by J G Cressey
Meeks couldn’t help but flinch a little. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything,” he said flatly.
“I have thought of everything,” the big man snapped. Getting to his feet, he pulled hard at his jeans even though his protruding belly prevented them from shifting an inch and glared at Meeks. “So now that you know all the details of my little piece of art, do you fancy accompanying me down to the hangar? Witness the grand finale first hand?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No, you bloody well don't.”
Chapter Nineteen
BACKUP
Meeks knew a scared and desperate man when he saw one, and officer Dalton was meeting the criteria with flying colors. Even remaining at the very rear of the hangar’s security room, Meeks could see the sweat dripping from Dalton’s neat, blond beard. Upon entering the room, the man’s obvious panic had instantly wiped Hogmeyer’s grin away. Since then, the big man’s face had remained a stony mask even after Dalton had recounted the moment when the main security control panel had malfunctioned, comm units and all. Without the comms, it had been impossible for Dalton to contact Captain Harper down at the launch bay. It had also been impossible to contact any of the guards that were posted within the hangar itself.
Meeks doubted whether Officer Dalton’s panic had truly kicked in at that point. After all, with the launch bay shield still up, Captain Harper and the Pinpoint ship wouldn’t succeed in going anywhere. No, Meeks would have laid a substantial bet that the panic had started when Harper had looked directly up at one of the security cameras. Meeks was no expert on technology or the workings of the city’s security systems, but even he knew that the cameras within the hangar were all but invisible to the naked eye.
“He looked directly at it?” Hogmeyer asked, his voice flat.
There was a small nod from Dalton.
“Coincidence,” Hogmeyer mumbled to himself then asked, “Tell me, Officer Dalton, why are you not out in the hangar talking to Harper and instructing your guards in person?”
Meeks was impressed by the steadiness of his boss’ voice. But he wasn’t fooled by it. There was anger lurking there. He knew the tell-tale signs only too well: the reddening of his already ruddy face, the constant opening and closing of his gold-ringed fingers. The longer the build-up, the greater the rage. If Meeks had given a damn, he might have feared for the poor, sweating security officer.
“I tried that, sir. As soon as the comms failed, I went straight for the entrance to the hangar, but…” Dalton’s panicked eyes drifted over to the heavy, steel door to his left. “The door, sir…the opening code…well, there was a strange hissing sound…and some smoke around the edges… That’s when Paulter here,” Dalton nodded at his second-in-command, “well, Paulter came over to inspect the door.”
Paulter was hunched nervously over his control panel on the far left of the room. On hearing his name, he hunched a little further as if the panel held some sort of protective field.
Meeks almost smiled. If officer Dalton was trying to divert Hogmeyer’s attention over to his colleague, he was failing miserably.
“And what did Paulter discover with this inspection?” Hogmeyer asked, his hard eyes not deviating from Dalton for a second.
“It…er…well, the door seems to be sealed shut, sir.”
“Seems to be?”
Dalton visibly squirmed. “Is sealed shut.”
Meeks did smile at that. It was very brief and small, but it was a smile. He had found himself physically repulsed by Harper and his crew, and he was bored to death with having to play along with his boss’ pathetic little scams. But he couldn’t deny that this one was shaping up into something interesting or at the very least amusing.
Hogmeyer finally turned his gaze from the sweaty officer and glanced at the sealed door. Then he nodded and turned to stare out of the security room’s viewing panel. In a similar fashion to the big man’s office, the panel was constructed from smart-glass, and through it, the entire hangar could be seen.
“You…Paulter.”
The second-in-command flinched.
“Use camera eight to zoom in on the launch bay.”
“Right away, sir.”
The man hammered at his controls with nervous fingers, and within seconds, the viewing panel was filled with the image of the Pinpoint ship. Captain Harper was still standing at the base of the loading ramp, but none of the rest of his crew were visible.
Officer Dalton cleared his throat. “Sir, I was just about to—”
Hogmeyer shut the man up by firmly grabbing his shoulder and shoving him aside. He then strode up to the viewing panel. “What the hell you up to, Harper?”
The words were mumbled, but Meeks heard them well enough. The big man’s left fist was still opening and closing. But with his right, he tapped against the smart-glass, closing in on Harper and enlarging the image until it was practically life size. “What the hell is your game?”
At that very moment, as if hearing the words, Harper looked directly at the camera, causing both Hogmeyer and Dalton to stumble back in surprise. Then he shot them a smile, causing them to stumble a little further.
Meeks’ thin lips twitched. This really was beginning to get interesting.
For a few silent moments, they all stared at the screen. Even the guard standing at the back of the room, who until this point had seemed a bit of a non-entity, shifted forward to get a better view. Meeks tore his eyes from the screen to glance at the guard. He was a big man, even bigger than Hogmeyer, and had a dumb, oafish face that he was using to openly smirk at the turn of events.
The oaf better be careful; the rage is coming.
Captain Harper was still smiling—a smile that seemed to have paralyzed Hogmeyer. Then Harper proceeded to pull a small device from his pocket and, turning back to the Delta Pinpoint behind him, theatrically pressed a button.
The ship disappeared.
“He's activated the Pinpoint's cloaking device, sir,” the second-in-command informed loudly.
“I can see that, you dolt,” Hogmeyer spat, turning to glare at the man. “You think I don’t bloody see that?”
The man shook his head and quickly went back to studying his controls.
Here comes the rage.
Meeks was doing his best to keep his amusement in check, but the oaf of a guard next to him was having less success. His deep, nasal sniggering eventually seemed to pull Hogmeyer from his paralysis. Whipping around, he shot the guard a look that would’ve made a more sensitive employee wet themselves.
“You think this is amusing, idiot?”
Meeks, who was standing a little too close to the idiot in question, took a few steps away.
“No, sir,” the guard replied, managing only a partial stifle of his snigger.
Hogmeyer strode over to the man and, gripping him roughly by the front of his armored jacket, swung him towards the sealed door—quite a feat considering the man’s size. “Get that bloody thing open before I end your smirking for good.”
“And you,” Hogmeyer thrust a hammy finger at the second-in-command, “get locked onto that Pinpoint and deactivate its cloaking device.”
“Already on it, sir.”
“So why the hell am I still not seeing it?” Hogmeyer bellowed. “All I can see is Harper’s cocky bloody grin.”
“I can't deactivate it, sir…and it doesn’t make sense. My readouts…they’re saying it’s been cloaked for the past three hours already.”
Meeks watched as his boss rubbed his forehead with sweaty palms. Even through the rage, his confusion was evident. The big man was used to creating mysteries, not solving them.
“Don't worry, sir,” Dalton said in a failed attempt to sound confident. “Whatever they're up to, they're not going anywhere with the launch bay shield still up.”
The veins on Hogmeyer’s neck began to swell. He turned to the man, his expression suggesting he might commit cold-blooded murder right then and there. Meeks wouldn’t put it past him.<
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“I think I’ve done it, sir,” the second-in-command blurted triumphantly. “The ship’s uncloaking now.”
All eyes went to the screen.
In the large space on the launch bay, where the Pinpoint craft had disappeared moments earlier, the gleaming form of a Star Splinter, Harper 7 was taking shape.
“That's odd. Looks like your Star…” The second-in-command abandoned his statement upon seeing Hogmeyer's face.
A little unsteady on his feet, Dalton stumbled forward and, with a few taps and swipes of his finger on the smart-glass, opened up a wide-angled view of the entire hangar. “This doesn't make sense. Your Star Splinter’s still in its docking bay. I can see it clear as day.”
“Lock onto that bloody ship,” Hogmeyer growled. “Deactivate all its functions.”
“You mean the Pinpoint?” the second-in-command asked desperately.
“No you bloody imbecile, my Star Splinter.”
The second-in-command hesitated. There were clearly two Star Splinters in the hangar: one on the launch bay and one in its docking bay. He looked frantically to his superior officer for assistance. Unfortunately, Dalton appeared the most bewildered of them all.
Hogmeyer threw his arms up as he took in their blank expressions. “The one on the Goddamned launching pad, you slack-brained morons,” he roared.
Meeks remained at the very back of the room as if the big man’s crimson face was emanating a scorching heat.
“So where'd the other Star Splinter ship come from?” asked the guard. He was still working on the sealed door. “And what happened to the Pinpoint ship?” Both were questions dominating the heads of the other men in the room, but the oaf was the only one willing to take the risk of asking. Meeks thought him either incredibly brave or completely blunt of mind.
Ignoring him, Hogmeyer continued to stare at the screen. “Hologram,” he muttered, more to himself than for the benefit of the others.
“Damn good hologram,” the guard pointed out recklessly. “Where'd they get a hologram like that from?”
“I wonder,” Meeks said, briefly losing hold of his controlled silence.
Hogmeyer ignored him too.
The second-in-command was still hammering away at the controls of his console. “I'm having trouble locking onto the ship, sir.” He ceased his hammering for a second to shake his head. “These controls, they’re all messed up.”
Dalton rushed over and sat next to him. “No, it isn’t a hologram,” he called out after a few moments. “I can confirm that the ship on the launching bay is the real Star Splin—”
The security officer was cut short by two gold-ringed fists clamping onto his collar and hauling him up out of his chair. “Not the Star Splinter,” Hogmeyer snarled, his crimson face an inch from Dalton's. “The Pinpoint…the Pinpoint was the hologram, you snivelling maggot of a man.”
“So where'd the real Pinpoint get to?” The guard asked, not bothering to look up. He was being showered by a stream of sparks from his pulse rifle’s laser cutter as he continued his work on the sealed door.
As if it were Dalton who’d asked the question, Hogmeyer bodily dragged the limp-legged security officer over to the viewing screen and pressed his face against the cold, hard smart-glass. “If even one of you incompetent morons had been doing your job properly and observing the hangar, you'd have noticed that Harper and his crew performed a ship swap. That Star Splinter,” Hogmeyer dragged Dalton's face across the glass screen until it reached the image of the Star Splinter in the docking bay, “is a bloody hologram. The ship over here,” Dalton's face squeaked against the glass as Hogmeyer maneuvred it mercilessly over to the Star Splinter in the launch bay. “That’s the real ship…my Goddamned, top-of-the-range Star Splinter. They used a second hologram to make it look like the Pinpoint. And now, because of you bloody fools, Harper and his friends have got their filthy mitts all over it.” Hogmeyer swung Dalton and sent him crashing awkwardly back into his chair.
“Captain Harper is entering the ship, sir,” the second-in-command shouted.
Hogmeyer spun and peered through the viewing screen, slamming his big fists against it. “Why aren't those dim-witted guards doing their rounds? They're just standing around like a bunch of limp fools.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have this door open in just a minute,” the oaf assured him in a tone that suggested they would all have a good laugh about this later. “So they’ve got two holograms then, eh? Always good to have a backup I suppose.”
Meeks felt an overwhelming urge to make a comment at that moment, but the look on Hogmeyer’s face snuffed it out almost instantly.
“So that would explain why the Pinpoint ship's cloaking device has been activated for the past few hours then, eh?” the oaf continued in his conversational tone. “I guess it's still sitting there in its docking bay, but we just can't see it. That's pretty damn clever.” Deactivating his laser cutter, the guard looked up as if expecting some sort of praise for this insight.
Definitely blunt of mind.
Hogmeyer lunged forward and yanked the pulse rifle from the witless guard’s grip. Grunting with surprise, the oaf tumbled back into the corner, his hands raised.
“I'm not gonna shoot you, you mindless fool,” Hogmeyer barked. “Although I bloody well should. I want you to use the gun's sights. Shine the aiming laser into the eyes of those guards out there. Get their bloody attention.”
“But you could blind a man doing…” The guard stopped short, finally realizing the benefit of a closed mouth. With a shrug, he took back his weapon and moved to the window.
“Don't worry, sir,” the second-in-command said confidently, “they won't be going anywhere with the launch bay shield up. I'm activating the backup shield too, just in case.”
Hogmeyer glared at the screen. Meeks was fairly certain that any last remnants of patience had well and truly seeped out of the man.
Then the main launching bay shield began to deactivate.
“What the hell are you doing, man?” Hogmeyer shrieked the words in a way no man his size should have been capable. “You're deactivating the Goddamned main shield.”
“It's…it’s these controls, sir,” the second in demand stammered. “They're all mixed up. They keep doing the opposite of what I want.”
Panic suddenly overruling his rage, Hogmeyer looked desperately to the guard, who now had his weapon pointed through the viewing panel. “Any response?”
“No, sir. I’m shining the laser right at um, right in their eyes, just like you said, but they’re not even flinching. It's like they're a bunch of zombies or something.”
Hogmeyer raised his clenched fists as if to punch something. Anything. “Get back to opening that bloody door,” he spat. “Dalton, who the hell has been at these controls?”
“Not a soul, sir, I can assure you.”
“What about that kid?” the oaf pointed out.
“Kid?”
“Yeah, the skinny kid with glasses,” he continued as he reactivated his laser cutter and directed it once more at the sealed door. “The little runt was tapping around on those controls for quite a while.”
Meeks noticed Dalton gripping his chair, knuckles white as Hogmeyer turned his eyes back on him. “Maybe he…he looked at them for just a minute.” The security officer released his chair to scratch rigorously at his beard.
There’s a tell if ever I saw one, Meeks thought, surprised that a man who resided in a gambling city didn’t have more control over such things.
“But he's just a kid,” Dalton reasoned, still scratching away. “I kept a close eye on him the whole time—”
“No you didn't,” the guard interrupted, pausing with his cutting laser to give a little chuckle. “As I remember it, the both of you were flirting your asses off with that tall blonde. Like a couple of giggling schoolboys you were.”
The second in command shot Dalton a panicked glance before returning his attention to his screen.
“You let one of Harper’
s kids monkey with these controls?” Hogmeyer closed in on Dalton.
His amusement rising to levels he’d not felt for years, Meeks watched on, not even risking a blink lest he miss something.
“But he's just a kid,” Dalton managed to repeat lamely before receiving a backhanded strike to his face that sent him tumbling from his chair.
“They're starting up the engines, sir,” the second-in-command informed tentatively. Meeks could tell the man was scared to say the words but was more scared of the consequences if he didn’t.
“What?” Hogmeyer had been about to plant one of his boots into the floored security officer’s gut. But instead, he half roared, half moaned and staggered over to the viewing panel. “My ship, that’s my bloody ship.” He pressed his sweaty palms against the smart-glass as his beloved Star Splinter slipped smoothly from the launch bay and cruised effortlessly out into open space. “Cannons…the external cannons…blow the bloody thing to smithereens, Goddamn it.” He turned, wild-eyed, to the second-in-command. Not having the courage to inform the big, crazed man that the cannons had also been monkeyed with, the man simply looked up and shook his head.
“Got it, sir,” the oaf said, looking up as the door juddered open.
Hogmeyer whipped around, looking a little unsteady on his feet as he did so.
Meeks remained silent. In fact, an eerie silence had descended upon the entire room as Hogmeyer stared, almost dumbly, at the open door. Then, as if a starter gun had gone off, he launched forward, violently kneed the crouched oaf of a guard aside, and bolted through the door and out into the hangar.