They hadn’t realised he’d injured — perhaps killed — the Captain, Peter decided, as he made his way through a series of sealed hatches. A handful of crewmen, trapped in sealed corridors, stared at him in disbelief, too stunned to do anything before he stunned them and kept moving. There was no point in trying to use the intership cars. The Royal Marines would have deactivated them as soon as the lockdown began and using the Captain’s override would certainly trigger alarms. And then they’d check with the Captain and redirect the intership car somewhere they could hold it until the time came to take him prisoner.
He slipped through another set of doors and smiled as he walked towards the biological research centre. Doctor Galina Bezukladnikov was standing in front of the hatch, her face utterly expressionless. She was beautiful, in a way, with long blonde hair and a perfect patrician face, but also dead to the world. Peter had heard rumours that women like her, reprogrammed to meet the state’s requirements, were sometimes used to service the high-ranking officials in the Kremlin. Why not? A programmed woman — or man, if the official’s tastes ran that way — would be calm, obedient and utterly discreet. Unless the FSB had done the reprogramming…
You couldn’t trust anyone in Russia completely, Peter knew, if you wanted to work in government. Trust was a dangerous liability.
“These are the vials,” Galina said. Her voice was as flat and cold as her eyes. “One vial, released onto the planet’s atmosphere, will be sufficient. Tests have proven that the world has been adapted for alien life forms, thus they share the same biochemistry. It will spread rapidly through the planet’s ecological system.”
“Good,” Peter said. He’d used bioweapons before on a mission that had never been revealed to anyone outside the Kremlin. “How long before the disease takes effect?”
“One month,” Galina informed him. “There will be ample time for it to spread undetected.”
Peter took the vials and pocketed them. “Stay here,” he ordered. Galina was important enough not to risk, but he had a feeling the British wouldn’t be interested in taking prisoners after their Captain had been killed. “Wipe the databanks completely, make sure there’s no hope of a cure, then hold out as long as you can.”
He turned, then started to make his way back down the corridor. It wouldn’t be long before the Royal Marines arrived, even though they’d have to check every compartment they passed for hostiles. His remaining forces, scattered through the ship, would be doing what they could to keep the British busy. But without access to the Captain’s ID codes, they’d have real problems getting beyond a few compartments…
Shaking his head, he forced himself to run. Time was definitely not on his side.
“One of the Russians attacked Main Engineering,” Sergeant Potter reported. “We killed him as he broke through the hatch, sir.”
“Good,” Charles said. Eight Russians on the ship; two dead. That left six. At least two more of them were launching other divisions, forcing him to divert his forces to deal with them. “Keep the compartment sealed, then wait.”
He cursed under his breath. Surprise attacks were always treacherous; there were always moments when the entire situation seemed utterly beyond repair, as if chaos had swept up and taken over the world. It took years of training and experience to look beyond the chaos, to realise that the smoke and noise was no substitute for firepower and solid protections, but he had enough experience to handle it. Or so he told himself.
“Keep sweeping forward,” he ordered. He clicked a switch and displayed a holographic diagram of the carrier’s interior. Entire sections had been sealed and deemed cleared, for the moment. The crew trapped inside them would be unable to help or hinder the Royal Marines as they swept the remainder of the ship. But what did the Russians have in mind?”
His communicator buzzed. “Major, this is Hawthorne,” a voice said.
“Go ahead,” Charles said.
“We had to break into the biological compartment,” Hawthorne reported. “The Russian woman fired on us, so we ended up stunning her. I think the entire compartment has been thoroughly trashed. The consoles look like they’d detonated their self-destruct charges.”
“Secure the woman; take no chances,” Charles ordered. He’d seen enough female special operatives to know that they could be deadlier than their male counterparts. Men tended to underestimate women, particularly if they wore revealing clothes and simpered at all the right moments. The file said that Doctor Galina Bezukladnikov was a harmless biological researcher, but the Russians had lied before. They certainly hadn’t declared the presence of their commandos attached to the observation team. “And then…”
He broke off. “What happened to the other researchers?”
“Four of them are stunned,” Hawthorne said. “The others are presumably in their own quarters…”
There was a pause. “There’s a bloody trail leading to the inner vault,” he added. “I think someone used his ID to break into the chamber, then left him there.”
“Get the other researchers up and force them to open the chamber,” Charles ordered, although he knew it might already be too late. The Russians had had one of their people on the research team. They could have killed the other researchers already. “And have a medical team standing by.”
He thought fast. The Russians had abandoned their mole, which meant… they’d already taken the bioweapon. But where were they taking it?
They’d want to deploy it, he thought. They’d need to go to the shuttlebay and take a shuttle.
“Redeploy Platoon Four,” he ordered. The closest shuttlebay to the biological warfare compartment was quite some distance, but a trained commando could cover it in minutes. “They are to seal the shuttlebay completely, then deactivate the shuttles.”
He paused. “And pass the word to the other shuttlebays,” he added. There was always a maintenance crew assigned to each shuttlebay, even during lockdown. “They are to shut down their shuttlecraft completely.”
“The Captain was shot,” Doctor Hastings reported. “Admiral, they also hacked his implant out of his palm.”
Ted cursed. “Pass the word to the Marines,” he said. He had to admire the idea, even though he would have dismissed it if someone had suggested it to him. The lockdown, designed to keep the Russians from running amok, actually worked in their favour. His forces had to clear each compartment and reopen the hatches before making progress. “And then lock out the Captain’s command overrides.”
“It can’t be done,” Janelle reminded him. “The Captain’s overrides are hardwired into the system.”
Ted cursed, understanding — finally — why the Russians had wanted the access codes. If they’d had the codes they could have crashed the entire datanet — and then used the Captain’s ID to bring it back up, selectively locking out the Royal Marines and the remainder of the ship’s crew. The Old Lady’s internal security precautions would have been turned against her legitimate owners.
“Then track his ID codes,” Ted ordered. “They’ll need to use them if they want to get anywhere.”
But where were they going? The shuttlebays were sealed. There was no other way off the ship, was there?
He smirked in honest admiration. Oh yes there was. And the Russians were devious bastards for thinking so far ahead. Their first blackmail victim had been the CAG, after all, someone who could give them the access they needed.
“Redeploy the Marines,” he ordered. “Tell them to secure the starfighter launch tubes.”