The Catalyst (Targon Tales) (20 page)

“Yes. There was nothing left. We took out the two attack ships. Caelyn, I’m so sorry! We did tell her you were alive and that we’d try to find you. She was worried about that.” Nova faltered. What could she possibly say to him that would make any of this better?

“Drackon,” he said tonelessly.

“Probably.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “And the Naiyad is gone, too, then. There was only one left. So you have the last of the catalyst.”

She nodded.

He turned and left the main cabin for the crew quarter.

“Caelyn,” Nova called after him.

“Leave him be,” Seth said.

She sighed. “He must feel terrible.
I
feel terrible.”

“Leave him. They have their ways of dealing with things like this.”

She nodded. “I’ll get our equipment ready. I don’t suppose we’ll need weapons on Naiya. Did you check the air tanks?” She busied herself, checking things they’d already checked, her thoughts on Caelyn. It always seemed to come down to civilians. Killed, dispossessed, tortured, enslaved. She had seen it on Bellac, on Nebdan, and any other place to which she had been assigned. How often had she met people, come to like them, only to have them disappear from her life again? A transfer to another base, a missile lobbed, it was all the same. They had rescued Caelyn only to put him into great danger again. Acie and Vincent risked their lives every time they worked with Seth. Would they still be on Magra if she returned there? Nova abruptly set down the air hoses she was sorting, went into the cockpit and leaned down to kiss Seth.

He opened his eyes. “I deserved that, I’m sure.”

She smiled. “And more.”

“Incoming message,” he said suddenly.

Indeed, a low and persistent sound emitted from the com console, demanding their attention. Nova stepped closer to it and opened the channel. “Dutchman,” she said, in an unknown part of space and in conversation with people who required no formal identification.

“About time,” she was greeted.

“Having tea still. What do you want?”

“A bit more speed out of you. Why are you crawling along out there? Where’s Kada?”

“Busy.”

“Tell him to get his crossdrives motivated. Drackon is about ready for an embolism if we don’t get this gate open.”

Nova and Seth exchanged glances. “Will be about an hour, standard time,” she said.

“We’ll send a welcome party, Dutchman.”

She frowned. “We don’t need a tow.”

“Drackon insists. It’s the polite thing to do. Base out.”

Nova closed the channel before cursing. “Why are they sending an escort? There just isn’t any way we can stall around until Caelyn cracks that breach if they’re shepherding us.”

“What luck. Drackon is still there,” Seth said thoughtfully. He grinned. “Looks like we’re going to have to land, after all.”

Nova perched on the co-pilot bench. “You’re thinking something. Possibly something terribly irresponsible. Am I right?”

“Yes. Go dress like a rebel.”

* * *

“That thing is massive!” Nova exclaimed, looking up at a real-vid presentation of the view outside the Dutchman. “For a rebel outpost, anyway.”

Before them, a mismatched assembly of vehicles had formed a base station in what appeared to be absolutely nowhere. Three carriers were connected by platforms and several zero-gravity tunnels to form one continuous habitat. They faced inward so that their landing bays as well as the launch chutes for rebel fighter planes, the agile and deadly Shrills, offered easy access. Several lift planes of cruiser class were locked to the bays, no doubt transporting supplies and personnel. The nearest, even marginally habitable planet was not even accessible in real-space from here.

The Shrills that had been sent out to bring them to the station veered away, leaving them all a little more at ease when the weapons lock indicator before them dimmed again. Even the heavily-shielded Dutchman would not long withstand a sustained attack by such a swarm of fighters.

“This thing must cost a fortune to maintain all the way out here. We probably paid for every piece.” Nova pointed at the screen. “Look, those relays are Union military issue.”

“Dutchman, when you’re done prancing around out there, pog into Seven.”

“Just taking a tour,” Seth replied. “What a lovely home you have out here.”

The reply was an oath that made even Nova wince.

Caelyn, back in the co-pilot bench, shook his head, resigned to the company he was forced to keep. “If I ever see my beautiful planet again I am going to have to enter into a year-long retreat just to get all of you out of my system.”

“Are you clear on the keyhole?” Seth asked. Caelyn had rejoined them this past hour, looking relaxed and composed as he always did. Nova, often at odds with her own temperament, marveled at this composure. Famously a Delphian trait, this ability to veil their emotions underscored the cold detachment that others often found plainly irritating. Today she realized the value of it.

“Yes, the Dutchman is locked on. It’ll take me a while to open the breach and of course we’ll actually have to get there.”

“How did I know you’d find the flaw in my plan?” Seth said. He eased the Dutchman into the assigned landing area and they prepared to exit. A few armed rebels, mostly Centauri and Feydan, were in the bay, watching suspiciously when Nova and Seth emerged with their prisoner.

Nova stepped out first, an unpleasant sneer on her face. Her easily-identifiable hair was drawn back and covered in a tight wrap which she had then topped with an interesting cap found among Seth’s things. Like him, she wore leather trousers, heavy boots, a plain, sleeveless black shirt showing well-toned arms and a fake tattoo that Seth had patched on just for fun. Both of them displayed a full set of side arms.

Caelyn was back in his prison rags, his hands tied and his face expressionless. Nova had insisted on disheveling his hair which now frayed from his normally neat braid to hang over his face and shoulders.

“Delivery for Drackon,” Seth said casually.

A Centauri came closer, his weapon ready. “You can leave the Delphi with us and be on your way back home.”

Seth’s eyebrows twitched into a fleeting frown. He glanced at Nova.

“Not till we get paid,” she said. “A thousand flash mods for Pe Khoja is what we’re picking up.” She tipped her head toward the Dutchman. “Start loading up.”

“Nothing was said about that,” the Centauri said. He signaled to one of his men. “Get Drackon.”

They waited silently, uncomfortably, while the man went on his errand. Nova did not dare to even look at Seth but leaned against a bulkhead, looking bored and, she hoped, tough. Some of the nearby female rebels, all of them Centauri, looked truly frightening to her.

It was some time before the Colonel entered the corridor to the airlocks, looking as irritable as when Seth had last met him. Several armed men walked by his side. Nova peered at them closely to see beyond their civilian dress to detect the bearing of trained soldiers. How many of these rebels were not actually rebels?

She strolled over to Seth when Drackon arrived. He handed her the strap tied to Caelyn’s cuffs but she did not move out of earshot. She did take care to keep her face out of the Colonel’s line of sight.

“I was not about to let this rabble know that I’m carrying a thousand flash modules,” Drackon said to Seth, his voice low. “You’ve taken care of that quite nicely and good luck to you with leaving here with them, no matter what Pe Khoja wants now. They are aboard my ship. Take them if you can and be gone.” He looked up at Caelyn with proprietary interest. “That the spanner?”

Caelyn glowered at him, making no effort to disguise his loathing. His tone, however, was civil. “I must formally protest. Delphi will be outraged over this. You cannot expect me to cooperate in any way.”

Drackon was unimpressed. “You’ll see things my way sooner or later, protest all you want.”

All four of them turned when a woman rushed into the corridor from the main concourse. “The base is on alert,” she informed them, a panicked edge in her voice. “A Union fleet has dropped into real space from the Feydan sub-sector and is on a direct course here. Estimated time of arrival is in six hours.”

Drackon paled. “A fleet? What fleet?”

“One battleship and three Eagles, but it’s the
Zoya
out of Targon. One hundred Union fighters but her armaments are beyond anything we can handle. If she gets past our Shrills we don’t stand a chance here on this platform.”

Seth whistled in appreciation. “Well, looks like you won’t need us anymore,” he motioned to Nova to lead Caelyn back toward the Dutchman. “We’ll just be on our way.”

“Don’t even think about it,” a heavily armed Centauri interjected. He gestured toward the Dutchman. “You two are going to get back on your plane when the fleet gets here and saddle up with the rest of the crew. Is that understood?” He turned to his men. “Don’t release the docking clamps until we’re ready to launch.”

Seth shrugged. “Always ready to serve the cause.”

The rebel’s eyes shone with contempt. “Don’t play games, Kada. Just remember how Tharron feels about cowards. Be here and ready to go when called.”

Drackon grasped Caelyn’s cuffs and shoved the Delphian toward his men. “Put him to work with the other spanners. I’ll be along in a while. He’s going to join the chartjumpers out near the keyhole. I want that gate charted within the next two hours. If he decides not to cooperate find a way to convince him.”

Nova glanced worriedly at Seth as Caelyn was led away. The Delphian looked equally frightened when he looked back over his shoulder until one of his guards cuffed him sharply to move him along.

Seth and Nova followed when the Colonel started to walk away. “And the modules?” Seth said under his breath, not wanting to lose sight of Drackon.

Drackon laughed. “What good are they to you? You don’t actually think you stand a chance against that fleet?”

“No, but I stand a chance of making a run for it when Air Command arrives. Is that not also your plan?”

“Of course it is,” Drackon said dismissively. “Best thing Carras can do is send his boys here to blow this heap of junk out of the sky. It’s just a bit earlier than I had in mind. But it’s making my job a whole lot easier. Not that I’m going to wait around here to watch that happen.”

“You’ll never get the Delphi to cooperate,” Seth said. “I know a fair bit about them. They can come up with a sort of trance that can pretty much make them take any amount of pain. At worst, your thugs will just stun him to the point of making him totally useless for working on your site.”

“We’ll see. Unfortunately for him, I don’t have time to find another spanner. Go back to your ship and mind your own business. We’re done here.”

Seth cursed under his breath when he and Nova walked back to the Dutchman. A few of Tharron’s people were about, arming the available cruisers for the battle ahead. The Centauri leader among them stood near Seth’s plane. “Make sure you’re ready to do your bit, Kada. I know you’ve got the guns we need for this.”

“We’ll be ready,” Seth assured him. He reached around Nova’s waist and pulled her tight against himself. “Meanwhile, we’re going to get busy with other things. So don’t you be bothering us for the next couple of hours.”

Nova punched his arm. “Hours. That’ll be a first,” she laughed and winked lewdly at the Centauri.

Once inside the Dutchman, both Nova and Seth connected to the ship’s interface to scan the installation. “Find anything?” Seth asked after a while.

“Nothing. Can’t tell anyone from anything here. Isn’t there anything about a Delphian that would show up differently on the sensors?”

“Not really. Their body temperature is about two degrees cooler but I’m not getting any of that. Too many people running around, getting ready for the fleet coming in.” He reached up to switch an overhead screen to create a physical map of the awkward conglomeration of ships and spare parts that made up this base. “What a mess,” he sighed.

She nodded. “Empty rooms, halls going nowhere, lifts that don’t work, access tubes going every which way. It’s a wonder the whole thing hasn’t collapsed by now. He wouldn’t be in the hangers, so that leaves those areas out. That there looks like residentials. If we assume everyone in the hangers is fighting detail, then maybe we can also assume those people there are not, so either command level rebels or support staff.”

“Meaning the cartographers.”

“Well, or cooks, cleaners, med techs…”

He grimaced. “We’ll have to head over there ourselves. This isn’t getting us anywhere. We can’t let Drackon force Caelyn on board one of his charting vessels. We’ll never get him back in time.”

“I hope they’re not beating him to get him to cooperate. He’s probably never had to deal with that before. I feel awful for dragging him into this.”

“Celessa and her people dragged him into this,” Seth said and got up from his bench. “Delphians belong on Delphi, not mixed up with rebels and traitor Union officers.”

“There were some sharp Delphian pilots on Bellac,” she said. “Not on my squad but I heard about them. They’re not all scientists and flute players.”

“Used to be,” he said. He shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, just not happy with how this is going. Let’s split up. We’ll head in opposite directions around the perimeter of the base. Keep your com link open.” He watched her tuck a communicator behind and into her ear. A faint ticking assured them that their link could not be overheard by another device. “If you find him, bring him straight back here if you can. We’ll hide him in the ceiling until it’s time to go.”

She nodded and turned to the door but he caught her arm. “Listen, we have no room for error now. If you get back here and things get dicey, take the Dutchman and go for the keyhole. Don’t wait for me.”

“What do you mean? I can’t jump that thing by myself!”

“Caelyn can. You just hold the Dutchman steady, if it comes to that.”

She searched his face, worried. “What’s going on in that renegade brain of yours?”

“I can’t leave here without at least trying to nail Drackon. It has taken too long to get here. If he escapes now the entire operation was for nothing.”