The emergency lights stayed up, and they weren’t run on lines.
“Sale. Radko’s in trouble.”
“So are we, Ean. A class-two warship’s just arrived.”
“Two now,” Craik said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: DOMINIQUE RADKO
Jakob left the images of the linesmen on-screen. Radko didn’t relax until she saw the first soldiers arrive with oxygen. There was something about watching linesmen, and not being able to help, that made her feel helpless.
“I’m not liking the silence from your man, Rigg,” Jakob told Bach.
“You know ops. They seldom go to plan,” but Bach looked at Radko as if he wanted to ask if she knew what was happening.
Radko would rather spit on him than tell him anything.
Jakob’s comms sounded.
“Warship Hellfire in position,” reported the man who’d called.
Another call followed immediately after. “Warship Brimstone in position.”
“About time something went to plan. Attack the alien ship.”
“What about my people on that ship?” Bach demanded.
“They’re not responding. We can only assume they’re not in control.”
Radko hid her grin. He’d be right about that.
The door opened.
Radko heard the distinctive hum of a blaster on stun. Jakob collapsed.
Stellan Vilhjalmsson. And Han.
Vilhjalmsson had fired.
The lights went out, leaving emergency lighting on the floor as the only source of illumination. The sound of Ean singing came through the speakers. Line eight, Radko guessed, but nothing happened.
Han’s weapon was pointing at Bach. He made an “Oh” of recognized horror, pushed his blaster up and away at the last moment, and fired into the ceiling instead.
Bach’s own weapon was out by then.
He fired.
Han went down.
There was no associated smell of burning. Bach, at least, had his blaster on stun.
Bach turned to Vilhjalmsson. Vilhjalmsson had already moved. Bach fired wide, to where the assassin would have been if he’d moved at his usual speed.
“You’re slowing down, Vilhjalmsson.”
Even Bach knew the assassin.
Vilhjalmsson grunted. “If it saves my life.”
Van Heel and Chaudry burst into the room.
“Fire on the right,” Radko said, urgently. “Van Heel, take the man on the right out.”
Thank goodness the lights were too dim for her to recognize Bach immediately. Otherwise, she’d stop, like Han had.
Van Heel fired. She missed but distracted Bach long enough for Vilhjalmsson to kick the weapon out of Bach’s hand.
“Chaudry. Get me out of this chair.”
“I can’t see,” Chaudry said.
“Ean.”
The lights came back up.
Van Heel made a sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp. “Sir.” She started to hold out her weapon.
“Don’t,” Radko said sharply. “He’s a traitor. Chaudry,” for Chaudry didn’t seem to recognize him and was stolidly working on the fastenings. “Cover Bach. Don’t let him near a weapon. Van Heel, come and free me.”
Chaudry covered Bach.
Van Heel came over to work on the clips. She lowered her voice. “Do you know who he is?”
“Of course I do. That makes his being a traitor even worse.”
“How do you know he’s a traitor?”
Bach seemed to watch Vilhjalmsson, rather than them, although Radko was sure he knew exactly what they were doing and would seize any opportunity.
The restraining bands around her shoulders fell away. She flexed them as she watched Vilhjalmsson. That last kick seemed to have done some damage, for he was moving carefully, and a light sheen of sweat showed on his face.
“Why were you working with Han?” She had to assume he was, for he had worked against Jakob and Bach.
“Escape, pure and simple. It suited us both.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Han was the only one left when I arrived at the labs on Aeolus. He’d overheard where you were being evacuated to. We joined forces to get onto the station. Unfortunately, I was captured not long after. He found me while he was looking for you.”
“Radko.” Ean’s voice was urgent through the speaker. “You have to hurry.”
The bands around her wrists fell away.
“I can’t control line eight on the station. It doesn’t understand.”
“That’s fine, Ean. We’re good. We’re armed,” as van Heel handed her a blaster.
“What happened to the woman, Sale, who was telling us what to do?” Chaudry asked. He, too, was watching Vilhjalmsson—with the professional eye of a doctor. “We need to stabilize your back.”
“Sale’s here,” Ean said. “You need to get to a shuttle, Radko. The station commander has weapons ready to fire, and he’s sent soldiers down to where you are. If you don’t leave soon, there won’t be any passages to leave by.” A pause. “And we’ve got a problem our end.”
Radko knew what that problem would be. “Two warships?”
“Yes.”
Warships weren’t something Radko could worry about. “You worry about the warships, Ean. We’ll get to the shuttles. Right,” she added, as van Heel loosened the bindings around her ankles. She stood up. “Let’s go.” Radko pointed her weapon at Bach. “Chaudry, can you take Han?”
Chaudry hoisted Han over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Ready.”
“I’ve sung the doors open,” Ean said. “Hurry.”
Radko stopped first, to go through Jakob’s pockets. He had three comms. She took them all, and made sure they were zipped securely in her pocket before anything else. Then she indicated with her blaster. “You’re coming with us, Bach. You’ll be tried for treason against Lancia.”
Bach smiled faintly. “We’ll see.” He moved toward the door. “Which way?”
“Follow the open doors,” Radko said.
They turned left outside the door because the passage to the right was blocked by massive breach doors. Ean, bless him, had closed every single door they didn’t need. They moved as fast as they could but, hampered as they were by Chaudry’s load and Vilhjalmsson’s back, they were slow.
Every soldier on ship would be at the shuttle bay by the time they got there.
Radko didn’t think about that. Worry about what you could control, trust Ean to do the rest. All the same, she’d be glad when they were on the Eleven.
“What weapons does Captain Kari Wang have ready?” she asked Ean.
There was a momentary silence, then a sheepish “Um” from Ean, through the speakers.
She knew how to read Ean. “You’re not on the Eleven?” But the ship was an Eleven class. There was only one other Eleven-class ship. “You brought the Confluence.”
CHAPTER THIRTY: EAN LAMBERT
“Ean,” Sale said. “Turn this ship. Now.”
“Turn how? Turn where?” She’d be smarter telling the ship direct.
“Seventy degrees any way. One of those warships is pointing directly at the shuttle bay where we’ve housed the prisoners. Move Ean, move it now.”
The ship was already turning.
“Thank you.”
Ean hadn’t done anything. He added his own thanks. “Thank you. What Sale wants, you give. Okay?”
“Of course.”