“Yeah,” was all Roan could say. Roan thought back to the mall. To the Kotaran he shot with the Nalite pistol, the one that ended himself with a bang. It was never easy killing a thing.
There was movement on the other end, and for a moment Roan’s heart skipped. He imagined a Kotaran surprising the two by charging down the hallway. But it was only Kel coming on the line.
“They were checking the schematics, too,” she said. She still sounded shaken. “Looks like they accessed a map of the ship.”
“Then that proves it. They’re trying to stop us dead in the void.”
“There’s at least one more on board, too,” Kel said. “We talked on the coms with a few crewmen, and they were tracking him on the upper level. That was the last report I got.”
“Kel, try to get the engine room on the line. Someone should be on duty there.”
A few seconds of waiting.
“The engine room’s not responding,” Kel said on the other end.
“I’m going down there.”
“Roan, wait.”
“I’m not taking anymore chances. Meet me outside the engine room. We’re gonna smoke this fucker out.” With that, Roan left the controls. There wasn’t even a plea for him to return to the com—Kel had seen how obstinate he was in less serious situations. Roan threw the airlock door open and squinted down the catwalk. The Kotaran wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He’d gotten through the other end. Roan began running, his boots clattering against metal. If the kanga’s entered engineering, Roan thought, at least let him be sealed off from the engines.
***
“I have entered the engineering section,” Roh reported. There was the sound of an energy blast and a muffled crumbling, and Grinek wondered for a second if his operative had been killed. But then Grinek noticed the heavy, rhythmic breathing of a Kotaran in the heat of battle, and knew Roh was alive. In seconds this was confirmed when Roh reported he was attempting to open a locked door to the engineering controls.
No one on duty was watching, so at last Grinek allowed himself a smile.
Chapter 11
There was a fire axe nestled in a cabinet, directly above an extinguisher. It was going to have to serve as Roan’s key to the engineering section. The computer had locked down the doors after getting input from the cockpit, and while it could easily be overridden, doing so would give the Kotaran more access than they could afford. Even if the doors were open for a second, he could run into a critical control room for the Colobus’ systems.
Steel against steel tends to swing in favor of the sharper blade, but Roan was finding the engineering door an especially difficult task. He swung overhand, so the axe dug into the siding at a downward angle, but apart from a few dents the action didn’t seem to be having the desired effect. They didn’t teach you this stuff at flight school.
If only they still made doors out of wood.
Whoever was on the other side of the door surely heard the clangs and had either moved on or was lying in wait to ambush Roan if he got through. Roan discarded the axe and wiped his brow with his arm. The lack of any kind of substantial meal all day was catching up to him now, and he collapsed onto the floor in a squat. His was drained. The thought of fighting another Kotaran was almost enough to make him pass out right there.
He pulled out his com. Time to check in.
“Tell me some good news, Kel.”
“There’s some. Our Kotaran’s trapped in-between two sections. The control-half of engineering and the machinery-half, where the core is located and the battery cells are charged. There hasn’t been breach of any of the locked-down doors.”
“Tell me about it.” Roan eyed his axe on the floor. “What are our options? Can you unlock the doors but disable the computer systems in the engine room?”
“I’d love to, Nick, but I don’t want to give this guy even a second more of access to this ship. He’s bottled up tight where he is. Let’s just pray he can’t rewire the door controls.” Roan thought of the Kotaran working the Colobus computers. Could he even do that? Did the Kotaran even read English? Actually, it was a stupid question. If the Kotaran could sneak on board a Type-B freighter and use the systems in the cockpit, he was probably a pretty clever fellow.
Did he speak English?
Roan had an idea. There was a com panel next to the locked and dented door, used for quick communication from workers in the cargo bay to anywhere else in the ship. What he had in mind was a long shot. Those had always been something of a specialty in the Roan family. It was a long shot to make the California Exodus three centuries ago. It was a long shot to settle in Tokyo. And it was a long shot for Nicholas to enroll in the military and then, the Company.
But he had to try.
Roan stood and went to the com panel, pressing the extension for the engineering room then hitting the “Talk” button.
“Hey!” he screamed into the device. “You, the Kotaran!”
He waited for a response: not for anything in particular, and in reality, it was kind of foolish to expect an intruder to just come and converse when he’s called.
“You’re surrounded, you know that? We’re going to get you out of there dead or alive.” He’d seen holofilms called “Westerns,” which pertained to the deserts of Western America before most of the country resembled one. There was always some lawman talking about bringing in a fugitive “dead or alive,” and the phrase popped into his head just then. What, was he trying to be an actor or something? Christ.
“Look, Kotaran, you won’t get what you want. Your friends are dead. I killed one of you guys already today. You may have heard of me.” Did Kotarans know fear? Did they hear of his exploits earlier at Yuko Mall? Could he have a reputation among them already?
Roan’s personal com beeped. He pulled it out and answered.
“Roan, there’s a problem.” It was Kel again.
“Another one?”
“Actually, several. The indicators up here say that the breach indicators in the engineering section are blinking like crazy. This Kotaran’s trying to work his way through those doors somehow, and into the core room.”
“That’s a big uh-oh.”
“We’re communicating with an engineering officer who managed to lock himself in a storage closet. He’s pretty afraid. Masao’s been talking to him and apparently he can hear banging and the sound of something cutting through metal.”
“The banging was probably from me. The cutting—well, the Kotaran’s probably scorching his way through those metal doors.”
“The hidden engineer has some metal pipes but nothing much to use as a weapon. If that Kotaran comes through the door he’s going to go straight for the engines. And if his goal is to disable the ship, he can do it in a few minutes. If he wants to destroy us, all he has to do is shoot the plutonium containment and the FTL goes up in smoke—you know what happens then.”
“Let’s pray that all he wants is to hold us up.”
“It looks that way, actually.” A few seconds pause as Kel conferred with Masao on the other end. “We were able to get a signal out, try to call for assistance from another ship, but I don’t think our calls got through. Something behind us is jamming us. All external channels are blocked by wide-spectrum interference.”
Roan cleared his throat. He feared what they would say next, but he asked anyway. “What do the sensor readings say?”
“The sensors are being jammed, too, but we’re still able to get some output. That’s limited to readings a few million kilometers in front or behind us.”
“When did this jamming happen?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Has to be a long-range jammer. Military grade.” Not good.
Some more talking on the other end of the com. “I’d never seen anything like it. Masao says—”
Some commotion and then apparently Masao took control. “It’s a Kotaran ship, Nick. We’ve got a Kotaran ship following us. Goddamn, it’s just like Sagittarius all over again.”
<
br /> Roan remembered it well. It was the only time the Dunnock was ever boarded by an alien party. The craft had come without warning, from their aft, obscured by the energy from pulsar J0108. All their sensors went dead, and their power, too, from some dampening weapon. The ship rattled from the hum of the Kotaran ship’s engines, and out the viewscreen, he and Masao had watched as the sleek tactical cruiser glided overhead, turning and halting over the Dunnock. By a stroke of incredible fortune, the Kotarans came and left without harming anyone on board. They said they were looking for a fugitive, a human trader, but upon finding none they hightailed it out of there. There were no diplomatic incidents that day, though a few cases of high-density microchips and processors (intended for New Lapland) were missing when the Kotarans departed.
“You’re positive it’s a tactical cruiser, Masao?”
“When I’m right, I’m right. And I’m right, Nick. No way this could be anything but one of their ships.”
“We could shoot off one of our probes and make sure.”
“Why waste the energy?”
Kotarans on board. Kotarans behind them. Seven-foot roaches with the power of strangulation every which way. At least they had one trapped.
“I think it’s safe to say they’re going to want to stop us,” Kel said. “They want some information. Whatever Aaron gave you, I think.”
Nick remembered the pad once again. That thing was causing all sorts of trouble.
“Look, we know where one of them is,” Roan said. “He’s trying to burrow into our core and do God knows what, and I need suggestions. I could try following him but I’m not very keen on dying today.”
“We could blow the doors,” Masao suggested. “There might be some mining explosives in the cargo containers. Or some powerful weapons. I hear Orion’s running a bit of an arms-deal business on the side, with some groups trying to get their hands on mercury rockets.”
“I can guarantee there’s nothing like that on board,” Kel said.
“Let’s remove the air from engineering, then,” Roan asked. “Kill him like a rat.”
“There’s a crewman still in there,” Kel said indignantly. “I’m not going to suffocate him. Don’t you know how horrible a way to die that is?”
“Better than being killed by a Kotaran saber,” Roan said. “We might have to accept some sacrifices here. Cutting off life support may be our only option.”
“Wait.” Kel paused. “What kind of chemicals do we have on board?”
Roan and Masao spoke at once, listing a few of the things they carried. Canisters of oxygen and a few freshening agents. Several flame retardants. Kel, also a senior officer, quickly rattled off a few cleaners and disinfectants. Then, when she hit “Methanlycil,” she clapped and cheered, as if she’d just won a prize.
“Methanlycil, an aerosol. They use that to polish the interior of the ship when it’s in drydock. It’s nonlethal, if I recall.”
“Well, ideally you don’t want to breathe it,” Masao said. Roan heard a faint but audible bang from the other side of the door. Possibly the Kotaran breaching the doors.
“But it’s stored topside in tanks,” Kel continued. “They keep it there because periodically they want to clean the interior of the ship. You can disperse it through the vents, no problem, and control what sections it disperses in. What if we inundated the engineering section with Methanlycil?”
“It could work,” Roan said, holding the com to his chin in thought. It was just the kind of crock scheme that a Roan would’ve suggested—maybe she was taking a few of those Roan long shots, too. See, another reason the two of them would be great together. She didn’t even have to take his name, Roan thought, he could become Nick Streb or—
“Do we have any Metha-whatever?” Masao asked.
“Let’s check,” Kel said. Roan heard typing on the other end. He tapped his foot impatiently, picturing the Kotaran breaking through the door all the while. “Yes, it looks like they filled up the Colobus a few months ago and there’s still plenty in the tanks. I think the engineering section could use a good disinfecting.”
“How long will that take you to set up?” Roan asked.
“A minute or two.”
“All right. Do it. Tell that crewman to cover his mouth or something, the smell of that shit is awful.” There was an acknowledgment on the other end, and Roan hung up his com. He eyed the banged-up door, and smiled and the thought of a Kotaran writhing and choking and then passing out on the other side. He just hoped the dosage was enough to fell a three hundred-pound towering alien, physiology differences and all.
“Earthman!” came a voice from the panel by the door. “Earthman, answer me!” It was a voice in accented English, accompanied by a sharp bite. The Kotaran was responding to Roan’s earlier requests. Roan cautiously worked his way to the panel and pressed the talk button, as if he was steeling himself for what came from out the other end.
“Yeah?”
“Are you captain?”
“No, but I do have the power to kick your ass.”
This shut him up for a brief second. He returned as vitriolic as ever. “Your threat nothing. Soon you dead. Your whole race dead.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“You anger wills of Fox’Lo and Bar’Hail. You damned in all your past and future lives.” Were Foxtrot and Barhom some kind of Kotaran gods? Roan had only heard whispered stories of a Kotaran religion, but what he remembered was that religion had been exterminated ages ago in that culture. The government preached a philosophy that was wholly deity-free. Of course, information on Kotaran culture was spotty at best.
Roan again pressed the “talk” button—anything to stall this guy. “I don’t care what gods you pray too. You’d better pray that I don’t ever meet up with you.”
“Your foolish talk is blasphemy. You die soon—that all you need know.” With his ungrammatical utterance, the Kotaran appeared to end their conversation and probably returned to trying to get through the sealed doors.
“Hey, get the hell back here, you kanga! Let’s talk religion some more.” No response. Instead, there was a blast and the walls shook, causing the lights and electronics to flicker. Roan fumbled for his com.
“I think he’s breached the engineering section. How’s that gas coming?”
“We’re on it,” Masao replied. “It should be coming in there any second.” On the other end there was what sounded like the rapid flipping of switches. “Yep, it’s coming through. Should be all over in a few minutes.
Roan pressed his ear against the door crack to listen for the hiss of gas. He couldn’t hear anything, so it probably was emitted inaudibly. He quickly moved his head from the door. It’s not a good idea to press your face against somewhere were paralyzing gas could be seeping through. There weren’t any more explosions from the other side, so presumably this Kotaran had just been knocked out cold. Roan waited five minutes, wondering how long it would take to incapacitate a being of that size. Then he called the cockpit and told them to unlock the doors.
The gears shimmered and a clanked. Roan turned the latch and the door creaked open. Beyond it lay darkness, and it took a while for Roan to adjust to the light. The control monitors stood out in the darkness, their RESET screens casting blue glows every which way. On the floor was a body of a technician, his back cut open with a red gash. Roan stepped over him on his way to the machinery section.
A film of smoke hung in the air and for a second Roan thought it was the Methanlycil. He covered his mouth, but stopped when he saw the cloud surrounded the remains of the security door. The guy must’ve used a grenade to blow it open, and a very powerful one at that. Roan tip-toed around chunks of steel and copper, and avoided others jaggedly protruding from the walls. One more threshold later and he was in the engine room.
Amidst the hum of the engines, the unconscious Kotaran lay sprawled on the floor. His snout enveloped a mean snarl, and his tail curled in a spiral behind his back. Strange to be so close to such a beas
t and not shaking all over. Roan’s heart was still beating like crazy, as there was always the chance this guy was faking it, but as more time passed and the Kotaran did not lunge forward, Roan thought it was safe to render him harmless.
Roan kneeled and removed the alien’s knife and pistol and clipped them to his belt.
He’s defenseless. Out cold. A perfect target.
Roan cradled the Kotaran pistol. Resembling some brass knuckles, the mechanics of the thing were not hard to figure out. Putting his fingers through the rungs of the pistol, Roan believed he could confidently shoot the thing.
He aimed it at the Kotaran.
“Mr. Roan.”
It was David. Roan nearly pulled the trigger as he started.
“Yeah?” Roan barked. Christ, what did he want? He’d snuck in behind Roan without making a sound, without even announcing himself on the com.
“Don’t do that, please,” David said. The Nyden’s head was glowing gold, casting an otherworldly glow in the dark space. David slowly inched toward the Kotaran.
“Do you know how many people he’s killed, David? He’ll go on killing if he wakes up. For all I know he’s the same one that killed Aaron back at the mall.”
David bent down beside the Kotaran. He’d be in the way of any laser shot now. “He’s not,” David said, firmly. “Look, Mr. Roan. Look at the hair. It’s white. This is a young Kotaran. The one on Earth had darker hair and was older.” David pointed one of his talons at the Kotaran’s fuzz between the ears. Indeed, it was white.
“So what?” Roan said.
“This Kotaran needs medical attention. It’s not right what you want to do.”
“He’s a kanga bastard.”
The Fifth Civilization: A Novel Page 10