“Glad to hear it,” Makkon said dryly.
“Also, Fleet originally thought that it could keep this a secret, that nobody flew out this way, so nobody would see the activity and wonder. Of course, it did not take long for someone to blab, and for pirates to start visiting us.” She looked at Makkon. “You were unprecedented.”
He didn’t respond. What did he think of this talk of engines? Did he care? Was he intrigued? Tamryn had no idea what his people wanted here, but whatever it was, might this be a better prize? At the least, he would have something more than personnel to barter with when the government showed up.
Tamryn rubbed her face, hoping they hadn’t just given him critical information, but afraid they had. Also, thanks to Anise’s drug-induced burbling, Tamryn had put enough pieces together to make some guesses as to Makkon’s heritage and his origins. The last time descendants of that wave of genetically altered humans from the ninth century had roamed the system, they had taken over a fleet of ships, several space stations, and three planets. They had been well on the way to ruling half of the system before they had been stopped. But supposedly, all of those people were long dead. So where had Makkon’s team come from?
“Where are these FTL engines now?” Makkon asked, stepping closer to Anise again.
“I told you; I don’t know.” She leaned toward him, threatening to topple off the stool again. “But I do have copies of schematics in the vault, as well as some pieces of hulls from one of their ships. The metal alloy is original and fascinating. And I’m making great progress on the language.” She hopped off her stool and planted her hands on his chest, beaming a smile into his face. “It’s very possible that the secret to building a faster-than-light engine is right here on this station!”
“Well, that explains the pirate activity,” Tamryn muttered, trying not to look at the way Anise was now leaning against Makkon’s chest, as if they were fast friends—or maybe more. It was stupid that it bothered her, and she fully acknowledged that, but it did bother her.
Just because it was annoying to see one of her people cozying up to the enemy and divulging all of their secrets, she told herself.
“Open the vault,” Makkon said. “Let’s see.”
“Oh, you’re interested in my work?” Anise’s smile grew even broader.
“Yes.”
“I’ll get it.” Anise turned toward the vault, but halted, facing back toward him. Tamryn hoped the drug had worn off and that she had realized she could not give valuable artifacts—and certainly not the seeds that could be germinated into a FTL drive—to terrorists. Unfortunately, what she asked had nothing to do with defiance. “Do you engage in intercourse with normal human beings, or do you only breed with your own people?”
Tamryn couldn’t help but cough—or sputter. Makkon’s reaction was subtler, though he did raise an eyebrow and look at Tamryn.
“Open the vault,” was all he said to Anise.
“Oh, very well.”
Anise strolled toward the back of the room, her hips swaying. Tamryn shook her head. She had never seen Anise walk that way.
“What on all the planets in the system is in that syringe?” Tamryn asked the question more to herself, not expecting Makkon to divulge any information or engage in a conversation with her, but he surprised her by answering.
“I’m not sure on the specifics, but it acts on the brain, inducing a feeling of trust by releasing oxytocin and a feeling of euphoria by stimulating your endorphins. Most of the sedative-based truth serums that are designed to slow reflexes and inhibit the judgment center of the brain don’t work effectively on my people.” Makkon gave her a guarded look.
Tamryn briefly wondered what he would be like under the influence of the drug, or maybe she was simply entertaining herself with the idea of stabbing him in the neck with a needle.
By now, Anise had dropped to her knees in front of the safe.
“Captain Porter,” Tamryn said, glancing at Makkon to see if he would silence her. “You said it yourself; it’s treason if you give these terrorists anything.”
“What?” Anise looked back over her shoulder. “No, he just wants to see. He’s interested in my work, and he’s a wonderful specimen.”
“He killed our commanding officer,” Tamryn said, willing her voice to drill through Anise’s happy neurotransmitters and into the reasoning scientific part of her mind. “He’s not wonderful.”
Makkon walked to Tamryn’s stool, his eyes cool. She thought he might grab her by the scruff of the neck again, but he merely loomed, his arm brushing her shoulder.
“If you want to be part of the questioning,” he said, “I have a needle for you.”
Tamryn should have called his bluff, should have kept trying to get through to Anise, but she doubted it would work—Anise had already opened the vault and was cheerfully pulling out items. Also, Tamryn didn’t want to be questioned. Granted, her family connections were fairly insignificant when compared to the promise of a prototype engine that could sprint circles around everything the Fleet had, but still, Grandfather had access to money enough that he could afford to give these terrorists whatever they wanted, and he might do that to ensure his granddaughter’s life. Tamryn did not want these people to know they had another bargaining chip.
“What I know is insignificant compared to what Captain Porter knows,” Tamryn said with a sigh. She tried not to look too worried about the prospect of an interrogation—if she did, then he might be suspicious that she was lying. “But if you believe otherwise, I hope you’ll stick that needle in my arm instead of in my neck. That looked painful.”
“You don’t seem like someone who shies away from pain.” His voice was softer than it had been with Anise; it had less of an edge and reminded her of the way he had spoken when they had been alone.
Tamryn found that more alarming than comforting. She didn’t want to be his special prisoner. She wanted to be tossed in with the others and forgotten, so she might have a chance of escaping and doing something.
“I don’t see any reason to court it, either. I’ve got nothing to prove.” Speaking of lies... She almost laughed at herself. The whole reason she had requested this assignment was to prove something.
Makkon did not reply, but he did gaze down at her. With approval? Speculation?
She couldn’t tell. Maybe it was all her imagination.
“Do you want the amphora too?” Anise called from the open vault door.
“The what?” Makkon asked.
“I’ve been calling it an amphora.” Anise held up a round jar that looked more like something that would have come out of a pyramid in Ancient Egypt than from the ruin site of an advanced civilization. “There’s some powder inside. I’ve X-rayed it and can’t tell more than that, but the symbols that were in the area where it was found led me to believe it might be dangerous, so I haven’t opened it.”
“Like a weapon?” Makkon asked, then turned toward the exit before Anise answered.
A couple of seconds later, Tamryn, too, heard the footsteps approaching.
Brax walked in, and she didn’t bother stifling a groan. A second person followed him, another burly tattooed man whom Anise would probably find an excellent specimen.
“I like weapons,” Brax said cheerfully. He looked at Tamryn briefly, dismissively, then took in Makkon and finally Anise, still sitting on the floor next to her treasures. “Interrogation going well?”
“Yes.” Makkon waved Anise over.
She set the amphora on the table, along with an armload of artifacts that looked more in keeping with what Tamryn would have expected from the alien civilization—sleek gray or black objects, some blank on the outside and some adorned with symbols. Whatever they were, they all appeared to be functional items rather than decorative pieces.
“Tell him what you told me about the faster-than-light drive,” Makkon said as Anise approached.
She smiled and leaned against Makkon’s arm.
“Another woman, Makk?” B
rax asked. “You starting a harem?”
All expression had disappeared from Makkon’s face again, and he gave the other man a hard look, then prompted Anise to talk.
As the story came out a second time, Tamryn eased off her stool. Nobody was paying much attention to her, but all of the men stood between her and the exit, so escape wasn’t likely. She eyed the artifacts on the table. Alas, none of them looked like ten-thousand-year-old ray guns.
A siren wailed, and the lights in the corridor flashed. One of the terrorists had figured out how to turn the alarm off hours ago, and its sudden revival caught Tamryn by surprise.
“What now?” Brax demanded.
Tamryn grunted. Wasn’t that her line? But wait. Was it possible that help had already come? Their message couldn’t have reached Fleet headquarters yet, so reinforcements could not have been sent, but what if a Fleet ship had happened to be nearby and had noticed something amiss with the station? She didn’t remember seeing any missed messages on the comm computer, but maybe one had come in during the last hour.
“It could be pirates,” Anise said.
Tamryn almost groaned. She much preferred to hope for Fleet rescuers rather than more troublemakers.
“Put the women with the others, Makk and Dornic,” Brax ordered. “Then meet me on the ship.”
The man named Dornic gave a quick, “Yes, sir.”
Makkon said nothing. Didn’t like receiving orders from Brax, did he? Tamryn wished she could think of a way to exploit the slight strife between those two, turn it into something bigger. Whatever was happening, maybe it would bring an opportunity.
“Proximity alert,” came the computerized alarm voice from the speakers. “A ship approaches Frost Station Alpha.”
Tamryn couldn’t help but feel bitter that the sensors and alarm system were online now. Maybe if her people had heard that warning when the terrorists approached, they could have found a way to fight them off. The weapons stations might have damaged that mining vessel and convinced them never to board. Superior senses wouldn’t do anything on a broken ship.
Anise rushed to the table and grabbed the amphora.
“Leave that stuff out,” Brax said on his way to the exit.
Anise stared at him with wide eyes. “But the pirates might get our artifacts.”
“We’ll risk it.” Brax looked at Makkon. “She might not be as inclined to open the vault for us later.”
“I agree.” Makkon collected Anise and Tamryn, gripping each of them by the backs of their arms, and marched them toward the door.
Anise gave a long look back over her shoulder before walking out.
Chapter 10
Makkon joined Brax on the bridge of their salvaged mining ship, the spot Brax had chosen for making contact with the newcomer. They’d had to don suits to come over, and the lingering scent of space clung to them, a burned gunpowder smell that was new to Makkon, but which Brax promised was normal. What was less normal was the scent of sweat and adrenaline that clung to Brax. Was he anxious about the newcomers? Or the mission in general? While Makkon liked knowing his co-commander was human, he would have preferred Brax to be as calm and confident as he appeared on the surface.
“Why talk to them from here instead of the station?” Makkon asked.
“I sent two men to the station’s gun platforms,” Brax said. “We have more weapons here, if we need them. Also, we don’t need an intermediary to talk to people from here.”
Yes, being able to attack from two fronts might be useful, though nobody would call the mining craft a warship. When it had crashed into their moon a year ago, their people had retrofitted it, improving the engines and adding weapons systems as advanced as they could make them with their limited resources.
Brax had a fist to his jaw, watching the battle-damaged ship drift through space between Glaciem and the station. With black scorch marks painting the belly and one of its two engine nacelles visibly warped, it did not look like much of a threat. Also, the thruster assembly in that nacelle was dark instead of glowing orange like its counterpart. It had half power, at best. Still, the big block lettering on the hull clearly read, G.C. Fleet: Felling Axe. A military ship.
Brax pulled up the statistics and capabilities for the ship on the display. Someone must have downloaded up-to-date information on the military from the satellite. According to the data, this was an executioner-class vessel, a sleek craft with a lot of firepower. Though not as large as a heavy cruiser or dreadnaught, it had a crew complement of over a hundred and under normal circumstances was equipped with a bay full of one-man fighters with weapons capable of peppering enemy craft.
“...we repeat,” a voice sounded over the comm, “this is the Galactic Conglomeration vessel the Felling Axe. We have survived a pirate attack, but we are in need of assistance. Frost Station Alpha, do you read? We request permission to dock and conduct repairs.”
Makkon stirred. This was his first time hearing the message.
Brax raised his eyebrows toward him. “What do you think? Should we tell them to get out of here, that we’ve taken over the station? Or play along and let them dock? Maybe we could get ourselves another ship and more hostages.”
Makkon was surprised his co-commander was willing to consider advice. He and Brax were alone on the bridge—and the ship. The rest of their team was divided between guarding the hostages and protecting the mission-critical portions of the station, in case someone attempted to do exactly what their team had done.
“Between the information in that lab and the scientists we have now, we should have enough to trade for the equipment and supplies we need,” Makkon said. “Taking the station and killing its guards showed them we were strong, that we couldn’t be ignored or belittled, but if we kill too many, they’ll stop thinking of us as worthy adversaries that should be dealt with fairly and, instead, see us as terrorists that need to be annihilated. Again. In the end, even if we succeed, we still have to live in this system.”
“Unless we build that FTL ship,” Brax said wistfully.
Makkon had to admit the captain’s talk had stirred dreams of fancy within him, as well. With such a craft, they wouldn’t need to stay in the system and deal with the government. They could take what remained of their people and start over in another system, one where they could live in peace and not worry about being considered the soulless freaks of the galaxy.
“It sounds like that would be at least a few years off,” Makkon said. “As for that Fleet ship, even if it’s damaged, it’s a warship. We shouldn’t underestimate it or the soldiers on it. Besides, even if we took it and gained more hostages, we’d have to split our meager forces to watch everyone. We don’t have extra personnel right now.”
Brax grunted, listening to another iteration of the distress call. “If it’s here when the Fleet ships show up, it’ll be one more ally they can call upon to help kill us. I’d rather nullify it somehow. If not capture it, then destroy it.”
“Maybe we can just make it go away. Perhaps Pavlenko could be convinced to give them a story about a gas leak or an inoperable airlock, tell them they’ll have to head over to the next station to get repaired.” However far away that was. Now that he had access to the system’s computer network, Makkon needed to spend some time studying modern maps. “If she’s known to be the communications officer, they shouldn’t have a reason to doubt her.”
“Perhaps she could be convinced? You got her under your arm now, or not?”
Makkon hesitated. He wished he could say yes. “No, but I have more doses of the truth drug.”
“Hasn’t caved in to your charms yet, eh?” Brax waved at Makkon’s groin. “Maybe you could get the other woman to do the talking. She looked like she was ready to jump in your pants.”
Yes, too bad Porter wasn’t the one he wanted in his pants. Every time she had touched him, Makkon had wished he’d given the drug to Tamryn and that she had been the one stroking his chest. No, that wasn’t quite true. He didn’t want her attention
because of some drug. He wanted her to want him without coercion or artifice. Unfortunately, he doubted that would ever be a possibility.
Realizing Brax was watching him, Makkon came up with the first response that popped into his head. “Were you always this crude when you were a commander?”
“Were you always this sensitive when you were a hunt leader? It’s a wonder a tiger didn’t eat you.”
Makkon ignored the dig and studied the ship again, as if its exterior might give some clues as to what its leaders were thinking. “You’re right that we don’t want it here to help when the Fleet ships arrive. As much as I’d like to believe they’ll simply send one ship and meet our demands straight off, I doubt that will be the case.”
“Nor do I. We’ll have to fight and kill and spill a lot of blood before they accept that we can’t be ignored or made to go away.” Brax didn’t sound that upset by the idea.
“Then we shouldn’t bother with trickery. Tell them who we are and that we’ll shoot them if they approach.” Even though Makkon considered himself less bloodthirsty and more temperate than his co-commander, a part of him grew excited at the prospect of battle. Whether he fought animal or man, it was always a joy to pit himself against another, calling upon strength and cunning to come out ahead. Someday, he would be defeated—that was the inevitability of such a life—but he would go out as a warrior. “If they insist on approaching anyway, then we will be justified in blowing them out of the stars.”
Brax smiled. “Let’s do it.”
• • • • •
Sheer exhaustion overcame Tamryn once she and Anise were returned to the lounge. She had meant to confer with the other prisoners and try to come up with a plan for contacting the new ship, but all she had managed was a quick check on the wounded soldiers before slumping to the floor next to them, where her eyelids had immediately fallen shut. The lights were darkened for the night cycle, and most of the other prisoners already slept.
Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series Page 11