The Ghost Pact: A Sci-Fi Horror Thriller (Tech Ghost Book 2)

by Ben Wolf

  Moments later, the screen displayed the words “Hovertram Operational,” and the low whir of an approaching hovertram sounded in the distance.

  “Got it,” Justin said as Keontae trembled back into his robotic arm.

  “We need to cover the docking bay doors.” Captain Marlowe pointed his rifle at them. “At least until we’re on that tram. Everyone else, take cover.”

  “Better yet, I can seal them…” Justin said. “I think.”

  [Yeah, I got you, JB,] Keontae confirmed.

  He hurried over to the same terminal he’d used to break into the docking bay last night, and Keontae got to work once again. When Keontae finished and jumped back into Justin’s arm, Justin turned back to the others.

  “It’s not gonna hold for long,” he said. “They’re just doors. ACM has enough firepower to get them open one way or another, but it should buy us some time.”

  But the threat never manifested. The hovertram arrived, and the Viridian’s survivors boarded it and cruised toward Nidus City, leaving the carnage in the docking bay behind them.

  As they glided toward the city, one question permeated Justin’s mind, brought to life by Keontae’s words spoken only to him:

  [What the hell do we do now?]

  After killing Captain James, Admiral Siroch Sever casually pulled back and waited in his transport until the resulting battle concluded.

  His men had shielded him so well that the pulse-resistant shield emanating from his left hand didn’t even take a single hit. If it had, he would’ve felt it.

  Decades earlier, in the Third Copalion War, he’d lost his hands while trying to defuse a copalion bomb planted aboard a transport vessel full of ACM troops. Sever, then only a lieutenant, only had basic bomb-defusing training, but he’d managed to pull it off, saving the lives of everyone on board.

  That is, he’d managed to extract the detonator from the bomb, thus preventing it from igniting the copalion and vaporizing the entire ship, but it had still exploded in his hands.

  The protective armor he’d donned had saved his life and preserved most of his body, but the force of the blast had reduced every bone in his hands and forearms into powder. The best doctors in the galaxy with the best medical tech and training couldn’t have saved them, so they were amputated and replaced with prosthetics.

  Fitting, in hindsight, for a man whose last name was “Sever.”

  As the symphony of gunfire and explosions slowed to occasional chatter, Sever knew the fighting had concluded. Now his soldiers would sweep through the docking bay, looking for stragglers. They’d take the healthy ones who’d surrendered and any important-looking officials in for questioning, and they’d finish off the injured survivors quickly and cleanly.

  In the years since the bomb incident, Sever had risen through the ranks at a breakneck pace. His ruthless decisiveness and calculating mind had earned ACM countless victories over the last two decades, and they’d rewarded him with the Avarice and an admiralty as a way to thank him.

  Now, at long last, he truly had the status he’d long sought after and the power to go with it. The Avarice was a cunning, devastating ship, a testament to everything that a warship should be, and it was fully his to control. Sever doubted he could’ve harpooned a vessel as massive and valuable as the Nidus with a lesser ship.

  “Admiral.”

  A voice pulled Sever out of his reverie, and he looked up from the screen in his hands. Commander Caustus Falstaff, the Avarice’s third-in-command officer and Sever’s right hand when it came to troop operations, stood before him at attention.

  “Report,” Sever said.

  “The enemy is routed. A few dozen survivors, half of them wounded. Interrogations are already underway.”

  “And what of our commission?”

  “Still unfulfilled,” Falstaff replied. “We’ve located the science vessel, and I’ve got a team of specialists scanning it as we speak. If it’s there, we will find it.”

  Of the thousands of soldiers aboard the Avarice, only Sever and Falstaff knew the nature of the quarry they sought. Not even Captain Gable knew anything about it.

  While he technically outranked Commander Falstaff, Captain Gable was relegated to commanding the Avarice’s day-to-day operations. He didn’t need to concern himself with the bigger picture—that was Sever’s job, and Commander Falstaff was there to execute his will for him.

  “Fine,” Sever said. “Any sign of the vessel’s crew?”

  “They don’t seem to be among the dead, as far as we can tell,” Falstaff replied. “Some of our soldiers reported interrogating the crew of the other ship, a Stinger-Class drilling rig. They are now unaccounted for, but several of our men saw them fleeing the docking bay once the shooting started.”

  “Scattering like the insects they are.” Sever leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. “What’s their affiliation? Farcoast?”

  Falstaff shook his head. “Independent. Freelance. The men performed a basic search of their ship and found nothing of note, but if you want, I can have another team scan it more in-depth.”

  “Fine. But don’t let it distract you from your focus on the science vessel.”

  Falstaff nodded. “Understood, sir.”

  When Falstaff didn’t leave, Sever asked, “There’s more?”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  Sever granted himself a grin. “It must be important if you asked me that, Commander. You rarely ever do.”

  “Usually there is no need to, sir, and I’d rather not come across as insubordinate by virtue of asking.”

  Above all else, Sever appreciated his commander’s loyal regard of the chain of command. Rather than pushing back or questioning orders, generally he opted to get things done and provide updates later. It made him an ideal officer in Admiral Sever’s eyes.

  Given that, Sever had no problem with granting his request this time. “Speak freely, Commander.”

  “I think it was a mistake to attack the Coalition’s representatives,” he said.

  The second trait of Falstaff’s that Sever appreciated was his blunt, no-nonsense approach to everything. He got to the point without delay, and Sever preferred that. It kept conversations concise and clear.

  “Why?”

  “I’m worried about the repercussions it will have for the company, like Captain James said.”

  Sever nodded. “I won’t go so far as to say my decision was the only viable option in that situation, but I will say it was the most expedient way of getting us total control over this colonist ship—and thus control of our commission and the prize that we seek. It was the quickest way to overcome that obstacle.”

  “We lost a lot of men, sir.”

  “We’re at war,” Sever replied. “Casualties are inherent. But now no one else needs to die since we have seized control of the ship. Before long, we’ll have our quarry, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Thanks to various peace treaties following the Third Copalion War, ACM wasn’t at war with anyone at the moment—not officially, anyway. But that didn’t stop either ACM or rival companies like Farcoast from operating in the shadows and dueling with each other in secret. After all, what good was a ship like the Avarice without a target for all that firepower?

  “Even so, I expect we will be made to pay for this. Whether personally or at the corporate level, this will not go unpunished,” Falstaff said.

  Sever looked Falstaff up and down. He was a younger man, especially for his rank. Mid-thirties. Tall, lean, strong. Blond hair, dark eyes, and a good, solid soldier’s jaw.

  “We’ll let the corporate offices worry about that,” Sever replied. “With the Avarice, we can handle just about anything that comes our way. If the Coalition does come after Andridge for this, the company will pay the fine, skirt the sanctions, and operate as usual. And that’s assuming there’s any evidence of wrongdoing left to find.”

  Falstaff’s chin rose slightly. “If you give that order, I’ll obey, though I’d prefe
r not to have the deaths of the tens of thousands of people aboard this colonist ship on my conscience.”

  “Noted, Commander,” Sever said.

  If Falstaff had any weakness, it was the presence of his conscience. Rarely did it come into conflict with what they had to do, but Sever would’ve preferred that Falstaff forgo his conscience entirely, just as Sever had. It would make both of their jobs so much easier.

  The day that bomb took his hands, Sever gave up his conscience, and he hadn’t looked back since.

  From the pensive look on Falstaff’s face, Sever could tell it wasn’t enough to satisfy him.

  “In any case, Andridge has made it perfectly clear to me that our quarry is more important than anything else. They put no limits on what I was permitted to do in order to obtain it.”

  “If it exists.”

  “The only people who run are those who have something to hide, Commander,” Sever said. “The science vessel ran. In that ship, they thought they could get away, but they were wrong. And soon, we will possess that which they’re trying to keep from us.”

  “Aye, sir.” Falstaff nodded, then his hand went to his ear, and he nodded again. “Sorry, sir. I’m told the scans have come back negative aboard the science vessel, except for trace amounts of blood resulting from an explosion in the cockpit.”

  Sever sighed. “Then we must expand our search. Take the science vessel back to the Avarice. Pull it apart, piece by piece, until we’re absolutely certain it isn’t hidden somewhere aboard.

  “Also, send your men into the city. Have them search and question everyone, house by house, until it is found. Give them just enough information to know what to look for, and tell them to focus on finding the crew of that science vessel. Pull the manifest from the vessel and use that to locate them.”

  Falstaff’s fingers still pressed against his ear. “I’m being told that our technical team is already aboard, but the manifest is fragmented and mostly unreadable. Only two names are decipherable. One is the captain, Mitch Dawes.”

  “Finding him would be a boon. Focus your efforts primarily on him.” Sever asked, “Who is the other?”

  “Dr. Hallie Hayes.”

  “Then find her, too.”

  “Aye, sir,” Falstaff said.

  “You’re dismissed, Commander.”

  “Aye, sir.” He saluted Sever and turned to leave.

  “Commander?” Sever barked, and Falstaff turned back. “Kill anyone who gets in your way.”

  Once they got off the tram, Justin replaced Shaneesha in helping Al walk. Their hopes of catching a hovercar or some other transport to take them farther into the city had dropped to zero thanks to ACM’s invasion. Their next move might prove to be a life-or-death decision, and it made Justin all the more wary.

  “Where do we go?” Shaneesha asked, looking around.

  Nidus City, once bustling and thrumming with life, had gone silent as a crypt. Its vibrant, multicolored lights still glowed, casting that blue hue everywhere, even as the artificial late-afternoon sun sank toward the faux horizon. But no one moved through the streets, and only a handful of vehicles zoomed between the towering buildings.

  “Gotta figure the hotels and businesses are closed,” Captain Marlowe said, still holding his pulse rifle. He, too, scanned the cityscape before them. “And we don’t know anyone here. So no one’s gonna put us up willingly.”

  “So we need to break in somewhere and hunker down.” Arlie crouched down next to Al’s leg with some bandages from her pack in her hands. “Hold still. I’m gonna wrap your leg so it doesn’t keep bleeding.”

  “Thanks,” Al said down to her.

  “Maybe we can break in,” Captain Marlowe replied. “Either way, those soldiers will come here next. If they’re willing to massacre an army of Farcoast soldiers, they damn sure will rip this city apart ’til they find what they’re looking for.”

  “What are they looking for?” Lora asked.

  Justin looked at her across Al’s chest, and their eyes met, albeit briefly. She’d helped him out by getting Al off his back, literally, but now they supported Al together, one on each side.

  Her eyes narrowed at him, and her lips tightened, and then she looked away.

  Apparently, she was prepared to hold onto her grudge even though they’d been thrown into the middle of a war zone… as if Justin didn’t have enough to worry about already.

  He rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “You say somethin’?” Her head snapped back toward him.

  “No,” he replied quickly—perhaps a bit too quickly. “We’re just in a rough spot.”

  “That’s puttin’ it mildly.”

  Justin bit his tongue.

  [She just won’t let this go, huh?] Keontae muttered.

  “You know what?” Lora continued. “We do know somebody here.”

  Everyone turned their attention to her.

  “At least, Justin does.”

  [Oh, shit. She’s callin’ you out, son.]

  All eyes fell on him, and he wanted to shrivel up into a ball and roll away. If he’d wanted to suggest taking everyone to the house where Hallie was staying, he would’ve done it by now. Amid all the commotion, he’d completely forgotten that Lora had seen him leaving there, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

  Even so, maybe it really was their best option. Al needed medical attention for his leg, more than what they could provide there, in light of Dr. Carrington’s demise. Hallie wasn’t a medical doctor, but she clearly knew something about biology, so perhaps she could help. Or maybe one of her crew could.

  In any case, it made sense to find her anyway. She and her crew undoubtedly had whatever ACM was looking for, and that meant she might have some answers. More information might lead to more choices for them, and possibly a way to get out of this with their lives.

  “Well?” Arlie pressed.

  “Yeah,” Justin finally said. “I know a place.”

  Within half an hour of sluggish steps thanks to Al’s injury, they’d reached the ritzy neighborhood where Hallie’s rented house was located. As with the rest of the city, the entire block of grand stone houses remained silent and sullen, yet behind them, Justin could hear the distant sounds of rifle fire and explosions announcing ACM’s arrival.

  [So much for a simple search,] Keontae said. [They’re gonna ravage this whole ship ’til they get what they want.]

  The idea that they’d inevitably come face-to-face with ACM again, this time with soldiers who would stop at nothing to get whatever it was they came for, sent terror ratcheting into Justin’s chest, but he resisted it.

  After all, he’d survived a hell of a lot worse than this back on Ketarus-4. If he was careful, he could survive this, too.

  Several houses later, they stopped in front of a familiar white mansion with a bronze door. The same spear-tipped bronze fence surrounded the property, now with its gate shut and locked. Earlier, Justin had decided he was glad he’d never have to climb over it. Maybe he’d been wrong.

  “This is it,” Lora said for him.

  He eyed her across Al’s chest. “Thanks.”

  “Will you two cut it out?” Al snapped. “The simmering between you is making me sweat. I feel like I’m a piece of fresh roadkill stuck between two badgers.”

  Justin didn’t know what a badger was, but he got the idea. “Sorry, Al.”

  “Not yet, but you’re gonna be,” Lora quipped.

  “I take it back,” Justin said. “I’m sorry I ever met her.”

  “That’s right. Make jokes. See how far that gets you.”

  “Both of you, shut up,” Captain Marlowe barked. “We’re on the same side. Fight all you want when we get off this ship, but until then, I don’t want to hear any more squabbling. Crystal?”

  “Clear,” Justin replied.

  “Oh, we’re clear,” Lora said. “’Cause I don’t need to say it for him to know how it is.”

  Justin just sighed again.

  Captain M
arlowe ignored her. “You’re up, Justin. Get us inside.”

  Justin glanced between him and the gate, and Shaneesha took his place in helping Al stay upright. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do in this situation.

  “You know someone inside, right?” Captain Marlowe said.

  “You’d better believe he does,” Lora said.

  “Quiet,” Captain Marlowe snapped at her. “Try calling at the gate. See if they’ll let us in.”

  “O—kay…” Justin approached the bronze gate. A small screen affixed to its bars glowed with blue light from a rectangle in the center, but there were no directions.

  He pressed the rectangle with his right index finger, and Keontae jumped in. Rather than waiting for any sort of answer, Justin decided to let Keontae handle the work, as usual. Within seconds, it turned green, and the gate slid open, occasionally squeaking as it rolled on its track.

  Justin turned back to the others. “Guess it worked.”

  On his way through the gate, Justin rested his hand on the screen again so Keontae could jump back into his arm, and he did. Everyone else followed him inside, and they ascended the stone steps toward the large bronze door at the front of the house.

  Justin got it open as well, again thanks to Keontae, and everyone carefully and quietly ventured inside.

  The door opened into a large receiving area, sort of like a lobby, Justin supposed. Smooth stone floors shone underfoot, and twin staircases crawled up the walls on both sides, leading to the second floor. Openings to the left and the right of the lobby led into additional rooms, both as grand and huge as the lobby, if not more so.

  To Justin’s surprise, there were no lights on, but a decent amount of golden afternoon sun still streamed through many of the windows—enough to see, but not enough to see much detail. Under the stairwells, matching doors led deeper into the house, but he couldn’t tell much beyond that due to the low light.

  Overall, his initial impression of this and the other houses on the block had been right: the space inside was plentiful, with high ceilings and sprawling rooms, especially compared to the narrow boundaries between the houses on the exterior.