Mission Zero (Fourth Fleet Irregulars) (38 page)

They very nearly had him there when another man burst out of a bunkroom.  He was large and unshaven, wearing lurid satin pyjamas and carrying a handgun.  He was instantly recognisable as Rikado Marsh, the ‘passenger’ Alex had highlighted in the briefing as likely to be armed and dangerous.  He was already aiming and fired immediately at the armoured figures.  Two shots cracked out, blasting scorch marks onto the duralloy suits.  Then in almost the same moment, three rifles gave silent flashes of stun-bolt fire and the gunman collapsed. 

Two of the figures grabbed him, half carrying and half dragging the unconscious form between them.  A third suited figure collected the gun.  More voices were shouting by then and an ashen, petrified face looked out of a door only to duck back in with a shriek at the sight of them.

‘Skipper and one other secured.’  Buzz Burroughs reported coolly as he and CPO Martins handed their unconscious prisoner over to six more members of the team waiting aboard the shuttle.  The shuttle team were wearing ordinary survival suits.  They were not as resilient as the hullwalker armour and Alex did not want them going aboard the ship until he knew for sure what they were dealing with.  ‘One casualty.  Appears to be Rikado Marsh.  He took three stun shots,’  Buzz told the skipper, and seeing a paramedic checking the gunman out, ‘We’re keeping him under medical observation.’

‘Understood.’  Alex had tensed at the sound of gunshot, but was as controlled as always, his manner as calm as if this was another drill.  ‘Go for phase two,’ he said, and got an acknowledging ‘Sir’ from the Exec.

‘Command deck secured.’  Eighteen seconds later, Dan Tarrance and Elsa Nordstrom had hacked into the freighter’s computer system.  In moments, they’d installed a highly classified software that locked the Might of Teranor’s crew out of all systems while broadcasting a continuous feed of data to the Minnow.  ‘Arrest programme imposed, sir, the ship is under our control.’

‘Good job.’  Alex said.  ‘Go for phase three.’

With that, they went back aboard the ship to carry out a methodical seizure.  Buzz and the others in armour moved through the ship telling the Might of Teranor’s terrified crew that they were under arrest and moving them into the mess deck whilst at the same time checking them for weapons.  As each area was secured, the backup team took over to carry out a thorough search and forensic procedures.

That was going to take some time – several hours, in fact.  That, however, was not the only thing that was going on.  Alex wanted that container of drugs off the ship, just in case anything went wrong and they had to pull out.  As soon as he knew that they had control over the freighter’s systems, he authorised the gamma team to go ahead and get the drugs.

So the gamma team, in the number two shuttle, headed over to the freighter and attached magnagrip grapnels to the container.  With Dan operating controls on the command deck, they were able to release the container and take it under tow.  It was a heavy load for the shuttle but it didn’t have far to haul it, only a few seconds over to where the corvette was waiting.

Fleet corvettes were not intended to carry cargo containers and they’d had to have hullwalkers out for more than twenty hours to make the necessary changes to their hull.  They had rigged up more than twenty clamps and cables to receive the container on the half-deck in front of the hold.  Adding seventeen tons up there was going to make the ship handle awkwardly but their powerful thrusters could cope with that. 

Mako was so focussed on watching the precision with which they were lowering the container into place that he missed the fact that Alex had authorised their number three shuttle to go over and bring back the prisoners.  The first he was aware of that was when they were brought through the airlock.  Rikado Marsh was on a stretcher being accompanied by a paramedic and he was taken straight through into sickbay.  The Teranor’s skipper, still breathless and swearing, was still tape-cuffed but was set on his feet now that they were through the airlock.

He was not, it had to be said, a very impressive figure.  Nobody could really look their best snatched out of bed at that hour and certainly not a rather flabby middle-aged man revealed to have been sleeping in a pair of green underpants.  As the crew escorting him hustled him through onto the command deck, he was gaping like a beached fish.

‘You *#^%...,’ he swore viciously and then, as he saw the skipper, fell silent.

Alex von Strada just looked at him.  Everything that he thought about the Might of Teranor’s skipper was eloquently expressed in that glance of icy, withering contempt.  He didn’t even speak to him at first.  His whole manner conveyed that he had rather more important things to do right now than to attend to the utterly unimportant man in the unsightly underwear. 

And so he did, indeed, as he was watching the container of seventeen tons of drugs being secured on the hull of his ship.  Magnaclamps were engaging and as the shuttle was able to disengage, Martine Fishe reported, ‘Container secured, sir.’ 

At the same time, Alex was monitoring events aboard the freighter as crew and passengers were being herded to the mess deck.  Some were swearing, others blustering, demanding explanations, some obviously with no idea at all what was going on.  Buzz was handling it calmly, reassuring them that nobody would be hurt but at the same time making sure than none of them were armed.

‘All on the manifest present and accounted for, sir.’  Buzz reported, and with calm certainty, ‘The ship is secured.’

‘Thank you, Buzz.’  Alex said.  There would be time for debriefing and commendations later.  There would be time, too, for blood chilling moments as they looked at the scorch marks on Buzz and Martin’s hullwalker suits and thought about what would have happened if they’d been wearing ordinary protective suiting.  For right now, though, there was still a lot that had to be done so Alex contented himself with just one word.  ‘Excellent.’

Then
he looked at the Might of Teranor’s skipper, his manner coldly impersonal. 

‘Marlon Steppard,’ he told him, ‘I am arresting you on charges of being in possession of 16.72 tonnes of Class A prohibited drugs.  You are entitled to all rights pursuant to the Carpane Convention, under which you are advised to make no statement until such time as you have independent legal advice and representation.  I am required to inform you that your ship has been seized and that you, your ship, and your ship’s company will be escorted to Chartsey where you will be handed over to the authorities.’

Marlon Steppard stared at him.

‘Who
are
you?’ he asked numbly.

‘I am Skipper von Strada,’ said Alex.  ‘You are aboard the Fleet corvette Minnow.’

Marlon Steppard went grey.  ‘It’s
true
, then?’  His voice was shaking.  ‘
That’s
what the prisoners were for?’

Alex did not disillusion him.  That, he knew, was what everyone was going to think and he would be wasting his breath to attempt to convince them otherwise.

‘Take him for processing,’ he said, and with that returned his attention to what was happening aboard the Teranor.

Two personalities were already emerging from the mass of frightened and bewildered people.  One was the first mate, Kem Salmond, protesting against the outrage of the Fleet’s storming the ship.  He was blustering furiously.

‘Where’s your warrant?  I demand to see your warrant!  And what d’you think you’re doing, shooting a passenger?  I’ll see you all court martialled for this!  I’ll sue your arses off!  You’ll regret the day you ever…’ he ranted on, barely pausing to draw breath.

The other personality arising from the huddled mass was the engineer, Cass Bridewell, who also happened to be the mother of the youngest member of the crew.  There were, fortunately, no kids on the ship.  You didn’t tend to find kids living on the big corporate owned container ships.  They were more likely to be found on smaller, independent freighters.  Joss Bridewell, at fifteen, was the youngest on the ship, working as a deckhand while studying for a place in merchant service officer college.

It was very quickly obvious that either Cass Bridewell had known nothing about the drugs or that she was one of the galaxy’s best actors.  At first anxious only for her son, she turned on Buzz, then, just as angrily as the first mate, shouting at him that they’d come aboard the ship more like pirates than the Fleet, firing guns,
anyone
could have been hit! 

‘And what for?’  She challenged, wrathfully.  ‘A box of heavy tetracitrine?’  She confronted the large, armoured figure without fear, hands on hips, glaring up at Buzz’s blanked-out faceplate.  ‘Is that what the Fleet’s come down to now?’

‘No.’ Buzz replied.  ‘For a container full of DPC.  16.72 tonnes of DPC.’

She stared at him in blank incomprehension.

‘Don’t be damn stupid.’  She said.  ‘This ship does not run drugs.’  Her manner conveyed very effectively that she would not have anything to do with a ship that
did
, and her glance at her terrified son made it clear that she would not have allowed him to have anything to do with it either.

‘I’m afraid the evidence says that it does.’  Buzz said.  ‘We confirmed 16.72 tonnes of DPC in the container your shuttle picked up.’

The engineer told him, forcefully, that they must have made a mistake.

‘No
way
would the skipper do that to us,’ she insisted.  ‘No
way.’

 ‘It was forensically tested.’  Buzz told her.  ‘There is absolutely no doubt about it.  It is pure grade DPC.’

Cass Bridewell took that in and went white as she faced the reality that both she and her son had been implicated in major drug running.  She turned her head slowly and looked at Kem Salmond.  He, obviously knowing her a lot better than the Minnow’s exec did, held up his hands defensively.

‘It’s a mistake,’ he said, and when he could see that wasn’t convincing her, ‘I was told it was tetracitrine, I swear!’

Cass Bridewell didn’t say a word.  She just threw her fist straight at his mouth.  He dodged and blocked that, deflecting the punch with his arm, but he wasn’t quick enough to dodge her kneecap driving hard into his groin.  As he folded into a private world of pain, the engineer stepped back, holding up her hands as stun rifles aimed at her. 

That, however, was the last of the fighting.  Buzz got them all sitting down within a few minutes, with cups of tea to calm the situation down. 

It was evident though that they were already falling into three camps.  Those who were with the first mate, clearly relying on him to get them out of this, gathered around him, resentful and belligerent.  Those who were evidently with Cass Bridewell gathered on the other side of the mess deck.  They were upset but swearing they had no knowledge of the drugs and promising full cooperation with the authorities.  The third group consisted of a handful who were protesting their innocence too but were not believed by Cass Bridewell, getting a scornful, ‘Oh, yeah,
right
,’ from her when they tried to join her group.  They ended up sitting at another table on their own, hovering between the two camps.  Relationships between the three groups were obviously going to be hostile, but Buzz was able to report that crew and passengers were settling down.  The seizure operation had, so far at least, been a success.

‘Excellent job, everyone.’  Alex said, with the drugs now secured on Minnow’s hull and the Might of Teranor firmly under their control.  ‘Now all we’ve got to do,’ he observed, with a dry note in his voice, recognising that this in fact had been the
easy
bit, ‘is get them back to Chartsey.’ 

____________________

Chapter Thirteen

Half an hour later, the Minnow’s number four shuttle sped away to take the news of their capture to Chartsey.

This had been a problematical decision.  Mako had thought that once they had the Teranor under their control, they could move into the busy part of the space lane and send messages to Chartsey that way.  Liners would certainly pass by, and they had secure facilities aboard too for the transport of prisoners.  Mako had expected that they might even be able to transfer their prisoners aboard a passing liner, along with reports. 

In this, though, he had been enlightened by the crew.  They were in fact moving further
out
from the main shipping route, since the last thing they would want was to let it become known that they, a very small corvette, were carrying four hundred million dollars worth of drugs and had a quarter of their crew aboard the Teranor. 

The vast majority of spacers would be wholly supportive of the Fleet in making that arrest.  This was, however, a route to Karadon, famous for its smuggling and piracy.  If the wrong ship got to hear about the Teranor’s predicament, knowing how slow the freighter was and with the corvette already stretched to the limit in coping with such a big ship under arrest, they could find themselves with big trouble on their hands.

The skipper, at any rate, had made the call to move them safely out of shipping routes and to send their number four shuttle to Chartsey as quickly as possible to report the situation and ask for backup.  They would not get Zeus, of course, since the carrier could not leave the home squadron, but they might get one of the attached ships coming out to meet them.  With a bit of luck they might even get Falcon, one of the fastest destroyers in the Fleet.  If the shuttle was able to maintain L28 all the way to the capital and if they were lucky enough to get Falcon sent out straight away, they might have help in around three weeks.  They were going to have to work, though, Mako knew, on the basis that they might end up having to take the freighter all the way by themselves.  That was going to be a long, hard job.