Pandora

by Joshua Grant

“Guess that means he’s still there,” Konesco said through gritted teeth. His one hope of finding the keycard was armed, and apparently a little trigger happy. His day just kept getting better and better.

  Olga huddled against the slot machine. The cartoon beavers on its screen danced mockingly at her. “I didn’t see where the shots came from.” She smoothed a length of her sweaty dark hair from her forehead. “He fired at us. Why would he shoot at us?”

  Because he’s smarter than you.

  “I don’t know, let’s ask him,” Konesco suggested instead. “You circle around the left. I’ll go right. Stay low. This one knows what he’s doing.”

  Olga nodded. She crouched, ready to make her move. Konesco squeezed off two wild rounds into the ceiling and like a greyhound Olga shot off towards another row of slots. The crewman’s shots echoed his, but they were far too late and Olga was far too fast. The casino would need to reupholster their carpet though.

  If this was indeed a greyhound race, Konesco intended to be the winning hound. It wouldn’t do to have Olga getting wind of what was really going on here. The business of Dr. Pittinger finding the journal page was unfortunate enough. Information had to be controlled and used sparingly at the right moments in order to yield the best results. That’s why when Aubrey wasn’t looking he slipped the rest of Captain Sepella’s journal that he recovered from the ready room desk into his vest pocket. He’d only had seconds to look at it then, just enough time to realize that several pages had been torn out.

  That meant there was more loose information out there just waiting to be found, and uncontrolled information was unpredictable and dangerous. As was a living record of what had transpired on this ship. The kid was one thing. People never believed wild stories from kids. A respected crewman, on the other hand, was one nasty loose end. Fortunately, Konesco was very good at tying those up, even in critically botched missions like this one.

  He fired one more round into the ceiling, all he could spare with such short supply—damn you Mackenzie—and darted to the right. He belly slid smoothly under one of the craps tables. Had this been normal times, probably a dozen security guards would have been upon him already. Things being what they were, he pulled off the maneuver unobstructed. Not even the stray crewman fired at him. Out of ammo, or out of the room?

  For all their sakes, it better have been the first one. Konesco army-crawled over thousands of dollars’ worth of discarded chips, the small plastic credits jingling under his squirming body. My lucky day.

  He snaked around the base of a kidney shaped blackjack table and eased himself back to his feet. Once more, the room had fallen back to the dull roar of a dozen machines vying for his attention and, more importantly, his money. He strained his ears to pick through the white noise. Something chinked just up ahead around a bank of slots.

  Jackpot.

  Konesco rushed forward, bringing his rifle to bear—

  --on nothing.

  “Don’t move asshole!”

  Konesco realized his mistake only too late. Before him lay a roulette table, the wheel spinning, a small white sphere cranking wildly over the twirling digits. The source of the jingling, and a rookie’s mistake. Somewhere to his left, Konesco saw movement. His quarry had a bead on him. The ball came to a clanking stop. Double zero. House takes all.

  Olga couldn’t be too far away now. Konesco would have to make his move soon or risk this whole operation, everything the Organization had built. He swiveled to face the crewman.

  “I said don’t move!”

  The battered crewman tightened his grip around the pistol’s trigger for emphasis. Judging from the insignia on what was left of his uniform, this was the third officer, Malcom Render. Konesco had made a point of studying all the ship’s senior staff. It may not have been Captain Sepella, but Konesco would say his odds of finding the card were improving drastically. He just had to survive the next sixty seconds.

  Malcom looked tired, more like exhausted. If half the reports from this ship were true, Konesco knew this man hadn’t slept in days. Who needed sleep when you were living in a nightmare? His once white uniform was stained in grime: blood—not all of it his—and darker fluids Konesco didn’t want to guess the origin of. This man had seen true evil, which made him extremely dangerous. One who sparred with Satan knew how to square off with lesser liars.

  Worse yet, Malcom had survived that evil for over a week. Konesco would have to be careful. And quick. Olga would be along soon. He intended for her to find the ship’s only corpse and it certainly wasn’t going to be his.

  He raised his hands away from his rifle. “Easy there partner,” he said in a flawless Southern accent. “US Coast Guard. We’re here to help.”

  Malcom’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t shoot. Progress.

  “You’re not one of them.”

  Konesco remained silent, feigning ignorance.

  Malcom lowered the gun, but only halfway. He didn’t trust Konesco fully. Smart chap. Konesco was beginning to like him. Too bad he had to kill him.

  “We had hoped for rescue, in the beginning. Some people wanted off so bad they just jumped.” Malcom faltered for a second, trying to blink away the memory of dozens of people falling to their deaths. Konesco tensed. This might be his only opportunity to take the man.

  Malcom suddenly levelled the pistol on Konesco’s face, fully alert. “I should have jumped too. Must’ve thought of it a dozen times. But people here needed me. So I stayed. And when they all died I stayed. ‘Cause you see Mr. Coast Guard, I’m a damned hero. Not like you. Not like the ones that jumped. We were responsible. We brought that damned—thing—aboard. And we’re gonna make sure it doesn’t get off. No survivors, just like it said.”

  Konesco forgot to mention that people that encountered the kind of evil this ship now harbored were also fucking nuts. He decided to play for time. Yeah, having to shoot Olga after she learned too much would be a setback, but not as much as catching a bullet himself.

  “We found a kid,” he stated plainly. “Are there more survivors on this ship? More people you’ve helped?”

  Malcom’s eyes suddenly went wide, the crazy fire in them blazing. Konesco had chosen the wrong tactic and Malcom was going to kill him!

  Double zeroes again! Shit!

  A tremor suddenly rippled through the ship. It punched through Konesco’s ankles, nearly toppling him sideways. Had he not been bracing himself to tackle Malcom, it would have. The third officer wasn’t so fortunate. He slammed sideways into a slot machine as the lights dimmed briefly, the shot intended for Konesco’s face finding the ten gallon hat of a slot machine cowboy instead.

  Somewhere, something had exploded and it saved Konesco’s life. Perhaps it was just coincidence, or maybe it was providence. He didn’t care. It was all the opportunity he needed.

  He lunged forward, smacking a fist into the off-balance man’s windpipe. Another shot went wild as he twisted Malcom’s gun bearing hand, sending him spiraling hard to the floor and simultaneously disarming him. Konesco stood over his fallen foe, slightly out of breath, turning the man’s liberated weapon on its owner.

  Malcom clutched his throat, coughing hard.

  “What was that?” Konesco taunted. Sure, there wasn’t much time. But there was always time to educate one’s lessers in how pitiful and hopeless they were.

  “Fancy…moves for…a Coast Guard,” Malcom choked.

  Konesco fired a shot to his left, just in case Olga was getting any ideas about interrupting their little party. “Very observant Malcom. You’re very smart. So be intelligent and don’t lie to me. Where is the ship’s command keycard?”

  Malcom smiled and shook his head. “Overboard.”

  Konesco shoved his booted foot into the man’s gut. He wanted to shoot that smug grin off his face and keep on shooting until there was nothing left in his clip.

  But Konesco was a civilized man.

  He knelt down and put the tip of the gun against Malcom’s agonized face. “One more time
. I know it’s here somewhere. Someone has been making periodic course corrections, avoiding the prying eyes of ships and search planes and whatnot. Where?” He pressed the muzzle harder against the man’s cranium for emphasis.

  Malcom’s smile disappeared, but the fierce determination in his eyes remained. “Overboard.”

  Konesco gritted his teeth. He saw in red.

  Malcom continued. “They all jumped overboard. But I stayed. I stayed. In the presence of evil, I stayed, and it’s never gonna get off this ship. You’re never gonna—“

  Konesco silenced him with a clean shot just above his left eye. Double zeroes again. Damn.

  “Sir?” Olga called from behind the barrier of slot machines.

  He had almost forgotten about her. Perhaps it was time to change the betting strategy. “It’s clear,” he confirmed.

  Olga emerged from her cover. She joined him over the body of the late Malcom Render. Konesco quickly patted the corpse over but finding the card was indeed too much to hope for. He only recovered a small wallet photo of the man’s family.

  “Crazed?” Olga asked.

  “Out of his mind.” Konesco held the photo up for her to see. “Nice looking family though. It’ll be hard for them, losing their father like this.”

  Olga’s hard eyes softened. “Sir, you can’t blame yourself. He shot at us.”

  Konesco smiled inwardly. She was actually trying to comfort him. How little she knew! If their situation wasn’t so bleak, so pressing, he’d have a good laugh about it then and there. As it was, life didn’t have room for the little pleasures. She was about to get quite the education. “Yes, but family is so important. You and Sasha have a child, don’t you?”

  Konesco saw the confusion in the woman’s eyes, reveled in the power of knowing so much that she didn’t. “Yes. Our boy, Jura,” she said with uncertainty.

  Konesco gazed down on what was left of Malcom. “He had a son too. Parents will do anything to protect their children, wouldn’t you agree Olga?”

  Concern began to mount behind her eyes. “Sir?”

  Konesco smiled openly now. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he assured. “But Olga, there are two men sitting outside your home in Kiev, and you see, if they don’t hear from me periodically, well,” he glanced at Malcom’s cooling corpse, “losing a parent isn’t the only hardship a family can suffer.”

  Olga stared at him blankly. “What? What are you—“

  Her dark eyes went wide with realization that quickly boiled to fury. “You--you son of a bitch!”

  She surged forward, shoving him hard against the slot machines. She pressed the muzzle of her machine gun against his chin.

  “Careful Olga,” Konesco continued in a level voice. God he was enjoying this! “You wouldn’t want to damage your one hope of seeing your child again.”

  Olga’s eyes were furious—she wanted nothing more than to rip him apart—but the violence quickly melted out of them. She eased back, staring at him in wide-eyed shock. Konesco smoothed his vest over.

  He looked down at her heaving chest. “It’s too bad I only need one thing from you.”

  “Traitor!” she said weakly. “Why are you doing this? Saying these things? Why—“

  Her face curled into a sob. “Don’t let them touch my boy. These men. Don’t let them touch him, please.”

  Yes, I’ll keep their imaginary hands off him. Looks like we’re betting red. “That, my dear, depends entirely on you. We need to keep Jura safe. I need that keycard. Seems like a fair trade, eh old girl?”

  Olga looked like she was going to puke. The muscles in her tight jaw bulged. “And if I call your bluff and shoot you dead right here?”

  Konesco’s cold smile returned. “Then I guess it’s a gamble. And what better place for it? But Olga,” he let his smile fade, “only bet what you can afford to lose.”

  Konesco could actually see the color drain from her face. He had already won. He turned his back on her and began heading for the nearest atrium exit.

  “I suggest we split up. Cover more ground that way.” He stopped in the doorway and swiveled to face her. She hadn’t moved. Bitter tears streamed down her face. “Things might move along a bit faster if you get the others in on the action. Find that key and Jura will have nothing to worry about.”

  He went to move into the atrium but stopped. “Oh, and Olga,” her eyes sized him up with all the hatred they could muster, “I’d be discreet about our little deal. My men in front of your house, they’re very private people. It’d probably be best if dear Sasha was kept out of this clean arrangement. You know his temper. Find that keycard, and don’t forget, loose lips sink ships.”

  And with that he disappeared into the atrium. Perhaps fortune was finally tipping back in his favor.

  Chapter 13

  Deck 8, Bridge

  Aubrey watched the new addition to their team who in turn studied Mac intently with his vibrant green eyes. The tech worked diligently, removing panels from the conn station and tinkering with tools Aubrey could only guess the purpose of. No one wanted off this ship more than him and his desperation was beginning to show. She made a note to keep an eye on him. It wouldn’t do them any good if their only technology expert cracked in the first few hours of their expedition. The kid’s constant vigilance probably wasn’t helping.

  “What are you doing now?” he asked.

  “I’m—“ Mac bashed his head on the edge of the panel he was working under. “Dammit! I’m wondering why I would even bother explaining it to you Doogie Howser. You couldn’t possibly understand.”

  “I had a cellphone,” the kid protested innocently.

  Mac acted shocked. “A cellphone!? That’s almost as good as several degrees in robotics and technology from MIT and a few years’ experience in hacking. I think we have ourselves a programmer here! Aubrey, I think I’ll take my coffee break now. The kid has this.”

  “I had a Wii too,” the boy rebutted.

  “All boys have one of those. Would ya mind stop kicking me in mine?”

  The kid looked confused but decided not to let up. “If you guys were able to get onto this ship, why don’t we just take your helicopter or boat to get off? We really need to get off.” Aubrey detected the crack in his newfound positive demeanor. He was barely holding it together, like a vase glued with frosting sitting in the hot sun just waiting to shatter.

  “Sure, be my guest. It’s about twenty thousand leagues under the sea back that way. Chewie, plug the professor into the back.”

  The boy opened his mouth to speak again but Aubrey stepped in. “Hey, why don’t we try to find out where we are on the map?”

  She slid an arm around his shoulders and guided him over to the navigation table. With power restored, the panel of light was illuminated again, although it blinked derisively on occasion. The transparent map atop it was of the ship’s original course. No help there. It gave her the excuse to talk to the kid alone though without distracting Mac.

  And without him being able to fully hear, she thought sadly. She still didn’t know who to trust, other than the spiky headed boy who traced the lines on the map with his finger. The folded journal page in her pocket seemed to grow heavier.

  “You never told me your name you know.”

  The kid’s smudged face creased with worry. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  Aubrey smiled lightly. “Why would I do that?”

  The kid stared at her momentarily, and decided that he could trust her. “Because my name is Gabriel. It’s kind of a girly name.”

  Aubrey’s smile turned wry. “Wait, you’re a boy?”

  Gabriel shot a playfully knifing glare back at her and Aubrey knew she had finally found her purpose on this mission. No matter what, somehow, she was going to get this kid out of this hellhole. She would do what she failed to as a parent. She would save him.

  Aubrey swallowed hard and fought back against the sudden swell of emotion. She couldn’t lose it. Not now in front of the kid who badly
needed her to be strong. Like most people that were trying to hide their pain, she deflected through a question. “So do you prefer Gabriel, or Gabe?”

  Gabriel half smirked. “I usually go by Supreme Emperor, but you can call me whatever you like.”

  Aubrey’s smile widened. This is what she had been missing the past several years. Only now did she fully realize what sickness, death, and the resulting depression had robbed her of. “He’s a kid after your own heart Mac.”

  “Too bad I gave that away to a hooker in Singapore years ago,” the tech called from behind the panel he was working on.

  Gabe knitted his eyebrows. “What’s a hooker?”

  “Something obnoxious techs say to screw up nice kids,” Aubrey said quickly, surprised to find her cheeks flushing pink.

  “I heard that,” Mac called. “The kid told me he has a Wii. He knows what I’m talking about.”

  Aubrey decided to ignore him and, thankfully, so did Gabe. He continued to study her in that strange, intense way. This must have been quite the ordeal for him. She never ceased to be amazed at what kids could endure and snap back from. Sickness and death, though unbelievably tough, weren’t game enders for kids like they were for adults. Some kids could just stay positive right up to the very end.

  Aubrey’s smile faltered just a little. “You remind me of someone, you know.”

  Gabe raised a brow. “It’s not a girl, is it?”

  Aubrey’s smile instantly regained its vitality. “No, just the bravest person I ever met.”

  Gabe looked at her thoughtfully. “You remind me of someone too. She’s still looking for me.”

  Aubrey’s heart rate quickened. “Do you mean your mom? She’s still on this ship?”

  Gabe nodded, but for some reason he didn’t seem happy about it. “They’re all still here, almost everyone that got on this ship.”

  Aubrey blinked her surprise. That didn’t seem possible. They hadn’t seen a single soul yet other than Gabe and their mysterious hallway voyeur. There weren’t even bodies for that matter. “So there are more survivors other than you and that man we saw?”