Read Katya's World Online

Authors: Jonathan L. Howard

Katya's World (30 page)


Weapons free,

intoned the computer.

Launch in progress. Stand by.

The room seemed to freeze but for every face turning to the main display. On the holographic image, green crosses trailing short green dotted tails were squirming away from the circle labelled
FP-1
towards the arrowhead called
LEV
. Tasya looked at it for a long moment, anger and dismay working her features.

Then she saw movement and levelled her gun as Petrov rose, his rifle already aimed directly at her. Tasya was faster but Petrov was cooler, taking his time while her maser bolts fanned harmlessly around him. He returned fire, a three pulse burst, and she crumpled without a sound.

Then every console and all three displays in the place went dark. A moment later, they flickered back into subdued life, diagnostic data sliding across them.

Petrov was suddenly by Katya.

What did you do?

he demanded.


Re-initialised their system. By the time it’s up and running again, it will be too late to stop the torpedoes.

She looked around at the dim flickering lights.

Can we go now?


Good time for it,

agreed Petrov. He stood up and laid down a withering fire on the Yagizbans, already in disarray from the reversal of the ambush and the loss of the Chertovka. Lukyan, a second lieutenant who’d taken Katya’s pistol, and another who’d grabbed a carbine dropped by one of the injured troopers all joined in. The Yagizban weren’t in flat retreat, but the FMA crew were able to force a pass to a secondary exit and went through in a run.


Now what?

asked Lukyan from one side of the doorway as he laid down covering fire for the FMA withdrawal.

Petrov scattered some shots from his position on the other side of the door.

The docks. Let’s hope and pray the other party were able to secure a ride out of here.

As the last of their number ran crouching past them, Lukyan dragged the door shut and melted the lock with a welter of closely placed bolts.

 

They didn’t trust the lifts to get them where they wanted to go and used the emergency stairs instead. They’d hardly got through the doors into the stair well with its horizontal bulkheads separating each level when they found everybody just standing there. Petrov forced himself through the mass.

What’s going on? They’re going to be after us in a minute and they’re not going to be taking prisoners!

 


Sir!

An ensign, pale and sweating stepped forward. Katya recognised him from the other group, the ones who’d gone to steal a boat.

Petrov regarded him with foreboding.

What’s the news, ensign?


We couldn’t get to the boat bays, sir! They were waiting for us. We lost Tobin and Keretsky.

Petrov nodded; it was only to be expected after the ambush in the bridge that the Yagizban would throw a perimeter around their boats.

So where are the rest of you?


Sir, we went the other way, towards the aircraft decks.

The ensign smiled wanly.

I don’t think they expected us to think about flying.

Petrov grinned wolfishly.

Tell me you’ve grabbed an aircraft.

The ensign nodded emphatically.

We’ve got a transporter, but they were hard pressed to hold it when I left to fetch you, sir. Mr Lubarin requests your company as quickly as possible.

Petrov looked up the well.

I’d be delighted to give him my reply in person.

The Novgorods surged up the stairs, bristling stolen guns front and rear.

 


They depend on their technology too much,

Lukyan told Katya as they ran upwards.

They fight like children, terrified of being hurt.

 

The stairs seemed to go on forever, and Katya was too breathless to reply although she was impressed that her uncle hardly seemed to be breaking a sweat. He was right, though. The Yagizban were badly coordinated and their response to the threat posed to them by a partially armed mob of Federal Marines had been piecemeal and ineffectual. A couple of troopers had stuck their heads out of a door on the stairs and fired a brace of
w
i
ld
shots before ducking back and locking it, duty done. Katya could see that the idea of having the
Leviathan
fight and win a war for them more or less by itself would appeal greatly to them. They’d had some structure and competence while Tasya had been in command, but without her they were a joke.

She felt ambivalent about Tasya’s death. She was clearly very dangerous and would have been a significant part of the Conclave’s war effort, with or without the
Leviathan
. With her gone, she wondered if officers like Major Moltsyn represented their best. She hoped so; Moltsyn
behaved like a middle-ranking bureaucrat, not a military man. Putting him into a uniform just looked like a good way to lose
wars without the enemy even having to get out of bed.

On the other hand, she’d respected Tasya even if she hadn’t actually liked her much. She would remember for the rest of her life the sight of Tasya – no, she hadn’t been Tasya at that exact moment – she would remember the Chertovka, the She-Devil, leaping upon the deadly form of the
Leviathan
’s drone. She’d never seen such an act of reckless bravery before, and doubted she would ever see its like again. Petrov had shown great courage in the bridge, but Tasya…. She was simply breathtaking. And now she was dead. Dead like Olya and those troopers and Tobin and Keretsky and who knew who else in this war that was stumbling into existence without anybody troubling to declare it. If they didn’t stop this before it went any
further, Olya’s and the others
only distinction would be that they were at the head of a very long list of the dead.

 

The stairs opened out into a staging area on the aircraft deck. A group of Yagizban troopers had taken cover behind packing crates and were firing steadily at a transporter like the one that had brought the
Vodyanoi
to the FP-1 platform. From the transport’s open flight deck hatch and from behind its forward landing pylon, some little fire was being returned. It looked like the FMA team had only been able to steal a couple of guns.

 

A couple of the troopers saw Petrov’s team heading for them and smiled, seeing only friendly uniforms and guns.

Glad you lot finally got here,

said one of them cheerfully,

if we set up a cross fire with you firing across from…

His voice trailed away as he realised that his

reinforcements

had their guns levelled at him and his comrades.

A nearby first aid box yielded a medical tape dispenser and Petrov didn’t hesitate to dial it up to maximum adhesiveness before taping the captured troopers hands behind their backs. Taking their weapons, the FMA team, Katya and Lukyan ran across the open deck to where they were enthusiastically greeted by the rest of their number.


Does anybody actually know how to fly this thing?

asked Petrov when he’d got some hush.


I do,

said Suhkalev, stepping forward with an air of slight embarrassment.


You do?

Katya couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice but, then, she didn’t try very hard.


I logged fifteen hours flying time.

He didn’t sound defensive, just embarrassed still.


Real flight or simulator?

His voiced dipped.

Simulator. You need twenty hours before they’ll trust you with a real AG flyer.


This isn’t a little reconnaissance craft, Suhkalev,

said Petrov,

just remember that and don’t try any fancy flying.

Katya looked at him with surprise. He surely wasn’t going to trust Suhkalev with all their lives? Petrov caught her look.

Submarines don’t carry more than two air pilots for their flyers, Ms Kuriakova. Of ours, one died in the mines and the other is,
was
Tokarov. Fifteen hours in the simulator will have to do.


We still have a problem,

growled Lukyan.

How do we get this thing from here up onto the platform itself?

Suhkalev had strapped himself into the pilot’s position and was quickly examining the controls.

On the elevator stage,

he said without looking up.

But we don’t need to use that if we can just get the platform hatch open. It’s big – I think I can fly us straight from here and out without using the elevator at all.


Can we do that from here?

said Petrov.


No. That will be controlled from the deck flight control room. Over there.

They followed the line of his pointing hand to a control room built into the wall some ten metres from the ground reached via an enclosed spiral staircase.

Petrov sighed.

Nothing’s ever easy, is it? I’ll get it.


No,

said Lukyan.

I’ll do it.

Katya looked
at him as i
f he were mad.

Uncle?

Lukyan wasn’t listening. He was trading the maser carbine for one of the more powerful assault versions and making sure it was carrying a full cell.

I won’t be long,

he said and climbed through the hatch. Katya looked to Petrov for support but he was busy going through the flight deck’s controls with Suhkalev.

Lukyan was halfway to the base of the metal cylinder housing the control room’s spiral staircase when he whirled at the sound of footsteps, his rifle ready.

Katya! Get back to the aircraft right now! That’s an order!

She skittered to a halt in front of him.

I’m coming with you.


I gave you an order!


I’m not in the military and neither are you anymore!


Tokarov…


I don’t think we can count anything Tokarov’s done as being in the interests of the FMA, can we?

Lukyan blustered for a moment while he thought of another argument.

I’m your captain and you’re my navigator. You take orders for me and I’m telling you to get back there!

She glared fiercely back.

I quit! I resign my post!

Lukyan paused, stuck for a reply.

I’ll… I’ll give you a
really
bad job reference.

They managed to continue glaring at one another for almost three seconds before Lukyan’s face cracked into an embarrassed grin and he started laughing. Katya couldn’t stay angry either and joined him.

That’s the most pathetic threat I think I’ve ever heard, uncle.


What else could I say? You’re too old to have your allowance cut off.

His laughter became subdued and he looked at her tenderly.

Sometimes, I really see my sister in you, Katinka. She could be mule headed too.


It’s a family trait. Come on, we could have been there and halfway back by now.

They entered the cylinder and climbed quickly and quietly up, Lukyan leading with his rifle at the ready. After two and a half revolutions around the central newel column, they emerged into the control room. Lukyan immediately snapped the rifle to his shoulder and took aim.

You.


Me,

agreed Kane, affable as always. He sat in one of the room’s wheeled chairs at the far end of a long console that ran the length of the side overlooking the aircraft staging areas beneath a long window. He had his feet up on the console edge and seemed to have been waiting some time.

Katya stepped around from behind her uncle.

Are you going to make a hobby of turning up unexpectedly in places I’m heading for?


Ah,

said Kane,

last time I was just somewhere you were supposed to be, so it doesn’t count.


And this time?


This time I was waiting for you, admittedly. When you pulled that stunt on the bridge it was obvious you’d be
looking for
a way out. The Yagizban seemed very sure you’d try for the locks and threw most of their people down there. I selflessly said I’d take my trusty crew and guard the aircraft.


We didn’t see any of your lot, just a Conclave patrol.


Yes, that was unfortunate. They wandered in when we were doing such a sterling job of guarding the place. What with me up here drinking horrible coffee and my crew in the
Vodyanoi
over at the emergency deployment locks just over there.

He waved vaguely at the far side of the hangar.


Hold on,

said Lukyan slowly,

are you saying you were going to let us go? Us and the FMA crew?


No past tense about it, Lukyan Pushkin. I
am
going to let you and the Federals go. That,

he pointed at the console,

is the control you’re looking for, to open the flight deck. Goodbye and good luck.


Why are you betraying the Yagizban?


I owe them no fealty. They’ve used me and my boat and my crew for the last few years. I used to think they were sincere in taking and holding the planet for Earth until such time as a new expedition from the home world could be organised. This whole
Leviathan
episode has put the lie to that – they just think they could do a better job of running the planet.


And you don’t think they could?

Katya asked as she walked to the console and casually snapped the control over. Outside, the massive hatch in the hangar’s ceiling cracked open and the two halves slid ponderously apart, the whine of the motors driving them obscured by the thunder and gales outside.


Oh, I’m sure they could. It’s not a question of politics, Katya. It’s about loyalties. Mine still lie a good few light years away. My crew are all Terran. We’ve talked it over and… we’ll wait rather than put up with being lackeys to the Conclaves anymore.

Lukyan frowned. His gun hadn’t drifted from Kane so much as a centimetre.

Wait for what?

Kane looked steadily at him.

You don’t think Earth has finished with Russalka yet, do you?

The sliding hatch halves were now almost fully retracted and the storm lashed through. Curtains of rain poured in a column down onto the hangar deck to swirl through gratings and into the bilges. Kane stood up slowly to avoid antagonising Lukyan’s trigger finger and looked out of the observation window.

You had better go. As had I.

He started to step away but something caught his eye and he moved back again.

Oh dear. That complicates things.

Katya looked down and saw troopers streaming onto the hangar deck, deploying to cover and securing as they went. Impossibly, they were led by…


Tasya!

Katya went pale.

She’s dead! We saw…

Lukyan joined her.

So,

he growled,

that fancy armour’s not just for show.

He took Katya’s arm and headed for the steps.


No! Wait!

Katya shook herself free and ran back to the console. On the communications board were the fin numbers for all the craft she assumed the Yagizban currently had available. She looked out of the window and then down the list until she found the channel for the transporter Petrov and his crew had taken. She selected it and spoke.

Lieutenant Petrov! This is Katya Kuriakova. Come in, please.

Almost immediately, the hail was returned.

Ms Kuriakova, what is your situation?


We can’t get to you, we’re cut off.


We can…


No, don’t try to rescue us. They want to kill you. The Chertovka’s leading them.

There was a pause while this intelligence sank in.

Resilient, isn’t she?

Petrov said finally.


Get out of here. Right now! Get to FMA waters and tell them what’s happening. Just go!


We can’t leave you.


Don’t be stupid. Of course you can. You must. Don’t worry, we have an alternative escape route.

She looked at Kane, pleading. He smiled slightly at her and Lukyan and nodded.

Just go.


What alter…

The troopers opened fire on the transport. Maser bolts cracked off her hull.


I’m not debating it, Petrov! Just go!

She snapped the communications link off. She turned to Kane, the confidence she’d had in the radio conversation evaporating.

Okay, Kane. How do we get to the
Vodyanoi
without being cut into pieces?


First, we wa
it. Let Petrov stay centre stage
for a while longer.

The three of them watched the transporter. It didn’t move.

They
have
got a pilot, haven’t they?


That boy, Suhkalev,

replied Lukyan, watching the transport closely.

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