by A. R. Knight
“Recorded. Have a nice day!”
As the bot whirred away, Gregor made for the stairs. He took one look back towards Rovo, the rookie’s body hidden by his room’s confines. Doctors and surgical bots continued to flow in and out, the reds on their gloves pulling Gregor’s frown deeper.
These were the best of the best. Rovo’s wound had looked bad—lasers to the lungs tended to be rough—but if any crew could pull the rookie from the brink, it’d be these.
And they’d have more victims to treat if Gregor didn’t get a warning out to Sever soon.
Gregor hit the concourse, brushing past another stretcher coming in. A cloth sheet over a body. Gregor caught a leg, the crimson uniform, the black stripe.
“Where’d you find that one?” Gregor said as they wheeled the body into the med bay.
“Guest quarters,” replied one of the wheelers.
“Alone?”
“You want to know, go find security.” The wheeler delivered the reply and kept on going, the cart vanishing down the med bay’s ramp.
It didn’t pay to accept coincidence. Not on this ship, not right now. If another black-striped body came through, then Gregor had to assume someone else in Sever had been attacked. Had, going by what he’d seen, won.
Good. Served whomever had sent these bastards right.
The concourse didn’t look like it cared. The med bay’s end, beneath the bridge and above the weapons center Gregor had just left behind, held foot traffic going to training rooms in the area and little else. Squads, loosely formed, jogged into designated centers for physical or simulator exercises, while officers chatted outside, some watching the events on viewing screens designed to show off what happened inside.
The public is always watching. Another DefenseCorp slogan hammered in through practice.
Another thing hammered in? When the lights change, stop and listen.
The concourse’s mellow white lighting flickered, flashing over to a soft blue. Gregor, habit taking hold, stopped his walk—running seemed likely to attract the wrong attention—like everyone else in the corridor. Blue wasn’t a dangerous color like red or yellow, but it meant a message from the bridge, something to pay attention to.
“This is your admiral speaking,” Deepak’s voice came heavy over the intercoms, as though he were announcing a death of a close friend. “As many of you know, the Nautilus has seen many newcomers in the last week. Our itinerary has been changed. Now, so has our role within DefenseCorp. To ease this transition, we are asking that all active troops return to their barracks and await further orders. For the rest of you, carry on and expect further details soon.”
The blue lights flickered back to white, the change coming with loud yells as commanding officers barked their soldiers out from the training rooms and into jogging lines heading back towards their barracks. Gregor found himself stuck as the concourse filled with salaried soldiers fulfilling Deepak’s command.
A strange, suspicious command. The order would clear the Nautilus concourses of armed soldiers, ones that might know Sever, that might help seeing someone get attacked. Or, on the other side, it might be a straight recall before a major shift in how the ship organized its force.
Gregor, having just survived a surprise attack, chose the more dangerous proposition. And with the concourse clearing, he—
Two hands, different ones, landed on his shoulders from behind. Two stinging sensations hit his waist, firing up and down his nerves. Shockers, meant to spasm out his muscles until they gave up and left Gregor limp. An attack that should’ve brought down most troopers in a few seconds.
Gregor hit the floor, watching the last retreating troops fade away down the concourse while his eyelids twitched, while his arms and legs hit themselves on the ground. Then those same hands landed on Gregor again, turning him over. Two people, a Casparian and a man, both clad in DefenseCorp’s medical uniforms, looked down at him.
Another attack. Another ambush. How many enemies did Sever have on this ship? These two didn’t have the crimson-and-black uniforms on, but they had Zaydi’s look to them: people on a mission, following orders they very much believed in.
“Fight,” the Casparian said, its willowy white body seeming to shrivel and reform beneath its clothes, like a cloud caught in a net, “and we will finish what Zaydi could not.”
The man’s eyes flashed at Zaydi’s name, and he knelt down next to Gregor’s head, “Give me a reason, Gregor.”
The Shocker had its uses, but the flares faded fast if the victim had enough will, enough strength to push back. Gregor bought into the tremors even as the pulses died, keeping his arms moving, his legs jerking as best he could. Aurora always said Gregor wasn’t much for stealth, but when it counted, Gregor could play dead.
“Don’t encourage him,” the Casparian said. “Let’s move him inside before someone comes back.”
Gregor held his look on the Casparian while the two moved to try lifting Gregor. The aliens had specialties, none of which played out in open combat. So far as Gregor knew, Casparians in DefenseCorp played ancillary roles, supporting squads or working in the clandestine arm of the company.
The clandestine arm. The agents on Dynas. Gregor flipped back through his brief time with the agent trio on that swampy mess of a world. They’d been so interested in the idea of a successful virus. They’d forced Gregor to fly out and show them, had been sorely disappointed when it hadn’t worked out.
Only one agent had made it off Dynas with Sever. Lani, who’d said she had no plans to go back to DefenseCorp when they dropped her at the trading station.
But plans could change.
The Casparian and the man tried to lift Gregor and failed. He made it a few centimeters off the floor before the Casparian dropped Gregor’s feet and swore.
“He’s big,” the Casparian admitted. “Let’s drag him.”
Deepak said he’d exchange Sever’s freedom for Kaia’s location. Give up the only living example of the working virus. Deepak himself hadn’t ever shown an interest in genetic enhancements. He was a by-the-books admiral, fulfilling contracts on the way to a comfortable retirement on some resort world.
There were holes here Gregor couldn’t fill. The message back on Wexer suggested DefenseCorp wanted to know about anyone Sever had spoken to about Kaia, about Dynas. They wouldn’t get that information by killing Gregor, Rovo, and the rest.
Something had changed, and as the Casparian and the man dragged Gregor back into the med bay, Gregor tried to figure out what.
Rather than drag Gregor down towards the med bay’s crowded middle, the two pulled the big man off to the side, into a low grade level meant for longer recoveries. Most beds here weren’t occupied, a sign that the Nautilus hadn’t been doing many major missions lately. The two dragged Gregor past three empty beds, getting him well away from the main ramp, before pulling him into a room and dropping him.
“Eyes on him,” the Casparian ordered. “I’ll confirm whether we can eliminate.”
“On it.”
The man drew a pistol, stood in the room’s doorway while Gregor laid on the floor. Anger filled the agent’s face as he watched Gregor, a cloud sticking to a face that moved between gritted teeth and a deep frown.
“You can kill the act,” the man said. “Guy your size, the shock should be off by now.”
“You’ve trapped a beast,” Gregor replied, indulging the man’s command and sitting up. “Can you keep him caged?”
“I’d rather kill him.”
“Because of Zaydi?”
The man’s eyes narrowed, “She didn’t deserve what you did, but no. More than that.”
“Tell me?”
A laugh that belonged to the lost came from the man’s lips, “Don’t think so. You’ll be dead in a minute anyway.”
“Then why not explain?”
The man almost, almost looked like he would start talking. The mouth twitched up from the frown to a small smile, the victor’s look. The Casparian, though,
came back at that moment and ruined it. The ghostly face sneered Gregor’s way.
“Lucky for you,” the Casparian said. “Your commander doesn’t know where to find the girl. We’re not killing any of them yet.”
The man swore. Gregor shook his head. Not only were these people dangerous, they were idiots. Who would kill off the ones that knew what you needed to know?
“Do you?” The man asked Gregor. “Do you know where the girl is?”
“Maybe?” Gregor didn’t have a clue, but the man still had his pistol on him. “Why would I tell you?”
The morons had already blown their best threat. By showing they were ready to kill Sever, any urge to give up information went away. They’d kill Gregor anyway, so why talk?
“Can I?” The man asked the Casparian, taking his eyes off Gregor for a critical second. “We’ll just say he tried to escape.”
Gregor curled and jumped for the Casparian, moving to the side enough that the man’s pistol shot missed by millimeters. Gregor didn’t bother going for a grapple, trying anything fancy. He just slugged the alien hard with his right hand, lifting up as he did so. With the Nautilus’s gravity, the Casparian flew back and up from the force, dropping down to the next level and landing on another room.
The man recovered enough to aim his pistol Gregor’s way, just in time for the room’s walls to shift red. A loud beep squawked, throwing off the man’s aim just enough for Gregor to keep on running from his Casparian punch. The emergency button did its job, sending the room into a flaring panic. Bots swarmed as Gregor made for the level’s corridor, the mechanized hosts flying, walking, trundling by and blocking any shots the agent might be able to take at Gregor’s back.
Gregor wasn’t one to run from a fight, but the man had weapons. Had positioning.
Hitting the med bay’s main ramp offered a choice. Gregor could head back up to the concourse, resume running towards the Prisa and his hammer. Doing that, though, would leave Rovo alone down in the med bay’s pit. Sever’s primary rule?
Don’t abandon your squad mate.
The agents had weapons, but as Gregor broke right down the ramp, then dashed onto another level, hiding between the beds, the bots, and the hanging equipment, the big man knew he had something almost as good:
Surprise.
Nine
To The Rescue
Blood splattered her ship’s floor. Its walls. Admittedly, the mess came at Eponi’s own hands, pulling the trigger that turned the intruder into so much goo.
Still. Eponi had only scoured this ship a few days ago, before the assault on Wexer.
Everyone had their triggers. Some didn’t like getting embarrassed. Others couldn’t handle losing a game. Eponi didn’t give two craps about her personal appearance, but her ship?
“I know you’re going to tell me we can’t clean this up right now,” Eponi said to Sai as they looked at the mess. “But can I clean this up right now?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
They’d heard Deepak’s message while Sai showed her the little message on the drive. Eponi hadn’t made much sense of the three lines either, and the overhead broadcast drove the riddle from her mind. None of the others had come back yet, and Deepak clearing the halls of any neutral party that might help in an attack by one of the black-striped killers?
Sai led the way down the ramp, katana out and ready while Eponi brought up her rifle to cover. Upon hitting the bay floor, Eponi sent the ramp scurrying back up, locking the Prisa.
“I’ll come back for you,” Eponi whispered as they went to the bay’s door.
“Bridge first,” Sai said. “We know Aurora’s with Deepak, or he’ll know where she is. Gregor and Rovo should be able to handle themselves.”
“You think the rookie could take these people?”
“I think Gregor can cover.”
Fair, though Gregor didn’t have his hammer. Would he still fight, even without it? Was that even a question?
Gregor would fight with anything he had. Fists, teeth, toes. If anyone could make it out of an assassination alive, it’d be him.
Outside the bay, the docking berth concourse had its usual bot array. Non-trooper staff continued their rounds, though they all stopped at the sight of Sai with his katana out. At first, the pause confused Eponi: DefenseCorp soldiers regularly had weapons visible on the ship.
Oh. The uniforms. Neither Eponi nor Sai wore any. They looked like civilians, ones covered in weapons and Sai, at least, had blood all over his clothes.
“Uh,” Sai said, his katana grip faltering under the stares.
“Ignore us,” Eponi announced. “There’s a threat to the ship that we’re handling under Deepak’s orders. Carry on.”
She’d used that voice before, talking to fans after kart race victories. Injecting authority and a little bit of puffery to keep people listening, trusting what she said. Only this time, instead of promising future wins for her team, she hoped to get a free pass carrying arms right into the Nautilus.
“Move,” Eponi whispered to Sai. “And maybe sheath that sword.”
The demolitionist did as Eponi asked, her words piercing his paralyzing veil. Sai went and Eponi followed, moving up the concourse and passed the first few workers. Eponi met eyes, issued solidarity nods, and, when nobody died, the berth crews went back to it.
“I’m impressed,” Sai said as they went on, transitioning to a moving walkway beyond the berths to speed things up. “How’d you know they would listen to you?”
“Because I am amazing, and I know it.”
“Right . . .”
Beyond the berths, the concourse smoothed into an emptier expanse. The missing troops should’ve filled these halls, meant for briefing rooms and strategy meetings for upcoming and current contracts. Instead, panels next to every door declared the spaces open and cleaning bots held sway. At the corridor’s end, lift banks would take them up to the bridge, or down to the med bay and the mess hall.
“Any ideas who these people are?” Sai said as they went. “I didn’t get much chance to talk with mine.”
“I’m going to go ahead and guess that they’re DefenseCorp,” Eponi replied. “Also, that they’re jerks. They shot out the Prisa’s cameras.”
“And tried to kill us.”
“Right, that too,” Eponi frowned. “We know they’re wearing official uniforms. They’re on the ship and can get around. I think they overpowered a security detail too.”
That earned a look from Sai, “So they’re not just going to hurt us?”
“I don’t think they care.”
“Indiscriminate. That’s not in our books.”
Sai meant the DefenseCorp regs for squaddies. Unnecessary casualties, particularly civilians, were to be avoided unless, and it was a big unless, any accidents would support DefenseCorp’s goals. Whether or not their enemies considered taking out a security detail excusable was a question Eponi couldn’t answer.
“We don’t have any books anymore, remember?” Eponi said. “You just have to live with yourself.”
“Maybe not for much longer.”
The lift pushed the duo up to the bridge, popped them out into another corridor. Almost empty again, save for the ever-present, disc-like cleaning robots scurrying across the floors. To those machines, the missing people must have been a huge opportunity.
“Glad something’s enjoying this,” Eponi muttered as they turned towards the bridge.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
If the Nautilus’s mid-levels were functional, kept straightforward so the troops and docking bay workers could focus on their jobs, and the lower levels like the mess hall and med bay adopted some individual character, the bridge and top-level facilities played to their dual roles as operational centers and showcases.
Any big visitor would spend their time up here—Eponi knew there were special guest quarters up here for anyone too important to get shoved into the barracks—so Deepak had the walls decorated wi
th actual art. Weaving color lines, a red, blue, cream, and black combination representing DefenseCorp’s major branches, played along the wall’s middle all the way down the concourse. Major DefenseCorp players had their pictures plastered up every so often, mixed in with critical ships from the company’s past.
The color weave held Eponi’s attention. The four worked in concert. Red, DefenseCorp’s active-duty squads, worked contracts and did the heavy missions. The blue were DefenseCorp’s stabilizing forces, a group both Sai and Gregor had spent time in, taking contracts to keep worlds under control. The black held the agents, DefenseCorp’s spycraft arm, taking more subtle contracts and helping to find intel for big missions.
The cream contained everyone else. All those support staff in the berths, the Quartermasters, the cooks.
“Look at this,” Eponi said as Sai went bridgeward. “See anything interesting?”
“The colors?”
“Yeah, the colors,” Eponi replied. “Crimson and black. Those were the uniforms.”
Sai looked at the lines, “You’re thinking they’re agents.”
“Always knew you were smart.”
“Eponi, of course they’re agents,” Sai threw her an eye-rolling headshake. “C’mon. Who else was going to get onto the Nautilus and act like this?”
Sai started off again and Eponi went after him.
“Wait, you knew and you didn’t say?” Eponi sped up to catch Sai, who seemed like he wanted to make up for every lost second speaking with another lunging stride.
“I thought you’d made the connection.”
“But, down below, you—”
“The question is who’s agents,” Sai said. “Who’s running this operation?”
“Oh. Next time, be more obvious.”
“Will do.”
The bridge did not respect their urgency. The big doors, with their downward and away slanting angles, stayed closed as Sai and Eponi approached, red-glaring security lights declaring locks that neither Sever member could open.
Sai and Eponi stared at the obstacle, waiting for someone to come or go. The bridge should’ve been a hive, even during whatever emergency Deepak had been getting at with his overhead announcement. People should’ve been running in and out, carrying messages, equipment, or just themselves from one place to another. Instead, nothing moved.