Balance of Terror Read online

  In a preoccupied mood, he opened the cabin door.

  “I’ll get some fuel together,” he remarked, then jumped down.

  Turning to his left, Srin registered Moon’s tank a little distance away. He lifted his gaze to meet hers behind the windscreen and saw a look of resolve fill her face.

  She’s about to do something!

  Srin had enough presence of mind to register that, rather than settling down, Moon had gunned her engine. His eyes widened.

  She’s going to ram the tank!

  His first impulse was to get back into the vehicle and rescue Gauder. He was still thinking that, reluctantly throwing himself out of the way, when the two tanks collided.

  Srin thought he had never heard a louder crash in his life. The sound appeared to consume the universe, the wails of injured metal and the shrieks of cracking glass overwhelming to his ears. He looked up from the sandy dirt, coughing a few times, when silence finally descended. Clouds of dust still filled the air. Rising to his feet, Srin staggered forward.

  Moon!

  Her tank looked in better condition than Gauder’s, although Srin noticed a widening pool of dark liquid beneath one set of treads. He clambered up the short ladder to the cabin and flung open the door. Moon was slumped over the steering wheel, her hands still gripping the controls.

  No! She can’t be—!

  Then he heard her groan and lift her head. She focused on him with dazed eyes.

  “Did I do it?”

  Srin wasn’t sure which emotion to unleash first. He was as mad as hell at her for risking her life in such a foolhardy way. He was so proud of her that he was sure his boastful laughter would be heard as far as Kushin Meet. He was also so afraid of what she might have done to herself that he could have broken down and wept right there at the open door.

  “What did you have in mind?” he finally asked. Was that exhaustion in his voice?

  “I wanted to put Gauder off-balance.” She sounded out of breath, as if she’d run at the other vehicle herself, rather than use a heavy transport to do it.

  “I think you put Gauder – and both his tanks – off-balance.” He reached out with his hand. “Come on, let’s check on our guide and see if he’s okay.”

  Moon hesitated, then followed him down to the ground. He supported her as she wavered.

  “Sorry,” she apologised, “that collision was more violent than I expected.”

  “They always are.”

  He led the way around the tank to the lead vehicle. Moon fell back then caught up with him as he reached the other cabin and he saw a large branch in her hands. His face must have betrayed an emotion because she glared at him.

  “I’m not taking any more chances, Srin. It’s either him or us.”

  Was Moon really capable of beating Gauder unconscious? Was he? Srin hoped he wouldn’t have to find out as he reached the driver’s door. It hung open like a rusty flap of skin. Srin tracked his gaze down and saw a still figure lying prone on the ground. Quickening his step, he reached Gauder and turned him over.

  “Is-is he alive?” Moon asked.

  Srin placed two of his fingers against Gauder’s dusty neck. “Yep, he’s still alive,” he answered in relief. He touched the man’s bloody forehead. “A bit banged up though.”

  A soft thud behind him informed him that Moon had dropped her branch-as-weapon.

  “We need a med kit,” he said, without turning around.

  “I’ll go get one.” Her voice was quiet.

  By the time Moon returned, Srin had moved Gauder away from his tank. He checked the trader for broken bones and, thankfully, found none.

  “How is he?” Moon asked, handing over the small, soft case.

  “Dislocated shoulder. Just as well he’s unconscious or he would have been yelling blue murder when I set it back in position.” With deft fingers, Srin opened the kit. “There’s a nasty gash on his forehead as well, but I’m hoping his thick skull saved his brain from any permanent damage.”

  Srin worked quickly, cleaning Gauder’s wound and bandaging it. When done, he wiped his hands on his thighs, turned and sat on the ground, using the unconscious man’s bulk as a back rest.

  “Just when I think I know you,” Srin said, a smile dancing on his lips, “you turn around and completely bamboozle me.”

  Moon frowned. “You know as well as I do that we had to get away as soon as possible.”

  “I’m not saying I disagree with what you did.” Srin laughed. “All I’m saying is that the woman I saw bearing down on me in a heavy tank bore little resemblance to the physicist I remember waking up to on Lunar Fifteen.”

  Moon smiled and collapsed to the ground next to him. “All complaints should be sent to the administration department.”

  Srin saw beneath the joke to her exhaustion. Pulling her towards him, he began kneading her shoulders. “Who says I’m complaining? But remind me never to make you angry.”

  Underneath his fingers, he felt muscles as taut as rope slowly relaxing and a tremor as she sighed.

  ”So what happens now? We can’t leave him like this, but I don’t want to stay.”

  “Hmmm. Well, I agree with you about leaving. I don’t think Gauder will be in the mood to discuss anything when he wakes up. And I think we should go as soon as possible.” He mulled over their available options. “Maybe we can put him in his tank.”

  “Throw in some rations,” Moon added.

  “Let him keep the credit disc he took from us.”

  “But keep the comms unit somewhere where he won’t find it for a couple of days.” There was a distinct warning in her voice.

  Srin kissed her right shoulder, not caring that it was dusty. “Sounds like a workable plan.”

  In the end, finding that Gauder’s tank was in better condition than the vehicle Moon had been driving, they moved their meagre supplies to his tank.

  “He’ll need to call for help,” Srin remarked as they carried Gauder to the second vehicle. “The engine may start, but it won’t get very far, leaking fuel and fluids like it’s doing.”

  They tied the trader’s hands behind his back, left him with a week’s worth of rations and sealed the door. Just before closing the panel, Srin threw the credit disc at his feet.

  “Where do we go now?” Moon asked as she started the tank’s engine. The dented passenger door refused to close properly, so Srin used some wire to secure it to the seat’s frame. “We can’t head for the rendezvous point because we don’t know where it is.” She looked at him. “Unless Gauder told you.”

  He shook his head. “That only leaves Kushin Meet.”

  “Back to the Meet? Is that wise?”

  “Wiser than heading back to one of the cities where the Security Force is based. Besides, I noticed a few other interesting vehicles in the parking area.”

  Moon nodded. “Those fancy little shuttles, you mean? I noticed them too.”

  “Maybe we can find something there that fits our current needs more – a flitter we can jack or even a faster tank. Something that’s not as conspicuous as this giant and that’ll get us far from Gauder in little time.”

  She grinned. “We’re turning into real criminals, aren’t we? At the rate we’re going, the Republic won’t need to falsify more charges at our trial.”

  He winked at her. “They’ll have to catch us first.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was one of the longest two days Moon had ever known.

  She worried about Gauder behind them. Had he somehow managed to repair his tank? Was he catching up to them? Had he radioed to the Security Force for help?

  She worried about Kushin Meet ahead of them. Would they be recognised? How keen would the owners of the gambling den be on recovering their lost money?

  She worried about Srin. How well was he holding up? Would he still be okay by the time they reached the Meet? What did he know about jacking vehicles?

  She worried about them. How the hell were they going to get to 3 Enkil IV? Was
Kad as good as his word? Would there ever be an end to all the running?

  By unspoken agreement, they didn’t stop at night, instead taking turns to drive the tank and snatching naps when it came time to re-fuel the vehicle from the stores in the cargo bay or assuage their hunger pangs with a small store of ration packs.

  “Gauder said that that the Meet was only going to be around for another week,” Srin said tersely as he checked their coordinates on the navigation screen, “and that was five days ago.”

  Moon didn’t have to be a telepath to pick up his unspoken thoughts. What were they going to do if the Meet had closed down and prematurely moved on? Did they have enough fuel to get back to Colken?

  Then, in the darkness of the night, as they crested a dune, they saw lights blinking in the distance.

  “Kushin,” Moon breathed.

  Beside her, she heard Srin exhale as well. “So that’s phase one over,” he said. “Ready for phase two?”

  With only a slight crunch of gears, Moon jolted into overdrive. “Ready whenever you are.”

  They approached Kushin boldly and, now that they knew where the visitors and merchants parked their vehicles, they headed for that compound. If the attendants thought it strange that the tank they had seen leaving several days earlier was now back – and in much worse condition – they didn’t let on. Moon drove to where she was directed, killed the engine and scrabbled in a small tray on the dashboard for a low-credit disc.

  A local, swathed in robes and almost invisible in the darkness, was waiting for them as they climbed down the ladder. Moon handed him? her? the disc, got the first daily charge deducted, then it was handed back.

  “Now what?” she half-whispered.

  “No use waiting,” Srin replied. “Let’s see if any vehicles here strike our fancy.”

  Trying to look nonchalant, they walked the rows of transports, looking for a likely candidate. When finally they found it, Moon almost jumped for joy.

  “It almost looks space-worthy,” Srin remarked, eyeing the dark hull, and Moon heard the mix of disbelief and happiness in his voice.

  “Think it can get us off-planet?” She didn’t bother to hide her eagerness.

  “I’m not sure. We’d need to get inside, get a look at the controls.”

  Srin sidled up to the door of the wedge-shaped shuttle. He must have run a hand over the metal because he remarked: “Feels like it’s seen some action. The skin’s rough and there’s some long scoring across the door panel.”

  “I’ve never jacked a shuttle before,” she admitted, “so I hope you have.”

  Srin chuckled. “How difficult could it be?”

  “Well you’ll need some time to do it. Let me go to the end of the row and check where the attendants are.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll get my stuff and the small equipment kit from the tank.”

  They retraced their steps, Srin peeling off when he reached the distinctive silhouette of their vehicle. As quietly as she could, Moon crept further along until she was at an intersection of wide tracks. Deliberately stilling her breathing, she looked around and tried to pick up sounds of approaching traffic. From a distance of about ten metres, she heard the general murmur of conversation, broken by snatches of music and some good-natured yelling. Occasionally, the noise was punctuated by clashes of metal and glass. Closer to where she stood was silence. No other transport had followed them into the compound and, with dawn set to break in another three hours, she doubted that there would be much moving traffic until well into the following morning.

  Feeling satisfied, she went back to the tank, unloaded it of her personal belongings – packed neatly into one rucksack during one of their brief stops – and headed in the shuttle’s direction.

  She only began relaxing when she saw the ungainly-looking panels of the shuttle’s nose peek out between its neighbours.

  “Srin,” she called softly.

  There was no answer. Frowning, she approached the door and put her hand against it. The panel didn’t budge.

  “Srin, are you here?”

  His footsteps approached from the other side of the shuttle.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” she scolded with a hiss. “For a moment, I thought—”

  She didn’t even know when the scrambler ray hit her, and it went darker than Marentim at midnight.

  “Did you have to bring them here?”

  The aggrieved male tone penetrated the fog that enfolded Moon’s brain. She let out a quiet gasp and lifted one hand to her throbbing head. It didn’t appear that anyone heard her because the conversation continued.

  “Well I’m sorry I didn’t follow any unwritten protocols, grandpa, but these two were trying to jack my shuttle.”

  “Your shuttle?” The voice was icy.

  “Okay, the ship’s shuttle that just happens to be my favourite. Anyway, that’s not the point.”

  “No, as I recall, the point was you taking off with barely any notice on a whim to see some damned native gathering on a planet at the edge of space.”

  “Hey, Kushin Meet’s one of the last of the old-time Marentim tribal festivals. Two creases away, four days there and back, plus maybe two to have a look around, know what I mean? C’mon grandpa, it was killing me being cooped up on this ship. Just because you don’t have any fun doesn’t mean I don’t get to have any either.”

  “Quinten Tamlan.”

  Now that was a strange voice. Not unpleasant in tone but…mechanical sounding.

  Moon blinked her eyes open and saw three people standing over her. Startled, her gaze flicked from one to the other.

  A young man, not tall, very skinny, with an insolent twist to his lips. A…woman, white skin, white hair, black eyes, slim, tall. And another man, scarred, well-built, in some kind of battle armour. Without taking her gaze from them, she moved her hand from her side and felt it collide with another limb. Srin’s arm. Still warm.

  “You tried to jack my shuttle,” the man in battle armour said from his superior height advantage.

  “I….” Moon tried to swallow past the dryness in her throat. “I….” This time she stopped because she didn’t know what to say. Who were these people anyway? Pirates?

  “Saff,” the man said, “help them up and take them to one of the, ah, briefing rooms, while I have a word with Mr. Cenredi here.”

  “Yes, Quinten Tamlan.”

  The white-skinned woman reached down and, with an ease that belied her lithe figure, pulled Moon to her feet. Then she bent and hoisted Srin’s solid frame over her shoulder. Moon’s eyes widened at the woman’s obvious strength but she didn’t say a word.

  “There’s nowhere for you to run,” the man told Moon in no uncertain terms, “so I suggest you follow my crewmember. I’ll be along shortly.”

  Despite the thumping in her head, Moon tried to take a look around as she was being gestured out. She supposed they were in some kind of cargo bay, although it was much smaller than the ones aboard the Differential. Did that mean they were aboard a ship that was also proportionally smaller?

  She exited the bay and followed the strange pale woman up a short ramp. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t a long straight corridor that appeared to tear through the length of the entire vessel. The walls and ceiling looked sleek enough but Moon didn’t think she’d ever been in such a bare-looking ship. Even the prison transports she’d briefly been on had been closed off into smaller compartments. This clear view from the stern almost to the bow of the vessel made it look alien and unfinished. Still, there was nothing she could do about that, so she dutifully followed the white-skinned woman down the passage that hummed with background engine noise. Beneath her booted feet, the metal walkway clanked as they headed away from the cargo bay.

  The tall crewmember wasn’t saying a word. She might be a human, but Moon didn’t think so. Humanoid certainly. Maybe a mix of human with something else? She’d heard about the range of feasible morphologies from some colleagues at several so
cial events, but she had never seen such a being in reality. Moon’s scientific curiosity was aroused but she knew this was neither the time nor the place to satisfy it.

  After they’d traversed what appeared to be half of the ship, the woman led Moon down a small flight of steps, palming open the door with her free hand.

  “You will wait in here.”

  Moon looked around as she was ushered into a briefing room that resembled a detention centre cell. Bare walls. Flat ceiling. A small shelving unit, no doubt bolted to the floor. A square table pushed into one corner. Three chairs, none of them comfortable-looking.

  Srin was placed in a chair with more care than Moon was expecting, then the woman – had the armoured man called her “Saff”? – left them. The door hissed shut with a quiet finality.

  Moon rushed over to Srin, lightly slapping his face and sighing with relief when his eyes fluttered open.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  He groaned and straightened. “As if someone hammered me with a tecton-sledge. What happened?”

  “From what I can gather,” Moon said slowly, after a guarded look around, “we were trying to jack a shuttle belonging to this ship. One of the crewmembers decided to take it for a joy-ride to Marentim, saw us snooping around, knocked us out, and brought us here.”

  Srin looked up at her. “Where’s ‘here’?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I came to on the floor of a cargo bay in the middle of an argument. That was no more than a quarter of an hour ago.”

  “And our things?”

  Moon looked around the bare room with a speaking glance.

  Srin groaned. “Out of one bad situation, straight into another, eh?” He kneaded his forehead, wrinkling the skin.

  “How are you feeling?” Moon asked.

  “Besides the nausea, headache and feeling of disorientation?” He blinked several times. “Fine, just fine.” Then he focused on her face. “What about you?”

  Moon grimaced. “If we keep getting waylaid like this,” she remarked, “we’ll run out of medication before reaching Kad.”