by Kal Spriggs
“Besides that, they’ve got excellent security systems aboard the Liberation, and the crew outnumbers us four times over.” Bob said. “I’ve got codes that might convince the Fenris that we’re the good guys.”
“Not if they’re the same codes we used.” Stasia said.
“Either way, let’s go!” Mel snapped. “My brother’s only got so long before they don’t need him any more. And he’s not likely to do what they tell him, not with our family history.”
Bob nodded. He stepped out of the hatch and gestured for them to follow. They moved down the tight corridors, watchful for any sign of the crew. As they moved, Mel noticed more and more battered features of the ship. She ignored most of them, until she saw an environmental sensor held to the wall with baling wire. “Haven’t you people ever heard of basic maintenance?”
Bob looked back at her, “Uh, look, GFN can’t just drop in on a place and get a ship repaired, you know.”
Mel just grunted. She hated to see a ship, any ship, so mistreated.
Not long later they came to where Giles stood. The overweight man had stuffed himself into an environmental suit. He looked nervously back and forth. “Oh, there you are! Thank God, I thought we were all dead!” the fat man sobbed. His fat rolls jiggled obscenely inside his suit.
“Who’s he?” Marcus asked suspiciously.
Bob shrugged, “A pirate who had a change of heart.”
“I was never a pirate,” the man whined, “I—”
“Let’s go.” Mel said, stepping around him and moving towards the open airlock behind him. She could see the umbilical that joined the other ship.
“There’s no guard?” Marcus asked. He looked around suspiciously. Mel could see that sweat beaded his forehead. Great, she thought, he's probably going to start hallucinating and shooting at invisible monsters here soon.
“I arranged for the Colonel to post Giles and myself for this shift,” Bob said, following Mel. “It should be four hours or so before anyone else notices.”
“What if the boarding party sends someone back here?” Strak asked.
“Then we’d better be elsewhere.” Bob said. “Look, would you rather be back in that cargo hold?” Mel could hear a tone of irritation in his voice, but she wondered, suddenly if this were some sort of trap. I don't care, she thought, this is my chance to make things right, to rescue my brother and to stop the Fenris.
Marcus frowned, “Honestly, I’m thinking about it.” He massaged his forehead. “Slow down, Mel, we don’t want to run into anyone.”
Mel reached the umbilical and shoved off. She felt the ship’s internal gravity cut off. For a long moment, she soared, weightless. Despite the situation, she felt a surge of exhilaration as she drifted across the gap to the far hatch. The armor around the hatch was pitted, but the metal of the airlock itself was new.
Mel landed lightly on her feet inside the open airlock of the warship. She cleared out of the way, and moved deeper inside. As the others gathered, Mel stared down the corridors of the warship.
Piping and power conduits lined the overhead, deck and walls. A mesh grating overlay the lines that ran on the deck. Simple lights spaced every five meters down the corridor. The unadorned metal surfaces had no paint or protective coating, unlike most ships. The corridor had an angularity that spoke of a design for utility, Mel decided. Her parents’ ship, the Kip Thorne, was designed as a tramp freighter. It was designed as much as a home as a cargo carrier.
The Fenris’s only reason for existence was war.
Mel turned, to see the others had followed. Strak knelt, looking at the airlock repairs, “Pretty crude. Someone did that in a hurry.”
“Repairs?” Stasia asked.
“Airlock was damaged, probably in the fighting that damaged the warp drive.” Mel shrugged, “The ship has automated repair robots. On a warship, aesthetics are second to utility.”
Strak shrugged, “Those ‘bots did a good job, even if it’s crude.”
A gravelly voice spoke from the corridor, “I’m glad you approve.”
They all spun, but the corridor was empty. The dry gravelly voice spoke again: “I’m interested in you, now.”
Mel gulped, recognizing the voice, “It’s the ship, it’s Fenris.” She felt ice go down her spine as she realized that the computer could see every move they made, hear every word they said, and could think through their actions before they finished them.
“Clever,” the dry voice rasped. “Even when you think you’re not being watched, as in that other ship’s cargo hold, you stick to your story.”
“That’s because it’s true!” Mel snapped. She knew it was pointless to argue with a computer program, but she couldn't help it, it sounded like a person.
“Wait a minute, how were you watching us on that other ship?” Marcus asked.
“I hacked their computer and took over their security systems remotely.”
Mel opened her mouth in shock, “But that’s impossible—”
“Lady, I’m an AI that processes data in femtoseconds.” The gravelly voice sounded amused. “I can do whatever I want.”
“So then you know we’re telling the truth!” Mel said.
“No.” The voice corrected. “I know they were lying.”
The airlock door slammed shut behind them, cutting them off from the umbilical that connected the two ships. “I also know that ship is a pirate, and I know what to do about that.” Further down the corridor, a blast door slammed shut.
Mel felt the slightest surge beneath her feet. “It just engaged the in-system warp drive. We’re moving.”
Marcus scowled, “For us to feel that despite the warp shell—”
“We just pulled twenty four hundred gravities acceleration,” Fenris said, “I wasn’t sure the warp shell would screen it out completely. Congratulations... you survived.”
The group stared at each other.
“What are you doing?” Mel asked. She hated the weakness she heard in her tone, yet she felt powerless. What could she do against a computer that seemed to know everything?
Well, she thought, everything except that it’s following mission parameters that will kill millions.
“I’m eliminating a pirate.” A humming filled the corridor. Mel could feel the vibration in her bones.
“That’s the main weapons charging,” Strak said.
The discharge came with an audible crack. Marcus threw his hands to his head, and groaned.
“One less pirate,” Fenris said.
“Did you offer them the chance to surrender?” Mel asked. “Not all of them might—“
“Everyone aboard that ship got what they deserved,” Bob said.
Giles gulped, but the fat man then nodded quickly. Mel shivered. She imagined the few seconds of panic, the initial confusion, and then how the ship would come apart into vacuum.
“Why did you wait?” Strak said.
“Curiosity. I wanted to see what you’d do.” Fenris admitted. “Now, you and the remaining pirates will be kept until the authorities deal with you.”
“Thank you,” Mel said, “That’s just what we—“
Fenris’ gravelly voice interrupted her, “After, of course, the mission is completed. Security protocols demand that.”
“Aw, shit.” Mel sagged.
CHAPTER V
Time: 1000 Zulu, 13 June 291 G.D.
Location: Fenris, Igen System
A distant concussion caused them all to turn their attention to the hatch that led further into the ship. Marcus cocked his head, “The terrorists giving you trouble?”
Mel couldn't help a slight smile at the bite in his tone. So long as she wasn't the target of his humor, she could admit he could be amusing.
There was a moment of silence, then “They’re trying to escape. Internal Security Protocols are engaged.” The gravelly voice showed the slightest edge of irritation. Good programming, Mel thought, or maybe something more...
“What does that mean?” Giles asked, look
ing around nervously.
Another muffled explosion occurred. Marcus smiled, “It sounds like they’re giving this ship a headache.”
There were several minutes silence. Stasia looked around, “It would be possible…” She walked over to the closed blast door at the end of the corridor.
Mel followed her, “What?”
Stasia stared at the panel for a second. “I could hack the door,” she said quietly. “We could get out into the rest of the ship.”
Mel nodded, “I—”
“I can hear you.” Fenris’s voice spoke from above them. “And I can see you.”
“That’s easily fixed.” Mel said. She drew her pistol and fired into the sensor pod above them.
“If you attempt to escape, I will use deadly force.” Fenris grated.
“You’re about to kill a planet of people. Do you think I care?” Mel shouted. She waited for a response, but the ship didn't seem to have one for that. “Does that not compute?” she demanded to the silence.
“Mel, are you sure about this?” Marcus asked.
In the distance, muffled by the sealed door, they heard the rattle of gunfire. “Either we sit here and the ship goes to Vagyr and wipes out the planet. Or we sit here and it goes to Vagyr and gets blown apart by the defenses and we die, or we sit here, and the terrorists take control of the ship and they kill us. Or... we get out and stop the ship, kill the terrorists, and we go home happy.” Mel took a deep breath. She looked over at Stasia, “Now would be a good time to start hacking.”
The gunfire trickled off.
They stood in silence for a long while until Stasia grunted in satisfaction and the door whooshed open. “Done. The programing for the doors is separate from the main system, just tied in through commands. The other doors should go faster now that I know what I'm doing..”
Mel stalked forward. She didn’t look to see who followed. She didn’t care.
***
“I told you to stay put.” Fenris said with more than a little irritation. Mel would have found that amusing if she wasn't so angry herself.
“I’m not good at doing what I’m told,” Mel snapped.
“Maybe we should go back,” Giles spoke.
“Listen to the pirate.” The gravelly voice spoke. Mel found the next sensor pod on the wall, and smashed it with the butt of her pistol. “I won’t warn you again. My security protocols won’t allow you to modify my orders.”
“I don’t care what they allow.” Mel snapped. The others followed behind her, though she saw that Giles stood at the very rear of the group. They paused at the next closed door.
“You don’t want that door to open.” Fenris said. His tone almost had a note of caution, Mel realized. We must be getting somewhere he doesn't want us, she thought eagerly. Though, when she consulted her mental map of the ship, she couldn't think of what might be important in this area.
“How would you know what we—” Mel began, just as Stasia got the door open.
A group of terrorists stood on the far side, three of them about to emplace a breaching charge on the door Stasia had just opened. Behind them were ten or fifteen more.
“Aw, shit.” Mel said, staring at the terrorists.
They stared back. The two at the front had expressions of shock on their faces. One of the men behind them went for their weapons. Before Mel could so much as start to move, a huge pistol came over her right shoulder. An even larger revolver came over her left shoulder.
The two pistols fired as one. For a second, she thought her head had exploded.
“Shut the door, shut the door!” she shouted.
The terrorists scrambled, drawing weapons. The two guns over either shoulder fired again. Mel screamed incoherently and dropped down, hands clamped over her ears. The door slammed closed.
“I told you so.” Mel thought she detected amusement or satisfaction in the Fenris’ voice. She shook her head against the ringing in her ears. She just hoped it wasn't a product of ruptured eardrums.
“You okay, Mel?” Marcus asked and grabbed her shoulders.
“What?” Mel shouted. Her head throbbed and her ears rang. For a second, she saw double.
“Oh, god, don’t scare me like that!” He clamped her in a tight bear hug.
She patted his shoulder awkwardly. He released her after a moment.
“We have to move, they’ll be through that door as soon as they recover from the confusion,” Mel shouted. Her ears still rang. Bob reloaded his massive pistol. She noticed that each of the rounds was a massive cylinder, color-coded.
Mel thought for a moment, thinking back to the blueprints she’d studied. “This way!”
The others followed her hurried footsteps to another sealed blast door.
“This will take us into the service corridors!” Mel shouted. “There should be fewer sensors!”
Stasia opened the door. “I will close behind us.”
Mel led the way forward. Just as Stasia closed the door, they heard a sharp concussion. “Just in time,” Strak said. He looked at Bob, “You have any more weapons?”
The agent shook his head. “Just those two and this.”
Strak grunted. “Next time we run into them, let me try to snag one.”
“I need a datapad as well.” Stasia said. “I do more with that.”
“What?” Mel asked. She didn't see why a datapad was important, not just now.
Marcus laughed, “Supplies, we need supplies.”
“Oh.” Mel said. “There are store rooms ahead we can use.” She didn't know what kind of supplies the ship might have, but it was worth a look.
She began to lead the way, then paused. “Bob, what kind of weapon is that?”
“It’s a Magnum Research BFR twenty-five millimeter.” Bob said. She had to read his lips to make out his words over the ringing in her head.
“Twenty five millimeter?” Mel asked, rubbing her temples. “Isn’t that an anti-vehicle weapon?” She only vaguely remembered that part of her training at the Academy, but something about the rounds seemed familiar.
“It can be.” Bob shrugged, “Guard Marines use it standard in the GMAR.”
“They also wear powered armor, mate.” Strak said. “That pistol’s illegal for anyone but the Marines.” Mel could see the disapproval on the older man's face. Good, she thought, it speaks well of Bob that he disapproves.
Bob shrugged, “If some Marines show up, here I’ll gladly turn it over.”
Marcus snorted at that, Mel saw, as well he should. If they had some Marines in full body armor, they wouldn't be running from some terrorists.
Mel massaged her temples some more, “Take the lead, Bob. Two rights, then a… left, I think.”
“You think?” Bob asked, nervously. The tone of his voice made her headache throb. Okay, she thought as she rubbed her temples, maybe Strak was right to disapprove a little about the size of caliber.
“Sorry, I didn’t expect to have to memorize the ship’s schematics for boarding it while being pursued by terrorists.” Mel snapped. “Step it out, Bob.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He snapped to attention and gave a rigid salute.
They started to move down the corridor, taking turns smashing the sensor pods as they went. Behind them, Mel heard a rattle of gunfire over the ringing in her ears, muffled by the closed doors.
“I want to know what they’re shooting at.” Strak said. Mel saw him wince at what sounded like a distant scream. Mel had a dark suspicion she knew. She hoped she was wrong.
A door to Mel’s rear slid open. She spun as something low and lean darted through. Giles shouted and raised his pistol. Twin beams of light lanced away from the thing’s head toward him. Someone screamed. She raised her pistol, lined it up on the creature. It spun to face her and froze.
The metallic wolf stared at her for an eternity from over the sights of her pistol. She fired.
The bullets struck the head and chest, their impact knocking the compact robot back and leaving large dents as they
bounced off the metal skin. They whined and hummed like malignant wasps as they ricocheted away. She heard them clang off of the metal surfaces of the bulkheads and deck.
The robot fell to the deck motionless.
Mel turned at a gasp. Giles lay on his side, his fat chest heaved in panicked breaths. His right hand clutched over the inside of his thigh. Blood spurted between his fingers. A fine mist of it sprayed out to strike Mel on the face.
“Oh, God,” he said, “It won’t stop, it—”
Marcus rushed over. He pushed Mel aside. With gentle fingers Marcus pried Giles’ hands away, then dug his own fingers into the spurting wound. He tried to stem the flow. “Bob, do you have a first aid kit?”
Mel sank to her knees and clutched Giles hand. “It’ll be okay, Giles.” Despite her words, she felt her stomach turn over. She knew enough first aid to know it was a dangerous wound, possibly deadly if they couldn't treat it.
Bob hurried over. Mel tuned him out. She stared down at the man she barely knew. “Stay calm, Giles. It will be okay.”
“I— I never meant for this to happen,” Giles moaned, “I don’t want to die.”
Mel looked over at Marcus, who shook his head. She closed her eyes, then squeezed Giles hand reassuringly, “You won’t Giles. Do you have family?”
“God, it hurts. Oh God, my mother, she told me, she told me... Oh God…” His voice dropped to a murmur and his eyes rolled up. Mel felt his wrist, and found a pulse that seemed thready and weak. She looked over at Marcus, “Can we stop the bleeding?”
He shook his head, “We don’t have anything. His femoral is severed. It's pulled up his leg. I could tourniquet him, but then he'll just take longer to die.”
“Oh,” Mel said. She stared down at the stranger she didn’t know, the man who she would watch die. “I hate this ship.”
Bob knelt beside Marcus. He looked over at Mel, “It wasn’t the ship that killed him.” There was anger in the look he gave her, anger and accusation.
She looked over at him, “What?”
“It’s a bullet wound,” Bob said.
Mel stared at him in horror. The robot hadn’t fired bullets. No one had fired... except for her. “I killed him?”