by T. R. Harris
Angus firmed his jaw and looked out into the hallway. “So do I, apparently,” he murmured.
Chapter 15
Seken troops had formed up around the bridge, but there wasn’t much they could do. To come in with explosives would damage the ship’s controls. The Humans also had nine hostages, including the captain of the mothership.
At first, the captain was resistant, but once Monica detailed her plan, he reluctantly agreed to help.
She wanted the Seken to surrender. To a Seken, the word had little meaning, so it came down to making him understand the alternatives. The invaders, the captain was told, had control of the ship’s environment. They could lockdown any section and suck out the air. Sure, some of the crew may survive in environment suits, but for how long? Hours, maybe. Monica was offering the captain a chance to save his crew. To her surprise, he accepted. Angus could see the look in the narrow eyes of the alien. He had decided to live, not to save his crew, but so that he could fight another day. In his mind, he wasn’t surrendering but giving himself more time to plan a counterattack. That was fine by Angus. That would also give the team time to repair the Dart, if possible.
After the surviving one hundred ninety-two Seken were safely locked away in a cargo hold, the team met to discuss their options.
Anton had just returned from inspecting the Dart.
“Can it be fixed?” David Cross asked.
“Yes, but it will take time. The Seken have what we need, just that there has been a lot of damage.”
Angus knew the mission would be a bust without the Dart’s jump capabilities. And now they had to find a way to get to Voris in time and without being discovered. His hopes were in the toilet, thinking about how little time they had before the combined Seken/Azlorean fleet launched for Earth … and with Zac aboard.
“We need to take the mothership to Voris,” Ashley said decisively.
Everyone looked at her in shock.
“The mothership?” Angus asked. “All the way to Voris? Can we do that?”
“Motherships are all over the place here,” she replied. “And at the speed they travel, we can get there in about the same time as we had been originally planning before the buzz ship showed up. And I’m telling you, no one is going to question a Seken mothership within the Federation. No one wants to risk a war with the assholes. Besides, their fleet is assembling at Voris. It would be natural for one to be steaming full speed for the rendezvous.”
“Can we remain in control all that time?” Cross asked. “We have almost two hundred prisoners on board. They’re going to try something sooner or later.”
“We give them food and water and promise to let them go at some point,” Monica suggested. “They’re biding their time. This will give them more while giving us time to repair the Dart. Then once we get to Voris, we take the repaired Dart down to the surface and save my father. The prisoners won’t know what we’re doing or where we’ve gone.”
“You can talk to them,” Angus said. “You think the captain will go for something like that?”
“I will make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
Angus grinned. “I didn’t know you knew of The Godfather. That’s some ancient history.”
Monica cocked her head and frowned. “The Godfather? What is that.”
Angus looked at Cross, who smiled broadly.
“It’s an ancient movie from the 20th century,” David answered. “Long before your time and from a planet far, far away.”
“Earth?”
“Yes, Earth,” Angus said impatiently. “Can we get back on topic? You’re saying seventeen days or so to get to Voris. Does anyone know if the mothership can make it that far without refueling?”
“I’ve checked the power controls,” Anton said. “The ship runs on cold fusion technology. It can run for years without refueling.”
As their default leader, all eyes were on Angus, waiting for a decision. They could cancel the rescue mission—leaving Zac to die—or they could take the mothership to Voris. What choice did he have?
“Let’s do it. Let’s go save Zac.”
A few minutes later, as Anton and Monica deciphered the navigation controls of the Seken warship, Angus opened a link to the fleet.
A skeptical-looking Captain Reynolds came on the screen. He nearly fainted when he saw Angus’s face.
“They say this is coming through a Seken commlink,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“We have control of one of the Seken motherships,” Angus reported.
Reynolds looked to one side and then the other, locking eyes with other officers who could see the screen, seeking confirmation that what he thought Angus had said he actually did. “Come again?”
“We managed to board the mothership and have taken control. The surviving Seken crew is locked away in a cargo hold. The situation is stable.”
Reynolds wasn’t a REV, but he’d operated with them long enough not to be surprised by anything they did. This was the exception.
“How the hell did you do that? There were only five you aboard the Dart. Any casualties … on your side?”
“Just the customary burned and torn uniforms, but nothing a REV can’t handle.” Angus grinned, rubbing it in a little. “How did the fleet come through the attack?”
Thankful for the change of subject, Captain Reynolds gave his report. “It was a bad one. Even so, it could have been worse. We wondered why the third ship never launched its fighters. But even without them, we lost sixteen 308s and three more capital ships. Angus, we can’t take much more of this. We only have twenty-two 308s left. The other two Seken ships headed off in the direction of the third—the one you’re on. They may be wondering why you didn’t join in the fight, too. I’d be on the lookout.”
“That’s good to know. We better be moving.”
“Where are you going? Are you bringing the ship here?”
“We barely know how to get the engines going. And if there are a pair of other Seken ships in the area, we shouldn’t lead them back to the fleet. The Dart was damaged in the boarding. It can be repaired, but we’ll have to do the repairs on the way.”
“On the way? To Voris?”
“That’s right, mate. The mission is still a go.”
“Holy crap. That’s a long way to fly an enemy ship without getting caught.”
“It will give us a good disguise until the Dart is repaired.”
Reynolds grinned and shook his head. “Well, I’m not ready to count the REVs out, not yet anyway. Apparently, nothing is off-limits to you guys. I’ve made contact with the relief ships; we’ll be meeting with them tomorrow. They have some new 308s with them, along with a few REV pilots. The rest will have to be piloted by Vees. Wish us luck. We still have a long way to go.” He laughed. “And so do you, my friend. Good luck, Angus. I hope you can get to Zac in time.”
“That makes two of us. Angus out.”
Chapter 16
Zac spent the next day wondering if what the native woman had told him was true. Was she really trying to help, or was this just another game being played by Kallen Zaphin and his Azlorean friends?
And then another female Azlorean came to his cell. This one was much harsher, showing her contempt for the Human unabashedly. She even insisted that two guards remain in the room with her as she examined the security collar. She removed it, worked on it at a separate table, then replaced it as soon as she could. Zac could tell that she didn’t want to spend any more time with the mass-murdering alien than possible.
The episode lent credence to what Darion had said, setting his plans in motion. Although he had trouble keeping track of time, he based the passage on the number of meals brought to him. Darion had said he would be moved in two days to a medical facility. When it was close to the time, he stripped down to his shorts and climbed into the bed, pretending to sleep. The Rev in his system kept him awake, although, to outside observers, he was sound asleep.
When the guards entered, he remained still on t
he bed, requiring a vigorous shaking before coming around. He stumbled out of bed and awkwardly tried to put on his clothes. He figured it was best that he appear groggy and uncoordinated rather than spry and alert when the time came.
As he was herded into the hallway, he ran into the opposite wall, his eyes squinting against the harsh light. He was sure the Azlorean guards had no idea as to the sleeping habits of Humans. Perhaps they hibernated when they sleep. They had no way of knowing. Even so, the ruse was working. The guards were more annoyed than cautious as they took up stations around him, leading him down the hallway and toward a rendezvous with a cadre of native doctors who would try to unlock the secrets of his REV abilities.
As he stumbled along, Zac remembered the words of the native. Go down, not up. He wasn’t sure what she meant; if he was already underground, he didn’t know it. Without her help, any direction was as good as another. The entourage passed several intersections, with arrows and signs written in a language he didn’t understand. Then he noticed an arrow that was tilted down at an angle. That was encouraging. He made a note of the location.
And then it happened. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, as the security collar vibrated a moment before it fell from his neck. There were two guards ahead of him and two behind. Before leaving his room, they placed shackles on his wrists with his hands out in front of him. As the collar began to fall, Zac acted as if he’d stumbled, bending over slightly as he caught the metal ring in his hand.
A guard behind him stepped up to steady him. Zac whirled around, holding the now open ring in his hands, catching the native across the side of the head. It only took one hit. Then he was on to the other guard, whose four eyes opened wide at the sight of the REV rushing for him. Zac was fully activated by now and moving with a speed and fluidity none of the guards expected. He laid his clamped fists into the shoulder of the second guard, slamming him into the wall. A second later, Zac was behind him, ripping the beam weapon from his holster and pointing it at the two forward guards. He let off a shot center mass into one of the guards while the other got off a shot. But Zac had the second guard as a shield, and the beam penetrated his abdomen before continuing through the body to scorch the side of Zac’s hip. These weapons were dangerous, not only to him but to anyone else around them. Their penetrating power was crazy.
Zac’s next shot eliminated the fourth guard. He let the now dead sentry in his arms slump to the floor. He ran forward to the body of the third guard and rifled through his pockets, looking for the keys to his shackles. He’d been careful to see who had them. Once free, Zac scooped up two extra handguns before setting off back down the hallway in the direction of the downward arrow.
At the intersection, he turned left and raced along for a few seconds before coming to a wide stairway leading down. Two natives were coming up the stairs, so Zac slowed to a respectable walk and headed down. The natives eyed him suspiciously until recognition came to one of them. Zac was sure nearly everyone on the planet had watched the arena show, and although they may not recognize him personally, they knew what a Human looked like.
Throwing caution to the wind, Zac climbed down the stairs, jumping several steps at a time. His REV coordination and reactions kept him from missing a step, and soon he was on a wide concrete platform running the length of a subway station. It had the familiar look and feel of a New York subway, but at the moment, only a few natives were meandering about. They took note of him, with nearly all lifting personal communication devices to their mouths.
Looking to his right, Zac saw that the overhead above the dark tunnel was painted blue. In the other direction, it was red. That was the way Darion told him to go.
Zac jumped off the platform and to the base of the tunnel. There was only one foot-wide track running down the center, a superconducting magnet, he reasoned. The Azloreans may be ugly sons of bitches, but they knew their technology. Avoiding the track, Zac ran off at REV speed into the dimly lit tunnel.
He was away from the platform in a matter of seconds, fortunate that the tunnel curved slightly so that he was no longer in the line of sight of any observers. Still, he knew an advanced society like the Azloreans would have cameras everywhere. He was sure he was under surveillance even now.
So, he kept running. Somewhere along here, he was to meet a contact who would help him get away. But where?
He continued to race along until he heard a faint voice yelling from behind. It didn’t sound like a pursuit, just a solitary voice. He stopped and used his REV hearing to listen. The voice was saying Human!
He turned around and ran back. The word Human could either be a warning or a signal. He had to find out which.
Light pierced the dimly lit tunnel, coming from a doorway in the sidewall. A figure was silhouetted, watching him as he approached.
“You passed too quickly for me to stop you!” said the native, a male this time. Zac hadn’t yet fully grasped the aging process for Azloreans; even still, this one appeared to be young, possibly late teens by Human standards. “Hurry! The pursuit is forming.”
Zac ducked through the doorway. He was in a maintenance room, littered with strange tools and greasy clothing. Although an advanced society, some Azloreans still had to get their hands dirty.
The young native led him through another door to a waiting electric cart. He took the single-person front seat and waved for Zac to climb in the back. Once set, the cart shot off down a narrow corridor, making several turns during its ten-minute long journey. At one point, the vehicle entered a gigantic freight elevator and the doors closed. The cab began to move upward.
At the top, Zac found himself in a large receiving area full of wooden and plastic crates. Lifting devices sat idle with no operators at the moment. Was that planned?
A warehouse door was sliding open on silent wheels as two figures stood in the light that filtered in from outside. As the door opened fully and the cart came closer, Zac recognized one of the people as Darion Crolous. She was waving her hand for them to hurry.
“Security has been shut down in this section, but it will only last for a while longer,” she said, throwing a dark blanket over Zac as he reached her. “Into the back,” she directed, pointing to a square transport vehicle that was common on the streets Zac had seen near the arena. “My friends will take you to a safe location.”
“You’re not coming?”
“I am not. An investigation will begin immediately into the failure of the collar. I must be there to place the evidence. I will meet with you in a few days. The others know what to do.”
A moment later, the door shut, and the truck rushed away from the warehouse.
There was tension in the air, but no one spoke for quite a while. Zac lifted his head above the blanket and watched the native’s reactions. An older male was at the wheel, with the younger native next to him. Both looked nervous.
“We must transfer to another vehicle before we leave the city,” the driver said. “All vehicles in the vicinity of the transport tube will be tracked and surveyed.”
They turned off the road and into an underground parking structure before stopping where another native stood watching them nervously. They all left the truck, and that was when Zac noticed that everyone was wearing gloves, everyone except him. It made sense. Azloreans surely had ways of tracing fingerprints and DNA.
The four native and their charge then crowded into a smaller vehicle, yet one that still had a small cargo section in the back. Since Azloreans are bigger than Humans, everything was made to their scale, so Zac fit nicely in the cubby hole.
What followed was an hour’s long journey, during which Zac was advised to stay down since traffic cameras could pick up his facial features through the windows. He obliged, settling down for a less frantic ride to his ultimate hiding place, wherever that was to be.
The security building was awash with panicking and frantic workers, many of whom knew nothing of what was happening but felt obliged to panic just the same.
Darion was
in her office at the time the first call came through. Her team was called to a security corridor to recover evidence deposited there by the escapee. She retrieved the discarded collar and took it to the tech lab for examination. It only took ten seconds for her to replace the current locking mechanism with another she carried in her pocket.
Forty minutes later, she was back in her office, waiting for the next part of her plan to begin.
An irritated group of uniformed soldiers entered, with a Juris-Four demanding she come to the interrogation room. She went with them without question.
“You have recovered the prisoner’s security collar,” the Juris stated. “What are your conclusions?”
“Conclusions; I have none. I placed the collar in a security hold in the laboratory for future examination. Was there a priority request I was not aware of?”
“There is now. Video evidence shows the collar fell from the neck of the Human. How do you explain that?”
“I cannot,” Darion stated, concern thick in her voice. “We detected an error in the locking mechanism a few days ago. I personally inspected the unit and found that it was faulty, if only sporadically. But it was not enough that would cause complete failure. Even so, I ordered an immediate replacement module be installed.”
“Was that done?” the officer demanded.
“I will check.” Darion took her datapad and began scrolling through files. “Yes, the operation was completed yesterday at 4301.”
“Who was the tech?”
“Sornum De’lason.”
“Who is she?”
“She is the repair supervisor, a Level Seven, just as I am.”
“Where is she?”
“I do not know. She runs her department, and I run mine.”
The Juris nodded to his subordinates, and they left the room in a hurry. Darion fought hard to keep from smiling. Her plan was working.
“Where is the collar now?”