by AM Scott
Ferra was breathing hard, but she climbed to her feet before Saree had time to do more than survey the area. Taking off her pack, Ferra pulled out a headlamp and a jacket. “Get out a light. Let’s go.” She motioned toward the back of the ledge, toward the darkness.
Having no choice, Saree did as she was told. She put her jacket on, snapped her light on, pulled on gloves and walked cautiously into the dark. The ledge closed down into a hollow, the rock above them lowering with each step, the tunnel closing in around them. The cool of the tunnel contrasted sharply with the heat of the Badlands, and Saree shivered, more with foreboding than physical chill. The tunnel narrowed, and she was forced into a crouch, duck-walking into the gloomy chill of the constricting tunnel, the rasp of her boots against the rock sounding loud in the oppressive silence. The beam of her headlamp penetrated only a few meters before disappearing, but Saree had no choice but to move forward. Ferra was at her back, literally breathing down her neck.
Darkness pooled at her feet and she stopped.
A sharp poke in her back. “Why are you stopping?”
“There’s a drop-off.” Saree peered down, squinting against the deepening gloom. The tunnel sloped steeply, like the drop off an Old Earth roller coaster, and the walls narrowed to less than a meter across. She did not want to go down this thing. It would be so easy to slip and fall. What was at the bottom? A sharp spire, waiting to impale her? Or a deeper hole? Or just a flat spot she’d splat on, breaking every bone in her body?
“Can you get down it without a rope?”
Saree gritted her teeth and looked closer. Her childhood in the tunnels of Mining Colony Jericho might come in handy. “Yes. I’ll have to go slow and hold myself against the walls to keep from sliding.”
“Move,” Ferra growled.
Saree scowled but moved ahead into the constricted space. As the tunnel narrowed, she shifted into a seated position, her pants scraping against the rock, her feet pressing against the tunnel sides, keeping her from sliding. The tunnel’s slope increased, getting ever steeper. The walls had an odd texture, like they’d been chiseled away, then the roughness was smoothed, sanded or worn away. It didn’t seem like a water-carved channel, but what did she know about it? Thankfully, this tunnel didn’t get wider, but it took more and more effort to hold against the wall and move forward without careening down. Pushing her hands, feet and rear end hard against the tunnel walls kept her in place—barely. Those childhood days, exploring the tunnels of her home asteroid, were definitely helping. Muscle memory was an amazing thing. Saree really hoped Ferra was up to the task of holding herself against the drop. Otherwise, Ferra would crash into her and send them both tumbling down into the black unknown.
The tunnel echoed with the sound of harsh breathing and the shuffling movement of material on stone. The ever-present dust of Gliese rose around them, worsening as they slid hands and feet along the roughly textured stone walls. Pebbles dislodged by their passage dropped below them, pinging off the rock as they bounced.
When the tunnel finally leveled off, Saree’s arms and legs shook and her panting was fast and loud in the small chamber. She didn’t ask for permission, she just moved off to the side, pulled off her pack and collapsed against the cave wall. Saree pulled out a bev-tainer and drank between gasps. The wet coolness cascading down her dry throat washed the dust away, and her breathing eased. She could almost feel the liquid penetrating her exhausted muscles, the tremors lessening with every sip. Pulling out another energy bar, she ate mechanically—she had to feed her body after the intense effort. Saree stretched her legs and arms, relishing the relief of tired muscles.
After she finished the bar, Saree looked over at Ferra. She’d done the same as Saree but Ferra still breathed hard and fast. She might be in excellent physical condition, but she was still at least twice Saree’s age. And…Saree looked harder at Ferra. The woman hunched down into herself, glancing up at the rock overhead. Ferra might be claustrophobic. Saree chuckled to herself, careful to not let the laughter out. No sense in deliberately pissing the woman off. Especially when every step already put her on edge.
Saree might end up with an opportunity to escape before she was forced to make one. Unfortunately, unlike the naive Ferra, Saree had no doubt the Inquisitors would be on their trail. Or waiting for them. Either way, it would take a lot of skill and luck to avoid capture. Saree swallowed hard, the collar rasping on her skin. She had to get the collar off before they were caught. With it, her short miserable life would be even more miserable. And probably longer.
Oh, who was she trying to fool? They probably had their own supply of collars, so even if Saree got out of this one, she’d end up in one anyway.
No. No defeatist attitudes allowed. Saree had to stay positive. Maybe Hal would find a way to alert Lightwave that didn’t expose him and they’d be willing to rescue her again? Captain Ruhger’s glowering face came to mind. Somehow, the thought of his scowl made her feel safer. Which was ridiculous. Lightwave’s crew couldn’t come after her. They had bigger responsibilities and problems.
Closing her eyes in despair, Saree considered all her actions. She shouldn’t have left those clues in the ravine; she’d only made it easier for the Inquisitors. The drug clouded her mind—she wasn’t normally so stupid. Hopefully, the effort to get down the tunnel had burned the rest of the drug away. She couldn’t afford to be stupid, not anymore. Saree firmed her resolve. She would get herself out of this, just like she’d gotten herself out of the last mess. Yes, she’d had help at the end, but even without it, she would have escaped. She’d escape this one too. There wasn’t any other choice.
Saree smiled and took another drink. At least this one didn’t expose her as the ‘human Clocker.’ She chuckled internally. There was always a good side if you looked hard enough.
Chapter 15
“Security Alert Romeo! Romeo in the dining hall!” Loreli’s voice bounced around the shuttle cabin.
Ruhger started, jolting away from the evacuation plan. “Security, vid. Chow hall,” he snapped out. Alert Romeo meant a riot. He swept through the views until he found one showing Loreli, surrounded by bodies lying on the floor, a stunner in her hand. He activated the ops net. He’d be waking everyone, but if their passengers were rioting, they’d need everyone. “Lowe, status.”
“Lowe here, Captain. A couple of the Sisters tried to cause some sort of ruckus here, but the others subdued them quickly. They’ve notified Lashtar. Does Loreli need help?” Grant frowned at something. He was clearly watching everyone he could in the ready room, his gaze jumping.
“No, darling. I just stunned everyone. We’ll sort them out later,” Loreli said. She was breathing a bit hard but sounded calm.
Ruhger swept through the rest of Lightwave’s vids. Everything looked normal in the phys mod and the passageways. Except…parts of the shuttle passageway near the Scholar’s shuttle were blocked by cloth again. Blast and rad. When would those girls learn not to do that?
He brought the chow hall vid back up. Loreli was securing several women with flex cuffs. All older women. Interesting. “Loreli, can you tell who was instigating the problem?”
“Oh, yes, it was very clear. The girls wanted nothing to do with these women, but the shoving and screaming was so widespread I had no choice but to take everyone out.”
“Loreli, make sure you get the one to your right, too,” Katryn said. “I’ve reviewed the vids; she was part of the problem. They were using handheld stunners on low electric-arc settings, prodding the women and girls around them as they shouted about running out of food. You’ve got all the ones I see but check for stunners.”
“Ruhger, this was a distraction. There’s a shuttle moving out there,” Chief said.
Ruhger swept up Lightwave’s area surveillance view. “Blast and rad, who is that?”
A message, marked ‘emergency,’ popped up in his queue. It was from the Scholar. He pulled it up. “Hold on, I’ve got…” The only thing in the message was a vid an
d a comm link protocol. He clicked on the vid, watching as the Scholar was forced across her shuttle and into the pilot’s seat by another woman. The woman wore tight-fitting clothes and a scarf up over her head. The Scholar moved oddly, shuffling and stumbling. The view changed. Ferra stood behind the Scholar, securing her to the chair. He peered closer at the vid. A wide, silver collar with a green light at the front circled the Scholar’s neck. He clenched his teeth in fury. Ferra put a slave collar on the Scholar! By all the suns, Ferra was a dead woman walking.
Ruhger moved the vid into the shared space. “It’s the Scholar’s shuttle. Ferra has the Scholar in a slave collar. She’s trying to get samples of the transuranics. Blast and rad to all the seven suns of Saga!” He clicked on the comm link protocol from the Scholar. Normally, he’d never risk something like this without Katryn looking at it first, but clearly this was an emergency situation and it was from the Scholar. Another life-alert automation? Seemed a little complicated for that…
“Lashtar here.”
“Lashtar,” Chief said. “Ferra’s gone rogue. She’s collared the Scholar and taken her shuttle to Gliese.”
“Oh, by all that is holy, that idiot. Blast and rad. I should have put her in a bod-pod and let it burn into the sun.”
“Get up here, Lashtar,” Ruhger spit out. “Chief, I want you and Tyron too. Katryn, help the Sisters figure out who was involved in this power play. Loreli, Grant, you help the Sisters secure the Klee-humping idiots.”
The comm link protocol connected and he swept it up. It was a vid of the Scholar’s shuttle, apparently live. He peered at the Scholar’s face. She looked sleepy. Ruhger frowned. Maybe ‘slack’ was a better description. Ferra had probably drugged her. Blast, blast, blast and rad. He pounded his fists once on the armrests.
All he could do was watch. The Scholar sagged against her restraints, her eyes closing. Then she’d pry her eyes open, the lids moving up ever so slowly. They stayed up for a moment or two, then sagged shut again. Clearly she was trying to fight the drug, but not successfully.
The hatch buzzer sounded. Ruhger checked the exterior vid and released the hatch. Lashtar, Tyron and Chief tromped in, Tyron securing the hatches.
“Ruhger, I am sorry,” Lashtar said. “I underestimated the depths Ferra would descend to.” She shook her head and huffed. “I never thought she’d resort to such things for a drug dream. For a tiny chance at credits. She is no Sister.”
“She’s dead, Lashtar.” He stared into her eyes. “There’s no way I’m letting her back on Lightwave. Don’t ask.”
“I wouldn’t. She’s flown out-orbit; she’s in the Mother’s arms,” Lashtar snapped out. “The question is, what do we do about your Scholar?”
He snorted. “My Scholar? Hardly. But she is a passenger on Lightwave and we have an obligation to our passengers. We also have an obligation to all the other passengers on Lightwave, paying or not. And we’ve got a lot of them. Clearly the needs of all on Lightwave take precedence over one.”
Lashtar aimed a particularly skeptical look at him. Tyron’s face mirrored Lashtar’s.
Chief said, “I’m surprised you are so practical about this situation. If the Scholar can survive the day then Deneb’s forces can mount a rescue. They’ll be much better equipped to do so.”
Ruhger frowned at him. “I didn’t say I was willing to wait. I said we had a greater obligation to those here on board now. The safety of all these people outweighs our obligation to one. That doesn’t mean we don’t have an obligation to help the Scholar. Just that any action has to be weighed carefully.”
Chief returned his frown. “Any action is likely to negatively impact our ability to protect those we have on board. We don’t have a big crew, remember? And only two shuttles. We need everyone here and both shuttles. We’re not mercenaries anymore.”
“Yes. I remember.” Ruhger almost didn’t recognize his own voice; he growled out the words. He tried to rein in his emotions and think logically.
“Hey, let’s not argue. There’s no need to send any of us,” Tyron interjected calmly. “We have a bunch of trained martial artists and security personnel right here. And it’s their problem to fix since they caused it.”
Lashtar snorted. “Certainly, we have trained individuals. What we are not is a force trained to work together in a hostage rescue situation with hostile forces working against us.” She sighed. “Still, we have an obligation. I acknowledge that. I failed to contain Ferra. Her actions are on our heads.”
“Generous of you, Sister Lashtar,” Ruhger said. He was growling again. He cleared his throat. “But it would not be wise to send a bunch of women into this situation. It would escalate the Inquisitors’ efforts and give them additional hostages.”
Scowling, Lashtar snorted again. “You’re fooling yourself if you think those…people really care what sex their slaves are. The bigger problem is what to do, if anything.”
Tyron said, “We can’t intercept the shuttle; it’s too far away. It will be reentering atmosphere soon. Do we know where they’re landing?”
Lashtar’s frown deepened. “No.” She shook her head, clearly exasperated at herself and Ferra. “I had Ferra read Trena’s journal as a punishment. I didn’t ask for a report. I have no idea where they’re going.” Her face cleared. “But the Scholar scanned it in. She sent me a copy. We can search for the location.”
“In a hand-written document?” Chief asked. “They’ll be there by then.”
Ruhger’s message queue flashed. Another message from the Scholar. Surprising. He swept it up. A set of coordinates. He swept them over to a map of Gliese and displayed it. “From the Scholar.” He looked at the live vid of the shuttle again. He couldn’t imagine how the Scholar sent anything, she was so out of it. Anger warred with despair. He couldn’t see how they could possibly get her out of this.
“Interesting. The far side of the Badlands. That’s nowhere near any of the known Inquisitor locations,” Lashtar said, drawing his attention back to her.
“They’re going to investigate,” Tyron asked.
“Yes,” Ruhger answered at the same time as Lashtar, even though Tyron hadn’t really asked.
“Then we definitely can’t do anything right now. If their shuttles are up, we can’t count on getting lucky like we did last time, even at two v. two with Lightwave in range,” Chief said. “Dropping personnel will have to wait until their shuttles land. Probably after they loot and destroy the Scholar’s shuttle.”
“Hah. Good luck getting into the Scholar’s shuttle with anything intact. She’s got an incredible security system.” Tyron’s face displayed exasperation and admiration. “Katryn’s really frustrated. It adapts in real time. They’ll have to blow a hole in it.”
“They might,” Chief warned, his face grim. “We could take the shuttles out with Lightwave’s weapons.”
Ruhger frowned. “I don’t want to go on the offensive. While we could claim they’d already attacked us, it would look more like revenge than defense. And by the time they actually attack the Scholar’s shuttle, there will be too much chance of collateral damage to use Lightwave’s weapons.” He considered the situation. “All right. So, let’s get the mess with the Sisters onboard Lightwave buttoned up, then nightshift, you go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you. I’ll watch the Scholar’s situation. I’ll brief you at shift change in…” he checked the time “—two hours. If any of us come up with any brilliant ideas, post them in the shared Gliese folder. I’ll make a sub-folder named ‘Scholar.’ Any questions?”
Tyron raised his hand. “It will be dark in a few hours down there. If we had combat drop qualified people, we could drop a small team without the Inquisitors noticing.”
Ruhger snorted at the same time Lashtar did. “It’s been years since any of us have done that. How about you, Sister?”
She scowled at him and Tyron. “Longer than that. Eons even. And I’m the only Sister who’s done it. None of the rest of them have ever dropped, not even a parachute drop
for fun. We train our people for security, not combat.” Slumping, she frowned. “I stay in shape because of my position but I’m not sure I could handle a combat drop.” She grimaced. “I’m old. I just can’t take the hard hits like I used to, and combat drops are the epitome of a hard hit.” Shaking her head, a regretful look on her face, she said, “No, I’ll put together a team of four to six volunteers if you can drop them where the Scholar’s shuttle landed in the dark of night. We’ll hope the Inquisitors are busy. I’ll stay up, in command. That’s my job.”
“Let’s all think about the problem and potential solutions but get our current issue cleaned up now,” Ruhger said. “Lashtar, I’m putting these women in your hands, but the next time they cause a problem, they’re out. I’ll bring another family up from Gliese.”
“I completely agree. I wouldn’t object if you shoved them out in bod-pods right now. This is your command, not mine. I will explain to all my Sisters that there will be no more chances. They’ve had time to adapt.” Lashtar held up a finger, her face cold and stern. “One more rule violation of any kind and back to the planet they go. I don’t care if we are in orbit or up the fold orbit. If it’s a death sentence, they’ve brought it on themselves.” She turned and marched out of the shuttle.
Tyron and Chief looked at Ruhger, with equally grim expressions. Nodding at him, they followed Lashtar, the shuttle hatch hissing closed behind them. His depressing thoughts closed in too.
Ruhger watched Lashtar gather her miscreants and all the other Sisters, leaving a few to watch the children and the wounded. She broadcast to every public vid on Lightwave, Katryn making sure Lashtar’s speech overrode any other programming. Lashtar coldly dissected the actions of Sister Ferra and her team, showing how selfish and self-centered they’d been and how their actions endangered others, including someone who’d already risked herself considerably for them. She publicly requested Ferra’s expulsion from the Sisterhood and got a resounding agreement. Lashtar announced ‘the outcast’ would not be allowed back on Lightwave. By the end, Ferra’s team was pale and shaking.