Another shape, a blur, came out of the darkness and hit the tino with a loud thud. The tino roared, the sound echoing so loud that it hurt Kaylee’s ears. She ducked behind a crate and crouched down terror, watching the fight. Another tino?
No, it was the robot! The tino roared, bit, scratched, heaved itself off the deck, with the weight of the robot on its back. The robot was not affected by the tino’s efforts, it had both arms around the tino’s neck, both legs wrapped firmly around the tino’s waist. The tino rolled over, smashing Rocko into the deck plates, the robot’s weapons went flying out of their holsters, one of the weapons skidded across the deck to stop at Kaylee’s feet.
The tino bounced Rocko off the deck, crushing the robot with its full weight, slamming Rocko’s head section into the hard deck plates. The combat robot simply hung on, squeezing the predator’s neck, as the tino’s struggles weakened, until the creature slumped onto the deck, limp. The robot let go of the tino, and stood up. "Bad kitty." The robot admonished the tino. "Bad, bad kitty."
Kaylee was pointing Rocko’s gun at the robot, the weight of the weapon making her arms shake. The robot took a step toward her. “Don’t come closer, or I’ll shoot you!”
Rocko stepped toward her, Kaylee pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. The gun was plucked out of her hands. Rocko held it up in front of her face, the barrel pointed to the side. “The weapon will not fire when the safety is on, you must set this selector switch to red, see?” The robot activated the gun, turned it around, and handed it back to her. “It is not safe for children to handle weapons like this. Are you sure you want it, young Miss?”
Kaylee’s hands, which were closing around the gun, let go. “No. No, I don’t. It’s too heavy.” She didn’t know why, but she trusted the robot.
Rocko didn’t nod, he wasn’t programmed to do that. He flicked the safety back on, put the gun in its holster, retrieved his other weapon, and holstered that also. The tino was beginning to stir. The robot looked at Kaylee. “I do not wish to harm this creature, if I do not need to.”
The tino, which only a minute before had been about to tear her apart, now looked pathetic. It was coughing, trying to struggle to its feet. “It’s just an animal.” She said. “Can you put it somewhere?”
“I am waiting instructions.” The robot responded.
“Uh,” Kaylee looked around, “can you put it in a crate? One of the big ones?”
Following Kaylee’s directions, the robot quickly opened a large crate, took out the contents, and picked up the massive tino as if it were a kitten, while the tino struggled weakly against Rocko. “Bad kitty,” the robot said again, as it lowered the tino inside. It then shot two air holes in the side of the lid, before closing the lid, picking up another crate, and stacking it on top. It slid the two crates in between other crates, so the tino couldn’t knock over its crate by rocking it. Inside the crate, the tino was stirring, a low, rumbling growl came out of the air holes.
“What are your instructions, young miss?”
Kaylee didn’t know what to make of her new servant. This was not like any domestic robot she’d seen, this machine was itself a weapon, the kind used by the military. “My name is Kaylee. What do I call you?
Kaylee expected the machine to reply with a number, or some other military designation, but it said “You may call me Rocko, if you wish.” It paused, then added, “I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Kaylee.”
“Hello?” Dooley called out. He could hear something, too faint to tell what the sound was. The tino hasn’t come back, and he was grateful for that. “Hello, anybody!” He shouted. With the crate upside down, he couldn’t open it enough to get himself out. He had managed to get himself right side up, and, by standing and pushing with his legs, he got the lid beneath him open a crack, into which he jammed the end of a flashlight. He had air to breathe, but no way out. The crate was apparently wedged against other crates. He was stuck, until somebody came by and got him out. Valjean would likely leave him there, or possibly shoot him. Dooley’s best hope was for the freighter’s crew to find him. How long would that take? Then, he had a chilling thought. Valjean planned to blow up the freighter once he’d found the item he wanted, blow it up by exploding the ship’s fusion engines. That was what Taney had in his backpack; explosives. Dooley needed to get out of the crate, get off the ship. “Hello! Anyone! Help! Hello!”
CHAPTER 16
Manny counted the corridor sections, counting down as he approached the airlock where Jen had said the pirate shuttle was docked. He tried to move silently, walking very softly. Manny had considered taking his shoes off, but socks were slippery, and his feet were so sweaty that they made more noise than his sneakers. How come the good guys in video programs always were able to walk so quietly? Up ahead of him, there was a thumping sound. Thump. A long pause. Thump again.
The corridor ahead jogged to the left around a major structural frame. Manny slid along the wall until he was next to the frame. He held his breath and slowly peaked his head around the frame.
There was a pirate, further down the corridor. A man, leaning back against the wall, looking bored, throwing a knife into the opposite wall, where the wall was made of a material softer than the hard substance Manny was standing next to. The pirate threw the knife, hard. It hit with thump sound. Nonchalantly, the pirate pushed himself off the wall, retrieved his knife, leaned back against the wall, checked the point of the blade, and threw the knife again. Thump.
Manny ducked back behind the frame. What to do now? A few meters beyond the pirate was the airlock, the inner door was open. So, the pirates’ shuttle was still docked! Kaylee had been right, they never tried to rescue his mother! Manny seethed with anger. He needed to do something. He needed a plan.
Manny unlocked the hatch, and turned the handle slowly, as quietly as he could. Jen had done a good job with maintenance, the hatch opened without a squeak from the hinges. He set his backpack down, and took out the one item he needed, the rest would only slow him down. This time, he did take his shoes off and left them behind. He crawled on hands and knees into the access tube, moving slowly, carefully, trying not to bump into anything that would make a sound. At the other end, Manny grasped the handle with one hand, and held the items he’d brought along with his other hand. The handle would make a click, Manny knew, when the lock disengaged. He waited for the pirate to throw the knife again.
Thump. Becker was getting good at this. His knife wasn’t even especially made for throwing. He was aiming for a dot on the wall, an inspection plate, or something like that. With Valjean and his team away, Becker had gotten bored with his job of guarding the shuttle. He strode over to the knife, pulled it out of the wall, and nodded with satisfaction that it had hit in almost exactly the same spot as his previous throw.
Click.
He held the knife up, and put his other hand on his holstered gun. What was that sound? Becker walked one way down the corridor, then the other way. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then, he shrugged, leaned back against the wall, and checked the point of this knife. The sound was probably the ship’s hull popping, as it expanded and contracted. He was used to ship’s hulls making all sorts of noises, and he knew which sounds could be safely ignored. Becker threw the knife again. Thump.
Manny had been holding his breath, since he’d turned the handle, and the opening lock had made a click. Now the hatch was ready to be pushed open. He waited for the thump.
Thump.
Manny pushed the hatch open with his left hand, holding onto the handle to keep from falling on the deck. His head and shoulders were protruding into the hallway, with his right hand, he swung the hypodermic needle, with its load of tranqulizer, into the pirate’s leg. The dispenser fired automatically, and Manny let go, the needle still stuck in the surprised pirate’s leg, as Manny jerked back inside the tube and slammed the hatch closed with a loud, ringing clang.
Becker dropped his knife, reached with one hand for his gun and the other
hand to pull the needle out. He was too slow to jam his foot into the hatch and prevent it from closing, his foot bounced off the handle, throwing him off balance. The needle was yanked out and sent flying down the corridor. He got the gun out and fired several times at the hatch, the shots seemed to have no effect. Becker didn’t expect the gun to have much effect, the whole point of the weapons they’d brought along was that they weren’t powerful enough to shoot holes in a spaceship. The guns were for killing people.
He was feeling dizzy. What was in that needle? Keeping the gun pointed at the hatch, Becker walked unsteadily backwards, and picked up the hypodermic. A sedative, it said. Full strength. Do not use unless blah, blah, blah. He couldn’t read the rest of the label, his eyes weren’t focusing. The gun fell out of this hand. What was that in front of him? The deck? It looked close. Becker toppled over, full-length, to crash on the deck, out cold.
Manny slid along the wall, back to the bend in the corridor. He peered around the frame. Becker was face lying down, his gun a meter away. Was the pirate faking? He wasn’t moving at all. Manny edged around the corner, ready to run at the slightest sign of movement from the pirate. He moved closer, close enough that he could see something shiny, wet, on the deck, under the pirate’s mouth. Blood?
No.
The pirate was completely unconscious, face-down in a puddle of spit drooling from his mouth. Manny almost laughed out loud. He reached forward with his foot and nudged the side of the pirate’s face, the man’s head rolled, then flopped back.
Manny looked at the gun, bent down, and picked it up. The safety was off, he flicked the selector to safe the weapon. He had only ever handled a weapon a couple of times, in the Boy Scouts, and those were target pistols, at summer camp. This thing was heavy, awkward, he wasn’t sure he would be able to aim it properly if he needed to use it. Still, it would be a handy thing to have. He shrugged off his backpack, and took off his belt, which he used to tie the pirate’s hands securely behind his back. The pirate was too big and heavy for Manny to move. If he started to wake up, Manny could give him another dose of sedative, although he didn’t know if that much sedative might kill. Even the dose he’d already injected into the pirate might be too much.
Fortunately, the holster the pirate wore buckled on the side, Manny unfastened it and pulled it off. Even on the last notch, it almost fell down past Manny's hips, he had to put it through one of his belt loops to keep it from dropping to the deck. With the gun in the holster, the belt actually fit better, with all the weight on one side.
Manny picked up his backpack, and stepped carefully into the airlock. The outer door was closed, although the shuttle’s door was open on the other side. The light on the outer door was green, indicating a good, airtight seal. Manny took a deep breath and pressed the button to open the door. It slid aside, he hadn’t expected it to. It seemed too easy.
With two steps, he was inside the shuttle. It was small, the pirate on the intercom hadn’t been lying about only it having four seats; two pilot seats, and two cramped passenger seats. The ceiling sloped down sharply in the cockpit, even Manny would not be able to fully stand up there. Aft, between the two passenger seats, there was a narrow door. Manny, one hand on the butt of the gun, opened the door. It was storage, empty except for one e-suit without a helmet, hanging from the wall. He went back into the cabin, and stared in bewilderment at the controls, display screens covered every surface within reach of both pilot seats. The cockpit looked vaguely familiar, perhaps he had flown this type of shuttle in a simulator, once or twice. How could-
Manny was amazed to see a control card in its slot, between the two seats! The pilot, probably the man unconscious in the corridor, had left his card active. For a faster getaway, perhaps? Manny reached between the seats and touched one of the screens. All the screens blinked once, then came on, with numbers and symbols, geometric shapes, instrument readouts. He took his backpack off and set it in the copilot seat. Perhaps he could fly this shuttle, really fly it? At least, undock it, and drift it away from the freighter, so the pirates would be trapped there, until the Navy arrived? He couldn't try that until Kaylee was also aboard the shuttle.
First, though, he remembered, he needed to do something else. He pulled the pilot’s control card out of its slot, and all the displays went dark again. Manny took a single hypo out of his pack, just in case, and ran out of the shuttle, tucking the control card into his pocket, next to Jen’s access card.
He didn’t have to go far to find what he was looking for, an intercom. He plucked the microphone out of its slot, turned the system on, and spoke into the microphone. “Code red. Code red. Repeat, code red.” He and Kaylee had decided Red would mean the pirates had betrayed their word, and the shuttle was still attached to Ace. Code Blue would have meant the shuttle was gone, and it was possible the pirates really did intend to rescue people from the command section, and trade them for the alien thing.
Valjean and Taney had reached the aft end of the cargo pod, where there were no more doors, only solid bulkheads. Also, no sign of the children, the box, or whatever was making the roaring sound. The two pirates worked their way back forward, clearing one compartment after another, working quickly, efficiently. They met up in the center, Valjean having cleared the right side, Taney the left.
The intercom crackled. “Code red. Code red. Repeat, code red.”
Taney looked to Valjean for guidance. Valjean shook his head, annoyed. The brats were playing games again. He waved his gun, indicating they should keep going.
Taney glanced into the center compartment, and pulled his head back quickly. The compartment looked like a battle had been fought there; crates were knocked around, one of them had burst open after it fell to the deck. Valjean and Taney exchanged hand signals, crept up to the sides of the doorway, then swung around the corner, guns sweeping the area. It was empty. Taney walked forward, and kicked some debris with his feet. He bent down, and picked up a piece of debris, along with a scrap of paper. “Oh, damn.” He said.
“What?”
“Boss, I think this is what’s left of the box we’re looking for.” He held the piece up to the light. “Uh-huh, yup, there’s part of a serial number here, ends in 6-D614, the rest of the number must be on another piece around here somewhere. Hey, there’s a note here, boss.”
Valjean snatched the piece of paper from Taney’s hands. It was in block letters, written with a black marker.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOY THE CANDY. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED?
He didn’t understand, until he saw scraps of candy wrapper on the deck. The box. The box he’d been chasing, for hours now. The box that was their only way to find the item they wanted, in the vastness of the space freighter. Valjean crouched down to examine the remains. The box looked like it had teeth marks on it. Big teeth marks! What the hell?
A low growling sound made him look up. At the far end of the next compartment, there were two dark shapes, moving shapes. “Taney?”
“On it, boss.” Taney raised his pistol, set the scope to infrared, and magnified the image. “We’re in trouble!” he shouted, rotated the gun’s selector to full power, and fired, as the animals ran forward.
Taney’s shot were accurate, he knew he’d hit both of the creatures. It did not have the expected effect. Both animals flinched, but only flinched, and slowed down. They were wary now, aware their prey could sting. “Uh, boss?” Taney fired again, and again. “It ain’t working!”
Valjean didn’t recognize these animals, and had no idea why they were roaming the cargo pods of a starship! Those brats had something to do with it. What the hell else could go wrong? He raised his gun and fired, stalling for time. If Taney’s more powerful weapon didn’t work, Valjean’s pistol would be worthless. The creatures kept coming, almost side by side, they were now into the compartment, low to the ground, stalking. They were massive, he could see, covered in what looked like armor plating, all muscles, armor, teeth and claws.
“We can’t outrun them!” Taney
shouted in desperation.
Valjean’s lip curled up in a sneer. “I don’t have to outrun them,” he said as he casually shot Taney in the leg, and knocked the gun out of the other pirate’s hand, “I only have to outrun you.” Valjean turned, ran, and was gone.
Taney shouted in pain, his left leg unusable. He fell to his knees, and the tinos hesitated, unsure what this new development meant. Taney pulled out his backup weapon from a holster strapped to his lower right leg. He fired it at the tinos, and kept firing, as he shucked out of the heavy pack, got to one leg, and hopped over to the wall. Grasping the ladder, he squeezed off four more shots, before the little gun's energy pack was depleted. Taney threw it at the tinos, who roared and charged.
They almost got him on his way up, one claw dug painfully into the boot on his left foot. He climbed frantically, pulling himself up rung over rung with his powerful arms, until he reached the top, near the ceiling. There was nowhere to go, the hatch there was locked. Below him, one of the tinos had climbed onto the crates, and was leaping up, trying to get the human. If the creatures could jump another two meters, Taney would be dragged down and torn apart.
Taney had survived worse situations that this. The loss of blood from his leg was making him lightheaded, and the scent of blood dripping down was making the tinos go crazy. He wedged his good leg between the ladder and the wall, took his shirt off, and cut it into strips with his knife. He cut away his left pants leg and examined the wound. It looked clean, the blood was dripping, not spurting, Valjean hadn’t hit an artery. Taney bound up the wound as best he could, and used the rest of the cloth to bind himself, around the waist and chest, securely to the ladder. If he became tired, or unconscious, he would not fall to the waiting jaws below.
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