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Surebleak Port
Val Con had quite liked duocycles when he had been a hopeful Scoutling at academy. Indeed, he had taken the prize in several duocycling competitions—both illicit and academy-sponsored.
Even as a Scout about his duty, he had retained a fondness for the little machines, which could move so quickly, and so quietly, over many kinds of terrain.
Today, however . . .
The frigid wind slapped his face until it burned; his nose went numb, and his eyes teared, despite the goggles, which led to the lenses steaming up and providing a serious impediment to safe duocycling. He yanked them down to dangle 'round his neck, and crouched low over the handlebars.
Perhaps he was growing old.
Ahead, a cluster of people.
Val Con made use of the innovation, producing a roar that echoed off the buildings on either side, and had people scrambling for positions of lesser peril.
"Hey!" one woman yelled as he raced by. "Watch where you're goin'!"
He grinned into the wind.
Well, perhaps not quite so old as that.
"Turn left at the next intersection," Jeeves said into his ear.
He took the corner fast, nearly putting the cycle on its side, straightened, and roared again, hearing answering roars from ahead, behind, and to the side.
Turning his head slightly, he saw two duocycles on his right hand; two more on his left—and even more racing in from the side streets as he stormed past.
"Jeeves, am I part of a parade?"
"A diversionary tactic, sir. You will concentrate on picking up Captain Waitley. These others will provide cover, and create confusion."
"More confusion," he said; "delightful."
"Yes, sir."
He loosed another roar. Two dozen and more answered him, and they sped on, the port itself vibrating with their challenge.
* * *
Captain Lisle looked at the star hammer; she looked, very carefully, Chernak thought, at Stost, her gaze flicking between his eyes and his grin several times.
Finally, as if she had found him an irrefutable argument, she turned back to Chernak.
"What do you want?"
"I believe you should lay out your weapons," Chernak said. "Tell me where they are before you reach to them, so that my comrade does not misunderstand."
That was unjustly said; Stost had a very fine understanding of nuance and body language—better than her own. However, it was to their advantage to encourage Captain Lisle's uneasiness.
"Knife," the captain said. "Right boot."
She was methodical. Knives came out first—three of them—then a small arm, and a second—
"That," Stost said, hefting the star hammer, "is our captain's own sidearm!"
Chernak had also recognized it, and held up her hand. There was sweat on Captain Lisle's face.
"You will not move," Chernak told her. "You will keep your arms at your sides, and your hands where I can see them."
"Right," Captain Lisle said.
"Stost, retrieve our captain's weapon," she directed.
He did this, adroitly, and stepped back, tucking the gun away, and hefting the hammer.
"The rest," Chernak said to Captain Lisle.
She produced two more guns, then stood back, arms crossed over her breast.
"What do you want?" she demanded, which was, Chernak thought, more like the woman Joyita had found in his searches.
"First," Chernak said, "we wanted to ensure that this ship would not lift."
"Well, you managed that just fine, from what my pilot tells me. Then what?"
Chernak cocked her head, listening. Yes, there was a growling in the streets, growing rapidly closer.
"Then," she told Captain Lisle, "we wanted to hold you for the port guards."
"You don't want your captain back?"
"No, we do want our captain back," said Chernak.
The growling was closer now; she saw Captain Lisle notice the racket, and frown.
"Call off the proctors and I'll hand over your captain," she said.
This was the offer that the entire crew had supposed she would make, that they had determined that they could not take, if they wished to have their captain back—alive.
"Will you call her up to us?" asked Chernak, and felt Stost shift at her back.
"Sure; I'll send one of my crew down to bring her up. How's that? I'd appreciate a little something to cover my losses, since my client ain't gonna pay if he don't get what he wanted. But, I'm sure we can make a—"
Chernak saw the woman's arms, crossed so casually over her chest, tighten, very slightly. She swept out a leg, the captain staggered—and Chernak had her on her knees, arms pinned at her side.
"Gas canisters!" she snapped. "Stost, your hammer."
"No!" yelled Captain Lisle, jerking ineffectually against Chernak's prisoning arms.
"Fool," said Stost, and brought his knuckle sharply against her temple.
They laid Captain Lisle's unconscious body on the gantry. Chernak bent to remove the canisters—
And the duocycles arrived.
* * *
Crew was on the move, Theo discovered; and they were looking for her.
She'd found a pole, and slid down to the maintenance level, dodging into a utility alley that felt thin even to her. It was a maze of open doors and exposed panels, which would work to hide her, if-and-when crew decided to pursue her, but—
"What happened?" she asked Bechimo.
"The Pathfinders have assured that this ship will not lift," he told her. "You are approaching a T-corridor. When it is safe to do so, go left."
Theo paused at end of her skinny alley, straining her ears.
Voices. She heard voices, approaching. Ducking back into the alley, she wedged herself into a tall closet, behind a portable air compressor.
She heard the steps slow, and stop at the top of the alley. Heard the voices consult with one another. One came a few steps into the alley, stopped, then retreated.
"Don't see no boots on deck," he said. "I'm bettin' she's headed straight for the emergency slide. No sense getting' tangled up in that mess in there."
The footsteps faded.
Theo slipped out of the closet, ran lightly to the T and took the left, making for, so Bechimo had assured her, the utility hatch.
"What's happening up top?" she asked Bechimo.
"Captain Lisle and the Pathfinders are seeking common ground," he told her. "Turn right at the approaching corner. You will be next to the ship's skin. Continue to follow the curve of the hallway. The hatch is not far from your current position."
Theo took a deep breath, spotting a camera in a corner of the ceiling. Bechimo had told her that the cameras were "momentarily offline," but seeing it there still gave her a nasty thrill.
While she was on this ship, she was still a hostage, and whatever might be happening between the captain and the pathfinders, up at the main hatch, all agreements would be off, if she was captured again.
Theo ducked around the last corner—
And came face-to-face with Lyn.
"Got you!" the crew woman snarled, raising a merc-issue pellet pistol.
Theo threw herself to the right and down, twisted and brought the stun gun up.
Lyn might've been able to get one shot off—Theo wasn't sure.
But she didn't get two.
Theo came to her feet, feeling a stab of pain along her ribs.
"Quickly," Bechimo urged, and she gathered herself into a trot after she collected the pellet gun.
Follow the passage, curving, curving—and there, ahead, a small hatch hanging loosely open like all the others. A damp, chilly breeze rubbed past her cheek, smelling like grit and fuel and smoke and snow.
Theo stretched her legs, aware of a roaring sound even as she came to the opening, and flung a hand out to the nearest grab bar. Crouching, she measured the jump from hatch to 'crete.
She could do it, she judged, though she found herself wishing for her jacket. If she landed badly, all there was between her and the 'crete was a sweater. Still, she should be able to walk away, once she got . . .
"Theo?"
"Thinking," she said. "I think I can make the jump, but—"
"Hold position," Bechimo said. "Your brother is coming for you."
And, as if on cue, there came a deafening roar as a mob of duocycles swept into the lane below.
"He is here," Bechimo said, sounding very pleased with himself.
"Him and two dozen of his friends," she answered, "how am I supposed to—"
She stopped, because the cycles were splitting up, swinging wide, half to the left of the ship and half to the right.
One, however, came straight on, slowing, maybe, but not by any means traveling slow.
"Jump!" cried Bechimo. "Theo, jump now!"
* * *
Val Con swerved close, slowing, saw the jacketless figure in the hatch flex her knees—and leap.
The stabilizers groaned when she hit the saddle behind him, then her arms were around his waist and he kicked the accelerator.
"Head down!" he shouted, and felt her curl close against his back, letting him take the worst of the wind and grit.
They had lost all but two of their escort—a cycle flanking them on either side. Well, enough, he thought, if they could keep up.
* * *
The last time Theo had been on a duocycle had been at school, and only then because she needed the training to get her certs for Port-Side Machinery. Some of her classmates had seen the challenge in the little machines, and had engaged in races, acrobatics, and crazy mid-night tours of the dark grounds.
Theo had not been one of those.
But apparently Val Con had.
She'd barely dropped into the saddle before he hit the accelerator, flying low, and she grabbed his waist to steady herself. Now, she settled herself more firmly into the saddle, and took hold of the passenger handgrips.
Val Con shifted slightly before her, turning his head slightly.
"Theo!" The wind thinned his voice; she leaned closer, to hear.
"Right underarm pocket—small weapon!"
Weapon—that was, she thought, exactly like him. Of course, he'd want to make sure she was armed.
Carefully, she eased her hand up, found the pocket, and fingered out a small, surprisingly heavy, pouch. She got it firmly in hand, and slid it into her leg pocket. The duocycle was solid as a rock, which she thought was more Val Con's doing than hers. She sealed the pocket and put her arm back around his waist.
"Got it!" she yelled, though she was pretty sure he couldn't hear her. "Thanks!"
They were running quiet now—no roaring, only the low hum of the motor. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head. Another cycle was pacing them on the left—a second on the right, both drivers leather-clad, faces obscured by goggles. Backup, she supposed. Good idea.
Val Con leaned, and she did; the cycle almost perpendicular to the 'crete, shooting into a side-way with no lessening of speed. They snapped upright, Val Con hunched over the handlebars, and Theo taking care to keep her arms inside the cycle's shadow. The walls were that close.
Up ahead, she could see the end of the alley over Val Con's shoulder. There seemed to be a lot of people about.
"Bechimo," she said in bond-space. "What's going on?"
"Flash-crowd," he said tensely. "This a rarely used section, which is why Jeeves routed you through it."
"So, somebody's still really interested in what we're doing," Theo said.
"That is one theory," Bechimo answered. "There is no way around; it must be through. Jeeves allows me to know that your brother is very skilled with the duocycle."
"Good," she said, and there wasn't any time to say more, because they burst into the street, Val Con swinging the cycle hard to the left, and it was roaring again, but the crowd was roaring almost as loud, and a couple of people jumped in front of them, which was a dare, Theo knew—
And Val Con kicked the accelerator.
"Sleet, man, are you crazy?" screamed one of them, as they leapt aside, and hit the 'crete, rolling.
The duocycle roared again, echoes coming from behind, which was their escort, Theo thought. Val Con didn't let up, his course straight and unhesitant. More people jumped out of their way, they hit a clear space—
And something came in low, rolling across the 'crete, too near to jump over. It hit the front wheel; the cycle skittered, slid; Val Con brought it back up by sheer willpower, so it seemed to Theo, and here came another one, at the back wheel.
Theo took a breath, deliberately relaxing into the cycle's dance, trying to forget that she didn't have a jacket, only a sweater and canvas pants between her and the 'crete.
I need meteor shields, she thought, even as something caught the edge of her eye—another damn' roller, coming in fast, about an inch above the 'crete—
The cycle bucked, and for a moment, it felt like the machine was trying to swim.
"Jump!" Val Con snapped, and she did, hitting the ground with arms over her head, rolling, and it didn't hurt as much as she'd expected, which was maybe adrenaline—
There came a terrible grinding noise; the scream of abused stabilizers—and a roar from the crowd that was louder than anything Theo had ever heard in her life.
She opened her eyes, got up on one knee, braced on her hands. The crowd was surging forward, apparently having forgotten that there had been two riders. There was a downed cycle a sort distance away, also ignored. The mob was focused elsewhere.
Nobody was paying any attention to her.
She got both feet under her, and bolted to the duocycle, keeping low until she had it by the handlebars; shoving it up onto its wheels, and straddling it—only then realizing that the safety program had shut it off when it went down, and she didn't have the code.
"Wait," Bechimo said. And, "here."
The inside of her head tickled; and she glanced down in time to see her fingers finish inputting something into the keypad. The duocycle purred to life; Theo kicked the accelerator, spinning in a hard turn, until she was facing the surging crowd.
"Theo!" Bechimo cried.
"Val Con's down!" she shouted back at him. "This crowd will kill him!"
A duocycle came speeding in from the right of the crowd, roar at full volume; another right behind.
Theo pulled up, one boot braced against the 'crete.
Somebody in the crowd screamed; people scrambled; shoved, and shouted as the lead cycle pierced it like an arrow, scattering them, shouting and cursing. Theo saw somebody on the ground, arms around head, motionless. Her mouth dried—and then he was moving, spinning up into a crouch as the second cycle slowed, the operator holding down an arm.
Val Con grabbed the offered support, and swung onto the pillion, as the cycle accelerated, flying to catch up with the leader.
"He's safe, Theo;" Bechimo said in bond-space. "Go! Before the crowd regroups. North, to the gate! I will guide you."
She needed no other urging. Kicking the starter, she leaned; the cycle slewed around, and she was running—flying—the crowd momentarily shouting behind her—and then lost in the roar of the wind in her ears.
#
"Theo, I apologize," Bechimo said. "I—you took harm from that fall; the shielding I could deploy along such a distance . . ."
Theo, crouched low over the handlebars, most of her concentration on traffic, managed, "What?"
"You called for shielding, but—"
She blinked, realized that she wasn't crete-burned, though her ribs were hurting her again.
"You shielded me?" she asked. "How?"
"The captain and the ship are bonded," he began, and she interrupted him as she accelerated around a taxi.
"Right. But I didn't realize you could do anything like that." She leaned, swooped past a slow-moving lorry, and straightened.
"I ought to have done more," Bechimo said. "We are bonded."
"It was too far, and I didn't give you any warning," she said. "We need to practice, that's all. I took a lot less harm than I would have, if you hadn't gotten me some shielding."
"Turn right at the corner upcoming," Bechimo said, and Theo leaned hard, scaring a couple crossing the street into a mad leap for the sidewalk. She wished she knew what Val Con had done to make the machine roar a warning.
"What," she asked, "did I input into this cycle's keypad?"
"The emergency start-up code. Joyita passed it to me; I passed it to you."
"Oh. Well—good work. Where am I going?"
"Jeeves points out that with the unrest in the city, one woman alone on a duocycle would be better served by taking cover soonest, rather than attempting to come out the Port Road to—to her ship. You are therefore being routed to Lady Kareen's house, which is well-defended. You will be safe there until the situation on the streets has been resolved."
"Good thinking," Theo said. "How far?"
"Three blocks, straight on. You will enter by the kitchen door. Staff is expecting you. Lady Kareen and your mother will be apprised of your arrival, once you are safe inside."
"OK then; guide me in."
* * *
"Miri," Jeeves said. "Emissary Twelve has broken contact with the Tree. She appears somewhat disoriented. Pilot yos'Phelium is approaching her with caution; Pilot tey'Doshi is standing back-up."
"Right."
A nice walk in the garden would do her good, she thought wryly, pushing back from the desk.
"Let Pilot tey'Doshi know that I'm on my way, in case Emissary Twelve starts in on the same note she left off on."
"Yes, Miri."
She left the office and headed for the nearest garden-side door, stopping to take a sweater off the hook and pull it on before going outside. The Tree kept the garden warm for the Surebleak season, but nothing like Liad-warm.
"Everything peaceful?" she asked Jeeves as she swung onto the path.
"Emissary Twelve remains subdued. Pilot yos'Phelium has inquired if she is in distress."
That, Miri thought, didn't sound—exactly comforting. She'd rather not return the Elders' errand-Turtle to them with an impairment. On the other hand, who knew what the Tree—
#
A loud roar shattered her thoughts. The path, the garden, and the house vanished into a dizzying sweep of 'crete passing 'way too close to the end of her nose—and receding, her view now of a port street and, straight ahead, pedestrians jumping out of the way.
She was, she realized inside Val Con's head, looking out of his eyes. There was the sense of someone at her back, which she hoped was Theo, and a general feeling of flying.
Val Con leaned, sharp; the duocycle shot into an alley and straightened, hurtling down the very center of the way, the walls on either side bare inches from the end of the handlebars.
Ahead, Miri could see the end of the alley, and too many people milling around beyond it.
"Jeeves?" Val Con asked.
"Flash-crowd," Jeeves said. "I advise you not to slow down."
Val Con crouched low over the bars, kicked the accelerator, thumbed a lever hard, and suddenly they were roaring.
Roaring, they leapt, briefly airborne, out of the alley's mouth, straight into the crowd.
People shouted; people scattered; a couple sleet-for-brains jumped in front of them, but Val Con kept the 'cycle steady, and they leapt away at the last minute.
Something came rolling out of the crowd—a long cylinder maybe made of wood. It hit the front wheel, the 'cycle wobbled—and came upright, steady, speed undiminished.
Miri took a breath—and here was another roller, angling for the back wheel—
"Jump!" Val Con yelled, and Miri saw Theo hit and roll out of the side of her eye, and then there wasn't time for anything else, because the 'cycle bucked, screamed—Val Con was leaping into a somersault the instant before it went down, sliding across the 'crete, still screaming.
They rolled, came to their feet, and staggered as a rock slammed into their shoulder.
The crowd was all around them, yelling and moving fast. More rocks became airborne; one guy reached out to grab them, but they somersaulted away, hitting the ground and rolling, tucked, arms over their head, while the shouting grew louder.
Never aspired to die in a riot, she said then.
Good, he answered.
Through the crowd's noise, she heard a duocycle roar—more than one, maybe—getting louder, faster. The yelling turned to screaming, and boots thudding, the oppression of gathered bodies vanished, and they came up onto their heels, crouching, turning, as one 'cycle flew by, its roar deafening, chasing the crowd away from them—and here came the second, slowing a fraction as the driver held his arm down.
They grabbed him above the elbow—and swung astride.
Their rescuer kicked the accelerator, roaring as they raced after the first, and they saw Theo up on a 'cycle, ahead of them, heading for the North Gate, and it looked like they were going to catch her, but the leader swung wide, heading south inside the port, their 'cycle following, and Miri felt a little nudge of concern, but, no, it made sense to split up, and give whoever might be following two targets to worry about.
In fact, Miri thought, she wouldn't be surprised if the leader peeled off, too, at the next likely-looking exit.
Except, that's not what happened. Both 'cycles made another swooping loop, and hit the accelerators again, drivers leaning near flat across the bars, and them curled low behind theirs. They managed to get a peek sideways, and the nudge of concern became a flicker of actual fear.
They weren't heading out of the port; and they weren't heading for any of the several safe-places inside the port. They were heading for the hotpads.
Miri felt her stomach flutter.
Now, she said. It's gonna be now.
Soonest begun, soonest done, Val Con answered. Cha'trez, you should leave me now.
She ignored that, instead focusing ahead.
Likely looking jumping off point ahead at one o'clock.
I see it.
The 'cycle they were on wasn't wasting any time. They had hardly identified the dismount point before they were upon it, and Val Con leaping from the back, somersaulting behind the confusion of hoses and repair lines tangled around the single-ship to the right.
They came up into a crouch, and began working their way to the other side of the ship, where they crouched again, concealed by the shadow of its gantry, ears and eyes straining.
The regular and normal sounds of a hot-pad yard came to them, which didn't, Miri thought, mean much, given how quiet duocycles ran when they weren't intentionally making noise.
Val Con was calculating; she could feel it, like an itch inside her skull. Too bad she didn't have access to what he was measuring, on the other hand, she'd played this game before, herself.
It was best to stay under cover as much as possible. Unfortunately, while there were plenty of things in the area, not many of them provided good cover. The spaces between the ships had to be negotiated, and once they were discovered, they'd be easy targets.
"Jeeves," Val Con murmured. "Can we get surveillance?"
"Bechimo has found both duocycles standing at the place where you left their party. He sees other 'cycles in the area, but there seems no way to discover their affiliation. The two pilots who rescued you are both Scouts. Joyita pulled their IDs and I confirm."
"Scouts heading for a hot-pad," Val Con murmured; "not Scout Headquarters."
"We theorize that these are Liaden Scouts," Jeeves said, "who may wish to return you to Headquarters, for discipline."
Miri felt him reject that, though he didn't bother to argue with Jeeves. Instead, he leaned out from their cover a little, frowning down the row of ships.
"How near are the other 'cycles?" he asked.
"Two avenues to the east."
"Location of nearest safe, or defensible, location?"
Jeeves hesitated.
"You are on the opposite side of the port from nearly all of our allies and safeplaces. The yard repair barn is nearby and possibly defensible. If you remain where you are, I will send a car."
"No," Val Con said sharply. "I want no one else in this."
"Understood."
"Bechimo allows me to know that he has acquired the two targets—by which he means the duocycles opposite your location. He tells me that he can neutralize them."
"I'm touched," Val Con murmured. "Please ask Bechimo to hold fire. What is Theo's situation?"
"En route to Lady Kareen; she has not been pursued."
"Excellent. Where is the repair barn?"
"To your left, at the end of this row—two avenues distant."
"Staff?"
"One person in the back office."
Val Con nodded.
"That will be my target."
Get Liz to mobilize some mercs for an extraction, Miri said.
She felt him not like that, and added.
'less you're set on living in the repair barn, or have hard facts about those Scouts?
A very slight hesitation, before he said, They may be Scouts, though the odds do not favor that interpretation. Best to have the mercs.
"Jeeves, ask Commander Lizardi to move armed backup to the repair barn. Position report, please."
"Contacting Commander Lizardi. The duocycles that had been loitering two avenues to the east have moved on. The duocycles which brought you here are still parked opposite your position."
"Any sign of the drivers?"
"No, sir."
Worse and worse, he said, possibly to himself, and she felt him gather himself for the sprint down to the repair barn.
Now, he said, and they were gone, running at his top speed, keeping to shadow, weaving under gantries, and around bucket lifts. Miri ran with him, keeping both eyes open and ears stretched wide.
A shadow moved under the gantry ahead.
Val Con dodged left, ducked under the belly of the ship across the avenue, and kept on going. Nobody came after them.
Nobody had to, after all; they were waiting in the repair barn.
The first swung out to meet them; Val Con spun—there was a cough, very polite in its way, and the pellet hit him in the thigh.
He went down, rolling to come up on his elbows—and froze, looking up into the barrel of the—dart gun.
Horror lifted Miri out of his head, but not before she heard the gunman say, in the mode of Comrade.
"Well met, Agent yos'Phelium. Commander of Agents has called you in for debriefing."