Shock Diamonds

by E. R. Mason

  Then another long wait. Around 5:00 P.M. the walking dead began to return. I had to wait for their influx and the yelling of the guard to end before taking my stroll. It was after 6:00 P.M. before I was able to slam a shoulder into the cell door and pop the bolts. The three of us agreed we would meet at the Griffin’s pickup point.

  I was cutting it too close, especially since Wilson’s guess about my plans had not been entirely correct. Extra time would be required as it was my intention to pay Mr. Silas Killian a visit. They say revenge will always get you in trouble, but they don’t mention the part about living without having served some up.

  Using an excess of caution, I worked my way up to the main floor. The journey was so uneventful it seemed like an empty bad dream. Apparently the aristocracy that worked here favored abandoning the place like a sinking ship the moment they could. With each turn in the corridor, I braced for an encounter, only to find a vacuum left by the earnest haste of the staff. At the first-floor holding cells, I took a moment to glance into the nearest cells and found the one holding my prisoner. His hands were still tied behind his back, rope still on the ankles, white tape across his mouth. He was sitting on a wooden bench attached to the wall, staring down at the floor. No use to stir him up yet.

  Pushing carefully into the VIP section, the air suddenly became cool and smelled like perfume. I knew there were people hereabout but found no one in the kitchen area. The locked door to the medical room nearby had a narrow safety-glass window. The glass medicine case was just inside, exactly as Emma had described. The keypad lock program on my scanner took an excruciating thirty seconds to come up with the number, leaving me standing exposed in the hallway, constantly looking left and right. Inside, access to the glass door of the case was quicker, and to my relief, the scanner was much better at reading the labels on the chemical vials. The XiTau elite had provided every chemical known to man and then some for the purpose of subduing an uncooperative prisoner. There were also pen-sized pneumatic injectors made to order. I took two of the longest-lasting sedative-hypnotics I could recognize, tucked one in my lower leg compartment and the other inside a breast pocket. As I quietly closed the dispensary door, voices came from somewhere nearby. They were speaking English. I hurried back through the double doors to the holding cell area, and watched through the windows.

  “They’re still all pissed off at you, Silas. I’d keep clear of them if I was you.”

  “They’ll come around. They got no choice.”

  “I don’t know. They still blame you for that fiasco with the Arkenau. They say it was the human you sold them that destroyed their ship.”

  “What a crock a’ shit. One man couldn’t have done all that. In any case, I don’t give a crap what they think.”

  “I’m telling you, don’t turn your back on any of them, lest you want to get a dagger in it.”

  The two men had pushed through a lounge door into the hallway. The first man was shaggy-haired with too many lines in his face. He wore a brown, wrinkled, V-neck shirt and gray pants with pockets in the legs, and laced-up combat boots. He had a side arm in a holster. The second man was none other than Silas Killion himself, in an expensive-looking brown leather jacket, well-tailored brown leather pants, and black boots that came up to the knee. They paused as the door closed behind them.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Sumani lizard faces are bad. I get it. If any of them gives me any trouble I’ll kick their asses.”

  “Silas, you don’t want to fuck up the good deal we got goin’ here, do you? You got to hang low. They’ll be gone in an hour. Just keep out of their way, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Careful how much advice you go givin' me, Diggs. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

  “Sorry, Silas. Just watching your back, that’s all. You heading to the Governor’s mansion after the Sumanis bug out?”

  “I guess. They’ve got some new imports I’m supposed to check out. I’ll see you there.”

  “No, you won’t. I got a thing set up in a high-rise. I probably won’t come up for air for two days.”

  Cigar man gave a guttural laugh. “So it’s not all bad, is it, Diggs?”

  Diggs headed for the front entrance, stopped, turned, and gave a quick salute. “Not bad at all, Captain. Let’s keep riding the wave for as long as it lasts, eh?”

  Killion watched him disappear out the front doors, then turned and came up the hall toward me. Vending machines along the way stopped him. He put his thumb up against a payment screen, hit a few buttons, and took something out of the dispensing compartment. It was a band of a half-dozen cigars. He pulled one out, stuck it in his mouth, and tucked the rest inside his jacket. He started to head back the way he had come, stopped and eyed a door by the machines. It looked like a lavatory. He pushed inside.

  I slipped back into the hall and went to the door. With it opened a crack I could see my guess was right. A line of sinks and a huge mirror were visible. I quietly entered.

  This restroom was lavish. There were booths to the left, and sinks with gold-plated faucets on the right. Killion was in a booth. I went to the wall near the sink counter, leaned against it, and casually crossed my legs. With one hand concealing a small stun weapon and the other draped across the butt of my slung rifle, I waited. Killion hummed a happy tune.

  He emerged buttoning his pants. He looked up but gave the blue tinted man with the stubbly skull only a passing glance. He went to the sink farthest from me, placed his unlit cigar carefully on the edge of the counter, and began washing his hands, still humming. He began taking occasional sideward glances my way.

  He pulled a very fancy-looking towel from a dispenser and turned to face me as he dried. “What you looking at? What the hell are you, anyway? You sure aren’t a Sirenian and you ain’t part of the royal guard. You just security for somebody? What are you?”

  “I’m your worst nightmare, Killion.”

  It took him aback. He stiffened and stopped drying. “How do you know my name?”

  “Got a cigar?”

  For a moment, he thought he recognized me. Logic assured him it could not be. Doubt reappeared. His face went through a dozen different expressions. He stepped back in a ready stance. “You can’t be…”

  “They never did find all the bodies from that ship, did they, Killion?”

  “You got to be kidding.”

  “Would I kid you?”

  “So, painted yourself blue and came looking for me, is that it?”

  He was stalling for time.

  “Not really. Just luck.”

  “You weren’t so tough on Tolkien Minor. Maybe you’re not so tough now.” He eyed my rifle still hanging by the strap, estimating if he could get to me before I raised it, sizing up his chances if he did.

  “You’re wasting your time, Killion. I’m not going to give you any more chance than you gave me back then.”

  “You’ll never make it out of here.”

  “I’m as good as gone.”

  He made his move. He was a quick bastard, faster than I had expected. With two lightening-fast steps, he had one hand on my suit as I brought the stun gun to bear. I popped him a good one and he slumped over onto the sink, knocking the valve to the on position, water flowing beneath him.

  No time to waste. I had already spent enough languishing in the moment. A quick glance out the door showed the hall still deserted. The body was slightly too heavy, but adrenaline made up the difference.

  One arm over each of my shoulders, held together like carrying straps. Dragged him out into the hall and plastered him against the wall to get a better grip. Dragged him through the heavy double doors to the holding cell area, but had to stop again, the dead weight too uncooperative. Holding him against the wall, I looked to my left and saw someone in a security-type uniform passing by an intersection. The man stopped and stared. I hooked cigar man under the shoulders and dragged him along like a drunk. The security guy watched for a moment, then waved and continued on.

  Th
e closeness of the cell was a blessing. I plopped Killian down in a sitting position on the hallway floor. These cell doors had locking bars. I lifted it out and opened up. The prisoner inside looked up, saw me, and stood. Behind the white tape on his mouth and the star identity chip on his cheek, he had the expression of someone expecting another beating. I did not bother to introduce myself. I dragged cigar man in and set his body prone on the floor. The prisoner’s expression turned to one of confusion.

  A quick glance out the door showed the hallway still clear. I closed us in and went to the prisoner. He glanced at the body on the floor, took a step back, then stopped and held his ground defiantly. I reached out and tore the tape off his face. He continued to stare but did not speak.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  He did not answer.

  “I’ll call you pathetic, if you like, but you and I are leaving.”

  “Who are you and where am I being taken?”

  “You were being taken to the radiation mines. Instead we’re returning to Earth. Now what’s your name, Pat?”

  “I’m Christopher Demoray. CEO for Space Services Incorporated.”

  “Get your clothes off, Chris. We don’t have much time.”’

  He hesitated and looked again at Killian sprawled out on the floor. “Is he..?”

  “Dead? Hell no. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him….just yet.”

  Demoray held his hands out for me to untie. They were held by oily rope. His ankles had the same. Why waste expensive restraints on someone headed to the mines?

  When Demoray was finally free, he began hurriedly unbuttoning his filthy shirt.

  “Give me a hand with him. We need to put him up on the bench.”

  Together we hoisted the unconscious Killian up onto the wooden surface. As we did, he began to move his head from side to side, trying to shake off the stun. I reached into my lower leg pocket and drew out the injector. I popped the top, held Killian’s chin, and gave him the full dose in the neck.

  “What is that?” asked Demoray.

  “He’ll be a bad drunk for a good forty-eight hours or so. Hurry up with the clothes.”

  Together we fussed and fumbled and got Killian into Demoray’s clothing and Demoray into his. We rolled him over and tied his hands and feet, then repositioned him on his back.

  I straightened up and turned to Demoray. “Last but not least, I need your chip.”

  He stepped back. “No way. They said if I tried to remove it, it would explode.”

  Without warning, I reached out and tore it off. “Guess not.”

  As precisely as possible, I stuck it to Killian’s face. My scanner only needed a single pass to read and translate the thing. It came up with Demoray’s photo, fingerprints, palm print, DNA code, full name, and home planet. I updated the info with Killian’s finger and palm prints, a hastily taken photo, and his DNA signature, all provided by the scanner. We stood back and looked at the new Christopher Demoray. He looked just as he should except he was a bit too clean. I wiped some of the black off my face and smeared it on his. It did the trick.

  Time to leave. We stepped outside, closed the cell, and dropped the locking bar in place, but before we could take a single step voices came from the hall intersection.

  There was a single cell door a few feet away that had been left ajar. I did not need to explain to Demoray. We hurried to it and ducked inside.

  The sounds of grunting lizard voices echoed outside our cell. With great care, I dared a look in time to see the backs of three lizard men dragging Killion out. As soon as they rounded the first corner, we crept along behind and checked. Through the windows in the dividing doors, we could just see Killion being dragged up a ramp and into the lizard ship. Its hatches slid closed. Dust kicked up around, and a second later it jumped upward and out of sight.

  I looked at Demoray and spoke in a low tone. “We cut that a little close, I think.”

  He whispered back, “You must have really hated that guy.”

  “He’s probably the one who brought you here.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “So he’s taking your place where he was sending you.”

  Demoray gave me a solemn stare and did not know what to say.

  I looked at my watch. 7:10 P.M. Out the window, the front entrance area was dark now that the lizard shuttle and its lights were gone. “We’ve got twenty minutes to make the pickup point or we may be here forever.”

  Demoray needed no further coaxing. We began a cautious trot on a path that would lead to the rear entrance. We did not get far. Voices were approaching from somewhere ahead. We ducked through the nearest door and held it open to hear. There were four different voices. The conversation was troubling.

  “You are certain you saw them enter from the front gallery?”

  “Yes, Captain. One had blue-tinted skin and was dragging the prisoner along to the cells. It seemed perfectly normal to me. I thought it was a late inductee.”

  “There were no late inductees admitted. All were safely in their cells being documented. And there were no Sirenians aboard the delivery ship. There is something very wrong with what you saw. How could you not have known that?”

  The four men were in police-styled uniforms. Civil War gray with silver trim. They wore helmets that looked like German World War 2 issue, black with a plasma pulse emblem on the front. We silently closed the door as they passed by.

  We were in some kind of large, very fancy meeting room. Glass meeting tables. Glass podium. Prints on the walls of famous slaveholders. As I turned, I realized Demoray was not with me. I spotted him climbing on a chair behind the podium, reaching for something mounted on the wall. It was a pair of crossed swords that looked like Japanese Samurai weapons. Demoray managed to get his hands on one and pulled it down to inspect it. He saw me watching and hurried back with his prize.

  He leaned close and spoke in a whisper. “It’s real! Do you believe it?”

  “Better than nothing, I guess.”

  “One hell of a lot better.”

  “You know how to use it?”

  “Oh, hell yes.”

  “We may find out.”

  I knew the foursome would soon break up and spread out in their search. The real question was, were reinforcements on the way?

  Chapter 27

  The game had suddenly become much more difficult. The hallways had been deserted and easy. Suddenly, they were now confined space with no cover, corridors that could be cut off at both ends. Every stretch would be a life-and-death gamble.

  Demoray surprised me. He was no slouch. He carried his sword with the blade up behind one arm, keeping the other hand and arm free. We pushed out of the meeting room and moved quickly along two big throw-of-the-dice hallways until reaching a four-way intersection. We were down to fifteen minutes, and I knew Danica would not keep that ship on the ground. I checked my weapon to be sure it was set to heavy stun.

  Then Demoray surprised me again. He asked which way, and when I pointed, broke out in a dead run to the next corner. I dashed along to catch up with him, and grabbed him by the collar.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Easy. I go first, you don’t get killed. I’m the decoy. They see me, that gives you a second to react. I drop to the floor, you take them out, get it?”

  “Standard special ops. They call it 'Turkey Shoot,' and that makes you the turkey.”

  “Hey, I’m not really here. I’m actually on my way to the…what’d you call it? The radiation mines. I owe you. This is a good way to start payback.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “Paintball?”

  “You got to be kidding. Well, just make sure you drop down fast. I don’t want to be dragging your stunned ass all the way home.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have my ass’s full attention. Which way?”

  We made two more sections of corridor before Demoray’s antics actually flushed the enemy out. Halfway down the third stretch,
two security types rounded the corner without checking and met him head-on. As promised, he went down hard, and four pulses from my very ready weapon dropped both of them where they stood. We sprinted over the bodies and held at the next corner.

  “Nice shots,” whispered Demoray.

  “Nice drop.”

  We made the rear entrance with just five minutes left. Even through the dim light, beyond some trees and hedges I could make out the forward upper end of the Griffin, already on the ground. It was a thirty-yard sprint. There was no decision to be made. Thirty yards in the open. Thirty yards to reach freedom. But the internal warning systems were on full alert. The prickly feeling on the forearms. The hair standing slightly on the back of the neck. Those thirty yards looked like a killing field.

  Demoray now had one of the guards' weapons, though he insisted on bringing the sword along, as well. I grabbed and turned his rifle to be sure it was fire-ready and on heavy stun. Although the markings were in alien, I was pretty sure it was set right. He looked me in the eye and noticed a change there. It tightened him up. I braced and gave him the hand signal to move out. Whether or not he knew special ops signals, it was one he understood.

  We made our break. For the first ten yards there was nothing. We got as far as the point where your mind starts thinking you’re going to make it when the first rapid-fire cracking of plasma rifles sounded behind us. Flashes of plasma tubes began zipping by. Either of those can cause you to stoop automatically as you run, but the barrage was so heavy we could not continue at all. We hit the ground, spun, and returned fire with no cover.

  A column of security personnel were flowing from around the corner of the building. Too many to count. Some kneeled to shoot at us; others continued pursuit. We had to take out the ones closing in for fear of being overrun, but that only made others stop to take better aim.