Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4) (16 page)

~ ~ ~

Bairam slammed his fist on the table.
“Damn
those elitist Qianjin scum! They’re convicts just like us, so what the hell gives them the right to act like they’re better than us? They wouldn’t help us fight during the rebellion, and now when we’ve got an open road outta here they won’t help us take it! It’s always them first and the Devil take the rest of us!”

The three surviving members of the leadership council looked at him in glum desperation. “Couldn’t the Governor offer a reward to whoever volunteered for the job?” Luna asked.

“He says he tried that, an’ all his spacers turned him down flat.”

“If I was in their shoes I’d probably feel that way too,” Mariam pointed out unwillingly.

“Yeah,” Orhan agreed. “I can’t blame them – even though it puts us in a hell of a spot.”

Bairam snorted. “Well,
I
blame ’em! We’re all convicts together on this rock, even though they seem t’ have forgotten that!” He thought for a moment. “Wait while I call Turgay. We need expert advice.”

They sat in silence until he returned with the older man. He explained the situation to Turgay. “What I need to know is, how many people do we need to run a freighter like that? What’s the minimum crew it’ll need?”

Turgay thought for a moment. “To run the ship itself, a minimum of ten spacers per shift, times three shifts, rotating every four hours. Call it thirty all told, including at least one officer on each shift. At least half a dozen will have to be engineering techs, and it’d help to have a qualified engineer aboard in case something goes wrong. Trouble is, you’ll need a lot more than that to handle so many passengers. They’ve got to have at least two meals every day, and the environmental systems will take a lot of strain. They’ll need hands to maintain them and fix ’em when they break down. How long will the journey take? Where’s the ship going?”

“I’d rather not say just yet, in case it leaks out. Let’s say the trip will take two to three weeks.”

“OK. That’s a big load on the environmental systems over a long period. They’re bound to give trouble.” He thought in silence once more, then said, “Reckon at least twenty people per shift to get food from storage and prepare it, and look after the environmental systems. Some will have to be pretty good handymen, and you’ll need experienced galley staff as well – cooks an’ so on. Adding them to your spacers, you’re looking at thirty people per shift, ninety total in the crew, at least a third of them qualified spacers. That’s a rock-bottom minimum. More would be better.”

“You’re figuring on four-hour shifts, right?” Orhan asked, and Turgay nodded. “Could the crew work longer shifts – say, eight hours on instead of four? Wouldn’t that reduce crew numbers?”

The old spacer shook his head. “People get tired. When they’re tired they make mistakes. When they get very tired – and after a couple of weeks of that schedule, they will – they make very big mistakes. There’s a universe full of vacuum out there. It only takes one error for it to kill you. Trust me. I know. I’ve seen too many experienced spacers die to have any illusions about that.”

“Okay, we need ninety people,” Bairam interrupted. “You said you’d ask around. How many spacers did you find?”

“There’s me an’ five others. Four of ’em have enough experience and training to be useful. The fifth had just started his apprenticeship when he got caught aboard a smuggler and sent here. He may be able to help in a small way, but no more than that.”

“No officers? No engineers or techs?”

“I’m the most senior spacer you got. I could do a Watch Officer’s job if I had to, but I can’t astrogate. O’ course, that ain’t necessarily a problem once the course has been calculated. After it’s entered into the navigation computers, all I’d have to do is tell the ship to jump to the next waypoint as soon as the capacitor ring was recharged. We’ll still need someone to do the setup, though.”

“All right. If we can find a crew, we’re gonna send everyone away on the ship except a few who’ll stay here to guard some hostages. We’ll put ’em in orbit in a cargo shuttle or something like that, with basic facilities an’ enough food to last until a message can get back here sayin’ the others made it. How many spacers would we need to handle something like that for a month to six weeks?”

Turgay frowned. “I don’t get it. How will they get away afterwards if the ship’s long gone?”

“Never mind that for now, and don’t worry about guardin’ the hostages. You don’t have to be a spacer to be a guard. How many?”

“At least two spacers to a shift, times three shifts a day. That makes six. At least one of ’em would have to be the equivalent of a Watch Officer.”

“All right. We need thirty-six spacers in all – our five plus thirty-one more – and sixty support workers who don’t have to be spacers, so our regular folks can do those jobs. Thanks, Turgay. That gives me a target to shoot for. Don’t go far away. I’m gonna need you again real soon now.”

“OK, Boss.”

As the spacer closed the door behind him, Bairam turned to the others. “So now we know how many we need. I guess it’s time to show the Governor we ain’t jokin’.”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked nervously.

“We’re gonna kill some hostages.”

She jumped to her feet.
“Not the kids!
No way! I –”

Bairam erupted from his chair.
“SHUT UP!”
Rage made his voice tremble as his right hand clutched the grips of the pulser thrust into his waistband. Luna goggled at him, momentarily speechless, as he went on, “There’s no time left to play nice! We’ve got hostages, an’ we’re gonna use up as many of them as we need to get off this rock. That’s the way it is. You got two choices, Luna. Get with the program, or I’ll kill you where you stand. Choose, an’ choose
real
quick, or I’m gonna pick the second option for you! I’ve had enough of your crap!”

Mariam spoke up from her seat at the table. Her voice was cold. “He’s right, Luna. We’re down to the wire now. There’s no place for sentimentality anymore.”

Luna looked appealingly at Orhan, but he stared back impassively. “That’s the way it’s gotta be. Sorry, Luna. There’s no other way.”

Her shoulders slumped. She began to sit as she said softly, “If there’s no other way…” Her hands reached for the table to support herself, then suddenly changed direction as she thrust the chair back with her legs. She threw herself sideways as she grabbed at her handgun, but Bairam hadn’t been fooled. His pulser came clear of his waistband as he straightened, his arms braced in a double-handed shooting stance, and he tracked her body through his sights as she fell to the floor. Before she even landed he pumped a round into her body, then another as she cried out in agony and hit the bare floor, followed by a third into her head as she arched her back. Her body jerked, then went limp. Her pulser fell from her hand to the floor with a clatter.

Bairam replaced his pulser in his waistband, then bent and picked up her weapon, reapplying the safety catch and setting it on the table in front of his chair. “That’s it, then. Three of us leaders left. I’ll tell Luna’s second to take over her unit. I’m guessin’ neither of you has any objection to us getting real with the Governor?”

Orhan shrugged. “It’s not like he’s left us much choice. What do you want us to do?”

“We’ll assign a letter to each place we hold, A through D. Inside each place we’ll number the hostages, one through however many there are. Give ’em slips of paper with their number on it, or write a number next to each name on the list – whatever works for you. I’ll tell the Governor that we’re gonna draw one letter an’ one number every hour on the hour, startin’ at eight tomorrow mornin’. That hostage is gonna get shoved out the door an’ shot in full view of everyone. No-one’s exempt – male or female, old or young, whatever. We’re gonna do that all day tomorrow, then at eight the next morning we’ll go to one every half an hour. The following day it’ll be one every quarter hour. If he tries to stop us, we’ll blow our explosives an’ all die together. If he wants to stop the killin’, he’ll have t’ find some way to make thirty-one of those Qianjin spacers help us. If they won’t he’s gonna see a lot of his people die, includin’ his wife when her number comes up.”

None of them had noticed the tiny spider-like creature crouched in a poorly-lit corner of the ceiling. Its two glass ‘eyes’ surveyed the room with unblinking intensity. The ultra-sensitive microphone mounted below them relayed every sound in the room to another, larger nanobug on the floor immediately above. That bug in turn passed its signals through several more relays to an almost invisible hoversat high above the compound, which sent them through a tight-beam laser link into the Marine battalion’s Operations Center.

Inside the OpCen Lieutenant-Colonel Battista and Major Emory stood riveted as they watched the drama play out. As Bairam outlined his plans, Emory sucked in his breath. “That’s going to play hell, Sir! The Qianjin spacers won’t budge. They’ve no reason to trust the Governor, and even less to trust the rebels who’ve already killed so many of them. This is going to be a case of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object.”

Battista shook his head. “You’re right, but the Governor may try to force them to co-operate anyway. He’ll do anything to prevent mass murder, and as far as he’s concerned the fate of a few more convicts – which is how he sees those spacers – matters less than the lives of innocent hostages.”

“We’d better give Maxwell a heads-up. He’ll have to tell the Qianjin leaders about this.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if he kept quiet about it, so they didn’t have any warning?”

“They’re already armed, Sir, and they already suspect the Governor’s intentions. The only way he could arrest them is to pull enough of the Colonial Guards away from the hostage sites to overcome their resistance. If he does that, the rebels are bound to see it happening and launch attacks of their own. If we want to prevent that happening and stop a bloodbath, it’s going to be up to Maxwell to pull a rabbit out of the hat somehow.”

~ ~ ~

Steve stared into the comm terminal, stomach turning to ice as he absorbed what Lieutenant-Colonel Battista had just told him.

“I… I’ll talk to them again, Sir,” he said at last, desperation in his tone, “but I already know what their answer’s going to be. It’s…” His voice died away as a sudden thought came to him.
What if I can use the jade knife as a bargaining counter?
He didn’t realize that his mouth was still open as he stood there, eyes far away as he pondered.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” He didn’t miss the sudden flicker of hope in Battista’s voice.

“I may have thought of something,” he said slowly. “I don’t know whether it will work, and there’s a lot to figure out, but… There’s one thing, Sir. If I’m to make this work, I’m going to have to move fast and do an awful lot without having time to ask permission. I need a free hand, Sir – permission to do whatever I have to and whatever it takes to make this succeed.”

“You know I can’t override Captain Davis’ orders, right?” Steve nodded. “Apart from that, yes, insofar as you’re assigned to my command at present, I’ll trust you with
carte blanche.
Your previous performance justifies that. Use whatever you need and do whatever you have to do to save the hostages. Can you give me an idea of what you have in mind?”

“You really don’t want to know, Sir.”

“Oh… You know what that may mean for you personally?”

“What’s that when weighed against the lives of all those kids, Sir?”

Battista sighed. “I take your point.”

“Yes, Sir. Let me see if I can put something together. It may not be possible, but I’ll do my best. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“Carry on, then.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

Steve looked around the commcen. “Sergeant O’Donnell, where’s the Qianjin
chargé d’affaires?”

“Last I saw of him he was headed to bed, Sir.”

“Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

Jiang was grumpy at being awoken from a sound sleep, but forgot his ill temper as he peered at Steve’s face. Even in the dim glow shed by the night lighting system, he could see that the officer’s face was lined and drawn with tension.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d rather not talk here,” Steve replied quietly. “There are others within hearing. Will you walk with me outside the walls? There’s something very important I’ve got to discuss with you. It can’t wait.”

“Let me put on my clothes. I’ll meet you outside.”

They walked in silence to the depot’s main gate, nodding to the sentries on duty, who opened one leaf of the entrance to let them through. “Don’t walk too far beyond the walls, please, Sir,” one cautioned them. “Our sensors don’t show anything out there, but you never know.”

“We’ll be careful,” Steve promised.

He led Jiang about twenty meters clear of the wall, ensuring that no casual listener on top of or behind them could hear their conversation; then he began a circuit of the perimeter. As they walked, he explained to Jiang what the Marines had learned about events that night at the meeting of the rebel’s leadership council.

Jiang drew in his breath with an audible hiss. “This man shot one of
his own leaders
because she wasn’t ruthless enough?”