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Authors: Jonathan L. Howard

BOOK: Katya's World
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The main screen flickered and they were seeing through the
Novgorod
’s eyes as it hurtled through the tunnel. The walls shot past them as if they were falling down a well. Suddenly, they broadened and they were out in the internal lake of the mine’s moon pool. The far wall rose up ahead of them.

It would be an unfair irony, thought Katya, if they’d saved themselves from being smashed on the outside of a mountain only to be smashed on the inside of one.
She’d hardly noticed that she’d dug her heels in against the floor plating as if she could bring the submarine to a halt by sheer force of will.


Beaching ramp to port!

called Kane and wrenched the controls over. Many such pools had beaching ramps where boats could be pulled out of the water for routine maintenance. Usually, the boat rode up on a custom-built wheeled cradle, all prim and pampered.

The
Novgorod
hit the ramp with her bare belly and ran up screaming every centimetre of the way. A four hundred metre long vessel can build up quite a bow wave, especially with her hydroplanes in the vertical position to act as water brakes. The wave was three metres high when it hit the quayside and broke, running tonnes of water across ground where nobody had stood for five years. It hit the front of the empty traffic control offices and stove in the thick glass sheeting. Katya watched all this on the boat’s cameras. She wondered if somebody was going to have to pay for all this damage.


Engines, all stop!

commanded Captain Zagadko.

And kill that damn sonar!

With the sonar grids out of the water, they were just making a fierce whittering tone that echoed around the pool’s cavern. On the quay, the backwash of water from the bow wave gushed back into the moon pool.

The engines died. T
he sonar died
.

T
he silence was beautiful.


Damage report,

demanded Zagadko as he unstrapped himself, standing up and testing the skewed angle of the deck with his feet.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Structurally, the boat was intact. There were any number of minor pieces of damage, but they were largely unimportant to the operation of the vessel or easily fixed. The greatest problem was the actual physical situation. The
Novgorod
’s first quarter was out of the water and there was no possible way of getting her back into the pool without heavy equipment.

She’ll swim,

the damage control officer concluded,

but she’ll need help to do it.

Tokorov was at the environmental controls.

Captain, I’ve taken a sample of the air in the mining base.


Is it breathable?


It’s not just breathable, it’s at maintained levels. They must have left the environmental systems running when it was abandoned. Perhaps they thought somebody would be going back to finish stripping the place and it never happened.

Zagadko nodded; there was an excellent chance that was exactly what happened. A typical failure in communications between two work crews hired through different contractors and both under the impression that the other would be the last ones out. With no personnel left there to put a strain on life-support, it could tick over quite happily on its fusion cells for ten or twenty years.


That’s something, at least. We’re going to have to get a message out somehow. Put together a party, Lieutenant Tokarov, and see if there’s any communications gear still in place. Even the bare terminals of a transmitter array will do – we can provide the rest.

Tokarov saluted smartly and moved off to put together a landing party.

Zagadko pursed his lips and grimaced.

Which leaves me with one last unpleasant duty.

In a single smooth action, he drew his sidearm and clapped the barrel against the back of Kane’s skull as he sat at the controls.

Hands clear of the yoke, Mr Kane. I have no desire to kill you so please don’t make it a necessity.

Kane slowly raised his hands. He didn’t look at all surprised. Katya, on the other hand, was outraged.

What are you doing, captain? He just saved all our lives!

Zagadko shot her a sideways glance.

I don’t deny it, Ms Kuriakova. But the fact remains that I have reasonable grounds to believe Mr Kane here is an agent of a foreign power. I’d be failing in my duty if I didn’t take him into custody. Which reminds me – Mr Kane, by the authority vested in me by the Federal Maritime Authority and by the Russalkin legislature, you’re under arrest.


So I gather,

replied Kane. He seemed faintly amused by it all. Katya couldn’t see anything funny about having a maser pistol tight against the back of your skull.

May I ask under what charge?


Suspicion of insurgent activity, acting against the interests of Russalka, farting in a confined space… does it really matter, Kane? There’s something wrong about you and I intend to find out what it is. Specifically, I intend to hand you over to Secor and they can find out.


But…

started Katya.


I’m fully aware of the service that Mr Kane has afforded this vessel, Ms Kuriakova,

Zagadko interrupted her. She saw he was becoming angry and shut up.

And I’m not unappreciative. I shall make that clear in my report. The fact remains that he’s said
enough
things that make me think he’s a Terran. That’s enough reason for me to arrest him and more than enough for you to accept it.


Don’t argue with the captain, Katya,

said Kane softly.

I’d do exactly the same in his place.

Katya fumed. Why did they insist on talking down to her like this?

How can you be so calm? Do you know what Secor will do to you?

Secor was the popular name for the FMA Security Organisation and was the only popular thing about it. Nobody liked to think about what went on in Secor establishments or what its agents did with the carte blanche they’d been given by a desperate government during the war. Now, ten years later, the government seemed too terrified to withdraw those powers.

Kane smiled.

Sensory deprivation, psychotomimetic drugs, RNA stripping, the usual. They’re quite old fashioned in their ways, bless them.

Zagadko had Kane taken to the brig by a couple of marines. He seemed embarrassed to have Kane present on the bridge for any longer than was necessary, Kane’s calm acceptance of his arrest unnerving him somewhat.

For her part Katya watched him go with very mixed emotions. He was a ruthless pirate, a murderer who had saved her life. He
was probably a Terran, a G
rubber, one of the filth who had killed her father and thousands more, yet he had also saved the
Novgorod
and everybody aboard her. Katya didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, but she certainly couldn’t like him either. That only left her the option of indifference, and Kane was a hard man to be indifferent about. She settled on something like grudging respect, but that just made what Secor were going to do to him feel all the worse.

Tokarov arrived back to report he’d put together his party.

Shall I have weapons issued, sir?

The captain looked at him as if he was mad for a second, but then his brow clouded and he nodded.

Yes. Yes, that would be wise. I don’t like the way Kane knew so much about this place and the way the life-support has so conveniently been left running. We may not be alone here.

Katya watched the party troop up the deck, restlessness growing in her. She didn’t care to be trapped in the
Novgorod
with the likes of Captain Zagadko. She’d known Kane was a criminal, but Secor? They’d tear his mind to pieces looking for Grubber conspiracies and leave him a hollowed-out wreck. She’d heard too many ugly stories of what Secor agents did to amuse themselves
, from friends and from Sergei in his darker moments
.
If even half of what they said was true…
Why couldn’t Zagadko just have said he’d hand Kane over to the normal law enforcement agencies?


Captain,

she began.


Request denied,

replied Zagadko blandly without even looking away from the damage report he’d just been handed.


You don’t even know what…


You were going to ask permission to go ashore.

He finally favoured her with a look.

Weren’t you?

She had been, but she just glared at him
as
her answer.


Well,

he continued without giving her any more time to answer,

that’s impossible. I’m not convinced that this mining site is nearly as abandoned as Mr Kane
tried
to suggest.


What?

said Katya, anger making her incautious and impolite.

You think the Terran army is hiding here?

The captain ignored the venom in her voice.

Criminals tend to associate with criminals, greater and lesser. I think our Mr Kane is the former, and that he will associate with the latter. Pirates
, perhaps?
People who have little to lose by working for somebody like him.


Y
ou’re making
a lot
of guesses, captain
.

The captain’s face hardened.

With all due respect, Ms Kuriakova, you know nothing.

The grimness of his voice indicated that she was due precious little respect, from him at least.

The war was only ten years ago, not even a generation, and you know nothing of it.


My father…


Died in it? Lots of fathers died in it. And mothers. And sons. And daughters. You dishonour their memory. The first strikes were against our air arm. Remember that much?


The Andrev Platform was destroyed. Of course I…


And what kind of aircraft were destroyed there? Eh?

Katya couldn’t answer; she had no idea. Her mouth opened and closed a few times until the captain lost patience.


Contragravitic craft, girl! CG craft just like the ones in the forward compartment! They were all we had; ideal for lifting from a submersible platform. How then,

he leaned close and she could suddenly feel the weight of that war on his shoulders, all that loss and agony expressing itself in the cold fury of his glance,

did Kane have experience flying fixed-wing aircraft? Those are Terran!

He spat the word out like diseased phlegm.

He drew himself up and took a long calming breath.

No Russalkin could have saved our lives in the way that he did,

he finished quietly.

 

 

Chapter 6
Deck Sweeper

 

 

Katya sat in the otherwise deserted junior officers’ ward room and wondered how so much can go so wrong in so little time. The memories kept running around her head in a jumbled mess: clinging to the distress buoy; that idiot Fed Suhkalev; getting dressed that morning, so carefully putting her navigator’s card in her pocket; the ghost return from the

ore mountain

; torpedoes in the water. Most of all, she remembered her Uncle Lukyan. He’d survived the war only to die on some stupid milk run. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. It was not fair.

 


Theoretically I’m not allowed in here without an invitation.

She looked up. Lieutenant Petrov was standing in the doorway, his hands on the top frame, looking speculatively around.

I’m the first officer,

he continued,

so I’m not really a junior officer anymore. Tradition says I don’t go any further without being asked.

Katya looked at him for a long second. She wasn’t sure she liked him; she still remembered the look on his face when Kane had made the slip about aircraft that had condemned him. If the captain hadn’t picked it up, she was sure Petrov would have informed him of his suspicions. But, like so much else, it was duty. Duty and tradition. Traditions from old Earth, strangely enough – the world they cursed in one breath and held in grudging respect the next.

Come in,

she said.

Petrov looked too tall to be a submariner, she thought as he folded himself through the door and slid with practised ease but little grace into the seat opposite her. With his close-cropped hair and his cold grey eyes, he was almost a parody of the stereotypical Secor officer. A Russalka spider-crab made human.

He sat in silence, regarding her for a moment. Then he opened his breast pocket and reached inside.

I have something for you.

He slid her navigator’s card out and put it down on the table in front of her. As she took it, he added,

It was in your clothes. I thought you’d like it back.

Katya was looking at her picture
on
the card. There she was looking so seriously back o
ut at herself and Katya thought
that was taken eighteen days ago. Why do I look
like
such a child?

Thank you.

She put the card away.

You searched my clothes?


Of course,

said Petrov, unsurprised and unembarrassed by the question.

You came aboard with a criminal. I wanted to make sure your story, at least, was true.

She felt oddly complimented. Petrov hadn’t thought
she’s just a girl;
he’d thought she might be a desperate criminal. He was the
first person the whole day who ha
d treated her like an adult. No, that wasn’t quite true.

Have you heard anything from Lieutenant Tokarov yet?


No. Not yet. These tunnels will play havoc with communications though, so that doesn’t necessarily signify anything untoward.


But you’re worried?

He raised an eyebrow.

What gives you that idea?

Katya shrugged.

I don’t know. Perhaps the way you’re so keen to explain away the fact he hasn’t reported in yet.

Petrov looked at her blankly. Then he smiled. It didn’t light up his face and looked like it rarely
had many opportunities
to show itself, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Your prodigious talents extend further than just navigation, I see. A student of human nature too.


Prodigious?


I read your card, remember. Your scores are excellent. With more experience you could walk onto any boat in the ocean and they’d be pleased to have you. I haven’t seen such impressive scores since, well, my own. I was something of a wunderkind too, you see.

The smile flickered briefly again.

Katya
’s gaze
seemed distant, and Petrov wondered wha
t she was seeing. Then she looked him in the eye and said,

My uncle’s dead.

She said it flatly, as if the words and their meaning had become disconnected in her mind.

Petrov’s smile instantly went.

Yes. I’m sorry.


What I don’t understand is, why don’t I care?

She shook her head.

I loved him. He was there for us right after papa died,
has
always been there. Why can’t I cry for him?


Perhaps,

said Petrov,

because he’s always been there. You know he’s gone but, part of you, a very great part of you does not believe it. You expect him to walk through the door at any minute.

She looked at the door, an open door aboard a boat Uncle Lukyan had never set foot aboard in his entire life. Yet somehow, she could see him in her mind’s eye, stepping around the frame, looking up and seeing her, that slightly prepossessed air that he usually carried turning to the great smile he’d reserved for her ever since she’d been born. She willed him to be there, for the whole thing to have been a dreadful mistake or a stupid joke. No Leviathan, no attack, no drowned corpse strapped into the wreck of the
Baby
. She couldn’t do it. She knew she could never do it. Finally she started to cry.

Petrov stood, unfolding himself easily out from the confinement of the table and chair and left her silently to her grief.

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