by Tripp Ellis
Sergeant Cole's face looked grim as he put the pieces together.
Aarnok seemed to enjoy watching him come to the realization he had been betrayed. “Yes, we have spies within your UIA. We know your every move before you make it."
“That can't be,” Cole muttered to himself. He had a look of utter disbelief on his face. He was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that Felicia had betrayed him.
"If you know so much, why did you lose on Crylos 9?" Zack asked with a defiant tone.
Aarnok scowled at him. "Unforeseen events. Don't confuse luck with skill. What is the saying you have…? Even a broken clock is right twice a day?" He flashed a smug grin.
Zack glared back at the pompous alien.
"Take all of them to the prison camp on Ka’avsur. Except for this one," Aarnok said, pointing at Zack. "Take him to my ship. He will be brought before the Emperor, and will face punishment for the death of my brother."
34
Zack
Aarnok's royal guards marched Zack across the tarmac toward a cruiser. Zack could see the others as they were escorted to another transport ship. He wondered if it was the last time he would see Diesel and Sergeant Cole. Zack lost sight of them as he was forced up the ramp, into the cruiser.
It was more like a luxury space liner than a warship, though it had state-of-the-art armor plating, and a full complement of weapons. It was a one-of-a-kind vehicle designed to Aarnok's specifications. It was sleek and elegant. It had every amenity imaginable. A pool, a fitness area, a holodeck, a recreation room, a movie theater, and there was even a small bar. There were guest accommodations for 50 of Aarnok's closest friends. Though, he only had one guest aboard at the moment.
The craft was pure opulence. Stepping aboard the ship was like entering a luxury resort. Even mundane details on bulkheads were elegantly adorned with precious metals and gems. It must have cost a fortune. But when you are the Emperor's son, money is no object.
The guards pushed Zack through a maze of corridors. At the end of one of the passageways, he caught a glance of Honor. He was stunned for a moment. The sight of her almost didn't register. How did she get here? What was she doing here? She was surrounded by royal guards.
His brain finally processed the information, and he was able to speak. He emptied his lungs as he screamed her name. His voice echoed off the bulkheads.
Her gaze snapped in his direction, and she screamed, "Zack!”
Honor’s terrified gaze was the last thing Zack saw or heard, besides the crack of the weapon against the back of his head. One of the guards had smacked him with the stock of his rifle. Pain shot through Zack's skull, and his body crashed to the ground, unconscious.
Zack woke up in a holding cell sometime later. He wasn't sure how long he had been out. He peeled his groggy eyes open and tried to focus on his surroundings. The grated pattern in the floor had left an indention across his cheek. He had almost forgotten where he was, or what he'd been doing. But it all came rushing back an instant later. His face tensed and flushed with rage.
Zack took a moment to survey his new accommodations. It was a rectangular cell 10 feet long and 5 feet wide. There was a foldout rack affixed to the bulkhead. There was a sink and a toilet, and that was the extent of the amenities. Despite its Spartan appearance, everything was crafted from the finest materials.
Zack spun around to face the hatch and peered through the viewport. He planted several swift kicks into the metal, but it wasn't going anywhere. He was just kicking it to vent his frustration.
He turned around and rested his back against the hatch and slid down into a seated position. Zack had never been in any type of holding cell before, but he figured this was one of the nicer ones in the galaxy.
He had been stripped of his weapons, armor, and gear. He was left with only his fatigues and boots. He sat there, slumped against the hatch, trying to process everything that had happened. He had really botched this rescue operation up, he thought. But at least he knew where Honor was. She was alive, and that gave him a small degree of comfort.
He pushed himself off the deck and examined the holding cell for weaknesses, looking for a way out. But the only way out was through the main hatch.
"How are your accommodations?" Aarnok muttered through the hatch with devilish delight. "I trust everything meets with your approval?"
Zack spun around to see his hideous face peering through the polycarbonate viewport in the hatch. "You can do whatever you want to me, but let Honor go!”
"Why would I let such an adorable creature go?"
Zack clenched his jaw, and the veins in his neck bulged. "I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will kill you like I did your brother."
The grin on Aarnok's face faded. "I have no intention of harming her. In fact, I'm quite fond of her. I have decided to make her one of my brides."
Zack's heart sank. His stomach twisted. It was a sickening thought. Zack charged the hatch and kicked it again. The sound clamored off the bulkheads and made Aarnok flinch.
The alien took a step back and regained his composure. He smiled as if nothing happened. "Try to enjoy your last moments. I'm sure my father will dispose of you in a most painful manner. And I will enjoy every moment of it."
35
Flur
An alarm beeped, and an orange light flickered on the control console. Flur exchanged a concerned glance with Gerbov.
Flur was a reptilian frog-like creature with slick green skin that faded into patches of blue. He had orange offset eyes, and his long slender fingers were orange as well. The Valasion anatomy wasn't all that different from a human’s, except that they had three fingers. They were, in general, a little shorter than human males. Svelte, nimble creatures.
Flur ran a system diagnostic to confirm the fault. Quite often in these situations it was just a sensor malfunction. A simple diagnostic and re-check would eliminate the problem.
Not this time.
The orange light on the control terminal kept flashing.
Flur cringed. He knew any delay was going to upset the Prince. Traveling in slide-space, they were several hours away from Balasbar station. Flur felt like it was too risky to chance continuing without a repair. He re-calculated an exit point, and brought the ship out of quantum space.
The bulkheads bulged and distorted. Flur felt an uncomfortable quantum wave wash through his body.
The ship emerged in the middle of nowhere. The dim light of distant stars flickered on the horizon. Flur did a quick scan of the area to make sure there were no enemy ships in range. Although not technically at war with the Federation, the Valasions were allied with the Tarvaax, and that could spell trouble if they encountered UPDF forces.
When Flur was satisfied the sector was clear, he unlatched his safety harness and stood up from the pilot’s seat. "Keep an eye on things while I check this out," he told Gerbov.
His copilot looked a little skittish. He didn't want to be the one to explain to Prince Iloba about the delay. But before Flur could make it out of the cockpit the Prince was standing in the hatch. He had a perturbed scowl on his face "Why has our journey been interrupted?"
Flur swallowed hard. "It looks like a malfunction with the Xerco frequency modulator."
"And this couldn't wait until we reached port?"
"I thought it best to address the situation now. These things have been known to result in a catastrophic failure."
"First, you should stop thinking. It seems like something you are incapable of."
Flur tried to hide a scowl.
"If you hadn't noticed, I am on a deadline,” Iloba said. “I have duties to perform. Obligations to fulfill. Not to mention the fact that we are without a fighter escort. Did you even give any consideration to what sector we are in?”
"I ran a scan –"
"I don't care about your scan. It is believed the Federation could have cloaking technology.”
“I will resume our journey, and we can make repairs when we reach Balasba
r Station.”
The Prince sighed. "You've already interrupted our journey. Might as well fix the problem now."
"Yes, my Lord."
Flur made his way to the engineering department. He rummaged through several bins until he found a spare modulator. But this wasn't something he could repair from inside the ship. He was going to have to do an EVA walk.
Flur hated leaving the ship. All kinds of things could go wrong once you were outside of the protective confines of the hull. Cosmic radiation, space debris, or a mag boot failure could make things go south real quick.
In the airlock, there were several spacesuits hanging on the bulkhead. Flur took one down and suited up. He latched the helmet on and powered the suit up. The heads-up-display gave him a full diagnostic reading of the suit’s life-support system. The battery pack was fully charged, and there was enough oxygen for several days.
The suit was sleek and minimalist in design. It wasn't bulky or restrictive like most other suits. Nothing but the best for Prince Iloba. There were small navigational thrusters in the palm and boots, as well as on the main power pack. There were several pouches on the front of the suit that contained tools, and each one was tethered to the suit. There was nothing worse than being on the outside of the hull trying to fix a broken modulator and having a wrench drift off into the void of space.
Flur put the spare modulator in one of the empty pouches, then closed the inner airlock hatch. He depressurized the chamber and activated his mag boots. His feet stuck to the floor. It was like walking with heavy ankle weights on, and if you weren't used to it, your hip flexors would be sore as hell the next day.
Flur opened the outer airlock hatch and moved to the edge. He peered out over the star field and took a deep breath. He attached a tether to his belt, then deactivated his mag boots and drifted out into space. He used his thrusters to adjust his trajectory. He angled toward the top of the ship and glided a few feet above the hull, constantly adjusting his vector with the thrusters.
When he neared the access panel atop the ship, he swung his body into a vertical position and activated the mag boots. He used his palm thrusters to push him toward the roof-deck. As his feet drew near, they snapped into place against the hull. From there he walked to the maintenance hatch.
Flur slid the cover open, revealing a row of modulators. He pulled a specialized wrench from the pouch on his chest and began to release the seat that held the modulator.
His clothes were thermally coated, but even still, he could feel the heat through his glove, radiating from the damaged unit.
The process wasn't all that complicated. It seemed like it was going to be a straightforward repair. It should have taken a few minutes to remove the modulator and replace it. Flur was going to be in and out in no time, but then a small meteoroid slammed into the hull less than a foot away.
The thing couldn't have been larger than a golf ball, but it sounded as if a cannon had gone off. He felt the shockwave ripple through the hull, vibrating the soles of his feet.
Flur flinched and accidentally let go of the frequency modulator. It tumbled away toward the inky blackness. Flur swiped at it, but missed. He deactivated his mag boots and lunged for as it spiraled away. He grabbed for it again, but just barely nicked it with the tip of his glove. It sent the modulator spinning in another direction.
Flur used his thrusters to re-adjust his trajectory. The device was no more than 6 inches long. It was getting away from him, and soon it would vanish into oblivion. He angled around and glided toward it. He was catching up to it, but the modulator was nearing the edge of the ship. Soon it would be gone forever. Just as he got within reach, the tether attached to his belt jerked him to a halt. Flur had literally reached the end of his rope. He swung his hand out, trying to make a last desperate grasp for the modulator. His fingertips raked the device, and he somehow managed to snag it between his fingertips. But he barely had a grasp on it, and he gingerly pulled it close to his body and clinched it with his other fist.
Flur breathed a sigh of relief. Prince Iloba would have been furious with him if he had lost the modulator. They would have been stuck in the middle of nowhere until a rescue vehicle arrived. Most likely, Flur would have been punished by public decapitation. Prince Iloba did not suffer failure lightly.
Another meteoroid impacted the hull. Then another.
Gerbov crackled over the comm line. "What's going on out there?"
"Small meteoroids. Nothing to worry about. I'm almost finished."
“Iloba is getting pissed off about the damage to his ship."
"I'm worried about damage to me. You try getting hit with space rocks traveling at 10,000 miles an hour."
Flur navigated his way back to the access panel. The number of meteoroids hitting the ship had increased. It was almost like being in the middle of a hailstorm. They were impacting all around him.
He tried to keep his hands steady as he inserted the modulator into the slot, but he couldn't help but tremble a little. It was like standing downrange during target practice. Even a microscopic fragment of rock could puncture his suit and tear through his flesh.
Flur finally secured the modulator, then sealed the maintenance hatch. He deactivated his mag boots and leapt into space. He used the tether to pull himself back toward the airlock. Fist over fist, he yanked his way down the line. With any luck he'd make it back to the ship without getting peppered by space rocks.
36
Zack
A guard strolled by Zack's cell and peered in through the viewport to check on him. His face twisted up, perplexed. The cell was empty. But that was impossible.
The guard pressed his face against the polycarbonate glass and tried to get an angle on the near corners of the compartment.
There was no sign of Zack.
The guard readied his weapon and pressed a button on the bulkhead. The hatch slid open, and the guard marched into the compartment with his weapon in the firing position. He scanned from corner to corner, but the compartment was empty. By the time he glanced up, it was too late.
Zack had suspended himself above the hatch, pressing his hands against one bulkhead and his feet against the other. It was just narrow enough for him to support himself.
Zack dropped down onto the alien’s back and slung his arm around the creatures neck. He had the alien in a chokehold. The thing clawed at him, but Zack maintained a vice like grip. With a violent twist, he snapped the guard’s neck, and the oafish creature flopped to the deck.
Zack pulled his carcass aside and grabbed the alien’s weapon. He rummaged through the guard’s tactical vest, pilfering a few thermal grenades, a tactical knife, and a few mags of ammunition. He wedged the knife in between his belt and pants, and stuffed the magazines and grenades in his cargo pockets. Then he poked his head through the hatch and surveyed the hallway. It was empty.
Zack stepped into the corridor and closed the hatch behind him. He snuck down the hallway and threw his back against the bulkhead, hiding behind a pilaster as two guards crossed at the next junction. They continued on without noticing him.
Zack made his way to the junction, then peered around the corner. He saw the guards turn on another passageway. He had no idea where they were keeping Honor, but she probably wasn't far from Aarnok's quarters. Most likely on one of the upper decks.
Zack was pretty sure that the writing on the bulkhead indicated that this was a lower deck. You wouldn't keep prisoners on the same level as esteemed guests. He could read a little bit of the Tarvaax language.
He made his way toward the engineering department. The first thing he needed to do was buy himself a little time before reaching the Emperor's palace. He had no idea what sector the Tarvaax home world was located in, or how long it would take to get there.
The dull drone of the engines rumbled through the ship. The sound of the engines grew louder as he moved farther aft.
Compared to a destroyer or super carrier, the ship was tiny. Aarnok had maybe a dozen guards. The
re were probably a handful of flight crew. A small number of servants, cooks, custodians, etc. Probably a few engineers, some machinist mates, a number of deckhands, and a few reactor technicians. Zack was definitely outnumbered, but at least he wasn't up against a crew of 2000.
Zack could hear a few guards approaching behind him. Their boots clinked against the deck. Zack pressed a button on the bulkhead and dashed into a nearby compartment. He closed the hatch behind him and waited for the guards to pass by. Once they were gone, Zack pushed back into the hallway and proceeded aft. He snaked through the corridors and finally reached the engineering compartment. He peered through the viewport and saw two engineers at control terminals. The quantum field generator was in the next compartment. If he could destroy that, the ship wasn't going to reach its destination anytime soon.
Zack opened the hatch and pushed into the compartment. He moved with tactical precision and fired two shots. Plasma bolts rifled through the air, piercing through both engineers. Their bodies flopped to the deck. One of them was dead instantly. The other was groaning and wallowing on the deck in a pool of his own blood. Zack rushed to him and knelt down beside him. He jammed the barrel of his weapon under the alien’s chin. "Where is she?"
He gurgled out something indecipherable.
"The human girl. Where is she?"
The creature muttered something in its native language.
"Don't give me that bullshit. I know you slugs learn basic Federation-speak. If you don't tell me where she is, I'm going to incinerate that ugly head of yours."
The alien said nothing.
Zack's finger gripped tight around the trigger, ready to blast the alien’s head off. "I'm going to ask you one last time?"