As the hatch opened and a ramp descended, Jerick did his best to keep his worries off his face.
He strode forward, looking for someone in command and definitely not looking at all the rifles pointing at them. A few of the men shifted those rifles away when they saw the woman in Jerick’s arms. More did not. They simply moved their aim higher, toward his head instead of his chest.
The helmets made it hard to tell if there were any familiar faces, people who’d served on the ship at the same time as Jerick and Cortez had. He was sure a lot of personnel had been moved around after the war, with many others quitting altogether, either having had enough of the military or simply being asked to leave, since the fleet had downsized.
He did spot an armored figure standing near the base of the ramp that was smaller than most of the others. The person held a box-and-plate scanner. Was that Lieutenant Varma?
“Over here,” came a voice from near the doorway.
A man in a regular black uniform stood there, having apparently decided he could risk being in the shuttle bay without armor if he stood close to the exit and could fling himself outside if combat broke out. The voice sounded familiar, and Jerick grimaced when he identified the man. Lieutenant Spaulding, a self-important security officer with a photography hobby. Ever since he’d sold a few photos to Space Nature magazine, he’d thought he was some hoity toity artist who would get rich, buy a small moon, and retire early from the military.
If Jerick hadn’t had to deal with him, he would have gloated that Spaulding was still in the service and apparently moon-less.
The crowd of men parted to make a pathway to the lieutenant and the exit.
“Is that Lieutenant Sasaki?” a woman asked as Jerick walked down the ramp. It was the soldier with the scanner, and now that he heard her speak, Jerick recognized her as Lieutenant Varma.
“Uh, maybe?” Jerick paused. He hadn’t expected Keiko to be recognized. “She found me so charming that she invited me to use her first name. Keiko.”
“Charming, right,” someone muttered. “That’s why he had to club her over the head before bringing her out here.”
“What happened to her?” Varma asked, sounding worried.
“We had a difference of opinion. It seemed easier to knock her out than force her out the hatch to Falconer’s wolves.”
“Wolves? We’re fleet. Why would she—”
“Over here, now,” Spaulding ordered. “Sergeants, make sure he doesn’t get lost along the way.”
Jerick strode past Varma, relieved for the excuse to do so. He hadn’t thought through Cortez’s suggestion to knock out Keiko, such as how to explain the reason for it. Telling the enemy that he didn’t want her to rat them out didn’t seem like it would get him far.
As Jerick stopped in front of Spaulding, the lieutenant sneered briefly, then leaned around him to order, “Nakum, Varma, get us a scan of the interior. You shout if you run into any trouble.”
Jerick kept his face neutral and resisted the urge to crane his neck back to watch. “Here I am, Lieutenant,” he said. “Heroically bringing the hostages to the fleet.”
“We had to drag you here with our tow beam.”
“I was heroically dragged.”
“Thrasher, Olatunji, take the women. Captain wants to question them.”
Two armored men stepped forward, and Jerick tensed. One gripped Skylar's arm more firmly than he deemed necessary. The other held out his arms, glowering through his faceplate at Jerick.
“Does the captain want to question me?” Jerick was reluctant to release Keiko—mostly because Skylar would be taken away then too—but he reminded himself that they wanted the women to be safely away before the battle began.
“No.” Spaulding’s lips curved in an unfriendly smile.
The soldier in front of Jerick stepped forward and slid his arms under Keiko, making it clear he would take her by force if he needed to. Jerick’s primal instincts urged him to challenge the man, to see if his armor would serve him as well as Jerick’s cyborg implants served him, but he quashed the thought. Keiko might be hurt if they tussled over her.
The man hoisted her over his shoulder with all the dignity of a sack of potatoes and tramped into the corridor. The soldier gripping Skylar's arm nudged her, and she walked in the same direction. Jerick gazed after her, wishing she would look back and blow him a kiss or share a torn expression full of emotion. Of course, she could not. Not with a platoon of infantry soldiers looking on.
An uneasy feeling spread through his body, a concern that he might not see her again.
“What about him?” a soldier asked.
“Take him to the brig,” Spaulding said. “Where criminals belong.”
“Yes, sir.”
Two armored soldiers gripped Jerick by either arm, pushing him toward the door. Again, he thought about fighting them, but again, there seemed nothing to be gained. Better that he go with them and remove two men from those Cortez and the others would have to battle.
As he was taken out, he cast a long look back toward the shuttle. The engineer and her comrade had disappeared inside, but no alarm had sounded yet. It was only a matter of time. Tek Tek’s hand-waving wouldn’t befuddle a physical scanner.
As Jerick turned into the corridor, the shuttle disappearing from sight, he couldn’t help but worry that the three of them were being parted. Was this truly a good idea? Or should they have stayed in the prison and dealt with whatever the warship—all the warships—sent their way? At least then, they would have been together.
16
Cortez listened to the faint ring of boots coming up the ramp. He’d heard most of the conversation in the shuttle bay and knew Jerick was being dragged off to the brig while Skylar and Keiko were heading up to be questioned by Falconer.
He’d been tempted to order his men to charge out right then, but with only five of his team in combat armor—ill-fitting combat armor that had belonged to other men—he didn’t want to take the risk. If they had to fight now, it would be better done from inside the shuttle, as he’d told the others.
He did raise his wristcomp to his lips and whisper, “Two coming in and forty on guard in the bay, Pip. Be ready.”
“Always ready, sir.”
Cortez lowered his arm and didn’t say anything else. One of those people sounded like Lieutenant Varma, and she would have augmented hearing too.
He crossed his fingers, hoping she would be the one to peer into the lavatory. He hadn’t recognized the name of the second soldier Spaulding had ordered into the shuttle. Too bad. He knew some of the names he’d heard. Maybe it was illogical, but he still believed his connections here might help him, especially the two cyborgs still aboard.
“Searching the back first?” a man asked.
The lavatory was almost directly across the aisle from the hatch, so Cortez had no trouble hearing him or telling where he was.
“I’ll handle it, Sarge,” Varma said. “I’ve got the fancy detector, after all. It’s for more than beating enlisted men into shape.”
“Ha ha. I can detect with my eyes.”
“I’m sure they won’t be out in plain sight. If they’ve got an engineer on their team, they probably had him make some secret crannies to hide in. Like smugglers.”
“I don’t think you can smuggle cyborgs,” the sergeant said. “They’re big.”
“I’m not that big.”
“Please, you’ve got bigger guns than I do.”
A click sounded, followed by an electronic warbling. Her scanner being turned on.
“I’m going to assume you’re referencing your biceps and not anything… lower.”
“I’ve only got one lower gun, ma’am. I’m not a mutant.”
“That’s a relief.”
The easy banter surprised Cortez. Did they not truly expect to find anyone inside? Maybe Jerick’s ruse had worked better than Cortez had expected it would.
The lavatory door opened, the automatic light came on, and a famili
ar bronze-skinned face peered in, her high cheekbones and warm brown eyes visible through the faceplate. Those eyes widened as she saw Cortez standing there, pointing a stunner at her chest. For all the good it would do when she was in full combat armor.
She opened her mouth, a question on her lips, but Cortez shook his head. This close, the sergeant was sure to hear even whispers. He pressed the hand holding the stunner to his heart and bowed his head slightly, as if he were some knight of old saluting her. He hoped it would convey that he needed a favor from her and also that he didn’t intend to hurt the crew even though he wanted to take over the ship. Maybe he should have pressed his palms together in more of a pleading prayer position.
“Got anything, LT?” the sergeant asked.
Cortez shook his head again, slowly, gravely.
“Just that it’s disgusting in here,” Varma said, backing out. She looked like she wanted to say, “Don’t make me regret this,” or something of that ilk to Cortez, but she didn’t. She shut the door, and the light, no longer detecting motion, went out. “Guess these older model shuttles don’t have self-cleaning lavs,” she added to the sergeant.
“Ew.”
Well, that ought to ensure the sergeant wasn’t eager to look in. If not and if the man stuck his head inside, Cortez would have to do more than wave a stunner and bow. He imagined yanking in an armored soldier and grappling with him while trying not to make any noise. That would prove interesting.
Varma whistled as she strode down the aisle to the cargo area in the back. Occasionally, her detector warbled. Maybe she silenced the alert, because after a minute, Cortez stopped hearing it. He did continue to hear the sergeant shuffling and sighing near the hatch. Mutters and sighs drifted in from the soldiers in the bay too. They seemed tinged with disappointment.
Were they that eager for a battle? Maybe they wanted to avenge the soldiers Cortez’s team had pummeled in Antioch’s shuttle bay. They didn’t have any way to know those men were still alive, that Cortez had ordered them disarmed, dis-armored, and locked in cells. How convenient that the asteroid had come with so many cells in which to deposit people.
“Nothing back here,” Varma said, ambling up the aisle toward the hatch.
“Huh, guess the captain was wrong,” the sergeant said. “I figured the prisoner was telling the truth. If he’d had a secret strike team aboard, why would he have been trying his damnedest to get to the wormhole?”
“Yeah. Let me check the front.”
“The captain said he knew Cortez, though. That he’s shifty. You served with him, didn’t you, ma’am?”
“I did.”
“Did you ever guess he’d go crazy like this?”
“No, but I’m not as surprised as you might think. I’ve followed the articles he’s published, urging the government to put more care into rehabilitating the cyborg soldiers—all soldiers—that fought in the war. Heard he was lobbying in the Hall of Politics too. Guess he got tired of being ignored.”
“Yeah, but these are criminals, ma’am. Men who killed innocent people. They’re not just veterans having a hard time fitting in.”
“Guess so.” Varma returned to the hatch and called out, “All clear, Spaulding.”
“Is it? Damn. I was hoping they’d be good enough to come to us and that we could deal with them here.”
“That would be foolish,” Varma said, and Cortez recognized the dig for what it was. “They’ve got a whole asteroid to hide in. Why would they wander outside where they’re more vulnerable?”
“True. It’s going to be hell to pry them out of that rock. Unless we just nuke the whole thing. Falconer suggested that to the admiral. I suppose that wouldn’t fly, though, what with the staff still being there.”
“Suppose not. Prying the cyborgs out of there will give your men something to do, right? There hasn’t been this much excitement since the war.”
“Be glad. The war was awful.”
“Tell me about it,” Varma said so softly that Cortez almost missed it.
As the pair shut the hatch, he wondered what nightmares haunted her these days. She hadn’t seen as much battle as most of the men, since she’d been one of the rare officers given implants who had skills other than beating up enemies, but they’d all seen a lot and endured a lot, even those who had never left the ship. Cortez had lost track of all the times the Black Star had been boarded by hostile aliens. It was a marvel the fleet hadn’t decided to decommission it after all the repairs it had received. He didn’t feel that bad about trying to capture it to fly it off into Hostile Space. Though, if he managed to succeed, he still envisioned himself finding some work out there, whether as a mercenary or freighter captain, to try and eventually send the money it was worth back to Earth. He felt he had the right to take the cyborgs out of prison, to spare men’s lives, but the ship was a far more dubious thing to take when it came to questions of morality.
“Which is exactly what you should be considering while standing in a lav by yourself,” he mumbled.
“Sir?” came a whisper over his wristcomp. “They didn’t seem to detect us.”
“No, Pip, but stay put. We want the soldiers to clear out of the shuttle bay, relax and take off their armor, and forget about us. Then we can go out and put Dr. Russo’s gas to use and claim the ship for ourselves.”
“Yes, sir. Looking forward to walking the Star’s corridors again.” Pip’s voice grew wistful as he added, “Be the first thing to go right in three years.”
Cortez smiled sadly. Pip had been the first to sign on for this crazy plan. He hadn’t committed any crimes, but he’d been working by himself in the only job, according to him, he was suited for anymore. He’d been minding a fire watch tower on Taurus Solo, his only contact with other humans coming when a pilot brought supplies in via a helicopter once a month. After the chaos and carnage of the Battle of Last Song, he’d been too uncomfortable in crowds and too quick to jump at noises to navigate normal society, or so he’d told Cortez. He’d settled noticeably once he’d been in a uniform again and had orders to follow, as if they gave him the structure he needed to work with others.
“We’ll get her, and then we’ll find a better life,” Cortez whispered, though Jerick’s reference to Of Mice and Men came disturbingly to mind. He hoped he wasn’t like George, talking about how they’d get their own farm one day.
“Yes, sir. How long do we need to wait?”
“A while still.” Cortez could hear men filing out of the shuttle, but it would take them a while to relax, and he was sure some would remain on guard out there. He worried about Skylar and Jerick, and he hoped they would simply be held, not anything worse, but he couldn’t know, especially in Jerick’s case. “But not too long a while,” he added, and started drumming his fingers on his thigh.
Skylar frowned when the soldier thrust her into a chair in a conference room with more force than necessary, certain she would have a bruised butt later. She didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know his strength in his armor or if she was being treated poorly because of guilt by association. If it was the former, she couldn’t help but compare him to Cortez and Jerick—even with their superior strength, they had never hurt her. If it was the latter… she was in trouble.
Was it possible the fleet already knew she had been assisting the cyborgs instead of fighting? That she’d lied on the shuttle about knowing if there was a strike team aboard? She couldn’t guess how they would know unless there had been a spy on the asteroid transmitting information.
Or a spy drone, she amended, remembering the hovering device she and Jerick had destroyed. Just because it had been in the armory when they walked in didn’t mean that was the only place it had been.
She blushed, remembering her first time pinned between Jerick and Cortez in sickbay, letting them remove her clothing, then writhing and moaning as they touched her in all the right places. What if the fleet had somehow spied on that?
The soldier that had carried Keiko up to the conference roo
m deposited her in the hard chair next to Skylar's, eliciting a semi-conscious groan from her. Keiko’s head tipped forward onto the table. After making sure she wouldn’t fall over onto the deck, the soldier left her like that.
Skylar eyed her warily. She hadn’t given Keiko a large dose of the sedative, but now she wondered if that had been a mistake. She and Keiko had been stuck together a lot over the last few days, but she highly doubted the woman would act like an ally and keep her mouth shut if Skylar lied openly in regard to the cyborgs.
The armored men left, but two other soldiers remained in the room. They stood in guard positions to either side of the lone door, their rifles cradled in their arms. Skylar felt far more like a prisoner about to be interrogated than a rescued hostage. Surely, hostages should be given food, water, and medical treatment, not butt bruises.
The door slid open, and Captain Falconer strode in flanked by a young lieutenant with a tablet. Skylar had seen Falconer on the comm video, but he was shorter than she expected with a slender frame and fine bones. She’d noted that his nostrils had a tendency to flare impressively when he’d been speaking to Jerick, and could see them twitching now, ready to relay his displeasure.
“It’s a relief to see you, Captain.” Skylar forced a smile. A hostage should truly be relieved to be recovered. “Thank you for coming to our defense. That prisoner was just as bad as the other cyborgs. He said he was rescuing us.”
“Heroically, yes,” Falconer said. “I heard.”
Keiko stirred again, laying her hands on the table and pushing her head up. Skylar vowed to be careful with everything else she said.
Unchained_ A science fiction romance adventure Page 19