The Last Flight of the Argus

by E. R. Torre

  “Understood,” the Merc replied. “You will create anxiety with the others.”

  “I could care less about them. When they arrive at the Argus' central computers, take them out, too.”

  “But who will pilot us out of here, Francis?” Balthazar said and laughed.

  “We'll speak later,” Francis concluded. Her attention returned to Nathaniel.

  CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

  When Stephen Gray and Saro Triste arrived at the Xendos’ decompression antechamber, Balthazar wasn't there.

  “Where the hell did that Merc go?” Saro Triste asked. “We didn't pass him on the way down.”

  Stephen Gray saw there were three missing environmental suits, but said nothing. The intercom let out a loud beep.

  “We've got a message from the bridge,” Stephen Gray said. He activated the communication system and Francis Lane appeared on the monitor. Behind her was Nathaniel. He was drenched in sweat.

  “You're still in the bridge?” Saro Triste said.

  “Yes,” Francis Lane said.

  “Where is Balthazar?”

  “I sent him to the supply room, to look for medicines. Any medicines. The boy...”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s emerging from the tranquilizers much faster than I thought he would.”

  “Can he suit up?” Stephen Gray asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “By the Gods,” Saro Triste groaned. “We need to go!”

  “Easy, Saro,” Stephen Gray said. “If we lose the ship’s codes, we’re finished.”

  “Stephen is right,” Francis Lane said. “Hopefully, Balthazar will find something I can use. Until then, I'll stay here, guarding the bridge.”

  Saro Triste shook his head.

  “When will he be ready?”

  “Maybe...maybe it’s best I take Nathaniel back to his room,” she said. “If he rests a little while, perhaps an—”

  She never finished her thought. Nathaniel let out a howl and slammed his hands against his head. The boy collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

  Balthazar walked past the landing bay doors and into the body of Argus. He wasted no time sightseeing for at this point the Merc only cared about his mission.

  He pressed down on the Accelerant dispenser under his environmental suit and felt the warm, familiar burst of energy. His muscles tightened and power surged through his body.

  No, Balthazar couldn’t waste time looking at all the wonders around him.

  All he cared about was killing Inquisitor Cer.

  Saro Triste and Stephen Gray stood several feet behind Francis Lane and Nathaniel. The boy was in bed. His body was covered in sweat. A look of terror filled his face.

  “He’s getting worse,” Stephen Gray said. “Is this withdrawal or is something else going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Francis Lane responded.

  Saro Triste bit his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to suit up and force the boy to the Argus' central computers. There, the codes that only the child knew would unlock the computer's databanks. Once unlocked, they would know where in this massive ship the Charybdis device was hidden.

  “You said the drugs would last a few hours,” Stephen Gray said.

  “I was obviously wrong,” Francis Lane retorted.

  She rubbed the boys’ shoulders and, as she did, the terror in his face faded. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes. His breathing became deep and regular. Soon, he was sleeping.

  Balthazar stepped back as a burst of air rushed past him. Inquisitor Cer was right, there was atmosphere within the Argus.

  He stepped inside the decompression chamber door and closed the outer door. He allowed the machinery to do its work. Once the atmospheric pressure was stable, he opened the inner door and moved forward.

  “Good,” Francis Lane said. “Maybe when he wakes, he’ll be better.”

  “We're wasting too much time,” Saro Triste said. “We should suit him up, take him down, and hope for the best.”

  “That would be unwise,” Francis Lane said. “If he has one of these attacks while we’re out there…”

  “Then force him to reveal the access codes now!”

  “If I was able to do so, do you think I would have gone to all the trouble of bringing the boy along? Our best hope of getting those access codes is by sitting him down in front of the Argus’ computer operating systems.”

  “And how do you propose to do that when we can't even get him out of this fucking room?” Saro Triste yelled.

  “If we can't bring the boy to the Argus' operating system, it might be enough to bring the operating system to him.”

  “But the computers within the Argus’ are locked down, hardwired,” Stephen Gray said. “The last thing the crew wants is an outside force hacking into their software.”

  “We don’t need to link up to the actual computer,” Francis Lane said. “We could set up a camera before the central computer's monitor. The camera signals can be relayed back here so the boy can see them. The quality won’t be optimal...”

  “But it'll be enough for the boy to remember the codes!” Saro Triste exclaimed.

  “It just might,” Francis Lane said. “Suit up and I'll guide you to the central computer room. Once we get the system activated, and provided Nathaniel tells us what we need to know, we’ll unlock the security systems around the Charybdis bomb. When we secure the device, I’ll tell you how to set the self-destruct mechanisms.”

  Francis Lane rubbed Nathaniel’s forehead.

  “You’ll need to take tools to release the bomb from its moorings. You'll have to work as fast as you can, in case Nathaniel doesn’t last.”

  “What if the bomb is located somewhere in the center of the ship?” Saro Triste asked. “How do we cut it out?”

  “In one of his more...lucid...moments, the boy told me the device was located near an enormous exit hatch. It makes sense. How else would it be deployed? Provided there isn't any debris in the way, all we have to do is enter the activation code, unlock the device from her berth, and float her outside the Argus. Then we fly the Xendos to her, strap the bomb down, and we’re on our way.”

  “Let’s not waste any more time,” Saro Triste said. “When Balthazar is finished searching for tranquilizers, send him after us. We'll likely need his help.”

  “I'm sure you will,” Francis Lane said.

  Both Saro Triste and Stephen Gray exited Francis Lane’s room.

  After the duo was gone and the door closed, Francis Lane straightened her skirt and let out a harsh laugh. Time enough had passed. Balthazar was surely close to Inquisitor Cer by now.

  Very close.

  Francis Lane pulled up Nathaniel’s right sleeve and removed the yellow disk she planted on his upper arm. She eyed the disk’s readings and said, “Oh my. I set the level a bit too high. It must have hurt quite a bit.”

  The boy stirred but remained asleep.

  “Good thing I shut it off after you fainted.”

  She pocketed the disk and once again laughed.

  Saro Triste reached the end of the corridor and hurried down the stairs leading to the ship’s decompression chamber. He caught up to Stephen Gray and grabbed him by the shoulder.

  “Hold on a second,” Saro Triste told the Epsillon industrialist.

  “Every second counts.”

  “It most certainly does.” Saro Triste lowered his voice to a whisper. “But for now, I’m sure you recognize our unique opportunity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It's down to you, me, and Francis Lane, and all that Francis Lane and that brat kid have done is slow us down. She's even got us doing all the dirty work. I don't know about you, but I'm finding it harder and harder to justify sharing that bomb with her. She's a fossil, Stephen, a member of political party that hasn’t had the sense to realize it’s extinct.”

  Stephen Gray’s eyes narrowed.

  “Francis Lane has Balthazar.”

  “And I’ve got In
quisitor Cer.”

  “You want to send her up against him?”

  “It worked with B’taav.”

  “It’s not my place to tell you how to deal with your subordinates, Cardinal, but ordering her to take on Balthazar might make her suspicious.”

  “Why?”

  “Inquisitors are tough bastards, one and all, but they’re also noble to a fault. Having Inquisitor Cer kill B’taav was easy enough. He was never a part of our organization and she had good reason, both personal and professional, to do what you ordered. Getting rid of Balthazar, on the other hand, might tip her off.”

  “To what?”

  “To the fact that you're here like we all are, to get our hands on the bomb. Destroying the Argus was always incidental.”

  “She’ll do as I say.”

  “She might wonder, accurately, if your loyalties are still with the Religious Council.”

  “I have devoted my life to it.”

  “So you have,” Stephen Gray said. “But you've decided they need new blood at the top. Yours.”

  Saro Triste opened his mouth to protest, but Stephen Gray waved him off.

  “Come now, Saro. You've got your sandbox and I've got mine. I'd rather deal with you as the sole ruler of the Phaecian Empire than any of the Overlords or other Cardinals.”

  “You will get your wish.”

  “I hope so,” Stephen Gray said. “However, Inquisitor Cer may not see things like you do. When you convinced her to come to the Epsillon Empire, you told her your purposes were noble. Back in the asteroid, when we were forced to explain to B'taav and the Inquisitor what we were doing here, we furthered that lie by saying our goal was to destroy the Charybdis device. Changing those plans, especially when there's the very real possibility doing so will make you the most powerful man in the Phaecian Empire, may not agree with her more patriotic sentiments.”

  Saro Triste said nothing.

  “And that's the dilemma, isn't it?” Stephen Gray continued. “In time I'm sure you could convince her to kill Balthazar. But time, as you said before, is in short supply. Besides, even if we could come up with a good reason to order your Inquisitor to kill Balthazar, the only way to send that order is through her communicator. Balthazar or Francis Lane might hear, and things would get very messy.”

  Saro Triste swore.

  “There are other possibilities,” Stephen Gray said. “Given the fact that your Inquisitor will likely become as big a problem to us as the Merc is now, our best course of action is to eliminate them both.”

  “How?”

  “We send them on a mission. Tell them to pick something, anything, up from the far end of the ship. It gives us the time we need to find and retrieve the bomb, return to the Xendos, and kill off Francis Lane and the boy.”

  “We kill...?”

  “I know you're not used to getting your hands dirty, but special circumstances require great effort. After the woman and the brat are dead, we fly off.”

  “Leaving Inquisitor Cer and Balthazar behind.”

  “Absolutely. They'll be in the middle of their fool's errand while the Argus' self-destruct mechanism counts down to zero.”

  “Who will pilot the Xendos?”

  Stephen Gray chuckled.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Before jumping into any potentially dangerous situations, I make it a habit of knowing my companions. Saro, you’ve been overly modest in describing your piloting skills.”

  Saro Triste smiled.

  “As have you,” the Cardinal replied.

  “I'm impressed. You’ve taken the time to research me as well.”

  Stephen Gray patted Saro Triste on the shoulder. “We dump Francis and the boy's bodies on the landing bay. When the Argus self-destructs, there will be no evidence of our having been here.”

  “None at all.”

  “So we’re in agreement?”

  Stephen Gray held out his hand and Saro Triste shook it.

  The two laughed and headed down the stairs and to the decompression chamber. Neither of them noticed an obviously forgotten maintenance room door close by.

  Within that room, Maddox lay on the floor. His face was pale, his lips were parched, and his eyes sunken in their sockets. Yet he still held a steady grip on the handle of his fusion gun.

  The one time Titus bartender eyed the weapon and thought of B’taav. The Independent was dead, killed by Inquisitor Cer, and Maddox was the only person remaining who could fight these traitors.

  They would all be off the ship. All except for Francis Lane and the boy.

  Maddox eyed the crack in the maintenance room's door. Beyond it lay the stairs leading up into the ship. It would take all his energy to make that climb, especially on one leg.

  But Maddox had to do it.

  It would be one of his very last actions. He would climb those stairs and make his way to the crew quarters. Once there, he would finish this.

  He would kill Francis Lane.

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  Balthazar stared through the glass panels and at the withered remains of the Hydroponics level. His gaze lingered only moments before moving on. Inquisitor Cer wasn't far.

  When the Merc reached the corridor's end, he took a hard right into the crew quarters.

  He passed several doors before spotting a faint light in the distance. He quickly shut his suit’s lights off and hurried his pace. The Merc kept close to the walls, to minimize the possibility of being spotted. As he moved, he realized the floor below him was buckled. At some point, maybe even recently, a large asteroid slammed into the Argus and burst through the decks below. Here and there Balthazar spotted cracks in the floor, some of them large and very deep. The Gods alone knew how far the drop was.

  The Merc wondered how the Argus retained her atmosphere after such a breach. Perhaps, he thought, there was an emergency redundancy system that took care of this. But the Merc didn't give it much more thought. There were other things to do.

  As he approached the light source, the Merc slowed, inching his way to a door. Beyond it, he knew, was Inquisitor Cer. Balthazar cradled his fusion gun and pressed his back against the wall beside the door. He took a peek.

  The room beyond was cavernous. Inquisitor Cer stood at its rear and beside the light source, an enormous computer monitor. She was working on the Argus' central computer. Beside her was the case of energy cells B’taav stole from the Xendos.

  Inquisitor Cer leaned down to connect one of the larger cells to the system. She then tapped on the keyboard to her side and read the display on the monitor. She was quite busy.

  Good.

  Balthazar looked away from her. Between the door and her position was a large gash in the floor. The darkness below confirmed the destruction of the lower decks. It was a miracle the central computer was still in one piece. To get to the Inquisitor, Balthazar would have to cross the area very carefully.

  Lying close by and to his left was a crumpled environmental suit. At first Balthazar thought it belonged to one of the crew of the Argus, but a closer look revealed it to be from the Xendos. There was a body within it.

  B'taav's.

  Dark drops of liquid spread on the front of his suit and floated around the body.

  The Merc nodded in satisfaction.

  The liquid was B’taav’s blood.

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  Saro Triste and Stephen Gray struggled to put their environmental suits on. They desperately wanted to be off and get their hands on their treasure. Stephen Gray swore at his clumsiness while noting Saro Triste suffered the same difficulties. He let out a frustrated laugh.

  “When I was young, I could get these things on in seconds,” Stephen Gray said. “I’ve become too comfortable working behind a desk.”

  “As long as you're doing Gods' work, the location doesn't matter,” Saro Triste said.

  “Your faith is still strong, Saro?”

  “Very much so, even if I've become... disillusi
oned...with the way we spread the good word. In the old days, dissent wasn't tolerated. Cleansing heathens was our one…our only…priority. We've become weak. We talk of tolerance and allow alternative views and praise cultural differences.” These last words came out with a tone of contempt. “After I get my hands on the bomb, I will control the message. We will go back to the way things were. The way things should be. Purity of thought and action. What I do here will restore the Phaecian faith as well as the Empire.”

  “Or else?” Stephen Gray said. “Tell me, Cardinal, how do you stand being here, with me?”

  Saro Triste's smile revealed very sharp teeth.

  “I don't,” he said. “What about you, Mr. Gray? What are your goals?”

  “They’re remarkably similar to yours, Saro. Cultural and religious differences in Epsillon are irrelevant. Our religion is profit, our church is capitalism. Those who control territory, precious metals, or any desirable product are the ones in charge. When I get my hands on the Charybdis bomb, I’ll control them all. I'll issue proclamations and again devote ourselves to research and technology. There will be plenty of jobs. There will be plenty of profit.”

  “Or else?”

  Both Stephen Gray and Saro Triste laughed. Stephen Gray tightened the straps about his waist and reached for his helmet.

  “What about our Empires’ relationship? You wouldn’t turn the weapon our way, would you?”

  “No,” Saro Triste replied. “I will honor our agreement. The Charybdis device, once in our hands, will be delivered to an equal number of our agents at an agreed upon neutral site. It will be dissected and replicated one time. We'll each receive a copy of the bomb's blueprints and one of us will get the original device while the other takes the replicate. ”

  “We'll flip a coin on that.”

  “Agreed. Afterwards, whatever expansion we engage in as rulers of our empires will be limited to the Erebus border. The fact is, Mr. Gray, we gave up on your culture years ago, and we have hundreds of more years to go before our internal fractures are...healed. We will not bother you. At least not until then.”