Battlecruiser Alamo: Not One Step Back (20 page)

 “I won’t waste this. I swear,” he said.

 “Now don’t tell me who you are, and don’t tell anyone about this. That’s your end of the deal. Understand.”

 The man looked at Logan, shaking his head, “I won’t. If you insist. But I’ll remember, and so will my boy.” He looked at the two of them, and turned, drifting back out into the corridor.
 “You think he’ll go?”

 “He damn well better.”

 Harper shook her head, “You’re really a soft touch, you know that.”

 “Don’t tell anyone, I have an image to maintain.” He looked her up and down, “How are you in a spacesuit?”

 The hacker’s face began to match her green hair, “You aren’t serious.”

 “Very serious.” He said, “Look, Boris is right, we can’t just walk into the module and connect up some data cables. That means going outside.”

 “They’ll see us coming,” she said.

 “That might not matter. If you connect up, just start grabbing data as fast as you can.”

 “Where to? If you want me to hold the fort here myself...” Boris said.

 Logan shook his head, “That’s about the one thing that would force them to grab us.” He glanced at the two gunmen, sullenly sitting in their cell. “And get Butch and Sundance here out of hack as well. No, we’ll use your shuttle.”

 “My shuttle?”

 Harper’s eyes widened, “That shuttle’s ancient. It actually makes the equipment here look good.”

 “Thank you very much,” Boris said, reddening. “My shuttle can do anything you need it to do.”

 Shaking her head, Harper said, “If I spend a few hours making some upgrades to the network…”

 “No,” Logan replied. “We need to get moving on this. What equipment do you need?” 

 “Just a high-speed transmitter, a connector jack, and a light electronics toolkit.” 

 “I’ve got the toolkit,” Boris said. “Not sure about the rest of it.”

 Logan smiled, replying, “I think I can help you with the other two items.”

 Harper smiled, “From the same source as the hacker programs?”

 “Oh, yes,” Marshall grinned. “Come on.”

 “What about those two?” Boris said, gesturing at the gunmen.

 “Leave them. We’ll find out if their friends care about them enough to come looking for them, and if they don’t, perhaps they might decide that talking would be their best chance of avoiding,” he grinned at them, “problems in their near future.”

 The two of them looked at each other, but continued to exude the same insolent confidence they had demonstrated since they had regained consciousness. Logan reached into his pockets, fumbling around, and pulled out a small black case, tossing it to Harper, who started to inspect the contents with satisfaction, and then a large holster.

 “Is that what I think it is?” Boris said.

 “What do you think it is?”

 “A plasma pistol.”

 “Nothing wrong with your eyes, Boris.”

 The pilot looked down at the pistol, shaking his head, “You could take out half the station with that thing.”

 “As long as I get to pick which half. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He activated the charging cycle, and stuffed holster and pistol into his pocket. The three of them pushed out down the corridor, heading for the shuttle dock. This time there were a few looks from the crowd that actually bordered on respect, though the usual group was demonstrating expert ineptness in staying on their tail – one of them turning to look at the security office.

 The lock on the hopper was undisturbed, and they went straight in, running a quick check on the ship’s systems in case of sabotage. Logan would still be reluctant to go any distance in it – at least, not without wearing his spacesuit – but it should suffice for the job he wanted it to do. Harper was back at the rear console, inserting a series of data crystals and loading some of her software.

 “Boris, hack into the traffic control and program as if we’re heading for Alamo.” 

 “They’ll work out where we’re going in about ten seconds,” he grumbled. 

 Smiling, Logan replied, “It’s a question of what they’ll expect us to do, now. I don’t want them to think I’m holding them in contempt.”

 “Aren’t you?” Harper said.

 “They shouldn’t know that, though.” With a lurch, the hopper drifted away from the station, Logan using the atmosphere from the lock to push them out as he settled into the pilot’s seat. He knew exactly where he was going, the newest module on the station – Cornucopia’s offices. Carefully, gently, he used the maneuvering thrusters to run them in, gentle taps rather than the full power of the engine. With a pair of smooth burns, he brought the shuttle to station-keeping, a hundred meters away from their goal.

 “Right, let’s get suited up,” Logan said to Harper. He pulled two suits out of the locker, taking the largest for himself and passing the smallest to the hacker. Tugging at the sleeve, he saw the flash of the Titanian Militia, and looked over at Boris.

 “I’m assuming you didn’t pay for these.”

 Shrugging, the pilot replied, “I’d have gotten around to paying someone at some point. Seeing as you’re using them, though…” 

 “At least they’re better than the ones on the station.” He unclipped the life support system at the back and began to struggle into the suit, this one a single unit, and grimaced as his left hand pushed into something slushy. “Did you clean these?”

 “I was going to.”

 “Ugh. Come on, Harper,” he said to the hacker, who was still looking at her suit. “Let’s get on with it.”

 The hacker took a deep sigh, and started to climb into her suit, aided by Boris, while Logan turned on his suit’s systems and pulled the toolkit from a cluttered locker. Plenty of air, enough for more than twenty-four hours, and the suit thrusters were half-full – that should be more than enough. There was even a holster on the side of this one, and he placed his plasma pistol carefully inside, a snug fit.

 He looked back at Harper; Boris was just putting her helmet into place, locking it closed with a thumbs’ up sign, and the two of them walked over to the airlock. Logan went first, cycling through quickly and holding onto the rail outside, looking out over the module, trying to evaluate the possible exit points. Harper seemed to be taking a long time, and when she finally emerged, he turned to remonstrate with her – only to see her panting, her eyes darting back and forth.

 “Easy,” he said, tapping her suit controls, “I’ve added some more oxygen to the mix. It’ll help you breathe.”

 “I. Don’t. Like. Spacesuits,” she said, her breathing slowing.

 “Don’t like them much myself. Let’s get this over with and go home.”

 She nodded, stiff through her suit, and Logan locked his safety line onto her belt before gently tapping his suit thrusters, once, then twice, sending them carefully away from the hull. He’d have rather gone at full speed, but with Harper having problems, he didn’t dare risk it. He could still hear her breathing too rapidly over her communicator, and periodically turned to check on her, before pulling himself back on his course.

 Finally, the two of them hit the module, bouncing off the fabric; but Logan was ready, and snapped a second line into place. He hunted around for the network point, and gestured towards Harper; she nodded, and drifted over to the hull, pulling tools out of her back. They’d done a good job of voiding the warranty on the module; scorch marks all across the access panel, and Harper was having to dig away, trying to find the inner cabling.

 “Come on, how much did you pull out, you bastards,” she muttered under her breath. Then Logan saw a burst of gas from above, and before Harper could say anything, he unclipped himself from her, drifting up to meet their guests. He tapped his communications panel, hunting for their frequency, and pulled his plasma pistol from his pocket.

 “Hello, my friends,” he said.

 Two spacesuited figures had scrambled out of an airlock; he’d managed to catch them before they could prepare themselves, but one quick tap of a thruster would see them spinning out of range. He had no intention of permitting them that option.

 “I know you can hear me, so listen. This gun is fully charged and pointed right at you, and will certainly kill you both. It doesn’t have to be that way; all we want to do is go about our business of...repairing this module.”

 “He won’t do it,” one said to the other.

 “Did you see what he did to Mikky? He will,” the other replied, and they slowly raised their hands.

 “Stay absolutely still. This won’t take long.” He switched frequencies, not taking his eyes from the pair for a second. “Harper, what’s the score?” 

 “I’ve got the connector in, just setting up the antenna now. Got it.”

 “Grab what you can. What’s the security like?”

 “Rudimentary. I guess they must have relied on their physical protection too much. My intrusion software’s already digging into it.”

 “Boris, you getting the feed?”

 “Coming through now. Get on with it.”

 Logan’s gaze was fixed on the two figures, both of them still hovering by the lock. He thought about ordering them back inside, but dismissed it; inside they could try something else, but outside they were rather effective hostages.

 “How long, Harper?”

 “To get the lot? An hour. How long do you want to wait?”

 He looked at the two figures, and shook his head. Though he had no idea how long Sokolov and his lackeys would give him, he didn’t think for a moment that he would just sit in his module for an hour and wait while he committed wide-scale data theft. He was about to ask Harper to try and prioritize her search when he felt a ripple from the hull beneath, and risked a glance.

 Then the universe began to tumble as he felt a blast from underneath him, throwing him away from the surface. As he tumbled, he looked around and saw that the whole side of the module’s outer skin had been burst, the seams all torn and battered. They’d blown out the outer hull just to throw him clear. He looked around the sky for Harper as his suit began to compensate; thinking quickly, he turned off the stabilizer. There were still two people, presumably armed, by the airlock, and sure enough he saw a small pinprick dance past him.

 His sensors began to sound off with collision warning alarms, and he cursed; the station was surrounded with debris fields, and he was heading straight towards one.

 “Harper, where are you?” he yelled. “Harper?” There was no reply, and he kept on scanning the sky, until he finally saw a tumbling figure in the fetal position. Another pinprick danced past him, but it seemed to be for form’s sake rather than any serious attempt to kill him – the debris was going to do that nicely, and would give Cornucopia a nice alibi. If they could find any of his next-of-kin, they’d probably even give them a payout and an apology for the ‘maintenance error’.

 He didn’t have time to change his course, but he did have a chance to head for Harper, and he tapped his thrusters to kick him towards her as the station began to visibly recede. Switching across the frequencies, all he could hear was a faint whimpering; at least she was alive. With only a minute to go, he grabbed onto her, clutching her and locking on his safety line.

 “Harper, do you hear me? Harper?”

 “Go away.”

 “Come on, Harper, snap out of it.”

 Another collision warning sounded, this one imminent, and he braced himself for the end, when the warning abruptly faded and he looked up – to see the hopper drawing up alongside, twisting to turn its airlock to face them.

 “Get in, quick! I’ve got to do a full burn in twenty seconds!” Boris yelled, and Logan quickly fired the last of his thruster fuel, burning it in a series of quick pulses, and planted his palm on the emergency button, tumbling Harper in. It seemed to take an age for the airlock to cycle, and he started to count down the seconds, looking at the sensor display and watching the tumbling wreckage as it drew nearer.

  When the green light came on, he dived inside the airlock, slamming it shut. Boris didn’t bother waiting for him to get inside, slamming him abruptly against the wall as he threw on the short burst of acceleration to get them away. Logan stepped into the cabin, and started to scramble out of his suit.

 “Boris,” he said, “you can fly the hopper in future.”

 “I can fly my own ship,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, boss.”

 “How’s Harper?”

 “I’m fine,” the hacker said, standing in front of a console. She looked up at him, and he imperceptibly nodded; he wouldn’t have wanted to acknowledge a weakness, either.

 “Take us home,” he said to Boris, who dived for his chair before Logan could change his mind. “How much did we get, Harper?”

 “No idea. That explosion killed the feed. I’ve got to run all this through decryption.”

 “Let’s just hope it’s enough.”

 “Damn right,” she replied. “I’m not doing that again.”

Chapter 19

 Marshall looked again at the holographic projection of Kumar, Caine standing next to him. The twelve aerostats were drifting in the upper atmosphere, projected in the view, deeper than Alamo could ever dare go. He shook his head, then turned to her.

 “Let’s see a schematic of the aerostats again.”

 “They’re all different, sir.”

 “The nearest one, then.”

 Nodding, Caine tapped a few buttons on the control panel, and the planet winked out, replaced with a line schematic. There was nothing particularly complicated about the design; a trio of huge gas bags suspended over a large gondola and a scoop, brackets for fueling shuttles to dock and a small module intended for man-tended operation. Not that Marshall would want to spend any time there.

 “This is just what we have in the system, of course,” Caine said. “We can’t get good enough resolution to see what modifications might have been made.”

 “Good place to use as a hideout,” Marshall replied. “Sling half a dozen fighters into those brackets, adapt the scoop to fuel them up, and even a bit of space to stow some small bits of cargo.”

 Reading off a monitor, Caine said, “This model has a maximum capacity of twelve.”