by Don Foxe
“Can’t they hack them?” Hiro asked.
“Not since they did it to the battlecruisers baiting the wormhole trap,” Mags answered. “They added more security features and limited access to the codes.”
“Okay, that is important, and maybe we can do something,” Coop said. “I will go after Soren. Hiro will try to find Trewellan and persuade him to provide the codes. Does the diagram Admiral Nan gave us offer any clues as to where Hiro might find the General?”
“Funny you should ask,” the pilot said. “The officers’ quarters are clearly marked, and include level of available comfort. I believe the General will be in the best one, and that is one deck below the big chamber, amidship. It is directly across from a lift access for added convenience.”
“Good call, Mags. Now, unless something equally important comes up, let’s try to keep com-silence. Coop, out.”
Turning to Hiro he said, “That will be especially true between us. We need to work two missions and try not to communicate until we’re ready to evac.”
“We’ll stay together until we cross the lift shaft,” Hiro answered. “I’ll get off a floor before you and see if I can verify Trewellan’s location. I’ll tap the com once if I find him and twice if I need to keep looking.”
Coop replied. “If I locate Soren, one tap and two if I’m going to continue looking. Rendezvous will be the maintenance hatch where we re-suit for exit. If all hell breaks loose, fuck being heard. Use coms.”
“So we plan on using coms,” Hiro said with a smile.
“Guaranteed,” Coop answered, and headed up the maintenance shaft wide enough and tall enough for him to walk upright. He could not read Mischene script, but access panels lined either side the entire corridor. It indicated several of the ship’s systems’ maintenance, repair, and upgrades occurred right here.
They reached a split in the corridor that wrapped around a service access to an elevator shaft. The shaft went up and down, with rungs attached to one wall. Without comment, Hiro went up first, passing deck access tubes until he reached what should be the officers’ quarters level. He looked back at Coop, gave a thumbs-up, and crawled into the tunnel.
Cooper continued climbing for another floor and entered the maintenance tunnel for the level now housing the reconstructed chamber. He lucked up. The tunnel ended with a vented access panel. When contractors reconfigured the floors into one large space, they sheared this tunnel and installed an access vent. The crawl-tunnel began again on the far side of the new space. The vented metal cover provided a view of the chamber.
Whatever Mischene, Zenge, or Prophet time-cycle the ship used, apparently evening occurred now. If the ship was on a war-footing, it did not reach this area. The chamber muted in shadows and quiet.
As he watched, the former sniper allowed sight and hearing to take over. Soon he discerned two soldiers inside the large chamber. Stationed behind a throne at the far end of the room. The two remained on station, indicating they pulled guard duty. Access to private rooms must be behind the throne. All things considered, it probably led to the Prophet. An office or personal quarters requiring more than a simple knock.
Coop pulled soft, collapsible goggles from a pouch on his belt and slipped them on. He extracted a mini-torch next, adjusted it for infrared, and began to examine the vent cover.
Designed for maintenance workers, turn-screws located on his side. Slow and easy, he turned all four to open slot positions. He eased the cover back into the shaft with him. He placed it against the wall, and looked back to make sure the movements went undetected.
After two minutes and no lights or alarms, Coop dropped to the floor, ten-feet below. His landing made no sound, but he remained still until sure the guards did not react.
After short consideration, he decided to walk across the space quickly and quietly. Quick for him equalled way fast for most humans. The reengineering done by the Space Ranger Project increasing his speed along with his strength.
By the time the two Mischene guards realized someone was inside the chamber, he surged left of the throne, both laser pistols pulled. Two quick taps on the triggers and the sentries dropped.
He turned the torch to normal light and revealed a doorway with a security pad. Being squeamish was not in his nature, so taking the hand off one of the guards with the laser pistol did not phase him. He used the pistol instead of his knife to keep blood to a minimum. The laser cauterizing the cut, and reduced the chance he might slip on a wet floor.
He placed the palm against the pad and the door slid into its pocket, revealing a garish bedroom in bright light. As he stepped through the door, he did a quick scan. On his right, a female hung from a wall, lashed at wrists and ankles. Dark, matted hair hanging down across her red face. Sweat covered her body. A metal Zenge shock-collar circled her neck. She was screaming. Unaware he entered, her screams were not a warning.
In front of him, on a double-king bed, another red-hued female lay tied and spread in an x. Also covered in perspiration and sobbing. Another shock collar the only thing she wore.
Next to the bed, wearing an open dark green robe that revealed a scrawny, black body, stood Atticus Soren. His long white hair parted in the center, flowed below his shoulders. In his right hand he held a stick, or baton. The tip glowed red.
Coop noted smoke coming from the girl on the bed’s upper right chest. The smell of charred meat in the air.
The woman on the wall stopped screaming at the same time Soren turned towards Coop and yelled, “Who dares come into my bed chambers without first being announced AND allowed?”
When he saw a human stood there, and not a Mischene or Zenge, he did not act shocked. He did not move to cover himself.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my chambers?” he asked calmly.
Psychopaths tend to focus on the positive. Psychopaths do not take things personally; they don’t beat themselves up if things go wrong, even if they are to blame. They remain remarkably cool under pressure.
“I’m Captain Daniel Cooper of the United Earth Space Fleet.”
He fired the laser pistol from his hip, without needing to raise and aim. The burst hit the Sacred Voice of the Tahbita, Prophet of the Creator, and Pre-Destined Ruler of the Galaxy under the chin and exited the back of his skull.
Coop walked over to the figure lying in a heap and said, “Just wanted you to know who killed you.”
As he walked to the girl lashed to the wall, he unhinged the forward array box and folded it against the barrel of the pistol. He holstered the weapon, single clicked his com to let Hiro know he found the Prophet, and pulled the wicked-looking knife from its sheath.
The girl watched him from beneath wet hair, her face a scowl, but no fear. Bound to wall-mounted metal brackets by straps. He used his knife instead of the pistol to free her. Four quick strokes and she fell loose.
As exhausted as she must have been, she held her hand out until Coop rested the rubber grip of the blade in her palm. She hurried to the bed to free the other girl. After hugging the girl, she picked up two sackcloth shifts lying on the deck, gave Soren’s body a good kick, placed one on, and helped the girl into the other. Only then did she turn back to Coop.
“I will keep the knife,” she told him. “We will not be taken again.” She waited for an argument.
“Makes sense to me,” Coop said. “Can you two walk?”
“I can, but my sister is not as strong,” she answered. “I will carry her.”
Coop was impressed by the tenacity, the pure grit of the young woman. As weak as her sister, she did not back down as he went to them.
“I’ll carry and you follow,” he said. “Watch our backs and let me know if anyone shows up.”
He lifted the small woman, or young girl, he could not honestly tell, across his left shoulder. The other female followed behind until they crossed the throne room to the far side.
Coop placed his load gently on the floor, allowing her to lean against the wall. He asked the other o
ne, “If I throw you up there,” he indicated the shaft opening, “will you be able to grab the lip and pull yourself in?”
“I can pull myself in, but how will you throw me ten-feet up?” she asked.
In answer, he turned her to face the wall, grabbed her around her narrow hips, bent and raised up throwing her bodily into the air.
To her credit she made no sound. She grabbed the lower edge of the opening and hoisted herself through. Her head and shoulders emerged. Coop repeated the process. The woman grabbed her sister’s arms and using whatever strength she had available, hauled the precious package into the maintenance tunnel. Coop used a short running start, put one foot high on the wall, and finished his leap by grabbing the opening, and entering the tunnel.
He took a moment to put the hatch back, wishing he had taken the time to toss the two guards into the bedroom and close the door, but things were moving rather quickly.
He edged past the two females and told them to follow as he scurried back towards the lift shaft. As he crawled to the elevator, a click came across his com. Hiro located Trewellan.
When they reached the repair shaft for the midship’s elevator, he rolled over the edge, grabbed the rungs, and headed to the deck below. He never checked to see if the two women followed, assuming they had little choice. He scurried down another tight shaft for only a few feet, homing in on the light coming from a panel removed in the tunnel’s floor and the deck below’s ceiling. He popped his head through. The deck corridor dark and empty.
Having to take the chance, but using his personal trans-com and not the tactical com unit, he said, “Hiro, Coop. Sit-rep.”
“Coop, Hiro,” came the immediate reply. “Location?”
“Over your deck at the panel opening,” Coop replied.
“Drop down. I’ll have the door open for you,” came the reply.
“You two stay here and stay quiet,” he told the two women. “Once I drop through, put the panel back in place, but leave a crack so you can see and hear. Open it when I tell you. If anyone else shows up, stay hidden.”
He did not wait on a reply, immediately dropping through to the deck below. The door to the cabin directly in front of him opened and he entered.
The officer’s cabin was a lot less garish than the Prophet’s bedchambers, and included workspace, a sitting area, and a small kitchen. He guessed the bedroom, head, and other amenities were behind other doors. Hiro stood there. A man with dark skin, white hair, nude from the waist up, and tied to an office-style chair with him.
A dark-skinned, white-haired female sat on the far end of the sofa in the sitting area behind the tied man. Her head buried behind pulled-up knees wrapped by her arms. She rocked slowly, but never looked up.
“What is it with men who seem to relate power with sexual perversion?” Coop asked.
“I’m a planetologist, not a psychologist,” the Japanese Space Ranger Grad answered. “I’m not a physiologist either, but I have learned many of the pressure points which cause pain for humans are also present on Mischene.”
As a martial arts master, Hiro was well acquainted with pressure points. The ability to disarm and disable an opponent using accuracy and soft-targets on the body essential skills for men like him and Daniel Cooper.
“I have the codes to the shock collars,” he said. “I also have the pass-codes for data-storage files on board this ship. We should be able to learn everything about the Prophet, his father, their plans to dominate the known worlds, the location of the Zenge system, as well as outposts.”
“You’ve been busy,” Coop said. “The woman?”
“Trewellan had her taken from AF3 and delivered to him when they first invaded the planet,” Hiro said. “She is the daughter of a General Tomas, who was assigned to oversee the Zenge military project until the Prophet killed him, and replaced him with Trewellan.”
“My name is Ty Tomas,” she said, looking up. “Kasper Trewellan always wanted me, but my Father kept him away. He even transferred Trewellan to the Zenge system when my Father was ordered there. He is a pig. May I get dressed?”
“Of course,” Hiro answered. They discreetly looked away as the nude woman rose unsteadily from the sofa, made her way to a door, and through.
“Is it smart to let her out of our sight?” Coop asked.
“Maybe not,” Hiro replied, “but it is right.”
She returned a few minutes later dressed in a heavy pull-over shirt with long-sleeves, khaki-style slacks, and athletic shoes. Her hair pulled into a pony-tail.
“Are you through with him?” she asked. When Hiro nodded, she asked, “May I kill him?”
Hiro handed her his laser pistol and stepped back. Ty Tomas turned to Trewellan, raised the pistol, forcing him to look directly at the barrel, and said, “For my Father and for the Mischene . . . but mostly for me.” She pulled the trigger.
She handed the laser weapon to Hiro. He holstered it, then reached up to her neck, grabbed the metal collar at the clasp, and with genetically enhanced strength, ripped it apart.
She followed Coop and Hiro into the hallway where Coop looked up and called out, “If you’re still there, it’s okay.”
The panel pulled away and a red face peaked out.
“Come down,” Coop said.
The smaller girl came first. Caught and placed gently on the deck by Coop. The sister came next.
“I should know by now,” Hiro said to him, “that if I find one woman you will find two. How are we going to get them off the ship and onto Cassandra?”
“There are more Hana Kay on board,” the one with his knife said. “If we leave they will be tortured and killed when they arrive on Zenge. You must do something for them.”
“Do you know where they all are?” he asked. She shook her head in a negative. He looked to the Mischene and asked, “Do you?” She also gave a negative.
“We have to figure a way of getting you three onto our ship without the people on this ship realizing it. That’s first, and I honestly haven’t a clue,” Coop said.
“I do,” Ty Tomas said. “The battlecruisers have a docking bay where ships can enter and a vacuum system keeps the pressurization equalized between the bay and space. There’s no need to depressurize the compartment. How large a ship do you have?”
“56-feet wide, 72-feet long, and 24-feet tall,” Coop answered.
A surprised Tomas said, “That small? How did you manage to fly through the vortex?”
Coop ignored her questions and asked, “Will it fit in the dock?”
“Easily,” she said. “It can fly inside the bay. I will be able to command the bay doors to open, but once I do the bridge will be warned. We will have less than ten minutes to get your ship in, get aboard, and get away.”
“The crew will know about us then,” Hiro said. “I do not care for our odds against the battlecruiser’s weapons. Even small and difficult to see, once they know where we are, they will have a good idea where to fire.”
“I have an idea how to gain extra time, and maybe do something about the other hostages,” Coop said. “Hiro, take Ty and . . . what are your names?” he asked the two Hana Kay.
“I am Ashana Livist Tolnikiton,” the red female with the knife answered. “My sister is “Wendapi Arsino Tolnikiton.”
“Ty, show Hiro, Ash, and Wendy to the bay and get ready. When I give the order, you open the doors.”
“And you?” Hiro asked.
“We have sticky bombs in our cases, and we need to recover those EVA suits back at the maintenance entrance. Remember that corridor lined with access panels. I think I can create a little havoc. I might damage the ship enough to keep it in the system. The loyal Mischene ships heading this way could convince the crew to surrender the hostages.”
Hiro and the women headed for the lift. Katana in the Japanese man’s hand, to silence anyone who opposed their trip to the docking bay. Coop climbed up into the maintenance tunnel, and made his way back to the entry point.
Opening the two
cases, he removed and placed a dozen explosive grenades with magnets against a dozen panels. He had no idea what each panel hid, but he hoped they were important systems.
He changed into his EVA suit, helmet, and rebreather before saying, “Mags, Coop. You still here, Magpie?”
“About damn time,” came the reply. “This wait for the boys to return sucks. You two ready for pick-up?”
“Couple of changes,” he said. “Move in to pick me up. We need to fly around a bit to collect Hiro and a couple of extra passengers.”
“Of course. Coop?”
“Yes, Mags.”
“I win my personal billion-credits self-bet if the extra passengers are female.”
“Mags, it isn’t on purpose,” he said, not smiling. “And Hiro found one of them.”
“I’m under you and the hatch is open,” she said laughing. “Say, Coop. How many women have said that to you? Get your butt down here and tell me where to go.”
Coop directed her up and forward a few feet until he could push the cases into the open hatch and follow. Because the galley space remained weightless, he needed to pull himself down the ladder. Once the area re-pressurized, Mags opened the cockpit door. Coop did not bother taking off the entire EVA suit, just the helmet and rebreather.
“Use Hiro’s bracelet to locate him. Don’t worry your scan will be detected. We’re about to let everyone know we’re here.”
Mags hit the locator, followed the indicator under the cruiser’s port-side power cell housing, and along the side of the vessel until parallel with the signal.
“Hiro, Coop. Open the door,” he said.
On the side of the ship a large hangar-style door pulled in and followed tracks until a large hole appeared in the side of the vessel. Mags did not bother to ask. She pushed Cassandra inside sideways, extended landing gear, and settled onto the deck.
Coop opened the rear ramp, and Ty Tomas entered, followed by Ashana, and Hiro carrying Wendapi. He closed the ramp, pushed a button on his wrist-computer, and called out to Mags, “Wheels up and get us distance.”