Stepping forward, a light burst on around him and Jack found himself face to face with a pair of Fleet Intelligence enforcers. They raised their pulse rifles.
He came to a stumbling halt, cursing himself for charging in. He should have guessed Sam would be under guard.
“Surrender your weapons, Forge,” Special Agent Mallet said from behind the pair of enforcers. She was barely visible, her black uniform hiding her in the shadows.
Jack handed his pulse rifle to one enforcer. He unclipped the pulse pistol from its holster and handed it to the other. Then Mallet stepped out from behind the enforcers and stood in front of Jack.
“I’ll take you back into custody, Forge. Attempting to escape. Attempting to release a sci division subject. Your list of crimes is growing longer by the hour.”
Mallet tossed a set of manacles toward Jack. They automatically wound around Jack’s wrist and held his hands together.
“It’s my duty to see you don’t commit any more crimes.” She walked toward the open workshop door and with a flick of her wrist, she drew the manacles to follow. The manacles pulled Jack along.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he looked at Sam in the pool of light. He looked exhausted. Jack wondered if they would ever stand side by side again.
5
Riya pulled her sister along the smooth, curved corridor of the civilian transport. She had no idea where she was going, but her father always told her it was harder to hit a moving target. For as long as she had strength and breath, Riya would run.
“You’re hurting me,” Bren complained. “We should have stayed in the cabin. I don’t want to go running around this kravin ship.”
Riya tugged her sister toward the transport loop access, repeatedly pressing the call button.
“Stop complaining and save your breath,” Riya said, looking at the transport display.
Bren pulled free and leaned against the side of the hatch. She looked at her sister with that defiant look that reminded Riya of her father.
“I want a drink,” Bren said. Her top lip curled.
“Stop talking and you won’t feel so thirsty.” Riya tapped the call button again.
“I’m not thirsty,” Bren said. “I just want a kravin drink. If we’re going to die, I’d rather not be sober.”
Riya looked at the transport loop access. She knew it would not open. A crowd of panicking passengers came rushing toward the access, threatening to crush Riya and Bren. Riya grabbed her sister by the wrist and pulled her to the side letting the crowd rush forward.
The transport loop door opened, and fifty panicked passengers tried to squeeze into the pod.
“This way,” Riya said, tugging Bren along. She moved off at pace.
Riya had always been stronger, but only because Bren had always been so lazy. Although they were so alike and often confused for one another, they knew how truly different they were. But Riya also wanted a drink right now. Sometimes she had to concede she was more like her sister than she would like to admit.
The sounds of panic echoed along the corridor from every direction. Riya ran down a stairway and found herself outside a medical facility. The facility was dark. The clear composite doors open, one of the sliding doors bent slightly, preventing the doors from closing properly.
“Inside,” Riya said, pushing Bren toward the opening.
“It’s dark,” Bren said. Fear was starting to make her lose her composure and her voice wobbled on the verge of tears, but even now, she was still brutally defiant. “I’m not going in there.”
“Yes, you are,” Riya said, pushing Bren hard. “We’ve got to keep hidden and look after ourselves.”
And as Riya and Bren stared in through the partially open door, into the darkness of the med-bay, a sudden crunching and banging sound echoed through the ship, shaking the deck plates beneath their feet. The noise was terrible and continued to rise in volume. Equipment in the dark bay rattled, some pieces crashing to the floor as the quaking continued. Bren covered her ears and crouched close to the deck.
A Devex warship had captured the civilian transport and the puncture arms were smashing through the hull.
“We can hide in here,” Riya said. “We’ll be safe.” But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.
Bren squeezed through the gap and waited for her sister to join her. The med-bay was lit only by small strip lights around a few bunks, a light at the far end blinking on and off at irregular intervals that made Riya feel dizzy. Maybe it was the stress of looking after her sister, the effort of running through the massive ship, or maybe it was fear. Everyone aboard had heard about the Devex warships by now. Everyone knew what was coming. Captivity. Slavery. Or maybe death.
“They’ll try and put us all asleep,” Riya said. She ran into the dark with her sister dragged behind. A set of cabinets were sealed shut. There had been an attempt to open them by force. An attempt that had failed. Riya held the wrist device her father had given her to the door, and it clicked open.
Inside were stacks of med-packs. Riya pulled them out frantically. They fell to the floor at her feet. Not finding what she was looking for, Riya went to another cabinet. More equipment and amongst it a small, clear facemask with a small canister of super-compressed air. A small block of solid air that would slowly evaporate and give a supply of breathable air for hours.
Riya held the mask out to her sister.
“You like getting all dressed up,” Riya said.
Bren snatched the mask with a grunt.
Riya opened the next cabinet where she found another mask. She pulled it on.
Bren looked at Riya, her broad smile shining through the mask.
“You look like the old house drone,” Bren said. She was smiling and laughing even though her cheeks were wet with tears.
Riya moved in a mechanical way and repeated the old phrase their house drones used to say.
“Your room is a mess, miss.”
Bren laughed.
Then the captain’s voice came over a ship-wide address.
“This is the captain. Dox vapor detected. The emergency safe zone is in the ship’s core, in the central arena. All passengers make your way...”
The message ended.
Bren looked up, expecting the message to resume. She hoped for some news that would let her know she would be safe.
Riya tugged her sister’s hand.
“We have to go.”
“To the arena?” Bren said, still looking up and listening for the rest of the captain’s message.
Riya shook her head. “We’re not going to the central arena. We must keep moving.”
“I’m tired,” Bren said. She leaned against a med-bunk. “And I want a drink.”
Riya picked through some of the med-packs on the ground. She found a hydration pack and gave it to Bren.
“Suck on that,” Riya said.
Bren snatched the hydration pack.
“Oh great, water,” she said sarcastically. And just as she took a sip, a blast of pulse rifle fire smashed the door. The clear composite fell in chunks, tinkling over the deck.
Riya looked and saw a Marine in full tactical gear, armed with a pulse rifle. The Marine came stepping into the bay.
“A soldier,” Bren said. “He can take us to our father.”
Riya called out to the Marine who was walking into the dark facility.
“Marine. What’s going on out there?”
Just as Riya finished talking, the Marine swung up his rifle, aimed it at Riya, and fired.
Riya pulled Bren down behind a bunk as the pulse rounds smashed the cabinets above their heads. Fragments of cabinet rained down over them.
“Hold your fire,” Riya shouted. She heard her father’s voice in hers as she gave the confident command.
She looked up and saw the Marine walking toward them, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Help us find somewhere safe,” Riya said. She stood up and stepped in front of the fast-moving Marine.
“Out of my w
ay, civilian,” the Marine said and pushed his way past Riya. In the darkness and with med-packs scattered over the ground, Riya lost her footing and fell backward. She landed on her sister, who cried out in anger more than pain.
“Hey. You,” Riya said, struggling to climb up. Then she heard the heavy footsteps in the corridor. The bay lit up as a stream of fierce white energy bullets slammed into the Marine, who was running away.
The Devex bullets flung the Marine forward. He dropped his pulse rifle as he fell.
The rifle skidded across the deck toward Riya. She looked at the familiar weapon. She had seen enough of them growing up but had never wanted to handle one. It was not her idea of fun.
She looked to the door as a Devex warrior smashed the remaining composite aside and stepped in. The Devex warrior walked forward cautiously, its blaster aimed at the fallen Marine.
The Marine rolled over on to his back, pulse pistol in hand. The Marine fired a well-aimed shot at the Devex warrior’s faceplate. The Devex’s head snapped back as the pulse rounds hit, but it still fired its blaster. A stream of energy bullets raked the prone Marine, the force pushing the Marine backward. His hands fell to his sides as the pulse pistol fell to the deck.
Riya looked at her sister and pressed her finger to her lips. Bren covered her mouth, tears streaming again. She sobbed silently, her hand stifling the sounds of her crying. Tears and snot ran over the back of her hand.
Riya looked underneath a bunk at the Devex warrior who was approaching cautiously, placing one foot slowly and carefully in front of the other.
Riya put her hand on the pulse rifle. It had fallen to point at the Devex. If she must, she would use the weapon and kill the Devex. She wasn’t going to let it capture her and her sister…although she was not sure if the pulse rifle would be any use against the Devex armor. The Marine’s pulse pistol rounds had done nothing.
The Devex came alongside where the girls were still hidden. Just as Riya thought it would fail to spot them, it turned its head in their direction.
Riya grabbed the pulse rifle and pointed it. She attempted to fire the weapon and shouted a guttural battle cry she had never heard come from herself before. Her sister also screamed fiercely.
The weapon did not fire.
The Devex reached down and grabbed the rifle barrel. Riya held on as it was tugged from her. She saw a button here, another button there. She pressed one hoping it was the firing mechanism. With a click, a telescopic sight popped up.
The Devex brought its hand back and made ready to deliver a stinging backhand blow to Riya’s face. Riya pressed another button. A pair of small support legs dropped from the front end of the rifle. The Devex warrior brought its hand down to strike Riya.
Riya frantically hit another button. A fine, fizzing blade leapt forward from the end of the rifle and traveled straight through the Devex armor. The Devex’s hand came around to deliver the blow but fell limp. The warrior toppled. Riya saw the electron blade sticking out the other side of the body.
She let go of the pulse rifle and let it fall with the Devex warrior.
“You hurt it?” Bren said in an accusatory tone.
Riya grabbed her sister. “Come on,” Riya said and rushed over to the fallen Marine.
“You killed it,” Bren said, looking back in shock at the fallen Devex warrior.
The Marine was motionless. Riya tried to remove the helmet but could not take it off.
“Is he okay?” Bren asked, standing behind Riya.
Riya grabbed the pulse pistol off the deck and ran deeper into the medical facility, toward the flickering light at the far end.
“Someone’s coming, Riya,” Bren said. “There, in the corridor. Is that another Devex?”
Riya turned and saw two Devex warriors standing in the medical facility doorway, silhouetted by the lights in the corridor outside.
A shimmering circular wave was growing out of a small device in one’s hand. Riya watched the wave and the colors shimmering as it grew in size and came ever closer. She raised the pulse pistol, her finger on the trigger. She fired. The pulse round struck the shimmering field, sending out a wave of colorful ripples.
The Devex stood still and watched.
The field crept forward. It was mesmerizing, patterns shimmering over its surface.
And then finally, the field came into contact with Riya. Even though it moved slowly, it hit like an iron meteor. The impact took her breath away. She felt its touch throughout her body. It was both hot and cold, both stinging and dull. Pain flooded over her. She fell to the ground, crumpled in a pitiful heap, shrinking away from pain that she could not escape. The last thing she heard was her sister’s agonized screams before everything went black.
6
Jack stood in front of Mallet, hands bound. His Marine shirt stripped of all rank and insignia. Special Agent Mallet sat behind a desk, two enforcers behind her.
She flicked through the holofile in front of her and then looked up at Jack.
“You stand accused of dereliction of duty, desertion, mutiny, piracy, and murder. With no further evidence forthcoming, it is my finding that you, Jack Forge, formerly of the Fleet Marines, are guilty on all charges.”
Mallet’s cold eyes fixed Jack.
“Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?”
Jack felt any comment would be fruitless. There was no one to hear him speak and only Mallet’s recording would make it to any higher authority, if it even went beyond this room. And anything he did say would no doubt be twisted in the same manner that Mallet had twisted every action he had taken during his career.
Standing tall and proud, Jack shook his head.
“Jack Forge, you are guilty. Under the authority of the Fleet Intelligence Agency, you are sentenced to death by firing squad. Sentence to be carried out immediately. Take him away.”
Feeling his legs weaken under him was marginally more horrific than hearing the death sentence passed over him. With determination not to appear distressed and to maintain his dignity, Jack somehow managed to stay on his feet.
Death?
He had faced it on the battlefield too many times to recall.
“Permission to address the court?” Jack said, steadying himself as the enforcers gripped his arms, making ready to lead him away.
Mallet looked up as she closed the holofile. Jack detected a hint of a smile.
“Go ahead, Forge,” Mallet said with a dismissive wave.
“Permission to die in my Marine jacket displaying my Marine platinum star.”
The platinum star was the service’s highest gallantry award. Wearing the small star, Jack thought, would give him the courage he needed to endure the next few minutes.
Mallet stood up, looking directly at Jack with her cold eyes.
“Denied.”
And then she waved the enforcers away.
The corridors swirled as Jack struggled to make sense of all that had happened. Only a few hours ago, he was running through these corridors leading the defense of the Scorpio. He could have died then. He could have died a hundred times before. But here he was, being led to his execution.
The small hangar door was open. Inside, a line of eight black-clad Fleet Intelligence enforcers stood to attention. The two holding Jack led him to a chair in between the rows of Marine tac boats.
The enforcers pressed Jack into the chair. He didn’t want to sit. He had fought standing and was determined to die standing. But the enforcers pressed him down. Jack sat. He sat up straight, fists on his knees, sitting at attention.
Mallet stepped forward as one of the escort enforcers produced a thin, white blindfold. He moved it toward Jack’s face.
Jack turned his head, speaking as firmly as he could.
“No.”
Mallet waved the enforcers away. The pair stepped into the line with the other eight enforcers and swung up their pulse rifles.
“If you have any final words, now is the time,” Mallet said.
�
��I never wanted to be a Marine. But I always did my best.”
Mallet nodded, confirming the words would be recorded. Then she turned sharply about and marched over to stand at the side of the line of enforcers.
Jack looked around the hangar. This was where he had caught his first glimpse of a Fleet carrier. Standing with Sam Torent, they had looked through the small portholes in the hangar deck out at the massive ship.
He had stood here with his fellow Marines before boarding company transport boats and tac boats, ready to depart on one dangerous mission after another. Now he was to depart this ship for the last time, off on the last adventure.
Jack had been a raw recruit, a squad leader, company commander, and finally battalion major. Missions had begun and ended here on this hangar deck. Now here he was again. A condemned man. Alone. Lost.
The command deck of the Scepter was a buzz of activity. Captain Mashiro Tanaka sat in the command chair of the massive carrier, now the flagship of the fleet. Standing at the holostage, studying the latest reports, was Admiral Henson with General Wallace at his side.
Henson had chosen to be evacuated aboard the Scepter and felt lucky to be alive. The other fleet carrier had been lost in the first Devex attack. So many of the fleet’s upper echelon had been lost, but Admiral Henson had survived.
“Communication from Frigate O-3,” Captain Tanaka said. “Commander Levin for you, Admiral.”
“On the holostage,” Henson said.
The main holostage image showed the positions of all Fleet ships. They were still scattered over many hundreds of astro units, but the fleet was slowly regrouping. The image of Commander Levin appeared at the side of the holostage.
Levin had a look of sudden surprise to find he was addressing the fleet admiral.
“Admiral,” Leven said, giving his best salute and adjusting his crumpled and stained commander’s jacket.
“Report, Commander,” Henson said.
“We found the idents we were looking for, both on board a civilian transport.”
A cheer went up around the command deck. Henson leaned heavily on the side of the holostage, emotion welling up inside. He struggled to speak. Days of nervous searching were at an end. He had found his girls.
New Enemy (Jack Forge, Lost Marine Book 4) Page 4