Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4) (11 page)

“Why?”

“I have to be seen to be pulling off something worthwhile. I’ll record it on vid, so I can show it to my superiors later to prove to them it was worth doing. Part of that will be to talk to a rebel leader, so I can say I persuaded someone high up to work with me.”

“Maybe… but I don’t know if he’ll bite. How you gonna talk to him, anyway? The radio circuits are all jammed.”

“Not the real short-range ones, like they use for working parties on the hardstand at the spaceport. We’ve got a few of those radios here, too. They’ve got a range of only one or two kilometers in line-of-sight. If your boss comes here with one of them, I can talk to him using one of ours. Tell him Channel Nine.”

“I’ll
ask
him, but I ain’t gonna
tell
him nothing! We’ll see what he says. Whaddaya want?”

“Tell Métin I –”

“How in hell do you know his name?”

“We listened to your radio circuits this morning. We heard a lot of things. Anyway, tell Métin I’ll give him the whole damn depot and everything in it – supplies, weapons, vehicles, the whole lot. That’ll give him enough to supply all your attack groups for months, and give them better weapons as well. However, like I said, I’m under orders not to make any deals with you guys. If I do, they’ll shoot me for disobeying orders in the face of the enemy.” ‘They’ wouldn’t if his embryonic plan worked, but Steve hoped the rebels would accept his assertion at face value. “I need something that’ll give me a good enough reason to go against my orders and give you what you want.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want
all
your hostages, including the Eskishi personnel. If I ‘rescue’ all ninety-seven of them, I’ll be able to make the case that the deal was too good to turn down. Also, you’ve got to give us safe passage out of here. If you get the whole depot in exchange, you’ll be able to tell your big boss, Bairam, that the deal was too good to refuse. I reckon he’ll buy that.”

“Maybe. Not for me to say. What about the Eksalansari?”

“He was badly hurt in the crash of his shuttle. He’s in our sick bay right now. I’ll leave him in bed there when we hand over the depot. I’ll claim he was too sick to be safely moved, but he ordered me to make the swap to rescue his people. The Marines won’t know any different.”

“What if he says later that you’re lying?”

Steve raised his eyes to the sky, feigning pious innocence. “He was doped up with pain meds. I guess the poor guy must have forgotten what he said. I’ll have witnesses if I need them. They’ll say what I tell them to say.”

The man’s face broke into a grin. “That oughta do it. OK, I’ll tell Métin what you said. It’ll be his call whether or not to make the deal.”

“All right.” Steve glanced at his time display. “It’s almost sixteen now. It’ll take you a couple of hours at least to reach Métin at the spaceport, then get back here. I’ll have my people keep a listening watch on Channel Nine from eighteen onward. Bring one of the hardstand radios with you and let me know what he says. There’s one more thing. If we do the deal, it’s got to be fast. If it takes more than a few hours, the whole thing’s off. Make sure Métin understands that.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” The man’s tone was suspicious.

“Because you hit our satellite dish with those salvos you lobbed at us. Here, take a look.” Steve beckoned the man to walk with him to the gate. They looked through it, seeing Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear and a work party gathering up the pieces outside the commcen.

“I’ll have to repair it, or make a new one, before I can make contact with the Marines,” Steve explained. “If I can honestly say I couldn’t talk to them in time to get permission before making the deal, I can use that as another excuse to disobey my orders and hand over the whole depot. If they learn about this they’ll stop me dead in my tracks, so if Métin wants a deal he’d better get here with all the hostages before my comms to Marine HQ are restored.”

“Makes sense… I guess.” The rebel’s voice was dubious. “Trouble is, we can’t contact our big boss for his go-ahead. Métin may not want to make the deal without talkin’ ta him, but that’s his call. Don’t you try any tricks! If he decides to make a deal, he’ll bring enough of us with him to make you sorry you ever heard his name if you do anything stupid.”

“Why would I do that?” Steve pretended exasperation. “I want to get off this bloody rock! I was starting a liberty period a few hundred light years away when this mess blew up and I got dragged back to my ship. This isn’t my planet and I don’t give a damn who wins this fight. I don’t even care what the Marines decide to do. I’m a Spacer. Like the old saw says, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys’. The sooner I get the hell off this dirtball the happier I’ll be!”

The emissary’s face cleared. “I guess that makes sense. OK, I’ll tell the boss. The next move is up to him.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The rebel turned on his heel and jogged towards the point where he’d emerged from the bush, white flag still waving from the stick in his hand. Steve went back through the main entrance, signaling to the two Qianjin spacers on duty there to swing the doors closed behind him.

He beckoned Kinnear, who hurried over, and briefed him on the exchange. “I can’t just let our people be shot to doll-rags out there. I had to do something, and this is the best plan I could come up with on the spur of the moment.”

“You know that’ll violate Captain Davis’ orders, Sir.”

“Of course it will, but what’s the alternative? Do you
want
to have to listen to our people screaming and suffering and dying out there all night long?”

“No, Sir, of course not – but you surely can’t be going to give them the depot?”

“Not if I can help it! How far along are the Qianjin techs with the assembly of the hoversats?”

“The first one should be ready to fly within an hour, Sir.”

“Good. We’re going to need it.” He glanced up at the sky. Clouds were moving in, looming low and heavy against the western horizon and drawing swiftly closer. “Here’s what I think they’re most likely to do, and here’s what we’re going to do about it…”

~ ~ ~

The Eksalansari’s eyes were bulging in his bandaged head when Steve finished his explanation. “You surely can’t do all this without authorization from your superiors?”

“I don’t think I have any choice, Eksalansari. Yes, it’s going against my orders, but if I don’t our hostages will be slowly tortured to death. I’m not going to allow that to happen. The Fleet doesn’t abandon its own. What’s more, if this works we’ll also get back all of your hostages at the depot. When we do, we can put them to work at once.” He explained what he had in mind. “I don’t have any authority over planetary forces, but I’m guessing you can order them to do that.”

“Yes. I may be only a Second Lieutenant in our Army, but if I’m wearing the sunburst pendant of the Royal Family I can act in the Sultan’s name in an emergency like this, even if that means giving orders to officers senior to my military rank. I’ve only just been given the pendant, because I’ve only just reached my majority. This will be the first time I’ve used it.” The young prince grinned suddenly as he looked up. “Senior Lieutenant, formality is all very well in its place, but you’re senior to me in terms of rank and you have much more experience. Please use my name when we’re in private. I’m Iskander.” He held out his hand.

Steve took it, grinning. “I’m Steve. Thanks for the informality. I much prefer it.”

“Considering that you saved my life by getting me back here for treatment, and prevented the rebels using me as a hostage, I’d say you’ve earned the right.”

“That’s as may be. Anyway, back to our problem. Will you pretend to be more seriously injured than you really are, so I can show you to the rebels and convince them that you can’t be moved? That’ll help motivate them to make the exchange the way we want it. I’m sure they’re going to try to trick us, but I want to persuade them that we’re not aware of that. I need your help to do that.”

“And that’ll help you to free all the Eskishi hostages as well as your own?”

“I think it will.”

“Then I’ll do it.” The young man’s eyes hardened. “I’ll make sure the rescued hostages know to respect your authority, too. You’re the only commanding officer who’s managed to stop the rebels from taking over your post, not to mention rescuing me. That’s very creditable.”

“Thanks for saying that, but we were lucky.”

“Then let’s hope we stay lucky!”

As Steve hurried towards the commcen in the growing darkness, the first isolated drops raised puffs of dust from the dry ground around him. The scent of new rain began to rise, and he sniffed appreciatively before leaving it behind and stepping inside. “All right, what have you got?”

“You must be a mind-reader, Sir!” Kinnear grinned from the hoversat control console he’d erected in one corner. He and two others were seated in front of a bank of screens displaying what the small drone’s sensors were picking up. “They’re doing just what you said they’d do.”

“Show me on the map.”

“Aye aye, Sir.” The Gunnery Sergeant rose and turned to a table on which was laid out a hastily hand-drawn map showing the supply depot and the main features of the terrain for a five-kilometer radius around it. He pointed to it as he spoke. “It looks like twenty-plus rebels are forming an L-shaped ambush along the road to Surush as it passes through these woods. They’re taking up positions along the outside edge, with the short arm of the L at this curve in the road. They’re spread out enough that they can shoot up half a dozen transporters in convoy.”

“That’s what they expect us to use to get out of here. Next?”

“Their mortars are here, Sir.” Kinnear pointed to a rocky outcrop two kilometers away. “They’re set up behind this ridge, which blocks them from our line-of-sight. There are three mortars, spread in an arc ahead of a common ammo supply, here. They’ve got two-person crews and a security detachment – a dozen in all. Their camp is here, next to the ridge.”

“Any ammo at the mortars themselves?”

“Looks like three or four shells at each weapon, Sir. They’ll have an ammo party bring up more as they need it.”

“All right. The hoversat can take care of that problem for us. Next?”

“There are three buses stopped at the edge of the wooded area, just before it opens out into the brush that surrounds us. There are lots of people aboard them. I reckon that’ll be the hostages plus their guards. Another group of about ten is moving towards the place where that messenger came out of the brush earlier today. There are three more already there, presumably waiting for them.”

“OK. Métin is probably among the group moving towards us, because he’ll have to talk to me.” Steve looked at the map for a moment, considering. “Do you see any reason to change our game plan?”

“Not from here, Sir. I still can’t believe how you guessed what they’d do.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not difficult to put yourselves into their shoes, particularly given the hostages they’ve taken elsewhere. If I wanted to grab everything I could while giving away as little as I had to, I’d try to do something like this. They’ll pretend to give us the hostages in exchange for the depot, then as soon as we try to drive away they’ll ambush our convoy and capture or recapture all of us – or kill us if we show fight. Whether we live or die, they’ll have enough supplies to keep their rebellion going for weeks, perhaps months; and they’ll still have the most valuable hostage of all, the Eksalansari. It’s logical from their point of view.”

“I guess so, Sir.”

“You’ve recorded all this?”

“Yes, Sir. Audio, vid and comms recorders are running continuously.”

“Good. Think you can deal with that ambush?”

“I sure can, Sir. They may have combat experience, but they’re not Marines. You take care of yourself.” The Gunny offered his hand.

Steve shook it firmly. “And you do the same, you hear me?”

“I’ll be careful, Sir. There’s no-one else to keep an eye on you, after all!”

Chuckling, Steve watched the Gunnery Sergeant stride from the commcen. He was already wearing armor, needing only to don his helmet to be completely sealed against the elements. The sensors on the Marines’ armor would let them see as clearly in the pitch darkness as if it had been high noon outside. The powered spacesuits worn by some of the Qianjin personnel weren’t nearly so well equipped for terrestrial operations, but then they’d never been intended for use in such an environment. He was stretching their capabilities to the limit, but there was no choice.

One of the Qianjin techs stiffened. “New frequency activated, Sir!” He pointed to an oscilloscope on his console, which showed the sinuous wave of a radio transmission.

Steve hurried over. “What is it?”

“It’s not speech, Sir – looks like some sort of electronic sync code. There’s another!” A second oscilloscope trace joined the first. “And another.” A third trace.

“What do you think they are?”

“The transmissions must be circuit checks, Sir. They’re not very powerful, so they’re within two or three clicks of us at the most. Looks almost like they’re controllers of some kind, Sir – but there’s nothing out there needing a controller. We’re the only ones using that sort of equipment.” The tech’s voice was puzzled.

“Could it be a control console for something like a hoversat, perhaps? Are the rebels using a drone of their own?”

“I don’t think so, Sir. Hoversat comms are a different pattern, and on a single frequency. These are three different sync codes being broadcast on three separate frequencies.”

“OK, Spacer… Tung, is it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well done for noticing those transmissions. If you figure out what they are, and you think it’s important, get hold of me on my earbud channel ASAP. Listen on Channel Nine for a transmission from Métin and let me know as soon as he calls.”

“Will do, Sir.”

“Good. Remember, you’re my primary communicator tonight. Relay everything you see or receive from the Gunnery Sergeant, Ling and myself as quickly as possible. Your speed will dictate our ability to react to circumstances as they arise. We can’t make this work without you.”

The young spacer gulped, but his face hardened into resolution. “I’ll do it, Sir.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “I know you will. That’s why the Gunnery Sergeant selected you.”

He hurried to the guardroom. Kinnear was reorganizing the fire teams, forming Marine-only units for his special mission and leaving the Qianjin spacers to support Steve. He called him aside and warned him about the new transmissions.

“And the commcen has no idea what they’re about, Sir?”

“None.”

Kinnear frowned. “I don’t like that. Transmissions we don’t understand can come back to bite us in the ass.”

“We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open. Be careful out there.”

“Will do, Sir. You do the same.” He transferred his gaze to one of the Qianjin spacers. “Ready to do your part, Ling?”

“Ready, Gunnery Sergeant.”

“Then take up position with your people. Remember to stay low, so any watching rebels won’t notice you.”

As the spacer led six others out of the guardroom, Steve asked in a low voice, “Think they can handle it?”

“They’re pretty good shots, Sir. All of them are military reservists on their own planet, so I think they can deal with the pressure. Also, if you put this Métin off his guard, make him think everything’s going just the way he wants it, odds are his people will see his reaction and relax as well. That may make them freeze for a moment when things go wrong for them. It may give our spacers an edge.”

“I’ll do my best. In fact, that gives me an idea.”

~ ~ ~

Steve finished adjusting the turn-ups in the cuffs of the oversized utility coveralls and tacked them in place with a stapler, making sure the sharp points were turned outwards. He slipped on the coveralls and checked his freedom of movement. Satisfied, he slipped his epaulettes with rank insignia over the shoulder straps, then took a pistol from the table. It was an Eskishi weapon belonging to the Eksalansari – the only handgun in the depot, a civilian model known as a ‘pulser’, smaller than the bead pistols issued by the Fleet but using a similar electromagnetic mechanism. Steve grinned as he recalled the Dragon Tong weapons instructor who’d taught him to use such weapons many years before on the planet Vesta, before he’d joined the Fleet. Lin’s instruction had proved very useful in the past, and would probably do so again tonight.

He checked that the weapon was fully loaded and charged, applied the safety-catch, and slid it into a hurriedly improvised cloth vest holster beneath the loose fabric over his chest. He didn’t zip the coveralls closed but used their hook-and-loop fasteners to tack the left and right sides together, leaving a large gap over the center of his torso. Straightening, he tugged at the fabric until sure that the pulser wasn’t printing against the material and his hand could slip inside the gap to find its grip.

He picked up a flat bottle from the table and hefted it thoughtfully. It and two others on the table contained a local brandy made from fermented and distilled fruit, less smooth than the liquors to which he was accustomed but still quite palatable. The official stocks in the depot hadn’t included hard liquor, but several of the Qianjin spacers had grinned cheerfully and produced bottles when he’d appealed for anyone with private supplies to come forward.

His earbud communicator clicked softly, and he heard Tung’s voice. “The rebel commander is calling us on Channel Nine.”

Steve put down the bottle and picked up the short-range radio on the table, moving to the door and stepping into the compound. He raised the radio to his lips. “This is Lieutenant Maxwell on Channel Nine. Go ahead, over.”

A voice he didn’t know came back at him. “This is Métin. You wanted to deal. Here I am.” The tone was abrupt, suspicious. “You’d better not try any tricks. The hostages are aboard three buses we took from the spaceport. I’ve loaded each bus’s cargo compartments with command-detonated explosives. One wrong move and we’ll blow them sky-high. You hear me?”

Steve wanted to curse and spit in frustration. That explained the three unidentified radio transmissions they’d picked up earlier. The rebels carrying the transmitters had been testing the circuits.

“I hear you,” he said slowly as his mind raced. “There won’t be any tricks from our side. You hold too many aces. On the other hand, we’ve got some aces of our own. You’d better not try anything either, because if you do the deal’s off and you get no supplies at all. I reckon we can hold this depot against you for weeks if we have to. Your people saw this morning the kind of firepower we have available. Over.”

There was a brief pause. “How do you want to handle this? I’m not giving you any hostages until I’m sure you’ll hand over the depot with no tricks.”

“How about this? You come out to meet me halfway between the depot wall and the bush line. We’ll stand there together. You’ll be under the guns of my people, and I’ll be under the guns of yours. We’ll both be targets if anything goes wrong. We’ll stand there while I count the hostages – you’ll have to get them off their buses for that – and a couple of your people can verify that the Eksalansari’s in our sick bay. Once we’re both satisfied, we’ll make the exchange. Over.”

Another pause. “All right, but I’m not coming alone. I’ll bring a few of my people with me.”

“That’s OK with me. I’ll come alone, and bring something to keep us warm while we’re waiting.”

“OK. You move first. Come out halfway, and I’ll walk to meet you.”

“I’m on my way.”

He slipped the radio into the left chest pocket of his coveralls, where its bulge would help to disguise the pulser beneath the cloth, and went back inside. He put one of the brandy bottles into the cargo pockets on each thigh. The third bottle went into his right chest pocket. Taking a deep breath he turned back towards the door, reaching for his radio and adjusting the channel.

“Maxwell to all units. It’s showtime.”

~ ~ ~

The low, threatening clouds blocked the moonlight, but their cargo of rain was still falling only in isolated drops. Steve nodded to the guards at the gate to open it, then glanced to his right. Behind the shelter of the wall, out of sight of those outside, a fire team of Qianjin spacers waited, their rifles ready in their hands. He knew their comrades were deployed along the wall and on the roof of the administration building.

He walked through the gate, hearing it close behind him as he stepped forward into the lighted area surrounding the wall. The Qianjin spacers had rigged lights every twenty meters along the perimeter. Their illumination extended almost a hundred meters before fading into the blackness of the night. Steve took a pair of spectacles from his pocket and put them on, grinning slightly as he recalled being issued them on Midrash several years before. They looked like normal glasses, but offered night vision and other capabilities. Their built-in processor integrated their sensor input with ambient light, allowing him to see as well as possible under almost any circumstances. He’d found them so useful – particularly in detecting an assassin’s target beam, thereby saving his own life and that of his partner – that he’d managed to avoid having to return them after the operation, and carried them with him ever since.

He took the radio from his pocket as he reached the edge of the lighted area. He wanted to stay where the riflemen covering him from the depot could see their targets if possible. He keyed the microphone. “Maxwell to Métin. Here I am.”

The radio crackled. “I see you. I’m coming out.”

His enhanced vision showed him six figures moving out from the bushes towards him. He knew from the information provided by the hoversat’s sensors that as many more would have remained under cover, ready to open fire at the first hint of treachery. The little drone aircraft was now hovering silently near the mortar emplacements.