The Final Battle (16 page)

Michael trailed along behind Horda along passageways and down ladders. It was a confusing process. He commed Shinoda. “You copy all that?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Everyone’s been told to turn in and get their body temperatures up just in case we have to prove they have this swamp fever thing.”

“Just make sure they can get to their personal weapons in a hurry. We’ll have to move fast if border security finds something they shouldn’t.”

“We’re all set.”

Horda slapped a switch on the bulkhead, and a door opened. “Here we are,” he said. “Cargo Bay 6.”

They stepped through. It was a small space but big enough to make the consignment of mining gear look embarrassingly insignificant. Michael had already rehearsed his answer to the inevitable question: What’s so important about a pile of mining equipment that it requires an entire ship to itself?

The inner airlock door opened. A succession of jumpsuited figures entered the bay carrying search equipment. Horda went over to meet them. “Good to see you again, Lieutenant Hinjo,” he said, shaking hands with the first of them, his face lit up by a cheerful smile.

“And you, Ulrik,” Hinjo said. “Nice little charter you’ve got yourself.”

“The sort I like, Lieutenant: one client, one consignment, one destination, a simple drop-off and return.”

“And this is the client?”

Michael stepped forward. They shook hands. “Johannes Smuts, Lieutenant.”

“Mister Smuts.” Hinjo waved his team into action. With an ease born of long practice, they spread out, fired up their scanners and probes, and started to check the containers. “And what do you do?” Hinjo went on.

“I’m a technical support manager for BellMineTech; we’re from Kelly’s Deep. The Live-in-Hope mine is one of the clients I look after.’

Hinjo nodded. “We’ve been through the cargo manifest, and all seems in order. After all, mining equipment is mining equipment.”

Michael’s spirits soared, but only for an instant.

“But I must say I am curious to know what is so important, so urgent.”

“Live-in-Hope produces iridium-193, and thanks to the current, ah … security situation, demand has gone crazy. The mine has a serious problem with the AI process controllers running its stage 3 production system. They bought cheap AIs from somebody they shouldn’t have and are now paying for that mistake. This gear here—” Michael waved a casual hand across the containers. “—is what they should have bought in the first place, and until we get it all installed and set to work, they’re not producing so much as gram of iridium. It’s costing them a fortune in lost production.”

Hinjo nodded again. “If it’s all so urgent, why did you waste so much time on Scobie’s?”

“Ah, well.” Michael fixed a look of worried concern onto his face. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, Lieutenant, but I’m sure I can trust you not to let this go any further.”

“Of course.”

“We had a contractual disagreement with the client, a serious disagreement.”

“A contractual disagreement?” Hinjo said, his face twisting into a supercilious smirk. “They wouldn’t pay BellMineTech’s exorbitant prices, you mean. You people are all the same.”

Michael ignored the insult. “I think that’s an accurate summary of the problem, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Hmm,” Hinjo replied. He walked over to the containers, a finger to his lips tapping out his thoughts. “I think we should have a look inside, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Michael said, heart pounding. “Which one first?”

“That one,” Hinjo said, pointing.

“Can your guys give me a hand?”

“They’re busy. Get your men up to help, Mister Smuts.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Michael said, turning to cut off the customs seals. He pulled open the container doors to reveal a tightly packed mass of metal and plasfiber. “I don’t think they’d be much use. Swamp fever, apparently. Must say I don’t feel so good myself. Captain, do you have a handlerbot we can use? Some of this equipment is heavy.”

“We do,” Horda said. “Hold on, I’ll go—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hinjo said with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “Open the doors on every second container.”

“Thank you, Captain Horda,” Michael said under his breath as he set to work, trying not to feel even guiltier than he already did.

Wednesday, June 23, 2404, UD
SWMS
Matrix Starlight
, in pinchspace

“Everyone in position?”

“All set,” Shinoda responded.

“Go!”

Michael and Mitchell walked onto the
Matrix Starlight
’s bridge, a small compartment with two chairs and, an array of holovid screens and consoles with master and backup controls for all the ship’s systems.

“Ah, Johannes,” Horda said. “I was wondering—”

“Stay where you are, Captain,” Michael said, the stunner in his hand pointing right at Horda’s chest. “Mitch,” he went on, waving the marine forward to plasticuff him.

“Oh, dear.” Horda shook his head. He let out a long sigh and held out his wrists. “This is a first. I’ve never been hijacked. Tell me: Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Sadly for you, yes.”

“I can’t give you the command authority codes. You know that?”

“Don’t worry, Captain. I’ve brought my own.”

For the first time, Horda looked worried. “You can’t have.”

“Tell that to Mister Kalkuz.”

“Kalkuz? But he’s … oh, crap.”

“This way, please, sir,” Mitchell said to Horda. Shoulders slumped in defeat, the man allowed himself to be led over to the master console.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Michael stood beside the man. In theory, taking control of the ship was easy: Select the right menu, enter the master password, check Horda’s DNA and retinas to confirm his identity, then repeat to authorize Michael to take control, and the job was done. Taking another deep breath, he punched in the command authority code. Only when the screen told him to proceed did he allow himself to relax a little.
Poor old Kalkuz
, he thought, waving Horda to step up to be screened,
He could have stayed at home
.

In less than two minutes, the entire process was done. Michael was now the de facto master of the
Matrix Starlight
. “Take the captain to the saloon,” he said, putting a comm through to Shinoda.

“The ship is ours,” he said when her face appeared.

Shinoda let out a sigh. “That’s a relief. We’ve got the first officer and the chief engineer in the crew mess.”

“Any problems?”

“None. Quiet as lambs.”

“Okay. Send two of the guys to get Kalkuz and Akuna out of their boxes while I change the navigation plan. When I’m done, I’ll be with the captain. He deserves to know why this is happening to him and his ship.”

“Roger that.”

• • •

“Thanks, Mitchell; I’ll take it from here. But leave the door open and stay outside. If he tries anything—” Michael hooked a thumb at Horda. “—shoot him.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Michael reached over the table to cut the plasticuffs off Horda’s wrists. “I’m sorry about all this, Captain, but we can’t afford to take any chances.”

“You’re marines,” Horda said, sitting back and rubbing his wrists. “Aye, aye, sir, and all that.”

“My guys are. I’m a spacer.”

“You like to tell me what the fuck is this all about? Forty-six years I’ve been with Matrix, and this is first time anyone’s taken my ship off me.”

“I’m sorry about that; I really am.”

“Sorry?” Horda snapped. His cheeks flushed red with anger. “That helps.”

“I have my reasons.”

“I don’t give a damn for your reasons,” Horda said, his voice a half shout now. “You have no right to hijack my ship, none at all. I’d like to kick your ass.”

“I’m sure you would,” Michael said; Horda’s belligerence irritated him. “But it won’t happen. Now you’ve got a choice. You can sit there mouthing off at me, in which case I’ll throw you in one of the storerooms and leave you to rot, or you can shut your mouth, sit back, and let me tell you why we’ve taken your ship. Your choice.”

Horda choked back his response with an obvious effort. “Go on, then; tell me,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But I want the truth, okay?”

“You’ll get it. First of all, we’re not from Kelly’s Deep.”

“Didn’t think you were. The accent wasn’t right.”

“It’s hard to mimic. No, we’re Feds.”

“Feds?” Horda’s eyes widened. “In that case you’d better tell me what this is all about, Johannes.” He stopped and stared at Michael for a moment. “Wait,” he went on. “Smuts isn’t your real name, is it?”

Michael grinned. “No, it’s not. I’m Michael Helfort,” he said.

“The Michael Helfort? I thought you looked familiar, but I just couldn’t work out why. I’ve seen you on the news. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I am.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Sit back and I’ll tell you as much as I can,” Michael replied.

• • •

“… and like I say, I’m sorry we have to destroy your ship, but given what’s at stake, I don’t think I can afford to be too sentimental.”

“Easy for you to say,” Horda muttered; his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’ve been
Starlight
’s captain for twenty-two years. I hate the thought of what you want to do to her.” He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You know the worst of it?”

“No, what?”

“I’m Scobie’s born and bred. I loved the place … once. But now?” He shook his head. “I hate it. I’ve watched the Hammers turn the place into a cesspit with their corruption and sleaze. I never go dirtside anymore. This—” He waved a hand around the saloon’s well-worn paneling. “—is our home now.”

“You said ‘our.’ Your first mate and chief engineer; they feel the same way you do?”

“They do. We might not own the
Starlight
…”

Thank goodness for that
, Michael thought.
I feel guilty enough as it is.

“… and I know she’s old and might not look much to you, but this is our home, and now you want to destroy it.”

“I wish there was—”

Horda put a hand up to stop Michael. “You don’t have to say it, son. If it’s any comfort, I hate the Hammer too. Doesn’t stop the hurt, though.”

Michael nodded; he did not trust himself to speak.

“So,” Horda went on, “what’s the plan and how can we help?”

Michael stared at the man. “Help?” he said. “You want to help?”

Horda shrugged. “Why not? I can’t change anything, and to be honest—” He looked around. “—maybe it’s time I moved on. Matrix was taken over last year, and the new owners are way too close to the Hammers for my liking.”

“How does the rest of the crew feel?”

“Marty hates the management. They think he spends too much on the old girl. It’s bullshit, of course. He only spends what he needs to keep her safe, but they don’t see it that way. Money’s all those bastards care about. They’ve been making his life a misery.”

“What about Rajiv?”

“He’ll go with the flow. Always has.”

“So what will you do?”

“It’s strange, you know,” Horda said, looking away at something that existed only in his mind. “We were talking about that only the other day. We’d just done a run to Vatuna-6. Nice place. Lots of jobs for guys like us … and no Hammers within hundreds of light-years. So who knows, we might go there.”

“Well, I hope it works out for you.”

“It will. Not sure about you guys, though. I’ve heard a lot of dumb ideas in my time, but what you want to do is just plain crazy.”

“Needs must, Captain. Believe me, if there was another way, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“And what makes you think what you’re doing will work for you?” Horda asked.

Why is the bastard looking so smug all of a sudden?
Michael wondered with a twinge of concern. “Oh, don’t worry; it will,” he replied, forcing himself to sound both relaxed and confident.

Horda shook his head. “I’m sure that’s what Kalkuz told you, but did the asshole tell you that Matrix ships have a backup protocol to validate all changes of command?”

I don’t like the sound of this
, Michael thought, concern turning to alarm. “What backup protocol?”

“Oh, dear.” Horda shook his head. “Kalkuz is not a man you can trust. I could have told you that.”

“Don’t screw me around,” Michael spit. “If you’ve got something to tell me, then tell me.”

“You have to repeat the entire process within two hours. If you don’t, you’re locked out and stay locked out. The
Starlight
will only do what we tell it to do.”

“Shit!”

“And it gets worse. Next time we drop into normalspace, the ship automatically broadcasts a message telling every man and his dog there’s been an attempted hijack. That will bring the cavalry, I would think. Let me see … yes, our next drop is when we cross Brooks Reef, so it’ll be the Hammers who turn up.”

Michael’s guts had turned to ice. He cursed his stupidity. Not only had Horda just blown his last chance to get back to Commitment clean out of the water, now he knew more about his plans than he should. If Horda opened his mouth …

“Now, young man,” Horda went on. “We have eleven minutes left before you lose control of the
Starlight
forever, so—”

“If you fuck me around,” Michael snarled, “I will kill you and the rest of your crew. There’s way too much at stake here.”

“I’m not sure you’re the natural-born killer you’re pretending to be, but noted,” Horda said; he did not look even slightly concerned.

“Captain!”

“Oh, all right. I’d like to help any way I can. Of course, that means you have to trust me, but since I have you by the balls, I don’t think you can afford not to, do you?”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, I am, but only because I don’t like people taking my ship away from me. No, no.” Horda’s hand had gone up to forestall Michael’s angry response. “I understand why it’s necessary, I really do, so don’t waste time repeating yourself.”

“Fine.” Michael tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Give me a minute, Captain.”

He stepped outside the saloon and put a comm through to Shinoda. “You following this?” he asked her when she came online. The tension on her face was obvious.