Lords of Space (Starship Blackbeard Book 2) Page 7

  “Are you okay?” Capp asked. “We heard more shooting. Sounded like a bloody firefight.”

  “We had an incident getting in. Lost one person, but we’re now onto the estate.”

  “Who was it?” The ensign’s voice was tight. “It wasn’t—?”

  “No, it wasn’t Carvalho. It was Silva. There will be time for that later. I need you to listen.”

  Drake told her to recall the three men he’d left to guard the perimeter and make sure the ship was ready to go. Keep the engines warm. He’d soon need Capp to bring Blackbeard in for an extraction.

  “Got it?”

  “Aye, sir.” She still sounded distracted. “Be careful. All of you.”

  “No messing around. I want you in here, all guns blazing, on my command.” He ended the call and turned to Tolvern, who had been listening to the whole thing. “You see. That’s why I wanted Capp and Carvalho separated. That’s why naval regulations forbid fraternization with fellow officers.” He glanced to where Carvalho and Haws had gone, some fifty yards off now. “It puts us all at risk. Puts the mission itself at risk. No one person’s life is favored over another’s.”

  “Except yours, sir.”

  “What?”

  “Your life, Captain. That’s the one life we protect at all costs.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Not in battle, you bloody well don’t. In battle, every life is equally important.”

  Tolvern nodded, but she looked unconvinced. In any event, now was not the time to squabble over that kind of nonsense. Capp’s evident worry about her lover vindicated his decision to separate them, and reminded him to be more vigilant about preventing any more such attachments among the crew.

  “Got it, sir,” Smythe said. “Defense matrix is down. Cameras offline.”

  “What about the landmines?”

  “They’re down too. At least, I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, sir,” Smythe said, more confidently this time. “They’re offline.”

  Tolvern got back on the com and recalled Haws and Carvalho, who came trotting up moments later with intelligence. There was a helipad, a helicopter, and more men with guns behind the wreckage of Henry Upton.

  “Good to know,” Drake said. “Ready? Let’s go.”

  He led the eight of them walking at a swift pace out of the woods, across the wide expanse of lawn toward the temple platform. The helicopter lifted into the air when they were halfway across, its rotor thumping loudly in the thick tropical air. It loitered for several seconds above the platform, and Drake braced himself for it to come swooping toward them, firing its guns. But then it dipped its nose and thumped to the west, toward the guard post. He had to assume that the crew had spotted the armed party crossing the grounds. But then, why hadn’t they flown over to investigate?

  “That was me,” Smythe said smugly, in answer to Drake’s unspoken question. He’d kept his nose at his handheld computer. “I sent a false message that the rebels had been spotted escaping into the jungle west of the guardpost.”

  “Excellent. Whatever else you can do to sow confusion, do it.”

  “I’m now sending a message purporting to be from a group of guards patrolling the grounds. That would be us, in case we’ve been spotted. We haven’t found anything and are returning to the temple platform.”

  “Will it work?” Tolvern said.

  “It should.”

  Smythe didn’t sound as sure of that as Drake would like. Nevertheless, the tech officer had already proven invaluable. It was taking longer to cross the open lawn than expected, and Drake hadn’t fully considered that having the estate perched atop a temple platform meant that defenders would have a long, wide view of their approach. Their success depended on deception.

  A few minutes later, they reached the base of the enormous temple and the road that cut its way to the top in a series of switchbacks. A lorry came rumbling down toward them. It was the same vehicle that they’d spotted on the jungle road, hauling freight up from the lowlands. Drake motioned his people back to let it past and gave a casual wave to the driver.

  “My God,” Tolvern said in a low voice as they got up. “Careless idiots. They’re going to let us just waltz in there, aren’t they?”

  But it was not to be. As soon as they reached the top of the platform and turned toward the doors of the laboratory complex, a second lorry came across. It slowed as it approached.

  “Kilcup wants you at the manor,” the driver began. “He—” The man stopped. “Who the hell are you?”

  Drake had by now glanced into the lorry and saw that the driver was alone. Drake pointed his gun through the open window. “Don’t make a move.”

  The driver mashed down on the gas. Drake fired. Bullets filled the cab. The lorry lurched, drifting, as the driver slumped over the wheel. Tolvern ran and caught up with it, opened the door to drag the man out, and jumped into the driver’s seat. She brought the lorry to a halt, and the rest of them piled in, with Drake up front with Tolvern, and the rest in the back.

  The gunshots had brought unwelcome attention, and guards turned toward them. Shouts, gunfire. Tolvern swung the vehicle around and mashed her foot on the gas. She shifted, and they raced toward the laboratory complex. She came tearing in, then slammed on the brakes and brought them jerking to a halt. They jumped out shooting, exchanging gunfire with two men coming out the front doors to investigate. The men fell, but more gunfire lashed at them from behind, knocking out the tires and pinging off the side of the vehicle. Half the team, led by Carvalho, moved as if to set up a perimeter behind the lorry, so the others could assault the building itself.

  “No,” Drake ordered. “Take position behind the wreckage.”

  The blackened hull of Henry Upton still lay in pieces to one side. As damaged as it had been by Drake’s attack, it would still provide far better shielding than the lorry, which could be cut apart by a heavy machine gun. The four men moved quickly to obey.

  The remaining four members of the assault group—Drake, Tolvern, Nyb Pim, and Smythe—burst through the doors and into the facility. They found themselves in an open foyer, the air blessedly cool and dry after the muggy jungle. The sound of gunfire continued, muffled, from outside.

  Drake eyed the hallways leading in opposite directions, the staircase climbing from the foyer to a mezzanine level above them. “Talk to me, Smythe. Where do we go?”

  The tech officer glanced up from his computer. “Up the stairs and then down the hallway.”

  There didn’t seem to be any guards left in the labs themselves, but there were plenty of people working inside. As soon as they reached the mezzanine level, Drake ordered two men in lab coats taken as prisoners. They begged not to be killed. Moments later, a woman poked her head curiously out of her office, as if drawn by the shouts of her coworkers. Drake forced her at gunpoint to join the party.

  So close to their target now, Nyb Pim seemed anxious to race ahead, eager to get his hands on the sugar antidote, but Drake insisted on caution. They cleared each room and corridor as they moved deeper into the building. He hoped Carvalho and the others were holding their ground.

  “Time to stop hiding,” Drake said to Tolvern. “Get Capp on the com. Tell her the situation—make sure she doesn’t kill our own guys when she comes in.”

  Tolvern began speaking to Capp in a low voice as they proceeded cautiously down the hallway.

  The laboratories were bigger than expected, and it cost precious minutes going from room to room. They soon came upon a big room filled with refrigerator units, freezers, and rows of computers, microscopes, centrifuges, and other equipment. By now Drake had a good dozen men and women in lab coats as prisoners. Some looked terrified, others indignant, even furious. None would give him the information he needed.

  One of the older technicians seemed to be in charge, or at least the others obeyed him when he ordered them to calm down. The man certainly looked the part of a lead scientist; he wore a lab coat and horn-rimmed g
lasses and had a shock of white hair, with a high widow’s peak.

  “Let me try this again,” Drake said when he had them all inside the large room. “I only need one thing and you can all go free. Where is the antidote? Is it in this room?”

  The lead scientist frowned and shook his head, as if confused. “You keep saying that. We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The sugar antidote. It cures sugar eaters. I know the lord admiral brought it here for study. Where is it?”

  “We’re doing nothing of the sort,” the man said indignantly. “This is a legitimate research facility. We’re breeding new strains of sugarcane that can handle the native toxins and poor soil in the highlands. An antidote? If such a thing exists, I’ve never heard of it, and neither has anyone else here.”

  “It came with the wreckage of the slaver. The pieces are lying outside—you know what I’m talking about.”

  “I have no idea why they hauled that here, but it has nothing to do with us.”

  Drake was pretty sure he was lying. “Then I’ll try someone else. Tolvern, make an example of this man.”

  She forced the scientist to his knees, screamed at him to put his hands behind his head, and placed the barrel of her gun to his skull. The man stared straight forward. His face was pale, his lips pressed together, but he didn’t volunteer information.

  Drake wasn’t about to execute the man in cold blood, but he needed them to think he would. “We’ll need two more,” he told Tolvern. “Three dead—that will show them we mean business.”

  Drake picked out a woman, also older, also with an air of authority about her. “You. On your knees. Unless you have something to tell me.”

  The woman dropped to her knees without a word.

  “That one, too,” Drake said, pointing to a younger woman with glasses, who was trembling and pale.

  Tolvern forced her to kneel next to the other two. Now both of the women were looking to the lead scientist, eyes wide and terrified. But none of the three spoke, nor did any of those still standing.

  “You won’t get anything from us,” the leader said. He lifted his eyes to Drake. “None of us know what you’re talking about. Whatever you’ve heard, whatever you think you know, it’s wrong.”

  Drake wasn’t sure if the scientist was calling his bluff, or if the man truly didn’t know. Either way, the response raised doubts. Could he be wrong? No, not unless the whole story of the sugar antidote were to unravel.

  Given enough time, he was sure he could break one of these people, but by now Blackbeard would be lifting off, enemies would be coordinating their attack on Carvalho’s men, and quite possibly someone would have notified the destroyer and orbital fortresses of the attack on Admiral Malthorne’s estate. He needed to get the goods and get the hell out.

  But before he could figure out a new angle, Nyb Pim spoke up. “Don’t you see what your sugar has done to my race? It has enslaved a billion people and wrecked a great civilization. Is there not one of you with the conscience given to every sentient being? Is there not one man or woman who will help us find this cure to my people’s misery?”

  Drake winced. Nyb Pim should have kept his mouth shut. The moral posturing would only backfire. Hroom outnumbered humans ten to one on this planet, and no doubt the scientists and technicians had considered many times what would happen if the sugar curse were lifted from the masses who labored in the lowlands. All they had to do was look around; the estate was built atop an ancient Hroom temple. Anywhere you dug, you were likely to find the bones of their once-proud civilization.

  These scientists were the last people who could be expected to wish away humanity’s greatest weapon in the struggle with the Hroom. For that matter, even Drake wasn’t settled on the issue. He meant only to liberate the antidote from Malthorne and leave the troubling decision of what to do with the blasted thing for a later date.

  “Excuse me, I can help you.”

  Drake turned toward the voice in surprise. The speaker was a solemn-faced young man, tall and slender. His accent, his fine, cultured air, and the easy manner of his posture made Drake think he was of good breeding—if not of the landed gentry, then at least a young man with an education.

  “Quiet, Brockett,” the older scientist said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, sir, I believe I do.”

  “Not another word.”

  “You’ll find what you’re looking for in the walk-in refrigeration unit on the right,” the young man said.

  “Damn you, Brockett.”

  “Get him out of here,” Drake said, pointing to the older scientist. “As a matter of fact, get them all out of here, except for this one.”

  Tolvern and Smythe hustled the rest of the scientists out of the room at gunpoint. When they were gone, Drake turned back to the young man.

  “They’re gone, Mr. Brockett,” he said. “Will you help me?”

  The young scientist looked a little pale, but met the captain’s gaze. “I have two questions. What do you intend to do with it? And will you kill me when I give it to you?”

  “I won’t kill you. If I were that kind of man, I’d have started executing your friends when they wouldn’t cooperate.” Drake forced himself to speak calmly, even as he felt the precious seconds ticking by. “As for the other question, I don’t know what I’ll do with it, but I won’t leave it in the lord admiral’s hands. I don’t know what Malthorne intends, but he means to use it for ill, you can mark my words. And if I can’t find it, I will destroy this facility and everything in it.”

  “Will you give it to the Hroom?”

  Here, Drake hesitated and glanced at Nyb Pim. “Not yet, no. I need to think about it. If I do share it with the enemy, it will be with conditions.”

  “You sound like an honest man,” Brockett said. “My father always said that you can tell a gentleman because he will give you a straight answer.”

  “I do so when I can, Mr. Brockett,” Drake said.

  “Sir,” the Hroom said. “May I offer my opinion?”

  “Not now, Pilot.”

  Capp came through on the com link. “Cap’n, we’re up. Taking fire. Can we come in yet?”

  “One minute, Ensign.”

  “But Captain!”

  He ended the call.

  Every instinct was telling Drake to run, go, before the situation degraded. But there was something about the confidence in Brockett’s comportment that told the captain that the young man wouldn’t be bullied into handing over what he was demanding.

  “Where is it?” Drake asked.

  “I’ll show you on one condition.”

  “I told you already, I don’t know what I’ll do with it, and I won’t make any promises one way or another.”

  “Not that. My condition is that you take me with you.”

  Drake’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t even know who we are.”

  “I can guess. You’re the one who destroyed the merchant ship. The rogue navy captain.”

  “I thought they were calling me a pirate now.”

  “They are.”

  The building shook from an explosion, and the lights flickered. Drake grabbed a nearby table to steady himself.

  “The lord admiral will order me killed if I give you what you want,” Brockett continued. “Anyway, I know things that can help you.”

  “About the antidote?”

  “Yes, I can replicate it. I’ve learned the trick of it.”

  Drake didn’t need to hear any more. “In that case, yes, please come. I give you my word as a gentleman—whatever value that may hold, given the current circumstances—that if you behave honorably and truthfully, you will be treated well.”

  Brockett didn’t wait for him to finish before he was rushing to the larger of the walk-in refrigeration units. He ordered Drake and Nyb Pim to fetch two coolers from some cabinets on the far side of the room. When they returned, Brockett cleared off shelves in the refrigeration unit and tossed in vials
of liquids and powders.

  By now, the building was shuddering from a series of explosions, and both Capp and Tolvern were frantically calling Drake on the com link. He told Capp to come in for a landing and Tolvern to release the scientists and meet him downstairs in the main lobby.

  “Tell them to run,” Drake said. “They won’t want to be in the building when we get started on it.”

  Drake, Nyb Pim, and the young scientist came into the hallway to find it filled with smoke. The sprinkler system came on and sprayed them with warm water. Nyb Pim and Brockett each carried one of the coolers, while Drake cleared the way holding his rifle. He scared off the few workers they encountered and soon joined Smythe and Tolvern in the foyer.

  Tolvern eyed Brockett. “Don’t tell me he’s coming with us.”

  “It was a condition of his help. It seems Brockett would rather not face the lord admiral.”

  She sighed. “Something wrong with your existing collection of sidekicks?”

  He didn’t have time for banter. “What is the situation?”

  “Blackbeard has landed. She’s giving them hell outside. Carvalho and his boys are still pinned down behind the wrecked slaver.”

  “Good enough. Let’s get out of here.”

  A wall of steamy, smoky air hit them as they burst outside. The stench of burning plastic and fuel oil filled their lungs and sent them coughing. The four men Drake had left to guard the perimeter remained ducked behind the wreckage of Henry Upton, uninjured, but not daring to lift their heads and risk the fire blasting away across the open air. Thankfully, none of the gunfire seemed to be coming from the enemy, but that didn’t make it any less hazardous.

  Blackbeard sat on a smoking stretch of the temple platform, midway between the laboratories and the manor house. The burning wreckage of the helicopter lay on its side in front of the ship. Blackbeard’s deck gun thumped at several enemies hunkered down at the estate. When it had suppressed that gunfire, it turned to blast at the laboratories.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Drake said. “Doesn’t Baker know we were in there?”