Dark Sky (Keiko) (34 page)

Goldberg didn’t answer, but a certain resignation flavoured her glare. Drift decided that was probably the best he was going to get so he straightened back up again and turned around, just in time to see the big officer with the moustache stand with an expression of grave reluctance on his face.

‘
Komandir?
’

Muradov’s stare could have cut through hull metal, but the big man ignored it except to go slightly redder in the face. ‘
Komandir, ya—
’

Another officer, a woman with her red hair in twin plaits, got to her feet and interposed herself between the big man and Muradov and started shouting. A second later the entire interior of the vehicle had devolved into chaos, with every member of the
politsiya
on their feet, raising their voice and gesticulating.

In such a highly charged environment it was of course only a matter of time until someone put their hand on a weapon. In this case it was the big man with the moustache, who held his left hand out in what looked to be a simultaneously warning and accusing manner towards the red-haired officer in front of him while his right crept apparently automatically to the pistol holstered at his side. It seemed, however, that he hadn’t banked on the strength of feeling of a muscular young woman with a blonde buzz cut, who took exception to this and stepped up to slug him neatly across the jaw.

The big man skewed sideways and went down, which was the cue for the other three officers to go for their own guns, or at least try to: Drift saw Karwoski explode up from his seat and tackle one of them around the waist, while Goldberg moved to grab the officer’s gun hand and wrest the weapon from him.

For his part, Drift jumped on the back of the nearest man and pinned his gun arm to his side using his legs, then snaked an arm under the Uragan’s chin and squeezed for all he was worth. He caught a brief glimpse of Kuai cowering with his arms raised protectively around his head – hardly surprising, given that the little mechanic had taken a bullet in a scuffle a few weeks before – before Drift’s adversary reversed sharply into the wall in an attempt to batter him off. There was a flash of pain as the back of his skull collided with the storage rack, but he gritted his teeth and held on.

The man tried again, a shuffle-forwards-and-back motion without the momentum of the original attempt, but Drift ducked his head and the metal just scraped unpleasantly up the back of his skull instead of hitting him squarely. Then he felt the Uragan’s legs start to go as the lack of blood to the brain began to tell, and braced himself for the man to keel backwards onto him.

There was an unpleasant metallic crunching sound, the entire vehicle rocked and Drift found himself accelerating forward towards the floor. The unfortunate with whom he was grappling hit face first, which proved to be enough to send him completely limp, while Drift’s left shoulder and hip took the brunt of his fall and both promptly began screaming at him. He let go of the Uragan and staggered up to his feet, looking around in confusion. ‘What the—’

The noise and impact came again, throwing everyone about for a second time, and Drift realised what it was. They were being rammed.

Muradov grabbed his comm handset and spat something in Russian, but Drift was already moving past the security chief and hauling open the door that led to the cab. The driver was so busy wrenching at the controls that she didn’t even look around at the interruption, and Drift got a momentary impression of wide streets lined with affluent-looking houses and gardens – with artificial sunlight and real plants! – before he refocused on the intimidating bulk of another Red Star riot vehicle swerving at them from the right. Clearly one of their escort vehicles, or at least the driver of it, had decided to try to curry favour with the new regime.

‘Brace!’ he yelled into the passenger bay, grabbing the door frame for support half a second before they got hit again. The jolt was bad enough to send a new stab of pain through his shoulder, but not enough to send him to the floor. He pulled the pistol he’d appropriated from its holster and aimed it reflexively at the other vehicle’s driver, visible through the two cabs’ respective viewports, but remembered at the last moment that the glass on both trucks would be bulletproof and he was more likely to endanger himself or his own driver with a ricochet. However, the other man saw the weapon and seemed to have a similar memory lapse: he swerved away instinctively, allowing Drift’s vehicle to recover the centre of the road just before it would have been forced into a very solid-looking boundary wall.

The escort vehicle ahead seemed to have worked out what was going on, and its driver decided to intervene by slamming on the brakes and turning so it started to skid sideways down the street. Drift thought for a moment that they were joining the attack, but then saw that it had been angled to cut off the aggressor to their right. Muradov’s driver veered across the street in a sideswipe of her own, forcing the other vehicle into a collision course, then pulled away at the last moment to skim past the now-stationary third truck with an elated whoop. Her counterpart wasn’t able to evade in time and careered headlong into the sudden obstacle with a rending crunch that made Drift wince even though he’d only heard the impact.

‘What in the Prophet’s name was that?!’ Muradov barked, appearing at Drift’s shoulder.

‘Your car in front just took out the one ramming us,’ Drift replied breathlessly. ‘I’d say they’re all feeling quite bad about now.’
Including the Shirokovs, I expect.
He wondered for a moment about trying to persuade Muradov to go back for the Uragan couple, but sometimes you just had to accept that a promise would be broken.
And at least this way I’m not smuggling Orlov’s mole off-world.
He brought his thoughts back to the situation at hand and tried to peer past the security chief. ‘I take it everything’s under control in there now?’

‘Your help was appreciated,’ Muradov muttered. Drift got the impression the Uragan was ashamed that some of his officers had turned against him, and felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the man. It had to be hard when your world got turned upside down overnight.

Muradov leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. ‘I would not have expected such a reaction from Captain Moutinho’s crew. Was that your doing?’

‘I told them our only way off is with you,’ Drift replied quietly, ‘and to be ready to step in when things went south.’ He saw the surprise in Muradov’s eyes, and shrugged. ‘I did say I’ve made a career out of surviving things going spectacularly wrong.’

‘You did. I still think that it sounds … inefficient,’ the Uragan said after a moment, and it took Drift a second to notice the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of the other man’s mouth.

He snorted. ‘How far is it now?’

‘Five blocks,’ Muradov replied, looking at the scrolling schematic by the side of the driver.

Drift nodded, then lowered his voice again as a thought struck him. ‘Your people know this isn’t going to magically solve everything, right?’

Muradov frowned. ‘Excuse me?’

‘“Get to the governor’s place” is a fine aim, but what will they do when they realise the plan is to just take off and leave?’ Drift asked quietly. ‘Do they have families?’ He paused, suddenly aware of the can of worms he’d potentially opened. ‘Wait … do
you
have a family?’

‘Not since my mother died,’ Muradov replied, with unexpected openness. ‘You may be correct, however … I had not thought of the impact on the others, or their reactions.’ He grimaced. ‘Clearly, I am not so expert as you at creating plans on the fly.’

‘Pray you never have to be,’ Drift muttered, thinking furiously. He glanced into the passenger bay again in case inspiration struck, and found it sitting back-to-back in handcuffs and covered by the two female officers. ‘Okay, we play it simple.
Those
four were the ones who sided with you, but you betrayed them and left them behind. Then the two ladies here and the driver, who all wanted to join the revolution, got the drop on them when they were arguing among themselves afterwards.’ He paused for a second, then added. ‘And I was holding the driver at gunpoint. Just in case anyone who saw her is still in a fit state to speak.’

‘Both sides would have similar stories, with nothing to prove it one way or the other,’ Muradov mused, ‘so they could hopefully stay here without consequence. That may be the best outcome we can hope for.’ He looked sideways at Drift, as though weighing him up. ‘You are alarmingly good at this.’

Drift shrugged again. ‘It’s a talent with its uses.’

‘All legitimate, I am sure,’ Muradov said dryly, then moved to the side of his two loyal officers and began speaking to them urgently in Russian. Drift caught the eye of first Kuai and then Goldberg, and gave them both a thumbs up. Kuai just looked at him wearily, while Goldberg replied with a different single raised digit of her own.

Well, there was just no pleasing some folk.

‘TAMARA,’ MOUTINHO SAID
in a voice thick with tension, ‘duck.’

Rourke registered that the second word was in English and, while expressions of confusion were still spreading over the faces of Yuri and his men, threw herself to the ground.

‘
Traitor!
’ Moutinho yelled, this time in Russian, and three guns roared into life. There was a brief fusillade of shots accompanied by some screams, then someone landed on her. She bucked and kicked them off instinctively, coming up to her feet with the Crusader in her hands, and found herself staring down at Yuri. The Uragan had a weeping red wound in the centre of his chest, and she realised with some distaste that his blood had smeared down her left arm when he’d fallen on top of her. He focused on her face and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Rourke had no time for him: she kicked away the pistol that was still loosely grasped in his right hand, then turned to survey the rest of the scene.

The rest of Yuri’s immediate companions had apparently been caught unaware by Moutinho’s sucker punch and were, if not dead or mortally wounded, certainly out of the fight. The brief but violent commotion had understandably attracted attention and faces were turned towards them, with a couple of revolutionaries jogging back in their direction. Most of this group didn’t have firearms, but even so …

‘Tamara!’

She turned again and saw Moutinho, Jack and Achilles fleeing towards a tram, one of them propelling Jenna by her shoulder and another holding her head down. They looked for all the world like bodyguards getting someone away from a conflict zone, but despite that, the Free Systems colours on their armour and Moutinho’s shouted assertion that Yuri had been a traitor, Rourke didn’t think it would fool the other revolutionaries for long. Apirana was hobbling after them as fast as he could, but the big man had never been the fleetest of foot even when both his feet were in working order, and he was already being left behind. And Skanda …

The last member of Moutinho’s crew, unprotected by the body armour his colleagues had been wearing, had apparently taken at least one bullet in the exchange and was on his back. She bent over him for a second, taking in the placement of the wound.
High on the right side of the chest, probably puncturing a lung. Not necessarily fatal if treated quickly.
She looked around quickly at the other revolutionaries and took in their positions, then back down at Skanda.

‘Get up,’ she told him bluntly, ‘or you’ll die.’

‘Don’t leave me!’ he wheezed, clutching at the hem of her coat. She snatched it out of his grip.

‘Sorry,’ she said flatly, ‘you’re not my crew.’ She took off after the others, Crusader clutched in one hand and the other trying to hold steady the bag of belongings Jenna had rescued from their rooms, leaving the
Jacare
’s crewman on the ground behind her but unable to shake an uncomfortable sense of guilt. Skanda had persuaded Ruslan to open the door and let her in off the street into the salon, away from the bullets flying outside. He hadn’t necessarily saved her life, but …

Stupid. He’s Moutinho’s crewman and Moutinho’s responsibility, and Moutinho’s left him behind. Skanda wouldn’t stop to pick me up if I was wounded.

Only a few seconds had passed since the confrontation that had ended Yuri’s dreams of becoming a hero of the Free State, but now some of the other rebels had decided that something was wrong. Gunfire began to ring out around the tram depot again, echoing off buildings and with the occasional
spanging
sound as a bullet ricocheted. Rourke kept her head down and ran, with the lumbering shape of Apirana growing larger in front of her moment by moment.

‘Gas!’ Moutinho yelled, and two of them slowed for a second to pull grenades from their belts and hurl them to either side. Greenish-white plumes of gas erupted as they bounced across the ground, partially obscuring the trio and Jenna from the sight of the revolutionaries.

It also sent wisps trailing across the narrow route onto the platforms that Rourke and Apirana were aiming for.

‘Hold your breath!’ she yelled as she came alongside the big Maori. She waited until the last moment before grabbing the collar of her coat and pulling as much as she could across her eyes and face, then held it in place as long as she dared before removing it again. A retching sound behind her arrested her flight and she looked around to see Apirana spluttering on his crutches, eyes streaming. Clearly, the big man’s exertions hadn’t lent themselves well to being able to hold his breath, no matter the potential consequences.