Chapter 15 The Ghosts
My face was in the snow. I couldn't have been out for long – the blue flashes were still etched in my retinas. I gathered my wits and strength, pushed myself up to my knees and looked around. My harsh breathing was loud in the muffled silence. I appeared to be alone, the wharf rats were at least hidden by the fog, perhaps watching from the shadows. Not that I could do anything about that.
I knelt in the cold snowbank, deep in the darkness between the two boats. Ahead, the lighter grey of the taxi lane. I looked back, my battered package, our billy-blades and my smoldering cap lay scattered across the wet pavement behind me. Min was a sprawled shape in the sooty snowbank two meters to my right. A curl of steam drifting up from her outstretched arm where the last plasma darts had struck her. I tried to stand, but my exoskeleton motors were dead. It was easier to crawl over to her. She was lying twisted in the snowbank. Not moving. I pulled her over, face up, her legs clanking together as her body dragged one over the other. Steam and smoke rose from the two black holes in her jacket where the other plasma darts struck her.
Bloody. Blasted. Neb. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. She was perfectly still.
I've only been in a few brief downside brawls, never a plasma darter fight. I know plasma darts – basically tiny super-capacitors projected by a drive beam, come in various sizes and could be charged in a range of energy levels from stun to non-revivable lethal, but I've only seen them in fiction vids. Still, from the intense blue fireworks the darts produced when they hit her and discharged their electrical charge, I had to believe they were lethal. I was alive only because the dart flew high, hitting my cap's badge, carrying off the cap to break contact with me a split second before it discharged its immense store of electrical energy and so, merely stunned me in the blast. But Min had been hit squarely, half a dozen times. I stared at her pale face and dead eyes. Think, Wil, think.
I touched my com link, but it was dead. Useless. Likely fried in the plasma burst. I'd have to summon help from the boat.
I glanced around. Still no activity, no alarm – just smothering stillness. The wharf rats must've fled, since by using the darter in the attack, everyone involved was now liable to be neutered and sent to Felon's Rift. Luckily, for me, anyway, they didn't stay to make sure I was dead.
I edged closer to Min, braced myself, lifted her body from the snowbank and arranged it the best I could over my shoulder, seeking the best balance. Then, with a rush of breathless curses, I managed to get my feet under me and lurch upwards. Standing, I swayed as I sought to get my balance, and staggered into the fog towards the Ghost before I collapsed again. She was slightly built and with her artificial legs, weighed little enough for someone used to gravity, but I'd spent the last two decades mostly in space, where weightlessness to .3gee was the norm. My heart was pounding, each step demanded a deliberate effort as I stumped and staggered down the taxiway in a world of grey shapes, muffled footfalls and that thumping in my chest. I thought I'd never make the Ghost without stopping to rest but, there it was, its pale form looming before me. I stopped, braced myself and swore.
'Blast and Blood! Neb Damn!'
I hadn't the key tab, of course. Min had it. Somewhere. And it may only be keyed to her microchip id.
'Damn, damn, bloody damn,' I ranted as I dropped to one knee and let her body slip down, her legs clinking on the pavement. I held the back of her head as I laid it down on the wet pavement and searched for her coat pockets for the ship's key tab. Nothing. I ripped open the mag-tabs of her scorched coat and laid it open. I hesitated. It didn't seem right, but it must be in the pockets of her black jacket or vest. I reached down, and pushed her body a little to get to the jacket pocket.
'Other one. Left handed.'
I reared back. 'Blast!' It had been faint and husky, but I hadn't said it. 'Min?' I leaned back over her. 'Min?'
Her eyes were closed, now. Her lips slightly parted, I seemed to sense more than see a faint movement in her chest.
Faintly, her lips barely moved. 'Left pocket. Get it.'
'Right. Of course,' I muttered, or some such thing. I kissed her quickly on her forehead before I reached for her left pocket, carefully moving her to reach it. I found the tab and pulled it out.
'Will it work for me?'
She moved her head ever so slightly, 'no'. 'Put it in my left hand.'
I fumbled with it to get it in the right position for her finger to touch the key button and put it in her hand, and closed my hand around hers. I felt her move her finger, and a thin line of light appeared in the hull of the Ghost as the boarding ladder began swinging down. I put the key tab in my pocket and slipped one hand under her head and another under her back to lift her to my chest. The boarding hatch was narrow, so I lifted her over my shoulder again and with several more curses, managed to get back on my feet.
Each step, a mountain to climb, but I reached the boat's deck and hit the button to close the hatch and looked around the small main compartment. There was a small seating area aft with two built-in settees to which I carried Min. I dropped down next to it. She was able to hold on to me as I lifted her legs on to the cushions and laid her down.
'The medic kit is in the after bulkhead,' she whispered.
I got up, found the compartment, released the box and stumbled back. I pushed up the sleeve of her coat and opening the medic kit, attached the sensor/treatment band to her wrist and activated the machine and held her hand to keep it steady. I watched the dial as it jumped to critical red, and as the sensor readings began to be analyzed and treatments began to be transmitted into her system, it settled into amber and down to a non-critical yellow, the display listing a running series of reports and treatments it was administering. I could feel some of its healing fields through my hand. I didn't pay much attention, most of it was beyond my limited medical knowledge. The color was all that mattered to me, and according to that, Min was somehow alive, and somehow, seemingly, not in great danger.
I reached over and drew her coat over her. 'It's non-critical yellow. I think you should be okay... But I'll just go forward for a second and call the medic service... and the Guards.'
She shook her head 'no' without opening her eyes and shifted her grip to hold my hand.
'Is there anything I need to do?' I asked, alarmed, afraid the reading was wrong.
She shook her head 'no' again, and said quietly, 'I'm feeling better. Just stay and let me think.'
'Of course,' I said watching her closely. She was breathing fully now, and the medic kit had everything under control. It seemed like I should be doing more than holding her hand, but I couldn't think of anything, and well, she held my hand tightly. I suppose the Guard could wait. Some of the wharf rats wouldn't be moving too fast.
I knelt beside the settee and watched the dial as it slowly turned to green over the course of perhaps a dozen minutes. At last I asked, 'Are you alright, Tallith?'
She opened her eyes. 'Yes.' Letting go of my hand and drawing a deep breath, she gingerly pushed herself into a shallow sitting position against an arm rest. 'But I believe my legs are out of commission, once again. So would you please go forward, tune the radio to the yacht club control frequency and set it to record. We don't need to listen to it now.'
'Right. And I'll alert the Guards. I doubt some of those wharf rats will've made cover just yet,' I said, heaving myself to my feet.
'No. Don't radio anyone. Just do what I asked.'
'But the Guard should be alerted. We shouldn't give them too much time,' I protested.
'Is this what I'm to expect from you when I give an order?' she asked softly, but with an edge. I realized I needed to take her question, and its implication very seriously.
'Sorry. I thought that would've been the next step. I've been a tin god for six months, now and it seemed to be the next move...'
She shook her head. 'Do as I say, I'll explain.'
I did as ordered, and returned to collapse onto the settee opposite her
s. 'So why not?”
'The wharf rats don't count,' she said slowly. 'They're only involved to muddy the waters and to take the rap when our bodies were discovered. The assassin wasn't a wharf rat and certainly didn't need their help to kill me. The assassin just dragged the wharf rats along as a distraction – a false trail to give him or her time to slip away – off planet and likely back to the drifts. I think we punished the wharf rats enough. Sending them to Felon's Rift seems unnecessary. Do you agree, Captain?'
I considered her question for a moment, replaying the final scene.
'Aye, let them go... I likely owe my life to one of them. I'd be dead if that other fellow hadn’t tried to stop the darter. He or she must have knocked the assassin's arm just enough to make the dart fly a bit high and strike the emblem on my cap. But that probably wasn't clear in the discharge flash. It must've looked like I was hit since I went down right enough.'
She gave me an unreadable look and closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, 'This was a professional operation. I'm certain the assassin has an escape plan in place, and it probably leads off planet. He or she may even have a boat waiting here at the yacht club, which is why I want a radio record of boats leaving. As for the Guards...
'Think about it. Right now we're dead in a snow bank and unlikely to be found until tomorrow, at the earliest. It could be several days – we're parked on the unfashionable and unfrequented fringe of the tarmac. So unless we give ourselves away by calling the Guard or taking off, the assassin will escape thinking I'm – we're – dead and I'm safe from further attempts until they come to realize I'm not dead. The longer I'm dead, the longer I have to act without them knowing about it. Our assassin, confident that dead men tell no tales, may've left a trail that I might be able to pick up...' She paused, lost in thought.
Looking across on her pale, soot streaked face and wild, disordered hair, it suddenly struck me that she should really be dead. 'How is it you're alive? Surely those were not stun level darts.'
She looked up at me and may have even smiled a little, 'I'm sure they weren't. But luckily, I frighten easy. Having barely survived one assassination attempt and with Uncle Hawk strongly hinting that I might still be in danger, I took precautions.' She lifted the front of her coat so that I could see how it had been penetrated by two darts. 'My coat has several different D-matter layers in the lining making it dart penetration and plasma resistant, as does my pelisse and blouse. I wasn't taking chances, and it paid off. It looks like several of the darts actually make it through my coat and pelisse, but not my blouse. The ones that hit my coat arm were off line to my arm. It's standard practice to launch both armor penetrating and non-penetrating darts to make certain of the desired results, since armor penetrating darts tend to go through an unarmored body without discharging. Only the fact that I had three layers of dart resistance clothing, prevented the darts from reaching my body before discharging. You'd have needed even heavier darts to penetrate all three levels. Still, with all that electric plasma discharging in such close proximity, it must have shocked and paralyzed my nervous system seeing that it was strong enough to short circuit the motors in my expensive legs.'
'I thought you were dead. Your eyes were open and you didn't seem to be breathing...'
'Near enough. Being bounced about on your shoulder as you carried me likely jogged my stunned heart and lungs into working again... In any event, my nervous system was not fried as it would've been if the darts had fully penetrated...' She shrugged.
I stared at her with growing alarm. 'Why would anyone shoot you in the first place. Who wants you dead?'
She shrugged. 'I don't know who. I just know they do. Now.'
'But Tallith, you must have some idea. If this isn't just some crazy wharf rat antics, we need to find out who and why... You can't just...'
She held up a hand. 'All in good time, Captain. What I need at the moment is a set of working legs. I keep a spare pair in the storage section under the settee behind you. Would you be so kind as get them? Unless you want to carry me around,' she added with a grin.
I tried to grin back, but I was too upset to make a very credible effort. 'Right.'
She sat up as I hauled out the box. 'Put it next to me here,' she said indicating the cushion next to her.
'Do you need help?' I asked, without thinking.
She glanced down at her short skirt and back up to me with a mockingly innocent look. 'Thank you, but I think I can manage, Captain. What I could use is a cup of cha. There should be some in the galley. Take your time brewing it. You might want to wait until I come to fetch it.'
'Right. Of course,' I said, blushing, and hurried the few steps to the compact galley, sliding the door-panel shut behind me.
I found the cha, added the leaves to two clearsteel mugs and absently screwed on their covers without thinking. It annoyed me that the cha canister, spoon and mugs all shook when I handled them. I cursed softly under by breath. Fortunately, I wasn't in a hurry. I carefully filled them with boiling water from the faucet and while I watched the cha brew I tried to get my hands and racing heart under control. It was just the aftershock, I assured myself. Still, I sensed – on the edge of my conscientiousness – that my master plan for my life was spinning out of control. Damn, and blast... What was I getting myself into? I was still watching the leaves unfold in the subtle currents when the galley door-panel slid open and Min looked in, slight and slim, rather disheveled, but calm and collected.
She seemed subtly different. I tried to place the change – she was shorter now. And her legs looked real.
She noticed my confusion and smiled rather sadly. 'This pair was made to duplicate my original ones. I decided that since I was given a choice, I'd rather be taller.'
That wasn't it. Not entirely, but I put it out of mind. 'Are you really alright, Tallith? Is there anything I can do? I feel that I should be doing more than making a mug of cha.'
'I'm fine, Wil, and I could really use a cup of cha. How are you doing?'
'Oh, I'm fine, more or less. Thinking about it seems harder than just doing it. I guess I've not lived a life where I'm attacked by wharf rats and darted on a regular basis. I thought those things only happened to Brilliant Pax or in the yarns of the Four Shipmates...'
She gave me a serious look, 'I'm sorry Wil. I'm afraid that tonight you may've been drawn into the yarns of the Four Shipmates. I'm all but certain the chain of cause and effect leads back to them... I'm sorry you're involved. It's none of your concern. If I'd have known just how immediate the risk was, I'd have never come back to Calissant.'
I stared at her. 'Do you really think so? About it going back to the Four Shipmates.'
'I've come to believe that they were running for their lives for decades before they came to Calissant. Uncle Hawk seemed to hint so when he visited me on Kimsai, but we – my brother Jelter and I – had come to suspect something along those lines even before his visit. After tonight there's simply no doubt. It would seem that the Four Shipmate's enemies have caught up to them and killed my parents, and perhaps Uncle Hawk and Captain Miccall as well... And they want to kill me too.'
'Who? And Why?'
She shrugged. 'I don't know... It was their secret. Uncle Hawk wasn't prepared to tell me, even with the death of his old shipmates. I'm sure he suspected they'd been killed, but still would tell us nothing. He simply urged me to stay on Kimsai until he came for me. But he died. And well, I wasn't about to stay on Kimsai my whole life.'
'Why...' I muttered again, not sure of just what I was asking her.
She said nothing for a long moment and said. 'It's complicated. I'll tell you what I know. I owe you my life, so I owe you that much. But first I think we can risk a pulse transmission to the Lost Star and Silvery Moon so our shipmates don't get concerned when we don't show up tonight.'