Molon moved to his locker and donned the boarding vac-suit he had commandeered on his last trip to Ratuen. He’d had Monkey replace the Dawnstar service patch with the ugly golden sunburst. It looked as official as when Molon had pulled it off the slain Dawnstar sergeant during his trip to rescue John.
Suited up, he walked around the corner of the row of lockers expecting to find John also dressed and ready. Instead, the doctor was standing still, staring pensively into McGintis’s open locker.
“You all right, John?” Molon asked, wondering if the doctor was having second thoughts about the away mission. John started at the sound of Molon’s voice, as if the doctor were coming out of a daydream.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” John said slowly, not sounding completely convinced himself. “I was just thinking about the crewmen, like McGintis, who have already given everything on this mission. I never even met this man, yet he died because of me. Was I right to bring you all here? I mean if I hadn’t hired you all, they’d still be alive.”
“John,” Molon said, placing a hand on the human’s shoulder. “Death is a risk of the mercenary life. Every merc knows that. If it wasn’t this mission, it would have been another. It is not your fault. It’s a fact of life.”
“I know that, on some level at least,” John said, his eyes still slightly glassy. “There is something that puzzles me, though.”
“What is it, John?”
“Dub told me that dying is the only way anyone has ever left Star Wolf. He told me that since you’ve been captain, not one person has gone looking for a better billet elsewhere. With all the changing lives aboard, it must be impossible to keep up with all the names.”
Molon’s heart slowed in his chest as he tightened his grip on John’s shoulder. A flood of faces of those who had served with him threatened to overwhelm him. How many times had he ordered replacement locker nameplates? How often had he gathered personal effects, pulled names and patches off of uniforms, written those letters? But as he had just told John, it was a fact of life and part of being captain.
“I remember the names,” Molon murmured in a far-away voice, as if only part of him were still standing there in the armory. “I remember every sophont who has served under me on Star Wolf. I wrote every condolence letter that accompanied a box of personal effects. I issued every final pay voucher bound for friends and family of those lost in the line of duty. Most times, aboard a merc ship, living or dying isn’t a choice we get to make. Forgetting is. I choose to remember.”
Thankfully John left it at that and began to put on McGintis’ tight-fitting body armor. While it didn’t cover every part of the body like a combat suit or Molon’s boarding vac-suit, when combined with a tactical helmet it covered most of the vital areas.
“That fits snugly enough to go under a standard vac-suit if we need to vent atmo from the STS for any reason, and it should be light and mobile enough to let you move fast if it comes to that while keeping out most unwanted bullet or blaster holes.”
“Most?” John said, grabbing the tac helmet from the locker and closing the door. “That’s comforting.”
“Ain’t it though?” Molon laughed as he turned and led the way to the cargo bay.
Voide was already standing outside the STS with the bandolier containing her compressable bow and a hip quiver full of arrows in hand.
“I was wondering if you two stopped to take a nap before suiting up. Here,” she said, tossing the bandolier to John. “Don’t mess with the settings, and if you lose it I’ll kill you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he answered, slinging the bandolier around his shoulders and taking the quiver of arrows from her. He affixed it expertly to his belt. “I bow hunt for sport, remember. I’m not going to break your toy.”
“Shooting at dinner and shooting at sophonts are two very different things,” Voide replied. “Dinner doesn’t shoot back.”
Molon noticed Voide’s sword was slung over one shoulder and a long dagger was sheathed on one hip with a heavy blaster strapped to the other. She was wearing the same stealth suit she had on when she had accompanied John to his house on Tede. Over her other shoulder was slung a short-muzzled grenade launcher to accompany the bandolier of assorted grenades that crossed her torso, shoulder to hip.
“Have you already forgotten the part of the plan where I talked about quick and quiet?” Molon asked.
“I can do quiet,” Voide smirked, tapping the hilt of her sword. “I’m also ready if things get loud.”
Molon shook his head and boarded the STS. Having an untrained civilian like John along was unnerving. Civvies were unpredictable at best. Voide being on mission didn’t exactly raise the predictability, but it certainly calmed his nerves. Her skills paid for her chaos and then some.
“Let’s aim for quiet,” Molon said, to Voide before taking the pilot’s seat.
“Spoilsport,” she snorted, and strapped herself in.
*****
Molon was grateful that the short STS flight to the surface was uneventful. Dub had remotely hacked the satellite array and given Molon the satellite scan pattern to avoid. There was a narrow window that could get them half a kilometer from the detention facility’s perimeter fence. Given that the compound was the only thing worth watching on this desolate planet, it was as close as they would get.
As Molon piloted the STS down toward the surface, he squeezed the craft in between two sharply jutting mounds of rock. The extremely low gravity here meant the terrain was very uneven, and formations like yellowish-brown stalagmites jutted skyward like a field of stony grass. The small, relatively flat place where he had landed last time—when he had sought a sentry whose uniform he could steal before flying to the prison’s docking bay—now hosted his STS for a second time. The high mounds would conceal the STS from being spotted from the surface, and this expanse of nothing between the prison complex and the canyon was not part of the satellite’s coverage pattern. The rough landscape would give them ample cover, at least to the edge of the prison complex, where the surface had been razed smooth for several hundred yards around the prison proper.
As they exited to the surface, leaving the artificially generated gravity in the STS, their steps were floaty, with their higher-gravity accustomed muscles propelling them in great leaps. John adjusted quickly, but it took Voide and Molon several minutes longer. Suppressing their muscle-memory of how to walk in normal gravity, and shifting instead to the light touch and rolling glide required when navigating low-G, took some getting used to.
“Looks like I’m the expert for a change,” John teased his cumbersome companions as Molon and Voide flailed about on their first few steps, trying to adjust to the gravity.
“I would think even you would take a bit of adjusting to this large a difference. I haven’t felt gravity this light since we took a job on an asteroid mining colony.”
“As I told you,” John reminded him, “the Tede homeworld is the heaviest-G inhabited body in the Tede system. I may not be a spacer, but I get around quite a bit within my own system. I even had a high-G workout room in our home, which is why I was not tottering around in the heavier gravity aboard Star Wolf like Brother Zebedee was on Hornet’s Nest.”
“Feels like we could just jump to the prison in a bound or two,” Voide interjected. “How in the world am I supposed to fight like this? I can barely walk without launching into orbit.”
“You’ll get used to it,” John replied. “Just forget about stepping and glide. Walk more like you are dragging your feet and shuffling instead of trying to push against resistance. As for fighting, though, I don’t know. That’s outside my expertise.”
“Once we reach the complex,” Molon added, “it won’t be an issue. The prison has artificial gravity generators that push around one-G.”
“That’s a relief,” Voide replied. “At least we can breathe, even if just barely.”
Molon understood what she meant. Few worlds had a breathable atmosphere at all, especially ones with gravity this low. R
atuen’s atmosphere was thin, but it was enough to keep them from needing fully-sealed vac suits. The pull from the twin suns, two dwarf main sequence stars, one orange and the other red, had apparently worked together to keep Ratuen’s mainworld from becoming tidal locked. Perhaps this rotation had kept the wispy atmosphere intact.
Molon hoped they wouldn’t find themselves fighting outside the prison complex. The combined unfamiliar variables of ultra-low gravity and very thin atmosphere would put them at a severe disadvantage against anyone who had grown accustomed to life on Ratuen. By contrast, life support systems inside the complex would give them a much more familiar environment in which to carry out their mission.
Voide called for a halt just before they cleared the huge stone column on the prison side of the clearing which housed their STS. She strapped large black bracelets with small digital readouts and three control buttons onto each of their wrists. Molon recognized them as security scramblers.
“What are these for?” John asked, fumbling with the device.
“They will mask our image on video and conceal our heat signatures from the satellite and electronic surveillance,” she explained. “They won’t stop a live guard from spotting us, though, so be careful.”
John continued toying with the device and poised a finger over one of the control buttons.
“Don’t mess with it,” Voide snapped. “It is already set.”
“I was just curious.”
“Curiosity gets stupid pales killed.”
“I don’t think that is how the old adage goes,” John said, flashing Voide an annoyed scowl.
“What adage?” she replied, unable to hold back the slightest hint of a grin.
“Enough, you two,” Molon snapped. “Save it for downtime. We have a lot of terrain to cross and the chronometer is running. The longer Star Wolf sits in orbit, the greater the chance she gets spotted.”
They moved slowly and deliberately toward the prison complex. In between the towering landscape spires, they occasionally caught sight of a single, larger mound that was resting on a relatively flat plateau. Atop the mound was a large communications array aimed skyward toward the orbiting satellite behind which Star Wolf currently hovered. Keeping as low as possible while adjusting their airy steps to the terrain, they took advantage of the dry shrub-like trees and rocky spires littering the surface. The abundant cover was challenging to navigate, especially given Molon and Voide’s relative unfamiliarity with maneuvering in ultra-low-G, but rounding a large stony outcropping they spotted a wire fence where cover ended and a flat plain began. As they approached this perimeter fence, Voide pulled out her security scanner and waved it over the surface of one section.
“The fence isn’t electrified and doesn’t appear to have any current through it for continuity alarms. Should be safe to cut, captain.”
Molon nodded and Voide pulled a small laser cutter from a zippered pouch on her suit. She made quick work of the fence, which was nothing more than a typical chain link constructed out of high-end material. Doubtless it would have proven impervious to typical low-tech metal cutters, but the laser glided through it easily. Soon a hole large enough to permit even Molon’s bulk stood before them.
“The first patrol that spots this hole will sound the alarm,” John commented.
“It’s a chance we have to take,” Molon answered. “Besides, people don’t generally break into prison.”
“Yeah, but you already blew it up once,” Voide added. “Anybody with half a brain would upgrade security after that.”
“Maybe even Dawnstar has equipment supply woes just like the rest of the galaxy,” Molon answered. “I can’t see some ratty, backwater prison complex as very high on their upgrade list. We may not have to fight our way out of this after all.”
“Lucky us,” Voide said, looking more than mildly disappointed.
The prison facility on Ratuen had been dug into a large, rocky hill sitting alone on an otherwise cleared plain. Defensively, it was ideal. There were only a few paths of approach, with easy visibility all around, if anyone cared to look. Molon hadn’t spotted any thermal signatures outside the complex from the STS sensors, but that didn’t mean there weren’t windows or observation posts inside the hill. But there were no alarms or apparent activity yet, so it was doubtful they had been spotted.
Molon remembered from his previous visit that there was a single blind angle near the northwest corner. A sheer rock face limited approach directly from the northwest, but that had allowed him to get close enough last time to take out a patrol guard and steal his uniform. He had then been able to return to his STS and fly in like he belonged there. Unfortunately, this time they would be forced to go in on foot.
With Voide’s bracelets protecting them from cameras and IR scanners, he was willing to gamble on not running into a live guard while crossing from the perimeter to the entrance on the west side. As they approached the path, however, Molon’s spirits fell.
There had been a door on the west side, just north of the hangar bay, that led to the courtyard outside via a short, straight path. From this distance it looked like blast damage from the surprise he had left behind had at least partially melted the large metal door on that guard entrance.
“I’m betting that door doesn’t work anymore,” Molon grumbled. “We may have to chance the short climb to the hangar bay. As bad as that explosive wrecked the place, it will either be abandoned or it will be awash with people working on repairs.”
“Um,” John said, frowning. “Isn’t being awash with people kind of the opposite of what we are wanting? What happened to quick and quiet?”
“Crowds and chaos are good for stealth,” Voide answered before Molon could. “Repair crews, especially coming from elsewhere, mean nobody knows anyone.”
“Yeah,” Molon added. “When most everyone are strangers, new faces don’t stand out.”
“I’m thinking your faces are going to stand out,” John said, nodding toward Molon and Voide.
“Nah,” Voide said, turning on her disguise module on her stealth suit. Her gray skin faded to the human tone he had seen her use back on Tede. “Molon said Dawnstar used Lubanian security on this rock, and he already has one of their custom-made security vac-suits.”
She popped on a pair of shaded lenses that shielded her yellow eyes from view. “See, now I’m a worthless pale, just like you.”
“Okay, whatever” John said, ignoring her taunt and running his fingers through his hair before donning his tac-helmet. “Let’s go.”
The partly melted door entrance was a level below the hangar entry. Molon’s acute hearing didn’t pick up any noise of construction or commotion coming from the hangar bay. He tried the door but as he had suspected the melted metal had fused to the frame and made the entry impassible.
The climb to the hangar entrance was only about ten meters, and there were ample handholds and footholds. It was close enough to the complex’s gravity generators, however, that they were approaching a standard one-G. In Ratuen’s natural gravity, they could simply have jumped to the hangar entrance, but thanks to the generators, they would be forced to climb.
“You up to this, John?” Molon asked.
“Oh, yeah,” John replied, “the climbing wall at my gym is a tougher climb than this, and I usually set the wall at point eight Gs. Null sweat.”
“Do people in your gym shoot at you while you are climbing?” Voide quipped.
“It depends on whether or not I am paid up on my membership fees,” John retorted, before turning and starting up the wall.
“Slow down there, Doc,” Molon said, grabbing ahold of John’s bandolier. “Might want to let Voide scout it first.”
Voide harrumphed in John’s direction before turning on her stealth mode and fading to little more than a transparent silhouette. She went up the wall and rolled into the lip of the hangar cave entrance quickly and silently.
“She must be part spider,” John remarked.
“Among other t
hings,” Molon answered.
Voide’s no-longer-transparent but still human-looking head poked over the edge of the hangar a few moments later. She called down to them in a loud whisper.
“All clear.”
Molon and John followed Voide’s path up the rock face easily enough. As they too rolled into the hangar, Molon gazed around to assess the carnage he had left behind on his last visit. The hangar was badly damaged from the bomb and currently abandoned. He quickly spotted why. The heavy metal hangar door leading to the rest of the complex was little more than a sheet of cooled slag set into the cave wall.
“Guess we have to find another way in,” John said, his voice breaking slightly.
“We will, John,” Molon said, patting the human on the shoulder. “Getting this far without being spotted was better than I had hoped for. Welcome to the mercenary life. Nothing is ever easy.”
“It may be easier than you think,” Voide added, having once again pulled out her scanner and wandered over toward the melted door. “Looks like no life-form readings anywhere nearby on the other side of this slagged door. My laser cutter may be enough to get us in.”
“This is a heavy reinforced door,” Molon said, furrowing his brow. “It will take hours to cut through that with a small laser cutter.”
“You got somewhere else to be?” Voide snapped. “Besides, half this door is in that cooled slag plate on the floor there.”
Molon noted where she was pointing. Indeed, it looked as if a puddle of the melted metal had spread out before the door. Its dull and charred surface did not rise more than a few centimeters above the hangar floor, but the flooring in the hangar was more rough-cut stone than any smooth flooring, so any number of pocks and crevasses might belie the true amount of melted metal below the plate.
“There is a good-sized thin spot where the old locking mechanism used to be,” Voide continued. “I can cut a hole big enough for me to get in easily enough, and the pale if he wants to go. It’d be too tight for you, Molon, unless you shaved your fur and greased up really good.”
Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy) Page 32