by Nick Webb
“Identify them,” said Po, sliding into her seat. Ayala stole back to her post.
“One of them is our shuttle. The others look like two of Volaski’s,” the red-faced technician said, squinting at his console.
The first good news they’d had all day. Po made a note to herself to scold Mercer for not informing her of his return to the ship. But later, when the bridge crew wasn’t watching.
“Hail them, comm,” she said.
“Channel to the shuttle open, sir,” said Ensign Falstaff.
“Captain Mercer? Is everything all right?”
Captain Volaski’s voice came over the speaker, to Po’s surprise, and she slowly stood up. “Commander Po, your Captain is still down on the planet. There is something we need to discuss.”
“Volaski, what is the meaning of this? Why are you on our shuttle? Did Mercer authorize this?” A pit had grown in her stomach. Something was dreadfully wrong.
Volaski hesitated. “We have a situation down on the planet. Perhaps it is best we talked in person. May we board the Phoenix?” His voice sounded strange. Not like how he sounded before, when he was confident, almost exuberant.
Po turned to look back at Ben before remembering that he was with the Captain on the surface. As she scanned the bridge, she realized she was alone. There was no one on the bridge to offer advice, to tell her she was crazy for suspecting Volaski of doing something to the landing party. She glanced at Ayala, who seemed to read her thoughts.
Ayala, with wide eyes, slowly shook her head.
Good. I’m not crazy.
“Volaski, I see no reason that we can’t talk on this channel.” She folded her arms.
A sigh. “Commander Po, I’d really prefer not to discuss such a delicate matter over an open channel. Even over the northern pole where I doubt anyone can hear us—you are surrounded by enemies, and any communication over an open line is inadvisable.”
Po cleared her throat. She felt like she was being talked down to, and it galled her. “Captain Volaski, what makes you think I will bring you and your men aboard my ship when you have presented me with no evidence that you haven’t stolen that shuttle and now mean to steal the Phoenix? Give me something to work with, Captain, or else I’ll be forced to shoot you out of the sky and go down to retrieve the Captain myself.”
Volaski swore. “Commander, your landing party has been attacked by an unknown band of mercenaries. Velar was with them, but I’ve lost all contact with her and all of her people.”
The pit in Po’s stomach tightened, and threatened to rise into her chest. “Attacked? Did you witness it?”
“Just the first shots. They were in a marketplace when all of the sudden I heard gunfire, and decided to high-tail it out of there before….”
“Before what?” prompted Po.
“I prefer to face the danger from the comfort of my ship than from behind an assault rifle. When I heard the attack, I’m ashamed to say I headed straight back to the shuttle, and when your team didn’t show up, I came straight up here. Please. We must discuss this in person—Destiny is home to any number of crime syndicates that would love to get their hands on your Captain, your crew, and your ship. You have no idea what kind of price the Phoenix alone would capture on the black market, to say nothing of the Captain. There’s word the Empire has put out a generous bounty on Mercer, and you, for that matter.”
A bounty on her head. Po never thought she’d see the day, and to her surprise, she laughed.
“Fine, Captain, you may come aboard. But just you. Bring the shuttle into the fighter bay, and exit alone. None of your men come with you. Is that clear?”
“But, Commander—”
“Is that clear, Captain Volaski? There will be no negotiation on this point. You come alone, or you don’t come at all and I’ll be forced to retake our shuttle by force. Your choice, sir.”
She knew her game was risky. Threatening a pirate with violence could pay unfortunate dividends down the road, especially if the man was telling the truth. If he was lying, well, best to play it safe.
“Very well, Commander. Alone it is. But just be aware that if anything happens to me, I’ve got a small fleet of freighters and frigates that will come knockin’ at your door.”
“Understood, Captain. Po out.” She nodded to the comm, and the Ensign cut the channel.
She glanced back at Ayala. “What do you think, Willow?”
Ayala bit her lip and closed her eyes, as if deep in thought. “If he’s telling the truth, we’re going to need his help.”
“And if he’s lying? If this is just a ruse to get us to lower our defenses and capture the Phoenix?”
The Belenite opened her eyes. “Well, I think you astutely avoided that possibility, sir, by forcing him to come alone.”
Po shook her head. “No, Willow, I’m afraid I did not. That shuttle could be holding at least twenty well-armed men, for all we know.”
Ayala’s face fell into a frown. “I didn’t think about that.”
“If we’re going to stay alive out here, we’ve got to be constantly vigilant.” Her dark thoughts turned to her husband, who’d said the same words the night before the Empire attacked their neighborhood in San Bernardino, suspecting it to be a hotbed of Rebel activity. He’d always carried himself with a certain bravado—similar to Jake, now that she thought about it—and the night before the attack he’d sounded supremely confident that they’d have some advance warning of any Imperial activity.
He was wrong. And his error didn’t just cost him his own life. Few errors of that type do. She forced herself to focus on the matter at hand, rather than go down that road of dark memories.
“Sergeant Jayce, Sergeant Tomaga, this is Commander Po. Please report to the fighter deck, with ten marines—five from the Phoenix, and five from the Fifty-First Brigade. Come heavily armed, please. Po out.”
Ayala murmured, “Do you think it will come to that?”
“I sure hope not. But if it does, we’ll be ready.”
***
Suarez’s wound wasn’t bad, but the man would definitely need surgery to repair his rotator cuff according to the medic at Velar’s compound. Jake wondered what sort of business Velar ran that would require the presence of an on-call medic. In fact, the place seemed to be teeming with people. Men and women, young and old. Even several older children could be seen at times. Destiny must be like a true frontier town like in old times, where it was a family business and everyone helped, even the young.
The old medic sniffed, and scratched underneath the electronic-looking ring around his neck as he peered into the gaping wound on Suarez’s shoulder. It had finally stopped bleeding, and whatever the medic had given him for pain seemed to have worked, since the marine no longer winced whenever he moved.
“I can’t guarantee a clean scar—I’m a little short-staffed and surgery isn’t really my specialty, but I can patch that cuff up nice and good. You’ll be ready to work within a few weeks.”
Jake shook his head. “Doctor, we’re not planning on sticking around long enough for it to matter.” He thought it was a little odd that the man was offering to perform surgery on Suarez’s shoulder. “I’d rather leave it up to our doctor on the Phoenix. He’s an accomplished surgeon. But thank you, anyway, for the offer.”
The man peered up at him, somewhat wryly. “Suit yourself.” He stood up and packed his medic bag. “I’ll be around. Just let me know when you want your surgery,” he said to Suarez. “Keep it bandaged in the meantime, and put that antibacterial cream on again in a few hours.”
He strode out the door, and Velar came in to take his place, accompanied by several aides—gruff men who looked like guys that Jake wouldn’t want to meet in a bar fight. At least not sober.
“Mercer, I think the men who followed us are gone. We need to figure out how to get you to your ship. I finally located Volaski, and he’s keeping your shuttle safe. Will you authorize him to pilot it over here?”
Jake eyed her waril
y. “Sure. How soon can he get here?”
“It will be several hours. We’d prefer not to fly it until morning—the local authorities are a bit jumpy about off-world vessels flying around the city at night. Will you relay your command authority to him?”
Jake paused, debating whether it was safe. But there was no other choice that he could see. “Can’t you just fly us out to the shuttle? Surely the authorities wouldn’t mind a local flying around at night?”
“You’d be surprised, Captain. Destiny is not Earth. You have to earn trust here. Or take it by force. Fortunately, I’ve earned a bit for myself, but it doesn’t transfer to you just because you know me.” She reached down to her side and lifted a canteen up to her lips that had hung at her side. Drinking deeply, she glanced at them and said, “thirsty?”
Jake nodded, and looked down at Suarez, whose mouth was bone dry between the chase and the shock of all the blood loss. Velar nodded to the two men beside her, one of whom opened a cabinet drawer, extracted a few canteens, and filled them at the sink in the corner of the room. The man distributed them to the visitors.
“Thank you,” said Jake, and held one up to Suarez’s lips. Alessandro gulped the water down, and Avery sniffed at his before likewise drinking. A bit dribbled down his chin and wet the dusty clothes given him by Velar.
Only Ben set his aside before turning back to Velar. “You’ve got to be kidding yourself to think that we’d give Volaski the command authorization for the shuttle.”
Velar held up her hands. “Suit yourselves. I can transport you all back to the shuttle in the morning by ground car, but there’s no telling who may try to stop us. I’ve called a few contacts since we arrived here, and word on the street is that you’d fetch a high price. Some Admiral is out to get you people and is willing to pay dearly for it. He’s even willing to work with the syndicates.”
Ben sneered. “Like you?”
Velar shrugged. “I suppose, if you want to think of me like that. I assure you, Captain,” she turned back to Jake from glaring at Ben, “that my business is entirely legitimate.”
“And what business is that?” Jake asked. He shook his head. Being shot at, and the general lack of sleep from the past week was starting to take its toll.
“Uranium. Destiny has rich uranium deposits, and I run one of the larger mining operations. In fact, this compound sits over one of the smaller mines. The larger ones are on the eastern edge of the continent, where the two continental plates are pulling apart, exposing virgin deposits.”
Jake glanced down at Suarez. The man had fallen asleep. Finally. He struggled to keep his own eyelids open. Struggled a little too hard, in fact. Then he glanced at the canteen still in his hands.
“What the fuck did—” he lurched. Black clouds seemed to swirl at the edge of his vision. He was vaguely aware of Ben catching him before he fell into the table of equipment that the medic had left behind. He turned to Velar, and with a thick tongue said, “You’ll regret—”
But before he could finish the sentence, his eyes closed—the smirking grin of Velar’s face the last image engraved on his mind.
***
Ben glared at Velar, who still smirked. Gently, he lay his friend down on the floor and stood up, watching Velar’s two assistants warily. Behind him, he heard two dull thuds. Avery and Alessandro had fallen into the rear wall. He glanced back at the guards. They had each extracted a sidearm—high caliber, by the looks of them, and both were now pointed at his head.
“He’s right, you know,” said Ben, trying to formulate some kind of strategy, and yet knowing there was little hope of not only overcoming the two armed guards, but the rest of the guards of the compound who were probably similarly armed. “You’ll regret this. The Resistance doesn’t look kindly on people who—”
Velar guffawed. “The Resistance is dead, Commander. It’s all over the news broadcasts. Just yesterday I watched as Imperial police squadrons raided the offices of former Resistance members, hauling them off in handcuffs. Truth and Reconciliation is over. The Resistance blew it. Everyone in the Thousand Worlds saw the little stunt that you tried to pull in orbit over Earth last week, and I’m afraid you’ll find that public sentiment has turned against you.”
Ben eyed the nearest gun pointed at his head and judged the distance between them. “We’ve still got the Phoenix in orbit. They’ll send a force down, and when they get here, you’ll wish—”
“Wish that I’d just killed you? No Commander, you see, the people who try to rescue you will eventually find themselves joining you in my mines. Just think of it: how many men and women on your ship? You just might be able to double my workforce. And it’s far better than what Trajan was going to do to you. In time, you’ll come to see me as your savior, rather than your captor. Without me, you’d be dead already.”
Ben snorted. He took the barest step towards the nearest guard while motioning his arms in an expression of disgust. “Please. You honestly think I’ll ever be thankful to you? You’re deluded—that’s what you are.” He turned to one of the men—the one to Velar’s right. With another furtive step, he came ever closer to the one on the left. “So, what, is she paying you? Or are you slaves, too?”
Ben noticed the electronic neckband on the man, and finally understood. Slaves indeed. Spying a thin, translucent wire that ran from the collar to the skin, he finally realized what the devices were. “How can you live like this,” he said to the guard, trying to fill his voice with pity. “You’re a slave? To her? Why don’t you just kill yourself and be done with it—not let her cut your balls off and have you at her beck and call. What, does she make you polish her boots, too?” The man took a step forward, and the hand holding the gun quivered. In the tense moment, Ben managed another stealthy shuffle in the direction of the other guard, who was now just feet away. Just another step….
“Stay where you are,” barked Velar. Her voice had decidedly changed since the pretense of friendship had fallen. Both of you. Commander, if you take another step, I assure you it will be your last.” She pulled her own gun out of her overcoat and pointed it at his head. With her other hand she extracted what looked like a comm device, which she fingered on and held up towards him. “The command authorization please, Commander.”
“You’re a deluded bitch if you think I’ll give that up willingly.” He sneered at her. They’d fought their way through literally dozens of Imperial ships, managed to convince a hostile marine brigade to lay down their arms and had narrowly averted the catastrophic damage from the fire they’d taken during the battle over Earth, and now here they were about to be taken hostage by a slaver. It irked him, to say the least.
Velar responded by pointing the gun down at Jake’s prone head on the floor. “The command authorization, Commander. Quickly, please, or your Captain dies. And then you.”
Ben swore, but took a deep breath, praying that Po would have the sense to see through whatever Velar and Volaski were planning. “Fine. Command authorization Jemez delta one five nine echo zed. Transfer command of Phoenix shuttle to arbitrary control.”
Satisfied, Velar thumbed the comm off and returned it to her pocket. She nodded once to the man at her right—the one Ben had insulted. He withdrew another gun from his jacket, this one a bit larger, and Ben recognized it as something a little less deadly than the other firearm in the man’s hand.
This one fired darts, and within seconds Ben writhed in pain as the dart released its charge of tranquilizer deep into the flesh of his thigh. He fell to his knees.
The same guard stepped forward, and, looking at Velar, said, “May I?”
She shrugged her indifference and turned to leave.
The guard swung hard with his gun, and Ben, with the last bit of consciousness he had, felt the blow hit his left temple, and he knew no more.
***
Volaski entered the commands into the shuttle navigation computer to approach the Phoenix fighter bay and make a slow, deliberate landing. He knew what he had to do—he�
�d been rehearsing the plan in his mind for days now. And yet he still couldn’t help but think of other ways—other things he might say or paths he might take to accomplish the mission.
But his path was set—it was too late to change his mind. The opening doors to the fighter bay loomed large through the front viewport, and Volaski turned to look at his navigator.
“You ready, Mott?”
The other man jabbed his fingers at a few buttons on the control panel. Clearly, the man was not ready—he’d been against the plan since Volaski had presented his men with it days earlier. Too risky. They were sticking their necks out way too far.
“You sure ‘bout this, Vlad? With all that these ex-Imperials have been through, I don’t think they’re going to take our shit.”
Volaski nodded. He agreed. Captain Mercer had seemed easy-going enough. Trusting, even. But his two companions, Commander Jemez and Commander Po had seemed far more leery when he met them. The distrust showed in their eyes and sounded in their voices. He’d have to use that.
“No, I’m not sure.” He turned back to his own controls. “But what choice do we have?”
He absentmindedly reached under the heavy folds of his thick shirt and fingered the electronic collar around his neck underneath. His collar. He hated the term. Dogs wore collars, not men. How many years had he worn it now? Ten? Twelve? After the fifth year, they all seemed to blur into one long nightmare.
Mott eased up on the controls and slowed their approach to the fighter bay, which loomed ahead. “We always have a choice, Vlad.”
Volaski shook his head. “The alternative to obeying is death. For us, and our families. Don’t think I haven’t thought this through. I know the stakes.”
The giant bay doors passed out of view and the vast fighter deck lay out before them, looking even more put together than the last time he’d seen it the day before. The repair crews must have finally made it to the fighter bay.