Rogue Messiah: Fleetfoot Interstellar Series, Book 2

by P. Joseph Cherubino

  “Let us hope it does not fail,” Boljak replied as he pried open the control panel exactly where the schematic said it would be. He attached a strange, human-built device to the console and left it there. “I cannot read the human words here. Is it working?” Boljak asked.

  To his startlement, insectoid script appeared on the display. “Yes, it is working.” The words said.

  “The human living ship,” Dewey said. “It hears us. Very strange.”

  “Stand by,” Reggie said through his remote device.

  A moment later, the hull shook as the retaining clamps released cargo modules and pushed them gently out into space. More than twenty-thousand BJP soldiers inside those modules now posed zero threat.

  “Go!” Dewey urged. The team scrambled up two more decks to an access hatch that opened as they approached.

  “The Human thinking ship again,” Dewey said as he dropped through the hatch nearly on top of a running Human.

  The BJP crewman skidded to a halt. He looked up at the black form of a gigantic insect towering over him and pointing a rifle his way.

  “Eep,” the crewman pronounced, and a dark stain appeared at the crotch of his uniform. He dropped the instruments he held just before Dewey said “I am sorry,” and shot him with a tranquilizer.

  “No time for that!” Huey exclaimed as he and Boljak rushed past Dewey, who crouched down to check the Human’s vital signs.

  “You can’t apologize to every Human you shoot,” Boljak said as Dewey fell in line.

  “I know,” Dewey said as the team dropped four more engineers who rushed toward the cargo section. “One apology should be enough.”

  “For whom?” Huey asked. They reached a junction in the hallway where Huey and Dewey covered Boljak as he forced open a lift door.

  “Up!” Boljack shouted.

  Dewey jumped into the shaft first, grateful that it was wide enough to allow him to fly. Huey followed, and Boljak fastened a web to his back. The Arachnid gripped the thread with all his limbs as Huey carried him up with urgent velocity. They had to move fast to avoid being smashed by a lift. They made it to the bridge just before one of the cars streaked by.

  “Stop them!” one of the humans screamed. A rail rifle bullet punched a hole in the bulkhead where Boljak’s head was the instant before.

  The insectoids flicked their rail rifles to full-automatic fire and expended their ammunition in the space of a few seconds. Boljak missed his last target. The human took his time in aiming. Boljak froze and knew that his life was over. A black streak slammed into the human so hard that the rail rifle seemed to hang in the air for a moment before clattering to the deck. Dewey pinned the human to the floor with his right-middle hand around the human’s throat. The rest of his limbs pinned the crew member to the floor. It took nearly a minute for the human to stop moving. In the meantime, Huey and Boljak urged Dewey to stop.

  “Do not worry!” Dewey said. “I did not kill him. If you stop a human from breathing, they fall asleep quickly, then you let them breathe.” Dewey checked the Human’s flight suit display to make sure he was uninjured. "See, he is alive."

  “This is good to know,” Boljak said. “They are so fragile, though. How did they survive for so long?” The Spider busied himself in hog-tying the human with web.

  “Gather their weapons in case they wake up,” Dewey ordered.

  “Where is the target?” Huey asked.

  Movement caught their attention. All three leaped towards it. An older human struggled to extract himself from the unconscious body that lay atop him.

  Dewey switched to Tradespeak and asked, “You are Colonel Blevins.”

  “Not anymore,” Blevins replied. “When one mutinies, they don’t call you by rank anymore. Help an old man up, will you?” Blevins said.

  Huey reached down to lift him.

  “Saints in heaven preserve us,” Blevins declared. “You insectoids are a terrifying, but welcome sight.”

  In their excitement, they forgot a crucial element of the plan.

  “Call in!” Boljak exclaimed. Dewey scrambled toward a console where he activated the communications array. He opened a channel to the Fleetfoot I. “Secure,” he said, then closed the channel again.

  “I locked out the lifts just after you arrived,” Blevins said. “We should have enough time before they figure out how to get to us.”

  “Phase two is complete,” Dewey said in Tradespeak for the benefit of their new Human friend.

  32

  “What’s going on!” Margaret exclaimed. The Forest Child transport exploded with rushing and running feet and a cacophony of voices.

  “Malik made his move! All hell's breaking loose!” Abhay shouted as he tore through the common room, a display scroll rippling behind him like a standard in retreat.

  “Shit!” Margaret exclaimed, falling back to Ancient English to express the only thought that came to mind.

  The conference room was already crammed with the full Taskforce, including Sahar, the analyst from Medina 3 orbital. She seemed to be the center of attention as she sat at the conference table with three display scrolls before her. Her hands flew across the displays in response to the wild inquiries from Ambassador Karmani his husband. Even Abhay threw a question at her in between wild shouts. Margaret saw beads of sweat form on her brow.

  “Enough,” came a bass voice from the doorway. Dhohal did not have to shout to be heard. His voice cut through the commotion long enough to calm the crowd for a moment. “This is what we know,” Dhohal said. “Admiral Luthra announced his intention to take over the Armada one hour ago. Many of the Armada ship captains came over to his side. He then ordered the arrest of Captain Fleetfoot. It appears that one Lieutenant Zoyo Darzi made the arrest. Fifteen minutes after Luthra gave the arrest order, we lost communications with his lead ship as well as the Armada.”

  “Damn that Darzi!” Abhay bellowed. “I will kill her myself!”

  “Stay calm, friend,” General Kuwan said. “I have a suspicion that things may not be what they seem. Reserve your conclusions. The situation is far too chaotic right now. The two fleets are now intermingled. They have no formation. Nobody is giving orders out there.”

  “I just received a strange report,” Sahar said. “The BJP ground troops are adrift in space. The cargo pods they traveled in were detached from the BJP lead ship for some reason.”

  “Do we have reports of weapons fire?” Abhay asked.

  “No, but some of the BJP ships are trying to move to a firing position. They are being blocked by the ships carrying our Sufi Warriors.”

  “Nothing makes sense,” Margaret said. “It’s chaos.”

  “General Kuwan,” Abhay said, sitting down hard at the conference table. “I think you are onto something. This may not be what it seems. I recognize this chaos.”

  “What?” Sahar asked. “Explain.”

  “Chaos is a tactic I taught one of my students and former subordinates,” Abhay replied.

  ***

  “Talk to me, Insectoids!” Darzi barked across the open comm. Now that they made their moves, comm traffic was no longer a threat. She still kept the channel encrypted. If someone were listening, it would cost them effort and time to decipher the intercept. By the time they did that, it would be too late. Time was on their side, but every second that passed diminished that advantage.

  “The lead ship is secure and disabled. We are ready for the package,” Dewey replied from the bridge of the BJP lead ship.

  “How are the guests?” Darzi called over to the Admiral’s docked shuttle.

  “Prisoners secure. They are starting to wake, so we bound them to the flight chairs,” First Sergeant Kaur replied. She sounded amused.

  “Don’t enjoy yourselves over there. Finish up and get back now. We need to deliver the package,” Darzi replied.

  Moments later, the two Corporals jumped down the airlock opening followed by Jones and Kaur. Their hoods were down, and their EV combat suits were in relaxed mode.


  “Reggie,” Darzi said, “do you have control of the shuttle?”

  “Fully, Lieutenant,” Reggie replied.

  Darzi took a deep breath and let it out slowly through flared nostrils. “Don’t call me ‘Lieutenant’ anymore. I think this day has ended that forever,” she said.

  “I guess that goes for us then, too,” First Sergeant Kaur said.

  “What is your first name, anyway,” Jones asked her.

  Kaur smiled and replied, “Yati.”

  Jones pursed his lips, scratched his scarred chin and said, “I think I’ll just call you ‘Kaur.’”

  “Fair enough, Jones,” Kaur replied.

  The corporals looked at each other. Before they could exchange first names, Darzi said, “Enough! We can play nice later. We still have work to do, and I’m still in charge no matter what you call me. Get to your stations!”

  The four soldiers dispersed to staff the various airlocks where Darzi ordered groups of her new mercenary force to standby in case of boarding attempts. Darzi’s crew still worked the bridge consoles. The regular crew stood around looking increasingly uncomfortable.

  “You are dismissed,” she said. “Turn the bridge back over to the regular crew.” As Fleetfoot personnel returned to their stations, Darzi addressed them. “I hope you accept my apology. There was no time to explain. I think you get the point, though.”

  “No apology needed,” Darl said, taking his station again. “Thank you for saving us from that kulak.”

  “It’s the least I could do, but I’ll probably regret it. Such is life,” Darzi said as she took the lift down to the medical section. She had another explanation to make. This one, she was certain to enjoy thoroughly.

  She found Drexler still sleeping off the effects of the tranquilizer round. She could not help but laugh.

  “I think you are enjoying this a bit too much,” Doctor Abiola said as he sidled up to her.

  “Don’t tell me you are not,” Darzi replied.

  “I’d be lying if I denied it,” the Doctor said.

  The voices seemed to bring Drexler around. He moaned, and his eyes fluttered. Darzi pulled over a stool and sat on it, resting her elbow on the edge of the bed. She held her head up with her hand and looked down at Drexler.

  “You,” the Captain said. “Come to gloat over me in my cell?”

  Darzi just grinned harder. In spite of his obvious pain, Drexler couldn’t help but return the smile. “Even in prison, it’s good to see you,” Drexler said. “I guess you did what you had to.” He closed his eyes again.

  “Open your eyes,” Darzi said softly.

  “Too bright,” Drexler said.

  “Try harder.”

  Drexler forced his eyes open wide enough to recognize where he was. “Samuel?” he said.

  “Right here, Drex,” Samuel said.

  “How…” Drexler mumbled.

  “That stuff really threw him out of orbit,” Darzi chuckled.

  “I’m not in a brig?” Drexler asked through a mouth that sounded full of cotton.

  “I’ll give you two a moment,” Samuel said. “See you soon, Captain.”

  “You didn’t turn me in?” Drexler asked.

  “No.” Darzi replied.

  “Why?” Drexler asked.

  Darzi sighed and leaned forward. She brought her rough, slender fingers to Drexler’s cheek and tilted his groggy head toward her. Her lips lingered on his with an insistence both tender and firm. Drexler tried to lift his hand to her face but only managed to drop it from the table where it swung like a pointless pendulum.

  “Oh!” he managed to say.

  Zoyo Darzi stood and left the room without another word. Drexler cursed mightily the drug in his system that did not allow him to watch her go.

  “My head,” Drexler said as he tried to roll off the med bay bed. “Doctor,” Drexler moaned.

  Samuel appeared by his side.

  “Stimulant!” Drexler slurred.

  “I can’t―” Samuel began, and Drexler managed to grab the leg of his medical scrubs and growl. “Damn it,” the Doctor said. “If I don’t you’ll break yourself trying.”

  Samuel retrieved a syringe from a locked cabinet and returned to the bed. “This might make your heart explode, but here we go.”

  It seemed to work as soon as the needle hit Drexler’s vein. His heart beat like a caged rodent and his eyes felt as if they would detonate. The pain in his head was electric for a moment and then he felt a wellness he’d never experienced.

  “Wow!” Drexler said, sitting up, pain free. “Where have you been all my life!”

  “I will not tell you what this is. If you are not back here in the next twenty-four hours, I am coming to find you. I mean it. If you do not come back here within the next day, you will be addicted to this stuff.”

  “From a single dose?” Drexler asked.

  “Yes. I mean it, Captain. Do not ignore me. I did not do you a favor here.”

  Drexler slapped Samuel on the shoulder as he hopped up from the bed. He left the med bay and took the lift to his bridge. The powerful stimulant was not the only thing putting a spring in his step.

  Drexler stepped off the lift to find an old caucasian man standing on his bridge in the working uniform of the BJP space fleet. The Captain blinked hard to make sure the drugs were not causing hallucinations. He checked his forearm display to see how long he’d been unconscious. It was only about an hour.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, sir,” Drexler said, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. He noticed the bridge airlock was still open. The shuttle, or another one like it, was connected to his ship. “Captain Drexler Fleetfoot, CEO of the Fleetfoot Interstellar Freight Company.”

  The man offered a firm, confident clasp of the hand. “Colonel Artemis Blevins, Retired.”

  Drexler gave a start at the name. His mouth dropped open in spite of himself.

  “Yes, I am that Colonel Blevins, I’m afraid.”

  “Never be afraid or ashamed of who you are, Sir,” Drexler said, “My old man taught me that, the disappearing son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Quite right,” Blevins replied, “Thank you for this wisdom.”

  “Welcome aboard,” Drexler said “Now, please forgive me for being rude, but may I ask why the hell you are here?”

  It was Blevin’s turn to look surprised. “You were not aware of the plan?”

  “Sir, apparently, I was the plan. I just woke up from a knock-out-round from a rail rifle.”

  “I see,” Blevins replied. “It may be a long story, then.”

  Drexler shook his head, looked around the bridge. He counted a full crew. “Where is Mumlo,” Drexler asked.

  “He’s on the Jubilee, sir,” Darl replied.

  “Was that part of the plan?” Drexler asked.

  “Not sure Captain,” Darl replied.

  “Who was in command while I was out?”

  “I was, Captain,” Darl said.

  “I am grateful to you, Darl. You can stay in charge while I speak with Colonel―”

  “Retired,” Blevins interrupted.

  “―the retired Colonel here.”

  “You may call me ‘Art.’” Blevins said.

  “Too soon for that. How about Mr. Blevins?”

  “As you wish.”

  The two men took the bridge lift down to the mess hall deck and followed the wide corridor to the cafeteria. Drexler held his head as they walked along.

  “Are you unwell?” Blevins asked.

  “Yes. My doctor gave me a shot to wake me up. He was right. Felt great at first, but he really didn’t do me any favors.”

  Nuva took one look at him, hurried over and took him by the arm. She led him to a table and stuck a medical device in his face. He slapped it away. She grabbed his arm and touched the device to his skin.

  “Your electrolytes!” Nuva exclaimed and hurried off.

  Blevins sat at the cafeteria table and studied Drexler. “Your crew truly c
ares about you,” he said.

  “I pay them well,” Drexler replied.

  “The intel on you says that is not true,” Blevins replied.

  “Recently, I pay them well,” Drexler said. “Spying is not nice,” he added.

  Nuva returned with a large cup of something cold. “Drink this,” she demanded. Drexler moaned. Nuva’s voice grew shrill. “Drink this now or I quit!”

  Nuva sound like she meant it, and that scared Drexler, so he drank. His posture straightened. He gulped, and Nuva guided the cup away from his mouth. “Not too fast!” she said. “Slowly, but I am glad you like it. I will be back to check on you.”

  Drexler just nodded his head again and sipped as instructed. “Thank you, Nuva. I feel better already.”

  “Of course you do,” Nuva replied. “I am a professional.”

  “My head feels clearer now," Drexler said. "Tell me your tale, Mr. Blevins.”

  ***

  The pounding started as a physical pain in his head. He lived with it for a time in some dark place. Before he realized he was asleep, the pain felt as if it would split his skull. Then the pounding changed to something external. It seemed to reverberate from inside his skull, returning to him through the deck. The hard, cold surface on which his head rested could only be a ship deck. He knew this because he was an Admiral as well as a ship captain.

  Memory was slow to return. The pain kept thoughts at bay. The pounding continued, and the pain lessened. He sat up and felt the pounding through the palms of his hands as he pushed himself upright. A strange sense of happiness washed over him. He congratulated himself on understanding where he was.

  “My ship,” he mumbled, crawling to the nearest console. He clawed himself upright. As he rose, it was as if he climbed through various levels of memory to arrive at this particular moment in time.

  On his feet again, Admiral Luthra found nothing to be happy about. He was not to be congratulated. He was betrayed. He was tricked, used in the coarsest of ways. He felt like a mere underling again, low of caste, to be bent to the will of others. He would have to prove himself all over again. Darzi shot him, then dumped him back on his ship like a wayward animal returned to a game preserve.