Park’s back itched. Just what the hell had this guy been doing with his wrist device? Forensic communication scan? That was the type of stuff you did when somebody had been sending and receiving blocked messages. Was this guy a spy?
Did it matter?
Unless he was the Force embodied, Park had one single remit, and that was to keep Vira’s head down. This was very much not keeping her head down – one of the more senior security lieutenants – Walker – was now heading through the mess hall toward her, and though Park kept saying he couldn’t read minds, he could bloody well tell what that guy was about to do. Clap Vira around the head and drag her off duty to remind her that she couldn’t accost the crew without evidence.
The Ensign paled. At talk of forensic communication scans, he stiffened like a rock.
Park’s back straightened and hardened, every muscle becoming rigid.
“Vira, no matter what this guy’s done, you need to back away now. You’re making too much of a scene,” Park began.
The guy finally latched his hand on his wrist device, his thumb stiffening.
Creyole’s had amazing grips. Their bodies were so powerful, that with just one squeeze that guy would be able to break the outer casing of his wrist device. It wouldn’t be enough to completely crush the tiny data chip within, but it would be a start.
Vira acted.
She shoved hard into the table, hard enough that it scooted over and slammed into the Ensign. He may have been Creyole, but the move was more than enough to knock his hand before he could crush his wrist device.
“No, Vira, wait,” Park began.
She ignored him.
She shifted around the table quickly, smoothly, gracefully, and with deadly efficiency.
She grabbed the Ensign just as he locked his hand desperately on his wrist device. She wrenched his hand off it, somehow unclipped the wrist device, and pulled it away from his wrist, all in one smooth, continuous move.
She took a step away from him and held the wrist device up.
The Ensign stared at her, shocked. It was almost as if it took him a moment to realize what had happened, a moment to appreciate that his wrist device had been taken from him.
“What the hell is going on here?” The pissed off Lieutenant Walker reached Vira. “You can’t accost members of crew,” he began. “Give me that,” he said as he snatched the wrist device off Vira.
Something appeared to snap in the Creyole’s mind. Desperation. Park saw it as it burnt away in the man’s pupils, brighter than a dying star.
The guy jumped to his feet and jerked toward Vira.
Park got there first, pivoting and ramming his shoulder into the Creyole. Park was a lot of things, and he was a talented combat officer, but for God’s sake, the Creyole was twice Park’s size. Park still managed to knock the guy off course.
The Ensign slammed against the table, upending it with his massive body. It tilted, twisted, and fell to the side, sweeping into Lieutenant Walker’s legs. The man didn’t have a chance and fell roughly onto his side.
The Creyole went for the wrist device.
Park got there first.
He managed to wrap a hand around it just as the Creyole snatched his hand over Park’s. Before the guy could crush every single bone and tendon in Park’s hand, Vira wrapped an arm around the Ensign’s middle and wrenched him to the side.
They powered into the table.
Park scrambled to his feet just as Lieutenant Walker did. The guy quite rightly looked as if he had absolutely no idea what was going on – a shocked and terrified expression that was shared with every other member of crew in the mess hall.
Park still had hold of the wrist device, and he wrapped his fingers around it protectively.
It took a moment for Lieutenant Walker to appreciate that he was one of the security chiefs, then he dashed forward and tried to help Vira restrain the Ensign.
Even though this situation was unfolding as quickly as an explosion, Park could appreciate one fact – Vira was doing an astounding job of looking competent but not incredible. She was winning the fight, but she wasn’t doing it outright with one of her subspace weapons.
Together with Walker, they both restrained the Ensign, though neither of them, technically, were strong enough to wrench him to his feet.
By now, other security personnel in the mess hall had rushed over to help. It took five grown men to pull the Creyole to his feet.
The man was wild now. All pretense of innocence was gone, his face practically cracking up with anger. “You can’t stop us. You can’t stop us,” he spat. “The end is coming. And any fool who doesn’t do everything they can to stop the harbingers of doom will help bring about the Coalition’s destruction.”
Park had seen a lot of things, been through a lot of security incidents, and heard a lot of crazy, but there was something so very unhinged about the guy’s look, and more importantly, what he was saying.
Park unavoidably paled.
Vira wisely allowed five burly members of the security team to control the Creyole as she got to her feet.
Her hair sat perfectly around her shoulders, and there was barely a rumple in her uniform, but at least she was making an effort to look out of breath.
Park locked eyes on her, and he grinned.
Vira?
She looked right over his shoulder, and she paled.
Without warning, she knocked into his shoulder, shoving him right out of the way.
It was just in time.
Somebody came up from behind, filtering in through the crowd.
Park felt something slice past his shoulder. It caught several centimeters of flesh, nicking it, sending blood splattering over his arm and over the previously clean floor by his feet.
He landed hard on his side, twisting immediately to see a man with a pin gun.
Pin guns weren’t used in sewing clothing, nor were they allowed in the Coalition. They were violent weapons. They shot tiny bolts of metal that moved so quickly, they could tear through a bulkhead.
Fortunately the pin had only nicked Park’s arm, and it hadn’t blasted through anyone else before it had slammed through the mess hall wall.
As Park had fallen, he’d lost hold of the wrist device. It was by his foot.
It all unfolded so quickly, but Park had just enough time to appreciate one fact. Vira was in direct line of sight of that pin gun, and if she threw herself forward, she would get shot. Or at least, an ordinary person would get shot. Though a pin-gun blast would tear through any soft-fleshed race, Park had absolutely no misgivings that it would bounce right off Vira. But that wasn’t the point.
“No, stay perfectly still,” Park thought as loudly as he could, bellowing the thought in his mind as if he was screaming across a valley.
Remarkably, though Vira looked as if she wanted to throw herself at the man, she stopped.
She was a meter and a half from him, and he had the gun pointed right at her chest. “Nobody move,” the man spat, voice shaking.
As Park remained there on the ground, arm bleeding over his torn uniform, he got a full look at the man. He too was a science officer judging by his collar. Or at least, that was his stated profession aboard the Apollo – because from one look at him, you could appreciate he was trained in combat. From the way he held himself, to his even expression, to his expert grip on the pin gun.
“Nobody move,” he said again, spitting out each word slowly. “And you,” he barely shifted the gun as he gestured at Vira, “pick up that wrist device. Slowly. Everyone behind and beside me, walk toward the walls. Do it now, or I put a pin right through this woman’s head.”
Though Walker was close enough to make a go for the gun, the man wasn’t an idiot. Not only were pin guns capable of shooting right through a bulkhead, they were also computerized. The guy holding it would have already locked his aim on Vira, and short of an elephant getting in the way, if he fired, the pin would find Vira and slam right through her chest. Or dodge off her S
pacer form, but that wasn’t the point.
This was the very worst thing that could have happened. Though Park didn’t fear for Vira’s life, the importance of her secret slammed into him and shook him as if the Creyole had suddenly wrapped its massive hands over Park’s shoulders.
Silently, as one, all of the crew in the mess hall shifted toward the walls.
Park remained exactly where he was. It wasn’t because he was injured. It was because he needed to stop this now.
Fortunately the guy assumed he was down.
“Lieutenant Rogers, think about what you’re doing,” Lieutenant Walker said from the side of the room.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Rogers said, and there was that same tone to his voice that the Creyole had used. Unhinged. It wasn’t as quick, as angry, as desperate, but it had that same frantic quality you only ever saw with people who had gone right off the deep end.
Momentarily, Rogers looked at the Creyole. “Kill yourself,” he snapped.
The Creyole didn’t even pause. He didn’t question. He didn’t complain. His jaw twitched to the side as he obviously activated some shielded neurological implant. The man jolted and fell to his back as his eyes rolled and his jaw slackened.
He was dead before he hit the floor.
Vira twitched.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Park pleaded with Vira once more as the horror of what he’d just seen shook him to the core. That Creyole had gone through with the order to kill himself with no complaint. Worse, he’d obviously possessed a shielded, lethal neurological implant that had never been picked up by the ship’s scanners.
Vira didn’t move a muscle. But from the look in her eyes, it was obvious she wanted to tear Rogers’ apart.
“Pick up the wrist device,” Rogers said, lips snapping around each word. “Now. Make it slow,” he growled.
“Just do it. Vira, do it. And whatever you do, don’t make a go for his gun. It’s programmed to you. It will fire.”
Vira paused, and that pause was the single worst experience of Park’s life. He’d subtly shifted his left hand over to his right. He’d do it if he had to. Turn her off. He just hoped Rogers wouldn’t be stupid enough to shoot her.
“Do it,” Rogers spat.
Finally, Vira shifted. She slowly got down to one knee, wrapped her hand around the wrist device, and stood.
“Turn,” Rogers spat.
Vira turned.
“Do everything he says, Vira,” Park thought desperately.
Rogers walked right up behind Vira and pressed the pin gun to the back of her head.
Park hadn’t caught sight of Jameson since the altercation began. He was standing close to Walker, and the two men had their angry gazes fixed on Rogers.
“Now, this is what’s going to happen – we’re going to walk out of here,” Rogers said to Vira. “And no one’s going to get in our way.”
“Do exactly what he says,” Park thought again.
Park had never been more fearful in his life. He needed to end this now. Christ, he needed to end this now.
He’d been lying there, stiff, but now he tilted his head up to get a better view of what was going on.
It obviously alerted Rogers to the fact he was still there.
Rogers darted his gaze toward Park. “Don’t try anything,” he snarled.
Park slowly brought up his hands and opened them wide. In doing so, he aggravated his shoulder. Obviously the pin had done a hell of a lot more damage than Park had appreciated. Adrenaline and the sheer shock of this situation had been hiding from him the true extent of his injury.
His chest was completely covered in blood, and a small pool of it had escaped under his back.
Though he attempted to keep his hands wide, his injured shoulder chose that exact moment to buckle, and his hand fell limply against his stomach.
His head was a little woozy, too, but he never stopped facing Rogers. “Just take it easy,” Park said. “There’s not much I can do here, buddy. I’m pretty injured.”
That thought ignited something in Park.
He looked right at Rogers. “I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but if you’re looking for a hostage, take me. I’ll be a hell of a lot less trouble than she will.”
Park wasn’t being chivalrous. He was being desperate.
Rogers snorted. “Nice try, Lieutenant, but I know your service record. I’ll take my chances with the woman.”
“Then you’ve obviously never seen her fight,” came a rumbling voice from across the room.
Park had to strain his neck to appreciate it was Jameson.
Maybe there was something about that voice, because Rogers stiffened. It obviously made him reassess his judgment. He let his gaze swivel from Vira’s head back to Park.
Park tried to look as weak as he possibly could. Which, to be honest, wasn’t that hard. He’d seriously underestimated the damage that glancing blow had done him.
“Don’t you dare move a muscle,” he spat in Vira’s ear as he shifted back. He took several steps away from her, then several steps more. Without shifting his aim, he nodded down at Park. “Stand. You fall down, I shoot you and I get another hostage. Got it?”
Though Park couldn’t even move his right arm anymore, he kept his left hand held out in a placating position. “I’ve got it,” he said slowly and clearly as he hauled himself to his feet.
He was wobbly from blood loss, but there was no damn way he was going to let himself fall.
“You hand the wrist device to Lieutenant Park,” Rogers spat, obviously talking to Vira.
Without turning around, Vira held out the wrist device, her palm open.
Park shuffled up to her and grabbed it, momentarily leaning into her shoulder for support. “No matter what happens, do not do anything extraordinary to save me, got it?” he thought at her.
He couldn’t see her face.
He had no idea what she was thinking. But at least she handed over the wrist device.
Park took it and faced Rogers. “What now?” Park managed through wobbly lips.
“Now you turn around, and you follow me. As for you,” he spat at Vira, “join the rest of them on the far wall.”
Vira paused.
“Do it,” Park thought at her.
She shifted forward.
Park hadn’t calculated for this. In his head, the greatest variable to getting Vira to the Expanse had been Vira, not the crew of the Apollo. Jesus Christ, what was even going on here? And how had it happened? What was on this wrist device? And how exactly had two members of the Apollo been treasonous without anyone else noticing? How the heck had Rogers gotten the pin gun on board? What the hell was wrong with security on this ship?
Park had just enough time to think ironically that Jameson had obviously been employed for a reason, then Rogers slammed the muzzle of his pin gun against Park’s neck and growled, “Move.”
Though Park was wobbly, he walked out of the mess hall, Rogers right behind him.
He had absolutely no idea where Rogers would take him.
There was one thing Park could be thankful for, though – at least the ship wasn’t demonstrably on red alert. The klaxons weren’t blaring, and the red lighting strips along the floor hadn’t lit up to alert crew to an incident. That didn’t mean that the Captain wouldn’t know what was going on; it just meant that the man was smart enough to appreciate that the last thing Rogers needed was more stress.
Rogers never let the gun deviate as it was pressed right there against the back of Park’s skull. If the bastard ever fired, Park wouldn’t know it. The pin would blast through his brains in a nanosecond. He’d be nothing more than blood, bone, and tissue over the once pristine, clinically clean hallway.
Park wasn’t stupid enough to try to negotiate with Rogers. Park had done what he needed to – get Vira out of the line of fire. Park was also mildly comforted by the fact that if he did die – not of course that he wanted to – Admiral Forest would find out, and would pr
esumably put a stop to this mission and take Vira back to the Academy.
In other words, no matter what happened, Vira would be safe. And for a man who was usually as self-interested as Park, that thought gave him far too much comfort.
Whoever Rogers was, he was well prepared. The exact calibration of his pin gun would allow Rogers to automatically fire should anyone be brazen enough to try to transport Park out of the firing line.
It was the perfect weapon. Which got Park thinking – just who exactly it had been meant for.
It was obvious Rogers and the Creyole hadn’t expected to be rumbled. No, their weapon and whatever secret communication they’d been engaged in had obviously been directed toward somebody else.
Who?
Park had heard the rumors that there were still factions amongst the Coalition – spies either from the Force or the Barbarians. Elements within the Coalition actively trying to destabilize it.
“Hook a right,” Rogers spat. “We’re going to head up to that panel. You’re going to use your security clearance to open it and send us to deck 20, understand?”
“I understand,” Park said automatically in a completely easy tone.
Though he’d said that, he didn’t. Deck 20? Why? He would have assumed that Rogers would try to flee the ship, and to do that, he would either have to go to the transport bay or to the hangar bay.
Park didn’t have the luxury of asking Rogers casually what the hell the asshole had planned. He reached over with his shaking, blood covered left-hand, maneuvered his fingers slowly over the panel, and was quietly glad when it took his orders.
The whole ship would be on silent alert by now, and it was a damn blessing that the Captain hadn’t decided to shut down access to every deck. It would buy Park some time.
He had no intention of dying at Rogers’ hand. There would be a way to get away, Park just needed time.
The door opened, and they both walked into the elevator.
“Turn around, slowly,” Rogers snapped, never shifting from behind Park.
Park complied, not bothering to say a word. Now was not the time for a getting-to-know-you chitchat. Rogers was on a precipice. Though he was obviously a lot better at dealing with his stress than the Creyole had been, Park could hear the lack of control poisoning Rogers’ voice like a virus to a mainframe.
Vira Episode One Page 12