Bagwis and Kaito looked confused when the door closed.
“When are you going to do something?” demanded Kaito. After a pause, she guessed. “When you go to use the facilities?”
“Me? I don’t have to go,” Warlock replied. “But Bagwis has a stomach flu and he needs to go again.”
“I do?” asked the warehouse manager. Seeing a scowl on Kaito’s face, he rethought it and nodded. “I get it. I go again.”
Bagwis stood beside the door waiting for Ryo to return. The lock rattled and the door opened. The warehouse manager reached the threshold and retired Master Sergeant Alberich moved.
Warlock placed a hand on the top of the door, swung her left leg and kicked Bagwis through the opening. Ryo tumbled back as he and Bagwis collided with the two guards. One went down under Ryo and Bagwis. The other, off balance, shuffled back trying to bring his rifle up.
Slapping her other hand on the top of the door, the Striker lifted her weight, pulled forward and vaulted the three bodies on the deck. Both boots slammed into the off balanced guard’s chest, driving him back. His body went limp after his head hit the bulkhead on the other side of the hallway. Warlock used the spring from his body to flip back across the hall. Snatching up a rifle, she came to one knee and shot a guard standing at the end of the passageway.
Seeing their companion fall to the deck, the final two jumped to the sides and used the corridor wall as protection. They looked at each other trying to think of their next move. One pointed his rifle and the other acknowledged that they would both turn the corner and fire down the hallway. The first to pivot around the corner caught a glimpse of a buttstock before it smashed in his face.
From shoulder height, Warlock transitioned from delivering the horizontal butt stroke to firing at the other one. The first kinetic round missed the guard but it forced him to flinch. In the millisecond it took him to recover, the next two rounds tore through his nose and cheek.
Warlock grabbed their rifles and slid them down the hallway to Ryo, Bagwis and Kaito.
“That hurt,” Bagwis complained as he picked up the rifle and groaned as he rubbed his back. “You could have warned me.”
“Where would the surprise be in that?” inquired Warlock as she walked down the corridor heading towards the passageway to Kaito’s barricade. “Better hurry. I expect, they’ll be coming soon.”
The four hugged the wall and moved quickly. When the crates came into view, Warlock jogged the rest of the way until she was able to leap the barrier.
“Hold your territory and make them come to you with an offer,” she explained while assisting Ryo and Bagwis over the crates. Kaito shook off the offered hand and climbed over on her own.
“Can we depend on you and the rifle?” inquired Kaito.
“My business is elsewhere,” Warlock explained. “Who can help me get to a warehouse on the other side of the base?”
***
The enclosed four seat cart bounced over a rut and floated at the top of its suspensions. Behind the vehicle, sections of burned and discarded hulls lay scattered across the moonscape.
“We race these during down times. I won the salvage base championship twice now,” Kaito explained from the driver seat. Her voice came into Diosa’s headset through a cable plugged into the dash. “You can get some big air in the low gravity.”
She drove across an open area then steered around another derelict hull as they entered a new patch of spaceship scraps. They had already skirted the outer edges of two other discard fields. When the vehicle reached the center of this one, Kaito turned and began weaving through the low value alloy. After navigating around the junk, they entered an area with mostly intact space vessels.
“I’ll get you as close to the warehouse as I can,” Kaito instructed. “They have a light crew in the harvesting field and you should be able to reach it unseen.”
She stopped beside the towering hull of a grounded clipper ship. In space, it was difficult to perceive scale as you walked corridors and climbed ramps. But on the surface of Salvage Moon, the hull was the size of a skyscraper laying on its side.
Warlock unplugged, opened the door and stepped onto the dust, dirt, rocks and sand. Kaito wheeled the cart around and it soon disappeared behind the clipper. Strolling with measured steps to prevent lifting off the ground and drawing attention to herself, the retired Marine headed for the air curtains in the distance.
***
Warlock shoved aside an edge of the first industrial air curtain. At the second air curtain, she used a hand to peer inside the warehouse. Other than rows of parts on shelving, the storage area and workshops were deserted. Even the corridor of the first ring located far down a long center aisle had no workers. Pushing through the curtain, she jogged across the truck turning space and into a changing room.
Once she’d stripped out of the vacuum suit, Warlock dressed in a worker’s uniform with a cap. Back in the warehouse, she walked to the end of a row and strolled towards the opening. She didn’t see another worker or another human until she passed through the entrance and started down the corridor.
“You. Get in with the rest,” a man walking out of a doorway directed. He seemed surprised to find someone in the corridor. Pointing to the hallway behind him, the man insisted. “Hurry up. Captain Ritva wants to speak with you.”
“With me?” asked Diosa in her meekest voice.
“With your entire crew,” he corrected. “Hurry up.”
Diosa shuffled towards the man, being sure to slouch. Usually she marched and held her torso erect which would be a tip off to her former occupation. He didn’t step aside or unsling his rifle to target her. Diosa had to step around him to reach the doorway while he glared down his nose at her. Unknown to the man, he came very close to having Master Sergeant Alberich correct his attitude. But she had a mission and it wasn’t the time to be fighting in the corridor.
After looking into empty rooms, Diosa finally located the assembled workers. Twenty-five men and women sat in a meeting room. They were talking in groups and no one paid attention as Warlock eased in and took a seat in the back.
“What do you suppose the Captain wants now?” grumbled a mechanic sitting in front of Diosa.
“Probably wants to remind us,” a woman next to him whispered.
“As if we’d forget,” replied the salvage mechanic.
Diosa leaned forward hoping to hear more but everyone fell silent when a man strutted into the room. Although he wore worker’s clothing, his bearing and the proud tilt of his chin showed he was more than a common salvage crew member.
“I wanted to alert you that a warship is arriving in several hours,” the man boomed. “You will supply whatever the ship needs in a timely fashion. You will assist in the repairs and assure the ship is ready to return to the fight without delay. From the reports I’ve received, the ship requires ion cannon parts and battle plating. But that’s just preliminary so plan for contingencies. Now go do an inventory and pull the necessary parts. The Empress is coming and all her subjects will reap the rewards. And remember, the Empress loves you.”
He marched out of the room leaving a few of the salvage workers with their hands in the air.
“It would be nice if we had some specifications,” a man said lowering his arm.
“What would the Captain know about specifications or fitting a ship,” another sneered. “All he knows is how to threaten children.”
“I’d like to introduce him to the nomenclature of my cutting torch,” a woman announced. “The hot tip should do nicely.”
“You’re not alone,” a big man in the front row stated. He stood and faced the room. “As distasteful as it might be, we are a salvage and repair base. Let’s go over our inventory and pull what we have. And check the other warehouses for anything you think we might need.”
The workers all stood and began shuffling out of the room. Warlock moved quickly to the door then stepped aside letting others exit. When the woman who made the cutting torch rema
rk reached the doorway, Warlock grabbed her arm.
“Spare me a minute?” she inquired while guiding the woman off to the side.
“I don’t know you. If you’re one of Captain Ritva’s crew and have a problem with my statement,” the woman said defiantly. “Remind him, I am the best fabricator and fitter on this or any other repair base. You want to punish me? Fine. But your precious warship will suffer more than I will.”
“Not what I wanted to talk about,” Diosa advised the salvage worker. “Ryo sent me to find out what’s going on here.”
“Ha. You can’t get me on the torch remark. Are you trying to get me to incriminate myself?” the shipwright accused Warlock. “Go tell Captain Ritva I’ll do my job.”
“I don’t know the Captain. This is the first time I laid eyes on him. I’m here looking for answers. Help me understand,” Warlock pleaded. “Kaito risked her life to drive me around the harvest fields. The least you can do is bring me up to speed on the situation.”
“Kaito? What did she say about the drive over?” the fabricator asked.
Warlock had to think about the conversations she and the warehouse manager had in the cart.
“That you can get some big air in the low gravity,” ventured Warlock. “Oh, and she won the salvage base championship twice.”
“Ha. Only because she’s reckless,” the fabricator exclaimed while extending her hand. “Name’s Candela.”
“Diosa Alberich,” replied Warlock. “Ryo, Kaito and Bagwis can’t figure out why Pablo Luz and his warehouse crews sided with the Constabulary over the Galactic Council Realm.”
“Most of us didn’t. We voted for neutrality,” Candela informed Diosa. “Then twelve men arrived with Captain Ritva and decided for us.”
Before Warlock could ask why, a man stepped into the room. He also had his rifle slung over his shoulder as if the salvage crews posed no threat.
“Clear the room and get to work,” he ordered.
“Just having a planning session with my apprentice,” Candela said as she took Warlock by the arm and guided her towards the exit while explaining. “Be sure we have the profiling system calibrated. Battle plating is denser than merchant plating. Our cuts need to be precise.”
“Yes ma’am,” Diosa acknowledged.
Candela and Diosa left the meeting room and strolled down the hallway. When they reached the ring corridor, the fabricator tapped her lips with a finger preventing further conversation. It wasn’t until they were between shelves in the warehouse that Warlock asked about the reason for their cooperation with the Constabulary.
“A day after we voted down Pablo’s suggestion, Captain Ritva placed one of his men on the school deck,” Candela explained. “According to him, it was for the protection of the base’s children. But we got the message. Go along or bad things would happen to the little ones.”
“How many children?” inquired Warlock.
“Ten,” Candela replied. “All the parents work on this side of the base. It’s why Ryo didn’t know.”
“And nobody told Ryo or his crews?” asked Warlock.
“Captain Ritva sealed the interior passageways and has men placed on the ring to prevent communications,” Candela explained. “Plus, once he took control of our communications center, he switched frequencies. With half the base under his command, and Iska Maricor and Pablo Luz under arrest, the Captain is the boss.”
“But only for half of the salvage base. It’s as if he wanted to intentionally divide the workers,” observed Warlock.
“I don’t know about that but we need to pull plating,” Candela said as she moved to the controls of an overhead crane. One of the Captain’s men walked by eyeing the two women. “We have sections of battle plates to cut. Attach the hooks. We’ll extract them one at a time and move them to the fabrication area.”
“How do you get the pieces into orbit?” inquired Warlock as she guided the hooks to a thick piece of ships plating.
“We have several modified shuttles,” Candela said as the first plate lifted. “This one has damage but we’ll take it and use sections to repair smaller areas.”
“Where did the battle plating come from?” asked Warlock as a huge piece rose from the pile. When the crane hoisted it almost to the rails on the ceiling, the bottom was only a half meter off the deck. “I don’t recognize the shape.”
“These were cut from the bottom of patrol boats,” replied Candela. “It’s excellent battle plating.”
“But you’re going to use it to repair a Constabulary warship,” challenged Warlock.
“As long as the Ritva has the children,” confirmed Candela. “We are and we’ll do anything else he asks of us.”
“Suppose he didn’t have the children,” ventured Warlock. “Could I get support from your crew?”
“Ha. We’ve defended our independence from pirates, corporations and the Galactic Council,” Candela responded. “The Empress is just another master looking to control us. In short, yes.”
Chapter – 15 School’s Out for the Revolt
The five room sized plates hung as if frozen fabric on a clothing line. Candela lowered the damaged one to a cutting frame.
“What’s the best way for me to reach the school without drawing suspicion?” inquired Warlock.
“The medical clinic is just down the hall from the school. Doc Marikit can get you into the classroom,” the fabricator said as she swung a cutting machine over the alloy surface. “She delivered all the children and checks on them regularly.”
“How do I get to the clinic?” inquired Diosa.
“Put your hands here and hold the handle,” directed Candela placing Diosa’s hands on the cutting tool. Then she walked to a trash receptacle, reached in and pulled something out.
Diosa couldn’t see the object.
“Scream,” instructed the fabricator. As Diosa cried out, Candela removed the Striker’s hand from the tool, swung the cutter out of the way and wrapped a dried and bloody rag around Diosa’s hand. It was stained and incrusted with red flakes. When Candela poured water over the rag, it began dripping watery drops of blood. “Next time be more careful. You’re no good to me bleeding all over the deck. Get to the clinic.”
“Yes ma’am,” Diosa responded while cupping the bandage in her other hand.
The three guards walking the warehouse laughed as the woman, obviously in pain, fled from the fabrication area and headed for the corridor. At the hallway with an arrow pointing to the medical clinic, another guard shook his head as if thinking better you than me.
As she entered the hallway, Warlock observed a fourth guard sitting at the far end next to an airlock hatch. There was no reason for a hatch other than it was solid with a wheel lock and most likely part of an old spaceship. During the straight walk down the hall and through three intersecting ring corridors, the guard never looked in her direction. He was studying something on his PID. Warlock made a mental note of his inattention as she pushed through the doors of the clinic.
“We may need to bring down wounded,” Captain Ritva was saying as Diosa entered. Seeing the bloody bandage, he finished quickly. “Just be ready, Doctor Marikit.”
He passed Diosa without acknowledging her and vanished through the doors.
“What happened?” Marikit inquired as she stepped from behind her desk.
“I got in the way of a plate cutting tool,” Diosa reported.
“I don’t think so. The hand is still attached,” Doctor Marikit observed as she motioned for Diosa to follow her into a treatment room. “Get on the table and tell me the truth. If you’re just trying to get out of work, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
After pulling on a pair of latex gloves, the doctor began unwrapping the rag.
“We need to get the children to Ryo’s side of the base,” Diosa exclaimed. The announcement caused the doctor to stop. An unfolded piece of rag held between her fingers dripped blood on the treatment table.
“And how are we supposed to do that?” she
asked. Then added a warning. “I will not put the children in danger.”
“If we allow the Constabulary to take over the base, they will start by changing the environment,” Diosa explained. “From research and my experience, they will lower the oxygen level, increase humidity, and flood the air with ketone and carbon dioxide.”
“That’s troubling,” Doctor Marikit stated. “The elderly and the young will suffer from oxygen deprivation. Even some healthy adults will be susceptible. Why would they do that?”
“I’m a simple Marine, ma’am, and that’s above my pay grade,” admitted Diosa. “But I do know, from reports, the environment produces a fifty percent death rate in Realm citizens. Mostly, as you said, among the young.”
“I wasn’t thinking in terms of fatalities. I was more concerned with brain damage from the low oxygen,” Marikit said. “Even if we wanted to move the children to a more secure location, the Captain has armed men stationed in the classroom and at the end of the hallway.”
“As I explained, I’m a simple Marine. And this situation, ma’am, is exactly at my pay grade,” Warlock assured her. “But I need some camouflage.”
“You want me to paint stripes on your face like an action star?” inquired the puzzled doctor. “I’ve seen video commandos do that.”
“No ma’am. A half cast and a sling big enough to hide this,” explained Warlock as she tugged the telescoping baton from her pocket. “And a plastic pill bottle with a few large pills in it. Then you escort me to the classroom and point out the most precocious child.”
“As long as you promise not to start shooting around the children,” Marikit said as she peeled the wet rag off Warlock’s perfectly good hand.
***
“What’s this?” demanded the guard in the classroom. He was sitting on the front edge of the teacher’s desk with a rifle and a pistol lying beside him.
Doctor Marikit held the door for an injured woman. A wide cast covered her hand and wrist and her arm was supported by a sling. The woman appeared weak and a little confused. To reinforce the dazed state of the woman, Marikit placed a hand on the woman’s good arm and guided her to a chair in the center of the room.
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