‘Fat lot of help you were as escort,' and Charas resisted the temptation to kick the unconscious man for his dereliction of duty. There were other more pressing matters - like following the faint whiff of gas through the maze of installations and cargo bays. This was a down time in the cargo bay when all but the most urgent jobs were suspended. Some ship was being loaded on the far side of the dock but it might as well have been on another planet as far as crowd protection went. The time had been well chosen. And the abductors had also had access to the intermural passages which separated cargo areas. Alternately sniffing for the trail of gas and choking on the residue, the eye continued until there was no smell at all, backtracked to where vestigial traces remained, used the special key to open the panel and stepped out into a workshop area: empty, of course. Pausing long enough to key in the new position to Commander an Hon's security board, Charas proceeded into the chamber. The trail of gas could be followed to the airlock. Then quit.
‘I must have been out longer than I thought,' the operative murmured, keying into the security board in Commander an Hon's office. 'Charas here. There's an unconscious man at Sector 45-Z-2, Cargo 30, and Marmion de Revers Algemeine and her guest, Colonel Maddock-Shongili appear to have been kidnapped.’
‘'What did you say?’
Charas sighed and repeated the message.
‘Are you sure?' This time it was the Commander himself asking.
‘Yes. Stop all out-going vessels.’
‘No implant messages?’
‘Only the mayday,' Charas said grimly.
‘We're instigating stop-and-search procedures.’
‘Good. First check what was logged in at Bay 30-47N.’
There was a brief pause. 'A damaged pleasure yacht to be repaired, with a hole the size of a shuttle…' Some rather inventive cursing followed. 'And a shuttle is registered as pulling out of that sector.’
‘Have the corvette pick me up here.’
‘Since it's only a shuttle, can do,' said the Commander.
‘And send someone to collect that idiot who was escorting them.' Charas gave the location again. 'I want a tape of the rescue. First impressions are invaluable. He may know something he doesn't know that we can use.’
Charas waited impatiently for the appearance of the corvette which docked using the airlock through which the abductors had taken their victims. There was only the faintest whiff of gas left.
The security corvette was fast. Surprisingly enough, the escaping shuttle was almost faster.
‘I don't believe these speeds,' the corvette captain said. 'Everyone on board must be out!’
‘Some of 'em are,' said Charas grimly, aware of her own 'working' dishevelment in the presence of the naval neat-and-proper corvette crew. But her diminutive size allowed her to dress as a station urchin, which, in turn, allowed her to move about with more freedom than an adult could. Especially with the security bracelet in place that gave her access where even adult bodies would not fit.
In terms of manoeuvrability, the shuttle was nearly as agile in space as the corvette and led them a chase through the storage pens that circled Gal-3 at a distance: anything from recyclable debris to cold storage. Like threading a needle through a haystack, Charas thought, having strapped herself into the chair.
‘We'll get the buggers now,' the corvette captain said as the shuttle cleared the last of the obstacles.
He signalled the helmsman for more thrust and the corvette steadily gained on the shuttle. 'Must have souped-up engines to do this. Halt and prepare to be boardedl' he announced over the comlink.
The corvette was matching speed and position, edging closer and closer when the shuttle exploded. The corvette was skewed sideways, any crew member not strapped down to something bounced about like a wad of plastic. The corvette had taken a broadside and would limp back on navigational thrusters alone. But the worst part of it - or maybe it was the best part of it - the implant in Charas' mastoid bone had not rung the death knell of the person she thought she was about to retrieve from the kidnappers.
‘That shuttle was a decoy,' Commander an Hon told Charas when she got to his office.
‘And stop-and-search has produced nothing?' she asked, slumping in the chair an Hon had gestured for her to take. She was very weary and the effects of the gas, despite a marginal inhalation, could still be felt.
‘Not yet, but there were damned near thirty ships leaving Gal-Three at within the target hour. You're sure Marmion de Revers Algemeine is still alive?’
‘Yes,' and she touched the mastoid bone. 'What about that faller?’
‘Hmmm, yes,' the Commander said. 'Macchiavelli Sendal-Archer-Klausevitch…’
‘Say what?’
There was a twitch of a smile on his lips when an Hon repeated the name. 'Recently appointed as CEO of a Rothschild's subsidiary based here on Gal-Three. Pharmaceuticals, mainly, but with broad powers. I've sent for background gen… an in-depth study, more than was initially received when he was assigned to the Gal-Three offices. But, let me just play back that rescue tape.’
That made Charas sit up and she rearranged her weary body in the conform chair. Such tapes were generally used to affirm treatment on emergency calls, more to protect the Samaritan than the victim, but were helpful in establishing little details when victims would not be as compos mentis as they would like.
Charas watched and then, smiling ever so slightly, turned to an Hon who was blandly anticipating her reactions.
‘Oddly enough I don't believe he was as thoroughly gassed as he appeared.’
She knew exactly how one felt coming out of that sort of encounter. The tape showed the rescue team advancing on the body, went through the whole routine of administering oxygen to counteract the effects. The too handsome man went through the gagging, the disjointed motions and lingual distortions the gas caused. The med-team administered a hypospray to reduce the nausea. But something about his behaviour suggested to Charas that it was a performance.
‘And the lungs?’
‘They showed only a minute residue of gas - not a full measure. Certainly not one that would have rendered him unconscious so long. He also had the ransom note!’
‘Well, what about that?’
‘Yes, what about it?’
‘I think we watch this… what's his name again? Never mind. He'll be Mac in my books.' And she didn't give Mac the respect the name so often deserved.
‘Indeed we will. Here's the note.' And the
Commander passed over the slip as gingerly as if he expected it to explode in his face.
Aboard the pirate ship
When the voice contact with her beloved Sean had been summarily curtailed by Megenda, Yana was close to lashing out indiscriminately with her fists at the big first mate and the monstrous hologram of Captain Louchard. Either would have been a foolish waste of time and as it was, another paroxysm of coughing racked her.
‘Haul the female to Doctor Mendelsky. She can't be dying on us. Or we lose our leverage with the planet,' Louchard had growled.