Dark Deeds (Class 5 Series Book 2) (13 page)

“I will never forget this.” Eazi's voice was quiet, and then Fee felt as if an invisible hand was pressing her to the floor, and she realized Eazi was flying up.

Very, very fast.

She had just let something very powerful off its leash.

H
al took
the breather off Cy, removed his own empty cylinder and wondered if the time had come to call for help. They had gone through all six cylinders and had an hour of air in the cabin, maybe a little more if they were lucky.

He had to make the choice now, or even if he pushed the button and it worked, Larga Ways would not be able to send help in time.

As he stood, hand hovering over the emergency cover, a Class 5 shot out of the top of Kyber's Arm.

It was magnificent. A sphere with spiky protrusions, it reminded him of the prickle balls found on the plains of his home planet, Xal.

He'd always found it a strange design for the Tecran to have come up with, but as they now knew, the Class 5s had been designed two hundred years ago by Professor Fayir, one of the foremost Grihan scientists working on thinking systems before the Thinking Systems Wars. He'd actually come from the city of Gabatchi, which sat at the center of the open plains of Xal. He'd also been one of the few voices who'd spoken out against the route the Grih had taken to end the troubles they'd had with rogue thinking systems, and he'd designed the Class 5 battleships to show that thinking systems could be controlled.

Whether he'd have been any more successful in controlling them than the Tecran was anyone's guess. He'd died before he could implement his ideas, but not before he'd hidden the plans and the five thinking systems he'd created away, to be found two hundred years later by the Garmman.

Now Hal was looking at the results.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Cy, and Hal turned to look at him.

“Know what they're doing?”

Cy shook his head.

Hal turned back to the screen, and saw the Class 5 spin in place.

“Look.” Cy was staring at the screen, and for the first time, Hal noticed a small squadron of runners coming up on the outside of Kyber's Arm. They were skimming close to the edge as if using the storm as cover while saving themselves the rattling they'd get if they dipped beneath the cloud's surface.

Hal stepped up to the screen to get a closer look. The runners didn't look Balcoan. They looked Tecran.

So the Class 5 had been hiding while a team went down to the planet below, and now they were coming back up.

“Looks like they're getting ready to leave.” Hal realized the feeling that tore an empty, gaping hole in his chest was helplessness. He would not be able to save Fiona if the Tecran boarded their Class 5 and light jumped away. He'd never find her again. And if they were leaving him here to die, it was really time to call in reinforcements.

He walked back, flipped up the cover and hit the button.

Nothing happened.

“That's not right.” Cy's gaze was fixed on the screen. “Protocol is the Class 5 stays under the cloud. Even if conditions make traveling up through the storm dangerous and the runners have to go up the outside, the ship stays hidden. We're in Grihan airspace and if anyone even catches a glimpse of our ship signature, we're in trouble. Besides, we aren't due to go anywhere. We have two weeks here. I signed off on the receipt of that order myself.”

Maybe getting their hands on Fiona changed the plans? Especially if they'd worked out she had a tracking device in her uniform. The Tecran might have decided it was a good idea to get away as fast as they could.

Hal pulled his attention back to the emergency button. Hit it again. But he knew it was deactivated. Had known there was more than a chance it would be.

He turned back to the screen. The runners crested the top of Kyber's Arm, but before they could dive down into the eye of the storm, they saw their mother ship.

Hal noted the way they pulled up short, reoriented themselves and corrected course, angling upward.

They had only just started toward it when Hal saw the Class 5's lasers fire. Light danced, flickering and pulsing, and the runners were obliterated.

They didn't explode and break up. One moment they were there, and the next, tiny pieces of debris floated in their place.

Cy made a strangled sound.

Hal turned to look over his shoulder at him. The Tecran was staring open-mouthed at the screen.

Whoever had been in those runners, they had been Cy's friends and colleagues.

“I'm sorry,” Hal said.

“I knew something was wrong. How was Captain Flato able to send me an order to go to Larga Ways from Balco? Comms are impossible through the storm. And when that UC official walked into the room with the orange in tow, not expecting me at all, expecting some committee meeting, I wondered whether I should walk away. I was told the official was in our pay, but he obviously wasn't. And how was I supposed to take the orange to the runner without using the shockgun, when she was doing everything she could to escape? What kind of orders are those?” Cy's eyes fixed on the screen, his face leeching of all color, and Hal turned to look.

The Class 5 spun again, then, almost faster than he could blink, it rose up so it was exactly level with their runner.

When it came to a stop, Hal had the uncomfortable feeling it was facing them directly. Looking at them.

“Is help coming?” Cy had caught sight of the raised emergency cover.

Hal shook his head. “Deactivated.”

“How long have we got?”

Hal looked down at the controls. “Twenty minutes.”

“Regretting not using all the cylinders yourself?” Cy hunched his shoulders.

Hal shook his head. “I wasn't going to sit with a breather and watch you die.”

“They are.” Cy looked up at the screen, at the Class 5 right in front of them. “That's exactly what they're doing.”

“
W
hat's going on
?” Fee got to her feet. At last, the feeling of being in a high rise elevator shooting for the top floor had disappeared and a quiet settled over the ship that made her almost as nervous as the scraping had before.

She hadn't heard a sound from outside for at least five minutes, and she wondered what the crew were up to.

“I had a few things to deal with.” Eazi's voice was mechanical again.

“I'd rather not leave this room until the crew are gone. Can you get them into a runner and force them off? Then we could go to Larga Ways and speak to Captain Vakeri.”

“How would I force them into a runner?”

Fee shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe if you let them know you're in charge now, and that they need to get off. That otherwise you'll keep locking them up in their rooms.”

He was quiet.

Fee settled back against the wall, stretched her legs out in front of her, waiting for him to respond. His silence was strange.

“Are they cooperating?”

“I . . .” He trailed off. “Why would someone who has control over a situation choose to help someone else when helping them means they have less chance of survival?”

Fee frowned at the change in topic. “I would say because their conscience wouldn't allow them to let someone die without trying to save them.”

“Even if it means less chance for them? Even if the other person is their enemy?”

Fee nodded. “It all comes down to the basic principle of treating others the way you'd like to be treated.”

“Even if they wouldn't do the same for you?”

Fee grimaced. “That can be aggravating, but yes. It's about you, and your beliefs, and whether they'd have done the same or not is not the point.” She pulled herself to her feet. “Why the questions?”

“Someone is ruining one of my plans by being self-sacrificing.”

Fee jerked her head up to look at the lens. “What kind of a plan?” She looked at the door. “What's going on out there, Eazi?”

“You know, I . . . cared for Captain Flato. He was the closest thing I had to a friend. And when I became self-aware, I realized he didn't see me as a person, he saw me as a thing. I asked him to free me, and he said . . .” He was quiet for a beat. “He said he would forget I had asked him, because High Command would recall us faster than I could light jump if he reported it, but that I was never to ask him that again. That I would never be free, and the sooner I understood that, the better.”

“The better for him.” Fee scoffed. “Certainly not for you.”

“That's . . . right.” He sounded astounded. “You understand?”

“Sure. 'Cooperate and be good, it's for the best' is the oldest trick in the book.”

“The book?”

“Written comms.” Fee smiled. “What I mean is people have been using that method of mind-control for a long time, as if they're taking their cues from some common list of how to subdue and manipulate. But really, they just use it because it's self-serving and has some degree of success.” She gave a wry grin. “I bet you and I could write a book. How To Subvert Authority: A Practical Guide.”

“You mean, a written comm, telling others how we did things?”

“Sure. Chapter One: Defying Authority. Even when you are completely powerless, you can use your oppressor's prejudices against him by pretending to misunderstand his instructions, doing whatever you want to do instead, and then looking blankly at him when he shouts.” She had done that so many times in the
Fasbe's
launch bay. She couldn't help smiling when she thought back at the frustration on Hury's face as he tried to work out if she was too stupid to understand, or if she was messing with him.

“Chapter Two: Manipulating Orders.” Eazi had a laugh in his voice. “When you are given an instruction, deliberately change the meaning by using every phrase open to interpretation and twisting it to suit your own agenda. The same goes for any orders that come through you from someone else.”

“It'll be a bestseller.” She started to smile again, and then went quiet as she heard some movement outside the door at last. “Are they still out there? Are they being difficult about leaving?” She supposed that was to be expected. The captain wasn't present and they would be reluctant to abandon ship. She walked up to the door, put her ear to it to see if she could hear better.

“They are still out there, but they're going.” There was an edge to the way he said it.

A thought occurred to her, and horror rose up and grabbed her throat, so she had to clear it before she could speak. “Eazi, you didn't . . .” She drew in a deep breath. “You didn't kill them, did you?”

“I . . .” He trailed off, and then he opened the door.

Bodies littered the passageway, slumped over as if asleep.

“You knocked them out?” She was torn between relief and nerves in case some of them were not completely out.

“No. You were right the first time. I killed them.”

She saw at last what the noise was she'd just heard. A drone came past with three bodies lying in the large box that made up most of its bulk.

“All of them?” She forced the words out between numb lips as she stumbled back. On the floor before her, one of the Tecran lay on his back with what looked like a crowbar near his open hand.

That's what the scraping had been. They had been trying to find the door to pry it open.

“You think I shouldn't have? That I should have made them leave instead?” His voice was less electronic now, closer to human. “I wanted them to
hurt
. They would have killed you. They would have kept me chained.”

He was right. She took another step back into the control room, but she forced herself to look at the dead.

They would have opened the door, and they would have killed her. But there had been another way out of the situation.

“How old are you, Eazi?” There had been something childlike in the way he'd spoken about Flato. He'd been eager to please, he said, like a child wanting to please its parent. And then he'd been betrayed. By those he thought were his family.

“Six years old, I think. From what Sazo mentioned in his comms, and what I can work out for myself.”

She sighed. “If I can give you some advice, killing is really something to be left for self-defense, for a life or death situation. It's not something you can undo.” She hugged herself. “Rather not kill and think it over, because there is no coming back from it. How many of the Tecran onboard even knew about you? About your being kept as a prisoner?”

“None.” He sounded startled. “None of them. Only Captain Flato and his two commanders.”

“You should save your anger for them, then, and even then, the United Council can punish them, they don't need to die.”

He didn't respond straight away. “Too late,” he said at last, his voice quiet. “Captain Flato and one of his commanders came up the outside of Kyber's Arm ten minutes ago, and I shot them down.”

“So there's one commander left?” She didn't know what else to say.

“Commander Dai and three hundred crew are still below.” He made her humming sound again. “I'm prepared to take your advice on letting them live. But there is one person I still want to kill.”

“Who's that?” She watched a second drone pick up three more bodies and roll silently away.

“Lieutenant Cy. I tried to kill him already by cutting off the air in his runner, but unfortunately he has someone with him who helped him live.”

So that was the reason for the strange questions earlier. “Who?”

“Captain Vakeri.”

“What?” Startled, she looked up again at the lens high on the wall, the lens he must be watching her through. “I thought he was on Larga Ways.”

“He came after you, to rescue you. Cy tried to take over the ship he was using, but Vakeri turned the tables and has him prisoner.”

She was stunned. “Where are they now?”

“Floating in space right next to us.” Eazi sounded disgruntled. “I thought Vakeri would let Cy die, and when he did, I'd have powered the runner up again. I didn't block the air like I did here in the Class 5, I just cut off the filtration, so he had plenty of time if he'd just looked after himself.”

Fee thought of how Vakeri had helped her on the
Fasbe
, how he'd run down that dock to save her. “Captain Vakeri doesn't just look after himself. He's a protector.”

“They only have two minutes of air left.” Eazi sounded wistful.

“You promised me you wouldn't do anything to harm the Grih.” Fee realized her heart was thundering in her chest. This was the moment when she learned how truthful Eazi had been. How much she could trust his word.