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Delgado turned to Drake and gestured at Limix. “Take him to the brig. He remains in solitary, with no visitors until further notice. Put a bag over his head and take the back passages. I’d rather word of his arrest doesn’t spread just yet.”
“Yes, sir.” Drake pulled a set of wrist restraints from his tactical harness and, with Maiikonnen’s help, shackled the bewildered shop steward, who shuffled off between them, looking like a lost soul.
“I’ll head for the infirmary and see that they pick up Engstrom’s body,” Hak said. He glanced at Kuzek. “You stick with the Skipper.”
When Hak was gone, Delgado fought the irresistible urge to commit an act of vandalism and lost. He pulled out his blaster and walked over to the late station commander’s desk. The weapon coughed once, punching a hole in the embedded terminal and rendering it incapable of connecting with any of Tyrell’s nodes. It was a useless gesture, but he felt a small measure of satisfaction nonetheless.
He checked the improvised explosive device and made sure it was out of action, though part of him regretted not being able to reset it and catch the opposition flat-footed when they checked in on Limix. Then a thought struck him, and he opened a frequency with the command post.
“Zero, this is Niner.”
“Zero.”
“What is Romana Movane’s last known location?”
“Wait one.” Then, “Her office.”
“Thank you. Ready to assume management?”
“Affirmative.”
“Execute. Niner, out.”
And with that, Major Curtis Delgado’s command post supplanted both the station’s operations center and whoever took over via Limix’s treachery. He was now not just Tyrell’s commanding officer by dint of rank, but because he controlled it.
“Let’s see what Chief Administrator Movane says about this.”
They found her office door unlocked, though she didn’t respond to the call panel. Delgado opened it and found her lying on the floor, ankles, and wrists restrained with the sort of quick ties miners used. She stared at them with wide eyes, though she couldn’t speak with the rag stuffed in her mouth.
Delgado knelt beside her and removed the piece of cloth. “Are you okay?”
“Limix. He did it,” she croaked.
“Figures. He killed Engstrom.” Delgado worked the quick ties and released her.
“I heard a scuffle next door.” Movane sat up and massaged her wrists one at a time. “Who’d figure on Ed turning rogue?”
“It’s called greed, Chief Administrator.” Delgado stood, held out his hand, and helped Movane up. “A team of hostile operatives is attempting to seize Tyrell at this moment, and Limix was their inside man. He’s headed for the brig, but the damage is done.”
“What hostiles?” She frowned.
“I assume it’s related to the hidden artifact, with the Second Migration War ammunition bunker thrown in as a last-minute bonus.”
Movane appeared to chew on her words for a moment. “How did you find out?”
“About the artifact? We kept exploring abandoned galleries, looking for whatever it was so many people were attempting to hide by distracting us.”
Her scowl deepened. “And the bunker?”
“That’s why Fleet HQ sent us here in the first place. When the mining droid reported the find as per protocol, analysis of the visual record established the bunker was filled with biological and chemical warheads. Forbidden weapons, which, in the wrong hands, could kill millions. My primary job is ensuring no one tries to retrieve the warheads until specialists arrive. It was to proceed in secret, but since you, and by that, I mean Tyrell’s leadership, were also hiding secrets — well, both secrecy streams intersected and created a mess.”
“Who are you really, Major? You’re certainly not the usual sort of Marine we see here.”
“My unit and I belong to Special Operations Command. With Engstrom dead, I’m now also Tyrell’s commanding officer, and we’re in the middle of a crisis. I’ll need your full cooperation so we can make sure no one other than the enemy dies today. But you’ll be working from my command post until this is over.” When she bristled, Delgado raised a restraining hand. “It’s for your own safety and that of Tyrell. And refusal is not an option.”
As he led her out into the corridor, the lift opened, disgorging Doctor Blake and two medics with a floating stretcher.
“Major. Your first sergeant said Captain Engstrom was murdered?” Blake seemed aghast at the idea.
“Sadly, yes.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the open door to Engstrom’s office. “And I’ve placed Ed Limix under arrest.”
Blake’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon? Ed Limix? What in the name of all that’s holy is happening around here?”
Delgado shrugged. “Someone is working on a hostile takeover of Tyrell. Not that they’ll succeed.”
At that moment, his communicator chimed. He tapped the earpiece.
“Niner.”
“Zero. We just detected another unauthorized attempt at using the subspace transmitter. The AI shut it off immediately.”
“Good. I’m on my way. Niner, out.”
Blake gave Delgado a grim look. “Shall I break out more body bags?”
The Marine slapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. “I’ll try my best to make sure Engstrom is the only casualty from our side today. The enemy? Well, for them, you won’t need body bags, just a convenient airlock.”
“And tomorrow?”
“If this goes the way I intend,” Delgado said over his shoulder, “the problem will be sorted by tomorrow. Come on, Chief Administrator. We have a mining station to save.”
**
Jannika Hallikonnoen felt the icy hand of fear squeeze her guts for the first time since arriving on Tyrell as she forced herself to walk calmly down the corridor. Events were spinning out of control twelve hours ahead of schedule, which meant the entire operation was in jeopardy.
She knew Limix had failed when she lost access to the reactor controls from her hidden panel in Engineering Module Two, at the bottom of the base. Somehow, the Marines had found the tap and shut it off completely. While her action team was preparing to gain control of Tyrell and open it up wide for the coming raid, Delgado was laughing at their efforts. And for that, his death would be painful and prolonged.
But she still held one last card, a backup only she knew about. Limix did not possess the skills to manipulate the security programming by himself. No, he’d merely provided easy access to a workstation from which the security files could be modified. She had given him a data wafer containing instructions that would transfer sole control of vital functions to her.
However, those instructions also contained a subroutine by which she would secure a back door entrance into the system from any workstation in the operations center. Limix hadn’t known about it, so even if the Marines traced his actions, they’d never find her insurance. No Marine could be that good a hacker. Not even one of Delgado’s people.
As she rounded a corner, she glimpsed a by now well-known face beneath a rakishly angled blue beret — Command Sergeant Rolf Painter moving through a cluster of off-duty miners.
He was following her, that she was sure, and she mentally swore as a surge of hatred for the taciturn Marine noncom welled up her throat. She shoved a pair of protesting miners aside in her haste to break away from Painter and missed the two Marines stepping out of a darkened maintenance alcove.
They openly followed the Sécurité Spéciale agent to the clear tube connecting the Recreation Module to Administration Module Three, as if they didn’t have a single care in the universe. Hallikonnoen took one glance over her shoulder and muttered a string of curses in her native Finnish, heart beating faster as she felt an invisible net tightening around her.
In Admin Three, traffic was much lighter. Greaves and Ng, closely followed by Painter, had no problems keeping Hallikonnoen in sight. She turned into a small corridor off the central passageway and slapped the access panel beside the door leading to the operations center. It slid open with a faint hiss, and she entered. The door closed behind her before the Marines reached the side passage.
Four pairs of astonished eyes looked up at her from the various workstations as she pulled a large-bore blaster from beneath her loose jacket.
“All right, my friends, raise your hands and place them on your heads.” When they’d done so, she studied them with soulless eyes. “Cooperate, and you’ll live. Annoy me, and you’ll get a nice round hole in the forehead.”
She indicated the spare parts closet. “In there, quick, before my patience vanishes.”
They obeyed with alacrity. After locking the door, she took the duty manager’s console and used its master controls to ensure no one could enter the operations center short of cutting a hole with a mining laser.
Out in the corridor, Painter caught up with Greaves and Ng.
“She locked herself in with the local override,” Greaves reported.
“As expected. Zero, this is One-One. Hallikonnoen is in the operations center.”
“Roger that. We’re picking her up via the station net.” Testo paused. “She gave herself a back door into the system and is attempting to lock up the module.”
“You’d think the opposition’s field agents are smarter than that.”
“Niner here,” Delgado’s voice came over the company net. “They suffer from overconfidence, not lack of smarts. Let’s let her roam the network and believe she can still win. At least until we’ve rounded up her team. That way, she won’t try pulling a terminal gambit, like threatening to blow us into the Infinite Void.”
“Understood,” Testo replied. “But there’s a limit to how long we can play this game before she either twigs or finds a way past our virtual walls.”
“Understood. Niner, out.”
Painter turned to Greaves and said, “Call the rest of your section up here, Lanny. When Niner gives the execute, blow your way into the ops center and neutralize Hallikonnoen. Don’t bother trying to take her alive. She won’t be of any use as a prisoner.”
“Wilco, Sarge.”
“I’m heading back to the CP.”
**
Delgado, also on his way to the command post with Kuzek and Movane, was standing by the lift doors when they heard a dull thud accompanied by a shock wave that coursed through Tyrell. Around them, workers stopped moving as they put on alarmed expressions. When no sirens sounded, the workers clustered into small groups and murmured among themselves.
The Marine tapped his communicator. “Zero, this is Niner. What was that?”
“Zero here, wait one. Contact report inbound.” A few seconds passed, then Testo spoke again. “An explosion destroyed the communications module, including the subspace array. We’ve lost outward comms.”
“What?”
Instead of answering his commanding officer, Testo said, “Go ahead with the sitrep, One-Two-Charlie.”
“Roger that,” Sergeant Moses Singh replied. “We were following one of the new arrivals up to the subspace array module. She caught sight of us and vanished into a maintenance crawlspace. From there, she somehow gained access to the transmission room and locked herself in. I tried to override the lock with our code, but it didn’t work, so I used detcord to disable it.” Delgado winced at the statement but remained silent. If the company’s override didn’t work locally, Testo couldn’t do so from the command post either.
“With the lock blown, we pushed the door halfway open and were greeted by blaster fire. I tossed in a concussion grenade. It blew, triggering another explosion that ruptured the module’s outer envelope because the door slammed shut when it sensed a loss of pressure. We pulled back to the next airlock and secured it.”
Delgado nodded to himself. “The intruder had an explosive charge, perhaps with a kill switch that was triggered by the concussion grenade.”
“Could be. She was carrying a miner’s tool satchel. Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize. The rest of Tyrell retains structural integrity, and that’s what really counts. We were going to lose the subspace array no matter what, especially if the intruder was on a one-way mission. Besides, once we miss the second sitrep in a row, HQ will send help.”
Delgado paused, wishing reality was as simple as that. Unfortunately, his gut told him they would face an attack from above in the coming hours, and their only protection was four antiquated battlecruiser guns sitting on the high cliffs around Tyrell.
“Zero, round up the remaining targets. We are weapons-free. All callsigns may shoot to kill if necessary. We can live without the subspace array, but we can’t without the fusion plant, the environmental system, or hydroponics.”
Delgado and Kuzek stepped into the waiting lift, ignoring the appalled looks of workers who’d overheard the former’s part of the conversation. When they stepped off on the lower level, he absently listened to the various patrols answer while he and Kuzek made their way to the command post.
He hoped no innocent miners would be caught in the crossfire, but by now, the base would be as stirred up as it had ever been, and the corridors would be thick with gossiping civilians, exchanging rumors.
Unfortunately, the order to round up the Sécurité Spéciale operatives came too late for at least one high-value target. Four explosions in quick succession sent shock waves through the station’s structure.
“Niner, this is Zero. Those were the four control nodes for the big guns.”
“That’s what I figured. Thank the Almighty for contingency planning.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Delgado allowed himself a faint smile. He’d fooled the opposition with his fake plans, and thus, they didn’t realize the control nodes were redundant. He always intended on having the guns crewed and served in situ by Marines whose training included the use of heavy direct fire support weapons in an anti-ship role, in other words, naval gunnery.
“Zero, this is One-Three,” Command Sergeant Isaac Dyas’ voice interrupted Delgado’s thoughts. “We slagged the rats responsible for those last fireworks.”
“Zero, well done.”
Delgado and Kuzek reached the command post without further incident, dodging the questions of worried mine workers along the way. However, the Marine knew they would present another difficult situation sooner rather than later.
Testo turned around as soon as he sensed his commanding officer.
“One of Rolf’s patrols stopped two Sécurité Spéciale operatives just outside the power plant module. Both are dead, but they clipped Reg Harris. Nothing fatal, although he’s out of action and headed for the infirmary. And that makes ten enemy agents, not counting Hallikonnoen.”
Delgado dropped into his usual chair and tapped his chin with the fingers of his right hand.
“We counted twelve new arrivals who were suspect. Where are the other two? Assuming our count is right in the first place.”
“I’m afraid we lost them a few minutes ago, Skipper.”
After a few more taps, Delgado’s eyes narrowed. “Did the patrols pick up anyone near or in Hydroponics Module Three?”
“No.”
“Then that’s it. Send the nearest team.”