When pressed on what “other areas” meant, Dex explained that noncompliant vessels remained a threat and if necessary the command deck could be targeted, and in extreme measures life support systems. He told them of a recent encounter where scanners indicated the captain of a vessel whose guns and guidance systems had been destroyed, activated an escape pod and intended to jettison before detonating his ship.
The Centorian captain was confident his crew of 375 had no idea he was illegally transporting innocent captives to Numaria where they were going to be disambiguized. One of those captives was Centorian.
“We really had no choice,” explained Dex. “That ship’s commander ordered his officers out of the command deck and began entering the ships autodestruct code. Before he finished we took him out. We boarded the ship to very little resistance and interrogated the officers. They had no idea the captain was transporting prisoners and were shocked when they learned he was on the verge of blowing up their ship.”
“Well, that’s the tour,” said Dex. He grabbed a door handle at the back of the vessel but it was locked. “That’s odd.”
“What’s in there?” asked Guzzle.
“Search me,” answered Dex. “That door is never locked.”
Guzzle looked at Joe with an expression only a very close friend would understand.
“So Dex, could you give me another look at those cannons?” he asked.
“Sure.” Dex turned and walked toward the front of the ship and Joe followed.
While they were walking away Guzzle moved closer to the locked door and pressed his side hard against the seam and thought, “I need to be inside.” He slid through the thin space between the door and the jam and into a storage cabin that was about 10 by 20 meters; it had a double wide cargo door at the back end. A small carbon fiber pallet located in the middle of the floor was secured in place with heavy metal anchors and anchored on the pallet was a small circular metal device about three meters tall with a flat bottom and rounded top.
Embedded in its side was a control panel with a screen and key pad. Except for where the panel was mounted, the device had no seams. “That’s my only option,” thought Guzzle, who put his head against the control panel and said quietly to himself, “I need to get my head inside.” He was sure if anyone entered the room at that moment they wouldn’t believe their eyes. From the outside it would look like the device was eating him and had managed to swallow his entire head.
On the inside it was a totally different picture. There were several integrated circuit boards mounted on rigid metal trusses spanning the inside. Against the curved surface of the metal skin two timers were mounted on shock absorbers and just below that, in the center of the device was what Guzzle could only suppose was a primer mounted to a completely enclosed sphere. The moment he saw that sphere he knew what it was and his face started to become red and warm as anger welled up inside him.
When he reached the cannons, Dex turned toward Joe and noticed Guzzle wasn’t with them, “Where’s your friend?”
“I’m sure he got distracted by something. Probably the only person here worse than him at staying on task is me,” replied Joe who had carefully worded his reply so it wouldn’t be a complete fabrication. “There he comes now.” Even from a distance Joe could tell his closest friend was upset. It wasn’t a look he saw often, but it was unmistakable.
“I’ve decided I’m not going,” said Guzzle. Looking at Dex he said, “You can tell Arton I changed my mind, I’m getting off the ship.” Joe knew immediately that what Guzzle had found behind the locked door was a game changer.
“Wait a minute,” said Dex, “I don’t know what’s bothering you all of a sudden but at least give Arton a chance to discuss it with you.”
“He had better hurry,” replied Joe, “we work as a team. If Guzzle goes I go.”
Dex was already on his communicator, “Arton you had better get here quick, your specialists have decided they are not going with us.”
They reached the bottom of the airstair just as Arton arrived.
“Is there a problem?” he asked as they stepped onto the tarmac.
“Is there anything about this mission of yours you didn’t tell us?” asked Guzzle. “Let me be more direct. I don’t remember any part of your briefing mentioning the use of a fully-charged tetratic sphere.”
Joe was stunned. Like most other boys, when he and Guzzle were young they were infatuated with military devices – tanks and fighters, bombs and long-range scanners. So, when their 8th grade teacher assigned the class a research project with the theme Unintended Consequences he and Guzzle prepared a poster board project showing the devastating consequences of Thenatria’s use of a tetratic sphere in their war with Nargusia.
The board had a time-line of the events, an expanded view of a sphere with all its components labeled, a description of how it was energized by being launched into space, and a chart indicating the incredible destructive power of a tetratic sphere compared to other explosive or incendiary devices. Joe was sure Guzzle wasn’t mistaken; they had spent weeks on that project. What he saw must have been a tetratic sphere, and that made Joe very uncomfortable.
“It’s for leverage,” said Arton. “If we’re discovered while inside the warehouse that tetratic sphere gives us bargaining power. Either they let us finish and leave with our people, without incident, or we leave a fully-charged and armed tetratic sphere hidden in the facility. These are not government people we’re dealing with Guzzle. The bodies and prints in that facility represent assets to them, they represent a steady cash flow – either the families pay the ransom fees or their loved ones get terminated.”
“They know an explosion at their facility is the type of news that travels fast, and as soon as people find out the warehouse has been destroyed, the payments will stop. Their income will dry up, and there will be nothing left to prevent families from hiring mercenaries and seeking retribution. That sphere gives us bargaining options.”
“You would leave an armed tetratic sphere behind and take a chance of destroying all those innocent people?”
“No, but they don’t know that, do they,” replied Arton. “If the facility is scanned while we’re inside the first thing they are going to notice is a fully-charged tetratic sphere. Hopefully, that will give us the upper hand and a big bargaining chip. Guzzle, we are experts at this sort of thing, you have to trust us. While you were inspecting the sphere, did you notice the two timers?”
“Yeah, I did. What’s that all about?”
“One of them is not wired to the detonator,” said Arton. “If they call our bluff we start the dummy timer so their scanners will pick it up. If they don’t back down, we leave. They will rush in and remove the sphere, disconnect the dummy timer, and when they do the real one automatically triggers a very short countdown.”
“The only guys at risk are the ones who victimized innocent people? I’m not opposed to that,” offered Joe. “What do you think Guzzle?”
Guzzle hesitated, then nodding his head said, “I think we don’t have much choice.”
“Then let’s get underway,” replied Arton. “Dex, start the pre-flight check, get everyone onboard; we’re airborne in five minutes.”
The jump fighter took to the air with no more than a whisper. Centorian engineers designed the fighter specifically for clandestine operations so it was extraordinarily quiet. The ship had slightly less power and was somewhat heavier than typical mid-range fighters owing to its extra baffling and shielding, but what it lacked in power it made up for in stealth.
As you might expect, military engineers also decided because the ship was going to be slightly slower it needed better guns. The cannons onboard were the latest in Caterinian military armament technology. No one else in the universe knows exactly how the technology works, but everyone in the universe knows it is foolhardy to confront a medium range Centorian stealth fighter.
That would be like fielding a squadron of swordsmen to conduct a frontal assault on a
Macedonian phalanx; Terra Bulgan history clearly indicates that didn’t work out very well for the swordsmen, or anyone else dim enough to approach a sea of shields and pikes head on.
The fighter pilot plotted the jump coordinants for Numaria and calculated an entry point high above the atmosphere several thousand miles east of their destination. Once the jump was completed he immediately brought the ship to a lower altitude where it would be much easier to avoid detection. They flew west slowly until they reached their landing zone which was located near a sparsely populated area.
Using the ship’s vertical thrusters, the pilot set it down along a stream in the eastern valley, on a large outcropping of plinth stone – a metamorphic rock that formed vast smooth slabs that looked like white marble countertops. The ship settled firmly on its outriggers and sat there with its doors closed. Inside the ship, Arton moved through the center aisle telling his team to grab some lunch from the galley. Near the rear of the first cabin Joe and Guzzle sat in their seats talking about what might lie ahead, and Joe used the time to tell Guzzle everything he knew about disambiguation, the fluid required, and the machinery used to complete the process.
“The team is getting lunch from the galley if you’re hungry,” offered Arton as he approached them.
“I imagined we would be off quickly,” replied Joe, “so we don’t get noticed.”
“We’re waiting on security codes for the warehouse,” replied Arton, “we were supposed to receive them this morning but so far we’ve got nothing. We’ll eat lunch, recheck our equipment, and hopefully by then we can disembark and make our way to the facility.”
They had finished lunch and all the equipment was checked and ready. Two hours later they still had not received the codes. Guzzle was getting a little anxious, but Joe was busy making mental notes about what he would do and when he would do it once they were inside the Zin Charr’s facility. The rest of the team acted unconcerned, like this sort of thing happened all the time; it was a testament to their experience.
Arton was making his way through the aisle again, visiting with his team members and asking about their families. He was a seasoned leader and could read people. He knew when they were strong and when they were struggling, and he knew how to support and encourage his team at exactly the right time. When he reached the rear of the compartment he knew immediately something needed to be done.
“Guzzle, let’s get off this ship and get some fresh air.” He reached up and grabbed an intercom and told the pilot to lower one of the airstairs. “Joe, we’re going for a breath of fresh air, you want to come?”
“Sure, a walk and some fresh air would be great,” answered Joe.
Arton strapped a weapon to his waist and started down the stairs. Guzzle and Joe followed, and when they reached the bottom, the three men walked down the great slab of stone toward the stream.
“There is something wrong isn’t there, Arton?” asked Guzzle when they reached the stream bank.
“I should have had the security codes by now,” admitted Arton. “I hate to speculate but our informant may have been intercepted,” he finished and looked at his watch. No sooner than he checked the time a Numarian Scout drone went screaming by overhead. “Get on the ship, get on the ship,” yelled Arton.
They bounded up the stairs into the fighter as another Scout drone made a pass overhead and Arton picked up the com. “Any word?” he asked the pilot.
“No,” came the reply. “I reported the Scout drone and, hold on, Arton, I’m getting sparked... He’s on the com,” said the pilot to the caller, “I’ll patch him in. Arton, you have a call.”
Arton listened to the caller relate the mission status and asked for confirmation. “That’s right, we’ve been here a little over three hours.” He listened again and replied, “Okay,” and hung up the com. “Listen up everyone,” he yelled in the direction of the cockpit, “we are wheels up in five minutes.”
“We’re leaving?” asked Joe.
“We don’t have the new codes yet, and we’ve been on the ground too long; we’re going to abort.”
“You can’t do that,” yelled Guzzle as he stepped toward Arton.
“I didn’t make the call. We would rather come back than have a foiled attempt that exposes our involvement,” replied Arton.
“Then we are going without you,” said Joe forcefully.
“That’s suicide.”
“That’s your opinion,” said Guzzle.
“Without the codes you won’t be able to open the door from the inside without triggering the alarm. If you are caught, you know what they will do to you,” replied Arton.
“What, handcuff me and put me in a holding room? You don’t think that will stop me, do you?” asked Guzzle
“What about Joe?” asked Arton.
“I can get out of any room they put me in and I’ll find Joe and get him out too. Once I’m inside, if I need to, I’ll hack into their computer system for his door code; I’m very good at that.”
Guzzle and Joe grabbed their packs and went to the airstair. “Tell him to drop it,” said Guzzle, “we’re grabbing the rest of our stuff and getting off.”
“What’s going on back here?” asked Dex who had been in the cockpit.
“They want off,” said Arton matter-of-factly.
“You can’t force us to stay,” interjected Joe, “we’re going on with or without you.”
“Look, I know how you feel, but that’s not a good idea, how about...”
“I’ll go,” said Dex. “Call it in and get approval. I’ll go with them.”
Arton had known Dex for a long time and could tell from the look on his face he wouldn’t be deterred without being overridden by Arton and the mission commander. Within three minutes, Dex had retrieved his gear and was accompanying Guzzle and Joe down the stairs. They ran to a stand of trees about fifty meters away and watched as the fighter lifted straight up off the ground, turned one hundred eighty degrees and rocketed toward the sky.
“Thanks, Dex,” said Joe watching the last bit of the fighter before it disappeared. “We’re pretty good technicians, but our fighting skills aren’t all that great.”
“These might help with that,” he said and handed each of them a small weapon. “Don’t let the size fool you. These babies pack some serious firepower,” he said showing them his own small weapon. “Now, what’s your plan?” asked Dex.
“Let’s find someplace to hole up tonight and at first light we can make our way to the facility,” responded Guzzle. “Once we’re hidden, we can discuss the details of how we proceed.”
“The warehouse facility is east of here,” said Dex, “why don’t we follow this tree line that direction while we have some light?”
Just before dark they made the top of a hill and saw the warehouse about a thirty-minute walk away. Making their way down the side of the hill, Guzzle spied what looked like a cave only fifty meters away. It would be the perfect place to overnight. They carefully traversed the side of the hill, staying out of the open by moving from one stand of trees to another, and finally ducked into the cave.
As they moved away from the narrow opening toward the back of the cave, it became wide and nearly thirty meters tall. All around them was the faint glimmer of light coming from phosphorescent algae growing on the walls.
“No need to light a torch in here,” remarked Joe.
Guzzle and Dex were standing next to him looking at the strange algae. Behind them, there was a soft sound like tissue papers being slowly pulled through the cellophane on their cardboard dispenser. Dex turned quickly but froze in the middle of his twisting motion. Joe whipped around and stopped suddenly.
Guzzle put his back against the wall just in time to see several large shapes descending from the ceiling on smooth silvery strands. He glanced sideways and noticed Joe and Dex each had a strange pleased look on their face, and a tentacle stuck to the side of their head.
CHAPTER TEN
JOINING FORCES
Someone w
alking along the creek might have noticed six bicycles carefully stowed under a stand of trees nearby. A single moment later they would have observed six people materializing out of thin air in a semi-circle around the bikes. Nita briefly glanced up at the Lactropodectopoi cave, fixing it with her eyes like there was more to be gleaned from them if she could just concentrate hard enough. No one spoke as Wayne unloaded a backpack and passed everyone a bottle of water. They drank quietly waiting for Nita to give them a sign she was ready to leave.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” said Nita to no one in particular, “it was quite a surprise really, to find that out about my dad and brother.”
Blackie was the first to respond, “Nita, I can’t imagine what a shock that must have been.”
“We should go back to town; we have to turn in the bikes,” replied Nita, shifting the topic as if she wanted to avoid a discussion. Then, only seconds later she added, “Do you think we can get to Numaria?”
“We should try to go there first thing,” said Joules immediately. “We don’t have to advertise our intentions when we arrive, we can just scope out the place.”
“What intentions?” asked Nita.
“To get your father and brother back,” replied Mark.
“Do you think we could do that?” asked Nita.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” replied Amelia. “We make a pretty good team. I say we give it a shot.”
“It’s getting late. We need to get back before sundown to return the bikes and we have a lot to talk about,” said Wayne. “We need a plan, and we need to talk about how we’re going to convince Anonoi to take us to Numaria and not Gafcon-49.”
“Leave that to me,” said Joules, “I’ve already got that worked out.”
They mounted their bikes and started the journey back to town, intermittently making comments about their visit to the cave, and before long they were at the park and had returned the bicycles.
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