Slave Mind

by Rob Dearsley

  A moment’s hesitation was all it took, another guard grabbed her, pulling her off the young man. She twisted in his grip, driving backwards with all her strength. He tripped, and they went down in a tangle of limbs. Peripherally, she could hear more gunfire and cries of pain as Hale and Simon exchanged fire with the remaining guards.

  Arland kept her momentum going, rolling off the guard. She’d lost her gun somewhere along the way, but that didn’t matter. The smoke was clearing now, she could see Hale and Simon crouched side by side, picking off targets. They were against four guards, who were using the bodies of their companions as cover.

  She kept moving, meaning to sweep up the gun of another dead guard. His mangled body lay right beneath where they had breached the ceiling. But, the guard she’d been scrapping with caught her first, yanking her back by her hair. She fell back with a cry of pain.

  The cry caught Hale’s attention, she turned to face them, bringing her rifle to bear against the man holding Arland. Another guard took advantage of the distraction, lining up the perfect shot.

  “Look out!” Arland cried.

  The guard fired, and Hale turned at exactly the same moment, throwing the shot off. What would otherwise have been a headshot slammed into the Terran’s shoulder, spinning her around and sending her sprawling. Arland pulled away, but another, painfully hard tug on her hair kept her down.

  “That’s enough of that.” The piping on the guard’s uniform marked him as a team leader. “You can put your gun down.” The last was addressed to Simon who crouched over Hale’s still body. Was she—? Arland couldn’t even think it. She couldn’t be, she’d seen the Terran take more punishment than that and keep going.

  Simon stood slowly. The four remaining guards tracked him with their weapons. He laid his rifle down and stepped away from it, toward the cracked control screen.

  “Good, and now backup’s here, we’ll be takin’ you down to the holding cells.”

  Arland turned to see a Spook striding down the hallway at the head of a phalanx of guards, all armed with high-tech looking rifles.

  As the Spook approached the lift door, he misstepped slightly, an odd, alien look coming across his face for a moment. When he continued, Arland could have sworn his gait had changed subtly. That, coupled with the cant of his head and an odd look in his eyes, made him look like a different person. Someone she recognised, although she couldn’t place where from.

  The Spook stepped over the threshold into the lift a pace ahead of the guards. The doors slammed shut, cutting off the surprised guards and knocking the Spook into the room as the lift shot upward. Hale rolled up onto her side, her weapon barking. Two of the guards covering them tumbled backwards, blood blossoming on their uniforms.

  Arland felt the leader’s grip on her hair relax. She pulled forward, twisting from his grip and lashing out. Her blow knocked the air from his lungs. As he doubled over, she grabbed his weapon arm, twisting it viciously, feeling the bones snap beneath her grip.

  The leader cried out in pain, dropping the gun. Arland caught it before it hit the ground and fired, cutting off his moans.

  Arland turned her gun on the Spook. He had his pistol out and pointed at her. She didn’t have time to think, just dive forward as the Spook’s weapon – the same one she’d seen them use at the spaceport – puffed. The shot went high, over her head.

  She heard a moan and turned to see the young guard crumple to the floor.

  “Arland?” Hale called.

  “Still here,” she replied, pulling herself to her feet and keeping a wary distance from the Spook.

  “Put the gun down.” Simon aimed one of the guard’s rifles at the Spook. Off to the other side, Hale had a gun pointed at him as well.

  Arland glanced around the room, all the guards were dead. She returned her stare to the Spook. He had dropped his pistol. Keeping her eyes and gun on the Spook, she crept forward to snatch up the weapon.

  “Shauna?” The Spook looked down at her, that familiarity struck her again. The eyes and the voice were different but there was something behind them. The cadence of the voice, the light behind those eyes. She knew them.

  Slowly backing away and shoving his gun into her belt, she eyed the Spook. “Who are you?”

  “You know me, shorty,” the Spook said, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Did she? There was something, the tilt of the head, the way he held himself. She’d recognise military posture anywhere.

  “Maddix?” He was the only one who had ever called her shorty.

  He nodded.

  “How?” Her mind reeled. She’d seen him die. Stars, she’d killed him, and now he was here. Or was this just some kind of trick? Had this person just studied Maddix’s mannerisms to gain her trust?

  “It’s complicated.” He gave her that slight half-smile Maddix always used when he was holding something back. She arched an eyebrow in response. “I’m not entirely sure myself and we don’t have the time.”

  Arland shook her head, trying to focus. “How do I know you are Maddix?”

  “Remember after Carrianite IV? We got drunk, everyone got tattoos, you got a dove on your back.”

  “So,” Arland countered. “Still doesn’t prove you’re Maddix.”

  “Nothing I say is going to be enough for you.” She could hear the frustration in his voice. “Let it be enough that I’m on your side.”

  “What do you want?” Hale asked.

  “I need you to stop them. You saw the transmission? The file?”

  “Someone’s known about the Terrans for years and done nothing to stop them.” Arland’s anger rose at the thought.

  The Spook, Maddix, turned back to Arland, anger lighting in his eyes. “They did everything to stop them. It’s just not enough.” The force, the raw emotion behind the words made Arland flinch. “They tried and tried, but they can only see one way out. Now they want to join them.” The last was little more than a whisper.

  “What do you mean?” Hale asked.

  Maddix flinched, his features contorting for a moment. “Damn, I’m losing control. Find the Binary Core. Pyrite.” He swayed, clutching his head. “You need to shoot me before I’m locked out and the Spook regains control.” Arland was shocked and appalled. Her mind flashed back to the last time he’d begged her to shoot him. “Use the Spook’s gun, it’s a stunner pistol, it’ll put him out for—” Maddix dropped to his knees, hands clutching at his head. He looked back up at Arland, eyes pleading. It was the same look he’d given her on Augite III. It was him, there was no doubt in her mind now.

  She pulled out the stun gun and shot him, right between the eyes.

  Simon’s voice pulled her attention. “Guys, the doors?”

  Both Arland and Hale looked over as the lift doors opened into a short antechamber. Lights flickered on as Simon led out. Arland’s gaze tripped around the small chamber. A bank of environment suits to their right, non-descript lockers to their left and a set of large doors set into the far wall.

  Arland was last out of the lift, the doors closing just behind her, knocking her forward. She caught herself bouncing off the floor. The gravity had dropped off, they must be out of the cold zone.

  With a soft grunt of effort, Hale forced the doors far enough open for them to squeeze through.

  The door led out into a shallow crater. This one much smaller than the one with the base in. Probably only a couple of hundred metres across at its artificially flattened base. Darkened navigation lights marked it as a hidden landing pad. They were out.

  Relief flowed through Arland. They could call the Jean-Luke’s shuttle in and get out of there. She turned to Simon, he’d had the long-range transmitter in his pack. “Call the shuttle.”

  The ex-Marine reached around for his pack and blanched. “I dropped it on the top of the lift.”

  Arland cursed inwardly. They’d been so close. They had everything they’d come for. They’d escaped the Spook facility. This was supposed to be the easy part.

  �
��We need a way of contacting the shuttle.” Hale scanned the landing pad. There was no equipment, if they weren’t right on top of it, they’d never have even spotted the landing pad.

  “Maybe there’s something back at the old base?” Arland suggested. “And we need to get out of here before the guards make it up.”

  Arland crouched on the edge of the landing pad, covering the door with her newly borrowed rifle. Above her, Hale and Simon scrambled up the side of the crater, dust and small rocks tumbling in their wakes.

  “We’re up,” Hale called. “We’ve got you covered.”

  Slinging her rifle across her shoulders, Arland turned and started her own scramble up the loose scree. At first, it was easy, but the further she got, the steeper the side became and the more traitorous the climb.

  “Hurry,” Hale’s voice held a sense of urgency. “I can see someone trying to get the door open.”

  Arland grabbed a rock above her and pulled herself up. The rock came loose, tumbling past her. Only the low gravity saved her from a nasty fall, leaving her swinging from her other arm. As she reached for another handhold, Arland felt the rock under her right-hand shift.

  She was going to fall.

  If she tumbled down the side now, would she be able to get her gun up in time to take out the guards? Arland’s fingers grazed another rock. So close. Her handhold shifted again, raining dust down into her eyes.

  Now or never. She lunged for the protrusion above her. The rock under her right hand gave, falling away, but her left hand closed on another handhold. It held. She pulled herself higher, within reach of Hale’s outstretched hand.

  “Come on,” Simon urged them.

  Hale grabbed Arland’s hand and, without pausing, bodily hauled her up and out of the crater, and out of sight of the door.

  “Over there.” Simon pointed to where the towers and masts of the abandoned base peaked above the lunar landscape.

  ◊◊

  Again, Arland found herself a good vantage point to set up a sniper’s nest, while the others hurried toward the old facility. The scope on the Spook rifle didn’t have the zoom of her lost sniper, but it did have thermal and backscatter imaging. Considering the lack of readings she’d gotten before, that might not do her much good. Movement caught her attention and she snapped the scope back.

  “Guys,” she hissed into the open com-line. “Got movement in the building. Southeast of you, one-fifty metres out. Use the northern entrance.”

  She split her attention between tracking the heat signatures and following Hale and Simon’s progress. The guards – what else could they be – were following the line of the outer wall, just inside the building, walking the perimeter. Hale and Simon’s entry point was clear of them, for now at least.

  Hale and Simon’s signatures dimmed as they entered the abandoned building.

  “I feel like we’ve done this part before,” Simon quipped.

  “Stay sharp,” Arland snapped. “You’re not alone in there.”

  The guards turned down the nearside of the building. They’d be at the hatch Hale and Simon had used in less than a minute.

  Her companions continued to move deeper into the facility, their head signatures dimming.

  “Watch your six.” Arland shifted, keeping both groups in her line of sight. The guards stopped by the entrance. “Did you leave the hatch open?”

  Neither of the others replied.

  “Well, they know you’re here now.”

  Arland hoped the guards would split up to search the area, but the pair stayed together, moving deeper into the facility after Hale and Simon.

  “Got something,” Hale said. “Looks like a traffic management room. It should have some communications equipment.”

  The heat-blooms of the guards continued further into the facility but had turned down another corridor, heading away from the traffic control room and Arland’s companions.

  Something on the edge of her vision caught her attention and Arland whipped the scope across the facility. Four more heat signatures came out of the cold zone, heading for the centre of the facility, where Simon and Hale were working.

  “More hostiles. Coming in from the west.”

  “Copy that,” came Hale’s reply. “We’re powering up the consoles now.”

  EM signatures popped up around Hale and Simon as the equipment powered up.

  The guards were closer now. They couldn’t be more than a couple minutes away. She silently urged the others to work faster. Her heart hammered. She shook out her hands and focused on her breathing, trying to dampen the rush of adrenaline.

  Hale and Simon were too far into the building for even the high-powered sniper rounds to reach them. All she could do was watch and wait.

  “Got it.” Hale’s voice made Arland start. “SDF shuttle is picking us up from your location.”

  The guards were right outside the door. Arland racked her memories of the station plans. “The guards are just outside. There’s a maintenance shaft on the east side of the room. It should take you to the roof.”

  “Got it.” Hale’s reply was followed by a grunt of effort and the squealing of metal, and Hale and Simon started to ascend. Seconds later, the guards barrelled into the coms room.

  Arland flicked her sights back to standard as the others climbed out onto the station’s roof, below the large communications dish. The sight of her friends, safe, was a massive weight lifted from his shoulders.

  The shuttle’s thrusters beat down on Arland as the backwash whipped dust up around her.

  A moment later the back end of an SDF shuttle resolved from the dust cloud.

  “Where are the others?” the pilot’s voice came over Arland’s com.

  “On the station roof.” Arland pointed, before realising the pilot couldn’t see her, then jumped into the back of the shuttle as it rose up into the night.

  “Looks like your friends have company,” the pilot said over the intercom.

  The shuttle swung around to give Arland a view out of the open access hatch. She reached out to steady herself against the door’s hydraulics. Hale and Simon ran across the roof, looking for cover as guards in heavy combat armour climbed out of the access hatch.

  “Keep it steady,” Arland ordered the pilot, dropping to one knee on the open access ramp and raising the rifle.

  Arland took a beat to focus and steady her breathing as she lined up on the guard. She let out a small breath and squeezed the trigger.

  The high-velocity round snapped the guard’s head back and he was dead before he hit the ground.

  More guards climbed out onto the roof as the shuttle set down. Arland snapped off a pair of shots, dropping another man. Hale and Simon jumped up onto the ramp.

  “Go!” Arland hit the close switch for the doors backing into the small troop compartment. With a rush of acceleration, the shuttle rose away from the moon.

  ◊◊

  Sat in the back of the old drop ship, Arland’s thoughts turned inward.

  Maddix was alive. Well, sort of. The Spooks had uploaded him into their computer systems. But why? Was that what they were trying to do? Or had it been an accident, some side effect of her killing him? They knew a lot more than when they’d started for sure, but all they ever seemed to get were more questions. She wanted some answers, damn it. Maddix had said Pyrite. She’d heard of the system but had never been there, wasn’t even sure where it was. That was where they’d find their answers, she was sure of it.

  Maybe, they’d even be able to save Maddix and she could make up for Augite III.

  The shuttle jolted, pulling her from her musings.

  “What’s going on?” Simon asked the intercom.

  “Refugee traffic is filling the system. Hang on. There’s a bulletin. I’m patching it through.”

  The pilot’s voice was replaced by the stiff narration of an official announcer. “All refugee traffic from Calcite system, please form an orderly queue in grid three-five-one. Scheduled system traffic, continue on
your official flight path, landing priority will be given to medical emergencies and perishable goods. We ask that all pilots bear with us during this time.” The message began to repeat, and their pilot cut it off.

  Calcite. Damn. The Terrans were on the move again.

  Fifteen

  - Topaz IIa -

  Dannage looked up at the grey, end-of-terrace house. He’d left the pub like a man on a mission. But now he was here, actually looking at the peeling red paint on the front door, his resolve faltered. No one should have to deliver news like this, least of all him. There should be some government type to do it. Heck, she’d worked for the government. Where were those bureaucratic muppets when he needed one?

  The darkening sky reflected Dannage’s mood. Finally, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, and rapped on the door.

  “Michael, what are you doing here?” His mother hadn’t changed since the last time he’d seen her. Stars, that must have been nearly thirteen years ago. Some part of him wondered if children ever see the signs of ageing in their parents. He wanted to latch onto that, any sort of distraction from what was to come. What he had to do.

  He’d committed himself now.

  “Boy?” Behind his mother, his dad filled the doorway. He was a big man, big in every way. Dannage’s earliest memories were of being loomed over by the mountain of a man.

  “Dad, Mum…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. No, he knew what needed to be said, but he didn’t have the words. How did you tell someone news like this?

  Hey Mum, Dad. Sam’s dead. Or, guys I think you should sit down. It’s Sam…

  His mother’s face crumpled slightly as she met his eyes. “Come in dear.”

  He nodded thanks and allowed himself to be led into the house. As he crossed the threshold he was assaulted by sense memory. Every step on the scratchy, worn carpet, the scents of baking from the kitchen, the crackle of the open fire from the front room. It all came with a childhood memory. Him and Sam opening Christmas presents in front of the fire, fighting over the TV, or the last cupcake. Her sitting with him in the night after he’d had a nightmare or consoling him after another failed romance. Him bringing her ice cream after she’d been picked on in school. Her tending the scrapes on his face after he’d confronted the bullies.