by R. A. Nargi
“Guess I was wrong about them not wanting to blow this place up,” the Sean bot said. “Do you see any more charges?”
“No, not in the immediate vicinity. But there were two legionnaires.”
“Yes, they were both probably planting explosives. Even if those are high-yield bombs, it would take a few dozen to destroy the Fountain.”
“We need to get out of here,” I said.
“I need a little more time,” the Sean bot said. “I’ve got the Levirion partially charged.”
“What? Are you serious?” Deep down I had grave doubts about that weird pyramid thing, and never thought my dad could actually activate it.
“Completely,” the Sean bot said. “But I have to get back to it.”
There was silence on the comms for a few moments.
I climbed back up on the cooling unit and looked around the chamber, seeing if I could pick out any more bombs. My gaze went up to the hole in the hull and suddenly an idea came to me.
“I can get the ship!” I said excitedly.
I jumped down and ran towards the outer hull.
“What are you talking about?” Ana-Zhi asked.
I powered up my magtouch. “I think I figured out a shortcut back to the ship. Everyone get back up to the cooling chamber. Wait at the big hole in the hull.”
The ready indicator on my visor display lit up and I engaged the suit’s repulsors and leapt up at the breach hole a half dozen meters up on the wall. With a satisfying thunk my gloves and boots connected with the wall. I crawled out and perched on the outer hull to catch my breath. In front of me a tapestry of thousands of unfamiliar stars glowed against the inky darkness of space.
I did a quick calibration on the boots, so I’d be able to move freely, then raced off, moving as fast as I could along the outer surface of the station’s central spire.
After a few minutes, I started to cut diagonally up, and that was when I caught a glimpse of the Mayir jumpship, hovering near another two-meter diameter hole in the hull.
I flattened myself behind a protruding sensor array. I knew I couldn’t allow them to see me.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips. It appeared as though the Mayir were still setting charges on the top levels of the station. If I could get to the ship quickly enough, it might mean we had a chance.
I redoubled my efforts, racing along the hull, but making sure that I kept out of the jumpship’s line of sight.
A hundred meters from the big mushroom shape of the hangar, the station flared out to nearly twice the diameter of the lower shaft. If I remembered correctly, that was where had found the dead Rhya. Knowing that every second counted, I did something stupid.
Instead of climbing out on the bottom of the flared section of the station, I disengaged the magtouch on my boots and leapt out into space, aiming for the outer edge of the protruding section of the station.
Unfortunately, I misjudged my trajectory. Panic welled up inside me as I flew past where I thought I’d be able to catch on to the hull.
No, no, no!
I whipped my head around frantically, searching for something to grab on to. Something large loomed up over my shoulder. It was the curved edge of the hangar.
I flailed and tried to get my magnetized gloves on it, but just missed.
Then I twisted again and felt my boot graze the hull surface. Immediately I slammed the magtouch on my boots to full, and tried to position the soles of my feet closer to the skin of the hull.
At first, it looked like it wasn’t going to work. My boots just bumped along the surface as I continued to drift. But then, miraculously, I began to slow.
I had to force myself to relax and let my body go limp, so that I wouldn’t accidentally lose the magnetic connection with the hull.
My boots finally made solid contact, and I arched down so my gloves, kneepads, and boots all locked onto the hull’s surface. I felt like I was going to vomit in my suit, so I just sat there, trying to calm myself.
That was close. Too fucking close. And I was really stupid for taking the chance I did.
But I couldn’t dwell on it. This whole station could blow any minute. I had to get to the ship.
Fortunately, I was close. I pulled myself together and set off, running along the curved outer surface of the mushroom-shaped solar collector. All I had to do now was find an entrance.
I paused for a second to check the schematics. It looked like there was a hangar port a hundred and fifty meters away, but opposite of where I stood.
After checking that I wasn’t running right towards the Mayir jumpship, I set off.
I found the opening easily enough. It was an impressive-looking archway framed by massive girders. Although narrower than the hangar tunnel we arrived in, this port seemed plenty big enough to fly the Vostok through. It was also lower down on the dome, so the tunnel itself was only twenty-five meters long. That was a relief.
The Vostok was right where we had left it, and it didn’t appear to be tampered with. I entered through the open lower hold doors and then hit the switch to cycle atmosphere in the airlock.
Once inside, I raced up to the bridge, acutely aware that we were running out of time. While I powered up the interval engines and disengaged the mooring arm, I hailed Ana-Zhi, silently praying that the Mayir weren’t monitoring this channel.
“You guys ready? I’m coming to get you.”
Her voice crackled in my ear. “The three of us are in position, but your father is still fiddling with that thing down in the reactor.”
“I’m not fiddling!” came the Sean bot’s voice.
I keyed the thrusters and concentrated on not hitting anything.
“Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop. I’ll be there in less than two minutes. Unless the Mayir are waiting for me right outside.”
Just to be safe, I activated the point defense system and switched offensive targeting to auto/voice. It wasn’t ideal, but then again, a Lamprey-class Scout wasn’t intended to be flown by one person. Especially one person who barely knew what he was doing.
I tried to force my quivering arm to steady itself as I gripped the steering sticks on the console, and aimed the Vostok towards the exit tunnel. I could have sworn the tunnel looked a lot bigger when I was walking through it. Now as I entered the tunnel, it felt like I had less than a dozen meters clearance on the sides.
That reminded me. I needed to get the prox plates charged. They wouldn’t protect me from an exploding station, but they might buy me a little time if the jumpship got ornery. Without taking my eyes from the main viewport, I reached over and activated the defense startup sequence.
Then, all of a sudden, I was clear of the hangar tunnel, with open space all around me.
The only problem was a pair of crimson stingray attack fighters, advancing right towards me.
They weren’t expecting a craft to emerge from the station, so that element of surprise bought me maybe three seconds—which I used to verbally engage the Vostok’s weapons systems.
“Fire on the closest ships!”
The AI on a typical weapons system follows a modified OODA loop: observe, orient, decide, act. The AI would track moving objects, decide which were ships, decide which were closest, try to identify the targets’ hull profile, choose a weapon based on that profile (as well as the distance/velocity of the targets), and then fire that weapon. All that in the span of milliseconds.
In practical terms that meant blasting the hell out of the stingrays with our ion lances.
I watched as the streams of blue energy bolts pulsed out, strafing the compact fighters. Wild explosions of energy erupted on the stingrays’ wings and fuselages where the bolts hit—knocking out the fighters’ guidance systems. One careened into space, out of control. The other wasn’t as lucky. It slammed into the station’s hull, exploding into a ball of fire.
I steered the Vostok away from the wreckage, knowing full well that the Baeder would be coming for me.
“Dad, are you at th
e rendezvous point?”
“Not yet,” the Sean bot said.
“Well, get up there, old man! I just took out two stingrays and any second the Baeder is going to be on me.”
“None of that matters unless I can get this thing to work, so do your damn best, son!”
My jaw clenched and I slammed my fist against the side of the pilot’s chair. He was so pig-headed!
I did a quick scan of the area, and discovered that, besides the jumpship, the only other craft in the vicinity was the Baeder. It was parked about a kilometer and a half away from the station, and it wasn’t moving. Yet. The angle between us was such that the station’s big solar collector dome blocked direct line-of-sight between the Mayir carrier and me, but that would change as I flew down towards the lower section of the control station. And I had no illusions. If I could scan the Baeder, it could scan me.
I didn’t have to wait long. A few moments later, I was being hailed.
“Come in, Vostok. This is Field Marshall Molda Prundt of the MCP.”
Oh great.
My finger hesitated over the broadcast button. What was I doing? Did I really think I could convince them not to blast us into oblivion?
Then it hit me.
All I needed to do was stall while I moved the Vostok into position to pick up the team.
I keyed the comm. “What do you want, Prundt?”
“With whom am I speaking?”
“Jannigan Beck. I bet that’s a name you won’t be forgetting any time soon.”
“Indeed, Mr. Beck. You continue to surprise me: escaping from our detention center, stealing our ship, destroying our fighters. And, if reports are to be believed, somehow acquiring a combat bot along the way.”
“What can I say, Prundt? When you’ve got it, you’ve got it.”
“Perhaps, Beck.”
“Oh, and you forgot the two fighters I just took out. Do you have any left?” I goaded him.
“You may yet find that out for yourself.”
“Bring it on.”
“Or I may just detonate the bombs we’ve planted on the alien station. The resulting explosion will turn you and your friends into space dust.”
I had been keeping an eye on the jumpship. It was still moored near the top of the station’s central shaft.
“I don’t think so, Prundt. You’ve still got men dicking around down here.”
“Yes, but I have one thousand and ninety-two other men onboard here. You do the math.”
That sicko was prepared to torch his own men!
“Do what you have to do,” I said. “You don’t scare me.”
There was a brief silence and then he said, “I don’t believe I do.”
I had arrived at the lower section of the station with the gaping breaching hole.
“Well, I’m glad we had this little chat, Prundt, but—”
“Tell me, Mr. Beck, what are your intentions?”
“My intentions? What do you mean?”
As I spoke, I cycled through the video feeds from the Vostok’s hull cameras until I got a lock on the gaping hole in the station’s hull. Then I zoomed in until I saw a figure waiting on the edge of the hole.
“I mean, what do you think you’re even doing here in this system? Do you really think you will somehow activate the Fountain and escape us?”
“Now that you mention it, that doesn’t sound half bad,” I said.
When he laughed, it was a high, girlish sound that completely creeped me out. “I’m completely serious, Mr. Beck. What is it that you want?”
I quickly tapped out an Aura-to-Aura message to Ana-Zhi: AM PARLEYING WITH MAYIR. OPENING STERN BAY DOORS. Then I leaned over and began flipping through control screens until I found the controls for the lower aft doors.
“What do I want?” I said to Molda Prundt. “Let’s start with you backing that monstrosity of a ship away from here. It’s so ugly I am actually feeling queasy having to look at it.”
“Surely you have greater aspirations than being a space traffic controller.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, speak up, Mr. Beck. Tell me of your desires. Wealth? A prestigious rank? Or perhaps the fine food, drink, and the, uh, intimate company that you no doubt miss, being so far away from New Torino.”
I bristled at the realization that he knew where I lived. They probably pulled a data profile on me.
“You got me pegged, Prundt. I’d say yes to all of the above. With a side order of vengeance, I have to admit. Since we’re in a sharing mood.”
My Aura pulsed with a message alert. WE’RE IN.
Thank Dynark.
“Vengeance, Mr. Beck? Against whom?”
I tapped back: ALL?
“Against the people who fucked with me, of course. Some I killed already. Yates. Obarral. But right now, I’m thinking of Agon Qualt.”
“Qualt? You captured him and let him go.”
“Yes, a momentary lapse on my part. I thought it was dishonorable to shoot him in his cell, so we marooned him. My bad.”
Molda Prundt laughed his unsettling laugh again. “What if I were to offer you up Mr. Qualt on a silver platter.”
“For—?”
“I’m not finished, Mr. Beck. What if I were to offer you Qualt plus a sizable finder’s fee for locating the Kryrk?”
“Finder’s fee, huh? How much are we talking?”
“In all honesty, much more than you’ve ever seen in your life, Mr. Beck.”
Where the hell was the team? I needed to make sure that they were all on board. That meant I had to stall for a little longer.
“You do know that I am the heir to Beck Salvage, don’t you? Money’s not really much of a concern to me.”
“So you’d be willing to accept just Qualt in trade?”
“For what?”
“For the Vostok, of course. And her contents. It is our ship, after all.”
“Actually, possession is nine tenths of the law,” I said.
“Not our law.”
“Besides, your men destroyed our original ship. That means—”
“I must interject that they did so in defiance of our standing orders. If you were familiar with our doctrines, you would know that we have no quarrel with other humans. It is the aliens who are the scourge of our galaxy.”
“Let’s just agree to disagree about that,” I said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people coming down the hallway. Finally.
“So, Mr. Beck. Do we have a deal?”
Chiraine waved at me, followed by Narcissa and Ana-Zhi.
No sign of the Sean bot.
Shit.
“Break it down for me one more time, Prundt. You want to trade me Qualt for the Vostok?”
I broke the transmission so I could talk to the women. “Where the hell is my dad?”
“He said he needs more time,” Chiraine said. “Who are you talking to?”
“We don’t have more time!”
Molda Prundt’s voice interrupted us. “Yes, Mr. Beck. Surrender the Vostok and Qualt will be yours to do with as you wish.”
I clicked the transmission back on. “Uh, it’s been a long day. Can I have a little more time to consider this?”
“Of course. How does five minutes sound?”
“I was thinking more like overnight.”
“You’ve got five minutes.” He cut the comm and so did I.
“We’re dead, aren’t we?” I slumped back in my seat.
“I don’t know, kid,” Ana-Zhi said. “Your dad is pretty obsessive.”
“Tell me about it.” I accessed the comm unit on my Aura and established a link to the Sean bot.
“What are you doing?” I asked. It was tough to keep the petulant tone out of my voice.
“Trying to get this damn thing to work,” he said. “Is everyone back on board?”
“Yeah, everyone but you. By the way, Molda Prundt offered us a deal. We surrender the Vostok and he gives us Qualt.”
“Wha
t? That’s a horrible deal.”
“I wasn’t serious. I was trying to stall him.”
“Did it work?”
“Not really.”
“Then he’s going to try to board you. He wants what’s in those crates.”
“I know.”
“We can’t let him get any of those artifacts.”
“I know.”
“Jannigan?”
“Yeah?”
“Just do what you think is right.” He paused and then said, “I trust you.”
Then he broke the comm.
My heart sank. What was I going to do now?
To his credit, Molda Prundt ended up giving me about seven minutes before he hailed us again. A generous guy.
“Well, Mr. Beck? I have a shuttle standing by. Do we have a deal?”
“You know, Prundt, I thought about your offer. I really did. On the surface it seems fair. I get my revenge. You get your ship back—packed with crates of goodies, on top of it. But then I was thinking: a late-model Barnes LV-900 Lamprey-class Scout—in great condition, by the way—has got to be worth more than one middle-aged asshole and some janky little shuttlecraft, hasn’t it?”
“My shuttle wasn’t actually part of the deal.”
“Even more to my point. The fact is, I need a ship. My crew needs a ship. So here’s my counter-proposal. A straight-up trade. You want the Vostok? You give me the Baeder.”
I had to quickly cut the microphone on our end because Chiraine burst out laughing.
Molda Prundt was silent for a few moments. Probably gnashing his teeth or something.
I turned the mic back on. “You there, Prundt?”
“Perhaps I just deploy a few squadrons of my legionnaires and take the ship by force?”
“You can try. But we’re not going to just be sitting around waiting for you.”
He laughed creepily. “Where do you think you can go, Mr. Beck? Despite your efforts, the Fountain remains closed. And I have the power to—”
I abruptly broke the comm.
“Boring conversation, anyway,” I said.
“What do we do?” Narcissa asked.
“He’s right,” Ana-Zhi said. “He could knock out our weapons systems with few well-placed bursts from their hyper-Vs, then send in some troops with a few breachers and open us up like a can of sardines.”