by T. R. Harris
John Tindal stood next to Riyad’s wheelchair. “A diversion.” he stated. “Riyad’s in pretty sad shape—sorry, dude—so we could say he’s having a seizure and needs medical care. That would at least get the frickin aliens to open the door again.”
“That’s if they even care what happens to Riyad now that they know it’ll be the Juireans arriving here first,” Chief Rutledge offered. “But it’s worth a try.”
“That’s a good idea; let’s think on that for a while,” Adam said. “We also have the confusion and chaos of the Juirean attack. Again that’s assuming they can even get to Elision. If the entire Nebula has joined the Kracori, then the Juireans may not make it this far. Still, there’ll be a lot of confusion around here.”
“That’s still a few days away,” Tobias said. “And the longer we wait, the weaker we’ll all become. I don’t think the Kracori have any intention on feeding us. That would be a waste of their resources.”
“If they even keep us alive all that time,” said John Tindal.
“Then we can’t wait,” Adam said. “Look around the room to see if anything can be used as a weapon. John, check the wheelchair.”
Admiral Tobias tipped one of the cots onto its side and began to tug on the lateral supports. “McCarthy did say that the Kracori were not used to imprisoning their own kind—let alone aliens—and when they did, they were mainly political prisoners. They may not have considered the will to escape when they built this place.” He withdrew a seven-foot-long metal rod from the cot and held it up for all to see, a wide grin painting his face. “Idiots,” he said, punctuating his prior comment.
“Improvise, overcome and adapt,” John stated as he tipped his own cot onto its side.
Chief Rutledge grunted. “That’s a damn Marine saying, Tindal.”
“It fits, Chief, it fits.”
Within minutes, all the able-bodied Humans in the cell were armed with seven-foot-long metal rods—spears—and anxious to use them.
“We need a plan for when we get out,” Adam said. “I was unconscious when moved here, so did any of you get a good lay of the land outside the cell?”
Chief Rutledge stepped up to Adam. “Yeah, we all did. We’re pretty deep in the building, with a lot of turns. And I believe we’re about three stories below ground level.” He looked to his colleagues for confirmation. Both Tindal and Tobias nodded their agreement.
“I’m sure it’s still night outside,” Admiral Tobias offered.
“The place seemed pretty deserted when they brought me here,” Riyad said. He coughed before continuing. “Again, my friends, I will only slow you down. I’m perfectly at peace with you leaving me here.”
“Yeah, but we’re not,” Adam said. “Besides, dickhead, you’re our mission. It wouldn’t do to come all this way and then leave you here. So cut out that line of talk. We all go or none of us go.”
“Hoo-rah!” John Tindal grunted. The other SEALs nodded. It was game time.
94
Jym was in the pilothouse of the Pegasus, practicing controlling the ship’s systems with his ATD when Kaylor entered.
“I think something has gone wrong with the mission.”
Jym swung his seat around and sat up straighter. “Why do you say that?”
“Adam has been in contact with me surreptitiously so that McCarthy would not be aware of our following, and the last contact was when they were leaving the main ship for the surface of Elision. Nothing since, and when I try to communicate back in his direction all I get is nothing. You’re much better at using the ATD; can you try?”
“Of course, but I will need a normal comm link between here and there. Have you tried contacting Sherri and the Formilians?”
“I get nothing there, too.”
Jym frowned, which simply meant his ears drooped some and his eyes narrowed. “No communication with any of the assault team?”
“Not for four hours or more.”
“I think you need to get Ruszel up here; I’ll try bursting a navigation beacon through the Shield and see if anyone picks it up, but comm through all that turmoil is nearly impossible without a direct link. If it does get picked up, then that ship may be in contact with Elision, and I can gain access then.”
Ruszel had spent plenty of time in the pilothouse of the Pegasus, enough time to grow envious of the large, concentrated-array spaceship. His ship—the one he’d acquired from Riyad Tarazi—employed a similar gravity drive, but it was half the size of the Pegasus. Even at that, it was still the fastest ship in the Nebula. However, the grass was always greener....
“I am linked in to Elision through a series of other ships that have joined the Kracori forces,” Jym announced as Kaylor and Ruszel entered the pilothouse. “So far no security alerts. Either the mission is proceeding with stealth, or the fate of the team is not being broadcast. And still nothing from the Volseen ship and Sherri.”
“So the rescue has failed?” asked Ruszel, his tone more curious than concerned. Even though he resented being taken captive by a splinter group of the rescue team, he did owe his current fortune to Riyad Tarazi. Just from a peripheral viewpoint, he was curious about the results of the mission.
“We cannot determine that. We have no comm links with any of the Humans or the Formilians.” Kaylor answered. “It seems strange that we would lose contact with both the surface team and those still in orbit.”
“Wait one…” Jym said, holding up a hand. “I have a link with an orbiting ship reporting a hazardous debris field not on any of the charts. It is the only debris field in orbit around the planet and the reporting vessel is concerned at the sudden appearance of the hazard.”
“That could be the remains of the ship containing the orbiting team, the one with Sherri still aboard,” Kaylor said, his voice trembling.
“Then we could have had a catastrophic failure of the mission,” Jym added.
“Then there is no reason to stay here,” Ruszel said, suddenly energized at the prospect of returning home. “I promise I will not report any of this to the enforcers if we return to Tel’or now.”
“No,” Kaylor said forcefully. “We are going through the Shield. We must know what happened to the surface team.”
“You cannot go into the Dysion Shield!” Ruszel stated. “The transit will be too difficult for you to attempt, and if you do by chance make it to the other side, this ship will draw too much attention. The drive signature is unique and not of any kind in the Nebula. We will be detected.”
“Line us up, Jym,” Kaylor said, ignoring Ruszel’s protestations. He slipped into the pilot seat and began to activate the drive.
“You cannot do this!” Ruszel grabbed Kaylor by the shoulder and spun his chair around. “It is too dangerous. You do not know the Shield.”
Kaylor looked up at the green alien with no emotion on his face. “We’re going through—or at least we will attempt it. We’re part of the mission to rescue Riyad, and as such, we have a responsibility to learn the fate of the other elements of the team. We may not make it through the Shield, but at least we will then die serving the mission. Now leave me alone and let me concentrate.”
Kaylor shrugged off Ruszel’s grip and spun the chair back around to the command console. “I’m creating a shallow well to move us in closer. Jym, can you help with detection and course corrections. This is going to be difficult.”
Jym moved to the navigation station and lit up his screen. “Ready when you are.”
“Okay, let us get this started—”
“Wait!” Ruszel cried out. Kaylor didn’t bother turning to look at him. “You cannot do this—but I can.”
Now Kaylor spun around. “Yes you can, but are you willing?”
“Yes,” Ruszel stated. “I do not want to die, yet if you attempt a crossing yourself, then we all will.”
“I’m willing to take the chance.”
“But I am not. Please give me the seat. I will take us through.”
“Don’t do anything foolish or co
ntradictory,” Kaylor warned as he stood up. Ruszel fell into the chair and spun it around.
“Do not worry. I will do all I can ... but you already knew I would relinquish.”
“I was hoping. You didn’t strike me as the type of being who would passively give in to death, especially when there was something you could do to prevent it.”
The Pegasus moved into the first dense layers of the Shield; already Ruszel was making minor course corrections. “We are not through yet. Whether I succeed or fail will be known in about an hour.”
95
With no one paying much attention to the escape pod, Trimen activated the tiny gravity drive and moved it out of the major traffic lanes surrounding the planet Elision. They moved off in the opposite direction from the Volseen Corridor, since that was where most of the space traffic was entering and leaving the Void. Within five hours, they were a light-year away and barreling towards the brilliant haze that was the Dysion Shield.
Trimen didn’t ask Sherri about the call sign for the Pegasus in all that time, content to let her mysterious mental process play out. Of course, his silence didn’t relieve the pressure she was feeling. She knew the numbers, she just couldn’t recall them. And the more she tried, the harder the task became.
There was food and water in the pod to last two people ten days if they were frugal, and the power would last ten times that. So except for the cramped conditions and lack of privacy, life within the pod was bearable. Even the lack of gravity could be tolerated for the duration of their other supplies without any lasting effects.
Sherri was confident she could recall the numbers if she could just find something to distract her. But with nothing to do in the pod except sit and stare at the forward control panel or out the tiny porthole, her mind kept continually wandering back to the call sign numbers. This only made her more frustrated.
Finally out of desperation, she decided to devote one hundred percent of her mental effort to remembering the numbers. Trying to ignore them and let them just pop into her head hadn’t worked. Maybe a full-on effort would do the trick.
She began by mentally recalling each number from zero to nine, to see if any would seem more prominent than others. She often did this when trying to recall names and was surprised when she would reach a letter and suddenly the name would just appear out of her subconscious. Maybe the same would work with numbers.
After several runs through the digits—with no success—she decided to run them backwards. When she did, the number eight seemed to stick. Eight what? She tried the sequence again, and this time eight seemed to stick in her mind again. Two eights? Was that possible? Or was she just concentrating too much on eight—?
Eight-eight-four-six-two-two.
What was that? She thought. The numbers just seemed to explode in her head. But were they the right ones? The number seemed to bounce off her mental tongue.
“I think I have it,” she said. Her voice cracked and failed to project too much confidence. Trimen picked up on this.
“Are you sure? Your tone is not that confident.”
“I know, but the number keeps repeating itself. It won’t hurt to try.”
“Of course not. What is the call sign?”
She gave him the number. The Formilian entered in the frequency and then pressed the comm button. “Calling the Pegasus. Calling the Pegasus. If this frequency is correct, please respond. Security issues prevail.”
The interior of the pod was completely quiet, except for the roar of their breathing. Every breath was like a siren, and Sherri was afraid they wouldn’t be able to hear a response through the noise. Of course, her perception was amplified by the total lack of a countering sound.
After a minute, Trimen repeated the message. As the time click by, he turned to Sherri. “Maybe your memory is faulty. I would suggest you try—”
“This is the Pegasus! Who is this?” The voice was that of Jym and carried with it all the emotion the tiny bear-like creature could muster.
Sherri leaned into the command console. “Jym it’s Sherri! I’m so glad to hear your voice!”
“The same here. We were under the belief that your ship had been destroyed.”
Trimen also leaned forward. “Can you switch to a secure channel? There is other traffic in the region.”
“Of course; switching now.” There was a slight pause before Jym’s voice blasted through the pod’s speakers again. “Can you still hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Jym!” Sherri said with glee.
“Are you safe?”
“Our ship was destroyed, but Trimen and I managed to escape in a pod. We’re about a light-year from Elision and headed two hundred-thirty degrees azimuth from Elision.”
“Wait one,” Jym said. Sherri knew Jym to be a superb navigator. He would be plotting the general vicinity of the pod.
“We have about ten days’ worth of supplies. You should be able to make the run from Tel’or to the Shield in about three days in the Pegasus—”
“We are already within the Dysion Void, Sherri.” Jym interrupted.
“You’re in the Void? Where?”
“Just one minute. Okay, we are approximately five light-years from your location. Ruszel finally agreed to help us navigate the Shield and when we lost contact with you and Adam, Kaylor decided to enter and investigate.”
“So you have had no contact with Adam either?”
“Not since he left McCarthy’s ship for the surface. Have you had any further communication?”
She hesitated while gathering her resolve. She knew her voice would betray her emotions. “I received a message from Adam that McCarthy had betrayed us again, and then our ship was attacked. Trimen and I were the only ones to escape. But Adam and the team are on Elision. They are either dead or being held captive.”
“Riyad was kept captive. I’m sure it is the same fate for the others.”
“Let’s hope so.” Her voice cracked. She knew that the situation was hopeless, so even if they were being held captive, there was nothing she could do about it.
“Kaylor here, Sherri,” said the new voice on the comm. “We are moving to your position. Time of arrival should be three hours in the Pegasus, assuming no unwarranted distractions.”
“Good,” Sherri said, feeling better now that Kaylor was on the way. The pale-skinned alien was very competent in most things he attempted.
“Once we have you onboard, we will then plan the rescue together.”
“Rescue?” Sherri was taken aback by the word.
“Of course,” Kaylor said his own voice strong and confident. “We are still a viable team. And the Kracori will not be expecting a second rescue attempt. The advantage will be ours.”
96
Riyad managed to lift himself out of the wheelchair just long enough for Tindal and Adam to lower him to the floor of the cell. They positioned him so that the moment the door was opened he could be seen. Since the door was hinged and swung inward, there was a natural hiding place where Tobias and Rutledge stationed themselves.
Adam and John Tindal hid their metal rods along the side of the wheelchair, hidden from the view of the door. They would have only a split second to lift them as they moved toward the door.
Adam finally gave his nod, and Admiral Tobias began to bang on the door. “Help! Riyad Tarazi is having a seizure. He could die! Please help!” His voice echoed loudly off the concrete walls of the cell, surely loud enough to be heard outside.
Thirty seconds went by and still no one had come to the door. “It’s not going to work, Adam,” Riyad said. “They don’t give a fuck about us anymore.”
Tobias ignored him and yelled out again. Halfway through his call the latch to the door suddenly clicked. Everyone tensed.
The door swung open and two frowning Kracori took a step into the cell. “Be quiet. The medical condition of you Humans is of no—”
Tobias stepped around the door and brought the thin metal rod down hard on the arms of the lead Kracori, di
slodging his flash weapon. Simultaneously, Chief Rutledge thrust his spear into the chest of the other guard. The rod didn’t penetrate the skin, but it did send the alien tumbling backwards into the outer corridor. Soon all four of the able-bodied Humans were outside the cell, having disarmed the two guards.
The hallway made a sharp turn to the right about fifteen feet away and two startled Kracori appeared just in time to have metal rods slash across their faces. Adam and Tindal grabbed the weapons from the two unconscious aliens while Tobias and the Chief went back in the cell to retrieve Riyad.
A moment later, the five Humans were turning the bend in the corridor ... when they encountered five more Kracori crouching with weapons at the ready. Adam and Tindal lifted their weapons and fingered the triggers. Nothing happened. Instinctively they did it again. Still nothing.
Immediately, Adam knew what was happening. He lowered his weapon and stood in the middle of the corridor, waiting.
A slow clapping sound was heard from behind the row of armed Kracori, and soon Nigel McCarthy was winding his way through the line of aliens. “Congratulations, Mr. Cain,” he said with a wide smile. “Seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes since I left the cell and you have already managed to escape, acquire weapons, and probably would have made it out of the building if I hadn’t anticipated your move.”
He stepped up to Adam and jerked the MK-17 from his hand. “I also saw the cots, you bloody idiot,” he said with fire in his eyes. “I’m just like you, you seem to forget. I was checking the cell for weapons while you were doing the same.” He then reached inside his shirt and pulled out the silver medallion he wore around his neck. “And you also forgot I have one of these. I’m just glad I didn’t have to wait long for your escape attempt. Every extra minute I spend on this bloody planet is keeping me from starting my new life.”