by Andria Stone
The distance to the end looked like thirty feet, with one more corner at the end before descending to the Med Lab level.
To his left, an older man stepped out a doorway. Before he could close the door, Axel shoved him back inside. He was the captain. Tall for an Indian, with black hair and a full beard, who seemed oddly resigned to the situation.
“Where’s your first officer?”
“On the bridge.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’ve just finished dinner.” He waved at a tray with covered plates on his table.
Axel backed up, lifted the cover, passed his arm scanner over the food. It didn’t smell appetizing. The word “fish” appeared in his readout.
“Comm your XO. Tell him the fish gave you indigestion. You’ll be up when you feel better. Word for word.”
The captain followed Axel’s orders to the letter.
He pointed to the captain's vid screen. “Are your transmissions monitored from the bridge, or anywhere else on this ship?”
“I cannot say, as I have never been on this ship before. I was on holiday in Mumbai when I was approached with an offer of a substantial sum for only a quick trip to Mars, no questions asked.”
“Very well.” Axel zapped him with a heavy dose of the stun baton. He laid the captain on the bed while sending another message to Sorayne.
***
Beth Coulter stopped at her cabin for a few of her more exotic medical supplies. She hadn’t expected Mark to be so damned stubborn. Something new to hate about him. He just needed the appropriate incentive: his research, for someone else’s life. The soldier taken prisoner with Mark wasn’t a relative, but he’d have to suffice. Dismembering the man in front of Mark would ensure he gave her the correct data this time. On her way back to Med Lab, she commed Krupic with orders to have the prisoner there when she arrived. No reason to draw this out.
She peered around the opening. The room was empty, except for Mark, who lay unconscious on the center pod. Frustration mounting, she commed Krupic again and learned the prisoner had escaped.
“No…” She screamed, ranting obscenities in several languages. Blinded by rage, she grabbed a scalpel from her bag, and slashed at Mark’s thigh.
He awoke with terror in his eyes, stared at the blood oozing from two slits in his pants. “You bitch—you crazy bitch…” He roared like a wounded beast, straining to get off the pod and attack her.
Startled, she involuntarily backed away.
Krupic appeared at the door, hesitated while assessing the situation. “The prisoner is in armor. He killed four of my men.” He held up fingers to emphasize the number. “Three more are in coma.”
“What? Don’t blame me. You brought him aboard.”
“He is expert. In armor, he can kill every person on ship. One by one.
“You have weapons. Kill him first.”
“Our weapons not good against armor. We have grenades, yes, but they blow hole in ship.”
“Then you must get him to surrender. Threaten to kill Warren—this one here.”
He summoned his last two men. The final trace of conscience passed over Krupic’s face as he touched his comm again, “TMD soldier Scarlotti. Warren is in Med Lab. You surrender. Or he dies.”
“I’m warning you,” she said. “They better get here before he does.”
She turned back to Mark, sneering. “Bitch, you say? Shame on you. I thought you were brought up better than that.”
“I was taught not to call women names. That doesn’t apply to you. Because you’re not one.”
“If I were a man, I’d be called strong, decisive, persistent, goal-oriented…”
“No, Coulter. You’re a homicidal, power-hungry, vicious, grotesque, short, fat, malignant cancer. You’re not even human.”
Incensed, she ran at him again, scalpel held high, ready to strike.
Krupic thrust his rifle barrel between them, warding off her assault.
“Get out of my way,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“If you kill him, the soldier never surrenders. We all die.”
Still enraged, she rummaged through her chemicals for an ultra-toxic nerve agent, plus another dose of MX-3, the Truth Serum. With extreme care, she inserted each vial into an injector. Her anger was out of control. She knew it. Mark had a perverse talent for goading her. No one else had ever spoken to her in that manner.
Two of Krupic’s men burst into the room. She blanched. They wouldn’t last long—too young and expendable—fresh meat for the TMD killing machine.
Beth took a position on the far side of Mark, both injectors in hand, above his heart.
Krupic posted a man next to Mark, while he and the other one flanked the doorway, waiting for the soldier’s arrival.
“For this to work, I threaten to kill Mark if he doesn’t cooperate, but you must get the soldier out of armor and tied down.”
“When he sees you have injured this one, soldier thinks you mean to kill Warren, either way.”
She hurried around the Lab, using towels to mop up the rivulets of blood dripping onto the floor. To stem the flow, she smeared surgical adhesive on both cuts.
“Not much of a nurse, are you?” Mark continued taunting her. “Your bedside manner sucks. You’re no more a doctor than your hired lackeys. Do they know what happened to your last bunch of mercenaries? All dead—every single one. I saw them blown to bits by the TMD.”
“Shut up, you imbecile.” Beth looked around, powerless to escape the looks of distrust and hostility growing on the faces of the only protectors she had left.
“You want my research, so I can’t be the imbecile here. You on the other hand…”
Returning to Mark’s left side, she pulled the two injectors out of her pockets, holding them inches above his heart. She glared down at the object of her contempt. “One kills you. One shuts you up. Your choice.”
Suddenly, the young mercenary across from her sailed into the air like an acrobat, then flew backward against the wall, fell with a thud.
Everyone watched it happen. What followed was the unmistakable stench of scorched flesh.
Mark let out a low rumbling laugh. “One down. Three to go.” He winked at her.
Chapter 24
As the others recovered from the startling death of the young mercenary, Mark worked to loosen the restraints. Although his pod was perpendicular to the doorway, he’d been so preoccupied with trying to distract his captors that he hadn’t kept an eye on the entrance. With Axel’s stealth, Mark might not have seen him anyway. He no longer had any moral qualms about neutralizing his enemies; all these people fit into that category.
“Mikhail…” shrieked the other young mercenary as he turned away from the door.
“No,” Krupic barked. “Stay put.”
The kid ignored Krupic, abandoning his post, running around the back side to check on his friend.
Mark picked up a faint vibration just before another invisible cloud of burnt flesh filled the air.
Krupic circled back in the opposite direction to the spot where both bodies lay in a heap. Staying clear of the pathway to the door, he nudged them with his rifle barrel, to no avail. Neither one moved or made a sound.
Mentally Mark felt elated, physically he was exhausted. Words were his only weapons. He’d keep using them as long as he could. “Two down. Two to go.”
Coulter and Krupic were on different sides of the room, with Mark in the middle.
Mark yelled, “She’s on your right—he’s to the left.”
The mercenary aimed his rifle at Mark’s leg. “Soldier, surrender, or I shoot your man’s kneecap in three seconds. If you do not, I shoot the other kneecap. One…Two…Thr—”
A giant figure in gray armor appeared in clear view: Mirrored faceplate down. Rifles strapped to each arm. A mean as hell looking badass, intended to strike terror into the souls of his enemies.
Krupic stepped closer to Mark until the muzzle of his rifle touched the kneecap
in question.
Mark’s elation evaporated. His heart sank to the lowest point since his father had been attacked. He wanted to keep his kneecap, but not at the expense of Axel giving in to Krupic’s demands. Now they were both prisoners.
Coulter had been hiding behind his pod. She stood now, positioning the injectors over his chest. “I have two injectors. One with a nerve agent, the other with a paralytic. Remove your armor, or he gets both.”
Axel began unwinding the straps around his left arm to remove the rifle, repeating the process on his right arm.
Mark hated watching Axel yield—sacrificing himself—to a psychopath and her hired gunman. Guilt and remorse would choke him to death sooner than anything Coulter had planned.
After lifting his faceplate, he moved away from the entrance, unfastened each segment with precise movements—almost as if stalling, or delaying the inevitable—before stepping out of the armor. In uniform, he was no less an imposing sight; taller, younger, powerful, full of coiled energy.
“Get him tied down.”
Krupic hesitated to withdraw the rifle from Mark’s knee. “Lay down there.” He motioned to a duplicate pod across the room. “Strap one hand down.”
Axel backed away, not taking his eyes off Coulter or Krupic, sending his two targets an ‘I-could-kill-you-with-my-bare-hands’ glare. He reached around, felt for the pod. Easing one leg over the corner, he half sat with one leg still on the floor. He smiled at the mercenary, beckoning with his index finger. “You do it.”
Mark remembered him making the same move on Luna when he was egging on the thugs.
In half a second, Krupic had swung his rifle around to Axel and fired, hitting him in the leg. Axel growled, grabbed his leg, falling forward off the pod onto the floor. Krupic fired again, hitting him in the arm.
Mark was stunned. His mind went blank.
“I will kill your dog, piece by piece,” Krupic said, without a trace of emotion.
In the same tone, Coulter said, “Give me what I want, Mark, or watch him bleed out.”
He felt light headed, cold and clammy. The sound of his own heartbeat pounded in his ears, while Axel lay bleeding on the floor. Krupic was going to kill his friend, leaving Coulter to kill him.
Mark closed his eyes, summoning all the strength he had left, pulling at the restraints. To his surprise, the left one gave way. Almost. He focused on the right side, wrenching with every single ounce of force he could muster. Thread stripped off the screws. The metal brackets separated as his fist lifted off the pod’s surface.
***
Axel was in pain; a feeling he recognized like an old enemy, something fought in the past and overcome. Cheating death did have its limits, but he wasn’t dead, yet. With his eyes closed to bare slits, he tried to monitor the activity between the three people above him. His captors were arguing, paying no attention to either he or Mark.
A slight movement caught his attention. Mark’s forearm moved an inch or so off the pod. The metal looked fatigued, twisted, as though the screws no longer held it together. If Mark got loose—they might have a chance.
The ship’s PA system buzzed in Med Lab. A male voice spoke: “Madam Coulter, we are being hailed by your BioKlon ship. Their captain wishes to speak with you.”
“Oh, what now?” She took a couple of steps to the wall. Slipping the injectors in her pocket, she pressed a button and responded, “Why?”
“He didn’t say. Do you wish to take this in your cabin?”
“No, transfer it to me here.”
“Very well, transferring, go ahead BioKlon…”
“Madam Coulter, this is Captain Yilmaz. We have a problem. After leaving the Space Station, we were…detained—by a Terran Space Command warship. I was informed the docking and departure codes you gave us were counterfeit. They’re waiting for us back at the Station. They say I cannot return to Terra until this matter is settled. We have the Station’s Deputy Consul aboard to take your statement. We must dock with the Star of Jaipur, so Miss Sorayne can notarize your deposition.”
When Axel heard “Sorayne” his pulse increased. He glanced at Mark for confirmation. He blinked. Yes.
“Is this really necessary? Can’t we do it on vid?”
“Madam, I have a family back on Terra, so I’m following Space Command’s orders.”
“Where are you and how long will it take you to reach us?”
“At present speed, we’ll reach you in ten minutes. We’ve already sent docking coordinates to your captain. Yilmaz out.”
Axel had one last move to make. The timing had to be perfect.
Coulter paused.
Axel bent into a fetal position, snatched the knife out of his boot with his one good arm, then threw it into Krupic’s back. It pierced his left lung.
At that defining moment, every movement was reduced to slow motion.
Mark sat up. He yanked at the straps. Both his arms broke free of the restraints, sending pieces of metal flying through the air.
Krupic recovered from the shock. Furious, he looked back over his shoulder at Axel, still on the floor: an easy target. He turned facing Axel.
Mark grabbed the knife hidden in his boot, threw his arm wide, slashing Krupic across the right jugular.
A stream of blood spurted out a few feet.
Mark ducked.
Krupic’s knees buckled. He fell.
Coulter was sliding down the wall, trying to hide.
Mark caught sight of her. He threw the knife at her midsection. It landed up to the hilt.
Axel watched her drop the last few inches, hitting the floor with a “splot” noise. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small “O.”
Everything returned to normal speed.
“Finito,” Axel said in a raspy voice.
Mark shook his head. “I’m not done.”
“Well, you’d better hurry. The cavalry’s coming.”
***
Mark’s ribs made it difficult to bend over and relieve the dead mercenary of his rifle. He shot the two restraints off his ankles, flexing his legs before trying to stand on them. He took a few steps, limping from the cuts to his leg, accompanied by a good deal of discomfort in his ribs now that he was moving around. He knelt in the widening puddle of Axel’s blood, propped him up against the pod. “Are there meds in that armor like the one you had?”
“Yes. Seam on the left bicep.”
Mark stumbled over to the armor, found the hidden pocket, withdrew the envelope, then bought it to Axel.
He ripped the package open with his teeth, jabbed the syringe into his thigh. “Hand me a rifle. Then go.”
Mark gave him the weapon. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Axel smiled, happy, drugged and hugging the rifle like a baby. “Looking forward to seeing that colonel again. She’s hot as hell.”
Mark went to Coulter, checked her pulse. Still alive—excellent. He remembered doing the same thing when Axel had carried her back into their lab. He’d been worried about her then. He was ashamed of himself for ever having had those feelings. Too late. In the past. He’d fix all that now. Mark fished in her pockets for the two injectors. He identified the paralytic and gave her a small amount. “A taste of your own medicine, bitch.”
He went to the armor, opened it, and stepped in backwards. It closed around him. He sealed it from the bottom up, looking at Axel, making sure he did it right. As he picked up the helmet, Mark straightened, gave the best salute of his military career to Axel, then simply said, “Friend.” He slipped the helmet on, picked up Coulter, tucked her under his left arm, and limped out.
Behind him, he heard Axel say, “Wait…Mark?”
Upon their arrival to the Star of Jaipur, he’d memorized the way to the Med Lab, in case he needed to retrace the path. Every so often Mark looked back to make sure no one was following them. He noticed Coulter was leaking body fluids. He continued through the passageways, holding on to her with a vice-like grip. He limped through it, leaving a streaked trail o
f blood. He hadn’t seen a single person. Strange.
The suit’s bio-monitoring system sensed his injured physical condition. It adjusted an oxygen-rich air supply that helped clear his mind.
“Coulter, I need to explain a few thing to you, before it’s too late.” He put her down beside the hatchway of the airlock chamber. He gazed at the keypad, flipped the helmet’s faceplate down. Voilà. Fingerprint residue glowed a dim green on several numbers. All he had to do was figure out the correct sequence. He thumbed the faceplate back up. After the fifth combination, the keypad blinked. He turned the wheel and lifted the lever, pulling the heavy door open. He dragged her inside the ten-by-ten chamber, securing the door behind them.
“The first one is: I don’t pretend to understand the universe. For as long as humans have been on Terra, we’ve only seen an infinitesimal bit with our own eyes. What I do know, is that morality is part of our genetic makeup. In my heart, I know there is justice. I don’t always have faith my fellow humans can decide on the righteous path justice should take against evil. And you are evil. Personified.”
Two jet packs were encased in the wall. Following the posted instructions, he took one out, stepped into it, drawing up the straps, and attaching them to the shoulder and chest harness. Once everything was secure, he scanned the procedures for operating its controls. Okay—good to go.
He checked Coulter again. She had a pulse. Her eyes were tracking him. To her, it must have seemed like forever. In reality, only a few minutes had passed.
He grabbed a railing along the wall, and took a knee in front of her, noticing the trickle of blood oozing down her abdomen between her legs onto the floor. She looked pallid. “The second one is, I’ve decided to space you.”
Her eyes grew enormous. She looked as if she might be pleading with him not to go through with it.
“My brother, Eric Warren, was on the Europa Mission. I’m going to offer your sacrifice as a gift to all 152 murdered souls. They will watch your journey to hell for the rest of eternity. If need be, I’ll follow you to hell myself, just to make sure you get there.”