“Found anything?” Chaz called.
There were clatters and clinks as Estelle and Kelly continued ransacking the lower cupboards, searching for anything that might be of use.
“Vodka,” Kelly volunteered, “lots of it!”
“Bring it here,” Chaz said. “And hurry!”
Estelle thrust two of the large bottles into Kelly’s arms and the woman somewhat reluctantly crawled towards Chaz, pausing under tables as she went.
“How many are there?” Chaz asked, as she pulled up next to him.
“About two dozen or so under the counter,” she said. “Maybe more if—”
“Toss them out there!” Chaz said. “Take the caps off and try to throw them so that they break. Make sure you get a good spread. Dodds, help her; Estelle, pass them the rest. Enrique and I will cover you.”
Estelle called to Dodds as she rolled some of the bottles across the floor towards him. He collected them up, pausing for a moment as he unscrewed the caps to inspect them. The bottles were near-black, as if they contained red wine. The glass, however, was actually clear, the oil-like liquid within being what gave the bottles their dark appearance. The label on the front simply read ‘Velda’, written in large red contrasting type; elsewhere, in white, ‘75% ABV’.
Chaz’s plan dawned on him.
“You’re going to set up a wall of fire, aren’t you?” Dodds said.
Chaz nodded, but raised a finger to his lips as he did so. It was clear that he didn’t want their adversaries to get wind of his idea before he’d had time to put it into action. Dodds said nothing more, and began hurling the bottles out the bar with gusto, ensuring that they shattered and the contents spread out over a wide area. Kelly and Estelle followed suit, Enrique lending a hand, in-between laying down suppressing fire.
As the bottles were thrown out, smashing on the white marble floor, the black soldiers stopped firing and held their position behind the massive desk. They seemed uncertain of what was going on and why their enemy had resorted to such an unusual act. From what Dodds could tell, all the bottles had shattered where they had been thrown, the alcohol spreading out across the floor and being soaked up by the clothes and possessions it encountered there.
“Only got one shot left,” Enrique called, around the same time that the supply of vodka bottles ran out.
“Pass it over here,” Chaz said to Enrique, who slid the weapon across the floor towards him. He then looked to the others. “When I give you the signal, I want you all to get out of here and head towards the airlock. Don’t wait for me; I’ll be right behind you.”
“Don’t worry,” Dodds explained to Estelle, Kelly and Enrique. “In a second, there’s going to be a big fire between us and them.”
“We’re going to need a little more than that, though,” Chaz said, producing three canisters. The smoke grenades. “Take a deep breath,” he said, before pulling the pin on the first and letting it roll away from him. The canister immediately began to billow thick green smoke, a dense cloud filling the inside of the bar. Setting off another, he tossed it just outside the entrance, yellow smoke belching forth and beginning to cover the surrounding area. He then threw the third in the direction they needed to go in order to reach the airlock, a cloud of purple smoke spewing out of the canister.
It hadn’t taken long, but already Dodds found that the visibility within the dense concoction had dropped to barely a few metres. He hoped he’d be able to see where he was going; at least long enough to reach their destination. He saw Chaz drop the pistol into his flight helmet, before he tossed both it and the shotgun just outside the bar. He then fumbled about for something else. The two grenades. Dodds had originally expected Chaz to use one of the many flaming timbers that littered the inside of the bar. He then figured that the explosion produced by the two grenades would have a much more immediate and powerful effect on the alcohol.
“Go! Now!” Chaz said.
Dodds leaped to his feet, first ensuring that Estelle, Kelly and Enrique were on their way, before following after. As the thick bank of multicoloured gas began to envelop him, he looked around for Chaz, just about able to make out the silhouetted form of the big man as the smoke curled around him. The five soldiers, however, were nowhere to be seen.
There then came a sharp flare and several pairs of slanted glowing shapes pierced the smoke screen. He recognised them as the eyes of the troopers. Just as the one before, they must have activated the infrared of their helmets, to enable them to see through the cloud Chaz had set up. The screen that had been masking the Knights’ escape would be undone, their forms revealed to the soldiers as silhouettes of red, yellow and blue-green hues, running from the bar in the direction of the airlock corridor.
All that was, except for one, who remained outside the entrance of the shot-up bar. Chaz didn’t remain there for very long, however, making a sudden throwing motion, before beginning to run towards Dodds, grabbing two objects off the floor as he went. An instant later, there came an explosion, a fierce blaze springing up, causing the five illuminated soldiers to stagger backward, lowering their weapons and covering their eyes.
It was as he had suspected – Chaz had used the alcohol in the vodka to create a fire that would keep the soldiers at bay and allow the team to make a run for it. But Chaz had taken it one step further, ensuring that, with both a smokescreen and a fire in their way, their adversaries would suffer difficulties in both chasing after and tracking the escapees.
For the moment, anyway.
The speed at which Chaz was heading towards him told Dodds that it probably wouldn’t be for very long. He turned around and made a hasty retreat.
*
Enrique was fumbling with the airlock chamber door control, hurriedly trying to get it open. Dodds shoved him aside, working the control panel and opening the door to allow the others in. He waved Chaz through as he brought up the rear, still carrying with him the shotgun he had entrusted to Enrique, as well as his flight helmet.
“Dodds, get in here!” Estelle called to him.
Dodds started into the chamber, only to feel a great weight suddenly holding him back. He felt fingers tightening around his leg. He looked down to see that one of the soldiers’ previous victims wasn’t yet dead, and was now clinging on to him for dear life.
“Hey! Let go!” Dodds started, trying to shake the man off.
The refugee held on tight despite his efforts, refusing to release him, the desperation to escape and reach safety all but closing his ears to Dodds’ protest. Dodds heard the sound of heavy boots hitting the floor, knowing that they could only belong to one particular set of owners. He swore profusely, reaching down to loosen those tight fingers, in an attempt to pry the man from him.
“Pandoran! Pandoran!” the man said, looking back around himself in fear.
“Get off me!” Dodds cried.
“Pandoran! Pandoran of his Senate! They kill me!” The refugee began attempting to pull himself up. Dodds felt as though he was going to topple over at any moment. “Pandoran! Pandoran!” He repeated the same word over and over. It sounded like a name.
“Help!” Dodds cried, looking around to his allies in the chamber, who were affixing their helmets and checking their gear. Chaz came rushing out the airlock chamber, coming up beside the grappling pair. The big man struck the refugee with the butt of the shotgun, causing him to release his grip, before grabbing Dodds by the upper arm and hauling him into the chamber.
“Close the damn door!” Chaz barked as the five black-clad soldiers rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and hammered towards them. As the airlock doors began to close, Chaz raised the shotgun for one last time and discharged it. The soldiers didn’t even halt as the gun was fired, the foremost pursuer being bowled off her feet by the blast. The remaining four soldiers merely stepped over her, seemingly very aware that the attack had caused no lasting damage. The shotgun now useless, Chaz threw it through the diminishing gap of the doorway, just as the door shut before him.
He then proceeded to don his helmet, though he didn’t turn his back on the scene on the other side of the door. Dodds did likewise, powerless to do anything but stand and witness the fate of the refugee that had tried to escape along with them.
The man lunged for the shotgun that lay at his feet, turning it towards the advancing soldiers and squeezing the trigger. The terror on his face increased as he discovered that it was empty. With few options open to him, the refugee made a vain attempt at rushing the soldiers, swinging the shotgun like a club.
It ended quickly.
The lead trooper tackled the man, knocking the shotgun from his grasp and placing him in a tight hold. In a flash, a knife was in the soldier’s hand. It was drawn across the man’s throat in one fluid and powerful motion, before the soldier let the man slip choking and gasping to the floor. It was a terrible thing to witness, but Dodds knew that there was nothing they could’ve done for the man. Had he remained in the chamber with them, he would only have perished within a minute of exposure.
The remaining soldiers ran up to the closed door and stood in front of it, the foremost raising the rifle they held, training it on Chaz through the chamber door window. Dodds waited in rapt silence. Even though the soldier could’ve killed Chaz with one squeeze of the trigger, it appeared that she wasn’t about to do so. To shatter the glass window would risk exposing the entire port to the vacuum of space the moment the outer airlock door opened. Even so, the soldier waited. If for any reason the outer door failed to open, whether it be because of a mechanical failure or security violation, Dodds was certain that she wouldn’t hesitate to discharge the weapon.
He studied the soldiers in the still of the moment. They all stood stiff as statues, their rifles marking the group in the airlock. There was something cold and unnatural about the way they stood so still, so very regimented and mechanical. Dodds looked to his team, seeing their concerned faces beneath their helmets. With the helmet’s communicator on, he could hear them breathing loudly. Chaz remained where he was, acknowledging no one else, his back to his team-mates. He was staring directly at the soldiers on the other side of the glass, as if playing a game of wills with them, daring them to blink first.
There was a sudden wail, which caused Dodds to jump.
“Here we go,” Enrique announced, as a warning alarm started in the chamber. Depressurization followed, and then there came the sound of the outer door’s locks releasing. Dodds felt himself start to drift out, and he made sure he had a good grip on the control of his propulsion pack. He noticed how Chaz continued to stare at the soldiers on the other side of the glass, even as he floated out beyond the chamber. Dodds slowed himself, catching sight of the man’s expression as he passed by. It was one of pure hatred.
This isn’t the first time you’ve met these guys, is it, Chaz? Dodds thought. At a time such as this, that could only be a good thing. He looked back to the corridor and saw the soldier who had been marking the door snap back her gun and swing around, retreating down the corridor with her team-mates.
“They’re coming after us,” Chaz’s voice came in Dodds’ earpiece. “They’re not going to give up easily.”
“Oh, hell!” Kelly said.
“Don’t worry,” Enrique said, “we’ll be out of here well before they can get to us.”
“No!” Kelly said, “the freighter’s gone!”
Dodds looked all around himself, seeking to disprove her. Unfortunately, she was right. The only visible vessel was one bearing the Imperial Coat of Arms, latched onto the side of the port, likely being how the soldiers had entered. Barely a minute after he thought the worst was over, Dodds felt stress starting to build again. They had all been relying on the freighter’s presence to help guide them back to the cloaked ATAFs. But with their point of reference gone, finding the invisible craft would now prove next to impossible.
“What do we do?” he asked desperately.
“We start looking!” Estelle answered. “Spread out and sweep the area!”
Dodds saw the other three look around hesitantly, before they started off in random directions, attempting to do the impossible and find that which wasn’t meant to be found. Dodds considered the situation. From the look of it, Arlos starport was in a geosynchronous orbit with the planet below. That would make things a little easier, but not by much. He turned back to the starport and tried to trace an imaginary line from the airlock, to where the freighter had once been. He then thrust over into the general area, looking around for anything that might give away the location of the hidden starfighters.
There had to be something, he thought as he flew around, moving from one possible location to another. There had to be something that would give them away. He remembered that the cloak worked by twisting and bending light waves. If he could somehow align himself with the local star or the glow from Arlos’ atmosphere, then he might just spot a visual distortion.
He must’ve only applied the technique for less than a minute, before giving up. He was certain that he was in the right place, but the frustration was already building. He longed to be able to simply shut off the cloaks, as if switching on a light in a darkened room, and find where the craft really were. He looked around to his team-mates, who he could tell were floundering as much with the task as he was. By now, he’d have hoped that one of them would’ve bumped into the craft by accident.
“Anyone having any luck?” he asked. “Because I’m running out of ideas over here!”
“You’re too far out,” Enrique said. “I swear that we were more over th—”
“Anyone having any luck? Because I’m running out of ideas over here!”
Great, Dodds thought, as Enrique’s words were drowned out. As if things weren’t bad enough. “Enrique, can you repeat that?” he said, tapping at the side of his helmet. “I think my comms are glitching up. I’m starting to get that echo again.”
“I said that I think you’re too far out! You need to be move over—”
Enrique’s words were once again lost, as Dodds’ own repeated themselves in his earpiece. Damn that stupid glitch! He’d just have to continue as he had been. He remembered the last time that that had happened, after he had just disembarked from his ATAF. It had fixed itself a little later on, as he had approached the starport …
He brought himself to a stop.
No. Not as he had approached the starport … as he had moved away from the ATAF! It was here, right next to him!
“Hey!” he called.
His team-mates answered him. He hushed them instantly, listening out for the echo. It came. He moved and called out again. This time, the echo came back sooner. He repeated the technique a few more times, timing the responses.
“Dodds, what are you doing?” Estelle asked.
“The echoes I’ve been hearing,” he said, “it’s not a glitch in my comms – it’s my transmission reflecting back at me! It must somehow be echoing off the live systems of my ATAF!”
He continued calling out and responding accordingly, when someone appeared at his side. It was Chaz. He had a gun in his hand.
“You think you know where it is?” Chaz said.
“Somewhere around here,” Dodds said, indicating the general area he had investigated. “But I haven’t managed to narrow it down any further.”
Chaz raised the plasma pistol, aimed and then fired. The little green bolt sailed unhindered into space. Chaz swore and instructed Dodds to try to thin down the location further, before attempting again. He fired several bolts this time, though they proved just as unsuccessful as the first. Another adjustment, and Chaz fired again. He looked as though he was having difficulty operating the pistol. Either it was already starting to become unusable in the cold, or he was having trouble squeezing the trigger. He examined the gun and then shook it, as if trying to coax it into action. Dodds could see that the digital display on the side had corrupted.
“This thing is going to permanently freeze up at any moment,” Chaz said. “Let’s hope we get lucky.�
�
He aimed. Fired …
… and got lucky.
The bolt found its mark and, just as Parks had warned, the unmistakeable form of an ATAF lit up as the shielding reacted. The effect was as though someone had thrown luminous blue paint all over it. There it remained but for a scant few seconds, before it began to fade from view.
“Hurry!” Chaz said, pointing to the withering cyan ripples outlining the fighter. “This thing is dead!” he added, waving the pistol.
Dodds sped over to where the ATAF was disappearing from view and made to push himself through the starfighter’s shielding. His eagerness caused his first attempt to be repelled, the arm he attempted to force through being shoved backwards. It was almost like trying to push two magnets together, though considerably more forceful. He glanced uneasily at the Imperial shuttle that was still latched onto the side of the port, aware that it could detach itself and start after them at any moment. He was surprised it had taken them this long already.
He guessed that the soldiers …
What was it that that man had called them? Pandora…? Pandoran?
… had encountered refugees that had escaped their attention the first time and wanted to finish the job before giving chase, even if the airlock escapees were a greater threat.
He steeled himself and, recalling his training and what Parks had said about easing himself past the barriers, he began pushing himself through. He was soon settled back into the cockpit, and stabbed avidly at the buttons and controls in front of him, bringing the fighter’s other major systems online. With his radar active, he discovered the locations of the other fighters, just in front and behind him, and adopting Chaz’s proven technique, he shot each with one blast of his cannons, allowing his team-mates to find their own way in.
“Everyone ready?” Estelle said. There was a resounding confirmation from all, and, as one, the Knights turned their veiled fighters around and sped away from the starport.
The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy) Page 39