Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [124]
With a meek nod, the mijar waved to the Eluoi troops. “Move back,” he ordered. “Do nothing that will endanger the savant!”
Reluctantly, the elite soldiers backed away, putting up their weapons and moving down the avenue in both directions. When they were a hundred meters away, Jackson spoke to the savant and the mijar together.
“This is what’s going to happen now. You and your boss here are going to come with us. We’re going to take the transport shaft up to the docking hub, and we’re all going for a ride in a nice shuttle. When we humans are safely delivered to our ship, we’re going to let you and Mr. Catal here go. Of course, if anyone tries to stop us, the two of you are going to be the first ones to die.”
“Corpsman Teal,” the LT called. “Can you come over here?”
The SEALS medic stood shakily, still trying to shrug off the effects of the savant’s paralyzing voice. Unlike Ruiz and Jackson, he had suffered the full fury of the psychic onslaught. He glowered at the prisoner as he stumbled toward Jackson. With each step, he appeared to grow stronger, until he was able to stand at attention when he reached his CO. “Please get a hypodermic ready,” the officer said. “I think the savant is going to take a little nap.”
The mijar looked at Catal, who mutely communicated something to his lackey. It was the mijar who then spoke to Jackson. “How do we know we can trust you?” he asked.
Jackson smiled, but it was an expression totally devoid of humor.
“You don’t,” he said.
Three hours later, the shuttle, with Olin Parvik at the controls, four SEALS and three Eluoi captives on the flight deck, and a hundred rescued prisoners in the hold, eased up to the docking bay of the Pangaea. Tezlac Catal was unconscious, still slumbering from the effects of Harry Teal’s syringe. The mijar and one unarmed Eluoi pilot who had been brought along to take them back to the Bazaar, watched suspiciously as the humans debarked from the shuttle.
Instead of removing himself immediately, however, Admiral Ballard came up to the flight deck to talk to Jackson. “Do you mind filling me in on the rest of the plan, Lieutenant?” He phrased the words as a question, but the LT recognized the order, and now that they were almost away, he was ready and willing to return to the normal hierarchy of command.
“Not at all, sir. I figured we would let the savant and his officer go as soon as the Pangaea is ready to accelerate toward a jumping point. They’ll be in this shuttle, chugging back to the Bazaar, so if any Eluoi ship makes a move to interfere with us, we’ll be able to blow up their Most Precious Leader in retaliation. They’ll let us go, sir, because they won’t dare let any harm come to him.”
“What about taking the screechy son of a bitch with us, all the way back to Earth?” Ballard asked, scowling at the unconscious Tezlac Catal.
Jackson shrugged. “I would do that if ordered, sir, but I suspect it would be tantamount to a declaration of war. This—well, sir—this is a just a rescue mission.”
Ballard nodded, appraising the lieutenant with narrowed eyes. “That’s some good strategic thinking, Lieutenant. Nice job, Bravo Zulu. Carry on.”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir,” Jackson replied. In spite of himself, he was warmed by the praise. Damn, the old Ball-Breaker just gave me a compliment.
“Oh, and one more thing, Lieutenant,” Ballard said before he departed through the hatch. “That SOB’s voice just about knocked me out, and it had the same effect on everyone else. How is it that you and your master chief were able to ignore it?”
Jackson grinned and unsnapped his helmet. He pulled the headgear off to reveal the handkerchief with its web of ionizing wires wrapped around his skull.
“My very gifted electrician’s mate Baxter came up with the idea after he did some reading about the savant while we were on that ice moon. In fact, your own observation—that you could swear you saw the lights flicker when the savant spoke—helped cement the hypothesis.