Chapter 8 

Connell was just about to re-enter the atmosphere of Isis in the shuttle, when he got the alarm signal from Rice's wristcom. A split second later he received a frantic message from Ser Flannery, reporting that all communication with the four men still at the camp had ceased. Something had gone horribly wrong. 

For a second he hesitated, should he return to Aykut for help? He was the only man on the shuttle, the others having stayed behind because this was intended to be the final run. No, speed was probably more important at this stage. He pushed the shuttle up to maximum velocity, at the same time sending an order back to Sergeant Forrester, now the senior man on Aykut, requesting back up as soon as possible. Then he asked Ser Flannery to keep monitoring the Patrol communication equipment in case any information managed to come through from the camp.  

What on Earth had happened to Rice and the others? He wondered for a sick moment if something in one of the tents had exploded either intentionally or accidently. Though surely Ser Flannery would have heard an explosion big enough to take out four men at once? No, a more likely scenario was that there had been more than twelve men involved in the illegal mining, and that whoever was still out there had returned to find their camp had been discovered. He hoped Kim was alright. He hoped all his comrades were still alive, even Rice. 

Scarcely more than ten minutes after the alarm had been sounded, Connell found himself approaching the camp, still about a kilometre up, looking down at the picture of three bodies on the ground. None of them were moving. Quickly he swooped down until he could see that they were Patrol men, Kim, Grigoryan and Nakamura. There was no sign of Captain Rice, or anyone else for that matter.  

He refused to believe they were dead. He needed to check whether the three on the ground required urgent medical attention. 

He needed to scan the surrounds for Captain Rice and the attackers.  

He decided to check on the three he could see first. It was the work of moments to land in the same place Ser Flannery's hovercar had used earlier that day. Alert to the possibility of a further ambush, he was careful to make sure the shuttle was fully secured before leaving it, and then, a stunner in each hand, he walked swiftly towards the campsite. Even before he reached him, he saw an ugly gash in Kim's leg, a red stain on the ground beneath, where the blood had pooled. It looked like a laser gun had sheared right across the front of his shin. Bad as the wound was, Kim was amazingly lucky the laser gun hadn't taken off his whole calf. 

It seemed he had guessed correctly. A second group of miners had evidently returned to the site and the patrolmen had been taken by surprise. Why on Earth hadn't he thought to post a sentry? Why hadn't Rice? They had both assumed they had caught everyone in their raid, twelve men had seemed a large number for this sort of operation and they had both let down their guard, foolishly as it turned out. He pushed his thoughts ruthlessly aside, time enough to allocate blame when everyone was safe. 

His heart in his mouth, Connell knelt down beside Kim and felt for a pulse. It was there, but faint and thready. Connell tore open his first aid pack, ripped the uniform away from Kim's leg and sprayed plasfoam over the whole wound, a medic could dress it properly later, the most important thing now was to stop that fearful bleeding. When he was certain there was no more blood leaking out he went quickly to check on Nakamura and Grigoryan. Thankfully they had no similar wounds that he could see, they both appeared to have been simply stunned. He made sure they were in coma recovery positions, then returned quickly to Kim.  

He was still unconscious, his breathing ragged and his pulse uneven, but he was alive. Connell took a small bottle of blood plasma from the first aid kit and injected it into Kim's upper arm. He made him as comfortable as he could but there was little more he could do until a medic arrived, and he needed to find Captain Rice. What if he was lying nearby, injured like Kim or dead? 

He called Ser Flannery again. The ex-patrol man promised to get there as fast as he could and transport the injured back to his resort, that would have to do for the moment. Reluctantly Connell left the three men and returned to the shuttle, taking it up to about a hundred metres to search the area in increasingly wide circles, using both visual and heat surveillance devices. 

About a kilometre from the campsite he discovered a cleared piece of ground, the undergrowth flattened, indicating it had been used as a temporary landing site. A dark hole gaped in the ground but there was no shuttle present and no signs of life in the vicinity. He circled over it again, but nothing moved, nothing registered on his heat sensor apart from plants and small animals. He couldn't waste time checking it out in person. He moved on again, continuing his search. 

XXX 

Stefan Rice woke to find himself bound both hand and foot, the plasfoam strips cutting painfully into his wrists and ankles, a strip of tape across his mouth. Even worse he had a bag of some sort over his head, keeping the air hot and stale around his face, preventing him from seeing anything except a very faint light. He was lying on a rough surface with several small objects digging into him, and judging by the pain in his hip, he had just been dropped there. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the bag or at least get some fresher air. 

"He's awake boss," announced an unfamiliar voice. 

"We've come far enough," declared another voice, evidently the man in charge. "We're a good half a kilometre underground now, there's no way anyone will find him." 

"I just hope we can find him again, after they give us back our silver," joked the first voice.  

"You don't need to worry about that," replied the leader, then added with an unpleasant laugh, "They just better be quick to meet our demands, last time I looked there wasn't a lot of food and water down here!" 

Rice tried even harder to dislodge the bag from his head, trying not to panic. Were they just going to leave him here to suffocate? 

"I don't think he can breathe!" said a third voice, sounding worried. 

"He's fine," insisted the leader impatiently. "It's time to go." 

"I tell you he can't breathe properly with that over his face," argued the other man. 

Suddenly the bag was pulled off his head, thank you sweet god, and Rice filled his lungs, breathing in hard through his nose. He would have thanked his saviour but he couldn't speak with the tape over his mouth. He blinked furiously to clear his vision, it was still pretty dark, even without the bag. How long had he been out? Were the rest of his men here too? 

He looked around and discovered at once that he was in a small cave or short tunnel, the only light was coming from the helmets of the three men who were standing over him. He could see that sharp edges of rock, recently cut with a laser blade, formed the walls of the cave and loose rubble covered the jagged floor. No wonder he could feel stones digging into him. He was the only prisoner there as far as he could tell. 

He heard a small gasp and looked up to see a short man, who was standing with the bag still in one hand, staring at him as if he had seen a ghost. What was that about? He was pretty sure he'd never seen him before. 

He didn't have time to wonder any further before the leader spoke again, drawing his attention back to him. 

"Time to go then," the leader repeated, looking down at Rice. He appeared to be of average height and stocky build but it was hard to see his features with the way his helmet light cast shadows over his face. He had deliberately angled it to shine in Rice's eyes. That was good right? That they were still trying to avoid being seen by him? 

"There's no use trying to escape, you're in our mine, about half a kilometre underground, and there are tunnels going in all directions. Better hope your friends who took our silver are prepared to return it before you die down here," he added brutally.  

He turned to leave, gesturing for the other two men to go ahead of him.  

It dawned on Rice that when they left he would be in total darkness. Alone in the dark, half a kilometre under the ground, unable to move or call for help.  

His eyes flared wildly but the tape prevented him from protesting even if he had though it would do any good. He was going to die down here. How long could he survive down here without water? Food he could do without if he had to, for up to several weeks, but water was another matter entirely.  

The Patrol would never agree to return the silver and even if by some miracle they did, it was not likely to be in the next few days. Nor was he certain his kidnappers would be able to honour their part of the bargain even if they wanted to, he hadn't liked that doubt they expressed about finding him again.  

He twisted furiously against his bonds, maybe if he could get loose fast enough he could follow the men, while he could still hear them.  

Then he made himself stop, shuddering with the effort, sweat beading on his forehead. He knew that fighting the bonds was only going to tighten them, he needed to relax his muscles and work slowly and patiently, one step at a time. 

He was going to die down here.