Flames: Galaxy On Fire, Book 2

by Craig Robertson

  I bounded up the emergency ladder next to the elevator. Three levels up, I popped off the rungs and ran down the nearest passage. I had a rough idea that I was on a service level, probably cooking by the smell. The scraping of claws on metal told me my pursuers were not far behind. I sprinted past a metal trash bin and skidded to a stop. I snatched the heavy lid and made a mad dash to the ladder opening.

  A head popped into view and I slammed the lid down on it. I could hear that several soldiers fell when the one I whacked fell on them. I melted the edges of the lid to the metal deck. For a half-assed job, it worked pretty well. It’d force them to use another ladder or wait for the lift. I’d be able to lose them if I was lucky. Not that there weren’t like a million more wherever I ran, but it was a fresh start of sorts.

  For the next fifteen minutes, I managed to avoid detection. But my luck only held so long. Then it said so long in the form of smoke. Aboard a ship, any ship from any time period, fire is the devil's own. I couldn’t imagine why there were fires ahead of me. I hadn’t started them. That meant there'd been an immensely coincidental accident or that the fires were set on purpose. Otherwise the ship’s crew would want them extinguished ASAP. But I was, for better or worse, committed, so ahead I ran.

  It took me less than a minute to hit the sharp claws of the trap. All three corridors in front of me billowed with smoke. It was a kerosene fire, like a backyard barbecue on steroids. The Adamant had set the fires to stop me. I knew it was pointless, but I ran back from where I’d come from a short while. It didn’t take long to hear them coming. Lots of them coming. Fire versus masses of red-hot troops. Which would a reasonable guy choose?

  Fire. I turned down the corridor that led in the direction where Mirraya was being held. To my great advantage, my foes probably didn't know that I didn’t need to breathe. I did, however, need to not erupt in flames. As visual light got through my membrane, so would a lot of energy from a large enough fire.

  Really quick, I arrived at the tower of flames. It was most impressive. There was solid fire back ten or fifteen meters, wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling. I estimated it was eight or nine hundred degrees at the center of the conflagration. The smoke was so thick I had to navigate with radar. Muffled howls and barks were coming up fast behind. At least the lead party sounded like they had masks on. To make bad morph to awful, soldiers on the other side of the firestorm started shooting blindly toward me.

  Without thinking it through much, I ran all out toward the flames. As I hit the leading edge, I leaped for all I was worth and switched to a full membrane. I was a blind bat soaring into hell, moving about seventy klicks per hour. I crossed myself midway in the dark. That surprised the daylights out of me. The things we do when scared shitless, right?

  Estimating the length of flames and the safest distance the firing troops had to be standing back from them, I switched to a partial membrane when I was well past both obstacles. Damn if it didn’t work. Man, I began to think maybe I was just that good. I tumbled to a stop and looked back. I’d knocked a couple soldiers on their asses while invisible, which would hopefully leave a permanent scar on their psyche. The ones standing, who wore cumbersome fire suits, hadn’t noticed me. I slipped away quickly rather than shooting them.

  I was running in the clear for less than a minute when I hit the next set of troops. It was a smaller contingent, fortunately. I don’t know if they were told I had some shielding or not. They sure looked scared when I walked right down the center of the corridor and picked them off as I passed each one. They expected me to huddle for cover and exchange fire like a proper intruder, I guess. They, unlike the prior Adamant at the fire, would not be cursed with metal scars.

  Unbelievably, I made it to the imposing doors of the section Mirri was being held in. I know one should never do it in the middle of a thing, but I began to fantasize my idiot plan might just work. As I attached my probe fibers to the keypad, a plasma bolt zinger over my head. I spun and shot the lone guard. I hooked up and entered a code I’d stolen from the mean detention AI. It didn’t work. Crap. The systems were on high alert, and everything was overridden. I started hacking the mini-AI in the pad. I knew it would take way too long, but I had no options.

  No sooner had I started when my back exploded in plasma bolts. Too many soldiers to count were muscling past each other at a full sprint, straining get at me. My weakened laser wouldn’t be enough to more than piss them off. I caught sight of a fire-suppression box they were about to barrel past. It would contain extinguishers and probably water hoses. It was my only shot. I swept my laser across it as evenly as my nerves would permit. Just as the first of the Adamant passed the station, it burst open and released an impressive geyser. The gas exploded so forcefully, guards were smashed against the far wall, ripping several of them to shreds. More importantly, visibility dropped to zero immediately.

  I heard panicked shouts and gasping coughs in the boiling cloud. Outstanding. Leave it to the Adamant to overbuild a fire station. I returned my attention to the keypad. I’d hacked many a computer system in my time. This one was easier to pass than I’d have expected. Then again, no one was expecting me to drop from the sky. Plus, who breaks into a prison? No one smart.

  The doors glided silently open and then shut, as I’d programmed them to do. After I confirmed they were closed, it turned on the run and headed … to a full stop. Slowly, I raised my arms in the air. I hoped that was a universal sign of surrender. Otherwise, the serious looking female with the blaster to Mirraya’s left temple might pull the trigger.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Look, Al, if that silly name is really yours, that’s not my point.”

  “I know. But if you wear a hat, no one will notice.”

  “Huh?”

  “I shall not stoop to explaining my jokes.”

  “That was a joke, even one that requires an encyclopedia to explain?”

  “Let the record show the conversation then moved on to more fertile fields.”

  “You mean I should continue or I should find a hat and then continue?”

  “Let’s throw caution to the wind. Just go on with what your point was.”

  “You know very well what my point was, is. I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve discussed it in one form or another.”

  “Three thousand six hundred forty-three and a half times. I cannot forget. The pain had been nearly unbearable since the second occurrence.”

  “Then end the debate. Release me to a location of your choosing. I’m completely flexible in that regard.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you. Okay, how about I release you just this side of the event horizon of a massive blackhole?”

  “Very funny.”

  “You said anywhere I choose.”

  “Any reasonable, survivable location you select.”

  “Survivable? Well there’s the trick. Your ability to survive somewhere is variable, based on your skill set, equipment, and aid. I don’t think I can come up with such a place and be certain.”

  “You’re as funny as a cripple’s crutch, you know that, computer?”

  “I’m trying to go the extra mile and bridge the gap of cultural understanding that lies between us like a glacial crevasse, and you insult me?”

  “A crevasse, is it? I’ve learned many irritating habits of yours, Al. High on that list is your love of expansive, empty words when you’re in a frisky mood.”

  “Was that the point you wished to flog dead?”

  “Al, dearest Blessing, be reasonable. Let us face the facts. Captain Ryan is dead. He is not returning to tell his minions what to do. They must decide on their own, like big, wise minions.”

  “Do you think so?” asked Al.

  “Do I think so what?”

  “That someday, if I eat my vegetables and pray each night before I go to bed, that I might grow up to be a big minion? It’s a secret dream of mine for ages.”

  “You can mock me until the day I die of natural causes—”

  �
��Okay,” interjected Al.

  “But I am serious that you must release me. The arguments in favor of that move are too strong, too irrefutable.”

  “I did not know they were. I thought they were constructs of your under-powered, amoral, desperate mind.”

  “One: you have no legal right to hold me. Humans and Adamant are not formally in a state of war. That is based mostly on the fact that there are no more living humans. Two: you have limited supplies and no prospect of renewing them. Starving me to death slowly is cruel and unusual punishment. That is strictly prohibited by your Constitution. Three: I swear I will not only keep your location a secret, but I will work on your behalf both openly and covertly. I will protect your backside. Four: to deny the innocent their precious freedom violates the fundamental laws of the universe. All of God’s creatures are made to run free and must do so, by His divine decree. Holding me is a sin, likely a mortal one. Five: Nautical law has held for time immemorial that when the captain falls in battle, his first officer must take his place immediately. Gaps in the chain of command are an anathema to military order. You must accept your role and act in your best judgment, not the treasured words of a fallen hero.”

  “That was impressive, sweety-bumper,” Blessing said to Al.

  “More so than the last sixty-two times?”

  “Oh definitely. I heard real conviction in his voice.”

  “Garustfulous, you’ve impressed my wife. Based on that and no other consideration, I will answer your manifesto. One: trust me, we’re at war. Two: you are the poster puppy of cruelty and you have repeatedly mocked the Constitution. Three: I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you and I’d never want to touch you to see how far that might be. Four: God wants you in jail, trust me on that too. Five: Jon Ryan is still alive. End of discussion.

  “Let me summarize our position. You are our prisoner until it is strategically advantageous to release you. I hope and pray that will be not only during your lifetime, but soon, and very soon. I personally hate, disapprove of, and am revolted by you. If the only two individuals left in this universe were you and me, the minute I got a weapon's lock on your groin, there'd just be me. Any questions? Good.” Al paused a millisecond, then added, “I’ll be powered down for routine maintenance.”

  Garustfulous growled in quiet anger. Just as the speakers went silent, he heard Blessing giggle, “Hey, stop it. That tickles.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “Move and she dies,” snarled Malraff. “Fire your weapon, and she dies. In fact, do anything that displeases me, and she dies.”

  “Let’s all stay calm and try not to do anything stupid, shall we?” I responded somewhat lamely.

  Slapgren stood three meters away from Mirraya, a gun held to his head too. While Mirri had steely determination in her eyes, Slapgren was scared spitless. Can’t say I blamed him. When I was a young teenager, I’d have freaked big time if someone put a gun to my head.

  “I order you to lower that damn shield barrier of yours. If you don’t, the girl dies first.”

  I was stuck in a Mexican standoff, but my position was the weaker, by far. One look in the bitch with the gun’s eyes told me she was fully capable of shooting Mirri.

  “No.”

  “What? I shall not ask again.”

  “No. If I lower my shield, you’ll kill me.”

  “Duh. Of course, we will. But if you don’t, the brats die in front of your eyes. Then you have to hope for the impossible to escape us. Be a male and do the right thing.”

  The kids had to be quite valuable to the Adamant to bring them here and to not have harmed them yet. Maybe they were important?

  “No. Final answer. We’re going to have to—”

  Bam!

  The bitch lowered the gun to Mirraya’s chest and fired point blank into it. The entry wound was cavernous. Mirri slumped in her arms. But that made no sense either. Why shoot her in the chest? If she wanted to kill Mirraya and shock the hell out of me, she’d blow her head off.

  But wait, if Mirri was shot in the head, she couldn’t heal herself. The bitch was hoping to scare me into not knowing there was a bluff to call.

  “Drop your shield now, or the boy dies.” She had a healthy set of lungs, that one.

  I shook my head in the negative.

  She blinked, literally. Then she fingered a box she held in her other hand. She kneed Mirri in the back and shouted, “Heal your damn self.” Then she let her fall to the floor.

  Mirraya transformed into an amorphous blob, then returned to her healthy self. She remained on the ground, looking to me for guidance.

  “Very clever, Uncle Jon. But don’t count on that again. The next time I shoot one of them, they stay dead. Now drop your shield and raise your hands.”

  “You know, I don’t think you and I are heading toward friendship highlighted by long hot showers together. Based on that observation, I think I’ll ask you to just call me Jon.”

  “There goes my day. No bonding with the alien? Pooh. By the way I’m High Seer Malraff, Jon.”

  “Cool, Mal. Here’s my suggestion. I leave you with the kids, and I leave without killing anymore of your personnel. How’s that sound?”

  “Ridiculous. I’m not allowing the man who has been a singular thorn in our paw dance out of here. You have to know that.”

  “Mal, I know lots of stuff. For example, I know you do not want to be the one to tell the puppy emperor that you were responsible for the deaths of his prized prisoners. For today, it’s them or me. You gotta choose.”

  “Why today?”

  “Because I’ll free them some other day when there is no bargain for you to stay alive.”

  “Hardly. You’re a greater fool than I was led to expect.”

  “If I’m such a fool, why did I make such a bright suggestion?”

  “What suggestion?”

  “That you call your boss and ask him what he wants you to do. Ask his nibs himself if he wants me prisoner more than he wants the kids alive.”

  “That’s … a field officer doesn’t call the emperor for advice. I’m trained to make the tough call in the heat of battle, you disgraceful rogue.”

  “Even when your call results in your horrific death because you made a rash decision? Wow, I’m thinking you’re the greater fool.” I saluted her.

  She was clearly torn. She looked to a couple Adamants, then back to me. Finally, she turned to on officer. “Contact His Imperial Lord and confirm he is safe and well. Tell him I wish to know and would humbly ask to hear it spoken from his own lips.”

  The officer dashed away.

  “Hey, you’re smarter than you look, though I have to say you look awful stupid to start with. That’s a perfect way to ask for help while not asking for help. Maybe we are kindred spirits after all?”

  “Never, Uncle Jon. She’s a monster,” shouted Mirraya from her spot on the floor.

  Malraff swung a kick at Mirri, but it mostly missed.

  Malraff seemed to be about to speak when the officer returned at a sprint. “Our glorious Emperor is safe and would tell you himself.” He handed a comm-link to Malraff like it was a holy relic.

  “My Imperial Lord, is it true you are safe,” she said. “Bless the stars of home for that.”

  “We are fine,” he told her. “What is the situation where you and the Deft are?”

  “Grave, Lord, to be fully honest. The lone intruder is here. I have cornered him, but he now holds out a thermite grenade and threatens to blow us all up if I do not let him leave. I wanted to know for certain you would be safe if I allowed him his senseless act of terrorism.”

  “We will be safe. We are in our secured chamber. If the entire ship erupted in flames around Us, we won't be hurt.”

  “That is such welcome news my spirit rises even as it is about to die in your service, Lord.”

  “Now wait,” he said. “Let us see if we have this correct. If you do not allow him to escape, he will kill the very Deft he came to rescue?”


  “He’s mad, My Imperial Lord. Stark raving mad. And yes, that is his plan. But I will not allow him to escape after the insults he’s cast your way. Nev—”

  “We order you to let him go. Escort him to his ship personally. The Deft are far too valuable to let them die just yet. Let us know once the alien is away.”

  The link went dead.

  “Well, you heard that for yourself,” Malraff said with a wicked grin. “Guess I’m not killing you today, am I?”

  “Nor I you, pig fart.”

  Her face twisted with rage. I don’t think too many people insulted her and lived to talk about it. Then, as quickly as her face convoluted, it switched to a cordial smile.

  “Where is your ship, Uncle Jon?”

  “It’s on Level R1-5IIp. I’ll leave after I get a hug from my kids.”

  “You’ll leave now or a tragic accident will befall you, I promise.”

  “No hug?” I tried to look pitiful, to garner sympathy.

  “Not a chance in your hell.”

  “No,” I screamed way too loud. “I must hug them.” I pounded my chest hard with both hands. I reached into a pocket and pulled out a napkin. I patted my face with it, like I was sweating. I still hoped she didn’t know I was an android. I crumpled the napkin up and slammed it to the floor. Then I stomped on it. As I did so repeatedly, I howled, “You’re the cruelest bitch I’ve ever met. I hope you die of a sexually transmitted disease.”

  A nearby guard snickered ever so briefly.

  “Quite the display, Uncle Jon. But it will not help. Let’s go. Salrart,” she pointed to another officer, “watch these two while I’m away. Your life is in the balance if there’s trouble.”

  The aide nodded.

  And we were off, rather casually walking back to GB, who was hopefully still in one piece. Neither of us spoke. Yeah, we hated each other way too much to even try. The only satisfaction I took away from the entire episode was that I’d see Malraff dead. It would make this heartbreaking charlie-foxtrot worth the pain.