The Price of Peace (31 page)

"What do we do about that security office?" the sergeant asked over
Tru's
shoulder.

"I don't think that will be any trouble," the supervisor answered. "My station is showing a fire in there. That set off the fire extinguishing system, and in a moment, we'll vent it to space." He swung around in his chair, grinning. "I always hated those smug bastards in security." Izzy chuckled. It had turned into a race; could the ships finish offloading their containers before the station was fully pacified? It ended in a tie. That left her with an extra thirty minutes to get her task force ready for combat. As all hands set about that, Major
Urimi
called.

"You all set?"

"Getting there," she answered. "And yourself?"

"Not as far along as we'd hoped. The station is ours, lock, stock, and barrel, with a lot of enthusiastic help from
Tru's
new contract employees. Still, there's little on the station about the planet layout. Found an advertising video, but it's three months out of date and doesn't show us anything about the command and control setup
dirtside
. We've got the high ground, but still don't know anything about the ground underneath us."

"You need to connect with Trouble and his brain trust."

"Right, but how? They've got no radios, and we can't very well go invading every drug farm down there, asking if they've seen a marine lieutenant. We're at a dead end again."

"They sent their only message up piggybacked on a GPS satellite. Any way you could send a message from a GPS?"

Tru
sidestepped into view. "GPS satellites send a continuous message. Stations react to those. They're pretty dumb."

"When Trouble was a hostage
dirtside
, he sent me a help message using three fires in a triangle. Anything that basic you could use?"

"What about Morse code?" came from Gunny just behind
Urimi
. Izzy didn't need marines to fight three cruisers; Gunny and his crew wanted their lieutenant back. "Could you turn the GPS signal on and off to send a message in old Morse code?"

"Does your guy know that old code?"
Tru
asked.

Izzy shrugged. "I have no idea. But if Gunny thinks it's worth a try, why not? I've given up guessing what Trouble does and doesn't know. Good luck finding him."

"Good luck to you, Commodore."
Urimi
took back center screen. "We're counting on you for a lift out of here."

"I won't forget, Major." Nor will 1 forget these damn pirates are probably carrying hostages like the last ones. How do I protect my own without murdering a lot of innocent people? "Ship's ready for departure," the ship's lieutenant, standing in for the exec, informed her. "Stan, you and Junior ready?"

"As ready as we'll ever be, Commodore."

"Fine.
Patton
will take the lead. Conform to my movements. Watch, all hands to underway stations."

There was only one way out of the garage for the tractor, so Ruth looked for another way. She was not about to parade herself down the middle of the compound for Zylon to shoot at like some cornered rat. "Trouble, how solid is that back wall?"

The marine checked it. "Don't see any supports." She fired the tractor up, backed slowly to the wall, and began gently to push. The wall bulged agreeably.

Trouble peeked through one of the cracked wall sections. "They're about a hundred meters away. Near the clinic."

"Climb in, boy, we're going for a ride in the country." She loved the lopsided grin he gave her as he settled down beside her. She gunned the engine, slipped the tractor into gear, and the wall of the garage came tumbling down.

The wrist unit squawked all kinds of shouts that boiled down to "Something's happening," but told nothing. Ruth slammed the rig into first and roared down the back alley, past the drug factory, heading for the fence. As Ruth and Trouble ducked shots, the tractor sideswiped a few buildings. Ruth didn't care. Now in high gear, she aimed for the fence. Never had she wanted so much to be out among growing things.

The fence went down with a crunch, and the tractor's wheels spun a bit as they shot across mud. She intended to race halfway down the newly cut rows, then
zig
over into tall dope. That would let them hit the outer fence unseen. Once they were past the lighted farm center, it was dark. She glanced at her GPS, counting on her own memory to tell her the coordinates of the fields.

"Trouble, what's wrong with the GPS?"

"Did we take a hit?" He glanced down at the locator unit. "It's working." "Yeah, but it's not supposed to be flashing on and off."

"It's telling you where you are." "Right."

"Drive," He snapped. She did. Still, his eyes were locked on the small, dim numbers, as if he were trying to make something out of this unusual system failure.

"You've never seen it go crazy like this?" "Never," she answered.

"There's a pattern to it. One long blink, then six short blinks. I could be starting in the wrong place. No there's breaks between some of the shorts.
Dit
,
dit
,
dit
,
dit
. pause,
dit
,
dit
, dash. No, a break before the dash. Hit. Hit?"

"Hit. Hit what?"

"It's spelling out H, I, T. in Morse code. Ancient stuff."

"As old as the three fires in a triangle you used back on Hurtford Corner?" "Somebody wants something hit or ..."

They said it in unison. "Hi, T."

"The fleet's here! Finally!" Trouble shouted. "What do we do?"

"Tell '
em
where we are."

"Once we're out of here?" Ruth knew she should have made that a statement, not a question, but she already knew from the way Trouble was thumping the fuel cans that when the Navy asked a question, Unexpected an answer "soonest."

"They got to know which farm to land at, where the people are like Tom and Steve. We got to answer here ... now."

There was a definite downside to falling in love with a marine. They did stupid things, and if you weren't careful, you ended up cheering them along instead of doing the mature, adult thing like telling them to shut up while you drive.

She slowed. Without a word, he tipped over a gas can, drenching the dead stalks on the ground. When one can was empty, he hollered, "Stop!" She did, left the tractor running, and got away from it quick. He doused the tractor, took a few steps back, and rummaged in the first aid kit for the lighter. She found herself grinning like a fool as he flicked it to life and tossed it at the tractor.

"Run!" he shouted. She already was ... heading for the tall dope. In the bright light of the burning tractor, it was easy to keep her footing. It was also easy to spot her. Shots rang out. Bullets slapped into the ground around her. Trouble caught up with her, tackled her, and slid her into the mud.

"No use getting yourself killed just before the cavalry arrives. Let's take it easy." "How long will it take?" she whispered back.

"Not long, I hope," he said, taking in the running guards, rifles out, grinning like they'd got them all by themselves.

"What was that?" Gunny pointed at the screen.

"Somebody's had a fire,"
Tru
answered, dialing in on the spot for further analysis. "Automotive fire, gas, oil, rubber. Must have hit a tree."

"That fire's got a tail." "So?"

"You've been sending Morse code on the GPS channel for half an hour. Now you got something unusual. Just a coincidence?"

"Looks like that to me,
Sarge
." "It's in farm territory."

"Yes. We haven't observed internal combustion technology anywhere else."

"Ma'am, tractors don't drive fast enough to explode when they hit a tree." The marine turned to Major
Urimi
. "Sir, with your permission, I'll drop my platoon on that location."

"Could be nothing."
Urimi
eyed the screen, neither persuaded nor opposed.

"Yes, sir, then it could be what we're looking for. Tomorrow morning, do you plan to scatter a brigade over farm territory looking for my lieutenant and a few civilians who might know what we're after?"

"I don't want to."

"Maybe I could save you the trouble."

"Sir,"
Tru
interrupted. "That fire is over the horizon now. I could study it more next pass."

"If the lieutenant sent us that message, we aren't the only ones seeing it. If we drop now, we can be there next orbit. Ninety minutes. If we drop next round, that's three hours."

"Ms.
Seyd
,"
Urimi
ordered quickly, "pass the sergeant all the information we have about the locale of the fire. Sergeant, let me know as soon as possible what you find."

"Yes sir." The sergeant saluted, then did an about-face. As he double-timed away, he growled into his
comm
link. "Boots and saddles, crew. Drop mission departs in ten minutes."

Tru
shook her head. "You sure you want to send him? I think he enjoys that stuff."
Urimi
smiled. "I wouldn't let him go if he didn't."

"Shuttle four has departed from the station. It's dropping into lower orbit or heading for a landing," Sensors reported to Izzy. She hoped Gunny and the platoon had a good lead on Trouble. Right now the ground problem was
Urimi's
. The space around Riddle had to stay in Navy hands, or the brigades wouldn't be invading anything in the morning, no matter what Trouble and his friends might know.

Three pirates wanted her space; she was headed for a fight. It shouldn't be much of one. Two professionally commanded and crewed warships should make short order of three irregular ships, even if they had once been cruisers just as deadly as the
Patton
. Her crew fought for loyalty to the Society of Humanity. Those bandits fought for money. A mental image of
Tru
hiring the network services team flitted across
Izzy's
mind's eye. Could she just offer this bunch a better employment contract and buy out the fight? She shook her head sadly.

The computer geeks might have no idea who they were working for. These guys were killers. They'd shot freighters out of space, lugged slaves from planet to planet. They were at the center of this cancer, its willing purveyors. These guys would fight, and if they surrendered, she would gladly hang them once their day in court was done.

No, this would be done the old-fashion way.

So how do I get their hostages out alive ? How do I separate those under a death sentence from the innocent? It was going to be one hell of a fight. Unless ... "
Comm
, send to Junior. Stan, I got another batty idea. You up to a masquerade?"

Thirteen

THEY DRAGGED TROUBLE and Ruth back to the compound; Trouble expected rougher handling. He didn't waste effort resisting. Everything he had—mind, flesh, soul—concentrated on keeping him and Ruth alive for the hour or two it would take a Fast Reaction Team to show up. So, he went limp and made them half carry, half drag him

through the field, across the compound, and past the crowd of field hands and vat girls to the brightly lit common between the guards' houses and the big house where Zylon waited.

"Took you long enough," she snapped. "Why'd you blow up the tractor?"

"Didn't blow it up." Ruth shook off her two guards and stood free to face Zylon. "Injectors were shot. I told you we needed a real mechanic to go over it. The damn thing blew up in our face. If you'd given us decent equipment, this farm would not only be making money hand over fist. I'd be long gone and you'd never have found us."

"Sounds to me like a good reason to do it my way." Zylon grinned. "But then, I always get my way. don't I, boys?"

That brought a series of snorts and laughs from the guards. Ruth shook her head. "You know this is stupid. Back on Hurtford Corner, my pa and the family bring in twice the crop with no whips, no beatings."

"Yeah, but where was the fun in it?" A voice from the guards cut her off.

"
Mordy
?" Under all the mud, Ruth went even paler than the glaring white light made her. "Your ex?" Trouble asked.

"Her ex.'' A smirking man, little taller than Ruth, hardly more muscled, stepped out from among the guards. "Long time no see, Ruthie."

"Not long enough. So this is where you went." "Lot more fun."

"Enough philosophy," Zylon snapped. "
Vahan
, get the long knives. Who wants first go at the girl philosopher?"

Two grinning guards stepped past
Mordy
, taking their shirts off. Trouble measured them, and didn't like the odds. Both had the reach on him. Probably more muscle on them. mixed with fat. They took him in and swaggered into the square with confidence.

"This will be a fair fight," Zylon announced with a total lack of sincerity. "After the boys kill this piece of trouble, they get the girl. You won't mind that,
Mordy
?" Ruth's ex shook his head. "If they yield to him"—she sniffed at that dim prospect—"he gets to spend tonight in my bed. with a new set of pods. You"11 like that." The smile she awarded Trouble would make a cobra flinch. He bowed in mock gratitude.

"I believe you're overdressed." Zylon pointed, and a quick flick from a guard's Bowie knife cut off Trouble's breechcloth. Trouble had plans for it, not modesty, but protection. The guard kicked it into the crowd before he could wrap it around an arm.

Ruth stripped off her shirt; her bare breasts glistened with sweat in the harsh light.
Mordy
cackled while the guards hooted their glee; the two across the square added leer to their broad grins. "Wrap this around your left arm," she ordered, handing her shirt to Trouble. "Where'd you learn that?" Trouble was glad she had, but he didn't expect that from a farm girl raised on a quiet planet like Hurtford Corner.

"
Mordy
brought a few of his star-wandering vices with him. Saturday nights could get real exciting if he found some young kids dumb enough to take him up on his dares."

"Hey, that's not part of the fight!" came from one of the two expectant thugs across the ring. The guard who'd cut off Trouble's excuse for clothes reached for the shirt. Trouble batted his hand away. His Bowie knife came up. Trouble kicked him in the gut. He sailed back into the crowd of watchers.

"No problem." Zylon cut the fight off. "It's not interfering with my view," she leered. At that moment,
Vahan
returned with a polished wooden chest. His mistress removed one of the gleaming blades. Ceramic composite, it gleamed wicked in the light. When she turned it edge on, it disappeared.

Trouble whistled low. Ruth's shirt wouldn't stop that blade. He didn't give it back to her; if Ruth didn't know what she was looking at, he didn't want to let her in on the secret. He was sweating enough for both of them.

Zylon put the knife back in the chest. Her lackey let the two bully boys have first choice. Trouble took the one left.
Vahan
snapped the case shut with the finality of a coffin. "They cut nice," he smirked. The marine passed up the temptation to use the flunkey's throat for a demonstration.

"Step back, Ruth." Trouble nudged her toward the edge of the ring.

"Oh, no," Zylon corrected. "She stays with her stud. Right, guys?" The guards roared agreement.
Mordy's
grin took on stellar proportions.

"Stay behind me, but not too close."

"I won't trip you up," Ruth assured him.

From across the lit square, the two advanced. Trouble went into a low crouch and danced out quickly to meet them. He wanted maneuvering room for this fight. The three met in the middle. For a long minute, they just eyed each other, knives weaving a threatening pattern. Maybe they too were getting used to the light weight of the blades. Almost too light; Trouble's hand hardly knew it held a twelve-inch extension of pure death.

The big one on the right made a thrust. Trouble backed up. The tall one on the left now stabbed out like lightning. Trouble was far from its reach; still he backpedaled again. The big guy closed the distance in two quick steps Trouble wouldn't have believed him capable of, then thrust for the marine's gut. Trouble took a step back, then ducked to the left, just in time to parry on the side of his knife a strike from the tall one.

Surprised to find Trouble waiting for him, the tall man backed to the left. For the first time, Trouble had them moving apart. "Watch the guy on the right," he shouted to Ruth as he faked to the right; then, as the big guy backed up a half step, Trouble two-stepped forward and grabbed down with his left.

The tall guy on the left had seen his chance and jabbed for where Trouble's bare side would have been had he repeated his usual thrust-and-back on the big guy. The tall fellow howled as Trouble grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, off balance. Swinging his knife hand around, Trouble brought the hilt up hard against the tall guy's skull, further urging him forward, and into the big fellow. The two went down in a wreck of too many arms and legs in too little space.

Trouble shot over to them, spotted the big guy's ribs poking out the side of the pile, and dropped, landing both his knees hard on the big guy's chest. Ribs snapped and the air went out of the thug. The tall guy's knife arm flailed. Trouble pulled it back and wrapped it around the wrong way. It shattered noisily.

Trouble stepped back from the two broken thugs, knife still in hand. "Are we done?" He wasn't even breathing hard. From among the watching field hands and vat girls there was a smattering of a cheer. The crack of a whip ended that.

Two of the guards stepped into the ring, pistols out, aimed at Trouble. He gave them a submissive bow.

"This shit needs new control pods," Zylon snarled.

Vahan
hustled off to do his boss's bidding. Ruth came to Trouble. "You okay?" she whispered.

"Hardly broke a sweat, buddy." He unwrapped her shirt from his left arm and hung it modestly around her shoulders. Trouble's back was to Zylon, but Ruth's eyes repeatedly flicked back to their problem boss.

"She's not going to let you live through tonight," Ruth whispered.

"I suspect so. When the marines get here, make sure Tom and Steve get right to the sergeant. He has to know what they know. Also, you tell Gunny I expect him to personally see to it that you get back to Hurtford Corner."

"Can't you do something?"

The marine did not turn around. In his mind's eye he measured the distance to Zylon. Hefting the knife, he wondered how it would throw. He'd never been good at knife throwing. Why toss away a perfectly good weapon? He had no idea how this one would fly. If he did try for Zylon, the two guards would empty their automatics at him. Kill him. Probably Ruth. Possibly a lot of the field hands behind him. The way Trouble's luck had been going lately, they'd probably hit Tom and Steve. "No, farm girl, there's nothing I can do."

"I love you, marine."

"That's a dumb thing to say."

Ruth looked around. "Good night to be stupid."

She came to him; and he held her. He could almost hear Zylon sizzling behind him. Let her; Gunny would be here before the night was over. Zylon might kill him, but there wouldn't be enough time to get around to Ruth. She'd live if Trouble and his marines didn't do something stupid.

Damn it, Gunny. Where are my marines?

Zylon's
toady returned with a new necklace for Trouble; this one had four pods. While Trouble was being fitted for his noose, he noticed a huddle across the ring around
Mordy
. They seemed to reach some agreement;
Mordy
stepped into the ring.

"Zylon, as some of your boys see it, that wasn't quite the fair fight they expected for little Ruthie. It was supposed to be two to one, but that girl ended up on the ring. I saw her trip
Komhen
. Me and three of the boys would like a rematch." Here his swagger seemed to leak a bit. "If you don't mind?"

"Why should I?" Zylon paused. "In fact, I like the idea." That brought a lot of hoots.

Somewhere to the west, there was a peal of thunder. A double peal. "Don't smell like rain," a guard observed. Trouble agreed. That thunder had no lightning attached to it, just an assault shuttle coming in fast and hot. Only thing the sky would rain tonight was marines.

Trouble stepped forward. "That's not fair," he whined. "I already fought two guys tonight. Shouldn't I have a day to rest up before I got to take on four more?" Stall, man, stall. I'll waltz with half your guard tonight if you want. Just don't take me upstairs and turn these pods on. There was a chance he just might not die tonight.

"Whoever said life was fair?" Zylon cooed. "You caused me a lot of trouble tonight. Why shouldn't we have a lot of fun with you? Yes, guys. Two of you'll have to use your own knives." Ruth started to take off her shirt. Trouble took her hand before she undid the second button. "Don't bother. These knives are too sharp." The others started for the center of the ring. He hastened out to meet them, Ruth beside him. She'd taken her belt off, wrapped it around her right hand. For the first time, the marine noticed how heavy the buckle was.

She swung it with meaning at
Mordy
and the thug on the right. "You wanted a fair fight, two against four, didn't you?" They backed up.

"Where'd you learn to use that?"

"Ask
Mordy
," she said, flipping the weighted leather strap. "You may not have given me kids, but you showed me some weird ideas of a fun time. I learned."

Mordy's
answer was a wicked laugh.

"If it's okay by you, Ruth, let me take the lead on this." He couldn't afford an argument with the woman who professed to love him, and whom he might very much love in return. Still, he had some practice fighting four guys with knives and he wasn't sure how to fit her into his plan without extensive training.

"You lead, I'll follow," Ruth said, and took two steps back.

The four—tall, short,
Mordy
. and thin, from left to right— advanced on Trouble, keeping their interval and distance. No one edged ahead. No hole opened up between them. Short was even calling a cadence of sort. "Step," he'd whisper, and all four of them would take a step forward. And Trouble would take a step back. If this kept up, they'd back him against a wall and cut him to bits when he had no more room to dodge.

Next whispered "Step," Trouble faked left. Tall and short shuffled their feet but stayed in place. The marine slashed to his right.
Mordy
and thin held their ground. Tall and short inched forward to dress on their buddies. Trouble was another pace closer to the wall, but he'd bought time. He reached behind him with his left hand and waved Ruth to move over to his left side. She did.

They'd lost their rhythm, so
shorty
did a count. "One, two, three, step." While they concentrated on their little dance, Trouble sidestepped for the left of the line and slashed at the tall one's arm.

He stumbled back, and the entire line collapsed as the four thugs tried to change front to meet a target that would not stay where they wanted it.

There was laughter among the slaves. Trouble grinned. He could keep this up all night. "What you guys need is a good drill sergeant. Want me to help?" he taunted them.

Shorty snarled and charged the marine. Trouble sidestepped him. Ruth slammed him in the side of the face with her heavy buckle as he went by. He screamed and made a blind grab for her. Since the other three weren't doing anything, Trouble risked turning his back on them. He spun, ready to put himself between the knife and the woman he loved and ...

The night got light as day. Overhead, an assault landing craft launched rockets at something beyond the big house. In a blink, the landing craft was gone, and the night was lit only by the lights around the farm. In comparison, it almost seemed dark.

Shorty had made the mistake of looking up. Puzzled by what he'd seen, he stood there, knife half thrust toward Ruth, mouth hanging open. Trouble slashed for his throat.