Gestapo Mars (7 page)

I exploded into Meredith’s stateroom, lunging for the rest of my tuxedo. The idea of being half-dressed while I was taken prisoner by aliens didn’t sit well with me.

“They’re boarding us.”

“I know.” She was slapping a gyro-jet magazine into an enormous assault weapon. With the black jumpsuit, the calf-high action boots, and the weapon, she looked like something she’d probably seen in a cheap adventure movie.

“Put that away,” I told her as I put on my shoes. “You can’t fight the whole gunship.”

“I’m not letting a bunch of alien rapist scum take me alive,” she said.

“If you can convince them you’re pro-resistance, we might have a chance,” I said. “If their war is against the Reich, as opposed to humans in general, we might be able to talk our way out of this.”

She reluctantly stowed the gun back in the weapons locker behind her bed. I think she was disappointed at missing a chance to fire the thing.

I finished tying my tie, smoothed the wrinkles from my tuxedo, and walked into the ship’s main cabin to await the aliens. There were more grating metallic sounds on the other side of the airlock, thumps as they positioned. They’d probably rush in with a shock squad on the chance they’d encounter resistance. I didn’t blame them.

“Stand back,” I told Meredith, “and give them room to secure the ship.”

Her hand came up suddenly and she grabbed my arm. There was a new anxiety in her eyes, and it struck me as odd to see worry in the woman who’d displayed such confidence before.

“I’m scared,” she said. “It’s one thing to play revolutionary from the comfort of my own mansion…”

So there it was. The real woman under the bravado. I nodded, covered her hand with mine.

“We’ll keep it diplomatic. Don’t give them any reason to shoot.”

She nodded back at me, tried to smile, but it died on her face. She was afraid. It was that simple.

There was a sharp, abrupt grinding sound and the door slid open. The Coriandons rushed in and around us, shouting orders to keep our hands where they could see them. It was difficult at first to tell how many of them there were. The Coriandons are oozing, green gelatinous creatures, and they sort of all mashed together as they gang-rushed us from the airlock. Their voices were high-pitched and gurgling. The leader at least had good English and didn’t bother with a translation box.

“I am Third Commander Xixleplop,” he gurgled. “This ship is now Coriandon property. We control this sector of space. You will submit.”

“This is not a Reich ship,” I said, chin up, trying not to look worried. “This is Meredith Capulet, a known supporter of the resistance. If you have spies on Luna, they will doubtlessly be able to confirm this. You have no quarrel with us.”

A gloppy arm erupted from one of the guards, stretched out suddenly, and hit me hard in the face with a gooey fist. I stumbled back and went down. When I touched my face, it was still sticky. I felt around with my tongue, and was relieved to find I still had all my teeth.

“Your diplomatic patter needs some work,” I said.

“All humans will submit,” Xixleplop said. “Regardless of politics. This is the new Coriandon Empire. All species who do not get on board and play ball will be deep-sixed.”

“That’s good.” I stood slowly, keeping my eyes on him. I didn’t want another wet whap in the face. “You’ve even got some of the idioms down.”

“Thank you. I studied English as a second language at Rutgers University via StealthBot,” Xixleplop said.

StealthBot would explain it. It would give a glob like Xixleplop a chance to remotely operate a human-looking robot, doing so from his home planet. I wondered how many other aliens were sneaking around in robot disguises. Something else to worry about—another time.

“Please,” Meredith said. “The resistance wants to overthrow the Reich. We can work together.”

“Silence, mouthy woman,” Xixleplop replied. “All humans will submit and be shackled in servitude, slaves forever to the mighty Coriandon. I know that probably comes off as a little over the top, but this is policy, direct from the home world.”

“You’re a gelatinous asshole!” Meredith snapped.

“
Silence
, or we will replace your brain with an obedient robotic processing unit,” roared Xixleplop. “It is an expensive and time-consuming process but very, very threatening!”

I opened my mouth to suggest that we all calm down, when suddenly the ship shuddered. We all stumbled, and Meredith grabbed me for support to keep from tumbling across the deck.

The Coriandons jabbered at each other briefly in their gurgle language, and I saw one of the blobs speak into a communication device. As he did, they began to back away hastily toward the airlock.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Several ships just dropped out of translight,” Xixleplop said. “The Reich have arrived.”

X
ixleplop ordered a single guard to stay behind and watch us while the rest of them made a hasty retreat back to their gunship.

“We must detach immediately, so the ship can maneuver,” the third commander shouted. In three seconds flat, they’d oozed back through the airlock, and I felt the vibration through the hull as the light frigate detached itself from Meredith’s luxury yacht.

The guard stood, utterly motionless, his sonic rifle leveled at us.

“Now what?” Meredith asked.

“That’s one hell of a good question,” I said.

The ship rocked again as something exploded brightly outside one of the bubble windows. We all went down hard, and I slid across the hardwood floor and smacked my shoulder against a table leg. I tried to push myself up, the ship still shaking and rattling, and my hand closed over something cold and hard.

I got up on one knee, took aim with Meredith’s Derringer Excalibur, and fired twice. The bullets lodged in the blob’s goopy midsection. There was a long second before the exploding tips detonated. The Coriandon exploded in a flash, his sticky goo coating every surface in the cabin.

Meredith wiped a dripping wad of green alien glop from her face.

“Gross.”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get to the cockpit.”

Three more near misses almost knocked us off our feet as we stumbled our way forward. In the cockpit, we dropped into the pilot and copilot seats and strapped in. The engines were out, but I knew we weren’t going anywhere anyway. I told the ship to bring up the scanner display and open hailing frequencies.

Our ship began listing slowly to port, nudged from its holding pattern by the near misses outside. The stars slid past slowly in front of us as two Reich zip ships screeched past, coming from behind us, the Swastikas on the rear tail fins clearly visible. The zip ships were two-man jobs about a third of the size of Meredith’s yacht, built for fast lethal strikes.

The yacht kept listing, and another vessel drifted into view.

Meredith gasped. “Is that the Coriandon ship?”

“What’s left of it,” I said.

The Coriandon light frigate spun a lazy circle to nowhere, blast points still glowing where the zip ships had shredded the hull with pulse fire. The glowing remains of what looked like escape pods drifted away from the ruined ship like fiery tears. The Reich wasn’t messing around.

I checked the scanner display. In addition to the zip ships, I counted six other Reich vessels. The carrier—from which the zip ships had obviously launched—three frigates, one heavy cruiser, and an enormous War Demon class battle hulk at least a half mile long, two detachable pocket gunships clinging to the sides like lampreys. Not a full fleet, but a potent little battle group, and they were arranging themselves into a holding perimeter, which meant they were expecting more trouble—or maybe just being careful.

The radio chimed, telling me someone in the battle group was responding to the automatic distress call. I told the computer to patch it through.

“Unknown ship, this is Reich frigate
Frankfurt
,” the voice crackled in the speakers. “Identify.”

“Private vessel registered to Meredith Capulet out of Luna. Thanks for arriving just in the nick of time,” I said.

“Do you have enough provisions for forty-eight hours?” he asked. “We are on high alert, and cannot take refugees, but a cleanup trawler will pick you up if you can hang on.”

I let time slow in the outside world, turned inward and let my brain work through all the permutations of the situation. Floating in deep space for two days with my thumb up my ass wasn’t an acceptable option. I decided a calculated risk was in order.

“Action code 616-A,” I told him. “Top priority.”

Meredith’s head snapped around to look at me.

“What’s
that
about?”

“It’s a long story.”

After a nervous pause, the guy came on the other end of the line and said, “Hold please. This has to work up the food chain. Don’t budge. There are about a thousand pulse cannons trained on you right now.”

“Check.”

The silence stretched.

Meredith pierced me with those deep green eyes. “Are you going to explain yourself, mysterious stranger?”

“No.”

“I don’t think I like you anymore.”

“I have that effect on people.”

* * *

At last, the radio operator came back on.

“A zip ship is coming out with a tow line,” he told us. “He’ll take you straight to the flagship.”

“Well, then.” Meredith sighed. “I guess I’d better change. Can’t meet the admiral covered in alien slime.”

* * *

“My men are already working on your ship,” Vice Admiral Ashcroft said. “It should be up and running within the hour.”

The admiral was a squat, balding little man who fit poorly into a slightly outdated dress uniform with way too much gold piping and a ceremonial saber which clanked and clattered in his wake as we walked down the corridor to the bridge of the battle hulk. He told us he’d been pulled out of retirement when the Coriandons had unexpectedly broken through in a dozen sectors. The Reich, it seemed, had been caught with its pants down, and it was scrambling to catch up.

“That light frigate managed to get off a signal before we pummeled it,” the admiral said, “so I don’t know what or when something might be dropping on our heads next. We’ll render any aid we can, naturally, but as you can see we’re neck deep in the shit. I have to get the carrier group off to guard the colonies in this sector. The battle hulk stays here to guard the wormhole. We’re spread way too fucking thin, let me tell you.”

When I’d sent the top priority action code, they’d checked with Gestapo headquarters back on Mars. All the admiral knew was that he was to help me any way possible, and not ask too many questions. The downside was that my cover was blown. Everyone on board knew there was an undercover Reich agent on the ship, and even though the admiral had ordered everyone to shut up about it, the crew couldn’t help but wonder who the spy was, and what he might be up to.

“I suppose we’d have more resources for the war if we weren’t constantly putting down resistance-spurred uprisings on distant frontier worlds.” The admiral tossed an accusing glance at Meredith. He wasn’t stupid—at least not completely. He’d run her name through the computer as soon as the zip ship had taken us in tow and brought us into the hangar bay.

“I’m a law-abiding citizen of Luna,” Meredith said flatly. “My political views are not illegal.”

“They’re not
helpful
either,” the admiral replied. “But please don’t worry yourself, Miss Capulet. We’ll make you as comfortable aboard ship as possible, after Mr. Sloan leaves to complete his mission.”

“Ah, yes.” Meredith shifted her cold smile to me. “On top of everything else, Carter…
Mister
Sloan intends to steal my ship. Insult to injury.”

“I’m
borrowing
it,” I insisted. “And if I don’t bring it back, it’s because I’m dead, so that should give you some satisfaction.”

Her smile tightened. “Heaven forbid.”

We walked onto the bridge, where a dozen crewmen bent over monitors and coordinated various activities, hopping from station to station. Through the front viewports I could see the frigates forming up to screen the carrier. It looked as if they were preparing to depart. The heavy cruiser was already on its way, its engines firing white-hot as it built up enough momentum to hit translight.

The admiral saw me watching the ships and said, “We’re on our own now, but don’t worry. The War Demon class battle hulk is the biggest thing this side of a hollowed-out assault asteroid.”

“I’m not worried about saving my own hide,” I said. “I’m worried about repairs to Miss Capulet’s yacht, and getting away in time to complete my mission.”

“Long-range scanners don’t show anything,” the admiral said. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen very—”

We all winced as a flash of white light flooded the bridge through all of the viewports. The carrier and its escorts had all jumped to translight. That left the system empty save for the battle hulk and the glowing wormhole in the distance.

“They’re off,” the admiral said. “God speed.”

“I know this is a busy time for you, Admiral,” Meredith said, “but is there a place I can freshen up?”

Meredith didn’t look like she needed freshening at all. She’d changed out of her goo-covered clothes into a form-fitting red jumpsuit, the front unzipped just enough to offer the suggestion her breasts might burst free and make a break for it. But I suppose it had been a long day. She probably wanted some rest.

My tuxedo had been ruined when I’d exploded the Coriandon guard, and I hadn’t brought a change of clothes. The admiral’s people had kindly provided me with a black jumpsuit. They’d removed the rank insignia, but there was still a modest swastika over the left pocket to remind everyone I was a member of the club.

“I’ll have a steward take you to your cabin,” the admiral said. “You are both, of course, invited to the admiral’s table for dinner tonight. Chef does an exceptional turtle soup, and for dessert—”

A young officer interrupted. “Admiral! I think you’d better look at—”

“At ease, Ensign!” the admiral snapped. “I’m talking to our guests.”

“But, sir,” the ensign squeaked. “Ships dropping out of translight!”