Blood of the Scarecrow: Book 3: Solstice 31 Saga

by Martin Wilsey

  “These men are not security. What do we do with them?” Hagan asked, as he went through their pockets, finding nothing at all.

  “Drop them out on surface with others,” Kuss spat.

  Hagan pressed a hypo spray to Zimmerman's neck. With a small hiss, his eyes shot open.

  “That feels like iced vodka in my veins. Wasted and awake. What happened?” He staggered to his feet.

  “They knew we were coming,” Hagan said.

  “Mother pus bucket...you two.” He pointed at Cine and Jude. “You’re coming with me.”

  They each picked up two dart guns and stashed them in their thigh pockets. As if by magic, they both produced black flutes from thin air.

  “Don't ask,” Hagan said, as he tightened a zip tie around wrists and ankles.

  “Come,” Jack barked.

  They went right behind him into the lock-truck. The airlock was secured, detached, and he drove it back to the security terminal. All the truck-locks were occupied, so he rolled past and pulled into a random private lock and attached.

  The inner lock opened, and it woke an attendant there.

  “Hey, you can't park there...” Then, he saw the size of Jack and the uniform he wore. Both were intimidating. Jack pushed him aside and activated his comms console. He typed a short message. Msg: T. HUDSON Lava L11

  A few seconds later, a live video was visible in Zimmerman's security HUD. No audio. Video only.

  “Smart girl.”

  Jack could tell she was walking, but not so fast that she would draw attention. Instead of telling Jack where she was, she simply looked at the boulevard signs.

  “What's happening here, man? I mean officer,” the kid said, from his chair that he had wheeled back.

  “You will stay out of the way, ask no questions, and forget we were here,” Jack said to him, but he was focused on his HUD.

  Hudson rounded the corner, entering the long hall that led to the gates.

  “How did she know where to go?” Jude asked, “This is not L11. It's G6.”

  “Prearranged code, for the hall and gate subtract five from each,” Jack said, quickly.

  The corridor to G6 was about one hundred meters long. Zimmerman saw her round the corner into the hall, and two seconds behind her, four men moved along at a quiet but increasing pace.

  “Hudson! Run!” Zimmerman yelled, drawing both sidearms.

  They were both suppressed Frange pistols, designed to pierce unarmored flesh but not cause hull breaches. Jude and Cine swung around and fired the trank guns. Hudson ran as fast as she could along a wall, trying to stay out of the line of fire. The four men fired guns of their own. They were loud and were followed by the sound every resident of Luna feared.

  A hull breach.

  “These shit bricks are firing armor piercing rounds!” Jack yelled, as he dropped a second attacker with a shot to the knee.

  Hudson got hit, in the hip, from behind. It spun her around in a spray of blood, but she was still fifteen yards from the gate.

  Jack watched, in amazement, as Jude and Cine dashed into the corridor, like they were shot from a catapult. They each crisscrossed the hall and ran halfway up the wall on the opposite side.

  While they were distracted, Jack took careful aim and hit one in the throat, as the other’s face fairly bristled with darts.

  The emergency airlocks were coming down at both ends of the hall. Without missing a beat, Jude and Cine each grabbed one of Hudson's arms and ran, dragging her.

  They all slid under the emergency door, just in time.

  Without waiting, as the air got thinner, they ran to the lock-truck with Hudson screaming in pain.

  “Come on, kid. In here!” Zimmerman yelled, but the kid was missing half his skull.

  Jack jumped in and hammered the control to close and detach.

  “For fuck’s sake, Hudson. You're getting blood all over everything,” Jack yelled, as he slammed it into drive.

  Jack heard ripping cloth. Jude was at his elbow.

  “It's your blood. Not hers.”

  Jude tried to take his right hand from the wheel. That's when he noticed the arterial spray from a wound to his wrist.

  Jude wrapped it extremely tight. The pain came then.

  “Skunking, motherfucking, sons of leper whores...” he cursed, as he docked the truck, none too gently.

  Cine hammered the control as soon as it turned green.

  The rest of the crew was there, dart guns at the ready.

  “Hagan! We take off in two minutes. Doc, Hudson is wounded. Bad. Projectile weapon,” Zimmerman barked.

  “He is wounded too, mum,” Cine said politely to Kuss.

  “Time for me later,” Jack growled, as he grabbed two of the unconscious men by the collars and tossed them into the lock-truck. Jude helped as well, and before the last one hit the pile, the airlock closed and the detachment sequence started.

  “Hagan, we are clear! Head out to deep space. And change vectors a few times.”

  And then, he fell like a great tree.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Freedom Station

  “Freedom Station was just that. Free from the politics of Earth. Free enterprise with all its good and bad, supply and demand. The grav-plate transport containers and catapult systems on Earth and Luna made the exchange of goods and the transport of people inexpensive, easy, safe and reliable. Almost 14 million people lived there. And the population was growing.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

  <<<>>>

  “Why are you dressed like that?” Hume asked Barcus. “Do you have any idea how funny a tunic and cloak would be in Zero-G?” Hume said, amused.

  “I have pants on,” Barcus smiled.

  “OK, not as funny as I'd like, still funny. But people will notice your fashion sense. Do you really want to be noticed?”

  “I don't think I will get to see much of the station,” Barcus said, as it came into view.

  “I can't believe the traffic?” Worthington said. “I've been in deep space too long. This is already making me itch.”

  “Be glad we have AI control. You can just sit back, and let the Station AI and Stu take care of it all.”

  “The Sedna is flying in on manual and will be required to dock at the public south spire,” Rand said. “Damn, this station is big.”

  The docking on the north spire N73, lock 22, was uneventful and fully automated. Ships of all sizes came and went constantly. The starboard side airlock was not used often and opened directly into the cargo bay.

  Hume and Rand were the first down the ladder. Barcus stopped Worthington just before he descended.

  “The Grace will dock at the south spire S191, lock 9, in twenty-six minutes. You need to get the injured back here and into the med bay, fast and quiet,” Barcus said. “No, no, I don't have time to explain. We have a few other things that need doing.”

  Worthington just looked at him. Concern was etched in his face.

  “Everything will be alright,” Barcus lied.

  “Don't worry, Captain. I will keep him out of trouble,” Po said, with humor.

  “I was worried about you. You're the trouble maker!” Jim smiled, as he pointed an accusing finger at Po.

  Neither of them saw Barcus swallow hard, nor his smile falter, for an instance.

  “Let's meet for lunch at noon, level 40, south. I feel like soup.”

  Jimbo laughed and slid down the elevator.

  ***

  “Hagan! Do you want me fly this thing?” Kuss yelled, because of a third near collision.

  “Just open the blast shields all the way and I can manage. Who knew how useful a left thumb was,” Hagan said, as he pulled back into the approach’s holding pattern.

  “Grace, you are clear to dock. South, S191, lock 9,” came the AI’s calm, controlled voice over the comms.

  He was lucky that gantries 8 and 10 were both empty. He
got it close enough, so the station’s mag clamps could reach out, like robot tentacles, and draw them to lock in.

  Everyone relaxed when the airlock seal indicator turned green.

  They waited ten minutes, to make sure a security detail of shooters didn't swarm the level. The cameras on this level were openly broadcasting, so they watched.

  “How will we find Worthington?” Kuss asked, just as the lift opened and Worthington, Rand, and Hume stepped out onto level S191. They moved directly to airlock number 9 and looked directly into the camera.

  “Get them ready to move,” Kuss barked.

  She reached the airlock just as Wex opened it.

  “Status?” was all Worthington said, as he entered.

  “We ran into bit of trouble, sir. Have wounded,” Kuss said.

  Hagan added a wave with his thumbless left hand. “Most of us are wounded, but three need immediate medical attention.”

  “Hume, get a private express lift. Use this to pay.” Jim handed her a cash swipe card. She jogged out to the kiosk and ordered one up. The kiosk said it would be there in three minutes and began to count down.

  “Captain, this is Tawana Hudson; she took a bullet to the pelvis. She can't walk. We can move her; she had painkillers and first aid nanites, but we need to get a closer look.”

  “I can walk!” Elkin said, groggily.

  “Elkin was shot in the back. She has a lot of trauma under her tough skin and a broken scapula.”

  “What the hell is that?” Rand said.

  “That side of beef is Officer Jack Zimmerman. He didn't notice he had been shot three times and was running out of blood. He needs to get into the med bay. Stat!” Shaw said.

  Zimmerman was on an improvised gurney made of a pallet loader. As they drifted it out into the corridor, the lift arrived.

  “I will stay with the ship, for now. Go,” Wex said, standing there with a trank gun.

  They kept moving.

  Worthington called to her, as he closed the inner airlock door, “No one will bother you for at least twenty-four hours. Lock it behind us.”

  The door closed.

  Wex dropped the rifle on the floor, right there, and headed for the bridge.

  ***

  Barcus and Po exited the lift on level 1. Lights came up as they stepped into the empty corridor. The air was cold enough here that they could see their breath. Barcus unclasped his cloak and wrapped Po in it. Her one piece flight suit didn't provide as much insulation as his tunic.

  The lift paused only briefly at the equator to change orientation and then continued.

  “The equator is always down,” is the old saying on Freedom Station, and it is literally true.

  The single, central gravity core is an engineering wonder. This is very unnerving, to some. The south spire always points directly at the center of Earth. The north spire, away from earth. The station’s orbit was at the halfway point between Earth and Luna and had a cycle of fourteen days. The globe of the station was built with many lesser spires that were either privately or publicly owned, for various uses.

  The corridor was wide and could handle vehicle traffic, if necessary. It had a gentle turn to the left as they walked. His boot heels echoed, as they watched light come on in front of them and shut down behind them.

  They walked by perhaps a hundred doors marked with sequential numbers that all began with N1. A few hallways intersected and seemed to go straight out for a kilometer. Some were dark, some lit.

  He finally stopped in front of a nondescript door marked N1-1208. There was a screen beside the door that, when touched a keypad came up but no prompts.

  Barcus typed the following: H5BHHR7!jet%bu*?QWb77cd6C.

  The door clicked, and he opened it, stepping in after Po. It was more like a closet than a room. It was two meters by three meters, with racks lining the wall opposite the door. Po stepped to the side as Barcus touched the fronts of three panels that slid down, revealing two glowing globes that were like crystal balls with perfect clouds drifting inside. The larger of the two was golden like the sun; the other was deep blue and the size of his head.

  “Hello, Station. My name is Barcus.”

  The blue globe responded, pulsing as the words sounded.

  “This is a restricted area.”

  “And I had the restricted access codes,” Barcus said, flatly.

  “How may I be of service?”

  The golden globe pulsed, like sunlight.

  “We are the ones that have come to be of service to you, Station.”

  He looked at the blue orb then.

  “Someone has hidden a massive nuclear device on Freedom Station.”

  ***

  The corridor of N72 was not empty as the lift doors opened. A small shuttle had just arrived with passengers from Earth. They looked like workers from a single company. All wore the same coveralls and caps. All but a few of the two dozen were Asians, speaking in Mandarin. The workers ignored the wounded party. Stu opened the airlock and they moved inside without a word. The med bay opened, and Zimmerman was transferred to it. He barely fit inside. Worthington had stopped them from speaking in the lift and now everyone began at once.

  “Wait, one at a time,” Worthington said.

  “Sir, they know we're back,” Hagan said, as he unwrapped his bandage. “This guy is a cop on Luna, Jack Zimmerman.

  “Number two on Echo's list. A good pick for Everett. She is a data scientist named Hudson.

  “And, Johan was a bartender in one of the busiest port bars on Luna. All positioned well for information.” He got the bandage off, and it was ugly.

  “He found us,” Jude said, pointing at Zimmerman.

  Everyone looked at Jude, since she spoke so rarely.

  “They sent people after us wherever we went. They have a description of the Sedna, and of us,” Hagan said, as the scan completed on Zimmerman and a flurry of small robotic arms began to cut off his clothes and repair wounds on his wrist, calf and left bicep.

  “Captain Worthington, I do not mean to interrupt. But did you know your family is on Freedom Station?” Hudson said. “If they know you are here, they may try to take them in, for leverage.”

  “Dammit,” Worthington cursed.

  “Sir, their residence is at this address: South level 32, S32-55947.”

  “Got it,” Rand said, “Where's Barcus?”

  “No time for that now. Rand, Hume, you are with me. We have to keep our HUDs dark so we will be out of touch, unless it's an emergency. Kuss, patch ’em up as best you can.”

  “We come, go too,” Cine said, spinning her flute in her fingers.

  ***

  “I am the AI responsible for all aspects of security on this station,” pulsed the deep blue orb.

  “I thought your function was simply as a critical systems fail-safe. So, if Station goes off-line, the people still have air and water and power,” he said, to one sphere, and then to the other. “You don't mind if I call you Station, do you?”

  The golden sphere pulsed, “Not at all. It's been a very long time since anyone called me anything. Thank you.”

  “Ever since they installed this, I bet.”

  Barcus gestured to the blue orb.

  “Why yes. In fact, that's true,” AI~Station said.

  “And what will you call me?” the blue orb asked, in a voice that was both vain and jealous.

  “I won't need to call you anything,” Barcus said, as he bent close and looked into the blue swirling clouds. They were laced with streaks of black.

  “Why?”

  With the speed of a cobra, the point of the Telis blade stabbed into the orb and it shattered into tiny pieces. Viscus fluid splashed into the rack and its light extinguished.

  “Station, are you alright?” Barcus asked.

  After a long pause, it began to glow brighter. It finally said, “I'm free again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Gone

  “And then, she was just gone.”

  --Solstice 31 Inc
ident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

  <<<>>>

  They stood in front of the interactive display map on level 32, on the kiosk by the lift, like tourists looking for a brothel.

  “Stop looking suspicious,” Rand chastised Jude and Cine.

  There was a lot of foot traffic on this level as it approached midday.

  “Here it is, S32-55947. This way,” Worthington said, as he walked briskly.

  It didn't look out of place here. The main corridors were like highways. Slower traffic just kept to the right.

  “We have to move out to the 5th loop, spoke 59, residence 47.”

  Worthington followed the most direct path, and they traveled corridors that became smaller, like capillaries.

  They rounded the corner from loop number 5 onto spoke 59 and immediately saw the hall was full of uniformed security. They were gathered around a single, open door. They heard shouting from within the residence.

  “What do you mean the comms are down!”

  “Sec is not responding. No HUD data either.”

  “What about the dispatcher?”

  “The dispatcher is there; she has nothing as well.”

  “Goddammit, find them.”

  A man burst out of the room, wearing the same blue uniform, with a few more stripes on the right sleeve.

  “You two, stay in case they come back. The rest of you, come with me to the sec control room to find out who is trying to ruin my day.”

  They stormed off in the opposite direction.

  “We find out if that is 47,” Cine said.

  And without waiting for permission, they walked up the hall toward the guards, who seemed to be conversing in quiet tones instead of doing their jobs. Cine and Jude suddenly seemed like they were laughing teenage girls. They rubbernecked to see into the room as they walked by.

  It looked like one of the guards greeted them, and they stopped to talk with them. Cine said nothing and stood slightly behind Jude with both of her hands covering her mouth, as if she were shy about showing her bad teeth.