by E. R. Torre
I'm almost there.
A fresh surge of energy that almost eclipsed the pain and exhaustion filled him. He crawled forward.
He was almost there, and he inched along.
He was almost there...his work would be done. He'd be able to rest...to sleep...to...to...
Maddox could no longer move. His body had given all it could and would not move another inch.
Come on! He thought, but his limbs felt like they were encased in cement. I should be upset. I should be angry.
I should...
Exhaustion gripped him. He closed his eyes and was gone.
Stephen Gray reached the door leading into the Argus’ landing bay and entered the code. The door slid open.
Before approaching the Xendos, he crouched down and eyed the far side of the landing bay. He adjusted the magnification on his suit's faceplate until the distant entry became crystal clear. All details of the area came into focus, including wrecked equipment and antique machines. Of greatest importance was the missing landing bay doors, the route Inquisitor Cer and B'taav intended to use to get to the Xendos.
They were nowhere in sight.
Stephen Gray expected this. The display on the side of his visor offered the latest readings of their positions, and it indicated they were running the opposite direction with Balthazar close behind. Still, Stephen Gray gave the landing bay doors a look. He was a cautious man and wanted to be sure before moving.
When he was, he ran toward the Xendos.
“I’m trying hard not to get angry, but you’re making it very difficult.”
Nathaniel withstood another burst of energy from the yellow disk. Afterwards, the young boy offered his guardian the same contemptuous stare.
Francis Lane shook with rage.
“You’re going to talk,” she said. “I’ve got plenty of time and if the disk doesn’t do the job, there are other means. Primitive ones.”
The boy said nothing.
Francis Lane sighed. She reached for the pain disk and, instead of raising its settings, actually lowered the intensity. There was little to be gained in melting the boy's brain. At least at this point.
Nathaniel went limp. He fell sideways onto the bed and let out a whimper.
“Rest up while you can.”
Francis Lane eyed the small computer she brought along on this journey. It remained linked to the Argus' central computer operating system. A cursor flashed in a blank box. To gain access to the super juggernaut's data banks, she needed the proper access code.
The one the boy refused to give.
Francis Lane walked to her closet and pulled out a container from her small suitcase. She laid down its contents on the bed. Among the various toiletries was a small knife. Francis Lane examined its blade before running it over the palm of Nathaniel’s left hand. She pressed down hard, drawing blood.
Nathaniel shrieked and tried to pull his hand away, but Francis Lane held tight.
“That was just to get your attention,” she said. “You have ten fingers, child. For now.”
She grabbed the boy's pinky finger, twisting it away from the others while thrusting the blade at its base.
“Last chance, Nathaniel,” she said.
The boy still did not reply.
“Have it your way.”
Francis Lane gripped the boy and pressed the blade down hard. A horrific snap was followed by a scream.
Francis Lane released the boy's arm and drew several breaths.
“Nine more,” she said.
Tears flowed down the boy’s face. He dared not look at his tormentor, but neither did he speak. More seconds passed, and Francis Lane's patience was quickly exhausted.
“You asked for it,” she said.
Francis Lane again grabbed the boy's arm. He tried to pull away, but didn't have the strength to free himself from her grip. Francis Lane pulled at the pinky finger on his other hand and placed the blade against it.
“Talk, Nathaniel,” she said. “Don't make me do this again.”
The boy let out a whimper. Still he did not talk.
Francis Lane's jaw tightened.
“Fuck you!” she spat. The grip on the knife's handle tightened. “You can stop this, Nathaniel. Remember that!”
She drew a deep breath and was about to press down—
A loud buzz roared from the outer corridor and was amplified through the ship’s speaker system. It was a proximity alert. Someone was approaching the Xendos.
Francis Lane released the boy and ran to the window. She saw someone in an environmental suit run past the debris in the Argus' landing bay. The person was moving directly toward the ship.
“Who the hell?” Francis Lane muttered. What did this person hope to gain? The ship's decompression doors were closed. She had closed them herself—
Suspicion filled Francis Lane's mind. She pressed her face against the window and looked to the far right. She saw a light coming from the rear of the ship. From the decompression chamber.
The outer doors were still open.
“Son of a bitch!”
Francis Lane ran to her computer and clicked on a series of keys. The Argus' operating system was replaced with that of the Xendos. She clicked on another series of commands.
Decompression doors closed and locked, the monitor read.
“You fixed the controls, didn’t you?” she muttered. “You made me think they were closed when they were still open.”
She ordered the computer to shut the doors, but received an error message. The computer believed the doors were already closed, so any command to close them was therefore in error.
Francis Lane swore and switched to the navigation controls. Like Stephen Gray and Saro Triste, she too had hidden her piloting skills from the rest of the group. Now, if she could lift off and take the ship outside the Argus, it wouldn't matter if the decompression doors remained open or not. All she had to do was...
“Fuck!” she yelled.
The navigation controls were frozen. Francis Lane's face grew pale. The person on the landing bay was getting closer...and closer.
There was only one thing she could do: Get to the decompression chamber and use the manual over-ride to shut the outer door. But would she make it in time? She had no other choice but to try.
She slid past Nathaniel and approached the door leading out of her room.
“I’ll get back to you,” she said as she stepped into the corridor.
She only made it a couple of steps before coming to an abrupt stop.
Lying on the floor less than ten meters from her was Maddox. His fusion gun was cradled in both hands and aimed at her.
“Don’t move,” he said.
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
Inquisitor Cer reached the outer landing bay entrance of the Argus. The hole was massive.
She didn't linger, quickly climbing the melted metal remains of the hinge and entering the super juggernaut. She was at least a kilometer from the Xendos. The smaller ship's engines faced the landing bay and there would be no way for anyone on board to see her approach.
Inquisitor Cer ran, kicking up a mist of asteroid dust. She did not pause, she did not slow. Even a second delay could mean the failure of her mission.
Her breath grew ragged and sweat dripped down her face. In normal gravity and unencumbered, bridging this distance wouldn't have been taxing at all. But in these conditions, she had to muster every ounce of her energy to keep her legs moving.
When she was a little less than halfway to the Xendos, she spotted someone approaching the spacecraft from the front of that ship. He was only a few feet away from the craft's decompression doors and moving quickly to enter. The person wore the same environmental suit as B’taav and Balthazar, but was shorter. Inquisitor Cer activated her communication system and, although she couldn't be sure if the signal would reach that far given the dampener, nonetheless asked: “Who is that?”
The person beside the entry to the Xendos paused. He saw Inquisitor Cer.
/>
“You found the tracker units on your suit?” a voice said over the Inquisitor's speakers. “Very clever, Inquisitor. B'taav carries both trackers with him and leads Balthazar away while you storm the castle. Well done. Too late, but well done nonetheless.”
“Stephen Gray?”
“Yes dear,” he replied. “Give my regards to your Cardinal. I'm sure you'll see him again, in the afterlife.”
Inquisitor Cer hurried her pace as panic filled her mind.
Stephen Gray frowned.
Even though he stood next to the Xendos’ decompression doors and there was no way the Inquisitor would reach him before he closed them on her, he couldn't help but admire her continuing fight.
“I doubt you'll miss Saro,” Stephen Gray continued. “Both you and your Empire deserved better. When your final minutes run out, be content in the knowledge that his kind will no longer soil this universe.”
Inquisitor Cer ran with all her might.
“Besides, we'll be far better off with people like me in charge. I suspect you'd beg to differ.”
Stephen Gray laughed as he stepped into the decompression chamber. He took one last look at Inquisitor Cer.
“I've turned the communication amplification, or rather the dampening device, off,” Stephen Gray said. “Since you're close enough to hear, I'm certain you’re listening as well, B’taav. When Balthazar is finished with you, Independent, I'll make sure he has enough time to take care of Cer as well.”
“What did you do with Saro Triste?” Inquisitor Cer asked.
“The same I'm going to do to Francis Lane. You probably hear this as well, don't you, Ms. Lane? I'm coming for you next.”
Stephen Gray gave Inquisitor Cer one final wave before stepping into the Xendos. He held his fusion gun and aimed it at the decompression antechamber door, in case Francis Lane was on the other side. She wasn't.
Stephen Gray keyed his code into the computer controls and the heavy outer door slid closed. There was no way Inquisitor Cer could force her way inside the craft now, at least with fusion blasts alone. There were other means, from using the Argus' computers to override the Xendos' systems to finding and using explosives left behind in one of the Argus' cargo holds to blast the door open, but Stephen Gray wasn't about to give Cer time to try these alternatives. He meant to fly the ship out as soon as possible.
Air filled the decompression chamber and the lights inside changed from dark red to bright green. Stephen Gray quickly removed his space suit. When he opened the decompression chamber’s inner door, he expected to find Francis Lane there. Again he was disappointed.
“Where are you, Francis?” Stephen Gray called out. “It's been an awfully long day. How about we make this easy on both of us?”
There was no reply.
“Fine. We do this the hard way.”
Stephen Gray climbed the metal stairs leading to the decompression antechamber. From there, he stepped into the lower corridors of the ship and began his trek to the crew level.
Inquisitor Cer reached the decompression doors well after they were sealed. She pulled out B'taav's computer pad and hoped there was some way it might help her open the decompression doors. But there were no outer door panels. She ran her hands along the ship's smooth metal surface and searched in vain for any hidden compartment or keypad that could allow her entry. But she knew, from her previous work on the craft, there were no other usable entry points.
Cer took a step back and eyed the ship. She worried for those trapped inside with Stephen Gray and then thought of B’taav.
She clicked on her communicator.
“B’taav? Can you read me? Stephen Gray got into the Xendos before me. He’s locked me out.”
Inquisitor Cer waited for a reply but none came. Had Balthazar killed the Independent? If so, he was surely on his way here, to finish the job. She would have to be ready…
A sad smile appeared on Inquisitor Cer’s face. She couldn’t think of a bigger waste of time and energy than fighting off Balthazar while Stephen Gray gained control of the Xendos. Once he did, he would leave both Inquisitor Cer and Balthazar behind, fighting over a worthless, burned out relic while her self-destruct mechanism was armed and ticking down.
Inquisitor Cer’s smile faded.
Everything had fallen to pieces.
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
B’taav tripped against a line of exposed wires and momentum sent him to the ground. His broken right arm twisted under his body and a corrosive pain paralyzed him. Without realizing it, he dropped his fusion gun. When the pain receded and he opened his eyes, B’taav saw the gun slip into a narrow crevasse.
The Independent crawled forward and shone his wrist flashlight into the hole. It was deep. His light faded before reaching the bottom.
The fusion gun was gone.
B’taav spun around. Balthazar was just out of sight, but somewhere close.
“We did a hell of a job,” he muttered. While it was static filled, he heard most of the exchange between Stephen Gray and Inquisitor Cer. It was the reason he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have to the debris on the ground before him. Another message came through.
“—av? Can you—Gray got into the—before me. He’s locked me out.”
B’taav switched on his communicator. He was about to reply when the burly Merc grabbed him. Balthazar locked his hands on B’taav’s wrists, rendering him helpless.
B’taav looked directly into Balthazar’s faceplate and saw the Merc's Accelerant distorted face. Fiery bloodshot eyes stared back at the Independent. It felt like he was once again staring at Gail Griffen.
“By the Gods,” B’taav said.
The Merc had purposely overdosed. Perhaps he knew Stephen Gray would ultimately abandon him along with Inquisitor Cer and Francis Lane. He had neither a master nor a patron, and if he was to die, he would do so while taking his most hated enemies with him.
Saliva dripped off the side of Balthazar’s mouth. He screamed at the Independent, but because his communicator was smashed, B’taav could not hear any of his words.
He didn’t need to.
Stephen Gray climbed the stairs from the decompression chamber. He waved his fusion gun at each and every shadow along the way.
The Epsillon Industrialist noted a blood stain on these stairs. It led up, toward the crew compartment. Towards his destination.
No one could lose that much blood and live. At least not for very long.
Just as well, he thought.
The bloody trail continued beyond the crew quarters closed door. Stephen Gray pressed his head against the door, to listen for any sounds coming from within.
He took his time.
Francis Lane was frozen in place. From the way he cradled the gun, she knew Maddox was barely consciousness. He had not noticed the small red knife in her right hand, the one she used to snip off one of Nathaniel's fingers. With little effort, it could easily slit Maddox's throat and drain what little blood was left in him. Francis Lane drew that hand away and behind her.
“I'm pleased you're alive, Maddox,” Francis Lane said.
The gun in Maddox’s hand shook, as if it weighed several tons. She looked past the gun, at Maddox's bloody stump. Even now, blood seeped from the grotesque wound.
Maybe I won’t need the knife after all.
“You need help, Maddox. If you don’t get it, you’ll die.”
“Die?” Maddox mumbled. He sounded confused, disoriented.
“Let me help you,” Francis Lane continued. She kept the tone of her voice gentle and dared take a single step closer to him. “I'll save you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
She took another step and her confidence grew. She took several more steps. Easy. Slow. Soon, Maddox’s gun was just inches away from her. She could almost touch it.
Francis Lane tightened her grip on the knife. One jab was all she needed, right in his eye.
Maddox struggled to keep his head up.
&nbs
p; “You…” he began.
“Easy, Maddox. Just take it easy.”
Maddox lowered his head. His eyes closed. The fusion gun went down, settling onto the floor.
Francis Lane smiled. The Titus bartender's breath was deep. He was unconscious.
“For a moment there, you actually scared me,” Francis Lane whispered. She kept her right hand and the knife within it hidden behind her back, just in case. Maddox didn't move. Not at all.
With her left hand, she reached down to grab Maddox's gun.
“Sleep well, Maddox.”
Her fingers were only inches away. They were practically touching the gun's barrel…
“Freeze!”
Francis Lane stiffened. At the end of the corridor, at the doors leading to the stairs, stood Stephen Gray. His fusion gun was aimed at her.
Francis Lane took a step back. She kept her right hand, and the knife in it, hidden.
“Did you get the plans?” Stephen Gray asked.
“What?”
Stephen Gray fired a shot. The blast slammed against the corridor wall and sent a cascade of white hot embers onto the floor. Several of them struck and burned Francis Lane's face. She held her ground while the Industrialist approached.
“Don’t screw with me,” Gray said. “Before joining this crew, I checked up on the building and supply manifests of the Argus, just as I’m sure you did.”
“You know?”
“Of course I know. Now, did you get the fucking plans?”
“No. I’m…I’m having problems with the codes.”
“The boy still isn't talking? I figured a cold blooded bitch like you would have him singing operas by now.”
“He'll talk.”
“In time, I'm sure he will.”
Stephen Gray stopped a couple of feet from Francis Lane. He raised the gun's barrel until it was aimed at her head.
“You had your chance. It’s my turn.”
“He won't say anything to you,” Francis Lane said. She grasped her knife tight. Come closer, Stephen. Just a little bit. “I'm the only one capable of making him talk.”