by K. C. Sivils
At Markeson’s order, the Station Master had locked the docking rings on the six freighters we were after. At best, it might slow them down till we could breach the airlocks and board the ships.
Smugglers who know their business prepare for any emergency that might delay their escape.
I pulled out my comm and initiated a link.
---
Markeson jumped the barrier and ran as hard as he could down the concourse to the boarding gate of the St. Gabriel. Carrying his badge high and away from his body with his left hand, Markeson held his phase pistol in his right.
“Stop! Police! Don’t let them board!”
The Colonel spun around, the shock of seeing Markeson written on her face. The Sergeant moved away, reaching into his jacket, watching the two stalk each other. The St. Gabriel’s greeting staff backed away, moving slowly back into the safety of the starliner’s airlock.
“Captain, so nice of you to come and see me off.”
“Save it. You blew your operation. Now I have to clean up the mess you’ve made for me.”
Markeson moved slowly, his anger and frustration at being placed in a situation he couldn’t completely control caused him to focus his vision on the source of his problems. The Sergeant recognized the blind rage of the detective and slowly moved further out of Markeson’s range of vision, moving around and behind the out of control cop.
“You are under arrest,” he roared, shoving the Colonel in the shoulder, spinning her around. He pocketed his badge and holstered his gun, pulling out a set of handcuffs. Taking the Colonel’s left hand, he slapped the first cuff around her wrist and activated the electromagnetic seal.
He didn’t sense the Colonel shifting her center of balance and initiating a spinning reverse turn, striking him square in his cheek with the back of her clenched right fist. The blow staggered him, causing him to stumble backward and fall over.
“You fool,” the red head snarled, contorting her features, in the process revealing her true face. Stunned at the hideous expression of evil, Markeson crawled away from the monster facing him. She reached into her purse and pulled out a lady’s kinetic energy weapon.
"This is a beautiful weapon," the Colonel informed Markeson. "Small caliber, but the projectiles do considerable damage.” Her most sultry smile appeared, sickening Markeson. “They tumble. Go in small, come out big, lots of damage in between.”
Slowly the Colonel raised the pistol, aiming it square at Markeson’s heart. Her mouth opened, emitting a high-pitched laugh, chilling to any who heard the insanity it unleashed.
“Oh, relax Detective Markeson.” She placed the strap of her purse back over her shoulder and put her left hand on her hip.
“I know you have a vest on.”
With a slight shift, the Colonel adjusted her aim and squeezed off a shot. The .22 caliber round slammed into Markeson's left shoulder, passing under his clavicle before slamming into the scapula and shattering it.
Gasping in agony, Markeson clamped his right hand over the wound. As he writhed in pain, the Colonel adjusted her aim a second time, firing directly into the prone detective’s right shin. The round passed between the tibia and fibula and through his calf, tearing away muscle and tissue as it created an exit wound.
Another agonized scream filled the on ramp of the concourse. Sweat poured off Markeson’s brow as he began to slip into shock from the pain.
The Colonel leaned over and smiled. She winked before she spoke, "You aren't much of a cop. You should have known I would be armed. Don't worry Detective. You won't last long. Shock and blood loss will end it soon."
Markeson mumbled, trying to tell the woman something. His mouth was full of blood, and his bottom lip split wide open from the blow to his face, preventing Markeson from speaking. The Colonel just laughed and turned to board the St. Gabriel.
She never saw the .45 caliber revolver the wounded detective pulled from his shoulder holster under his left arm. The roar of the discharge echoed down the tunnel into the terminal. Markeson could hear the screams of the terrified passengers waiting to board.
His vision began to blur as he dropped his weapon to the floor. Barely able to make out the body of the Colonel, he exerted the effort to bring her form into focus before he passed out.
“Nice small entrance wound. Nice big exit wound.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Whoever you are, you aren’t going to make it off this station,” Josephson shouted.
“That is where you are mistaken officer. We’re going to be leaving in just a few minutes. If you try to stop us, you’ll regret it.”
“You’re outnumbered,” Josephson shouted, unsure what else to say.
“You’re outgunned. We didn’t use deadly force. We didn’t use anti-personal mines nor did we set up a crossfire. Instead of using projectile weapons, we used phase weapons set on stun. None of your officers are severely wounded. If we had wanted to, we could have annihilated you and your officers the second you stepped off the service elevator. If we’d really wanted to cause problems, we would have wired the elevator and blown you to bits.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point,” Josephson shouted back. “Know this, the cargo you are protecting is not worth it. I take it your mercenaries. You can’t spend money if you’re dead or in prison. What is in those containers will start wars. The Alliance will hunt you down.”
“We’ll take our chances,” the voice called back. “Now, just make sure you and your fellow officers stay under cover and don’t do anything stupid. We’re changing over to projectile weapons now. No more games.”
Josephson sighed. Sullivan would be furious. He shrugged and slowly backed up before slipping behind the container for cover.
“Everybody just stay where you are. I’ll see what Inspector Sullivan wants us to do.”
---
My comm was going crazy. I had Kilgore and Josephson both trying to open a link with me. I opened the link with Josephson first.
“Sullivan, we’re pinned down by a group of mercenaries. At least I think its mercenaries. They say when the freighters leave they’ll pull out. They haven’t used deadly force but they will if we don’t let them go. What do you want me to do?”
The pup might not be outnumbered, but he was certainly outgunned and the officers with him were no match for hardened mercenaries.
"Just maintain your position. Don't do anything until I'm able to get there. If the mercs pull out and leave, let them. You're outgunned. Even if you weren't, you and the officers are no match for these guys.”
I broke the link and shook my head. This was why I hate operations mounted quickly based on information I hadn’t gathered myself.
I got Kilgore on the comm.
“Markeson’s down. He’s hurt bad, I’ve called for medics to get him to the hospital here. And Inspector, Colonel O’Donnell is here. He blew her away.”
“As soon as the medics get there, get up to Josephson with your people. They’re pinned down by mercs so be careful.”
I broke the link and continued my march toward the two freighters. Red lights flashed over the airlocks as the engines of the ships started up. The plating underneath me shook as the locking mechanisms broke, allowing the freighters to drift away from the space station. Smoldering metal remained, showing where the crews had melted away the locking devices.
Above me, the other four freighters had broken their locks and were drifting away. I opened a link to Josephson.
“Talk to me.”
“The freighters have managed to detach and are pulling away Inspector.”
“The mercs?”
"They're pulling back. The mercs must have a ship of their own."
I broke the link and got the Navy pilot on the comm.
“Think you can mess with those freighters for a few minutes?”
He just laughed.
“What do you want me to do Inspector? Buzz ‘em. Make ‘em ram each other? Just give me the word.”
“Just
try to herd them and keep them from being able to create enough space to get vectors clearing the station.”
“Roger.”
I was missing something. The Colonel was dead. The mercenaries who had done the heavy lifting of hijacking the containers from the Brownstown base had demonstrated no inclination to hurt anyone unless necessary and were pulling out. A single Navy pilot didn’t have a chance against them.
“Think, Sully, think,” I told myself. Then it came to me. The man Josephson had spotted meeting Markeson in Brownstown.
I opened a link to the pup.
“Josephson, just stand down. Keep an eye on things, but do not, repeat, do not engage anyone. The mercenaries just want to leave. The freighters we can probably follow or catch at other ports of call. The Station Master has their flight plans.”
I ran past the officers who simply watched me as I entered the elevator and took it down the main concourse.
Whoever was the real brains of this fiasco had to have an exit strategy. Things had gone south in a hurry. If the man Josephson had spotted was the brains, he would have considered the possibility of things going wrong at the station.
I just had to find him.
The elevator opened and I ran out into the crowded terminal to see the medics leaving with Markeson’s body on a stretcher.
I nearly panicked. I had lost track of Sarah.
---
Josephson just looked at the comm in surprise. It wasn’t like Sullivan to toss in the towel like that. Mercenaries or not, Sullivan would have been blazing away.
He thought about disobeying his partner for all of one second. If he disobeyed and engaged the mercenaries and survived, he wouldn’t survive the exchange with Sullivan when it was all over.
Pocketing the comm again, Josephson simply sat down and watched the freighters slip away. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the reckless Navy pilot maneuvering the shuttle they had arrived in with thrusters, acting like a herd dog he’d seen in school on a video, nipping at the heels of stray animals to return them to the safety of the herd.
Images of the carnage in the underground research center and the look of horror on Sullivan’s face when they entered the “butcher shop,” played through his mind. Sarah’s tears of relief when Sully told her Ellie was not one of the victims of vivisection.
The injustice of it all enraged Josephson. How could people do this? How could they get away with it? He’d looked at the carnage and seen the hand of pure evil. He thought about the scientist he’d shot and to his surprise, he felt no remorse.
The sudden realization of this frightened him. He’d always followed the rules. He wasn’t a rule breaker. In fact, he resented rule breakers. Decent people followed the rules and that allowed for society to be better for everyone.
Now he didn’t know. He’d seen the arrogance and evil in the expressions of the scientists in that horrible place. In the past when Sullivan smacked someone around, it always bothered him. Now he understood the rage Sullivan felt, had to feel, after years of witnessing the depravity of humanity. Josephson knew at Sullivan’s core he was a good man at heart. Sullivan wanted to help people, to keep them safe if he could.
It scared Josephson to his core to realize what he was capable of. That within him was the same potential to break the rules as the people who had butchered the helpless clones.
---
I spotted him. He'd worked his way behind me, using the crowds of anxious and angry passengers as cover. In his right hand, he held a .42 caliber projectile weapon. Wrapped around the throat of a furious Sarah was the Sergeant's left forearm. She struggled, kicking the man in his shins and ramming her boot on the top of his foot.
He watched me and smiled, ignoring Sarah’s efforts to escape his grasp. The smile vanished when she pulled the sleeve of his jacket up, exposing his forearm and sinking her teeth into his flesh. My cybernetic eye zoomed in on the tattoo on his forearm, a sniper’s scope with a dagger bisecting it at a right angle. He was Army Special Forces. He’d done wet work.
Evidently, he didn't appreciate the bite and expressed his displeasure by slamming the barrel of his weapon into Sarah's temple. It was all I could do to control my rage. I felt I was reliving Maria's death all over again.
"If you value the life of your little friend, you're going to back off Inspector."
“Why? You can’t possibly think you’re going to escape. That you’ll manage to get the cargo to your superiors.”
“Oh, I’m no longer worried about that Inspector. Some operations just go bad. You’re a military man I’ve been told. Contact with the enemy alters the plan instantly and irrevocably.”
He reached into his pocket somehow with his gun hand, withdrawing a device I recognized all too well, a remote detonator. Placing it in his left hand, he began stepping back, dragging a barely conscious Sarah with him while pointing his weapon at me. Behind him was an empty concourse.
If I could get him to put Sarah down, I could end this without anyone else getting hurt.
“Inspector, you can relax. I have no charges planted on the station. I’m not a mass murderer.” He lifted his gun hand holding the detonator, calling attention to the device. He smiled a sad smile as he spoke, “This device controls several functions. Allow me to demonstrate.”
He glanced out the giant window of the space station. The Navy pilot was doing his best, but the freighters would soon be able to get underway. Without using weapons, there was no way he could stop them from departing.
"This function releases the containers," the dark haired man shouted as he pressed it. A gasp came from the few bystanders watching, the station police having cleared as many of the passengers waiting to board the St. Gabriel from behind me.
I watched as six containers drifted away from the container freighters and realized what was about to happen.
“This function,” the deranged man announced, “eliminates the ability of you to track down my superiors.”
A brilliant flash filled the darkness as the containers exploded into flames, vaporizing whatever was inside. With great certainty, I knew human lives had been snuffed out. Whatever was in those containers, I knew some of the space was dedicated to transporting clones.
A quiet rage filled me as I watched Sarah come to her senses. It wouldn’t be long before she started struggling again. I doubted he would tolerate it this time.
I couldn’t let him hurt Sarah.
“I’m a Marine. You’re ex-Special Forces. You’ve done wet work.”
He laughed. "Once a Marine, always a Marine. Your kind thinks you're special."
“We are. Let’s settle this, soldier to soldier. Marine versus Army Special Forces.”
He tilted his head to one side. Intrigued by my proposition.
“And just how would we do that Inspector?”
“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. This is between us.”
“And if I do?”
I holstered my weapon and stood with my great coat open, my hands at my side.
“You holster yours.”
He laughed, a deep laugh from the bottom of his abdomen, filled with emotion.
“You must be a fan of ancient Earth movies. Space Westerns I believe they’re called. The villain and the hero meet at high noon on the main hoverway and shoot it out.”
"Sure, that's it," I said, measuring the distance between us carefully while calling up the specifications of his .42 pistol. I was just outside the range of the weapon, at least the range it could be considered accurate. I looked at his hips and noted he stood at a slight angle. I took two steps back and had my computer do the math.
“Let her go. Then let’s settle this like soldiers, with honor.”
I had him. He shook Sarah and elicited a groan from her. He dropped the detonator device and kicked it to the side. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he moved laterally to the inside wall of the concourse and gently laid Sarah down. As he moved back to his original position, she sat up, brushing her hair o
ut of her face.
Childlike as ever, Sarah stuck her tongue out at him.
Slowly, the man holstered his gun in a service holster fastened on his belt.
We looked at each other, hands by our sides. One of us would be dead in seconds.
He drew quickly, aimed and fired. I drew quickly but did not hurry. I let my right eye do all the work and fired.
His .42 caliber round whizzed past my left ear and impacted harmlessly against the curving wall behind me. My. 50 caliber bullet impacted dead center in his right pectoral, nearly blowing his arm off.
I walked over to him as he lay bleeding out.
He grimaced as he looked up at me.
“Thank you Inspector. I was once an honorable man. You have allowed me to die the death of a soldier, with honor. My failure to serve the Colonel stripped me of my honor. The cause is better off without me.”
He made a deep gasping sound as blood bubbled up from his lips, coating his chin as it ran down to his throat. It wouldn’t be long.
“This is a quick, honorable death. The Society would not have granted me dignity in my death,” he whispered.
A rattling sound escaped his mouth as his spirit left his body.
I didn't know how I felt about his death.
I felt slender arms slip around me and hug me tight.
"I want to go home Sully. Please? Can we go and eat at Joe's? Please?"
What else could I say? There would be plenty of time tomorrow for paperwork.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A lot had happened in the past three weeks. First of all, the mercenaries made a clean getaway. I’m pretty sure they were responsible for the six hijacked containers and probably the dead railroad employee. There was no real point in pursuing them. I didn’t have any evidence to convict with.
Kilgore didn’t have any choice. With General Savier and this Colonel Sandra O’Donnell dead, he had to call the brass. Within forty-eight hours as scary a bunch of Military Intelligence types as I’ve ever seen descended on Beta Prime. Twenty-four hours later they were gone.