One Jump Ahead-ARC Read online

  The whole process couldn't have taken much more than a minute, but time was moving too fast, sucking the air out of the mission.

  "Can you carry him?" I said. "I've got to get Jasmine out of here."

  "Is your memory that short?" she said.

  As she checked his legs to be sure the glue was set and started working him onto her shoulder, I went to the closet.

  "Come on out, Jasmine," I said.

  No answer. I stood to the side and pulled the door open, in case she remembered my instructions. Nothing. I looked inside. She'd worked her way into a corner, her back to the door. Her shoulders shook as she whimpered almost soundlessly, the barest hint of sobbing audible only when I leaned close enough to touch her shoulder.

  "We have to leave now," I said.

  She turned around, then recoiled into the corner as Lim came into view, carrying Gustafson on her right shoulder, a gun in her left hand.

  "Grab my other pistol," she said to me. "Let's move."

  I pulled the weapon out of its holster and turned to go. Jasmine didn't follow. I grabbed her arm and yanked her next to me.

  "Same as before," I said. "Keep up and stay right behind me, or I'll knock you out and carry you."

  She nodded.

  I took off, Jasmine behind me. Lim trailed, moving slower under the weight of Gustafson and her constant checking over her shoulder for Amendos. I stopped at the landing halfway up the stairs. Jasmine bumped into me, but I kept my focus on the top of the stairwell. No one was in sight, so I walked most of the way up, motioned the others to stop, and stretched out on my stomach across the remaining stairs. I heard sounds of fighting, but they were distant; the house around us was quiet. I risked a look around the corner. All clear. I turned around, went to Lim, and pulled off Gustafson's mask. I put it on and started broadcasting.

  "Moore here," I said. "Cargo in tow, one down. Need status of my area and transport."

  A voice I didn't recognize responded almost immediately. "Interior secure. Cleaning exterior sides and rear. Exit front. Will alert transport."

  I stepped around the corner, pistol at the ready. I stood in some sort of informal meeting room. It was a wreck, furniture shattered and walls ripped. I ran to the doorway at the far end; Jasmine and Lim stayed right behind me. On the other side was the living area where I'd met Slake before. I headed for the front door, which was on the ground in pieces. Up here the fighting sounds were louder, but they all originated from the sides of the house. I almost collided with a sergeant in a Saw uniform as he stepped inside from the front porch.

  "Your transport's on the way, sir," he said. "Who's down?"

  "Top," I said. "One leg cut in half, the other with a deep wound. We did what we could, but he needs work right now."

  The sergeant turned and yelled out the door. "Haul it in here," he said. "Top's down. Rush him to the medic."

  "We'll take him from here, sir," he said to me. The respect and affection for Gustafson was evident in his voice and his eyes.

  Four men rushed in, two carrying a stretcher. They gently took Gustafson off Lim's shoulder and put him on the stretcher.

  "Let's go, Lim," I said.

  "Thanks," she said to the medics. As soon as they left with Gustafson, she collapsed. "I can't," she said to me.

  "What's wrong?"

  She pointed to her other shoulder. "Small stuff," she said, "but enough that I'll only slow you down."

  I looked closer and saw a burn through the top of her combat suit and a blackened gouge in the skin of her shoulder. The part of the wound on her back was freshly torn and bright red, blood oozing from it down her body.

  "Oh, hell, Lim," I said. "I'm sorry. You should have let me carry him."

  "No way," she said. "You were in the best condition for point, and you have to get the girl out of here." She nodded toward the front of the house, where the beach glowed faintly. "Go."

  "Okay," I said, "you're right." I stood. "Another down," I said to the sergeant.

  "Got her," he said.

  I didn't wait to make sure they did. I grabbed Jasmine's arm, and we dashed onto the now well-lit beach. In the glare of the spotlights of a ship flying toward us at high speed the beach might have been warming under an afternoon sun. The light was bright enough that the instant I entered the illuminated area I couldn't see anything outside it.

  "Moore here," I said. "With the cargo and in front of the house, ready for pickup."

  "Touching down in twenty seconds," Lobo's voice said. "Hostile ship airborne and banking over town. Board quickly."

  Lobo, a side hatch already open, settled to a hover less than fifty centimeters over the beach. I ran to him, dragging Jasmine behind me.

  "Where are we going?" she said.

  I didn't take the time to answer. I pushed her inside, jumped in myself, and pulled her back from the opening. Lobo closed it as soon as she was clear, turned sharply, and headed out over the ocean.

  We needed to get to the government center, so I started to ask Lobo why we were flying in almost exactly the opposite direction. Then I remembered his admonitions in the forest and instead forced myself to assume he knew what he was doing. I was surprised how hard it was to trust.

  I pushed away those thoughts; they were no help now. "Status?" I said.

  "Colonel Earl has mission recordings from all personnel and my message that you and Chung are aboard. That's enough for him to hold Slake, but only for the rest of the day. The Kelco fighter is hovering over the town, so we must assume whoever is commanding it has figured out our plan and is positioned to intercept us."

  Amendos. The other end of the prison hallway must have led to the landing area. "Course?"

  "One hundred and eighty degrees opposite the line formed by the house and the fighter, altitude two meters. Pending your instructions."

  The fighter should have trouble tracking us at this altitude, but we couldn't afford to stay this low forever; we had to get Jasmine to Earl. If we lured the fighter out to sea, we could engage it without having to worry about collateral damage to the town. "What are our chances in a battle with the Kelco ship?"

  "Effectively none. We'd win only if it possesses none of the weapons or defense systems typical of ships of its design."

  "So you've saved me just so they can kill me?" Jasmine said.

  I'd focused so much on the situation that I'd forgotten she was listening. I needed to maintain that focus. "I don't have time for this," I said. I grabbed her arm, ran her to the room where Lim had stayed, and shoved her in. "Buckle yourself into the acceleration couch." I backed out. "Lock her in." The door whisked shut. I dashed up front.

  "Can we outrun it?" I said.

  "Almost certainly not. It should be faster, though not by more than approximately twenty percent—provided Kelco hasn't customized it. In the atmosphere, we should be able to outmaneuver it, but just barely."

  "Enough for you to lead it away from town, then circle back briefly to drop us?"

  "No. Before I could decelerate enough that you could get off, it would destroy us."

  "We should have stayed on foot," I said, "and taken our chances with the Saw team protecting us."

  "Only if you assume the fighter would have refrained from attacking you on the ground," Lobo said. "Update: The fighter rose, spotted us, and is now on its way to us."

  We couldn't outrun it, and we couldn't outgun it.

  "Incoming communication from the Kelco ship for you," Lobo said. "Accept?"

  "Yes."

  Lobo opened a display on the front wall. Amendos' face filled it. "Mr. Moore," he said. "One option: We dock, you give me the girl, and we let you and your PCAV go. Otherwise, we destroy you, which though not as good an outcome for our company as maintaining control of the girl still leaves no proof of anything other than an unjustified Frontier Coalition attack on a corporate headquarters that quite understandably and quite legally defended itself. We'll catch you—"

  "Stop transmission," I said to Lobo, cutting
off Amendos.

  We couldn't outrun it, and we couldn't outgun it, but we weren't dead yet. I strapped myself into the pilot's couch.

  "Take the fastest course to Trethen," I said.

  "The fighter will catch us long before we get there."

  "I know," I said. "Remember your lecture to me about assumptions? Do it."

  "I executed your order as soon as you gave it," Lobo said. "I was simply supplying additional data."

  "How long until the fighter exits the atmosphere?"

  "One minute."

  "Thirty seconds after it does, fire half of your missiles at it," I said. "Put up a tracking display."

  A three-meter-wide schematic display blossomed on Lobo's front wall. Macken's surface, the end of its atmosphere, and Trethen appeared at appropriate scale. A yellow line marked our course; we were a small red dot on it. A black dot farther from the small moon than Lobo tracked the same course. The scale of the display made it almost impossible to tell from moment to moment that the black dot was gaining on us, but I knew it was.

  Lobo shook slightly as he fired. The ride would only get rougher.

  "You know that at this range the missiles are entirely useless," Lobo said, "because the fighter's defenses will have more than enough notice to dispatch them easily."

  "You're doing it again," I said.

  "No, I'm simply keeping you informed."

  I ignored his comment. "Time for the missiles to reach the fighter?" I said.

  "Four minutes," Lobo said. "Our lead has already shrunk."

  "Is Jasmine in the acceleration couch?"

  "Yes."

  "Lock her down," I said. "I don't want to have to worry about her getting hurt because she started roaming around at the wrong time."

  "Done."

  "What do you know about that fighter's guidance system?" I said.

  "I have no data about that craft per se," Lobo said. "It appears to be a standard five-year-old model, designed for low-orbit and midrange space combat, though with minimum in-atmosphere capabilities. The sat images suggest corporate customization, so I assume it offers more amenities than its pure military counterparts."

  "Guidance systems and weapons?"

  "Both are almost certainly milspec. Likely weapons include pulse-beam cannons and a variety of missiles. What level of detail would you like?"

  "That's enough on the weapons. We know it can destroy us once it's close enough that you don't have time to deal with its attack."

  "Correct."

  "Is its guidance system likely to be on par with yours?"

  "I have reason to believe that my level of intelligence is extraordinary among battle craft," Lobo said with what sounded like pride in his voice, "so the fighter is unlikely to match me in that area. Otherwise, however, our systems are from the same time frame and so should be similar."

  "You'll have to tell me about that reason sometime," I said.

  "No," Lobo said, "I don't. My programming doesn't mandate that."

  I wanted to pursue this topic further, but now was definitely not the time. "Sorry," I said. "Go back to the fighter's guidance system. What alerts are automatic in deep space?"

  "Collision, incoming missiles, and ship status," Lobo said.

  "Anything else?"

  "Such as?" Lobo said, and again the emotion showed, though this time he seemed peeved. Before I could answer, he continued. "Missiles entering range of fighter's defenses in three, two, one, now."

  "Record but do not encode the following message," I said. "Arriving highest speed with Jasmine Chung. Under pursuit from Kelco fighter. Request covering fire."

  "Done."

  "Send it on all frequencies to the secret Saw base on Trethen," I said. "Use a laser pulse transmission as well."

  "There is no Saw base on that moon," Lobo said.

  "Pick a spot on the side of the moon facing us and pretend," I said. "But send that transmission now."

  "Done," Lobo said.

  "Missile status?"

  "All but one destroyed by the fighter," Lobo said. "Last one under attack and," he paused for a few seconds, "now gone."

  "How much time did we gain?"

  "The fighter slowed for fifteen seconds," Lobo said, "and has now resumed full speed. Best estimate is that we gained five seconds."

  "Amendos won't think we spent those missiles well, will he?" I said.

  "Not unless he's far less competent than he appears."

  "Perfect. Is there any reason to believe the destruction of the missiles would have covered our transmission?"

  "Of course not," Lobo said. "Are you that unaware—"

  I cut him off. "Just making sure," I said. "How long until we reach Trethen?"

  "We won't reach it before the fighter gets us," Lobo said.

  "Hail the fighter."

  Amendos made me wait almost a minute. When his face appeared on the wall display in front of me, he was smiling and visibly more relaxed.

  "Reconsidered my offer?" he said.

  "No," I said. "I'm offering you a chance to surrender. Return to Macken, wait for Saw troops to take you into custody, and you can come out of this alive."

  A wave of emotions washed over him, his face shifting in rapid sequence from bewilderment to amusement to anger. Anger stayed. "I'd thought better of you, Moore," he said, "but now I realize you must simply have been lucky so far, or perhaps you benefited from the help of friends who are far more competent than you. No ship left Macken in pursuit. You're alone."

  "We'll be within range of the defense systems of the Saw base on Trethen before you can hurt or capture us," I said, "and they'll destroy you."

  "That's pathetic," he said, "as was your transmission. There's no base on that moon."

  "There's no base that you're aware of," I said, working hard for the annoyed tone of a lecturer addressing a particularly dim student. "I wouldn't have told you about it, but we'll have to reveal its existence anyway when we explain what happened to you. Last chance."

  "We would know if—"

  "Shut it off," I said to Lobo, cutting off Amendos again. The display winked out.

  "We're now at the extreme edge of the range of the fighter's missiles," Lobo said.

  "But you could handle them at this distance," I said.

  "Correct, which is why he won't fire them yet. He'll wait until he's close enough that I can't deal with all that he can send our way."

  "How far are we from Trethen?" I said, ignoring Lobo's prodding.

  "Roughly one hundred ninety-eight thousand kilometers and closing," Lobo said.

  "Superimpose on the display an arc three hundred thousand kilometers from the jump gate."