky, Menehune will be around when he goes and asks your people.”
“Why?”
The expression in his eyes was hard, focused. She'd only seen that look when a fight was imminent. “We had a discussion about bringing Zandovar something. She was against it. Only his direct clients do that, and we don't want him thinking you want to be one. So, she'll know something is wrong. You know her better than I do; what will she do then?”
“Try to contact me,” Moire said promptly. “When she can't do that, try to contact the ship, and then she'll be certain. Not much she can do to get us out, though, not without a battlegroup. We need communications. I don't suppose you've noticed any commlinks lying about?”
Ennis smiled. “We'll just have to encourage someone to drop one. How are you at being clumsy on cue?”
¤ ¤ ¤
“You're quite sure these won't be detected?” Harrington asked.
Inathka gave him a look of burning scorn. “You thinkin' a puttin' a sign up, maybe? Lookit!” She shoved one of the little devices in his face. It looked damaged and incomplete, with a few scorch marks along one side. “Anybody looksee, gonna say 'oh my, that is certainly a remote sensor' an' try an' fry it?”
“A very creditable imitation of my voice, I must say,” Harrington commented, amused. “Certainly to someone of my limited experience, it looks exactly like a burnt–out component that was never removed for some reason.” He stifled a sigh and removed the door control access plate.
Working with the acerbic Inathka was not a very useful pastime for him. All of the action was on Kulvar station, but there was perhaps a little too much action for his tastes and few opportunities for general research with the midnite going on. Since this wasn't a pleasure cruise, either, he needed to make himself useful. Thus, following around an electronics specialist of dubious legality and being a glorified assistant and minder. Harrington reminded himself that he had, in fact, supported Inathka's plan, so naturally the captain had thought he would make an excellent addition to its implementation. Pity he hadn't realized how deadly dull this good idea would be in action. Fortunately, they were nearly finished.
“How will you know if they work?” Harrington asked before he could stop himself.
“I put 'em in, 'zats how,” Inathka mumbled, her attention focused on getting the device properly positioned and fastened in. She turned her head and glared at him. “I know my doins, ya frik nose! Wanna do it yerself?”
“No, no. Not at all. I'm just—well, let's say I'm a bit paranoid around here. I know you have far more knowledge about this than I do,” he said, holding up his hands to stave off her heated protests. “That's rather my point. I was hoping there was some simple test that would demonstrate to those of limited understanding—that would be me—that everything is working according to design so I can stop worrying?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Gonna wear yer jaw out all that talkifying ya do.” Inathka took out the sensor datapad, muttering under her breath. She tapped quickly on the screen, efficiently setting up data nodes and test signals. Harrington watched over her shoulder, intrigued. Inathka tapped the SCAN/PROBE node. “See? Nothin' but the reg—” She broke off.
Data was streaming fast and furious over the screen of the datapad. Harrington only knew enough to be able to tell that it was a lot of data, and being sent quickly, but what kind?
“Sheeeeet.” Inathka deflated. “Whadido? Looks like a core tap. How'd I hit one a them without knowin'?”
“Can we tell which one it is?”
“Yeahh. Mmm, waitasec…”
The sound of quick footsteps ahead in the corridor made them both look up. Alan was coming toward them, his open face showing agitation. While his weapon wasn't at the ready, it wasn't slung either, and Harrington felt his heart rate speed up.
“Something wrong? I thought you were part of the escort team.”
Alan jerked his head, blinking. “I was, but she sent me back with the people so they stay here. It's Perwaty's family,” he said, waving his hand to indicate it wasn't important. Like many of Alan's explanations, much that was in his head never made it out to the listener.
Harrington filed away his questions for later, since something was clearly bothering the boy and he didn't bother easily. “But she said, let her know when I got here and I tried but the comm says no message and nobody else knows why and Chiya said you know all about comms so can you fix it?”
He held out his comm unit to Inathka, who was still trying to process the rapid flow of speech. She accepted it automatically, glanced at it, then handed it back.
“Uh, justasec. Gotta check this thing first. Um. 'Kay?”
Alan looked distressed, but nodded. Harrington watched with amusement as Inathka carefully stepped around Alan and headed down the corridor. She had never quite figured Alan out, confused by his adult body and youthful behavior despite everyone at some point trying to explain what had happened.
“It's in the main forward hold,” Inathka called back.
“May as well go with her,” Harrington suggested. Alan followed. “Did you say you found Perwaty's family?”
“They kind of found us,” Alan said. “They got the message he sent, I guess. Now she's mad at us because Mom said they have to go to the ship and wait and the girl is crying at the edges of her eyes. I told her Perwaty is all right,” he added, aggrieved.
Inathka already had the door plate off when they got there. “One a' these—inner door, hatch, or hold. Nah, this one's good.” She slapped the plate back and fastened it, then opened the door, heading for the hatch with a grim expression on her face. Harrington didn't blame her. She was good at her work, and this was a flub he would never have expected from her.
Then everything happened very fast. Inathka was halfway to the hatch on the hull of the ship, next to the big cargo door. A glimpse of movement made Harrington glance to the inner wall of the hold, where a few battered storage crates remained. He had only enough time to see the man stand, realize it was not a member of the crew, see the gun in the man's hand, and open his mouth to yell a warning. He heard his own voice at the same time he saw the spreading red spot suddenly appear on her back, then another. There was no sound from the man's gun, and just as he wondered at it the violent, battering boom of Alan's weapon nearly level with his ear made him drop to his knees in pain.
The man was running. Alan's bullets hit him and he jerked, ran two more steps while collapsing, and dropped to the deck.
Harrington scrambled to his feet. His head was still ringing. When he got to her Inathka was writhing and whimpering in pain.
“Don't let him get gone, don't let…” she moaned.
“Alan has taken care of him, rather permanently,” Harrington said, somewhat breathlessly. The hearing in one ear had not fully returned, and he had to turn his head to make out what she was saying. “That fellow is not going anywhere except the morgue.” He did a quick assessment. “I make that three hits; two in the ribs and one in the arm that is barely worth mentioning in comparison. Anything I missed?”
Inathka managed a shaky grin. “You a medtech on side?”
“When you spend as much time as I have with this lot you pick up a great deal of combat medicine without even trying,” Harrington said. He looked around until he located the emergency medkit, on the wall near the comm. “Don't go anywhere, will you?”
Alan was sweeping the hold, even opening the crates with his weapon ready. “It was just him,” he called out. “And I found this.” He held up a thickish, palm–size object.
“Make sure the hatch is locked,” Harrington called back as he ran to the medkit. “We don't need more of that.” He snatched the kit and paused just long enough to do a shipwide alert. “Armed intruder in forward hold! Repeat, armed intruder, forward hold!”
When he got back to Inathka, Alan was standing over the dead man with a puzzled expression on his face. “I saw him before.”
“Really? Where?” Harrington hastily broke out the little packets marked “Bleeding Patch.” It wasn't nearly as good as bloodglue, but it would have to do until they could move Inathka to the med station.
“In the station, when we left to go to the party. He had a cart with reusables. And I saw some of the cart when I came in, too!”
“This has gone beyond a joke,” Harrington muttered. “You have not been able to contact the captain, you say?” Alan shook his head, looking scared.
“Prolly…jamming,” Inathka whispered. “Smeggers planned this…” She struggled to sit up, gasping in pain. “Hey kid, gimmee that.” She pointed at the object he had found near the crates.
“I don't think you should be moving just yet,” Harrington objected. She ignored him.
“Sa scanner…still sending…” She smashed her thumb down on the screen. The data that had been rolling by stopped.
Three of Raven's crew burst through the open door, weapons drawn. “What the hell happened? How'd he get in? The alarm wasn't triggered.”
“I imagine he bypassed the one he knew about. We had just added another that he didn't. Let's get her to medical, shall we?”
Fortunately Raven had recently been upgraded with a very high quality med scanner. Harrington would have preferred an actual medtech, but this was certainly better than nothing. He followed the scanner's directions to inject the repair medium, which was a trifle more discerning about what it stuck to than bloodglue, and found some fluid packs and pain meds.
“I believe you will survive, but you may wish to get a second, trained opinion on the subject. How fortunate your attacker preferred high–velocity projectiles! I really wasn't looking forward to my first surgery.”
“Me neither,” Inathka said faintly.
A handful of the remaining crew had gathered in the corridor outside, watching with worried faces.
“Now what do we do?” Harrington ventured.
Ivar, a cheerful heavy–mech who had probably been left behind because he looked like a farm boy and would have never escaped notice on Kulvar, rubbed his chin. “We got barely enough people to watch all the doors. If they come at us we got a problem. We gotta get a message out somehow.”
“What about the shuttle people?”
“Hangin' low, waiting for us leaving.”
Harrington shook his head. “I meant can we communicate with them? Can they communicate with the station without interference?”
“Shuttle's onna ship–comm proto…procoal,” Inathka said, the pain meds slurring her voice. “Maybe trynta jam, but I can ge'roun…needtha main board t'doit tho.”
Ivar and Harrington exchanged glances. Inathka was badly injured, but no one else knew the communications systems well enough to do anything complicated.
“Right, then. We'll get her up to the bridge, and you fellows keep watch. We'll be in touch.”
Ivar nodded, and the group moved out at a jog. Harrington turned back to Inathka, who was struggling to swing her legs down from the exam table and failing. “Will you stop that? I only just got you patched up. You'll be no use to anyone if you faint from blood loss, you know.”
“Gotta…gotta get t'bridge,” Inathka murmured.
“I can carry you,” Alan said hesitantly.
¤ ¤ ¤
They were starting to run out of hiding places. Not only was the party getting more lively, they both had to avoid the fellow guest Ennis had surreptitiously swapped commlinks with. He'd done it real slick, too; an “accidental” collision, a fallen commlink switched and then helpfully retrieved and returned. Moire just hoped the switch wouldn't be noticed until Raven was in webspace.
“Any luck?” she asked under her breath.
“Ship's still out of reach. I can get to the kiosk but it can't connect further. It's jammed, all right.”
“Better try Menehune. We don't have a lot of time.” Moire fiddled with the control bracelet to look up the commlink code, which the stolen unit wouldn't have. The display was flashing. “Huh. That's weird. What's a remote convo?”
Ennis stared at her. “Usually something like another ship trying to contact your comm network. Anyone we know?”
The display only showed an alphanumeric string that meant nothing to her. Shrugging, Moire activated the connection. “Roberts. Who's this?”
“Oh, thank God.” It was Harrington, sounding distinctly frazzled. She thought she could hear other voices in the background—someone drunkenly cheering, and Alan wanting to talk to her. The connection was bad, with pops and hisses and blips of dead silence.
