Caine reached the corvette’s portside hatchway and passed his load to Peter Wu, who glanced at the other people approaching with similar burdens. “Captain, don’t the Slaasriithi have robots?”
“Some.” Riordan considered reminding Wu that there was no reason to revert to addressing him by rank again, but thought the better of it. The career military personnel had their own very practical instincts about such matters. In this case, while exchanges remained informal within their own circle, they stuck with the basic formalities of ranks and titles when mixing in with the civilians. Caine had spent as much time as a grass-roots insurgent as he had in true military formations — which was to say, not much of either — but accepted the wisdom of their unspoken but unanimous choice in the matter.
Peter was still looking grimly at the approaching bucket-brigade of packages to be passed through the hatchway. “So where are the robots, sir?”
Caine shrugged. “Far away from us. After the debacle with Buckley, the Slaasriithi have become extremely cautious about bringing any systems into contact with us. However, I am told that stops tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“We get hit with another dose of markers.”
Trent Howarth stooped through the airlock to take the load from Peter. “Yeah, magic dust with mucho mojo, according to Major Rulaine.”
Riordan smiled. “According to Yiithrii’ah’aash, he’ll shower us with a super-strength mix just before we start planetside. The markers will provide us with up to a week of affinity and even influence over the local wildlife. Well, the Slaasriithi biota, that is; not all of Disparity’s flora and fauna have ‘harmonized’ just yet.”
“So why not put the magic dust on us now?” Peter passed the package to Howarth, eyed the next, larger one being carried jointly by Phil Friel and Tina Melah.
Riordan stepped back out of their way. “Gaspard and I wanted it checked out, first. So Ben Hwang has been looking at it from the bio side, Rena Mizrahi from the medical angle, and Oleg Danysh has been pulling apart its atomic structure.” He turned to head back for another load.
Wu sagged under the crate that Tina and Phil passed to him. “How unfortunate for them, having to work so hard.”
Caine smiled, waved, turned the corner around which Macmillan had disappeared and which led to the shuttle and the other modules that comprised their restricted domain aboard the Slaasriithi shift-carrier.
As he went further along the gently curving stretch of corridor, he encountered more of the legation’s sweaty geniuses-become-stevedores, mostly carrying survival packs toward the shuttle. Riordan was considering lending a hand there, as well, when his collarcom emitted a flute-and-wind-chime tone: an incoming signal from Yiithrii’ah’aash. Caine tapped the collarcom. “Hello, Ambassador. How may I help you?”
“Caine Riordan, I trust the relocation of your supplies is proceeding well?”
“Yes. Not without a few mishaps, of course.” But you’re not contacting me to check on our box-juggling follies. “Are our activities causing you any concern, Ambassador?”
“No, but we are experiencing an unexplained malfunction at the berth where your shuttle is docked.”
Caine hardly realized that his pace had slowed. “What kind of malfunction, Ambassador?”
“Power loss. However, it is only affecting the securing clamps and the hatch seals, which have released.”
Riordan came to a stop. “Is there a danger of separation? Do we need to evacuate the bay?”
“That would be precipitous, Caine Riordan. I am sure that we shall have isolated the problem in a few minut—”
The circuit cut out; the lights flickered once and died. The hallway was plunged into darkness, except for the bobbing blue collarcom lights of a few distant team members. One fell with a curse; something she’d been carrying broke with a sound like smashed crockery.
Damn it. Caine tapped his collarcom, tried to recontact the ambassador. The corridor’s emergency lights flashed on — amber, low, calming — and went out again, just as fast.
Riordan began feeling his way forward in the darkness and hammered at his collarcom — which emitted an affronted chirp; the wireless power supply was off, too. Batteries only, now. He switched over to the legation channel. “Everyone, this is Captain Riordan. Get to the nearest wall so you can feel your way along. Move with all haste to whichever of our two boats are closest. Hold your collarcom over your head with your other hand, so people can see where you are.”
“Captain Riordan.” It was Gaspard. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know, but the Slaasriithi are as surprised as we are. I was on a channel with Ambassador Yiithrii’ah’aash when—”
“Then why should we move to our ships, before we even know what is happening?”
You shouldn’t be doing this on an open channel, Gaspard; I don’t have the time to save face for you. “If something does go wrong, those ships are our only assured means of escape.” Riordan heard Dora Veriden mutter something about prudent action and no reason to take any chances.
“Very well, Captain; we shall do as you say. Do you have any recommendations regar—?”
A fierce quake sent Riordan to his knees. Shit.
“Mon Dieu!” Gaspard’s voice was more surprised than it was panicked: better than what Caine would have anticipated three months ago. “What is happening?”
Caine scrabbled back to his feet, double-timed forward. “Ambassador, absent other data, I would say we are under attack.”
“Under attack? But I thought it was merely a power failure of some kind—”
Bannor began snarling at panicked team members to stay off the line and keep moving to the closest boat. Caine hoped the legation would be able to make out his words through the cross talk: it was unlikely that there’d be time to repeat anything. “The power outage was probably sabotage, since the emergency power went out as well. We’ve lost mobility, which makes us an easy target, particularly with the ship’s point defense systems and sensors off-line. Whoever is out there shooting at us, almost certainly with a laser, lined us up and hit us as soon as their sensors confirmed that all our active systems had gone dark. Which they seemed to waiting for. The hit we felt was pretty far away from us, though. Probably up near the bow.”
“Concur,” Bannor said sharply. And then his voice was on the secure tactical channel. “Caine, how long until you get back to Puller?”
“I’m not heading toward Puller.” Up ahead, a male member of the legation fell, cursed, fell again, his voice getting more shrill and panicked. Caine moved in that direction.
“Sir, with all due respect, we’re your ride. Civilians go planetside on the shuttle; security forces go on the—”
“Bannor. It’s now twice as far for me to get to Puller. Besides, your top priority is to pull in all the people who are closest to you, lock down, and get away.”
“Can’t. Power outage has frozen our berthing cradles in place.”
“And you’ve got shipboard lasers at murderously close range. Keep your plants at low output: enough power to cut yourself free, but not enough to give the threat force an easy lock on you. And if you can’t release the airlock’s mating rings, blow the outer coaming with the embedded explosive bolts.”
“Okay, sir, but not until we see you and the shuttle safely away.”