Mercenary Courage (Mandrake Company) (24 page)

As expected, the guard came in warily, his pistol pointed at Viktor’s chest—Viktor did not need to have his eyes open to know that. His clothing rustled faintly as he squatted down. The muzzle of the pistol jabbed Viktor in the chest twice. He did not react. After the third jab, the muzzle settled against his chest. The guard leaned in, and fingers brushed at Viktor’s throat.

The guard’s wariness made him tense, made his muscles slow to react. Viktor struck with the fluid rapidity of a viper, knocking aside the arm holding the pistol at the same time as he lunged up to grab the man’s throat.

The weapon went off, but far too many milliseconds late. The beam blasted against the wall. But only for an instant. The guard dropped his weapon to grab at the hand wrapped around his throat and attempted to scramble to his feet. Viktor scissor-kicked his foe’s legs out from under him, so that he landed on his back. Viktor slammed his elbow into the guard’s solar plexus, grabbed the pistol, and leaped out of the cell, worried that the second guard would return and raise the barrier before he could escape. But he made it out, spinning toward the security station at the same time as the guard ran into the corridor, a first-aid kit in one hand and a pistol in the other.

He fired as soon as he spotted his escaped prisoner, but Viktor anticipated the attack and shot at the same time, even as he rolled to the floor to avoid the blast. The laser sizzled through the air inches above him, but the guard cried out and grabbed his thigh. His lips reared back from his teeth in a pained grimace, and he tried to shoot again, but Viktor had covered ground with his roll and came up in front of the man. His fists a blur of movement, he struck the pistol aside and punched three times before his opponent could attempt to block the first.

Viktor yanked the injured man back to the cell and tossed him inside. His buddy was still on the floor, clutching his throat and struggling for air. Viktor pressed at the control panel, hoping anyone on the outside could operate it and that it wasn’t keyed to the guards’ fingerprints. The barrier should have gone back up, but it merely bleated at him. He glared at the men inside. He did not want to kill anyone to escape—then Station Security truly would have a reason to imprison him—but he didn’t want the guards calling for backup or giving chase later.

Without finesse, he tried pushing more buttons on the control panel. Still, nothing happened. Finally, he backed up and shot it. The panel squealed in protest, smoke wafting from the broken face. A
bzzzt
sounded, and the barrier returned.

“That works,” Viktor muttered and charged for the guard station up front.

He passed other cells occupied by prisoners, and several implored him with their hands or words, begging to be let out. His only thought was to get back to his ship, make sure Ankari and everyone else on the station was safe, and then find a way off of Midway 5 before anything else happened.

As he reached the end of the corridor and was about to turn into the security office, the door leading out of the jail area opened. A gray sphere flew inside and banged against the wall, not five feet from Viktor. Clamping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t inhale, he backed up even before yellowish smoke spewed from a nozzle. He had recognized the RK-374 label printed on the side—a Fleet-issue tear gas. There were some in the armory on the ship.

As quickly as he reacted, he still felt the lick of the yellow gas as it hissed into the air. He backed all the way down the corridor, then crouched at the end so he would make a small target. He pointed his pistol toward the guard station. The man who had gone for the first-aid kit must have called for backup. Viktor waited, his eyes half shut, not breathing, expecting security officers in gas masks to stride into view at any second.

But the sphere finished spewing its contents, and the air began to clear. Maybe they realized he was loose and were waiting to ambush him when he tried to come out. Viktor was about to step into one of the empty cells, so he could shoot around the corner and use the wall for cover, but the lingering gas in the air stirred. Though Viktor did not see anyone yet, he sensed a presence at the end of the corridor, right around the corner. He trained his weapon on that spot.

A tiny sphere floated into view, a camera lens visible on the side pointing toward Viktor. He shot it before it had time to record more than a second of him in the corridor. Then he jogged for the nearest empty cell, so he wouldn’t be where they expected him to be when men or robots finally came around the corner, weapons blazing.

But instead, someone spoke, the voice dry in tone. “That wasn’t an inexpensive camera, Captain.”

“Zharkov?” Viktor asked.

The familiar black-and-gray clad figure of his assassin stepped into sight. “Yes. We’re here to rescue you.”

A more familiar—and more welcome—figure came into view behind him. Ankari. She peered down the corridor, then spotted Viktor and smiled. “It looks like we’re too late. That’s unfortunate. I was hoping to prove to you how necessary we are and that you would be foolish to let us ever leave your ship.”

Even though less than a day had passed since they had been separated, emotion thickened Viktor’s throat. “You and Zharkov?” he asked, struggling for nonchalance. He might have rushed forward and embraced her, but not with his men looking on—he had also spotted Borage in the security room, nudging the spent sphere under a chair.

“Me and Lauren and Jamie,” Ankari said. “Mostly me.”

“I just want you to be safe.” Viktor strode forward, lifting an arm.

“I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.” Ankari squeezed past Sergei and wrapped her arms around Viktor. “Wait until you hear how much trouble I’ve gotten into while you were in jail.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, we need to visit a mafia ship next,” Sergei said, his tone still dry. “I suggested that it would be wiser to ignore whatever the mafia is up to here and get our butts out of town before Fleet gets to demonstrate exactly what it wants you for.”

“I think I know,” Viktor said. “Unless Borage and Azarov have found something different, I believe this all has to do with Fleet being irritated that it hasn’t gotten ahold of any of the ancient alien relics that popped into existence last month. I think they want the schematic we made of the holo-projector.”

“Ah,” Ankari said. “I should have thought of that. I was too busy trying to...”

“Solve a problem that has very little to do with us?” Jamie suggested, walking into the room. A man’s shoulder was visible outside of the doorway—Azarov standing guard presumably. They should not stay here long, though Viktor wasn’t sure where a safe place to go would be, a spot where they could not be tracked.

“Get the quarantine lifted so we can leave,” Ankari said firmly. “Except that then those mafia people could leave too. It seems like we should stop them.” She lifted her eyes toward Viktor, a question there.

“I need more details. But not here.” Viktor searched the guard station. He found his weapons and his duster jacket, but his comm-patch had been removed from it. Grumbling, he jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s get out of here before someone realizes the prisoners have run amok.”

They had barely left the detention facility when Ankari’s comm unit beeped.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I’m analyzing your gum,” came Lauren’s voice from the other end.

“Oh? Have you learned whether our mafia thug is at risk for colon cancer yet?”

Viktor almost missed a step. What
had
Ankari been up to during his brief stint in jail? Maybe she was right. Maybe she
shouldn’t
be left to roam the system on her own.

Wishful thinking, Viktor. And what would her mother say to that reasoning?

“I told you the gene sequencer is in our vandalized shuttle,” Lauren said.

“Vandalized?” Viktor mouthed.

“Just graffiti,” Ankari said.

Viktor slung his arm around her as they walked, following Sergei toward a stairwell. He seemed to have an idea as to where they should be going. Viktor needed to hear more about the mafia connection before deciding himself. He also wanted to find out how Sergei had slipped past the quarantine guards. If it might be possible for them all to return to the ship and simply
leave
, that had to be considered. Of course, station clamps were attached to all of the ships as part of the docking procedure, and if they did not have clearance to leave, the
Albatross
wouldn’t go anywhere.

“What
did
you find, Lauren?” Ankari asked. “Are you still there?”

“Hm, yes. I was double-checking my other results. The substance ground into the gum is talc.”

“Talc?” Ankari’s shoulders slumped. “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?”

“A clue that would lead us to the perpetrators’ whereabouts.”

“Well, they walked through talc at some point. There’s your clue.”

From the way Ankari’s lips thinned, she did not consider this much of a clue. It was true someone could have walked through spilled powder anywhere, but from his research on Nimbus, Viktor knew there were talc mines on Perun, one of the planet’s seven moons. There were also a couple on asteroids in the belt.

“It’s possible that a freighter carrying talc is docked on the station,” he said, though he didn’t yet know what all this was about.

Ankari lifted a hand, like she might dismiss the idea, then shrugged and glanced back. “Jamie, I know you already checked for a list of ships in dock and that wasn’t highly available information, but if you could access some of the cameras with displays of the exterior of the station, a mining freighter should be easy to pick out from a view of the outside.”

“I’ll check.” Jamie had her tablet out already, typing in commands as they walked.

Sergei opened the door and led them into the stairwell. He stopped there. Perhaps that was as far as he had considered for a destination.

“Anything else, Lauren?” Ankari asked. “Were you double-checking something related to the blood sample, perhaps?”

“Blood sample?” Viktor asked, meeting his men’s eyes, since the women were busy.

Borage and Azarov shrugged.

“I acquired it from a recently deceased man.” Sergei smiled tightly. “I’ve been working for the ladies.”

“Does Garland know you left the ship?” Viktor asked.

“I might have forgotten to tell him that my services were requested elsewhere.”

“You’re not supposed to tell commanding officers that you’re leaving; you’re supposed to ask them.”

“Oh, is that how it works here?” Sergei asked. “The
Albatross
always seemed to have looser regulations than the Fleet.”

“Uh huh. How did you leave the ship? I assume the quarantine is still in place.”

“Yes.” Sergei winked. “I left sneakily.”

“Lend me your tablet, will you?” Viktor asked. “I don’t know what Security did with my gear, and I want to check the station news.”

“Am I expecting too much?” Ankari was saying in response to Lauren. She handed Viktor her tablet. “I know you’re in a primitive lab,” she went on in a sweet voice, “but with your skills, I thought you might come up with more than these simple station doctors have.”

“Here’s what I have,” Lauren said, not sounding impressed by the sweet voice or flattery. “It’s not a microorganism. It’s venom. Those people were infected with a slow-acting venom. It’s a custom job.”

“Meaning it didn’t come from an animal? Someone made it in a lab?”

“Precisely. With some time—and better equipment—I might be able to deduce who made it. There are a few experts who come to mind immediately who do high-quality freelance work.”

“If it was manmade, what about the bite marks?” Ankari said. “All of the bodies had them. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Viktor thought of the body he had investigated in the pet shop, of the two puncture wounds spaced less than an inch apart. At the time, he had guessed some animal sold in the store had been responsible, but they had all been in cages. The only free-roaming creatures he had seen on the station were in the atrium.

“The miniature dragons,” he suggested. He recalled spotting a pair of fangs, even if all of the creatures in the atrium had seemed benevolent. “They’re manmade creatures to start with. Originally by the druids, I assume, but maybe someone added a couple more to the pack recently.”

Ankari clasped Viktor’s hand. “Did you hear that, Lauren? What do you think?”

“I don’t have any evidence to suggest the vector. You’ll have to investigate that on your own.”

“All right. Thank you, Lauren.”

“Will you be coming to pick me up now?”

“I have one more lab request for you,” Ankari said. “Put together all of the evidence you’ve gathered in a nice paper that would be simple enough for a reporter with little medical expertise to understand.”

“How soon would you need this? You do realize that this time spent away from the mission of our business is wasted, don’t you?”

“Since you aren’t inclined to go back to the graffiti-covered shuttle, you can’t be working on our business mission, regardless, right? Please, Lauren. I’d offer to give you more shares in the company for your help, but money doesn’t seem to motivate you. What if I find you a nice young man to take you out to dinner regularly and rub your shoulders after a long day hunched over the microscope?”

“I’d rather have a robot do that.”

“Jamie can make you one,” Ankari said with enthusiasm that seemed quite real.

Jamie, who had been diligently scouring the network, raised her eyebrows at this. “Will
I
get bonus shares for doing this extra work?”

“No, but I bet I can get your nice young man to rub your shoulders for you.”

“I will rub anything she wishes,” Sergei said.

“I... am not sure I came out on top of that negotiation,” Jamie said.

“Get used to it,” Viktor said.

Ankari elbowed him. “Like you can talk. I’ve never yet come out on top with you.”

“You’ve been on top several times,” he murmured, giving her his bedroom eyes, even if it wasn’t the time for it.

It was worth it to see her glance around, cheeks flushing.