Hunter's Oath, page 6
“Then we’re going to have to go and take a look, and right now the only way to do that is to negotiate with their leadership.” Turning to Ortiz, Kozak said, “If you have any more information about Orlov, now would be an excellent time to share it with the rest of us.”
“All I know is that he lives on the planet. I don’t have any other intel regarding his location. Though he’s an engineer by training, so it would make sense that he’d be somewhere that would allow him to work.”
“Everyone lives within a hundred miles of the spaceport,” Flynn said. “And it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everybody, so there’s at least some chance that we’ll be able to find him once we start looking.” He turned to the display, and said, “Assuming, of course, that he’s still alive.”
Nodding, Kozak said, “You know the conditions down there, Pat, and I guess there might be people down there you know. Do you feel up to going for a little walk through the woods?”
“It’d be nice to get some fresh air,” Flynn replied with a smile.
“Then I want you and Ortiz to go down with Shuttle One.”
“No strike team?” Zhou asked.
“We’re trying to get onto friendly terms with these people, and I’m not convinced that sending down a marine assault team is the best way to make that happen. Not yet, anyway. However, I’ll have Sandy, Kumar and Clayton in Shuttle Two, ready for immediate launch. If you need help, give out a yell and they’ll be down on the surface before the echo dies.”
“I’ll hold you to that, sir,” Flynn said.
Turning to Ortiz, Kozak added, “I’m taking a gamble here. Don’t make me regret it. Flynn calls the shots, and don’t do anything stupid.”
Ortiz glanced at Flynn, then said, “We’re both on the same side. I’ll do my best to remember that.” She paused, smiled, then added, “I can be very charming when I want to be.”
“Implying that you didn’t want to act that way around us. Get moving.” As Flynn and Ortiz left the bridge, he turned to Zhou, and said, “Take over the sensor and communication feeds. I want a channel open with that shuttle at all times, and a close watch on their telemetry.” Kozak turned back to the viewscreen, the display winking out to be replaced by a strategic view of local space. It was a simple enough area, no other celestial bodies for millions of miles, just the planet below with a few near-dead satellites in orbit.
“Zhou,” he mused, “that scientific satellite we picked up orbiting the innermost planet. Are any of its systems still working? Anything that we might be able to access?”
“Wait one,” she replied, slaving some of Flynn’s controls to her console and switching out her primary display. “Some. There’s a telemetry feed, and it looks as though their astronomic sensors are working. The resolution’s lousy, but it’ll probably get something.”
“Where are they pointing?”
She worked her controls again, smiled, then said, “Nice hunch. Right at Meridian, dead on. Want me to see if I can work back through the logs?”
“Sounds like a plan, but try and make sure everything you are doing is untraceable, just in case someone is keeping tabs on us.”
There was a faint jolt, and as Samarkand swept over the planet, Rogers said, “Shuttle’s away. I guess Ortiz really was in a hurry.”
“Probably afraid I was going to change my mind.” He looked down at the terrain, shook his head, and said, “They really do make some of these worlds pretty damned strange, don’t they.”
“I’ve never been to a one-faced world before,” she replied.
“Not that many of them in known space. I’ve never seen one either. Hopefully we’ll get a chance to go down and take a look for ourselves.”
“Captain,” Zhou said, “I think I’ve got something, but you aren’t going to like it. There are a lot of deletions to the logs, but they haven’t been done that well. Some of the backup files are still present.” She turned to him, and said, “That woman was lying. Another ship has been here, and recently. Ten days ago, a starship appeared in orbit, then left shortly thereafter. I can’t tell precisely when, there are too many gaps in the data for that, but I can get you a low-resolution image of the ship.” She tapped a control, and the image of the planet was replaced with an all-too familiar design, a match for the unknown ship they had faced at Cutter’s Rock.
“Well now,” Kozak said. “Isn’t that interesting.” He frowned, then said, “Call Flynn. Pass all of this to him, but make it clear that as far as anyone on the surface is concerned, we’re still in the dark.”
“If they’ve been here…,” Rogers replied.
“Then there’s every chance they’ll be back, and soon.”
Chapter 8
The shuttle soared over the landscape, Flynn ducking and weaving as he broke through the atmosphere, while to her right, Ortiz worked the sensor console, trying to map the surface, his brow furrowed in frustration at the scrambled readings coming back.
“It’s the jungle,” Flynn said. “You’ll have a hard time tracking anything down there unless it wants to be found. Overgrowth covers everything in no time at all if you don’t keep on hacking it back every few days. I saw a building totally covered, and it had only been left on its own for a month.”
“Isn’t there something chemical that could be used?” Ortiz asked.
“Probably, but nobody’s ever gotten around to developing one, and there’s no industry on this planet. Just a few old fabricators, that sort of thing. Back before the War, ships used to drop in here every few months, bringing a few bits and pieces, the odd colonist.” He paused, smiled, then added, “And trust me, they usually were pretty damn odd.”
“They’d have to be to live out here,” she replied. “I’m just not getting anything, and we’ll be shining out like a beacon if I keep using active sensors. We’re probably better off just switching to passive at this point.”
“Agreed,” Flynn said. “Besides, it’s going to be a lot more fun doing this the old-fashioned way.” He pointed at the viewscreen, and said, “I think that’s the spaceport, just ahead, maybe ten miles distant.”
The shuttle swept through a thick cloud layer, and at last, the beacon signal sounded, the repeating pulse echoing through the cockpit as the shuttle raced for its destination, a pair of lights flickering in the distance. Ortiz looked down at the sensor display again, and said, “We’re being scanned, but it’s all pretty damn old stuff, decades out of date. There’s a shuttle on the surface, of about the same vintage, but that’s it.”
“Crashland City’s a one-shuttle kinda town.”
“Hell of a name for it.”
“How do you think the first settlers got stuck here?” Flynn brought the shuttle gently over the spaceport, Ortiz looking down to see a mass of prefab buildings scattered into a tight bundle, a pair of landing pads at the center, with a wall surrounding them.
“That keeps out the jungle?”
“Keeps out the scavengers, at least,” Flynn replied. “I told you, it takes constant work to keep the growth back. Though it’s looking a bit better than the last time I was here.”
“This gets worse?” she asked.
He smiled, then replied, “You’ll see for yourself in a minute.” Tapping a control, he said, “Meridian Control, I am ready to land.”
“You’re clear for powered descent, Pad Two is clear.”
“Coming in,” he replied, firing the landing thrusters to bring the shuttle down, falling below the level of the wall, settling on the surface, dust flying up in all directions as they settled into place. “Engine stop, systems clear.” With a smile, he turned to Ortiz, then said, “Let me do most of the talking, and keep your eyes open for any sign of trouble. And make sure the pistol you’re carrying is well concealed.” Before she could reply, he added, “Mine is.”
“I thought the Captain said…”
“Not every order is meant to be obeyed. Come on.” Flynn led the way to the rear hatch, cracking it open, the smell of the jungle seeping into the cabin. Overhead, storm clouds gathered, grey and menacing, sweeping over the landscape and blocking out the sun. A pair of technicians waited for them at the foot of the ramp, both recognizable as the operators from the control room they’d seen on the bridge.
“Hardesty wants to see you,” one of them said. “We’ll make sure that your shuttle is ready to leave.”
“No need for that,” Flynn replied, tapping a control to lock the hatch behind them. “She can take care of herself. Though thanks for the offer.” He glanced at Ortiz, then walked across the concourse, past a trio of looming, aged warehouses, their surfaces covered in grey and green cracks from their endless exposure to the weather.
The spaceport was simple enough, the three warehouses, a hangar for the shuttle, the landing pads, and a control tower with a squat building bolted to the side, windows looking out over the terrain. The city, such as it was, was wrapped around it, built in a series of rough concentric circles, slowly moving out into the wilderness, the remains of a wall between the spaceport and the rest of the town.
“That dates back to the first landing,” Flynn said. “A century back, this was just a few converted cargo pods, but they made the wall the first priority. Looks like they’ve let it go over the years. Pity. Some of the graffiti was quite good. A couple of street artists got their start here, believe it or not.”
“If they were able to parley their skills into a ride off this rock, I can believe it,” she replied. They reached the office building, the door sliding open at their approach, stepping into a conference room, a black wooden table at the middle, polished to a high sheen, chairs all around.
“Nice,” Flynn said, turning to Hardesty, standing at the head of the table. “I might want to talk to the carpenter. My cabin up on Samarkand isn’t as homely as I’d like.” He paused, smiled, and said, “Odds are you don’t…”
“Pat Flynn,” she replied. “You didn’t pay your bar tab when you left.”
“I was a lot younger then,” he said, his face reddening. “And the War kicked off, we had to head home…”
“You can settle your debts later. Who’s your friend?”
“Victoria Ortiz. An intelligence analyst. She’s here to make sure that we ask Sergei the right questions.”
“Assuming we let you have a chance,” she said. A side door opened, and two men walked in, both of them wearing old yet formal suits, the cut a few decades out of date. Hardesty gestured at them, saying, “Luis Castillo and Bill Luther. Between the three of us, we run things down here. Largely because nobody else wants to do the job.”
“Sounds familiar,” Flynn said, taking a seat at the table. “Look, I don’t know just what the problem is, but we’re here in good faith. I know that it’s been a long time since the last ship passed this way…” He paused, and Ortiz caught Luther and Castillo glancing at each other, before Flynn continued, “but I would have thought that would mean you were eager for news. Moreover, there have been a lot of changes lately.”
“I had a chance to skim over those reports,” Castillo said. “If they’re even close to accurate, then you’re a master of understatement. The end of the war, after all these years, the Cartel moving out here…”
“The Cartel are among our backers, and they’re opening up the whole of the Rim. With a new series of deep space probes planned over the next few years. That could mean all sorts of benefits for Meridian, perhaps even the establishment of an orbital station.”
Shaking her head, Hardesty replied, “Most of our people came to this world to get away from that sort of thing. We want our independence…”
“Do their children feel the same way?” Ortiz asked. “Or would they prefer to step back out into the galaxy again.”
Nodding, Castillo said, “She might have a point. Certainly we could use more frequent visits from trading ships if nothing else. Before the war, we used to get freighters coming through every couple of months. Now we’re lucky if we get one a year, and the balance of trade…”
“We manage,” Hardesty replied. “We manage just fine.” She looked at Flynn and Ortiz, and added, “Though if you’d had a cargo to trade, we’d be a lot happier to see you, I’ll admit.”
“That can be arranged,” Flynn said. “If there’s a need, then I’m sure that the Cartel will send a regular ship out this way, and there are plenty of trading companies operating out of the Free Worlds who might be interested. You could find yourself more popular than you know.”
“You really do want Orlov, don’t you,” Luther replied.
“Where is he?” Ortiz asked. “Wouldn’t it be fairer to let him decide whether or not he wants to talk to us, rather than choosing for him?”
“Fair point,” Castillo said. “It isn’t quite that simple.” He looked at first Luther, then Hardesty, and continued, “I’m afraid he isn’t in the city. He’s out in the wilderness, and out of communications contact.”
“That’s not a problem,” Flynn replied. “If you can give us at least his approximate location, our shuttle is designed for that sort of work, and we can go out to him. If you think he might be in trouble, then we can organize a search and rescue mission, though the ship would have to go a lot closer to the surface to help coordinate it. We’re here to help.”
“To help yourselves,” Luther countered. “Not us.”
“We came here with a mission to complete, but nothing about that means that we can’t help you out, both in the short- and the long-term. You’re isolated out here, and even though the fighting is over, there are still a lot of dangers waiting on the Rim.”
“Is that some sort of threat,” Luther asked.
“Three outposts have been wiped out in the last four months,” Ortiz said. “The nearest just two and a half parsecs from here. Evidently there is some sort of hostile force working out here, and right now, we don’t have any leads to follow if we hope to find it.”
“Now that the Republic and Federation fleets are out of the picture, the only defenses we have are Samarkand and a couple of sister ships. The last of the battles did enough damage to the fleets of the Free Worlds that they won’t be a factor for years,” Flynn said.
“That suggests that your ability to provide us with any protection is a lot more limited than you suggest,” countered Hardesty. “I don’t see that you are giving us much of an argument to cooperate with you.”
“What exactly do you have to lose here?” Ortiz asked. “We’re not asking for any assistance, just to find Orlov and talk to him. That’s all. We aren’t here to extradite him, not unless he wants to return home, and it is our belief that the information he possess could save a lot of lives. Potentially including the people of this planet.”
“Belief. Potential. Those aren’t facts,” Luther said.
“Sometimes those are all you have to work with,” Ortiz countered.
“I’m sorry, but…,” Hardesty began.
“Why did you lie to us?” Flynn asked, turning to glare at her. “We know that another ship entered orbit ten days ago. A ship very similar to one that we faced at Cutter’s Rock, whose crew murdered the other contact we were looking for and damn near killed Ortiz here while she walked down the street. If you’d rather deal with people like that, I suppose that’s your business, but you have another option right now, and…”
“How the hell did you find out about the Guild?” Luther asked.
Turning to him, Castillo said, “Does it matter? He’s right. We’ve got a different option, and we might be wise to at least think about taking it. If these people are on the level…”
“And if they aren’t, we’re dead,” Luther protested. “Do you think that they’ll stay here forever? I don’t…”
The door slid open again, one of the technicians racing red-faced into the room, his eyes wide with fear, as he made his way over to Hardesty.
“What the hell is the meaning of this?” she began. “I told you…”
“They’re back,” the technician said. “Tachyonic signatures in orbit. We got them from the old science probe. Just like last time.”
Turning to Flynn and Ortiz, Hardesty replied, “It looks like the decision has been taken out of our hands. I hope that you can match your words with deeds. If you don’t, we’re dead.”
Chapter 9
“We’ve got company,” Zhou said, her hands furiously working the sensor controls. “Three ships, same basic type as the one we faced at Cutter’s Rock, coming out of warpspace immediately behind us.” She looked across at another panel, and added, “Range twenty-five thousand miles, closing.” She turned to him, and said, “It’s odd. They’re similar, but not the same as though they were all custom-made.”
“That could be good, or it could be bad,” Kozak replied. “I want all the data you can harvest on them, fed through to the computers for analysis. We need to know if there are any weak spots, and we need to know right away.” He paused, then said, “Then try and hail them. Perhaps now they’ll be in a mood to talk.”
Flanagan’s hands danced across the engineering console, and he said, “All decks and sections are secure, everything’s locked down, and I’ve set the reactor to maximum output. It’ll be interesting to see just how those maser cannons do under actual combat conditions.”
Looking at the trajectory plot, Kozak frowned, then tapped a control, saying, “Sandy, I want you down on the surface, and don’t spare the whip. We could be in battle shortly, and the way they’re setting up, it looks a lot like they might decide to try and launch a landing team.”
“Understood,” Knox replied, “we’re on our way. Orders?”
“Defend the colony at all costs. Nice and simple.”
“Sounds like my kind of mission,” she said. “Launch in ten seconds.”
“Good hunting,” Kozak said. He looked up at Rogers, and ordered, “Bring us about, intercept course, best possible speed. I want to minimize our time in the battlespace on the first pass. Zhou, any contact?”
“I think they’ve changed their minds. We have a signal, for you.”
