by Dale Olausen
“Good call, Coryn,” Dav’s voice came over the channel. “Get Sarah, and the Stones, if she has them, to Kordea—yesterday, if possible. We’ll handle things here.”
Steph jumped for the pilot seat without further arguments. He swallowed his disappointment about the ambush which would certainly have been an interesting, if harrowing, event! A fellow didn’t get many chances to go face to face with The Organization Hounds!
The Camin was airborne within seconds. Steph closed the voice channel connecting them to the Explorers’ communicators.
“The Organization troops are trained soldiers,” he said tightly, as they sped to where the girl lay, the animal right beside her. “The Explorers are brave, but they don’t stand a chance in a firefight!”
“I know,” Coryn replied, his voice and expression grim. “It can’t be helped, though, and Dav knows it. We’ll call for Ranger help for them as soon as we’re on our way. If only it won’t be too late! But, we have to get the girl away! That’s why we’re here!”
*****
The Explorers turned their attention towards The Organization ship, which, fortunately, was in the opposite direction from where Sarah lay motionless. Before Rieve had time to scamper back to where Dav’s group was, they had returned to the three flyers and took to the air. Flyers such as theirs, were fairly useless as war machines, but the Explorers managed to direct laser fire through opened windows at the ship as they overflew it, to land on the springy ground close by. From there, they were able to do slightly more damage, enough, at least, to get the attention of whoever had been left to mind the ship. He, or she, must have alerted the Hounds in the tunnels, for they came pouring out of there suddenly, firing their weapons into the air in great haste and confusion.
Rieve, left alone among the scree, watched the Camin cover the distance to Sarah, and drop a net to pick her and her companion up. The vessel sped off vertically, even while the net with its prize was drawn into its innards. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that. Now at least, if the girl had any life left in her, she had a chance!
He turned his binoculars back to the action in the other direction. The Hounds were hurrying towards their ship and the flyers, while apparently trying to regroup into an orderly unit at the same time. The man in the lead was shouting something urgently into his communicator unit!
“Dav, get your fliers the hell into the air again,” Rieve snarled into his communicator. “The Camin’s off with Sarah, and the Hounds are coming for you!”
It was too late. A heavy, grey smoke had begun to pour from vents built into The Organization ship exterior, on the side that the flyers were on. A mind, or a computer, was directing it into the smaller vessels through the open windows; Rieve could imagine the coughing going on. He hoped the hell that it was not a deadly gas, but only one designed to subdue an enemy who was wanted alive.
“They’ll want to know about Sarah,” he muttered to himself. “So they’ll most likely want them – us - alive.”
He began to hoof it in the direction where the Beth was sitting, defenceless, manned only by Cherrie, Kitte, of Jasson’s crew, who had been left to mind the child, and Roger Delmen.
*****
During the trek back to the Beth, Rieve stopped often to train his binoculars on the events happening around The Organization Wanderer, and then at the Beth, as things moved there. Once the grey smoke had begun to dissipate from the flyers, the hounds hauled out blowers from their ship to get rid of it, confident, apparently, that they had nothing to fear from the Explorers, for the time being. Three of The Organization troops entered the flyers, then, apparently to manoeuvre them, while the others returned to the Wanderer, which promptly took off, presumably in pursuit of the Camin. Rieve sighed to see that they considered that it would take no more than three of their number to subdue the Beth, recognizing at the same time that they had it right. The bulk of the Explorer personnel were comatose—he refused to entertain the idea that the Hounds might have killed his companions. Roger, Kitte, and Cherrie had no choice but to allow the troops in when they came knocking at the door; and even if he, Rieve, could have made it to the Beth before the Hounds did, his presence would not have made much difference. He would simply have to try to think of something that would help, since he was clearly the only one of Beth’s crew who had not been captured. He had to make that count for something!
*****
Dav came to, slowly. His throat felt raw—what the hell had the Hounds pumped at him and his crew while they had been in the flyers? Some kind of a gas, obviously, not a killing kind, thanks be. His hands were bound tightly in front of him with some kind of nasty tape, and he realized that he was lying on the floor of the Beth’s lounge. He looked around and met Ginette’s eyes; she lay next to him, bound the same way he was, and, apparently, having recently recovered her wits, as well.
“I’m sorry, dearheart,” he murmured to her. There seemed to be nothing else to say.
“I know,” she said, with a characteristic, crooked grin. “Me, too. But what we did had to be done. Cherrie’s okay. They locked her in her sleeping quarters.”
Dav nodded, gratefully. He took stock of the situation in the lounge. Everyone but Cherrie and Rieve were present, all bound as he and Ginette were, at wrists and ankles. All except Roger and Kitte were struggling from under the effects of the gas. As far as he could tell, nobody was badly injured – yet, anyway.
A tall, middle-aged man in a grey uniform walked into the lounge, followed by two of his kind, but younger and less commanding.
“Hah! The brave Explorer ship captain awakes!” he jeered at Castilo. “It’s indeed an honour to meet a heroic idiot!”
So, he had taken the trouble to find out who had been in charge of the Beth. Funny how normal he looked. But, and Dav sighed to himself, that meant nothing.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Commander Cal Javron, of The Neotsarian Forces.
Neotsarian? Dav realized that he had had no idea what The Organization people called themselves.
“You managed to manoeuvre things so that the little ship got away with the girl and the Witches’ Stones, brave Castilo.” The Commander sneered.
“It wasn’t just you, though. The white creatures in the tunnels threw us off our stride. They died for their trouble, most of them.”
Javron’s smile was sarcastic.
“As for the girl and the amartos, our ship has got the word out by now and the chase is on. Your Agency comrades are fools if they think that they have the slightest chance of reaching Kordea, to hide the prize among the skirts of the Crones.”
Dav looked at Javron and his two companions. Was that all of them on the Beth? They were arrogant bastards to think that only three of them could keep the Beth under their control! Well, maybe they could, what with all the Explorers securely tied up and divested of their weapons! Damn! He had to think of something!
“What do you plan to do with us?” he asked.
“How about we deal,” Javron responded, raising his eyebrows. “I know that you Explorers are tough as nails, and resourceful, almost beyond belief. We Neotsarians admire you. And I don’t believe for a moment that you let all the Stones go with the Agents; you must have a stash in some lead-lined hidey-hole on this ship. You’ve been on this planet for a while; you really expect me to believe that you’ll leave it empty-handed? No, you’ve got a stash, and I’ll trade your lives for it, if you’re willing to deal.”
Castilo did not trust the man for a moment. The Organization cared nothing for the Explorers. Explorer ships had strayed into their sphere of influence, occasionally, and had simply disappeared. Likely, even if the Beth’s crew had Witches’ Stones to try to trade for their lives, they’d get shot in the back as soon as Javron had the booty. But was there some way he could use the man’s misconception for the benefit of the crew?
“We don’t have any Stones, and if we did, you’re the last people in the galaxy who would ever get them,” Kary snarled from her spot on th
e floor.
Commander Javron looked down at her with a pitying smile.
“A firebrand female Explorer,” he snickered. “You could use a little bit of Neotsarian lessoning.”
“Leave the fool woman alone, Javron.” It was Roger who spoke, to Castilo’s surprise. “If the Explorers won’t deal, I will. You must know that I’m not a member of this crew, and I’m not enough of a fool to be willing to die to hide a bunch of pretty gems, no matter how much they might fetch on Mallora Central Market.”
“Are you claiming to know where the Stones are hidden, Biologist Delmen?” Javron asked “I gather from looking at the Beth’s logs that you’re not the most popular person aboard the ship. Why would anyone tell you anything?”
Roger smirked at him. For once, Castilo found his smirk energizing rather than annoying. What was Delmen up to? Could he join Roger’s game and save at least a portion of his crew from a nasty end?
“Course they didn’t tell me anything,” Roger declared. “They didn’t have to. Do you think I’m stupid, Commander Javron? You wouldn’t be the first person to make that mistake. I know where they’ve hidden the Stones, and if you untie me, I can lead you directly to the stash.”
The Commander’s eyebrows rose. The other two Hounds looked interested, too.
“An interesting proposition. I suppose that behind the engine’s heavy lead shielding would be the logical place to hide amartos. They’d be undetectable there. Am I right?”
Roger smirked again.
“Yours is a logical supposition, but wrong. Probably, once we would have left, that’s where the Stones would have gone for the trip. But in the meantime, you mentioned a lead-lined box—and a lead-lined box is what holds them. Outside, in a lovely little crevasse where the ledge meets the mountain side and there are a lot of rocks.”
“Damn, you bastard, Roger!” Kary shouted. “I hope you rot in hell!”
Dav remained poker faced. Delmen smirked once more; this time at Kary. Then he turned towards Javron again
“If you would let me have one of the Beth’s communicators,” he said, sounding unctuous. “And give one to Captain Castilo—or pin one on him somewhere where he can speak into it, if you don’t trust him loose. The lock on the box needs to be activated by his voice, and only he knows the number sequence needed.”
Castilo was beginning to get a glimmering of Roger’s plan. There were problems with it, yes, but maybe between the two of them, Roger and him, plus Rieve who must by now be lurking somewhere outside the ship, they could save most of the crew, if not themselves. It was worth a shot, and Kary’s nonsense was helping.
Commander Javron nodded at one of his men.
“Get a couple of the communicators we took from them in the flyers. Pin one on the brave Captain, while Jiggs and I release the lunk of a planet-born. Then you’ll stay with the Captain while we go with Delmen to this hiding place that he seems to know about. Keep your weapon trained on the Captain, but make sure that the channel on his communicator is open.”
*****
Rieve had made sure to stay far enough away from the Beth that her sensors could not pick up his presence, even while he prowled about, trying to think of something to do to help his crewmates. When the hatch opened to let out the threesome, he immediately trained his binoculars on them, and when he realized that Roger - Roger! - was coming out, closely monitored by two Hounds, and clearly clutching a communicator in one hand - he was, in fact making quite a display of the communicator - he switched on the one he himself was still wearing. He gave a quick tap on his transmitter, hoping Roger would pick up the brief signal, while the others would think it only a slight, random variation in background static. In return, he detected a brief change in the squelch on his communicator. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
“The box of Witches’ Stones is over that way,” he heard the Biologist say to his companions, pointing towards some jumbled rocks where the cliff met the ledge, a short walk from the Beth.
What? Rieve remembered having seen Roger surreptitiously make his way to that very area a few times, either in the morning or the evening. He had figured that Roger was hiding something there, but he certainly didn’t think it was amartos. He crept closer in slow motion, aware that he ought to be able to get reasonably near the threesome without alerting the Beth’s sensors - or the one Hound who still had to be inside. He would be within stunner range, he realized; if he dared to use his weapon. Doing so might start a bloodbath inside the Beth, though, since the crew would still be the prisoners of the remaining Organization soldier in there.
“Is that the box?” a voice he did not recognize was asking on the communicator. “It doesn’t look big enough for a lead-lined strong-box. Are you pulling my leg, Delmen?”
“Think whatever you want to,” Roger snapped. “That’s it. Amartos don’t take up much room, do they now? But suit yourself.”
“Well, let’s hear the brave Captain speak the code and see what happens,” the other voice said. “Otherwise we’ll have to take the whole thing with us.”
“And blow yourselves to Kingdom come,” laughed Roger. “You think the Explorers aren’t smart enough to booby-trap the box?
“Speak the sequence for us, please, Captain Castilo.”
Dav’s voice came over the communicator, reciting a litany of numbers. When he was done, for few moments silence reigned.
“It’s not working,” the stranger’s voice said, an edge of anger creeping into the tone.
“You’ll have to have your man bring him here,” Roger stated flatly. “I guess the communicator doesn’t transmit his voiceprint well enough.”
“Roxel, undo the brave Captain’s ankles and haul him out here. This shouldn’t take long, and everyone else is securely tied up in there. If this is a joke, we’ll just kill both the Captain and the fat fool out here. Move it! I want those Stones, so these idiots better stop stalling!”
Rieve moved into stunner range. He had a ray gun hanging on his belt, too, but using that when his Captain was standing next to the targets did not seem like a sensible idea. Besides, he might be able to get three stun shots away before any of his opponents could kill their hostages; he was not nearly as practiced a shot with the more lethal weapon. An Explorer normally had no need to be a killer.
The hound named Roxel shepherded a shuffling Castilo out of the Beth and over the rocks on the ledge to where Roger and the other two Organization men were waiting. With a sinking heart, Rieve noted that the oldest of the Hounds kept his weapon almost touching Roger’s neck.
“Rieve, stun them! Now!”
It was Roger’s voice, and Rieve obeyed it as surely as he would have, had it been Castilo speaking! He got the one holding a gun on Castilo before he could pull his trigger, and the man beside him immediately afterwards. The one holding the gun on Roger took a split-second longer, and even though the Biologist whacked a powerful arm down on the hand holding the laser pistol on him, the weapon discharged into his upper body, burning an ugly hole there.
Rieve rushed to the spot, only to have Castilo grab his stunner with one of his bound hands.
“Go to the Beth, untie Jaff and bring him here with his kit,” the Captain said to him. “I’m sure I can manage to quiet down any of these three, should they not be stunned well-enough, even with my hands as they are.”
“I’ll bring a knife for the tape,” Rieve said, and headed to do as told.
*****
Jaff bent down to examine Roger where he lay among rocks. He was still alive, but there was no real hope for him, the medic realized. He could read the pain on his face.
“All I can do,” he said, “is give him a pain-killer.”
Roger struggled to speak.
“Tell my family,” he whispered, while Jaff leaned close to hear. “Tell them that I found a final gamble to make, here, at the end of the galaxy, and they couldn’t stop me with their do-goody ways. I lost, but that’s okay - sometimes a gambler loses.”
/>
“You won, too, Roger,” Jaff contradicted him. “You won an Explorer ship crew’s freedom. And the life of a little girl who hasn’t had a chance to see much of the galaxy yet.”
“Yeah, Cherrie’s life almost makes it worthwhile.” Roger tried for a smile but said no more, and Jaff knew that he was drifting off on the pain-killer, never to wake again.
*****
“What was in that box anyway?” Ginette asked somewhat later, when all the crewmembers had been released from tape, and Cherrie had been let out from her prison.
“His drug stash,” Dav replied. “I looked inside and closed it up again, right away. He must have spent some serious coin in Trahea Trade City; gave me the creeps to just glance at the stuff.”
“It explains a few things, though,” Jaff said. “There was ‘tiger-dust’ in there, among other things. That’s probably what he had indulged in, the afternoon when Sarah went missing. ‘Tiger dust’ can induce aggressive, psychotic behaviour in its user, for a short time. A person turns into a horror story for a couple of hours, but afterwards there’s no sign of it, at all. And the user doesn’t quite understand what happened; he doesn’t remember what he did, only how powerful it made him feel.”
“We’ll bury the box with him,” sighed Dav. “That seems like the most appropriate thing to do. And we’ll send copies of the communicator logs to his family on Mallora; they deserve to know that he died saving a shipful of people who never truly appreciated him.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Camin had quickly gained orbit, and was heading away from the planet. They now had time to examine their freight.
"Well, I'll be damned! Just look at the fish that we caught!"
Coryn Leigh and Steph Clennan stared in open-mouthed amazement at the contents of the net that they had hauled inside the Camin's living space. A huge, green furred cat gazed back at them out of its uncanny eyes. Beside it lay a wasted, protecto-suited body of a human being, limp and apparently lifeless.