by Paul Rix
Frederick shook his head in disbelief. "While that is absolutely astounding, it doesn't mean those lives are viable. Surely after two thousand years, there would be irreparable damage to the physical bodies and their mental state."
Delta smiled. She was pulling in her brother as she had intended. His curiosity and predictability were going to be the death of him one day. "They have successfully revived at least two. I've spent time with them. They seem lucid enough, if not entirely appreciative of their situation."
"You revived them? Is that wise?"
"Forget them, brother. They're only bridge crew. I've found a far more important prize. I'm thinking of returning it for Mother."
"I wouldn't bother if it's another ancient weapon. She has more than enough museum pieces in the vault."
"Do not despair. What I have in mind is unique. The rarest of gifts that will give Mother extended satisfaction. A gift from Earth that no one knows exists and which will keep her entertained for months."
Frederick was unimpressed, barely concealing a tired yawn. "Are you going to drag this out for much longer? I have other meetings to attend."
"I'm sorry. I actually need your advice." She knew that would grab her brother's attention again. "There's a very special dignitary on board. Grand President Trask."
Frederick's eyes widened. "The grand president! Surely this is a joke."
"Why would I make this up?"
"How is that possible? He would have been too old for Project Exodus."
"No wonder Mother worries about you. Have you learned nothing about the hidden benefits of power? If you know what you're doing, you can control absolutely everything. And no one can stop you. Why shouldn't Trask have the right to survive like the other volunteer colonists?"
Frederick shrugged. "Of course you should bring him back. Trask will share his experiences and enlighten us on his knowledge of Earth history. I certainly want to know why he is on Britannic."
"I understand all that. My worry is his presence could be a potential ticking time bomb. If the public discovers he's alive, can you imagine the questions as to how he arrived? Returning to the palace with him is not the smartest move. And he's heavily guarded in his chamber."
"Now I understand why you've been so quiet. You've become a politician, always weighing up the risk versus reward of every decision."
"Is there any other way?"
"You know I could collect Trask in a heartbeat. We can keep him safely locked up. No one but us would know. And when he's outlived his usefulness, we simply dispose of him."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It is. You're making it difficult because you don't want to send your precious Commander Stone into a battle situation."
"Trask may have hundreds of his security guards ready to fight to the death to save their grand president."
"Fighting with nothing more than the equivalent of bows and arrows. I really don't know what you're afraid of."
Delta wasn't sure now, either. Deep down inside she knew she had taken too long deciding what to do. She shouldn't be afraid of anything. The only concept of failure on this mission was failing to obliterate Britannic. Somewhere in the past two hours, she had made Trask matter. It made no sense.
"Should we consult with Mother?" she asked.
"No. Let it be our surprise. But if you're going to snatch Trask, do it soon. Every minute increases the chance of a random citizen stumbling upon the ark."
Delta nodded. "I'll allow myself another hour to get everything we need. After that, we detonate the SDMs and destroy the ship, with or without Trask."
***
Frederick paced his private quarters. Events were moving too fast. The knowledge that Grand President Trask was alive, along with Britannic's colonists, was completely unexpected. It affected his decision so much.
If he sided with Deschamps, then he would be the savior of one thousand people. This was a moment in history, and he could be the center of it. He imagined how his popularity would surge in such a scenario; assuming Delta didn't destroy Britannic.
Until now, he had played his cards close to his chest. Reluctantly, he realized it was time he decided once and for all.
It was time to meet Deschamps face-to-face.
Chapter 29
Progress along the Britannic's hull was proving to be slow and tedious. Upon leaving the ship through the cramped service airlock, it had become quickly apparent to Garrett that he would have to tether himself to the guards to avoid one of them floating away. Despite Thompson's earlier assertion, none of them had any real concept of movement in zero gravity. It may have been fear or a lack or of coordination following the reanimation process, but it was as frustrating as taking young children on a nature hunt.
The antique spacesuits didn't help. They were cumbersome and lacked the mobility that Garrett was so used to. It amazed him that anyone could work with delicate tools while wearing thick gloves that offered no proper sense of touch. It was difficult enough to grip onto anything with any confidence, and his hands had already slipped when he thought he was secure.
The one positive aspect of the ship's battered hull was that it offered a rough surface. Some of the dents and holes caused by space rocks were large enough for several men to enter and provided secure locations in which to rest.
As time wore on, the guards' lack of fitness was also proving to be a problem. Although Garrett had expected issues, it concerned him they would be of little use should they encounter the enemy.
The route Garrett chose was straight along the length of Britannic, on the opposite side of the hull from his ship and the main airlock. He had decided it was best to stay out of direct sight for as long as possible. While it was unlikely the enemy was expecting anyone to appear on the exterior of Britannic, there was no point in tempting providence. And engaging the enemy out here was not part of his plan. With no concept of distance, he did not know how far they had progressed in thirty minutes.
At the second rest stop, he ordered the guards to stay where they were while he untied his end of the tether. There were no objections as he informed them he was going to scout around the side of the ship.
Without the four guards holding him back, Garrett could move quickly around Britannic's circumference. Once he could no longer see the guards because of the curved hull, he proceeded with more caution, keeping his head and body close to the spaceship. Wherever possible, he pulled himself along with his hands, ready at any moment to reach for his rifle.
Looking ahead and to his left, it satisfied him to see the top of Raptor less than one hundred meters away. It looked to be still in one piece with no sign of damage or venting gases. It was more than he could have hoped.
Venturing forward more cautiously, he caught the first sight of the enemy's ship. Its matt black hull was hard to spot at first until a flash of light reflected off a slim metallic antenna. The ship looked sleek, its smooth lines seemingly carved out of a solid mass. It appeared to be docked directly onto Britannic's airlock, preventing any opportunity for Garret and his guards to enter that way.
Cautiously, using his own ship to hide his approach, Garrett tried to get a better view of the ominous black craft. It was approximately three times larger than Raptor and had an impressive array of armaments. Instinctively, he knew his ship would be no match for this vessel.
But it wasn't until he saw the ship's name, emblazoned in fine gold lettering, that he knew how much trouble he was really in.
***
Garrett could see one of Thompson's guards eagerly awaiting his return.
"Are you all ready to go?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could. "I've located the enemy ship. The good news is my ship is closer. So, a slight change of plan. We're going to my ship first to collect some important equipment and supplies."
"Do you know who the enemy is? Are they space pirates?" said one of the more nervous guards.
Garrett rolled his eyes. "No, they're not space pirates. These are more professiona
l."
"So you know them."
"I know of them," Garrett lied. The guards didn't need to know the whole truth.
"How many of them there are?" asked another guard.
"Will they kill us?" asked a third.
"Can you all just calm down? We are dealing with professional soldiers. I don't know what they're here for. That's what we're all going to find out." Garrett was regretting leaving the guards so long. Their imaginations had run riot.
"Do you have laser rifles on your ship?" asked the first guard. "Do we all get one?"
Garrett clipped the tether back onto his belt and began retracing his steps toward his ship, giving the guards no choice but to follow in single file. He'd preferred them when they were afraid and silent. "I have photonic rifles, if that's what you mean. I think I have enough to go round."
The news encouraged the guards, who picked up their pace and threatened to overtake Garrett.
As they approached the point where Garrett could see his craft, he ordered the group to keep low. "I don't think there is anyone on the enemy ship. But there may be sensors, so follow me to the airlock. We're going directly inside my ship. No waiting on Britannic's hull. Is that clear?"
Once the guards had confirmed their understanding, Garrett completed the last thirty meters to his ship, pulling himself up the three steps to the airlock entrance. Feeling as if the enemy ship's guns were pointing at his back, he hastily keyed in the access code and entered the airlock. Once everyone was safely inside, he wasted no time sealing the hatch and pressurizing the airlock.
Once he had removed his helmet, he signaled the others to do the same. "Time to see the future, boys," he said with a wide grin on his face. "Let's get those rifles."
The guards followed closely behind Garrett as he led them along a narrow corridor and into the galley area. He stopped to ask, "What do you think of my ship so far?"
"I believe you may be telling us the truth," said the lead guard, with a broad smile on his face.
"Thanks. That makes me almost regret what I'm about to do." He saw a look of confusion cross the face of the nearest guard. Grabbing hold of the nearest bulkhead, Garrett quickly said, "Computer, set gravity to a multiple of two standard."
His legs almost buckled as the ship's computer adjusted the artificial gravity settings to twice the standard force. The effect it had on the guards' frail and weak bodies was far more dramatic. As one, they collapsed to the ground, incapable of moving. Their bodies couldn't cope with the excessive gravity, and even breathing was arduous.
Garrett took two heavy paces forward and looked down at the helpless guards. "Don't worry. This will be uncomfortable but will not cause any lasting injuries. However, it may be best if you don't struggle. No hard feelings, but I don't need any of you for the next part of this mission."
The four guards stared back at him with a mixture of confusion and loathing, unable to speak as they struggled to catch their breath.
There was little resistance as Garrett laid them out flat on their backs, moving twisted limbs into more comfortable positions. Still in their spacesuits, the four of them took up nearly all the floor space and looked ridiculous. For a fleeting moment, they reminded Garrett of the flatfish he had caught as a boy on Lafayette.
Satisfied that the guards were safe, Garrett slowly made his way to the bridge. It was only ten meters along the corridor from the galley, but he still found himself breathing heavily because of the additional exertion. He briefly wondered whether he was being too tough on the guards, but accepted that he had to ensure they stayed out of his way.
He was thankful to sit in his chair, easing the pressure on his aching legs. His neck and arms were feeling sore, and every move required additional concentration.
The first task was to check the external sensors. The enemy vessel had not changed its position, which meant it was likely that the entire crew must be on board Britannic. That gave him a fighting chance to at least move his own ship away from the immediate danger zone.
Carefully, he released the magnetic docking clamps, ensuring they made as little sound as possible that could reverberate through Britannic and warn the enemy. Gently caressing the attitude control thrusters, he drifted his craft away from Scorpion, toward the forward end of Britannic, at the same time moving diagonally. He wanted to be out of sight of Scorpion, and the only way was to be on the opposite side of the hull.
He landed close to the hangar doors, touching down as gently as he'd lifted off. Once the docking clamps were in place, he tried to contact Levi Murphy. But, although the quantum comms system was operational, he couldn't establish a connection. When a general transmission also failed, it confirmed his suspicions.
Damn, I'm going to have to do this on my own.
Chapter 30
O'Brien could relax over Takahashi's condition. Although he wanted to conduct more thorough testing, the initial signs were that she had not suffered permanent nerve damage. The tremors had stopped coursing through her body almost as soon as he had administered the medication. Takahashi had described her left arm as feeling as if someone had squeezed it inside a mechanical vice, but she could clench her fist and wiggle her fingers.
It was her mental wellbeing that he was now more concerned with. The traumatic experiences of the previous twenty-four hours were taking their toll on her nerves. She was quieter than he remembered her ever being and he had caught her several times wrapping her arms around her legs in a fetal position as she nervously glanced at the armed soldiers in the command center.
Now that the soldiers had access to the ship's records, they were taking less of an interest in him and Takahashi. Perhaps they were no longer regarded as a risk.
"We'll be okay, Saki. You'll see," he said, not for the first time, as he put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle hug.
She didn't flinch, instead, lowering her head onto his chest. "They're going to kill us."
"Of course they're not. We've given them what they want."
"We're witnesses. They won't leave anyone alive."
"You heard her. She's the president's daughter. The threats weren't real."
"Then where is the warm welcome? Why are they stealing data files when they should celebrate our arrival and be checking our health? Think about it, Luke. This is a covert mission."
O'Brien knew he dare not tell Takahashi what Delta had told him. If death was inevitable, there was little point in letting her know how limited her future was.
"Tell me about chamber five," he whispered. "Are they in a position to help?"
Takahashi frowned. "Not from what I saw. They easily killed the two guards with me. I don't know if their reaction times were slower or if it was simply the difference in weapons. Do you know how many of the enemy there are?"
"I think nine, including the president's daughter. She's definitely a psycho. I've been trying to count the soldiers, but they keep coming and going. You've got the commander who is standing at the console, together with seven regular troops. I've been watching them. They're highly trained individuals. It's as if they know what to do without being ordered. More than a match for Trask's guards,"
"But there are almost two hundred guards."
"Numbers mean nothing. The guards wouldn't make it halfway along the corridor before being wiped out. Oz will know that and hopefully prevent Trask from starting a war he cannot win."
"Could Oz find a way out of this for us?"
"I don't see how he can make a difference. His equipment is out of reach on his ship. All we can do is wait it out. Once this group gets what they want, they'll leave us alone."
At that moment, Delta returned, floating through the hatch and landing next to Stone.
"How are you progressing?"
Stone checked the storage device. "Another ten minutes and we'll have a complete upload of everything in the ship's data files."
"Excellent work."
Delta turned toward the two p
risoners, the piercing look in her eyes making both O'Brien and Takahashi shrink into the corner. She pulled herself around the console so that she was close to them before pointing a finger at O'Brien.
"I have a minor task for you. I want you to persuade Grand President Trask to come to me."
O'Brien stared defiantly at her. "Why would I do that?"
Delta swiftly leaned across and viciously grabbed Takahashi by the wrist. Taken by surprise, Takahashi let out a small scream.
"Do I need to explain what I will do if you refuse my request?"
O'Brien held a hand up. "No, There's no need to hurt Sakura. In fact, let her go and I'll stay here."
Takahashi screamed again, louder this time, as Delta twisted her wrist.
"You’re wasting my time, O'Brien. I want Trask here in fifteen minutes. Whether you return with him is entirely up to you."
O'Brien looked despairingly at Takahashi, who had quietly begun to sob. He knew she wasn't handling the situation well. The last thing he wanted was to leave her alone with Delta.
"Do you have a message to persuade the grand president he should come?"
Delta gave him a smile, although it was anything but friendly. "I'm offering him the opportunity to meet with the president of the Federation. It's a one-time offer for him alone. I don't want to see any of his guards."
"And if he refuses?"
"That would be a poor decision for everyone on Britannic. Share with him that I am serious when I say that I don't like to be refused."
O'Brien nodded in understanding. He gave Takahashi a hug, whispering, "I will be back for you, Sakura. Stay strong." Reluctantly, he let go of her, passing between Delta and her soldiers as he entered the central core. Before heading toward chamber five, he looked back one last time to see Takahashi staring at him, wide-eyed, and pale as a sheet. Forcing a weak smile he set off hoping to save not only her life but possibly the lives of everyone aboard. The prospect did not fill him with confidence.
