by T. R. Harris
“You will be detained until we receive instructions from our superiors,” said six-arms.
The alien followed Coop’s line of sight to the shiny, slightly larger-than-normal handguns the guards carried. “I see you have noticed the MK-88X. We at Maris-Kliss are very proud of our latest line of bolt launchers.” The alien beamed with pride, as if he was at a trade-show convention and showing off his company’s latest gizmo. All Copernicus wanted to know was if it could kill a Human with a single bolt?
The alien answered the question as if he had read Coop’s mind. “The ’88 was designed specifically with Humans in mind. It has been known for some time that your species has a resistance to level-two bolts, and even level-one is mostly non-lethal unless the subject is struck in a vulnerable area of the body. You are also mostly immune to the electrical effects from a conventional bolt. Because of this, we have developed this prototype weapon that addresses those concerns.”
Six-arms stopped suddenly and looked at his partner with wide-eyed excitement.
“I believe we have been presented with an excellent opportunity, to not only demonstrate the effectiveness of the ’88, but also to experiment.”
Two-arms picked up on the enthusiasm of the other alien. “Yes. And we can use the survivor to study the damaging effect of peripheral hits to the body, to discover how long and how well a subject can withstand the bolt intensity.”
“Excellent.”
While the aliens were talking, Copernicus was busy using his ATD to probe the inner workings of the new MK-88X. Although he wasn’t a master with the Formilian brain-interface device, the process of disabling flash weapons was something he’d paid particular attention to during the training sessions with Adam Cain and his team. He was the least-experienced with the device, but he was learning.
He was also relieved to find, that although MK had upgraded the output of the weapon, they hadn’t changed any of the basic internal components. There was still a firing circuit which he could sever. There was also a battery feed line, that if blocked while the weapon was being fired, could turn the handgun into a small grenade against the user.
He wasn’t worried and tried to convey that to Sherri with his expression. Although her ATD was broken, she was thinking the same thing. She knew what ATDs could do to flash weapons. She got the message.
“Take this pair to the medical bay and lock them a quarantine room,” two-arms said.
Sherri and Copernicus stood up, doing nothing to resist. They had to plan their escape carefully, rather than fly off the handle. However, if the aliens were planning on using them for target practice right away…that would be another matter.
61
Copernicus was busy surveying the ship’s electrical components as the Humans were marched to the sickbay. The Rigorian kept poking him in the ribs, just for the fun of it. It was becoming annoying. When they reached the department, they were placed in a room with a secure lock on the door and a large window along one wall where medical personnel could observe the patient—or patients—inside. They weren’t patients—rather prisoners—so the medical crew paid them no attention. The guards, on the other hand, remained outside and on station. Coop could swear the expression on the huge lizard-like Rigorian was one of anticipation. He seemed anxious to test out his new-fangled flash weapon on the Humans. Copernicus smiled. He would be sorely disappointed if he tried.
Sherri wrapped Coop in her arms, feigning distress, while whispering in his ear in case they were being monitored.
“Do you have the controls identified?”
“Yep. The door, the weapons…I even have the electric cart with the DMC being tracked.”
“Great job.” She bit his earlobe. “I knew you had it in you. Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah: Get out of here and kill every alien in sight.”
“Now you sound like Adam.”
“That hurt.”
“Don’t knock it; it’s been effective in the past. But this time I think we need something a little more subtle.”
Coop snuggled against her. “What do you have in mind, baby?”
“Do you know where the engine room is aboard this tub?”
“I got your engine right here….”
“Get serious!”
“Yeah, I can find it with the ATD. There are a lot of unique signals I can trace.”
“Good. This is what we’re going to do—and not that!”
To their surprise—and relief—the cart with the DMC was near the sickbay. Medical facilities were normally located amidships, being the most secure part of the ship in case of attack. The white suits were being careful with the dark matter collector, keeping it as far from the gravity generators at the stern and the complex focusing rings forward and on the short wings. That placed the valuable cargo only steps from where they were being held prisoner.
The motor on the electric cart wasn’t only controlled by a Formilian-designed module, it was also robotic and able to follow wires embedded in the deck to move about the ship on command. Coop took control of the cart and set it in motion, having to open a door to remove it from the room it was in. If anyone was in the room with it they would assume it was transporting the contents to another part of the ship by command of higher ups.
Next he leaned nonchalantly against the wall near the door. Sherri stood at the end of the hospital bed, facing the door. Coop tripped the lock with his ATD. When the panel suddenly slid open, it was so quiet that the guards didn’t notice. Coop slipped around the corner and planted a flat-handed chop across the throat of the unknown species of guard, sending him crumbling to the deck. Sherri sprang from the room and turned the other way, catching the Rigorian by surprise. She pinned the huge body against the wall while Coop pulled the MK-88X from the alien’s holster.
“I believe you were anxious to test out your new weapon,” Coop said to him, pressing the barrel hard against the bottom of the alien’s long, tooth-lined snout. “Let me help.” He pulled the trigger.
“Dammit, you jerk!” Sherri yelled, now covered in warm Rigorian blood. “That wasn’t cool.”
The small medical staff was in shock and froze when Copernicus turned the weapon on them. He motioned the four aliens inside the quarantine room, but not before telling two of them to strip and turn over their tailored uniforms to the Humans. Then he disabled the internal comm box and shut the door, locking the menagerie of aliens inside.
Sherri and Coop hurriedly dressed in the uniforms—after washing Rigorian blood from their faces—and then ran into the outer corridor just as the cart was passing by. Copernicus took the satchel and rushed ahead of Sherri and the cart, along a passageway toward the aft end of the ship. Sherri and the cart followed the same path, but to the landing bay and the stolen Gracilian starship.
The uniforms helped, and no one paid them any attention. Coop wouldn’t be surprised to learn that a few Humans worked for Maris-Kliss, the company was that huge and all-encompassing. In what capacity they would serve, he had no idea. Possibly weapons designers. Humans weren’t known for their loyalty to their race.
Copernicus reached the main engine room and entered; the satchel draped over his shoulder. He came in like he owned the place and moved immediately to the confluence of two huge generators. There were eight in the room, which to his amazement, were each spotless and mostly automated. Two workers took notice of him and approached.
“You are not of the engineering crew,” one said. “What is your purpose here?”
“I’ve come to disable the generators so my associate and I can escape from your ship and you can’t follow.” The aliens stopped and stared at him, their tiny brains working overtime to decipher the statement. The translation device spoke the words, they just didn’t make sense.
When Coop swung the satchel off his shoulder and into the head of one of the aliens—while following with a swift kick to the midsection of the other—they got the message. Coop sat the satchel on the deck while he hid the bodies behind one of th
e generators.
Then he moved behind the generators and took out one of the carrying cases with the gray, dark matter cubes. He didn’t know how many it would take to disrupt the gravity drive of the huge ship, so he removed five and placed them behind various structural components. He’d seen the Gracilians handle them barehanded, so he wasn’t worried. What bothered him, however, was when he moved one of the cubes too close to another they both began to vibrate. After that, he kept them separated and spread over a ten-foot section of the generator. The dark matter cubes had never been this close to critical engine parts aboard the Gracilian starship, and yet they still affected the formation of gravity-wells. He hoped that by placing them directly on the generator it would really mess up the works within the MK vessel.
When he was done, he closed the lid on the container and put it back in the satchel. No one else had entered the room so he exited quickly and turned left toward the landing bay.
The small electric cart had obediently followed its programming and rolled onto the latticed metal decking of the landing bay. Coop wasn’t sure exactly where the Gracilian ship was within the huge chamber, so he had the cart stop when it entered. Sherri would have to push it the rest of the way.
To her consternation, she found the wheels were locked. So, she hefted the suitcase-sized DMC off the cart and carried it to the small starship.
There were about a dozen smaller craft in the bay, all MK vessels, shiny and new. She was almost tempted to take one of them but figured the controls would be unfamiliar and the ships might have locators in them. So, she activated the side hatch on the smaller, older spacecraft and lugged the DMC inside.
“Are you authorized entry?” asked a voice from behind.
She turned to see a female crewmember with light red skin and a hairless scalp standing in the hatchway. There was no doubt the alien was female by the two rows of four teats each pressing out from her uniform.
“Yes, I am. I have been ordered to place this module inside the ship. Would you help me?”
The alien hesitated a moment before stepping inside the ship. She took the back end of the DMC while Sherri took the front. They carried it past the inner airlock door and then to the left, toward the ship’s midsection.
“It smells in here. How disgusting,” said the helpful alien. “I do not recognize you. What is your function here?”
They set the collector on the deck while the female crewmember took a look around the dirty, unfamiliar interior. Coop and Sherri hadn’t paid too much attention to housekeeping during their eighteen-day transit. The place was a mess…and it did smell.
“I’m a whoop-ass specialist,” Sherri answered.
“Whoop-ass specialist?” the female asked without turning. “What is that?”
A moment later, the alien was laid out on the deck, her neck snapped by Sherri’s quick twist of her bald head.
“That is a whoop-ass specialist, sweetie.”
Copernicus entered the ship a moment later and almost tripped over the dead alien. “A friend of yours?”
“We went to high school together. She stole my boyfriend.”
“Be sure to remind me never to steal a boyfriend from you.”
“As if you could.”
Coop handed her the satchel. “Put this at the center of the ship on the starboard side, away from the engines and focusing rings. I’ll take the collector and do the same, but to port. I don’t want a concentration of dark matter close to each other. They act weird when they get close.”
“So do we.”
“That’s your fault, not mine. I’m perfect just the way I am.”
They were in the pilothouse, ready to fire up the chem drive of the small starship. The problem was that the landing bay was still pressurized and the doorway had safety protocols that protected against premature opening. Copernicus scanned the controls with his brain-interface device until he found what he was looking for. It was the fire alarm.
He tripped the controller and a loud bleeping filled the chamber, echoing loudly off the metal walls. He activated the door controls.
In the case of a fire in the bay, the safety measures could be overridden, using the cold vacuum of space and the rapid depressurization to snuff out the fire. It was expected the crew would have evacuated the room by then. In this case they hadn’t.
As the double doors began to separate, a powerful steam of air escaped, taking with it flailing bodies and unsecured crates and barrels. As it widened, even a few small starships were sucked out.
Coop fired the engines, spinning the Gracilian ship a hundred and eighty degrees and toward the widening exit. When he was lined up, he gunned the jets.
The abrupt change from gravity to no gravity was gut-wrenching, but the Humans were expecting it. The tiny ship sped away, catching the Maris-Kliss bridge crew by surprise. No plasma bolts followed them before Copernicus could establish a deep gravity-well and jump.
To their relief, the well formed immediately, even though it did sputter for a moment. But then it stabilized, stronger than they’d seen it since leaving the research station. Spreading the dark matter items apart and away from critical systems was doing the trick. Now they waited to see if their sabotage job on the MK ship was going to work. They would know any moment. The huge company ship was a lot faster than they were.
The white suits were in an executive suite aboard the starship, planning their experiments with the Humans, when the call came through about a fire in the landing bay. By the time they reacted, the report had been modified to include the escape of the Gracilian ship. The aliens knew the significance of the report. They called a security detail to locate the dark matter components, already anticipating the answer. If the Humans could so effortlessly escape the huge starship, then they would be fully capable of recovering the dark matter collector and cubes before doing so.
A moment later their suspicions were confirmed. They ordered an immediate pursuit.
They waited to feel the tell-tale sign of the ship entering a gravity-well, when suddenly the internal gravity failed instead. The pair grabbed onto the edges of their seats to keep from floating away. Then the comm sounded. The engines were malfunctioning. Gravity wells could not be created. Emergency crews were working on the problem.
The suits knew the problem, even if the crew didn’t. They ordered a search of the engine compartments, with special attention paid to any foreign objects they should fine. None were to be touched until the bigwigs showed up to supervise the removal.
The starship would be operational soon and in pursuit of the Humans. It was a good chance they would not continue to Navior; that was where MK had expected them to go initially. They would select a secondary location. That would be the smart move.
However, what worried the MK reps the most was that the Humans would undoubtedly attempt to sell the dark matter device to others. The female had mentioned that intent. The suits knew there were more buyers. That was why they acted first—and proactively—by having the device stolen from the Gracilians. But their supervisors would not be happy with this turn of events. The white suits would return to a local MK facility to await instructions. The vast network of company contacts would locate the Humans. And then they would react.
Humans! Damn Humans!
62
Even with the gravity drive working, it still took Sherri and Copernicus three days to reach the planet Navior, all the while looking over their shoulders for any sign of an approaching MK starship. They were both confused and relieved when no following signal was detected. Where did they go? The white suits knew Navior was their destination. And with a marginally operational starship and a cargo of valuable dark matter paraphernalia, it made sense that they would want to unload the hot commodity as soon as possible. Navior was the only planet in the area where that could happen.
Sherri and Copernicus were exhausted by the time they shut down the engines of their stolen starship in a spaceport outside the city of Prannis. Bowing to Sherri’s ca
utious nature, the city was on the opposite side of the planet from the main concentration of Cartel activity, just in case some of Coop’s old buddies were still hanging around.
The gravity on Navior was lighter than that of the starship and the air thinner, yet rich in oxygen. As a result, they had an extra spring in their steps, in spite of their weariness. As they prepared to exit the ship, each wore an MK-17 flash weapon. Everyone on Navior was armed. They would look out of place if they weren’t as well. And even though they had two of the fancy new MK-88X weapons, they left them on the ship. They would attract too much attention. Their trusty ’17s would have to do.
The plan was to find a CW café and make calls to the other four buyers who had been interested in the dark matter collector. Sherri had found their names and contact coordinates while hacking the Gracilian computers. This was after they’d already accepted the contract from Maris-Kliss. Now she had the links in a datapad, ready to cut another—and possibly—better deal.
Before leaving the ship to go in search of a CW communications facility, they scrounged together all the money they could find. It wasn’t much. Sherri was unemployed and Copernicus had only received one paycheck since arriving on the research station as their full-time gravity drive mechanic. Before that, times had even been worse.
After all their bank accounts on Earth were seized, the pair was left with no reserves and barely enough to keep a roof over their heads. Sherri had no marketable skills, having never finished her studies to become a veterinarian. And how could she? She had been abducted by the alien Klin twenty years ago and cast into a strange galaxy to fend for herself. After that she’d spent time as an alien assassin and then as an on-again, off-again member of Adam’s intergalactic team of troubleshooters and reluctant heroes. At one point, she took a break from traveling the stars and married a real estate broker from San Francisco’s South Bay area. But she grew restless and ran off once again to join Adam’s wild circus.