In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) (24 page)

With one arm limp by his side, he threw a
surprisingly well aimed punch. I dodged with ultra-reflexed speed, more worried
about the growing number of eyes on us than my opponent’s teched-up fist. Before
he realized it, I was beside him, kicking out his knee and breaking his jaw
with an elbow that sent him flying into the table where his shipmates sat. All
around him, angry Drakes jumped to their feet, hurling women off their laps and
scattering their drinks, murderously intent on settling the score.

“Get him!” one of the Drakes growled through
gritted teeth as I pulled the stun grenade from my pocket.

“Not today,” I said, rolling one of Armin’s
Armaments finest toys their way.

The gang peered through intoxicated eyes at the
silver metal sphere skating across the deck toward them, at first confused then
with growing alarm. I turned and ran, barging between two inebriated Drakes who
moved to block my escape, then pressed my hands to my ears and squeezed my eyes
shut as the G-Max Sensory Assault Grenade detonated. I saw the flash through
closed eyes, heard shocked screams through shielded ears, while the two brutes
who’d tried to stop me took the worst of it. Even though I’d reached the edge
of the effect zone, my ears still rang and spots danced before my eyes. I managed
to keep my feet and stumble away from the plaza, now full of cursing, angry
Drakes with vengeance on their minds.

Everyone near the G-Max was down, while anyone
standing on the far side of the plaza was looking my way, including a tall,
dark skinned man with an ugly plasma scar. For a moment, our eyes met and recognition
flashed in Gwandoya’s eyes, then I turned and ran as every Drake standing came charging
after me.

I knocked people aside, dodged through empty spaces
and evaded drunken attempts to block my escape while heavy footsteps and belligerent
voices sounded behind me. As I neared the end of the plaza, I darted into a
crowded bar, then slipped quietly out a side entrance and hid in a narrow
service passageway behind a stinking garbage processor. Moments later, a herd
of Drakes stampeded past, demanding to know where I’d gone. I waited out of
sight for a long time, letting the chase peter out, occasionally stealing
glimpses of my pursuers as they filtered back in ones and twos. When it was all
over, I moved calmly through bars and brothels and back passageways, staying
out of sight until I reached the main corridor leading back to the
Merak
Star’s
berth. After ensuring no one was still searching for me, I hurried
to the airlock and pulled myself through the leaky pressure tube to the freighter.

Izin was waiting for me when I cycled back in. “They’re
demolishing the bulkheads between the cargo holds,” he said.

“Who are?”

“Drake thrusterbots. They’ve already removed the
plating between holds one and two. Now they’re breaking into hold three.”

“Why?”

“To make room for the cargo,” Izin replied.
“They’re bringing it over now.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“Can you get to the Lining without them seeing
you?”

“I can use the maintenance crawlway below the
cargo deck. ”

“Get ready to power up, but only if they start
cutting into hold four. As soon as you go hot, the Drakes will detect you.”

“Captain, there are over a hundred neutrino
emitting energy cores within twenty clicks of the ship. The Drakes are unlikely
to notice one more this close to the station.”

I hadn’t thought of that. With the Drake fleet
right on top of us, the
Silver Lining
could hide in plain sight. “You’re
right, but keep her idling until you need to power up.”

While Izin made his way back to the
Silver Lining
,
I went up to the bridge. Jase was watching thrusterbots on three screens
demolish the
Merak Star’s
interior with laser torches, while an aging
ore transporter standing off our spaceward side filled the fourth screen. She
was equipped with a single cargo door that ran almost her full length and opened
toward us as a dozen thrusterbots glided into her long dark hold. The light
from their thrusters showed hints of a streamlined structure inside, then they towed
a long gray shape out of the ship’s hold. It was vaguely tower-like with a round
base, a long inward sloping body and eight curved arms at the top shaped like
the folded petals of a flower bud. Each arm ended in a blackened point, while a
short silver needle extended from the apex of the body, pointing toward the heart
of the bud. Stains from long exposure to cosmic radiation covered every part of
its skin, suggesting great age.

“Ever seen anything like that before?” Jase asked
as thrusterbots eased the alien-tech tower toward us.

I was slow in answering, waiting for my threading to
complete a pattern match. Eventually, OBJECT UNKNOWN flashed into my mind.

“Nope,” I replied at last.

A small, blunt nosed drop ship emerged from the
transport’s cargo hold and followed the tower at a distance. Once the alien-tech
structure and the drop ship were clear, thrusterbots converged on the old ore
carrier and began towing her away, not trusting such a decrepit vessel to
maneuver under her own power so close to the station.

“Get me Anya,” I said, climbing onto the command
couch.

When her face appeared on screen, I said, “What
are you doing to my ship?”

“Making room for your cargo.”

“What is my cargo?”

She stiffened, suppressing irritation. “That’s not
your concern.”

“I disagree, considering you’re wrecking my ship
to make room for it!”

“No critical systems will be affected.”

“Then what? You leave me with a ship in pieces?
How am I supposed to explain that?”

“After this delivery, the Merak Star will no
longer be required. Now stay off this channel until further orders,” she snapped,
cutting the signal.

Jase scowled. “Not very helpful, is she?”

“She doesn’t know what it is.” That was what really
annoyed her. Anya was a Drake navigator, used to knowing things even her
captain didn’t, yet this time she was as much in the dark as we were. “Triangulate
how long that thing is. We need to warn Izin if they’re going to cut into hold
four.”

Jase routed the optical feed into the processing
core and got an immediate answer. “They can squeeze it diagonally into three
holds.”

The thrusterbots halted the alien-tech structure close
to the ship, waiting for the demolition of the interior bulkheads to be completed.
Once the forward three cargo holds were joined, they threaded the tower in through
hold one while the drop ship came in via cargo door three. When they’d both
settled on the deck, I locked them down with deck clamps, then Anya’s face
appeared on screen.

“Seal and pressurize your cargo deck,” she said,
then vanished.

Jase carried out her instructions, then a dozen
men in armored fighting suits exited the drop ship. Using a combination of
impressive zero-g acrobatics and suit thrusters, they approached and destroyed
every optical sensor in the forward three holds with their armored fists rather
than risk puncturing the hull with their high powered suppressors.

“Too late,” Jase said. “We’ve already seen their toy.”

“Unless that’s not all there is to see.”

An Orie accented voice sounded in the bridge
without any visual feed. “Transfer magclamp control to deck panels.”

Jase gave me a quizzical look.

“Do it.”

With a shrug, he gave our guests local control of
the deck locking system, then I secure linked to Izin in the
Silver Lining
.
“Izin, there’s a bunch of guys in fighting suits in the cargo holds forward of
you. You’re about to have company.”

“I’ll be ready, Captain.” Izin didn’t need to
elaborate. The first Orie merc to set foot in the aft cargo hold wouldn’t live
long enough to warn the others, even if he was wearing an armored fighting suit.

“If they find the Lining,” I said to Jase, “get
back there fast and get out with Izin.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find out why they blinded us.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Skipper.”

“You may have no choice,” I said, then went down
to the cargo deck and zero-g.

When the elevator door slid open, I heard the hollow
click of armored magboots echoing through the passages, signaling at least one
guard was patrolling in a fighting suit. There was no sign of him, so I floated
silently along the corridor, past the cargo hold’s main pressure door to a
small emergency access hatch on the starboard side. The safety lock indicated
the cargo deck was now fully pressurized, so I eased the half height hatch open
a little. The lights were dimmed and the base of the alien-tech tower partly obscured
the hatchway from the rest of the deck. Way over in hold three, Orie mercs
wearing gray and black shadow fatigues had climbed out of their fighting suits
and were maglocking them to the deck in front of the drop ship. The suit’s
clamshell torsos were cracked open down the side as they stood with parade
ground precision in a straight line. As each fighting suit was locked down, its
operator floated into the drop ship, returning moments later wearing a JAG-40 and
a utility belt. Once armed, they returned to their fighting suits and began
field stripping and cleaning them.

I was about to move in for a closer look at the
tower when Domar Trask emerged from the drop ship with Stina Kron and Julkka
Olen, all wearing shadow fatigues. They kicked off from the drop ship and glided
in a line through the three cargo holds to the forward bulkhead’s pressure
door. Before they got too close, I pulled my hatch back, leaving only a crack to
watch them through. Trask rolled expertly, landing his boots on the bulkhead,
then pulled the hatch open for Kron and Olen to glide through without stopping.
Once they were clear, he somersaulted boots first after them, pulling the door
closed behind him, as comfortable in microgravity as any man I’d seen.

Once Trask and his two lieutenants were gone, I slipped
into the cargo hold and floated through the shadows to the tower’s circular
base. It was flat except for a small lip around the outer edge and three squat cylindrical
silver legs evenly spaced halfway in. A narrow shaft at the center ran up through
the middle of the tower, quickly disappearing into darkness. I touched the
silver legs curiously, finding them extremely cold. The threaded contact sensors
in my fingertips measured the heat drain and flashed an immediate warning.

HYPERCONDUCTIVE METAL, TYPE UNKNOWN.

Whatever it was, it shed heat faster than any
known substance while the material surrounding the legs was comfortably warm, giving
my contact sensors another mystery to solve with equally disappointing results.

SUPERINSULATIVE MATERIAL, TYPE UNKNOWN.

Whatever the tower’s purpose, it was built to handle
high energy with great efficiency.

Soft footfalls sounded close, so quiet I hadn’t
noticed them approach. Whoever he was, the tower had hidden him from my sniffer.
The footsteps weren’t the metal click of magboots, but the soft scraping of civilian
gripshoes. When he was close, a panel door unlocked in the tower’s side followed
by the muffled clatter of precision instruments. I guessed he was an engineer or
a scientist, not a grunt, making him an easy target for abduction and
questioning. And with the Orie mercs way over on the far side of hold three, I could
take him down without being seen.

Using the superconductive legs as anchors, I
pulled myself to the edge of the tower’s base and listened to the scientist working
nearby, oblivious of my presence. I stole a glance around the edge, finding an
open gray maintenance door obstructed my view of him. Only the edge of his back
was visible, clothed in a dark green coverall.

Beyond the access panel, the trunk of the tower hid
us from the Ories. With growing confidence, I eased myself forward, preparing
to swing around the panel door, disable him with a paralyzing blow and drag him
to the galley storeroom for a private conversation.

The scientist finished his task, straightening as
he prepared to close the maintenance panel. I tensed, about to launch myself at
him when I realized something was wrong. There was a fluidity in his back as he
straightened that didn’t seem right. There were too many joints and it curved
in an unnatural way. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as an
unusually thin –
inhuman
– hand wrapped long, skinny fingers around the door’s
edge. I pushed myself back as the alien hand closed the panel door, revealing dark
penetrating eyes and a long triangular reptilian head.

A Mataron head!

I dragged myself back toward the center of the tower
– heart pounding! – listening for any sign he’d seen me. Tools clicked as he carefully
returned them to his kit, oblivious to my presence, then his gripshoes scuffed
the deck as thin reptilian fingers wrapped around the side of the tower. He was
headed my way!

Pushing down on one of the superconductors, I launched
myself away from the deck as the Mataron ambled around the base of the tower.
Just as his fingers dropped, I caught the protruding lip of the tower base and
cart wheeled over, gripping hard to slow myself, knowing contact between my
boots and the tower would ring like a clash of cymbals. My thighs absorbed the
impact silently, then my hands fought white knuckled to prevent my body rebounding
away from the tower.

Even in the shadows, the Orie mercs would have seen
me if they’d looked my way, but they were focused on servicing their fighting
suits. Below me, the soft scraping of the Mataron’s gripshoes marked his
progress past the tower base to the other side. Any thought of taking him
prisoner was gone. Fighting any Mataron hand to hand was a bad idea, even a
scientist unfamiliar with microgravity. Whoever he was, he moved like a common
planet hugger, but that meant nothing. Not every member of the Mataron Guard,
or even the Black Sauria, were zero-g trained. Our reptilian nemesis might have
been seven hundred thousand years ahead of us technologically, but they needed microgravity
training every bit as much as we did – something this ambling snakehead clearly
lacked.