by Paul Rix
Smiling to himself, he began the slow and steady crawl along a wall of the corridor, keeping his motions minimal and fluid. It was like the good old days.
Chapter 33
O'Brien was becoming impatient with the myriad questions being asked by Trask, Captain Maxwell, and Major Thompson. He had repeated himself at least three times, and he knew that time was being wasted. Takahashi was in mortal danger, and the thought of her being alone was impossible to ignore. There was no telling what Delta could do to her.
"Tell me one more time," insisted Trask, who was oblivious to the urgency of the situation. "Why are you so convinced these people aren't working with Garrett?"
"Like I said, they asked too many questions about him. They wanted to know how I knew him and what he was doing on Britannic. They said he was a hindrance to their plans."
"Did they accuse Garrett of being a criminal?"
"Not exactly. They weren't happy that Garrett had reanimated us or searched the ship. They seemed genuinely surprised that he should have gone against their express instructions to stay away from Britannic."
"Ah!" Trask said, waving a scrawny finger. "So they had spoken to him before they arrived. They must know each other."
"I think they may have fooled Garrett into believing they were the rescue team," Maxwell interrupted. She was as equally frustrated as O'Brien and was desperate to rescue Takahashi. She glanced at her chronograph and wondered what progress Garrett was making.
"You don't know that for certain. Garrett could have told you lies. Maybe he is a criminal and Delta is here to arrest him and save us."
O'Brien winced as he touched his swollen cheek. "No, you're not listening. They're not here to save anyone."
"But you say their leader claims to be the president's daughter. And she confirmed that this is the distant future we're in."
"So she says. But until she knew of your existence, she was interested only in retrieving all the data from Britannic's files."
"You're certain she knows who I am?"
"Without a doubt. She and her soldiers knew immediately."
Trask sat back and smiled. Magdalena leaned across to pat him on the arm. "I said you would be remembered for your leadership and courage. It's no surprise the president wants to meet you personally."
He nodded. "It would be rude of me not to accept the invitation. The president must want to honor me for my services. That will be all the catalyst I need to secure my reputation in the Republic."
"You can't trust them," Maxwell said. "They killed two of your guards and are stealing data from my ship. They'll more than likely kill you too. And what about the rest of us?"
"I'm sure the deaths were an accident. They weren't expecting anyone to be aboard. Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the guards became trigger happy. What if—"
He was interrupted by O'Brien, who received dark looks for his impudence. "Grand President, that woman is malicious. You won't be her guest. You'll be her prisoner. She plans to destroy Britannic and kill all of us with it."
"Nonsense, doctor, I'm too famous to be a prisoner. And why would she wish to have anyone killed?"
Captain Maxwell felt the need to step in. "Sir, have you had people killed?"
"Absolutely. But only when they were a threat to the project."
"Or if they challenged your position?"
"Those two things are not mutually exclusive. Project Exodus wouldn't have happened without me."
"The captain has a point," said Thompson. "Whoever is in command of the opposition forces is dangerous. A genuine invitation wouldn't have included a threat. Why else would they keep Takahashi as a hostage? I can't let you go."
"You may be correct, major. But this woman has never dealt with someone like me. How else are we going to take back control of Britannic if I don't explain the error of her ways?"
"We wait for Garrett and your guards," Maxwell said. "Let them do what they need to do."
"You're putting a lot of faith in Garrett. If he is as smart as you keep insisting, he's probably killed my guards and has escaped Britannic."
"And your man here says we're limited on time," Magdalena said. "Isn't that correct?"
O'Brien nodded slowly.
"You've probably never seen the grand president in action. There is nothing he can't do when he sets his mind to it. He has a unique way about him that persuades even the most skeptical." Her smile told Maxwell she didn't want to see Trask's methods.
Without warning, Trask slowly pushed himself forward out of his ornate pod. His rich crimson robes, creased and stiff, looked as old and ragged as Trask had done when first awoken. He stretched his arms and legs, letting out a grateful sigh, as he gently drifted across the chamber, watched intensely by his loyal guards.
"I can't let you risk your life," Thompson insisted. "Let me go in your place. I can act as your emissary. It would be far more appropriate in the circumstances if I negotiate the terms of your meeting. Perhaps even arrange to meet away from her soldiers."
"I've told you. That isn't what Delta wants," O'Brien said. "She'll accept only Grand President Trask."
Thompson shook his head and looked up at Trask. "Sir, when have you ever agreed to other people's demands. Delta is showing you a lack of the courtesy that you deserve. Why isn't she here to greet you in person?"
"You make an excellent observation, major, and maybe it will require someone like me to show her the correct manners. We don't know what has occurred while we've been in stasis. Social norms may have changed, and standards may have slipped. I don't think it would do any harm to allow them some leeway for their indiscretion."
"That is why you are such a wonderful leader and communicator, my husband," Magdalena said as she looked up adoringly. "You have such a genuine sense of empathy and compassion for others."
Captain Maxwell was struggling to remember any occasion when she had seen either of those traits. She now realized that all the speeches he had made on Earth were nothing more than lies to guarantee his own miserable future. Trask and his wife were living in a narcissistic alternative reality. And that was likely to be dangerous for everyone else on Britannic.
"I've decided on the matter," Trask said to no one in particular. "I'm going to meet this Delta and explain to her what my requirements are."
Magdalena couldn't hide the look of excitement. "And I will go with you. It will be a glorious union of personalities."
Thompson looked genuinely uneasy as he tried to convince his leader otherwise. "I cannot iterate enough how foolhardy that would be. Please, sir, allow some patience in the situation. Until we know the full picture."
"What more is there to discover? If these people are dangerous, how does our situation improve if I hide away in this chamber?"
"Then let me go with you, as your protector."
"No!" shouted O'Brien. "Delta made it clear that there must be no guards. Otherwise, they will kill Sakura."
Trask laughed as he stared directly at O'Brien. "I don't believe that for one moment. But I think it better if I don't have a guard. It demonstrates trust if I go unarmed."
"Or stupidity," Thompson said, his frustration getting the better of him.
Trask glared at him, and Thompson, realizing he had crossed the line, lowered his head. "That's enough. Any more insubordination and I will have you replaced. My words are my strength. You'll see."
"I want to go back as well," said O'Brien, turning to Maxwell. "For Sakura."
"I understand," she replied. "But you've been through enough. Let the grand president's physician see to your wounds. As Britannic's captain, it should be me that escorts Trask."
"No, captain, you'll remain here with my guards," said Trask.
Her steely gaze held his. "The ship's safety and the safety of everyone aboard is my responsibility until we arrive at a planet. There is no room for debate on this matter either. If it helps, I will give you a formal introduction."
Trask continued to stare at her before conced
ing. "Very well. It shall be the three of us. But you will be silent while I speak with Delta. Do you understand?"
Maxwell nodded as she prepared herself for the brief journey back to her rightful place in the control room. She knew it was vital to keep her wits about her if they were to escape this calamity alive. Trask was only interested in taking care of himself.
Chapter 34
“Come on. Make your move.”
Garrett had been in his position, less than one hundred and fifty meters from the control room, for about five minutes. The journey from the hangar had involved an enormous amount of risk in his haste to reach a vantage point. Normally he would have been far more circumspect, but there was no time for caution. Although he had employed all the stealth training he had learned so many years before, he was amazed he had made it this far without being detected. The soldiers ahead really were being sloppy. Although their attention was on the rear end of Britannic, experienced troops should always protect their flank.
“I’d discipline you if you were my soldiers,” he muttered under his breath.
Along the way, he had found and deactivated three SDMs, placed at random spots along the central core. They were a fairly new type of explosive device, and he expected they had a higher yield than standard mines. If they had detonated, he estimated they would have caused sufficient damage to buckle the central core, with the resulting pressure wave strong enough to kill everyone on board. It was a frightening thought.
He had kept to the shadows as much as he could, but there had been several spots along the central core where all he could do was chance his luck as he crossed brightly lit sections of the corridor. Each time, he'd held his breath and expected to feel the fatal blast from a photonic rifle. But the soldiers' interest was firmly aimed at the far end of the core.
Garrett's surveillance had revealed little movement from whoever was inside the control room. He had seen someone, probably an officer, exit the control room and speak briefly to one of the guards before heading toward the main airlock, likely heading to Scorpion. The individual had returned several minutes later and gone straight back into the control room, carrying a black box under his arm that appeared remarkably like the SDMs he had gathered.
Everyone seemed to be relaxed. They knew they were in control and were waiting for something to happen. Garrett wished he knew what that something was.
It looked as if he wouldn't have to wait much longer. He had spotted movement from chamber five before the soldier ahead of him. Garrett's telescopic sight had quickly focused on the three individuals; his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.
He gasped in disbelief as he spotted Maxwell accompanying the grand president and his consort on the cart coming toward him. What in hell are they thinking? Where are Thompson and his guards?
Thirty seconds later, the soldier must have also spotted the three because he shouted something to whoever was in the control room. Two people quickly emerged and looked to where the soldier was pointing.
“What are you doing here?”
The appearance of Delta D’Angelo's face in his viewfinder was the ultimate confirmation, as if Garrett needed it, that he was in the middle of something way beyond his pay grade. While he had recognized the presidential markings on the docked ship, he had not considered that it had brought the president's own daughter. The mission, whatever it was, must have full presidential approval.
Delta and her companion spoke briefly to one another before returning to the control room. Garrett was about to move a few meters closer when two more soldiers emerged. One floated over to the soldier who had been keeping guard, while the second drifted along the core in Garrett's direction; he was carrying the box Garrett had seen only a few minutes earlier.
Garrett risked one quick glance along the corridor to see that Maxwell and the grand president were more than halfway on their journey to the control room. There was no way he could stop them without revealing himself. And to do that would risk their lives. He had to find cover from the approaching soldier.
Garrett opened the hatch next to where he had been hiding, hoping that it wouldn't make a sound. As slowly as possible, and with the soldier still eighty meters away, Garrett ducked through the hatch and closed it behind him.
The room was not as dark as the hangar. A faint blue glow originated from somewhere deeper inside. A strong smell of ozone filled his nostrils. though Garrett was too intent on watching for the soldier through the small circular glass window to consider what the room held.
The last thing he expected was to see the soldier's face directly outside, only moments before the hatch opened. Instinctively, Garrett moved deeper into the room and, by touch, found a stack of containers with just enough room between them to crouch down.
Staying perfectly still, he let the soldier pass by his location. Garrett's initial plan was to seal the soldier in the room by locking the hatch and destroying the keypad. That was until he saw the box was another mine.
It was then that the pieces of the puzzle fit together. He was in one of the fusion reactor rooms. That explained the ozone and the electric blue light. Delta's arrival had not signaled a rescue of any kind. She was here to destroy Britannic. That intention couldn't have changed even with the recent knowledge there were colonists on board. Living colonists. Maxwell and Trask were walking into a trap. If they thought they were about to enter a meaningful dialogue with Delta D’Angelo, they were about to be gravely disappointed.
He cursed himself for taking so long to understand what was really occurring and that he was in the wrong place to save Trask or Maxwell. Maybe he could at least save the ark.
In the next room, the soldier activated the lighting controls, allowing Garrett to see the room consisted of two parts. The one he was in now was a small control area that also appeared to double as additional storage. An open door led through to the second room which contained the fusion reactor itself.
Cautiously, Garrett moved out from his position so that he could see the reactor. The arcing strands of super-heated plasma inside the magnetic containment field danced hypnotically, creating random patterns on the walls of the room. The raw energy contained within the two-meter-wide containment was exhilarating to look at. Although it was ancient technology, as far as Garrett was concerned, there appeared to be little deterioration with more than enough energy to power Britannic. It was a wonder to see a working example of a fusion reactor. Unfortunately, now was not the time to admire the expertise of the ancient rocket ship builders.
The soldier had his back to Garrett and was bending forward, intent on the SDM's controls. With only seconds to think, Garrett pointed his photonic rifle at the soldier. "Leave the mine where it is and turn slowly with your hands away from your body."
The soldier's body stiffened as he paused what he was doing. "You're making a big mistake. Turn around and leave if you value your life."
"I won't let you blow this ship up."
The soldier didn't move. "You must be Garrett. By now you must know who you're up against. You can't win."
"I won't ask again. Turn around."
This time, the soldier did as he was told. Leaving the SDM to float free, he moved his hands to his side and slowly turned. As he did so, a small gun moved from a pocket in his forearm to his hand. Garrett saw it just in time and fired a blast of purple photon energy from his rifle.
At point-blank range, the blast should have instantly killed the soldier. Instead, his body armor absorbed the energy, glowing orange as it did so. The soldier grinned at Garrett as he raised his own gun. "That's the last mistake you'll ever m—"
Garrett didn't wait for the shot. He used his legs to push against the nearest bulkhead and charged headfirst at the soldier, catching him by surprise. His gun fired, but the shot missed Garrett by several inches, even from such close range.
Garrett's momentum carried both men into the solid metal base of the reactor, the soldier winded by Garrett's shoulder crashing into his
solar plexus. The soldier ignored the pain and brought down his elbow into the middle of Garrett's back, between his shoulder blades.
The pain was intense and Garrett could not maintain his grip, groaning as he twisted to one side. As he rotated, he snapped his arm forward, knocking the gun from the soldier's fist. It was now a fight to the death, and Garrett knew he was at a disadvantage. His opponent was a good ten years younger than him and, underneath the advanced body armor, was solid muscle. He had only a few seconds to live.
As well as being strong, the soldier was incredibly agile. Despite the weightlessness, he was able to turn, grab Garrett by the shoulders, and put him in a chokehold. Every time he struggled to free himself, Garrett felt the hold tighten around his throat. His lungs were burning as they screamed for precious oxygen.
With one ultimate effort, Garrett got his bionic hand to wrap around the soldier's wrist. Squeezing with all the mechanical effort available, Garrett heard a satisfying snap followed by the soldier's scream. The pressure on his neck relaxed, allowing Garrett to free himself.
The soldier briefly cradled his broken wrist, his eyes filled with burning hatred as he stared at Garrett. He charged forward, yelling in anger. Garrett was ready for him. He'd braced himself and was ready for the onslaught. Ducking to one side, he allowed the soldier's mass to take them both back toward the fusion reactor. The soldier was trying to use his good hand to scratch at Garrett's eyes. He didn't notice as Garrett quickly used his bionic hand. Too late, the soldier realized Garrett had his head in a vicelike grip. With a swift snapping motion, Garrett forced the soldier's head through the reactor's magnetic containment field. The molten plasma incinerated the head in a microsecond, allowing the containment field to seal the gap and prevent any plasma from escaping. The plasma effectively cauterized the soldier's neck, stopping any blood from spilling across the room.
