Exiles
Page 60
* * * *
Bryson, together with a fully loaded security detail, rifles at ready, was waiting outside the secondary hanger deck when Ford arrived. He looked at their polished combat armour and at the lightweight blue and green uniform under his eponymous cyber cloak. He couldn't help felling he was a little underdressed for the occasion. He shrugged, it was too late to do anything about it now. Besides his cloak had never let him down in a crisis before and he'd had far more than his fair share of those.
"What are we dealing with?" asked Bryson, locking and loading his rifle, staring intently at Ford with his unflinching grey eyes.
Ford shook his head. "Not sure yet, but assume nothing is as it appears. They, whoever they are, are dangerous and follow my lead, all of you."
"You heard the captain." snapped Bryson, casually shouldering his gun, as he keyed in the access code and ushered them into the hangar, sealing the door behind them. "Time to make our uninvited guest feel at home."
Ford and Bryson stood side-by-side as the rest of the detail fanned out behind them guns at the ready. The battle scared courier ship, held captive by the Themis docking web, was slowly being guided into position and lowered gently onto the otherwise deserted hangar deck. It came to rest at a crooked angle, as one of its rear landing sleds collapsed, unable to sustain its weight. Groaning softly in protest, as the metal gave way. Thin wisps of smoke were rising from what was left of the battered engine housings. The fuselage was badly pock-marked and scared from multiple hits. Ford surveyed the damage critically. Two or three well place hits from a fighter should have been more than enough to disable, then destroy her. They had been toying with her, making sure she got beat up, but got through. All he had to do was work out who and why. The Brethren had to be high on the list or perhaps it was linked to Ocoto's granddaughter on Malshenko. They'd find out soon enough, when they opened the cockpit.
Bryson held his rifle at the ready. "What now?"
He shrugged. "We wait."
"Well, not for long, by the looks of it."
There was a loud hiss as the pilot blew the emergency release on the cockpit cover and it bounced and clattered on the cold metallic floor of the hangar. She released the flight harness and waited for the grey webbing straps to slide back up into the seat. Clutching either side of the cockpit wall she pulled herself up and out of the seat, stepping onto the wing sloping down towards the hanger floor. Tall and thin, she had a lithe, athlete figure. The skin tight jump suit accentuating her curves. The tint, on the golden visor of her white helmet, had been cranked up to maximum, making her face barely discernible. She paused and looked around her, surveying the damage to her ship, before slowly reaching back into the cockpit and pulling out a black messenger bag. Slinging it casually over her left shoulder she jumped off the wing and stood facing them.
Ford could feel the tension in the air. The men behind him and Bryson looking to them for a lead, as they held their rifles at the ready, wondering what to do next. Ford pulled his pistol out from under his cloak, holding it at arm's length. Steadying his right arm with his left hand to disguise the slight tremble that ran through him.
His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. "Show yourself." he gestured with an upwards flick of the gun to her to remove the helmet.
Slowly she raised her hands up to the release catches on her collar. There was a soft hiss of escaping air as she broke the suits hermetic seal and lifted the helmet clear of her head. She shook her long golden brown hair free, as it fell down over her shoulders. Casually she tossed the helmet into the cockpit behind her. Looking long and hard at Bryson and his men fanning out around her and her craft, rifles at the ready, before staring Ford directly in the eye.
"One hell of welcoming party don't you think? You treat all your women like this?" she smiled, slid off the wing, and took a step towards him.
"That's close enough, damn you! Stay where you are."
He was finding hard to focus. It took him all his effort to concentrate. She had the same sparkle in her eye. The same self-assured tone in her voice. The confidence and self-belief he'd always admired in her, as she stood before him.
"Good to see you again too." she stood defiant hands on her hips. "I'm guessing, from the reception, you had nothing to do with helping me escape then?" she gesture towards Bryson and his men.
"I don't know who you are and what you're talking about." Ford snapped back trying to convince himself as much as her.
She looked at the floor and shook her head before eyeballing him again. "Come on Ford, your eyesight can't be that bad. Those glasses you're wearing are the ones I bought you, auto-correcting lenses as I recall. It's me, Xanthe."
Bryson looked at Ford, nonplussed.
"You're a copy, a fake, a facsimile, call it what you will. Xanthe died in my arms twenty-five years ago, after taking a bullet for me."
"Your memories even worse than your eyesight. As I recall it was two." she snapped back.
Ford felt his finger tensing on the trigger. "Xanthe's dead. I buried her myself on that miserable planet. So don't push me, I won't hesitate to shoot."
"Fine, pull the trigger then. If I'm already dead, you can't kill me again." her face was flushed, anger rising in her cheeks.
"We'll worry about establishing your identity when we've secured you in the brig." Bryson cut in trying to calm the situation. He looked at Ford. "We can take it from here."
Ford holstered his pistol. "That won't be necessary, just keep your guns trained on her. Shoot her and throw her out the nearest airlock, if she doesn't follow my instructions to the letter."
"Understood."
"Now slip that messenger bag off your shoulder and leave it on the floor in front of you."
She reached up to her shoulder, sighing heavily and shaking her head.
"Slowly." he added.
She let it slip onto the floor in front of her. "Now what?"
"Unclip you gun belt and place it on top of the bag."
"Slowly, I get it." she said as she slid her hands down to her waist and carefully unbuckled the belt before dropping it on the bag. "Anything else you'd like me to take off?" her voice was edged with sarcasm.
"Put your hands on the back of your head and keep them there." he gestured to Bryson to toss him his cuffs. "Now I want you to keep perfectly still and not give anyone an excuse to shoot, while I come around behind you and put these on."
She smiled, following him with her eyes, but said nothing as he stepped around behind her. He pulled her right hand down first, then the left, slipping the cuffs around each wrist in turn. He shuddered involuntarily as he did so. It was almost unbearable to be this close to her, even her hair smelt just as he remembered it, all those years ago. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble. It was all he could do to resist running his fingers down the soft flesh of her neck. His whole body ached for him to turn her around, take her in his arms and kiss her.
"You know." she said softly, so only he could hear. "If all you want to do is play a little rough, then all you have to do is lose these guys."
He shook his head.
"Tempting thought isn't it?"
"You have to idea." he whispered in her ear before pushing forwards into Bryson's custody. "Put her in the brig. High security isolation, and get someone from medical to check her out. So we know exactly what we're dealing with, before we interrogate her."
"Understood." said Bryson turning to his men. "And while we're at it lets get this ship quarantined and checked, in case she brought any nasty surprises with her."
Ford nodded in agreement and watched Bryson and two of his detail escort her off the deck, catching her looking over her shoulder at him, as the doors slid shut behind them. The rest of Bryson's men set about securing and checking what was left of the courier ship. He knelt down and picked up her gun belt and the bag. Tossing the gun belt to the man nearest him he held up the black messenger bag at arm's length, studying it intently.
"I wonder what's so import
ant about this?"
# # # #
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About the Author
Born in 1961 Richard has had a well travelled and varied career encompassing IT and the caring professions, as well as a lifelong interest in science fiction and fantasy. When not writing you'll most likely find him, in the gym, exploring one of the UK's National Parks, or otherwise engaged in or training for one of the many walking challenges that the UK has to offer. Currently working in community development the Ark Worlds Series is Richards first foray into ebook publishing. Let's see where it, Ford and his crew goes...
Other books by this author
Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Richard Alonzo:
The Ark Worlds Series
Rebels Ark Worlds Vol 1
Exiles Ark Worlds Vol 2
Reunions Ark Worlds Vol 3. Release date TBC
Other Titles
The Lost Legend
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