Gridlinked (45 page)

Cormac went on. 'How long do you think Pelter will… let me sweat?'

'The longer he leaves it, the more it will work for him. Your men will be tired, less alert. But he does want to kill you rather badly. I'd say two days at most.'

'Now tell me why I should believe you.'

Stanton looked down at the floor for a long moment before replying. 'Pelter has a large quantity of money with him. I intended to relieve him of it once I found a way round Crane.'

'Crane?'

'Mr Crane. The broken Golem. Watch out for him. He was a Twenty-five, and now he's armoured and very tough. You wouldn't believe what he's capable of.'

'I would,' said Cormac. 'I have two Golem Thirties with me.'

Stanton stared for a long moment, then a slow smile broke out on his face. 'Won't Pelter be surprised,' he said.

'Tell me about this money. That's not like you, John. You've had ample opportunity to rip Pelter off.'

'That's what Jarvellis said.'

'jarvellis?'

Stanton told him, and Cormac made his decision. He couldn't wait for Pelter. He needed to resolve some things now before Dragon got impatient and threw a tantrum that many of those on Samarkand might not survive. He took up the two Enropower boxes from under one of the bunks, and then left Stanton where he was. Outside the carrier he turned to the soldier.

'Get back on that gun. The call I'm just about to put out does not apply to you.'

The man nodded and quickly ducked back inside the carrier. Cormac tucked one of the boxes under his arm and pulled his comunit.

'I want all of you into the camp right now,' he said, and then walked to where Mika was working on Scar. He saw that she had been forced to use wire to pull together the rent in Scar's tough hide. The dracoman seemed unconcerned. Cormac wondered if an anaesthetic had been used, if one had even been needed. He dropped the two boxes at his feet and looked around as they all came in.

Thorn, Aiden and Cento were the first to join him, all three of them carrying energy weapons, then the sergeant with his six remaining men. When they were all gathered round, Cormac studied mem for a moment before speaking.

'Right. There's another group out mere who may attack. We stay here and they can come in at their leisure. I know their leader, Arian Pelter, and am certain that any plans he's formulating revolve around an attack on us on the ground. Especially as those plans will be dependent on the broken Golem he has with him, one Mr Crane.' He shot a look at Aiden and Cento, but could discern no reaction. 'I'm not prepared to wait for that attack. I came here to do a job, and I'm going to do it. Sergeant, I want you and your men up as spotters and as a first line. I want you, with another man on the turret guns, to take up the carrier and circle the perimeter of the ruins. The rest of your men will operate outside that perimeter, as before. If it looks like anyone is coming in, you inform me immediately and then we form our response to the nature of the attack. This is where Pelter falls down: he can't do that. He's ruthless, but stubborn to the point of idiocy. He'll stick with a plan to the end. We - ' Cormac gestured to Cento, Aiden and Thorn,' -will be going in on sky-bikes. If we come out in a hurry you get to the ground and under cover. Your main concern then will be self-preservation. Any questions?'

The sergeant shook his head.

'Very well, get going.'

'You want me out of the way,' said Mika.

Cormac nodded and turned his attention to the draco-men. 'Dragon wanted you here. You have been useful, but I cannot see what purpose you might serve now. Do you have any suggestions?'

The dracomen stared at him in silence.

'Very well, Mika, take them with you and stay with that AGC. If we run, be ready to come with us back to the runcible. Let's go.'

The men broke and headed off into the surrounding trees. Cormac stooped down and picked up the two boxes at his feet. By men the sergeant was already in the carrier. There was a low thrum of AG and a backwash of dust as he took it into the sky. Five sky-bikes followed him up. Cormac gestured to the three with him and walked over to the two remaining sky-bikes.

'There been any movement in the ruins?' he asked

Aiden replied, 'No movement, but the Maker is certainly in one of the underground silos. Viridian reported a change in energy levels last night during the attack, but that was all.'

'OK, we'll land as close as we can get and go in on foot. I want some idea of what we're dealing with. That at least.'

'We're dealing with the thing that killed Gant,' said Thorn.

Cormac studied him speculatively before going on. 'We're still operating on the premise that what Dragon told us is true. I don't like that, but those are my instructions. We'll try the proton guns first. I don't want to be responsible for levelling a heritage site just yet.' He glanced at Cento and Aiden. 'You two can fly them. Thorn and I will go pillion. If there's any kind of attack, take us down into the forest on the other side.'

The two Golem mounted the sky-bikes. Cormac placed the two boxes in a pannier before mounting up behind Cento. As Cento lifted the bike into the sky behind Aiden and Thorn, Cormac wondered at the Golem's lack of comment.

'Do you have a problem with what I'm doing?' he asked.

'I have no problem. The mission is paramount and you cannot wait for an attack that may or may not come.'

'Then it's the broken Golem, isn't it?'

Cento took a moment to reply. When he did reply his voice was flat and characterless.

'If there is a hell for us, then that is where this Mr Crane is.'

Z

I 
have to state categorically that I believe in him. The
Quince Guide
(which I do not believe was compiled by humans; more likely it was compiled to mislead humans) has it that he is a mythical character comparable to Robin Hood or King Arthur. Let's look at the legend. He is supposed to be immortal, and supposed to possess powers the like of which enabled him to survive the destruction of his home city of Hiroshima. He is supposed to have meddled with human destiny, and to still be meddling… Oh hell, I'm rambling. The plain truth of the matter is that I believe in him because of his name. For Chrissake, what myth-maker worth his salt would come up with such a ridiculous name for someone who is practically a demigod? Horace Blegg, I ask you…

From
How It Is
by Gordon

Jarvellis woke feeling sick, but not from pain or injury. It struck her as ironic that here she was, a starship captain without a ship, and suffering from space sickness. Her condition, she supposed, aggravated the sickness. But the main reason was that she was too soft these days. It had been, as far as she could recollect, nearly five solstan years since she had experienced weightlessness. What need was there to experience it when every ship and station had gravplates? What need was there to experience its antithesis, when AG could waft a ship into orbit? Even visiting heavy-G worlds was not a problem. She either stayed in the ship or in areas adjusted to Earth gravity. With such thoughts she occupied herself as she fought nausea, and wondered when the Outlink-ers would be back to take her out of this damned frame. It was Tull who returned first. She could see that something more than her dangerous presence was worrying him. He came in and hovered over her, inspecting the sealed wounds. After a moment he went to inspect a readout on the medbot.

'Will you let me out of this?' Jarvellis asked. Tull stared at her long and estimatingly. Til be careful of you,' she added. Tull made no move to release the clamps. Some of them were through to bone, and Jarvellis felt no inclination to fight them.

'I cannot contact the surface,' said Tull. 'Understandable,' said Jarvellis. 'You weren't much further from the EM pulse than me. It'll have knocked out your com.'

Tull nodded thoughtfully. 'I have cameras that track all objects that might represent a danger to this station. I've just looked at the replay.'

'Quite a firework display,' said Jarvellis uneasily. 'Yes, planar explosives unless I miss my bet. By the vector of the explosion, I would say it hit your under- space engine. My concern is why you would have such explosives onboard.'

Jarvellis found she just did not have the energy to lie creatively, so she kept her mouth shut. Tull pushed himself away from the frame and she tried to follow, with her eyes, where he went. He was out of sight only for a few seconds when something touched against the back of her neck. Numbness rolled down her body. Nerve-blocker. Everything bar the autonomics inclusive of breathing and heartbeat was shut down below her neck.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

'We are not uncivilized, Captain Jarvellis, but we are very aware of our fragility, as you know. I can only assume by your silence that you have been involved in something illegal, and that perhaps you would want to avoid talking to the ECS investigators when they eventually come up here.'

'Look,' said Jarvellis, 'just let me go. I won't cause you any problems. I've been through too much already.'

Tull came back into view. Jarvellis heard the clamps snapping off her body. To one side of Tull she saw a line of small ruby peas coiling away. Tull wiped them from the air with an absorbent pad. The cell-welder hummed briefly.

'That's it,' he said. 'I've given you two pints of synthetic blood so you shouldn't experience too much dizziness or nausea. The clamp and probe holes may be a bit sore, but they will quickly heal.'

'Then you can take the blocker off,' Jarvellis said.

'Not until I'm sure that myself and Jeth are utterly safe,' he replied.

'You're going to keep me like this until the investigators get here?'

Tull shook his head. 'I told you we are not uncivilized.'

Jarvellis felt herself drifting from the frame. Tull was propelling her to the door.

'It won't take me long to run a diagnostic and initiate another dish. In fact our transceiver will be back on line within the hour. It may take some time for the investigators to get here. For a ship blown in orbit with planar explosives, I should think we'll get someone from Earth. Nerve-blocking, for any length of time, can become a very unpleasant experience. There is also the chance that it might damage the innocent life you carry.'

He had her to the door now, and then through it. To her right the little robot had appeared and was swinging along with her.

'Are you sure about this?' she heard Jeth saying, but she could not see Tull's wife.

'Oh, I'm sure. Laser burns through her suit, planar explosives… we know what that means,' said Tull.

Jarvellis wondered what he would say if she told him how she had actually received the laser burn. Best not -he might keep her blocked for her own safety, and the safety of that 'innocent life', rather than for that of himself and his wife.

Soon Tull had her in the elevator and had pushed her to what would be the floor in the outer ring. Now she could see that Jeth was holding a bundle of clothing and a bag filled with blocky items. The Outlinker pressed these down beside her.

Tull said, 'When you reach the outer ring, Sam will remove your blocker. After that all the elevators will be shut down. Now, there are service tubes you could find to get back here, but be aware that, should you try that, we will immediately leave the station, so you'll achieve nothing.'

Jeth said, 'Here's food and clothing.' She pointed to these items and turned away guiltily.

'I wouldn't have hurt you,' said Jarvellis. 'I've never hurt anyone.'

'Yes,' said Tull, stepping back with his wife, then closing the elevator door on her.

Jarvellis considered what she had just said. It was true: personally she had never inflicted injury on anyone. What concern was it of hers what people did with the weapons she smuggled?
They
were the criminals. She was just trying to make a decent profit. That was all right, wasn't it?

Weight returned and pulled her head down onto the worn decking. The elevator door slid open and, as it did so, feeling returned to her body. Jarvellis sat upright and looked down at Sam. The little robot held the nerve-blocker in one three-fingered claw. It held it up above itself as if frightened she was going to hit it and so was demonstrating how it had helped her. She looked to the bundle of clothes and the food. The latter was out of the question at the present. The one-quarter G that dispelled space sickness was pulling at and twisting those places where she had been cell-welded, and where the clamps and probes had been pulled out. She now effectively felt as if someone had methodically pinched over her skin with a pair of pliers. She reached for the clothing: disposable underwear and deck shoes, a soft cloth shirt and padded trousers. With hands that did not seem to have any grip in them she slowly dressed herself. Once this was done she felt better, and began to think what the future might hold for her. Her prospects did not seem much better than they had done outside. Now though, she was beginning to feel hope. Maybe John was not dead yet. Maybe, even if he was, she could get to that bastard Pelter. Maybe she
could
live.

'Please take the bag and step out of the elevator, Captain,' said Tull over an intercom.

Jarvellis did as she was told, faintly amused that the intercom had crackled like the one in the
Lyric
, only this intercom crackle was genuine.

'The cabins to your left you will find comfortable. We maintain them for visitors from the surface.'

She headed in that direction, wondering where Tull might have positioned pinhead cameras, then it occurred to her that the EM pulse might have knocked those out as well. Any systems on the outer ring of the station, unprotected by its bulk, would have gone down, and the little cameras were prone to do so. Then again, maybe there were no cameras. She was assuming he might be as paranoid as herself. She stopped at a door and pressed one of the two square buttons beside it. A buzzer sounded inside. She pressed the other button and the door slid open. At the threshold she paused; she might well be walking willingly into her own prison. She shook her head and stepped back. When the door closed again, she squatted down and opened the bag.