Gates of Hell (31 page)

“So you seem to think. Why?”

“Suicidally, recklessly arrogant,” Roxy went on. “They don’t care what they have to do to get control of the known galaxy.”

“Sounds like Kith.”

“Trin think it is their right to own the universe simply because they want to. They are boundlessly ambitious—and not even that well organized about it. They’re a loosely affiliated band of technologically advanced warlords. Extremely technologically advanced.”

“Everyone is aware of that much, Roxanne.” There was a warning impatience in Pyr’s tone. He reached out and covered her left hand, stopping her work, and offering slight comfort at the same time. “Now, tell me why it is the Trin and not the Bucons who are responsible for this plague.”

“Because they don’t care how many lives they have to take to control what’s left. Bucons are not murderous. Bucons like to negotiate, to trade. Trin make ultimatums, always go for complete victory. The Trin have done this sort of ruthless thing before. Not a disease,” she hurried on. “But the Sheets.” A sharply indrawn breath from Pyr told her he knew what a Sheet was. Trying to suppress information about that particular weapon of mass destruction had not been completely successful. “Most people who have heard of Sheets are not aware of how often they were used, or the extent of the devastation. The United Systems government kept a great deal of information from the media. If you ever saw a Sheet you’d think it was lovely,” she added, unable not to call up the memory of the sight of the delicate scarf of energy as it floated across the
Tigris’s
main view screen a million miles away. “They glow and sparkle and scintillate with light—and they eat worlds. What they touch, disappears. Every time the Trin used a Sheet they would send a message to the Council, only one word—’Surrender.’ One word for an entire planet—billions of years of evolution gone for nothing, and all to gain control of what was left. I saw a Sheet released on a star once. The damn thing absorbed the energy of a
star
. Took the star and put it somewhere else. There were three inhabited worlds circling that star, and everything on those worlds died in absolute cold and dark.” She did not go into lurid detail of what she’d felt and seen on those dark, murdered worlds. She looked at Pyr and said, “And that is only one of the reasons I am certain that the Trin are behind the plague.”

“Experience rather than proof.” He waved away any argument. “Doesn’t matter who is responsible.”

“Yes, it does!”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “And why is that, Roxanne?”

She didn’t realize how terrified she was until she heard herself blurt out, “Because I don’t want you going against the Trin on your own!” The next thing she knew they were both out of their chairs and her arms were wound tightly around him, holding him so hard it was as if she was trying to take him inside of her. He held her close and stroked her hair and gave her comfort she hadn’t asked for and wanted desperately. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” she finally managed to spit out, and tried to push him away. He held her for a moment longer, thinking
I’m not alone
. She muttered, “Shit,” again, but not in disagreement.

She felt like an idiot, and was glad when he let her go and changed the subject. “The last thirty hours have been quite productive for me, too,” he said.

That reminded her that there was a world beyond her research, and her concerns. She turned and went back to her chair, sat down, and primly folded her hands in her lap. Pyr went to sit on one of the beds. They gazed at each other from this reasonable distance, and she asked, “You’ve contacted this admiral you were looking for?”

“Yes. Turns out he was looking for me as well as looking for you. Seems he had a plan to eliminate Robe Halfor and wanted my help. He seems to think I might be interested in taking Halfor’s job with the pirate guild after Halfor is stopped from trying to topple the Monolem dynasty.”

“What makes him think a border-running renegade like you would be interested? He does think you’re Bucon, right?”

“He most certainly does. We’ve met before, Admiral Manalo and I.” He crossed his legs and hooked his clasped hands over his knee. He looked smug as he added, “He’s tried to broach the offer before. Since he watched you heal Mik, he’s even more interested.”

“Thank you,” she grumbled. “I so enjoy working with an audience.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “You aren’t the only thing I have that he wants.”

She was not above rising to this bait. “What else do you have?”

“A Door.”

Roxy shot to her feet. “You can’t have a Door! Shireny hasn’t invented it yet!” Reine and Betheny had been working on adapting captured Sheet technology into a teleportation device for the last two years. They were close, but Roxy was certain they weren’t there yet.

He regarded her outburst with high good humor. “You shouldn’t know what a Door is,” he pointed out.

“Neither should you,” was her outraged reply.

“Unless, of course, you are privy to a great deal more classified information than a medical specialist should be,” he added. “Unless your formidable sister Reine is the ‘Shir’ part of Shireny and your League relative is the ‘eny’ part. I believe her name is Betheny, the Pirate League engineer who defected a few years ago. And you still shouldn’t know about such highly classified research.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes Reine thinks in her sleep. And how do
you
know about Doors?” she demanded.

“Mik is a very talented man. The League provided him with some data and equipment—they are working with the Trin these days, you know—and he did the rest.” As she stared at him, wide-eyed and barely able to take in this revelation, he went on. “Ours is a prototype device, but it works quite well so far. Comes in quite handy,” he added. “Breathe, Roxanne. Even you need oxygen.”

She drew in a deep, ragged breath, and then anger overtook her shock as she remembered the planetary defense ship that had disappeared when the
Tigris
stopped it from attacking plague victims. “The cloak! You stole the Shireny cloak and have been selling it!”

Pyr looked thoughtful for about half a second. “No. I think Mik would have told me if he’d done that. Someone else must have acquired those specs and is bootlegging the cloak. I’ll have to go looking for them. We have a very good cloak, but not up to Shireny standards yet.” He got to his feet. “I have to go now, Roxanne. We’ll be attacking Halfor’s base in a few minutes.”

Roxy was only taken briefly by surprise. In thirty hours, an alliance could be formed and an attack planned. She sat back down by the research computer. It was hard work to remind herself that she was an officer in the United Systems Military Service, officially making her a neutral in this fight. She had no business wanting to know the details of someone else’s war. “I hope you’re not expecting me to ask to come along.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to let you go.”

She patted the console. “I have my own work to do.”

He frowned. “I was going to point that out.”

“I’ve been in enough field battles, Pyr. I’d rather fight with Sag Fever. Good luck finding your son,” she added, as he glanced toward the door. “I’ll have the sickbay standing by for casualties.”

Technically, she shouldn’t even do that, but to hell with some technicalities.

He nodded. “Good. Much appreciated. I’ll bring you back a Trin’s head as a present, if I find one.”

“Much appreciated.” She shooed him toward the door. “And bring back all the Rust you can find. I need it for the vaccine.”

Pilsane and Mik joined him in the corridor outside the infirmary. Pilsane tossed Pyr his hat and leather coat. “Hear it’s cold down there,” was his comment. “There” was the moon that was the heavily fortified main base for the entire Bucon pirate guild.

“Won’t be for long,” Pyr replied, and slipped them on.

The body armor inside the coat added a nice layer of insulation. He touched the jeweled gold brooch he’d pinned to the collar of the coat, and gave himself a moment of hopeful anticipation of returning the clan insignia to its rightful owner. That hope was tempered with amusement that Roxanne had not told him to be careful. Instead, she’d presented him with a shopping list, implying confidence that he would return triumphant. He tried not to think that he had something to go for, and something to come home to, but only of the job ahead. Still, Pyr’s step was buoyant as he walked with his men toward Engineering and the Door.

“It was nice of Denvry to bring another half dozen minor players with him at the last minute and add their ships to the regular Bucon security forces,” Pilsane commented. “Halfor would not make a popular emperor, it seems.”

“Wasn’t all that last minute,” Pyr said. “Manalo’s been working on this coalition for weeks. The admiral thinks that the
Raptor’s
joining with him is what finally swung all the others to his side. He’s very grateful.”

“Grateful Bucons make me nervous,” Pilsane said.

“We’ll worry about it later. One battle at a time, my brothers.”

They reviewed tactics and gave a few new orders as they hurried along. It was a relatively simple plan; all it really required was a lot of firepower, brute force, and a Door. Simplicity was generally the best strategy, especially when one could hide a trick within the obvious attack. One ship, even with a good cloak and a teleportation device, would not have been able to get near the pirate base, not that Pyr wouldn’t have tried if it had come to that. Being one ship amid many provided the
Raptor
with sufficient cover to carry out a mission other than open attack.

He was grateful Denvry had brought a herd of ships to join the battle. They needed many ships, for many reasons. For one thing, his Bucon crew could now be counted on to go along with an attack that promised booty, when they might have been a bit reluctant to join in a suicide mission to attack the heavily fortified base. Many different types of ships, with many types of weapons and cloaking devices, would be harder for the defenders’ sensors to identify and keep track of. That gave the
Raptor
even more cover for breaking away from the main battle and carrying out the rescue mission.

The Bucon admiral had wanted to send a large commando force through the Door to do the job the three men planned to do, but Pyr would not allow any but his own people to use Mik’s clever teleportation device. Manalo had no choice but to agree to do it Pyr’s way. The Door worked best within orbiting distance and directly over the target destination. Linch’s job was to break away from the battle long enough to get them over Halfor’s headquarters, drop them off, then move back into the cover of the battle until the ship was called for pickup. Their job was to get in, find Axylel, and disable the defensive shields from inside the fortress while they were at it. Pyr planned to personally kill the man who held his son prisoner as well, but hadn’t mentioned this to the Bucon admiral when they agreed on the attack plan.

“Envirobelts?” Mik asked as they reached the Door room. The engineer made the offer with an air of apology rather than with any conviction that they’d follow standard procedures for going into combat in an artificial atmosphere.

Pyr glanced only briefly at the case where safety equipment was stored. He could think of a dozen different ways to disable an environmental belt in a combat situation. Besides, they were vulnerable to sensor detection as well. The point of using a Door was stealth. “We’ll just have to hold our breath if the moon’s atmosphere factory takes a direct hit.” Chances were it was too deeply buried for that.

“Thought so,” Mik said, and moved to the Door’s control station in the center of the room. He looked up at Pyr. “Where to?”

After a moment of deep concentration, Pyr sent sensory impressions to Mik of where he wanted to go that the engineer was somehow able to turn into coordinates for a target destination.

Pyr and Pilsane went to stand within the metal ring of the targeting mechanism. Mik joined them a moment later to wait for Linch’s signal that the ship was in place. They all held weapons, while Mik also held the small silver box he used for remote activation of the Door. The ship shuddered a few times under the impact of enemy fire. Pyr wouldn’t let himself worry about the battle, though Mik looked pained that anyone dared shoot at his ship. A few seconds passed like separate eternities before Linch’s thought reached them.

Go.

———

“Where are we?”

“Mik, you have got to stop closing your eyes when you go through the Door,” Pyr answered the engineer as he looked around the room they’d stepped into. “Bedroom,” he added. He had not expected a cell; Bucons were too complicated to use simple, crude prisons to hold their captives.

“I can see that,” Mik said. He and Pilsane turned to guard the door while Pyr looked around with all his senses, examining the end of the mental trail. It was a small room, untidy in a most familiar way, with clothes carelessly scattered around. Father and son were much alike in many ways. Axylel was not here, but he had been, not long before, his lifethread muted and muddled.

No one in the corridor outside
, Pilsane reported after a telepathic probe beyond the room.
Your turn, Dha-lrm
.

Pyr concentrated his awareness away from Axylel and sent it questing delicately across Halfor’s pirate base. Mik activated a holoprojector that showed a blank architecture template. One by one, Pyr reported the position of each mind he brushed past and what details the encounters brought. One by one, some of those encountered fell as Pyr touched, then passed them by, an invisible angel of death to those whose natural mental shields were weak. Mik used the information to map out the interior of the stronghold, turning organic encounters into the outlines of rooms, corridors, stairways, and lifts. Pilsane used the information to decide the probable interior security system. They’d used this method before, and while it took time when Pyr would rather have been storming through the stronghold burning down every Bucon he saw, this was the safe, sane way to run an invasion of three against several hundred.