Brought Down

36. The Cargo.

Garrett

Father walks in measured, robotic steps. At first, I hold him by the arm, but the obedience with which he speeds up and slows down according to my pulling hand makes me want to scream, or to kill someone. Gradually and silently, Angie edges me away and takes my place. I drop back and watch the two of them walk with the rest of the delegation.

It's so painful to see him like this. There's no way in the world I could have prevented what has happened to him, yet it feels like I let him down.

In the end, I find myself walking with Thompson. We let others go ahead and are now closing the procession. In front of us, Angie's ponytail moves steadily from side to side, and my father keeps putting one foot ahead of the other.

"He will pay for it," says Thompson quietly. "Calm down. We need you calm."

I shake my head and force my fists to open.

"Fifteen minutes," he says. "In fifteen minutes, you can have him. The delay won't matter to your father."

"They could kill Julian in the meanwhile."

He sighs heavily. "You must keep things in perspective. It's one man's life against --"

"I know," I say. "But when they realize what's going on, they will kill him for sure."

"They won't have time if we succeed—and if we fail, we're all dead, including him."

"If I didn't lash at him, he wouldn't --"

"Concentrate on the mission at hand, Garrett." He gives me a stern look.

I nod. What's done is done. But why did I have to get so angry with Julian? I knew he was a royal, and aware of their crimes, even if he didn't take an active part in them. I couldn't strike at Burnface, so Julian was the closest target. But was it fair to blame him for not being a hero all those years, for not going against everything he knew?

In front of me, the walking people rearrange, taking their predefined positions. Some go forward, some move back. Four groups—for the control room, the auxiliary control room, the armory, the crew quarters. The ten people waiting for us in the hangar have their own assignments. We've learned the layout of the ship by the schemes Julian drew us.

For thirty people taking over a crew of three hundred is an ambitious undertaking—yet not an impossible one.

Screw the agreement. We have seen how they keep their word. Royals lie.

So can we.

We don't want increased rations and better working conditions. We want the motherships, the space stations, the artificial fields, the sky of stars. We deserve it as much as they do. Since they won't admit us willingly, we will make them.

The hangar doors open, and we face two familiar lines of soldiers standing at attention, their guns pointing up. The guns that must soon be ours. Our people we have left in the shuttle wonder around the hangar, pretending to examine their surroundings. The moment we enter, they look our way.

Burnface turns to us, perhaps to give another one of his speeches.

Thompson checks his watch and says: "Now."

The advantage of surprise is the only one we have, and we make the full use of it. The soldiers have no time to realize what has hit them as we storm at them, knocking them out, wrestling the guns out of their hands. The orderly hangar is instantly a mess of screaming, fighting people.

I punch the soldier closest to me in the face, sending him sprawling to the floor. Even before he's down, I grab his gun and turn to Burnface, only to face the barrel of his assistant's gun pointed at me. Then comes a shot and the man flies to the side and drops to the floor. I look around but in the bustle I can't even see who has just saved my life.

I do see Burnface, though. He's running back to the exit through which we have just entered. Some of our people are outside already, so he won't be able to lock us here or escape. It seems he's heading straight into their arms. Yet, just before the exit, he turns right, presses his palm to an invisible scanner on the wall, and a narrow door opens in it.

"Stop him," I shout, "there's a door!"

But those outside don't see him now, or hear me, and everybody inside are still engaged. By the time I reach the secret door, it has already slid back into place, and I can only curse in impotent anger.

"Go, go, go!" shouts Thompson. "Garrett, control center! Wiggs, auxiliary! Mike, armory! Angie, sleeping quarters! Gonzo --"

As he shouts orders, people gather in groups, and leave the hangar in a run. I notice my father by the wall where Angie has sat him when the fighting began. He looks ahead impassively, keeping his hands on his knees.

The four fighters assigned to my group gather around me, armed and ready.

Yet, I hesitate. Burnface will surely order to kill Julian now. Especially when he realizes that the other ships are under attack as well, that the cargo they have just received has concealed inside hundreds of armed people and explosives.

"Garrett, what are you waiting for?" Thompson shouts. "The control room!"

"What about the laboratory?" I say, and catch Angie's hurt glance as she leaves the room with her group.

"For fuck's sake, you have a duty!" Thompson shouts, and I finally put myself together. Taking over the control center is the key to the whole operation, and it is more important than my life, of Julian's. The stakes are too high to hesitate.

"Let's go." I turn and run out of the hangar, with my friends following close on my heels.

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