Lockdown (Fugitive Marines Book 3)

by David Ryker

  “Well, here we are again,” said Bishop. “This is what lockup is like, honey.”

  “I’m guessing you had light in prison,” Ellie replied.

  “And it probably wasn’t muggier than Satan’s asshole, either,” Gloom muttered.

  “I apologize for that,” said a voice in the darkness, sending a sudden blast of adrenaline through Quinn’s gut. A moment later, light sliced through a crack in the floor, revealing a trap door that creaked in the relative quiet of the container.

  It took Quinn’s eyes a few seconds to adjust to the glare, and while they did, someone climbed out of the trap door and stood in front of him. When he finally had his full vision back, Quinn still blinked in disbelief at what his eyes were telling him.

  He was looking at a handsome man, approximately his own age and height, with a thick head of chestnut brown hair.

  “Captain Quinn,” said the man. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “What the fook…?” Maggott breathed from behind him.

  “You know this guy?” asked Ulysses.

  “Everyone knows this guy,” said Ben, his eyes wide. “Or at least they used to.”

  The man chuckled and reached out to shake Ulysses’ hand. “Any friend of these men is a friend of mine.”

  “I’m Ulysses Coker, who the hell are you?”

  “Well, you certainly don’t beat around the bush,” the man said with a grin that Quinn knew could put just about anyone at ease.

  Anyone who hadn’t seen him kidnapped by a man wearing his own face, that is.

  “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Coker,” the man said. “My name is Frank King.”

  7

  The commlink chime from Oscar Bloom’s private number was what the Kergan half of the entity referred to as a “buzz kill.”

  Still, Kergan knew he couldn’t avoid it. He’d expected the call as a matter of course, even required it to a degree for intelligence gathering. But it was still annoying to be drawn out of his preparations for Dr. Toomey’s arrival to deal with it. That said, the intrigue and skullduggery the call would require was exciting.

  Soonest begun, soonest done, he thought, so he transferred the bulk of his consciousness to Sean Farrell’s body, which had been sitting in the office for days waiting for the call, and strode over to the commlink to answer.

  A moment later, Bloom’s handsome visage filled the holographic orb projected by the device.

  “Mr. Bloom,” he said amiably. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Bloom’s expression was just a shade below disdainful. “Good God, man, you’re really letting yourself go. Did you run out of razors?”

  Kergan felt a jab of adrenaline, which he usually enjoyed, but not this time. He hadn’t bothered shaving since the riot. It was a pointless distraction, though he’d noticed that the lack of it had resulted in a considerable amount of prickly hair on the legs of the handful of female drones when he was mating with them.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said. “Unfortunately, we’re still waiting on that supply ship you sent. I decided to ration any supplies that aren’t absolutely necessary, since the scheduled ship was called back.”

  Bloom’s glare made Kergan wonder whether the man believed him. Intrigue. So much fun!

  “Speaking of the supply ship,” said Bloom. “I assume you monitor the network out there?”

  And there it was. Now the cat-and-mouse game would begin in earnest.

  “Of course,” he said. “I see some interesting things have happened recently.”

  “Don’t be coy,” Bloom snapped. “If you saw the video, you know what happened to that ship. The man with the glasses is a Dr. Toomey. I put him in charge of the supply ship before I realized what was happening. He stole the Raft that Quinn and his people stole and brought back to Earth, along with my daughter.”

  “So Ms. Bloom is safe?” Kergan said with exaggerated concern. “Oh, thank heaven! I was so worried about her. I know what those men are capable of better than most.”

  “Mm,” Bloom grunted. “Anyway, he stole the ship and took off for your station. Did you know that Raft had been modified by people at your end?”

  Kergan was silent for a moment before answering. He’d expected a form of that question, of course—the Jarhead had reached Earth in half the time it usually took, thanks to Sloane’s tinkering with the technology.

  “Sir, I need to confess something,” he said.

  Bloom’s eyes widened in expectation. “Go ahead.”

  “Well, you see, one of our engineering techs was working on upgrades to the ships before the riot, without my knowledge or sanction. It appears he somehow increased the efficiency of the engine on that particular Raft before it was stolen.”

  “And you didn’t feel the need to tell me this before?”

  He shrugged. “To be honest, sir, I was embarrassed that it had happened on my watch. I assumed you’d take possession of it once they landed and have your people examine it. It’s SkyLode property, after all.”

  “Well, obviously, that’s not what happened.”

  Here was his opening. “What did happen, sir? The video alluded to something about an alien invasion here on Oberon One?” He gave his head a dismissive shake. “Obviously that’s complete nonsense. Quinn and his friends will say anything to cover up the truth about their breakout and all the destruction they caused.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Bloom. “But as the video showed, apparently Toomey still felt the need to steal the ship and come see Oberon for himself. I need to warn you about him.”

  Kergan leaned forward and propped Farrell’s elbows on his knees. This was interesting.

  “Warn me? I don’t understand. I thought he was simply a scientist.”

  “So did I, but apparently he’s got a history of running black operations without government sanction. He’s a rogue, and a smart one at that.” Bloom scowled. “Much as I hate to admit it, Toomey may be the smartest man on Earth.”

  The fact that someone besides Toomey himself was confirming the doctor’s intelligence sent a thrill through Kergan. They were going to have so much fun together!

  “And yet he believes this ridiculous conspiracy theory about an alien invasion?” Kergan scoffed. “He may be intelligent, but it sounds like he’s not all there upstairs, if you’ll pardon my bluntness.”

  “Oh, of course,” said Bloom. “No one on Earth believed it, obviously. The online chatter has already started to die down. People will quickly move on to whatever the next fad turns out to be. I’ve let the government know that all is well on the station.”

  That was a flat-out lie, Kergan knew. He’d seen the messages and news reports on the network in the aftermath of Quinn’s video being broadcast. It was an annoyance, obviously, but at the same time, he had to give Quinn credit for being resourceful. He was proving to be a remarkable opponent.

  “Sir,” he said. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to Quinn and the others once you got your daughter away from them?”

  “They were put in custody immediately, which is where they’ll remain until they’re tried and convicted for their crimes.”

  “And returned to Oberon One for incarceration?” Kergan asked, knowing full well the station would be long gone before that happened, consumed by the invasion force that even now stood waiting for the Span receiver to be completed.

  “Uh, yes, I suppose. In any case, you need to take Toomey into custody the moment he docks at your station. Hold him there until we can determine how to return him, and don’t listen to his lies.”

  “Of course, sir. Your wish is my command.”

  “Good, good. And be careful. Toomey is a sneaky little shit.”

  Of that I have no doubt. “You can count on me, sir.”

  “Contact me as soon as he arrives. Bloom out.”

  The orb winked out of existence, leaving Kergan alone in the room with his thoughts in Farrell’s body. He walked it over to the sofa, laid down and opened his eyes again in what
he thought of as his own body on the station’s bridge.

  Drones buzzed around him, performing their tasks under his direction, in preparation for Toomey’s arrival. Through the eyes of the men he had on the surface, he could see the latest batch of the God Element being extracted from the walls of the tunnel under the craters created by the meteorites that had released him into this dimension. It wasn’t as much as he’d hoped, but he believed they would find more. Enough for their purposes, anyway.

  He sat in the chair that faced the monitors that showed him every aspect of the station, though for the most part, they were unnecessary, as he could see through the eyes of everyone on the station. Work was progressing well on the new project.

  Kergan knew that his fellow Gestalt members on the other side of the wormhole weren’t happy with the situation. They didn’t understand this brave new world he was exploring as a merged entity, and they were unhappy that he was focusing his energy and resources more on the device than on the wormhole generator. But he understood what needed to be done in a way the others couldn’t. He knew Quinn would come back, and he knew he had to be ready for him.

  That meant he needed this device, and he needed Toomey to help him make it work. In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been his best idea to kill Kevin Sloane, and the scientific imagination that he brought with him. But the past was the past, and Toomey brought with him a whole new dynamic for the future.

  And that future could begin as soon as the device—an upgrade to the attenuation amplifier he’d used to take over everyone on board Oberon One in a single moment—had wiped out all opposition before it even started. Its range would be almost a million kilometers farther than the original, which meant that anyone who approached the station would be instantly under Kergan’s control. Forever.

  He hoped with all his might that it would be Quinn and his people who were the first to arrive. There was a score to be settled.

  “Shit,” Bloom muttered. “It’s true.”

  Farrell’s face had disappeared from Drake’s commlink orb, leaving only Oscar Bloom’s. Drake had been monitoring the call from a secure commlink in his office.

  “So it would seem,” he said. “That story about their engineering tech upgrading that ship to the point where it could double its speed is preposterous.”

  “Which means Farrell, or Kergan, or whoever, isn’t all that bright.”

  “And that he doesn’t know that we know what’s going on there.” Drake tapped his wrist device.

  “Who are you messaging?”

  Shit. Forgot he could see me.

  “Scheduling a meeting with the other tribunes,” Drake lied. “Now that we know Quinn’s story is true, or at least the part about the aliens taking over Oberon One, we need to start addressing the situation. That means bringing in the government.”

  “Fine,” Bloom sighed. “I was hoping we could keep them out of it, but I guess that’s not an option anymore.”

  “I’ll do what I can to keep them away from Quinn and the others, and to keep the discussion off Astana. Get them to focus on the assault we need to mount on that station, the weapons we’ll need, the ships, the soldiers.”

  “Good. Obviously, whatever Toomey left in his lab is yours for the taking. Spoils of war. I’ve already destroyed any evidence linking him to me.”

  “I hope it’s enough. We know the ship Toomey stole is faster than anything we’ve got, which gives him and the aliens a considerable head start. At least we’ll have the element of surprise.”

  “Mm.”

  “Problem?” Drake asked. “You should be happy; your role in this is over for now.”

  “The problem is that now I have to admit that my daughter was right about everything.” Bloom sighed. “That’s not going to be a fun conversation.”

  Drake managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

  “I’ll keep you apprised of things as needed,” he said. “Until then, obviously, keep this all quiet.”

  “Whatever,” Bloom said dismissively. “Before you hang up, what are you doing with my Chelsea? I haven’t heard from her since she stormed out of here.”

  “She and the rest of them are in custody, in government housing close to the capital buildings. She’s safe.”

  “She better be,” said Bloom. The warning in his voice was unmistakeable.

  Drake ended the call without another word. Now that Bloom couldn’t see him, he looked at his wrist display once again. No answer yet to his message, but that was to be expected. And really, the message had simply been to confirm that his contact had been right, about almost everything.

  That gave Drake more faith in the plan they were putting together, though there were still too many potential pitfalls for his liking. But that was the nature of what they did: the risk was always commensurate with the reward.

  His wrist chimed, and a moment later the face of the militia major Drake had left in charge of the team guarding Quinn and his crew appeared on the monitor there. The look on the man’s face did not inspire confidence.

  “Report,” Drake said tersely.

  “Sir!” the man shouted. “Uh, I, uh, have news, sir!”

  Fucking militia men, Drake groaned inwardly. But he’d had no choice—if his own special forces troops had been seen around the building, it would have drawn suspicion, and no doubt media attention.

  “Just spit it out, man!”

  “Uh, it’s Quinn, sir. I mean, it’s not Quinn. Or the others.”

  “Get to the fucking point!”

  “They’re not here!” the major blurted. “The cameras went out, and when we got them working again, everyone was gone! Sir, they escaped!”

  Drake almost dropped the nitro spray on its journey from his breast pocket to his mouth. It was going to be one of those weeks.

  8

  “Obviously, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

  King flicked on the light as a door creaked open, illuminating an apartment that shouldn’t have been there. It was about the same size as the one that had been assigned to Quinn, but without windows.

  “Where are we?” Quinn asked. King had led them down a steep staircase under the shipping container, then down a dark hallway.

  “This hill isn’t really a hill,” said King. “It’s my base of operations. This apartment is part of it. There’s also a parking garage with an opening at the base of the hill. That’s where we store the airship that my people used to pick you up.”

  “Pick us up?” Gloom asked, her arms folded over her chest. “That’s an interesting euphemism for abducting at gunpoint, don’t you think?”

  “Hear, hear,” said Chelsea. “I didn’t appreciate having fifty thousand volts suddenly rushing through my body. Your people could have at least bought me a drink first.”

  King smiled. “I regret that, but I knew Mr. Quinn and his men wouldn’t come quietly; it’s not in their nature. And, of course, it’s not like my people could have told you what was happening. It was risky enough as it was, knocking out the cameras the way they did.” He turned to Quinn. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take the blame for that when you get back. As far as anyone is concerned, that was you people staging a breakout from your quarters.”

  He motioned for them all to take a seat, which they did.

  “I don’t understand,” said Quinn. “Who are your ‘people’? How did you survive? What is this place?”

  “All good questions,” said King, taking a seat directly across from him. “None of which I can answer right now, I’m sorry to say, for a number of reasons.”

  “So why are we here?” Gloom demanded.

  “Show some respect,” said Ben. “Mr. King was—I mean is—a great man. His strategy and diplomacy helped end the Trilateral War. He was on track to be the first UFT tribune before he was kidnapped.”

  “That’s why he was kidnapped,” said Bishop. “That much I’m sure of.”

  “You’re right about that, Mr. Bishop, but I’m not going
to say any more about it now.” King turned to Ben. “I’m a big fan, Mr. Kenya.”

  Quinn thought he could actually see Ben’s chest swell with pride at being recognized by someone he obviously thought of as a hero.

  “It’s uh, Ben, sir. Ben Jakande. Foster Kenya is just a pseudonym.”

  “Ben, then,” said King. “But to answer your question, young lady, the viral video you posted is the reason you’re all here. I don’t know most of you, but these four men—” He gestured to the Jarheads. “I know them, and they’re some of the most honorable people I’ve ever met. So when they said that there was an alien threat to the human race, I believed them.”

  “I’m glad someone does,” said Schuster.

  “I take it you’ve had some resistance?”

  “How did you know where we were?” asked Quinn, ignoring King’s question.

  “I have sources inside all three factions of the government, Mr. Quinn. Your situation is likely worse than you know.”

  “How so?”

  “You may believe that being in Drake’s hands isn’t ideal, but it’s actually the best you could hope for right now. The tribunes from the Allied States and the Indus Alliance both think the video was a political stunt of some sort, and they’re frantically trying to convince their Congress members and senators of that. Everyone is pointing fingers at everyone else. Drake is actually shielding you from them, for now at least.”

  “Drake is on our side?” said Maggott. “That’s hard t’believe, if ye don’t mind me sayin’ so, sir.”

  “He’s the lesser of the evils, at least as far as I can see right now,” said King. “Can you give me more details? I want to help you with this. Obviously it’s the top priority facing the planet, despite what everyone else wants to think.”

  “It’s a long story,” said Quinn.

  “Best get started, then, because we have to get you back and dropped off before anyone starts looking for you. Otherwise, my people run the risk of being exposed, and that could lead back to me.”