by Tripp Ellis
Ray swung the barrel of his weapon around the corner, taking aim at D-Beck. He cleared his throat to get their attention.
Dietrich rolled his eyes. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“Newsflash. Your ship belongs to me now.”
The navigator made a move for his sidearm, but Ray dissuaded him of the notion. “Don’t even think about it.”
The navigator backed off and raised his hands in the air.
“Let’s see the shard,” Ray demanded.
Dietrich pulled it from his pocket.
“Set it on the ground and kick it over to me,” Ray commanded.
Dietrich smiled. “No.”
“You must like the idea of getting shot.”
“Not particularly. But I’m not really the one who has to worry about that.”
As he said the words, Ray could feel the cold steel of a plasma rifle press against the back of his head. One of the goons had crept up behind him.
30
“Ray, you should know by now, you can’t win against me,” Dietrich boasted.
Ray dropped his weapon. It clattered against the deck.
“I suppose I have you to thank for the malfunctioning quantum drive?" Dietrich asked.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that."
“He removed the power couplers,” Nard said, staggering down the hallway. He was rubbing the back of his head where Ray had cracked him. His hand came away from his scalp tinged with blood.
“Search him, then lock him up,” Dietrich said.
The goons dragged Ray away. Nard clocked him in the jaw as he passed by. Turnabout was fair play, Ray thought.
The goons took the power couplers and locked Ray in the compartment where Ava had been held. Discovering that she was missing, the goons began to search the Osprey.
Within several minutes, the bulkheads rippled, and Ray could feel the ship jump to slide-space. It wasn't long after that when the hatch slid open, and a goon shoved Ava into the compartment.
Ava shrugged. “Sorry.”
"What are you sorry about?"
“I didn't do a very good job of hiding.”
Ray chuckled. "It's okay, this wasn't exactly a successful rescue operation."
“It's not over yet," she said optimistically.
Ray surveyed the compartment, looking for a way out. The air vent was too small to crawl through. There was an access panel next to the hatch, but without a screwdriver there was no way to pry off the panel and get to the wiring.
Ray sat down and leaned against the bulkhead. There was no obvious way out of the cell.
THE OSPREY EMERGED from slide-space in the Geminoria sector. Maldovan’s Wolverine was waiting. The destroyer dwarfed the tiny Osprey, and its defensive targeting systems automatically locked onto the approaching craft. A small squadron of fighters launched from the flight deck and approached the Osprey in a combat spread. It was impossible to get close to a Realm destroyer without proper authentication.
A voice crackled over the comm system. “Osprey, this is the ISS Excelsior. Please identify."
Dietrich nervously responded. Even if you were a guest of the Realm, approaching a destroyer was always a nerve-racking proposition. "Dietrich Beck. I’m here at the request of Lord Maldovan.”
There was a long pause. The squadron surrounded the ship, but they didn't fire.
A moment later, the voice crackled back over the radio. "You are cleared to land. The fighters will escort you to flight deck A.”
“Thank you.”
The pilot angled the Osprey toward the flight deck and made his approach. There was a fine art to managing the transition between Zero G and the artificial gravity of the flight deck. It was easy to misjudge the conversion point and wind up smacking the edge of the flight deck—a common occurrence among rookie pilots. But Dietrich's crew knew what they were doing. He only hired the best.
The pilot pressed a button on the console and lowered the landing gear. The hydraulics whirred, and the gear locked into place. The Osprey floated into the massive bay and touched down like a feather floating to the ground. The shocks compressed under the massive weight of the Osprey. The ship was quickly surrounded by a platoon of Imperial Soturi.
Aboard the Osprey, Vlaax and Nard rousted Ray and Ava from their cell and marched them to the flight deck.
Dietrich was greeted by Commander Vasko. He wore the standard black service uniform of the upper echelon officers in the Imperial Navy. There was a row of service ribbons and medals on his chest. He was square jawed, with a high and tight haircut, knee high boots, and gunmetal-grey eyes.
“Permission to come aboard, sir?” Dietrich said.
“Permission granted. I trust you have the item?”
“Yes,” Dietrich said.
“Excellent. I will bring you to Lord Maldovan at once. Turn your prisoners over to my men.”
“Of course,” Dietrich stammered.
“My Soturi will escort your men to the lounge where they can relax while we conduct our business.” The commander spun around and marched away. Dietrich struggled to keep up with him. “What do you plan to do with the girl? She is an Oracle, and will fetch a nice price on the market."
“The compensation you receive will be more than sufficient. Lord Maldovan wants the girl. She may have a connection to the stone. The other prisoner will be interrogated, then killed.”
The Soturi hauled Ray and Ava away, escorting them to the detention center. They were each locked in a separate cell—spartan compartments with a set of bunks, a sink, and a toilet. An impenetrable force field contained the room. As with the Osprey, the air vent was much too small to be a viable route of escape.
The compartment was surprisingly clean, compared to some of the dungeons Ray had the joy of inhabiting in the past. There was that time on Proxima Ceti 9—Ray got into a bar fight with what turned out to be the mayor's son. He was locked up in a watery hole in the ground for three months and fed nothing but Suva Beetles. Not very tasty. Or the time on Ursula 6, when he got caught in a compromising position with the local magistrate’s daughter, the day before her wedding to a prominent senator. That cost him two months in solitary confinement on a bogus trespassing charge—depending on how you define trespassing.
The Realm didn't like to house prisoners for longer terms. They were expensive to maintain. You had to feed them, exercise them, and take care of their health. It was much more efficient just to incinerate them quickly.
Ray pressed his hands against the translucent force shield. It was like pressing against a glass barrier, only there was a slight vibration under his fingertips, and the shield indented ever so slightly under pressure.
Some of the older generation force fields were permeable. They were excellent at stopping blunt force, but slow steady pressure could permeate the membrane. If you had the patience, you could slowly push your way through them, but one aggressive move could be catastrophic. You might get cut in half, or lose a limb, if you inadvertently re-activated its connectivity matrix. It was a flaw that was addressed by newer generation technology.
Ray tried to push his fingertips through the beam, but there wasn't any permeability to this force field. He sighed. It was worth a try.
DIETRICH WAITED for Lord Maldovan in a conference room. Two Soturi stood guard outside the hatch. Dietrich sat at the table and reclined in a plush leather chair. He fidgeted nervously, almost feeling like a prisoner himself.
The hatch finally slid open, and Maldovan stormed into the compartment.
Dietrich stood up to greet him.
“You’re late.”
"We ran into some technical difficulties along the way. But I have the shard." Dietrich grinned. He pulled the crystal from his pocket and handed it to Maldovan.
“The Empress is in route. She will be most pleased.”
Dietrich couldn't see the expression behind Maldovan's mask, but the Dark Lord seemed to regard the stone with awe.
“About our ar
rangement…”
Maldovan broke from his trance. "My guards will escort you back to your ship and compensate you."
“Thank you. You've been most gracious."
Maldovan spun around and exited the compartment. The Soturi outside waited for Dietrich. He stepped into the corridor, and they escorted him through the labyrinth of passageways. None of it looked familiar, though all of the hallways seemed to blend together. It was easy to get turned around on a destroyer. You could spend days wandering the corridors. There were hangar bays, maintenance facilities, living quarters, munitions depots, storage compartments, recreational facilities, command centers. Each compartment was coded and numbered, and if you knew what the string of numbers stenciled on the strakes above the hatches meant, you could find your way around. The first set of letters indicated the deck. The second set indicated how far aft you were. The third set told you what side of the ship you were on—even numbers for port, odd numbers for starboard. The string of numbers were followed by a letter indicating the compartment usage code—“L” for living, “A” for supply and storage, “C” for ship control, and so on.
Anything above the flight deck was indicated with a zero before the deck number—01, 02, 03, etc. Decks below were listed in descending order—1, 2, 3, etc.
It all meant nothing to Dietrich. He had no military training or experience. He was just a criminal who had a knack for getting his hands on the things that people were willing to pay large amounts for. But he couldn't help shake the feeling that the Soturi weren't leading him back to the flight deck.
31
Dietrich knew the deal had gone south when the Soturi stopped at an airlock on the 2nd deck on the port side of the Wolverine.
One of the Soturi aimed his weapon at Dietrich, while the other mashed a button on the bulkhead, opening the inner airlock hatch.
“Wait a minute. You can’t do this.” Dietrich's face was creased with panic. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. His heart was in his throat. “We had an arrangement."
“Your services are no longer required.” The Soturi’s gruff voice was cold and unemotional.
"There must be some kind of mistake. I provide a great deal of value to the Realm."
“Lord Maldovan doesn’t make mistakes."
“He still needs me. The stones must be combined in a way that only I know.” He was lying, trying to stay alive.
“I have my orders." With the barrel of the weapon, the Soturi motioned toward the airlock.
"I will not take another step toward my own death,” Dietrich said defiantly, standing tall, puffing his chest out.
“Suit yourself," the Soturi said. He squeezed the trigger, and a bolt of plasma blasted from the barrel of his weapon. It vaporized Dietrich's head. His body crumpled to the deck. The other Soturi grabbed Dietrich's collar and dragged him into the airlock, then closed the hatch. Once the seal had been confirmed, the Soturi opened the outer airlock hatch and Dietrich's body was whisked into the vacuum of space. It tumbled away, end over end, disappearing into the inky blackness.
Lord Maldovan had agreed to pay Dietrich the tidy sum of 1.2 billion credits in exchange for the shard. The money had already been approved and transferred from the Realm treasury. No expense was to be spared in the acquisition of the shard, by order of the Empress. But that fee was now going into the Dark Lord's personal coffers.
“LORD MALDOVAN, Dietrich is dead,” Commander Vasko said. “What do you want me to do with the other prisoners?”
Maldovan stood at the command station in the CIC of the Excelsior. It was bustling with activity. Sailors manned their stations, keeping the massive ship operational. It may have technically been Captain Renmeer’s ship, but Maldovan was in control. He was the right hand of the Empress, and the highest ranking authority in the fleet.
“The girl may be of some use to us. Discard the rest.”
“Yes, my Lord. How long before the Empress arrives?" Vasko almost seemed nervous.
“Soon,” Maldovan said.
“I will make sure everything is in order." Vasko clicked his heels together, spun around, and marched out of the CIC.
RAY WAS SLIGHTLY AMUSED to see Vlaax and Nard thrown into a cell. There was no telling what happened to the rest of Dietrich’s goons. Ray waved and smiled at Vlaax as the Soturi ushered him into a cell across the hall. But when two Soturi returned twenty minutes later to take Ray to his execution, he wasn’t so amused.
“Do you want to do it here?” the lance corporal asked.
“No, then we’d have to carry the body to the airlock. Make him walk,” the sergeant said, grinning at Ray. “Back away from the force field!”
Ray took a few steps back. The sergeant deactivated the beam while the lance corporal kept his rifle aimed at Ray.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your head,” the sergeant said, pulling a pair of cuffs from his duty belt.
Ray complied, and the sergeant stepped into the cell. As the sergeant reached for his arm, Ray spun around, grabbing his wrist. In a flash, he had the sergeant’s wrist locked. He struck the sergeant’s elbow, snapping his arm.
The lance corporal watched, trying to line up Ray in his sights, but he didn’t have a clear shot.
Ray grabbed the sergeant’s sidearm, unholstered it, and blasted the lance corporal. The plasma bolt tore through his chest, knocking the Soturi to the ground. Ray’s finger squeezed the trigger, blasting off another round, vaporizing the sergeant’s skull.
Ray holstered the pistol and dashed into the corridor, scooping up the lance corporal’s assault rifle.
Two more Soturi rounded the corner at the far end of the hallway, coming from the command station. Plasma bolts streaked through the air, zinging past Ray. He could feel the searing heat as they blazed inches from his skin.
Ray dropped to his knee, lined one of the Soturi up in the reticle and double tapped him. Then he moved his sights to the second Soturi and repeated the process. He moved with technical precision. He was a pro—no doubt about it.
The Soturi flopped to the deck, their weapons clattering beside them. Smoke wafted from the charred craters in their flesh. The air was ripe with the pungent smell of seared skin, and the distinct smell of plasma bolts.
Ray looked over to the lance corporal. There was a big gaping hole in his chest. His uniform was useless. Ray stepped back in the cell and stripped the sergeant of his duty uniform and put it on. He stocked up with thermal grenades, extra charge magazines, and a tactical knife. Then he stepped back into the hallway, stooped down, and grabbed the lance corporal's cover. He placed it on his head, and even under the most discerning eyes, Ray looked like an Imperial Soturi.
He dragged the lance corporal's body into the cell, as well as the other fallen Soturi in the corridor. At least it wouldn't be painfully obvious that someone escaped at first glance. The detention center would just look suspiciously empty.
Ray found Ava’s cell and deactivated the beam.
“That's a new look for you," Ava said, surveying his uniform. Then she hauled off and punched him in the face. She connected like a champ.
Ray was stunned, and his jaw was throbbing. “What the hell did you do that for?”
Ava’s bright smile transitioned to a look of deep concern. She stammered, confused, “But that’s what you do when you are excited to see someone, isn’t it?”
Ray looked at her like she was crazy. “Where did you get that from?”
“Your friend Nero punched you. And that’s what Grace said people do when they are happy to see each other.”
“Oh, is that what Grace said?”
Ava nodded.
Ray rubbed his jaw. “Well, I’m excited to see you to. But, I’m not going to punch you. That’s not how people express affection.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointedly.
“Let's get out of here.” Ray led her down the corridor to the command center. He could hear Vlaax shouting at him, begging to be released. Ray ignored him. He m
oved to the hatch and peered through the viewport, into the hallway.
“Aren't we going to do something?" Ava asked.
“We're going to walk out of here with you as my prisoner," Ray said with air quotes, “steal back the shard, and escape on the Osprey."
“I mean, about them?"
“Who cares about them?”
“I do.”
“News flash. We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren’t for them.”
"You know they'll be killed."
“And that’s a bad thing?"
Ava arched an eyebrow at him. She wasn't going to take no for an answer.
“Okay. Fine,” Ray said, exasperated. He jogged back down the hallway to the cell that held Vlaax and Nard. He deactivated the force field to their cell. “You owe me one."
Vlaax nodded. The two aliens stepped into the corridor and moved to the main entrance hatch.
“What are we going to do?” Vlaax asked. “Just stroll down to the flight deck and board the Osprey?"
“After we get the shard back,” Ray said.
“Lord Maldovan has it by now. How do you expect to accomplish that?"
Ray shrugged. “I’m working on it."
"You're running out of time. I overheard one of the Soturi talking… the Empress will be here shortly,” Nard said.
“A few thermal grenades in the reactor core, and this whole ship becomes space debris,” Vlaax said. “Preferably when the Empress is aboard.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed at him, wondering if he could trust him. He didn’t have much of a choice. He handed Vlaax a couple of thermal grenades. “Set the charges to detonate in 30 minutes. We’ll meet back at the Osprey. Don’t leave without us.”
Vlaax nodded.
Commander Vasko’s voice blared over the 1MC. “Attention all personnel. The Empress is arriving momentarily on the flight deck A. Echo company, prepare to render honors.”
Ray opened the hatch and pushed into the corridor with Ava. He marched her down the hallway twisting through the labyrinth of passageways. They strolled past enlisted and officers without a second glance.