Sertian Princess (20 page)

Francesco opened a channel on his helmet communicator and called the Cleopatra, all the while keeping the laser rifle trained squarely on the steward.  He spoke for a minute and paused, obviously waiting for a reply.  When it came he relaxed visibly, lowering the rifle to the floor and raising his blast shield to reveal a friendly grin.

"Ok.  Control knows about it.  Apparently the Princess Nerissa of Serta is on her way down here.  That hers is it?"  He indicated the case.

"Yeah, that's right.  I was told to put it on the shuttle."

"Launch," Francesco corrected him.  "It's a launch.  But you can't go in there.  Leave the case here and I'll see it gets put aboard."

"Can't do that," he said, clutching the case to him.  "I got my orders.  I got to see to it personal, that this 'ere case gets aboard that shuttle."

"Launch," Francesco said again.  "And I've got my orders too.  No-one, but no-one, goes aboard that launch."

“‘Av it yer own way," he said.  "But I'll just 'av to stay 'ere wiv it, then.  You see," he leaned forward to whisper to Francesco.  "It seems as 'ow this case is a bit valuable like.  I mean look at this."

He brought his hand up close to Francesco's face and snapped the phial, cutting his finger in the process.  He swore softly and sucked at the cut as Francesco crumpled to the floor.  He could not, for the moment, remember what effects the drug had if taken direct into the blood stream, but he popped a stim pill to try to minimize them anyway. The next task was to set up a couple of area alarms in the main corridor, one on either side of the corner, to give himself a few seconds warning of anybody approaching.

Then he could turn his attention to the unconscious guard.  He knew that he would be out for at least half an hour but there was almost certainly less than that available before the boarding party started to return.  In that time he had to get aboard the launch and alter sufficient of the ship's records to allow him to pass through the internal security checks.

Access control on board Imperial Navy Ships was normally achieved by a combination of visual palm print recognition and precise measurement of the body's bio-electrical field, both of which were "unique" in their own right.  While Medical and Physical Science was sufficiently advanced for even this doubly unique combination of characteristics to be forged, it required equipment and expertise beyond that of the most skilful field agent.  So, instead, the unfortunate Francesco was to be a large and rather cumbersome key.  That was why he had only knocked him out instead of killing him outright.  The bio-electrical field of a corpse would quickly degenerate and the "key" would be useless.

He tried to lift the body but quickly gave up in disgust.  Naval space armour was certainly not as lightweight as its manufacturers liked to claim.  He stripped the armour off and hid it in a locker containing some space suits.  Lifting the now considerably lighter body onto his shoulder, he opened the airlock door and went in.  The inner door cycled shut behind him; the pattern of status lights changed; and the outer door cycled slowly open to reveal the Li-Matsu connecting tube leading to the Cleopatra's launch.

As he hoped the outer door of the launch's airlock had been left open.  He set Francesco on the airlock floor and went back to the liner to collect the attaché case.  It was on his way back through the airlock for the second time that he knew he had trouble.  It started with a sudden feeling of nausea, dizziness, blurred vision and a cold clammy feeling on the skin of his belly which spread rapidly across the rest of his body.  That damned drug: he could remember the symptoms now.  He popped another stim pill and felt the tension ease as the worst of the symptoms receded.

Back in the launch's airlock he set down the case and lifted Francesco to his feet.  Holding the rating's arm by the elbow so that his own bio-electrical field would not affect the reading, he placed Francesco's palm against the sensor plate.  The light flickered green for a second and then held steady as the airlock cycled.  With the case in one hand he half carried, half dragged the unconscious body into the launch and over to the nearest computer console.

From the attaché case he removed a small box which opened to reveal a cut down keypad and a miniature display screen.  He pulled out a cable from the back of the box and plugged it in to the universal connector on the side of the console.  Then he lifted Francesco's hand to the sensor and the terminal flashed into life.

***

L/A FRANCESCO GALILEO

ENTER PASSWORD >

Francesco Galileo.  So that was his name.  He typed the name on the small keypad, flicked one of the function switches on the box and sat back to wait as it hunted for the correct password.  The processor in the box was pre-programmed with the latest and most sophisticated search algorithm based on a statistical analysis of the correlation between a person's name and the range of passwords they tended to use. Even so the number of possible combinations was enormous and the computer automatically terminated the login sequence after every five password failures.  Most of the time his search processor could detect a failure just as it was starting to occur and was quick enough to abort the termination sequence.  But several times it misread the signs and the search aborted with the angry message

****************

ACCESS VIOLATION

****************

Each time he had to clear the screen by replacing Francesco's hand on the sensor and then hit the resume button on the box.  It took over five of his precious minutes before the screen finally cleared and the access was complete.  He called up the Help menu and selected Medical Records.  Finding Francesco's records was no problem but attempting to change them threw up the next hurdle.

**********************

INSUFFICIENT AUTHORITY

     ACCESS DENIED

**********************

He resisted the temptation to sigh.  After all it should not be straightforward to ransack a naval computer system.  He continued typing

SET OVERRIDES

and was rewarded with

ENTER OVERRIDES AUTHORITY >

He selected another function switch on the little box and settled back to wait again.  The search took longer this time because there was no starting information to help the search algorithm.  The password for the Overrides Authority would have been set centrally and so he had no name to enter.  Another valuable eight minutes ticked by before the search algorithm threw up the valid authority code.

Hurriedly now, for time was running out, he inserted the little silver disc containing his own Medical Records into the slot on the console and started the update process.  While he was waiting for the update to complete, he packed away the small box, its usefulness now at an end, and concealed the attaché case in one of the equipment lockers. The update process seemed interminable.  As soon as it finished he retrieved the little disc and cleared down the console.  Then came the ultimate test.  He put his own hand over the sensor plate and the screen responded.

***

L/A FRANCESCO GALILEO

ENTER PASSWORD >

If the main computer system accepted him as Galileo then the Access Control system should also.  He dragged Francesco's body back into the airlock, it could not be hidden on the launch, and this time placed his own hand on the airlock sensor.  The airlock cycled and he lifted Francesco through the Li-Matsu and back into the liner.

Satisfied that he had no further need for a live Francesco, he killed him with a needle dipped in a rare poison from Linnayus IV and which was virtually undetectable except by very sophisticated tests.  He could not, after all, leave a witness around to give his description after he had gone.  He retrieved the armour from the locker with the space suits, replaced it with Francesco's body and again welded the lock shut to delay detection.

As he started to don the space armour, the second attack came.  He popped another stim pill.  Was that 2 or 3 he had taken now?  He knew he must keep track of them and forced himself to concentrate as the drugs fought it out inside his body.  It must be three, he worked out. That meant he could only take one more with any degree of safety in this short a period of time.

Fortunately the effects of this attack did not seem any worse than the first one and were already wearing off.  He finished putting on the armour just as his wrist repeater warned him that one of the area alarms had been activated.  Someone was approaching.  He dropped the blast shield on his helmet and snapped into the alert position just as the party rounded the corner.

"Halt!  In the name of His Imperial Majesty."

CHAPTER 20

David erupted onto the bridge of the Salamander in a flurry of commands which scattered the assembled officers.  Simon stood his ground long enough to formally hand over command of the ship and then fled with the others to make preparations for immediate departure.

From the zerograv chute behind him, Crown Prince Gerald emerged with a little more caution and surveyed the room appreciatively.

"This is a very impressive setup you have here, Lord David."

"Thank you, your Highness.  We are quite pleased with it.  I had it designed and fitted out to my particular specifications.  I'll take you round and introduce you to everybody in a minute.  Meanwhile come and have a look at the tank."

"Can I first make some arrangements for my men?"

David stopped dead in the middle of the floor.  "Of course.  I'm so sorry.  I should have thought."

He turned and led the way over to where Julia was working.

"Your Highness, can I introduce Julia, the head of internal security and responsible for the safety and comfort of all our guests. Julia, this is Crown Prince Gerald of Serta.  He has a squad of Imperial Guardsmen down in the docking bay.  Can you find some accommodation for them and get somebody to show them around?"

“Welcome aboard, your Highness.  The arrangements for your men are already in hand.  Sam is preparing a suite of cabins now and two of the girls are already on their way down to collect your men."

"Julia.  Thank you very much.  And thank you also for looking after my men."

"It's my pleasure, your Highness.  I am having one of our special suites made ready for your use."

"Wait a minute," David interrupted.  "Have Sam prepare the guest suite in my quarters.  Prince Gerald and I will have some things to discuss."

"Of course, my lord.  And if there's anything else I can do for your Highness, anything at all, just let me know."

"Thank you Julia.  I will remember."

"Right, now let's see where that damn freighter is."  David indicated the display tank in the centre of the bridge.

The display was already centred on the flashing red dot that represented the Palomar.  Off in the top right hand corner of the tank, a cluster of green dots showed the Aldebaran and the ships grouped around her: Salamander, Cleopatra, Antares and the captured Rigellian frigate, Mastodon.

"Show me the Palomar's track, Sam."

A solid red line appeared in the tank leading from the group of green dots down to the red dot of the freighter.

"Extrapolate," David commanded.

The red line extended itself as a series of dashes beyond the freighter's current position, linking eventually with the white dot of a star system on the far side of the display.

"Is that still Parm she's headed for?"

"Yes boss."

"How long before she gets there?"

"Her ETA at the edge of Parm Controlled Space is just over five hours, boss."

"And how soon can we get there?"

"Under three hours if you want to burn enough energy."

"Dammit Sam, I'm not concerned about the energy cost.  Lay in the fastest course you can to the far side of the Parm System and make sure we materialise well outside their scanner range.  We leave as soon as the Cleopatra gets under way."

David turned to Prince Gerald.  "You can tell your men to get their heads down for a few hours.  There's nothing we can do until that freighter's on the ground."

"And then what?"

David looked appraisingly at the young Guards Officer.

“If the stories I hear are even half true, that squad of yours is roughly the equivalent of a small army.  If I can deliver you undetected to Parm spacefield, can you neutralise the ground defences and the barracks?"

Gerald nodded.  "I'll need plans of the spaceport.  Can you supply them or should I contact Regimental HQ?"

"Sam will have something in the archives.  May be a little out of date though.  We haven't had much contact with Parm for a few years now."

"It doesn't matter.  We'll take what you've got and improvise the rest.  What about you?  Have you any idea where they'll take the Lady Zara?"

"Probably the Administration Complex, if they get the chance.  Now, as far as I can remember, that place is a rabbit warren.  Once they're in there, it'll take hours if not days to winkle them out."

"So what are you planning to do?  Hit them while they're still at the spacefield?"

"Right.  Once the freighter's down and has got her drives shut off, we'll give them a few minutes to go through DeCon procedures and then come in hard and fast."

"But surely they'll see us coming?"

"You may be right," David said with a smile.  "But that's the only way they will detect us.  Visually."

Gerald looked as puzzled as he was intended to be, so David went on.  "That shuttle that brought us over.  It's got a few interesting modifications.  It's got a radar profile of almost zero, mass detector neutralisation equipment and programmable drones to confuse the infrared emission detectors.  The only way they'll know we're there is if they can see us with the naked eye and by the time they do that, it'll be too late."

"But if you put out drones, there'll be so much noise on their screens they'll know something's going on."

"Possibly true," David agreed.  "But they won't have anything to train their weapons systems on.  And if we come in low and fast, below their horizon, they won't be able to react fast enough once they do see us."

"My lord."  Simon came across towards them with one of the mobile repeater screens floating waist high behind him.  "There's a message come through from the Aldebaran.  Do you want me to put it up on the mobile here?"

"No, just give me the gist of it."

"They've completed a full rollcall on the liner and they've got two missing persons: one steward and one of the passengers.  They've sent across the details."

"Well we haven't got them here or Sam would've been yelling by now.  Relay the message to the Cleopatra and the Antares.  And ask the Antares to check the details against the list of prisoners."

"Yes my lord.  And if they're not there?"

"The only other group we can't account for is on board the Palomar.  Maybe they're prisoners, maybe they were involved in the raid.  There's no way of telling at the moment."

***

As the message was being relayed to the Imperial Ships, the person primarily responsible for the deficiency in the Aldebaran's rollcall was making his way to the Cleopatra's sickbay.  He had failed to completely disguise the last attack which had occurred just as he was boarding the Cleopatra from the launch.  He might have got away with it even then if it had been anyone other than Anton that he had stumbled into.  The Surgeon had steadied him and when he had recovered his balance, ordered him to report immediately to the sickbay.

On reflection he decided, as he made his way aft, it could have been a very fortuitous stumble.  If he had gone straight off-duty, he would have had considerable difficulty in avoiding Galileo's messmates who would have recognised him immediately as an imposter, and he could not reasonably keep the armoured space helmet on for much longer without attracting attention.  In the sickbay however, the Surgeon, being an officer, might or might not recognise him.  If he knew the real Galileo he would have to be killed, if not the sickbay seemed like an excellent place to lie low for a while.

He entered the tiny sickbay with Anton hard on his heels.

"Now then, let's get that armour off and have a look at you.  You are...."

"Galileo, sir.  Leading Artificer Galileo."

"Galileo, eh.  I don't think I've seen you before have I?"

"No sir.  Normally pretty fit, sir.  I just don't know what's the matter with me now."

"Ok.  Well lie down over there and we'll let the diagnosis unit have a look at you."

He relaxed a little as he lay down on the examination table and watched as Anton called up his medical records and input them to the diagnosis unit.  He felt a very fine vibration as the examination table hummed into life and began measuring his vital signs.  Obviously the transfer of his own medical records had been successful or the examination would have halted in some confusion by now.

Anton watched the dancing traces across the screen as the diagnosis built up patterns of actual readings against expected.

"It looks like some kind of reaction, either drug or maybe a viral reaction.  The only drugs I can find any trace of, though, are some uppers.  Have you taken any stim pills recently?"

"Well, yes sir.  I took some when I started to feel queer on the liner, sir."

"Hmm.  And have you ever had this sort of reaction from them before?"

"Well I don't use them very often, sir....  But no sir, never."

"Ok.  That leaves us with the virus theory.  Where did you get that cut on your finger?"

"I don't know, sir.  I didn't notice a cut."

"Was it on the liner?"

"I don't know, sir.  I suppose it might have been."

"Think man.  Did you at any time take your glove off while you were on the liner?"

"Well, yes sir.  Come to think of it, I do remember snagging my finger."

"Hmm.  It looks quite inflamed.  Whatever it is you've picked up, it was probably through that cut.  I'm going to give you some general antiviral serum and keep you in sickbay for observation for a while. See what develops."

Anton loaded a phial of serum into the injector and pressed it lightly against the man’s wrist.

"Now you take that berth over there and have a rest.  I'm going to run a quick check on the rest of the boarding party.  See whether anyone else has got any reaction.

"Try to get some sleep now and I'll be back to see you in an hour or so."

***

"Cleopatra's underway, my lord."

David acknowledged the report and turned to look at the main viewscreen where the Aldebaran and the Cleopatra could be clearly seen. The other two ships, the Antares and the Mastodon, were off to one side of the screen and much further away.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first and then with increasing rapidity, the angle between the ships altered as the Cleopatra gained way.

"How long till she jumps?"  David asked Simon.

“Seven minutes, my lord."

"Have you any last minute messages for the Cleopatra?"  David looked at Prince Gerald standing beside him.  "Contact will be patchy once we both start moving."

"No.  There's nothing that hasn't been said already," the young officer replied.  "Or that wouldn't be better left until later.  She's still very upset."

They watched in silence as the Cleopatra edged away from the other ships, picking up speed all the time.  The angle between the two ships on the viewscreen was visibly larger now as the corvette manoeuvred far enough away to make the subspace jump in safety, without being affected by the fields of the other ships.

There was a brief flare of energy, the merest flicker on the screen and the Cleopatra blinked out of existence from that point in the space-time continuum and reappeared an instant later nearly 100 light-years nearer to Serta.

"Ok, she's on her way.  Now let's get moving ourselves.  I want to be in position well before that damn freighter gets there."

"My lord, there's another message from the Aldebaran."  The interruption came from Simon again.

"Well, what is it?  Their missing persons turned up have they?"

"Yes my lord.  That is, one of them has.  The steward.  But he's dead, my lord."

"Casualty of the raid?" inquired Prince Gerald.

"Possibly, your Highness.  But there are some rather unusual features."

"What unusual features?"

"Well the reason they missed the body on the first search of the ship was because it had been hidden in a wardrobe and the door lock welded shut with what looks like a high powered laser.  Also the body had been stripped to its underclothes and the steward’s uniform was missing."

"Cause of death?" David asked.

"The report doesn't mention the cause of death, my lord."

"Well find out then.  Ask the Aldebaran for further details."

"Yes, my lord."

David turned to Prince Gerald.  "It sounds as though somebody wanted the steward’s uniform.  But why?  To hide until next planetfall. That's seven days away.  He must have known he couldn't get away with it that long."

"People under pressure don't always work things out rationally," Gerald replied.  "Maybe he panicked.  Killed the steward by mistake and took the uniform to delay identification."

"Maybe.  But I don't entirely believe it.  Concealing the body like that smells of calm professionalism to me.  Not panic."

"Aldebaran's replying, my lord."  Simon looked up from the comms panel where he had been working feverishly.  "Cause of death was determined as a broken neck."

"A broken neck?"  Prince Gerald repeated in astonishment.