Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series (39 page)

Peskova turned and smiled at him contemptuously. An awful, smirking smile. ‘Why split
hairs? Anyway, that little shit deserved what he got…’

Chen shuddered violently. Then, without thinking, he lunged forward and grabbed Peskova,
forcing the man’s jaw open, thrusting the handgun into his open mouth. He sensed,
rather than saw,
Auden move forward to stop him, but it was too late – he had already pulled the trigger.

The explosion seemed to go off in his own head. Peskova jerked back away from him,
his skull shattered, his brains spattered across the wall behind like rotten fruit.

Chen stepped back, looking down at the fallen man, Then Auden had hold of him and
had yanked him round roughly. ‘You stupid bastard!’ he shouted into his face. ‘Didn’t
you understand? We needed him alive!’

Chen stared back at him blankly, shivering, his jaw set. ‘He killed my friend.’

Auden hesitated, his face changing, then he let him go. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Yes.’
Then, angrily, ‘But we’re even now, Kao Chen. Understand me? You saved
my life downstairs. But this… We’re even now. A life for a life.’

Chen stared at him, then looked away, disgusted. ‘Even,’ he said, and laughed sourly.
‘Sure. It’s all even now.’

Ebert was waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp.

‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Where is he? I’d like to see to him once more, before we send
him on. He was a good officer, whatever else he’s done.’

Chen looked down, astonished. A good officer!

Beside him Auden hesitated, then met his Captain’s eyes. ‘I’m afraid there’s no sign
of him, sir. We’re taking the place apart now, but I don’t think
he’s hiding in there. One of the guards says he flew off earlier this evening, but
if so it wasn’t in his own craft. That’s still here, as Kao Chen said.’

Ebert turned on Chen, furious. ‘Where the fuck is he, Chen? You were supposed to be
keeping an eye on him!’

It was unfair. It also wasn’t true, but Chen bowed his head anyway. ‘I’m sorry…’ he
began, but was interrupted.

‘Captain Ebert! Captain Ebert!’

It was the communications officer from Ebert’s transporter.

‘What is it, Hoenig?’

The young man bowed deeply, then handed him the report.

Ebert turned and looked back towards the west. There, in the distance, the sky was
glowing faintly. ‘Gods…’ he said softly. ‘Then it’s true.’

‘What is it, sir?’ Auden asked, knowing at once that something was badly wrong.

Ebert laughed strangely, then shook his head. ‘It’s the Lodz garrison. It’s on fire.
What’s more, Administrator Duchek’s dead. Assassinated thirty minutes
back.’ Then he laughed again; a laugh of grudging admiration. ‘It seems DeVore’s outwitted
us again.’

Fei Yen stood there in her rooms, naked behind the heavy silk screen, her maids surrounding
her. Her father, Yin Tsu, stood on the other side of the screen, his high-pitched
voice filled with an unusual animation. As he talked, one of Fei Yen’s maids rubbed
scented oils into her skin, while another dried and combed her long, dark hair. A
third and fourth brought
clothes for her to decide upon, hurrying back and forth, trying to please her whim.

He had called upon her unexpectedly, while she was in her bath, excited by his news,
and had had to be physically dissuaded from going straight in.

‘But she is my daughter!’ he had complained when the maids had barred his way.

‘Yes, but I am a woman now, father, not a girl!’ Fei Yen had called out sweetly from
within. ‘Please wait. I’ll not be long.’

He had begged her forgiveness, then, impatient to impart his news, had launched into
his story anyhow. Li Shai Tung, it seemed, had been in touch.

‘I’m almost certain it’s to tell me there’s an appointment at court for your eldest
brother, Sung. I petitioned the T’ang more than a year ago now. But what post, I
wonder? Something in the T’ang’s household, do you think? Or perhaps a position in
the secretariat?’ He laughed nervously, then continued hurriedly. ‘No. Not that. The
T’ang would not bother with such trivial news. It must be a post in the ministry.
Something important. A junior minister’s post, at the very least. Yes. I’m almost
certain of it.
But tell me, Fei Yen, what do you think?’

It was strange how he always came to her when he had news. Never to Sung or Chan or
her younger brother Wei. Perhaps it was because she reminded him so closely of her
dead mother, to whom Yin
Tsu had always confided when she was alive.

‘What if it has nothing to do with Sung, father? What if it’s something else?’

‘Ah, no, foolish girl. Of course it will be Sung. I feel it in my bones!’ He laughed.
‘And then, perhaps, I can see to the question of your marriage at long last. Tuan
Wu has been
asking after you. He would make a good husband, Fei Yen. He comes from a good line.
His uncle is the third son of the late Tuan Chung-Ho and the Tuans are a rich family.’

Fei Yen looked down, smiling to herself. Tuan Wu was a fool, a gambler and a womanizer,
in no particular order. But she had no worries about Tuan Wu. Let her father ramble
on – she knew
why Li Shai Tung was coming to see them. Li Yuan had spoken to his father. Had done
what she had thought impossible.

‘I know what you’re thinking, Fei Yen, but a woman should have a proper husband. Your
youth is spilling from you, like sand from a glass. Soon there will be no more sand.
And
then?’

She laughed. ‘Dearest father, what a ridiculous image!’ Again she laughed and, after
a moment, his laughter joined with hers.

‘Whatever…’ he began again, ‘my mind is made up. We must talk seriously about this.’

‘Of course.’ Her agreement surprised him into momentary silence.

‘Good. Then I shall see you in my rooms in three hours. The T’ang has asked to see
us all. It might be an opportune time to discuss your remarriage.’

When he had gone she pushed aside her maids, then hurried across the room and stood
there, studying herself in the full-length dragon mirror.
Yes
, she thought,
you are a T’ang’s
wife, Fei Yen. You always were a T’ang’s wife, from the
day you were born.
She laughed and threw her head back, admiring her taut, full breasts, the sleekness
of her thighs and
stomach, the dark beauty of her eyes. Yes, and you shall have a proper husband. But
not just any fool or Minor Family reprobate. My man shall be a T’ang. My son a T’ang.

She shivered, then turned from the mirror, letting her maids lead her back to her
place behind the screens.

But make it soon
, she thought.
Very soon.

Karr drifted in from the darkside, the solar sail fully extended, slowing his speed
as he approached. His craft was undetectable – just another piece of space junk.

They would have no warning.

Twenty
li
out he detached himself and floated in, a dark hunched shape, lost against the backdrop
of space. As planned he landed on the blind spot of the huge ship, the curved layers
of
transparent ice beneath his boots.

He stood there a moment, enjoying the view. The moon vast and full above him, Chung
Kuo far to his right and below him, the sun between, magnificent even through the
visor of his suit. It
surprised him how much he felt in his element, standing there on the curved hull of
the starship, staring fearlessly into the furnace of creation, the void pressing in
upon him. He laughed
soundlessly and then ducked down, his movements slow at first as he climbed toward
the airlock, then more fluent as he caught the proper rhythm.

He slowed himself with the double rail, then pushed into the semicircular depression.
Beside the hexagonal door-hatch was a numbered touch-pad. He fingered the combination
quickly, almost
thoughtlessly, then leaned back as the hatch irised, its six segments folding back
upon themselves.

As expected, there was no guard. He pulled himself inside and closed the hatch.

This part was easy. He had done it a hundred, two hundred times in simulation. He
had been trained to do this thoughtlessly. But at some point he would need to act
on his own: to use his
discretion and react with immediacy. Until then he went by rote, knowing every inch
of the huge craft as if he had built it.

The airlock filled and the inner door activated. He went through quickly, his weapon
searching for targets, finding nothing, no one. But somewhere an alarm would be flashing.
Unauthorized entry
at airlock seven. A matter for investigation. Security would be buzzing already. There
would be guards at the next junction of the corridor.

Karr removed the two heat-seeking darts from his belt and pressed a button on his
suit. In seconds the ice of his suit was minus ten. He hurled the darts ahead of him
and raced down the corridor
after them.

Explosions punctuated the silence up ahead. The darts had found their targets. Coming
to the ruined corpses he leaped over them without stopping and ran on, taking the
corridor to his left and
going through the two quick-irising doors before he paused and anchored himself to
the ceiling, the short, securing chain attached to the back of his sturdy helmet.

He swung up and kicked. The inspection hatch moved but did not open. His second kick
shifted it back and he hooked his feet through, scrambling up into the narrow space,
releasing the anchor
chain.

Here his size was a handicap. He turned awkwardly, putting back the hatch, knowing
he had only seconds to spare.

He had cut it fine. He heard guards pass by below only a moment later, their confusion
apparent. Good. It was going well.

Karr smiled, enjoying himself.

He moved quickly now, crawling along the inspection channel. Then, at the next intersection,
he swung out over the space and dropped.

He landed and turned about immediately, crouching down then working his way awkwardly
into a second channel. This one came out at the back of the Security desk. Timing
was crucial. In a minute
or so they would have guessed what he had done.

Maybe they had already and were waiting.

He shrugged and poised himself over the hatch, setting the charge. Then he went along
to the second hatch. The explosion would blow a hole in the room next door to Security
– a sort of
recreation room. There would be no one there at present, but it would distract them
while he climbed down.

He lifted the hatch cover a fraction of a second before the charge blew and was climbing
down even as the guards turned below him, surprised by the explosion.

He landed on the neck of one of them and shot two others before they knew he was there
amongst them. Another of the guards, panicking, helped Karr by burning two more of
his colleagues.

Confusion. That too was a weapon.

Karr shot the panicking guard and rolled a smoke bomb into the corridor outside. Then
he turned and blasted the Security communications desk. The screens went dead.

He waited a moment. The screens flickered into brief life, showing scenes of chaos
in corridors and rooms throughout the starship, then they died again, the backups
failing. The inside man had
done his job.

Good
, thought Karr.
Now to conclude.

He went out into the corridor, moving fast, jumping over bodies, knocking aside confused,
struggling guards. All they saw was a giant in a dark, eerily glowing suit, moving
like an athlete down
the corridor, unaffected by the thick, black choking smoke.

He went right and right again, then fastened himself to the inner wall of the corridor,
rolling a small charge against the hull.

The spiked charge almost tore his anchorage away. He was tugged violently towards
the breach. The outer skin of the starship shuddered but held, beginning to seal itself.
But it had bled air
badly. It was down to half an atmosphere. Debris cluttered about the sealing hole.

He released the anchor chain and ran on down the corridor, meeting no resistance.
Guards lay unconscious everywhere. Many had been thrown against walls or doorways
and were dead or badly
wounded. It was complete chaos.

The engine was inside, in the inner shell. A breach of the hull could not affect it.

This was the difficult part. They would be expecting him now. But he had a few tricks
left to show them before he was done.

He ignored the inner shell airlock and moved on to one of the ducts. It would have
shut down the instant the outer hull was breached, making the inner shell airtight.
Thick layers of ice were
interlaced like huge fingers the length of a man’s arm. Above them a laser-protected
sensor registered the atmospheric pressure of the outer shell.

Karr unclipped a rectangular container from his belt and took two small packages from
it. The first was a one-atmosphere ‘pocket’. He fitted it over the sensor quickly,
ignoring the
brief, warning sting from the laser. The second of the packages he treated with a
care that seemed exaggerated. It was ice-wire: a long thread of the deadly cutting
material. He drew it out
cautiously and pulled it taut, then swiftly used it to cut the securing bolts on each
of the six sides of the duct.

The whole thing dropped a hand’s length as the lasers blinked out. There was a soft
exhalation of air. The sound a lift makes when it stops.

Karr waited a moment, then began cutting into the casing with small, diagonal movements
that removed pieces of the ice like chunks of soft cheese. As the gap widened he cut
deeper into the case
and then pulled back and set the thread down.

He climbed up onto the casing and kicked. Three of the segments fell away. He eased
himself down into the gap.

It was far narrower than he had anticipated and for a moment he thought he was going
to be stuck. The segments had wedged against the internal mechanism of the duct at
an awkward angle, leaving
him barely enough room to squeeze by. He managed, just, but his right arm was trapped
against the wall and he couldn’t reach the device taped to his chest.