Morgan's Return (30 page)

Morgan stopped, her heart thundering. What the fuck? A woman wearing a Coalition Fleet exo-suit pointed a pistol at her. The face matched an individual in her personal personnel files. Ellen Cruickshank. Supertech.

"Ellen. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Cruickshank smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "Foul-mouthed as ever. Had to find me in your database, didn't you?"

What was this about? Where had she come from? Why was she here? The thoughts crowded together, one after another. "We weren't exactly friends," Morgan said.

"No, I suppose we weren't. You were too busy being best buddies with Admiral Makasa, or snuggling up with a hotshot fighter pilot."

Keep her talking. I might get some clue, but she's aiming that pistol very carefully
. "Not necessarily fighter pilots."

Cruickshank smirked. "No. You've branched out into foreign admirals, I believe."

So she knew about Ravindra. "Only one. What's it to you? Fancy him yourself?"

Cruickshank's nostrils flared. That hit home.

"I just might get my chance, Selwood." She almost spat the name, lip curled. "But you won't know about it. You see, I'm going to kill you." With the pistol still aimed at Morgan's chest, she pointed at a spot against the bulkhead. "Sit down, bitch. Before I kill you, I want you to know why."

Kill me? Me? Was she under orders from somebody? Makasa, maybe? Morgan sank down onto the floor, searching for a weapon, anything to fight back.
Keep her talking
. "I'd be interested to know why, too. What have I ever done to you?"

"Everything. Makasa's golden-haired girl. You could do no wrong, and me, he ignored. I'm as smart as you. No, smarter. And you're going to die, because you should be already dead, out there past Calisto's Veil."

"Calisto's Veil? Yes, I had a problem with
Curlew
, but we managed to fix it."

Cruickshank bared her teeth, her lips drawn back. "You fixed it? I don't believe you. You
couldn't
fix it."

A memory nudged. Cruickshank had been part of the test team. A junior member, sure. "Weren't you on the test team?"

The cruelty of Cruickshank's smile took Morgan's breath away. The woman was crazy.

"You were set up to fail. I adjusted the test results."

You bitch
. Rage surging up her spine, Morgan flung herself at Cruickshank. The woman took a step back, and fired.

***

R
avindra watched the monitors in the ship's hold, while the IS guided the transport into a bay. Partridge was nominally in the pilot's seat in case they had to speak to station control, but the docking proceeded without incident.

"It should be straightforward," Eastly said. "We don't need to go through immigration. We just walk onto the station, because this ship came from the planet." Even so, the tightness around his eyes betrayed his feelings.

"I wish we had some more weapons," Davaskar remarked as he checked over the laser pistol yet again.

The ship swayed. The outer screens showed the umbilicals snaking out from the dock; a docking corridor, lines. They hadn't asked for water or air.

Jirra bounced through the bridge hatch, waving a pistol. "I found this on the bridge."

Ravindra watched her tuck the pistol into her belt. Good. One more weapon. They had three pistols, two nerve whips, three laser-lances, a few pieces of corplast, and a knife between them. It would have to do.

"We'll be expected," Ravindra said. "But our advantage is that they are expecting two, provided the prison break hasn't yet been discovered. So we can assume a small party."

"Any word from Morgan?" Prasad asked.

"No." Ravindra had to admit her silence was starting to worry him, but there was nothing he could do. Morgan had set up the security so that any of their crew could get through, but no one else. They could at least get on board, provided she had the ship aired up. "We don't have time to wait. Jirra and I will go first. The rest of you follow in pairs, but not obviously. They must believe Jirra and I are alone. Be ready to act as soon as we're approached." One more thing. "Tullamarran, see if there's an exo-suit on this ship which will fit me if necessary."

Tullamarran bowed his head and headed aft.

"The hold, Tullamarran, hanging on the bulkhead," Jirra called.

The man returned, carrying a compressed package. "It adjusts to size,
Srimana
."

The hatch seals hissed. Time to go.

Prasad shared a look with Jirra.

Ravindra, Jirra, Prasad and Tullamarran entered the airlock first. Davaskar had been nominated to go with the two humans. No one said anything, but the tension was obvious, almost palpable in the air. They walked out onto the dock together.

"Good luck," Prasad murmured, squeezing Jirra's shoulder.

Ravindra and Jirra stepped onto the travelator which would take them to a lift foyer. One level up, and then right. Two other people stood in the lift when it opened. They shuffled into a corner to make room for the newcomers, then ignored them. When the lift stopped, the humans stepped out at the same level, but went left instead of right.

Ravindra loitered at a shop window to give the rest of the crew time to catch up.

"Do you think she's all right?" Jirra asked.

Ravindra almost jumped. He'd been wondering the same thing. Morgan still hadn't called. "I don't know. But first things first, Lieutenant." He caught a glimpse of Davaskar exiting the lift, and took Jirra's arm. "Let's go."

"Of course." Jirra walked steadily beside him, putting on an excellent act of innocence.

Two people loitered in the corridor, apparently examining goods on sale in a shop. If they weren't police he wasn't an admiral.

"
Srimana
…"

He inclined his head. Yes.

They reached the gate before the two police officers approached. "That'll do," the taller of the two said. "Put your hands on your heads. You're under arrest."

Ravindra did as he was told. Speaking in Manesai, he said, "If they touch us, take them out."

"Shut up, you. And turn around. Slowly."

Ravindra pivoted, turning like a dancer to face two large men carrying nerve whips. Two others had emerged from somewhere, also armed. Davaskar shot one, Prasad the other. The men facing them turned to look. Ravindra struck the man closest to him, punching him in the face with his right hand while his left deflected the hand holding the nerve whip, which discharged harmlessly into the wall. Jirra leaped into the air and used her feet. Her man slid to the ground groaning and clutching his genitals.

"Well done. Dead?" Ravindra asked Prasad and Davaskar.

"No. High dose stun. They should be out for long enough." Davaskar grinned, raising his pistol. "Want me to do the same to these two?"

"Yes."

Davaskar shot the two men while Tullamarran opened the gate. Between them, they pulled the police officers inside and fastened their arms with their own shackles.

Ravindra stared at the
sanvad
on his wrist. She still hadn't called. Maybe there was a problem. He pressed the speed dial. "Morgan?"

She answered immediately. "I'm busy. Go away."

Her voice sounded strained, abrupt. What in all the hells was going on?

***

T
he blast cut into Morgan's arm. Air hissed out before the suit resealed itself. Morgan clamped her teeth shut despite the pain. She wouldn't give the bitch the satisfaction of showing how much it hurt.

She didn't need Ravindra's interruption, either. "I'm busy," she growled in her head. "Go away."

"Makasa won't be coming to your rescue. And your boyfriend, and his companions, will walk into a security police ambush." Cruickshank chuckled. "It's just you and me. Oh, by the way, I've worked out how you've changed the drive on this ship. Very clever. And with you out of the way, it'll be my invention, my credit."

I won't be able to talk my way out of this one.
Cruickshank had everything to win with Morgan gone. And since Morgan was supposed to be dead, Cruickshank didn't even have to explain a body, as long as she destroyed it.

"Ashkar might want to know what happened to me. He's not exactly going to lie down and roll over. He might come bursting through that door at any moment." She deliberately stared over Cruickshank's shoulder.

Cruickshank laughed. "That's an old ploy. You don't expect me to fall for that?"

It had rattled her, though. Her heartbeat had sped up, just for a second. Maybe that was the germ of an idea.

"Sounds like you quite fancy my lover. I wouldn't presume to call him my boyfriend, he's certainly not a boy. He can be a total bastard, you know. Not nice at all. Except in bed." She smiled, conjuring up memories.

That got through. Cruickshank's eyes narrowed to slits. "You'll all die together. A pity, but there it is. I can still have him whenever I want him."

Where had that come from? This was a fantasy. Morgan wouldn't be surprised if Cruickshank had never had sex with a living, breathing man. Of course. Plenty of women used virtual sex with images of men they lusted after. That Playmate program? She'd heard about it, but she preferred the real thing.

"Got him in your collection, have you? Playmate?"

Cruickshank grinned. "Never you mind."

"Bet it's not like the real thing, though. Want to see?"

The cargo hold was fitted with a screen capable of 3D. It was more routinely used to display engine schematics but this time, Morgan concentrated on the connection, and built an image of Ravindra in Manesai full dress uniform. The white cloth almost shimmered against his dark skin, and the golden collar and rank insignia sparked in harmony with the glint in his amber eyes. He looked magnificent, a man of power and authority.

Cruickshank couldn't help herself, glancing at the display while trying to concentrate on Morgan. "Thanks. I'll add this to my database." Her voice sounded strained.

Morgan made sure the virtual Ravindra faced Cruickshank. Then she had him unfasten the collar so it parted, showing his Adam's apple. Now the next button, slipping the golden disk through the material with long, strong fingers. Now the next. And the next, until the coat hung open. He slid the arm off one shoulder, then the other, and let the coat drop to the floor, where it disappeared from the display. Now his skin-tight white undershirt, that clung to every muscle, defining his pecs and his abs. He pulled the material out of his belt slowly, a slight smile on his lips. She remembered when he'd done this, just for her.
Stop it, Morgan. Keep your mind on the job.
He lifted the material in his fists, dragged the shirt up his torso, revealing skin like polished mahogany. Then over the swelling pectorals, up over his head, until he could flick the shirt away. The golden lines of the tattoo on his right shoulder gleamed.

Cruickshank was positively salivating. "He has a tattoo?" The pistol wavered, pointing away from Morgan.

Morgan bunched her muscles, but Cruickshank recovered, mad eyes glinting. "Stop that."

One more try. Morgan shot a command at the cargo bay's ramp, which began to lower. Cruickshank's head jerked, her gaze shifting to the movement. Morgan launched herself, her injured left arm aimed at Cruickshank's right hand holding the weapon. The pistol fired, the heat sizzling past Morgan's shoulder into the bulkhead. Cruickshank fought to stay on her feet. She was slimmer, shorter, but Morgan's arm hurt. Cruickshank spun her around, struggling to raise the gun. Morgan tore the gun out of the other woman's hand. Cruickshank stumbled backwards toward the ramp. Behind her Ushas's bulk blazed bright against the blackness of space. Panting, Morgan advanced.

Cruickshank looked over her shoulder, glared at Morgan and dived out into space. Morgan raised the pistol but the suit's jets burned blue and Cruickshank jetted away.

Fuck fuck fuck
. They had to get out of here, and fast.

Morgan set the ramp to close, then ran, leaping through the hatch into the corridor and down to the engine room, calling Ravindra as she did so. "Give me a minute. Had a small problem, I'll call you back when we have air."

She didn't need his 'hurry'.

The valves weren't locked down.
Fuck it, the bitch must have played around with the IS.
Her IS. And without leaving a trace, too. Cruickshank was good, no doubt about it. Morgan fixed the code, taking out the redirection the other Supertech had inserted. Then she sent a command to the IS. Air. And make it fast. Then she called Ravindra.

"I've sealed off the bridge and the corridor onto the ship. Get yourselves in the airlock."

***

"S
he's done it." Ravindra couldn't hide his relief as pushed open the airlock door and stepped inside.

Seven of them was cramped, but there wasn't going to be time for two trips. Jirra's left breast pressed against him, despite her attempts to make herself small. They all counted up the rising air pressure. Thirty… forty… fifty percent. At last. The hatch opened with a loud click. Being first in, Ravindra was also first out. He ran, the pistol in his hand.