Cypher (The Dragon's Bidding Book 2) (17 page)

The blast from this
bomb should be enough to take out everyone in the conference room; he didn’t
understand Smiley’s insistence that the poisoned needles be included. He
stroked his thumb across the outer case of the cylinder, careful not to touch
the tips of the darts packed inside. From the care both Smiley and Red took in
handling this thing, it was obviously deadly, but there wouldn’t be much left
alive after that bomb went off. He extracted a roll of spacer’s tape from his
case, tore off several pieces, and attached the canister to the power core,
then set the timer for 1830 hours.

In his hotel room last
night, he’d practiced until he could assemble the device in under a minute, but
now his nerves buzzed and his hands were slick with sweat. He cursed at the
uncooperative parts as the job took longer than he’d anticipated. He’d finally
snapped the scanner’s case back together when he heard a voice from the outer
office.

“Lieutenant? Where the
hell are you?”

“I’ll be right out.” He
flushed the toilet and splashed water on his face, drying off and stuffing the
towel back on the bar in an untidy wad.

She eyed him as he
returned. “You always take your case with you when you go to the bathroom?”

Damn, she didn’t miss a
thing, did she?

“Only when it has top
secret material in it. And I’m not sure you don’t have some light-fingered
person aboard who’d love to get their hands on it.”

“I told you, you don’t
have to worry about our security.”

“I’ll be the judge of
that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Commander, I could use a break, a
chance to stretch my legs. Why don’t we do our walk-through now? I can come
back and finish this up later.”

Mandisa led him on the
path the Emperor would take when she came aboard, while he pretended to use the
now non-functional scanner to check for explosive devices. He fought to contain
snickers from the irony of searching for a bomb using the very bomb they
hunted. Their last stop was his ultimate destination, the
Mad Dog
’s conference
room.

A long table, topped
with a slab of brushed plexisteel, dominated the narrow space. Above, a
recessed light spanned the length of it. That would be the best spot to place
the bomb; the underside of the hull plates would deflect the blast downward.

At the far end, behind
the captain’s chair at the head of the table, a large circular view port, now
closed, dominated the wall. Cypher approached it, setting his case on the edge
of the table, and activated the window’s controls. The shielding rolled back to
display the busy landing bay beyond the armorglass, techs scurrying in last
minute preparations for the royal visit. He tapped the panel again and watched
it iris shut.

“This seems like a
strange affectation to find on a warship.”

“We like it.”

“I expect you do;
particularly your captain.” He folded his arms on the back of the chair.
“Sitting here while the ship is under way, with the universe spread out behind
him, would lend him a certain air of majesty.”

“It’s not as if we had
much of a choice. This spaceframe had originally been slated for delivery to a
corporate buyer before the Empire got dibs on it. Successive models won’t have
the view port, for fear it might compromise a warship’s structural integrity.”

He slapped the top of
the seat. “I take it this is where the Emperor will be sitting for the
ceremony?” At Mandisa’s nod, he extracted his scanner and began the pantomime
of checking the room.

“I have yet to see, or
hear, anything that tells me that scanner is even working, Lieutenant.”

He ground his teeth
before he answered. “I have it slaved to my inhead display.” Just in case she
needed to be reminded that he was, after all, an augie.

“This is all a waste of
time, Lieutenant. My techs completed this same inspection earlier today and
found nothing.”

“Imperial Security’s
equipment is much more sensitive than the military’s; we can detect minute
anomalies your people might have missed.”

She sighed, turned away,
and mumbled under her breath, “Even if a dumb-ass augie is operating it.”

Ice tinged his words.
“Of course, Commander. And might I remind you that this
dumb-ass augie
has exceptionally acute hearing.”

He ducked beneath the
table, inspecting the underside. If he couldn’t get Mandisa out of the room, he
might have to attach the bomb here. Not his first choice, but it would do the
job. He opened the scanner’s case.

The conference room’s
door opened and a male voice said, “Can you take a look at this, Commander?”

From his vantage point
below the table, he saw them step into the corridor, the door sliding shut
behind them. In a hyperkinetic blur, he slipped out and leapt onto the
tabletop. The light housing was heavy, but he had no trouble lifting it out of
its frame far enough to slide the device inside. He snapped the empty case back
together, but before he could jump down, the door opened.

“A bit early to be
dancing on the table, Lieutenant,” Mandisa said.

He clenched his jaw,
fighting to formulate an explanation. “As I said, my scanner is extremely
sensitive and as a consequence it often gives anomalous readings. The problem
appears to be only a fluctuation in the light’s power source. Not unexpected on
a ship still undergoing last minute adjustments.”

He dropped from the
table and spun around, stowing the now empty scanner in his case, moving
quicker than a normal human, just to remind her what he was capable of. “Shall
we return to your office and finish up with the personnel files. I have more
pressing matters to attend to this afternoon.”

Back at her terminal,
Cypher discovered that his heightened senses allowed him to scan through the
files far quicker than he realized. Good. He wanted to finish this up now. In
less than an hour, he planned on boarding that starliner, so he’d need time to
make it back to his rented cubicle, destroy this uniform, and grab his ticket.
By the time the Emperor’s reign came to a loud and bloody end, he’d be light
years away in transit to Willcommin.

Mandisa rolled her eyes
at yet another interruption, the door opening to reveal a red faced, panting
ensign. “Captain needs you, ma’am, right now…”

They stepped into the
corridor. Cypher tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, curious to learn
what had the rating in such a panic, but an announcement blasted out of the
ship-wide comm, preceded by the twitter of a boatswain’s pipe, and he missed
their exchange.

“All station personnel
and non-essential Lister technicians are to disembark immediately.”

Mandisa appeared in the
door, her face a dark mask of rage. “You could have said something. Now
finished up your shit and get the hell off my ship. If you can’t find your way
out, ask any ensign.” Then she was gone.

Rather than appear
intimidated by her bluster, he punched up a cup of coffee from the processor
and returned to his seat. By the time he reached Willcommin, Smiley should have
transferred the remainder of his fee. He’d head straight for the bank and
withdraw everything, parceling it out to the dozens of blind accounts he’d set
up all around the Human Sector.

After he acquired a new
identity, his next task would be to find a ship—nothing flashy like a Pulsar,
but it would have to be fast and well appointed. When all the excitement had
died down and someone new sat on the throne—Smiley?—he’d return for Gray Eyes,
like he’d promised. She’d never get wealthy working at a military pay grade, so
a fancy yacht and healthy bank account might persuade her to throw in with him.

In that alley she’d
pretended she wasn’t interested, but her body had told a different story. And
if he couldn’t talk her into hooking up with him, he could have a lot of fun
with Gray Eyes before he got rid of her. Rough sex between augies might be
rather interesting.

Pain lanced through his
head, like daggers driven into each ear. The Other didn’t like that thought.
Not one bit. He chuckled at the reaction, and reached to put down his cup. The
strident piping of the whistle startled him, causing him to spill coffee all
over the XO’s desk.

“All ship’s personnel
report to the embarkation area.”

That meant it was time
for him to leave. He closed his case and left the cup sitting in the cooling
puddle of coffee for Mandisa to clean up. The corridor outside was empty, all
the access panels now buttoned up. He saw no one to ask directions, but it was
pretty much a straight shot until the left jog at the airlock. He couldn’t get
lost.

He paused as he heard
voices coming from the vicinity of the hatch; a lot of voices. Easing along the
bulkhead, he reached the bend in the corridor and peered around the corner. The
group of ship’s officers gathered there stepped back as another party came
aboard. Beyond the wall of naval blue, he could make out the white of
Praetorian Guards, and several figures in black uniforms identical to the one
he wore, and then a bright flash of purple.

That was impossible.
She couldn’t be here now.

The ship-wide comm
disagreed with him, the announcing pipe scratching his nerves like claws on
plexisteel.

“The Emperor is now on
board. I repeat, the Emperor is on board.”

He fought to get the
air moving in his lungs again, and cursed the nasty chuckle echoing in the back
of his mind.

You are bloody well
screwed now, son.

His body stepped
forward, a marionette moving at another’s will. He panicked, snatching control
of his muscles away from The Other and scurrying back the way he’d come, trying
each door he came to, but they were all locked. The XO’s office was his only
refuge. He stumbled in and sealed the door behind him.

Ransahov wasn’t due for
several more hours, so why was she here early? Had they found Pike and guessed
that he’d come aboard the ship in his place? No, that couldn’t be right. If
they even suspected to find him here, they’d have charged through the hatch
with weapons drawn—Gray Eyes would have made sure of that.

Gray Eyes. This was her
doing. She thought she could outsmart him by advancing the Emperor’s timetable,
but he’d beaten her at her own game. Already set, the bomb would go off, not at
the start like he’d originally planned, but later when they were all liquored
up and congratulating themselves on having beaten him again. Even better.

Too bad the blast would
take Gray Eyes out.

Most likely, they’d
stick to the Emperor’s original itinerary, which meant they’d head for the
bridge first, then engineering. He only had to wait here a few minutes, to make
sure everyone had left the area of the airlock, and he could slip off the ship.

His inhead chrono
flickered off the minutes. If he didn’t leave soon, there wouldn’t be enough
time to swing by the cubical and pick up his ticket. He should have brought it
with him, but hadn’t wanted to chance it being found on him.

Beneath his feet, the
deck began to vibrate, low, barely at the edge of perception, but it steadily
built.

No, No, No
,
he chanted as he palmed the door open and charged up the corridor, not quite at
a panicked run. He reached the airlock, found it deserted, but now the
vibration had grown into a low growl. Twin metallic clanks echoed through the
ship, and the deck seemed to shift beneath his feet. He slammed his hand on the
airlock’s release again and again, but nothing happened. It was useless. The
ship’s comm confirmed his fears.

“All hands, prepare for
departure. Say again, prepare to exit space dock.”

Cypher groaned and
leaned his head against the uncaring metal of the hatch. The
Mad Dog
was
going out, and he was trapped on board with the Emperor and a ticking bomb.

To Fitz, Coronia looked
like two stations had collided, fused, and then one began to grow around the
other without plan or control. Starting life decades ago as a military
facility, the commercial side had been added later to service naval personnel
headed down-world or out-system on leave or rotation. As commerce in the Scyran
System grew, it picked up the traffic overflow from the two other privately-owned
stations, sending out domed concourses, glittering observation spires and
docking arms in every direction until now it resembled a giant bioluminescent
creature swallowing the dark bulk of the military station.

Fitz sat on Lizzy’s
bridge, lights extinguished to match her dark mood. Her only companion, Jumper,
occupied the co-pilot’s seat, front paws tucked under his chest.

“You know Bartonelli is
really pissed at you.”

She sighed. “It wasn’t
my call. Captain Wellborn stipulated no civilians, particularly of the mercenary
persuasion.”

“I don’t know what the
big deal is. He’s letting a couple of cats come aboard.”

“That’s because Ari’s
bringing Faydra, and when the Emperor says she’s bringing her cat, all a ship’s
captain can say about it is ‘What kind of food does she like?’ You’re along to
accompany Faydra.”

“Guess that makes me
the Emperor’s cat’s consort, huh?”
He stood and stretched
.
“I could get used to being a kept cat.”

Lizzy’s comm chimed at
the same time Fitz’s inhead paged her with a message labeled urgent. Her
computer identified the caller as Lieutenant Adley, the Praetorian Guardsman in
charge of the palace communications office. Before she could finish identifying
herself, the man interrupted her, voice high with excitement.

“We got him, Colonel. We
captured your bad guy.”

“What?” Fitz’s heart
thumped inside her chest and she held her breath, afraid the long awaited news
would dissolve into just another rumor.

Adley suddenly
remembered proper military protocol. “About an hour ago a marine checkpoint
team intercepted the perpetrator trying to board a shuttle to Coronia Station.
As soon as he tried passing through the scanners, he set off the alarm. The
guards stunned him, pulled his spike and packed him off to one of those nasty
isolation cells beneath the old DIS headquarters. Just like you ordered.”

Tagging Wolf’s file had
been a long shot, but it had paid off.

“Has he said anything?’
Fitz hoped he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut until she got back.

“Not that I know of,
but I don’t think he’s awake yet. Your message implied he was a real bad dude,
so I don’t think they were willing to take any chances. They tranqed him pretty
hard to keep him out.”

“He’s going to be
pissed when he wakes up. A familiar face might not be a bad idea. You know,
just to smooth things over,”
Jumper said
.

“Lieutenant, I’m
sending over a civilian. Bartonelli’s the only person with clearance to talk to
him until I get there.”

“The mercenary?”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some
complaints from people in the barracks that she’s cleaning them out at
Maxillian poker.”

“Yepper, that’s
Bartonelli. I taught her everything I know about the game.”

Fitz chuckled, an
eruption that felt foreign after the stress of the past few days. “Then you’ll
be glad to get her out of your hair for a while. Thank you, Lieutenant, and
good job.”

As soon as she
disconnected, she put her face in her hands and surrendered to the shakiness
she’d held back for so long. It felt right to let go, to let the feelings take
over and not be the strong one for a few seconds. She longed to drop the mask
of the cold professional SpecOps agent and feel Wolf’s arms around her, hear
him telling her it would all be okay. The nightmare was finally over and now
they could get on with their lives. The tap of a paw against her arm brought
her upright, sniffing and wiping the moisture from her cheeks. She pulled the
cat into her arms and squeezed him.

“It’ll be great to have
the Big Guy back, Boss Lady.”

“I know, but I’m just
not usually this emotional. I guess it’s a sign of all the pressure I’ve been
under.”

Fitz blew out a deep
breath and composed herself before calling Bartonelli.

“Regretting you didn’t
bring me along already, Chima?” The murmur of voices and clatter of glassware
in the background made Fitz wonder if the sergeant wasn’t at this moment
lightening the pockets of some of her guardsmen.

“As it turned out,
we’re lucky that you stayed behind.”

“How’s that, Chima?”
Bartonelli asked, then whispered aside, “Three novae and the dragon, boys and
girls. Let’s see you beat that.”

If the chorus of groans
Fitz could hear was any indication, they couldn’t. Perhaps she should have
Lieutenant Adley warn his people about playing cards with the diminutive merc.

“We captured Wolf.”

“What? Where?”

“We caught him trying to
pass through a security checkpoint to catch a shuttle up to the station. They
stunned him and stashed him in one of the holding cells at DIS headquarters.”

“He ain’t going to like
that.”

“That’s why I need you
to get over there right away and bring him up to date. I’m not sure how much
he’ll remember from the time Cypher controlled him, but if anything from that
fight in the hospital stuck with him, he’s going to need to know you’re okay.
I’ll spring him as soon as I get back to the surface.”

“You got it, Chima,”
Bartonelli said, and disconnected.

“Colonel, we just
received our final clearance to our docking bay,” Lizzy announced as the plot
appeared on the display. The trans-atmospheric fighter escort they’d picked up
on the planet peeled off, returning to the carrier parked just off the
station’s bow.

“ETA at the landing bay
in fifteen minutes,” the ship said.

“Good, I’ll go get
Mamma Dragon’s butt in gear.”
The cat hopped down and
Fitz followed him aft.

First she swung by the
equipment bay, where the Praetorian honor guard was gearing up. “Fifteen
minutes until skids down, people. Look sharp.”

She paused at the door
to Ari’s quarters, where Nickolai Costos stood at parade rest. Fitz tried to
compose her features in the detachment of command, but couldn’t keep the silly
grin off her face. “We got him, Nick. We caught the assassin trying to sneak
aboard the station.”

Surprise crossed his
face, replaced by a wide smile. He pumped his fist, then quickly returned it to
behind his back. “Yes, ma’am.”

As Fitz entered the
royal quarters, a personal assistant fussed with Ari’s uniform, straightening
each ribbon and button on the purple jacket. She waited for the woman to
finish, bobbing up and down on her toes. Ari shot her a speculative look.

“That’ll be all for
now, Sarah.” She waited until they were alone before turning to Fitz. “What is
it?”

“They stopped Wolf
trying to catch a shuttle up to Coronia. We have him in custody, and as soon as
we finish up here, I can go and get him…bring him back.” Her voice broke as her
throat closed up and tears spilled from her eyes.

Ari crossed the room
and pulled her into an embrace, holding her as long as Fitz needed to let down
her emotions, to not be the strong one and to take a little comfort from
another human being. A need the past few days had denied her, denied her at the
time she had most needed it. Eventually, she straightened.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ve
been blubbering all over your uniform. I’ve never been this emotional.”

“Then you’ve never been
this much in love with someone before. Or come so close to losing him.” Ari
brushed the tears from Fitz’s cheek. “It’s nice to know my tough little augie
bodyguard is still human on the inside.”

Fitz nodded, slipping
back into her hard-shelled warrior persona. “We should be arriving on station
momentarily.”

Ari grinned, and Fitz
didn’t trust that mischievous glint in her green eyes. “And with this threat
removed, Colonel, I plan on relaxing and having a bit of fun on this official
function. I want to take that new corvette out, give her a bit of a joy ride.
Ever since I saw the first work-up on that ship, I’ve been itching to get at
her helm. Just to fly something again, and not be chauffeured around like I’m
too old and senile to be trusted at the controls.”

“Too valuable to risk,”
Fitz amended. “And Captain Wellborn is not going to be happy to turn his new
ship over to someone who hasn’t flown anything beyond a single shuttle in forty
years. And you dinged it up.”

“That was in the heat
of battle, and as long as you keep flying, a few scrapes don’t matter. And
besides, Captain Wellborn is not about to tell the Emperor she can’t fly his
ship. Technically, it’s not even his ship yet. Until Lister turns the
Mad
Dog
over to me at that ceremony, it still belongs to them. I’m sure Miah
will let me take it out for a spin.”

“Miah? You know her?”

“Back when she was Miah
Sorrenson. She was one fine fighter jock, and later, during the War, a damn
good ship driver. That was until Corrin Lister spirited her away to head his
development and testing division, and then married her.”

Fitz remembered the
striking young woman she’d met at the Hideyoshi Shipyards. “You knew her before
you went to Baldark. That means she’s…”

“One of us. One of the
original six who survived Lazzinair’s damn experiment at the Yebbix Field
Hospital.” Regret filled her green eyes. “I warned her not to marry Lister, but
they were so much in love. I can only imagine how painful it was to watch her partner
grow older with each year, and eventually die, while she went on and on,
unchanging.”

Wolf hadn’t mentioned
that his friendship with Lister had stretched back decades when he suggested
they take Lizzy there for repairs, but he wouldn’t have. She hadn’t known all
his secrets then. Not that she knew everything about him now, either. A man can
accumulate a lot of secrets in ninety years.

A slight thump through
the deck plates, and the spinning down of the engine’s vibrations, warned Fitz
they’d landed a second before Lizzy gave her a heads up on the arrival.

“You cats staying
here?” she asked. Jumper shared the bed with Faydra, his paws around her neck
while he washed her ears.

“Hell, no. And miss a
chance to ride on a warship?”

“There won’t be any
riding. Just a walk through, then the mess,” Fitz said.

“A party? Food and a
ride on a warship.”

“Really, Jumper, can’t
you think about anything but eating?”
Faydra asked.

“I think about you,
Sweet Paws.”

“It’s a good thing you
said that.”

The cats hopped down and
trotted out the door with the two women.

A crowd of Coronia’s
dignitaries greeted them upon departure. The Fleet Commandant showed all the
quiet reserve and deference of a military officer greeting his liege, but the
station CEO nattered on about passenger level increases, number of docks and
tonnage transshipped as if he were delivering an annual report to the Board of
Directors. The party crossed the station, traversing corridors lined with
silent, armed marines at attention.

Despite the lessening
of the danger, old habits kept Fitz scanning her surroundings, acute senses
sharp, but her threat assessment computer idled at a low alert level. At the
entrance to the corvette’s docking bay, the civilian party withdrew and Fitz
almost missed Ari’s parting remark to the station head.

“Advise your Traffic
Control that we will be taking the ship out shortly. Please arrange for all the
necessary clearances and prepare the bay for our departure.” Ari glanced back
at Fitz, a mischievous glint in her eyes, well aware that even her Chief of
Security wouldn’t dare contradict the Emperor in public.

Fitz ground her teeth
as she followed Ari through the banner-draped bay, between the lines of
saluting sailors, and onto the ship. Captain Wellborn and his officers greeted them,
dressed in a curious mixture of coveralls and dress uniforms. She almost didn’t
recognize Miah Lister. She’d been expecting the elegantly dressed and coiffed
CEO she’d met at the Atrium, not a slender figure in rumpled coveralls, sleeves
rolled up to the elbows, with a messy ponytail and a smudge of dirt on her
cheek. Ari greeted the engineer with the warmth of old friendship.

“How about we proceed
to the bridge, Miah, and you can show me this shiny new toy you’ve given me.”

“Not given. There’s the
not-so-little matter of the price tag for this contract, Your Majesty.” Lister
chuckled. “Never thought I’d be calling you that. Particularly after that time
you got blasted on vilaprim and slugged that ambassador…”

As the two women headed
forward, lost in their reminiscing, Fitz glanced around, expecting to see Pike,
but he wasn’t there. That wasn’t like him. She hoped he hadn’t ruffled
Mandisa’s feathers so badly he got himself kicked off the ship.