by GARY DARBY
This—this was totally outside their training and experience, wholly outside his abilities as team leader to counter.
After a while, his mind slowed, his eyelids began to droop as the medicine took effect. Even as he began to drift off, he kept thinking that if these people indeed were Faction hostages, what hope did they have now?
Dason awoke from his long sleep feeling refreshed, but famished. He looked at the chronometer and frowned. He’d slept a long time.
With an abrupt start, he recalled Nase’s stunning declaration and sat straight up in bed. The five scouts were Faction captives. He didn’t know which was worse, being trapped in the lake of acid or being trapped by the Faction.
He started to get out of bed when TJ stuck her head in and smiled. “Well, bout’ time you woke up.”
Dason rolled out of bed and stood. “Don’t ever remember sleeping so long before.”
“Probably the sleepy pills Stinneli gave you,” TJ explained. “Hungry?”
“Past starving as a matter of fact.”
“Good, I’ll go rustle up some grub.”
She smiled wide. “Glad to have you back, Dason, you had us a little worried there. I have to tell you that was some fall. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I felt rather than saw the fall, if you know what I mean.”
“I guess that’s so.” She looked around before saying in a low voice, “The gang wants to talk. I’ll get brunch and them too at the same time.”
A few minutes later, TJ brought back both a hot ration-pac and the other novices. Even before Dason could dig into his food, the topic turned to their Gadion captors.
TJ began by saying to Dason, “We haven’t had much chance to talk, but the general feeling is that what Nase said kinda makes sense.”
“A real scary kind of sense,” Sami mumbled.
Shanon asked Dason, “What do you think?”
Dason didn’t answer right away. Instead, he swallowed a bite of food before saying, “In all honesty, it kept me awake for a long time before I could get to sleep.”
He turned to Nase and admitted, “But your idea would answer a lot of questions.”
“Yes,” TJ replied, “it does, but it also raises questions. Like how do we know that Bianca will keep her word? The Faction isn’t known for honor and integrity.”
“No, they’re not,” Dason replied around a mouthful of syn-potatoes. “They’re merciless and cruel, but that was the chance we took when we agreed to the deal. So where does that leave us?”
“It leaves us with no option but to escape at the first chance, that’s where it leaves us!” Sami argued.
No one offered a counter to Sami’s outburst.
Silence settled over the group until Shanon spoke up. “Dason, you’re still our team leader, and we’re still a team. Nothing has changed that. So, give us the word, TL.”
Dason finished the last bit of vegi-meal, using the diversion of eating to give him time to think. He then pronounced, “Sami’s right, we need to start planning our escape.
“We can’t depend on Bianca keeping her promise, so at the first real opportunity we have, we make a break.”
“Dason, what about—” Shanon started, but Dason held up his hand, saying, “Poison or no poison, we go.”
Before anyone could reply, the door opened and Stinneli walked into the room. “Lunch hour is over,” he ordered. “Everyone out but Thorne. You four report to the main cargo bay.”
His lips turned up in a small smile at Sami. “I think I heard something about more latrines needed cleaning.”
Sami opened his mouth, glared, and stomped out, followed by the other novices.
Stinneli gave Dason a quick once-over and asked, “How’re you feeling?”
“Umm, okay, I think. Ready to get up out of this bed.”
“Good. The concussion is gone; your bruises are healing, and everything else seems to be in working order. I do believe you are going to live, after all.”
He scratched at his chin. “I can’t justify holding you here anymore. You’ve eaten so join your shipmates in the cargo area. I’ll inform Bianca that you’re off sick quarters.”
With that, Dason made his way to the main cargo bay. As he entered, Shanon waved for him to join her. She looked him over and gave him an approving nod. “Well, you do seem to be in one piece.”
She leaned a little closer and put a hand on Dason’s arm. “You okay, Dason? Really?”
“I’m okay,” he replied. “A little sore and bruised, and if you challenged me to a raq-ball game, you’d have to spot me fifteen points, and play blindfolded while standing on one leg. Even then I probably couldn’t beat you.”
Her smile dimpled her cheeks. “When we get back, you’re on, but first you and Sami have to play your game of horse, remember?”
“Oh yeah, horse. I’d forgotten about that.”
Shanon looked around the large hangar bay. “Did they give you an assignment yet?”
“Nope. Just got here.”
“Good, come help me; I could use an extra hand.”
“Sure, what are we doing?” Dason asked as Shanon led him over to the Stinger Six scouter.
“Routine maintenance,” she answered. “Diagnostics on the E-systems plus calibration of flight and navigation sensor pods. And if needed, replacement of m-boards in the command control panels.”
Dason raised his eyebrows at her response and commented, “Interesting. I thought they’d have us doing make-busy work like wash the sylcron windows or vacuum out the cargo deck.”
She laughed. “Sami caught a couple of those. If he would just learn to keep his mouth shut when he’s around Bianca. Seems like he just can’t help himself.”
“Uh, uh,” Dason replied. “You know that’s not going to happen. Saint Peter could be blowing his horn, and Sami would make some wisecrack about him playing off-key.”
A while later Dason lay on his back under the pilot console running a diagnostic on the m-board. Above him, Shanon called out the readings from the pilot’s console.
They had just finished one set of tests, when Shanon poked her head under the console. “Dason, there was another reason I wanted you to help me. It’s what Nase said. Do you think he's right? Are they Gadion Faction?”
Dason lowered his maser-tipped micro calibrator and peered up at Shanon. He scratched at his cheek and replied, “Have you ever noticed how Nase doesn’t talk much? But when he does, it’s usually pretty much on the mark.”
He paused before saying, “And you have to admit it would explain a number of things—crew organization, sophisticated equipment, deep-space support.”
Shanon lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Common outlaws are one thing, but to deal with the Faction—that's a whole different story.”
“I know,” he replied with a grimace. “That’s what kept me awake for the longest time. I have to admit, before, I thought there was just a chance, especially after what happened on Stygar, that they would keep their word. Now? I don’t know.”
Shanon hunched forward, her elbows on knees. “To tell you the truth, I feel a little confused, and not sure that I believe Nase, but afraid that he might just be right.”
“I understand,” Dason replied in a sympathetic nature. “I wish I had the answers, but I don’t.”
He gave a half-hearted shrug while saying, “I guess that all we can do is to keep going, keep trying—and hope that somehow we'll find a way to escape.”
He stopped and lowered his voice. “Or at least you and the others can get away.”
Shanon didn’t answer. Instead, she rose and slid into the pilot’s seat. Neither spoke while they concentrated on their tasks until Shanon broke the silence.
“Dason, this bunch being Faction would explain a lot, but does it really explain everything?”
Dason rolled out from under the console to a sitting position and leaned back against the nearest bulkhead. “What do you mean?
”
“Well,” she returned as she pivoted the chair around to face Dason. “I took a course last year in Imperium civic history. We studied the more prominent opposition groups in the Imperium, including the Gadions.
“I don’t remember much about the others but what was striking about the Faction is how powerful and sophisticated they’ve become within a relatively short time.
“So, in that sense, I can see them having capabilities like a drone resupply. But the other thing I recall from the class is the Faction’s ruthlessness. I mean some of the things they’ve done are—”
“Horrible,” Dason replied. “Yeah, I know. But still—”
“But still, nothing,” Shanon returned. “This poaching thing and the quadro-diamonds seem awfully tame from what I learned about their activities. It seems out of character and doesn’t quite add up.”
“Maybe they need to do it to finance their operations?” Dason offered.
“Could be, but I’m not so sure.”
Dason caught Shanon’s eye and spoke slowly, “Back on Stygar Six, after I got Bianca in the scouter, she was kind of woozy from the explosion. When I placed her in the acceleration chair she . . .”
He stopped and wiggled a finger so that Shanon had to lean way over. Dason put his mouth close to Shanon’s ear and whispered.
Shanon jerked her head back. “No! You're sure that’s what she said?”
“I admit that things were a little screwy right then, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I heard.”
Shanon shook her head several times and raised her maser-rod to tap her parted lips. “That doesn’t make sense, unless she’s a crossover.”
She stopped before saying in a rush of words, “But if she were, look at how she bosses this crew, their organization, how they operate. Even why some of their equipment is the same. And that would make sense!”
Shanon brushed back a strand of wayward hair, saying in a reflective air, “I’ve heard of such things, of course, it’s just hard to realize that anyone would turn traitor, especially a Star Scout.”
Without it appearing too obvious how much her comment hurt, Dason lowered his eyes and brought a hand to his mouth.
Shanon couldn't see him biting hard on his lip. She didn’t know of course, about his father, and couldn’t know that her innocent remark tore at his insides as if the Torther Ape had sliced into his belly.
He kept his eyes down until Shanon asked, “Dason, have you noticed that the poachers stopped wearing their weapons?”
The change in conversation caught Dason off-guard, and it took him a second to shift mental gears. He thought about it before saying, “No, I guess I hadn’t noticed.”
Shanon bobbed her head and continued. “I didn’t see it at first myself. I’ve gotten so used to them carrying weapons aboard ship. But it caught my eye when I was with a work party moving stores in a lower-deck cargo hold.”
Dason gave a little shrug while saying, “I guess they don’t feel the need for the heavy hardware.”
Shanon turned her head to look at him. “That ape is still on board, remember? We haven’t been anywhere that they could offload the thing.”
“Don’t remind me,” Dason muttered.
“Sorry. But why would they go to all the extra precautions earlier to protect themselves and not now? Sure, the ship’s bigger, but I don’t see how the conditions have changed to warrant lower safeguards.”
“Maybe,” Dason offered, “they’ve got the ape so well contained that they don’t feel threatened anymore,”
Shanon gave him a sweet, knowing smile. He recognized that expression. Her brain was running at full speed, and he would be smart to pay attention. “Okay,” he replied, “I see you don’t buy it. What’s your idea?”
“I’m going to go snoop in the life-form holds. I want to know what they’ve done with that beastie.”
“Hold it, Shanon,” Dason replied in haste. “That’s pretty dicey. What if you get caught? Bianca could get real nasty. Worse yet, what if the ape grabbed you?”
Shanon tapped one finger to her lips. “Yes, it’s chancy. But I’m not going to get caught, either by Bianca or the ape.”
“Shanon, it’s not worth the risk.”
“Listen, Dason Thorne,” Shanon began in a firm manner, “you get your hunches—well, I get mine too. I’ve got a notion there’s something not quite right here. The crossover theory makes a lot of sense.
“But still, I have this nagging feeling that we’re missing something, as they say, there’s more here than meets the eye. And for some reason I think we need to get a good look at that ape.”
“Shanon,” Dason replied in a patient tone, “I got a good look at that thing, remember? Trust me, you don’t want to get up close and personal.”
Shanon shook her head. “Sorry, can’t scare me off. I’m going.”
“Okay,” he replied in resignation. “If that’s what it takes to satisfy you, I’ll go. You stay here and keep working.”
“Nope. My idea, I go.”
“I could make it an order,” Dason replied. “As you made clear earlier, I’m still the team leader.”
“Yes, you are,” she sniffed. “But you won’t because you know I’m right. Besides, you had your turn and look where it got you. But you can help.”
The fire in her eyes told Dason there was no use in arguing with the strong-willed young woman. He threw up his hands. “I’m going to lose this argument, aren’t I?”
“Like a peanut caught in a black hole. Besides that, you’re wasting time, so are you gonna help or do I have to do it all myself?”
Dason let out a long, throaty sigh. “This is wrong, Shanon, and I can’t believe I’m letting you do this but alright, what do you want me to do?”
“Cover for me. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I don’t want anyone to get suspicious. Can you handle that?”
“Sure,” Dason replied. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you headed down to the E-shop to get a replacement laser splitter for the sensor board, which we actually need, by the way.”
He took a deep breath and gazed at her. “Shanon, please be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. That ape plays rough and so does the Faction.”
“I will,” she replied. “And I’ll pick up the splitter on the way back.”
Shanon rose from the chair, and Dason rose with her. Their eyes met and Dason felt hypnotized. He couldn’t take his gaze away from her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes that seemed to draw him in closer and closer.
He could feel her soft breath, see the perfection of her pink lips, the hopeful smile that played across her beautiful features. Not sure what to do, Dason drew back just a bit.
Shanon murmured, “Dason, I’m a girl, not some Battaurian Death Wasp.”
The isolated farm lifestyle that he had lived on Randor made Dason’s experiences with girls all but nonexistent. He knew he liked girls, a lot—he just didn’t know how to act around them socially.
The pounding of his heart was so loud in his ears that he almost didn't hear Shanon ask with a little tease, “Don’t tell me that on your planet boys don’t like girls?”
Dason shook his head. “No, Randorian boys like girls.”
“And you?” she asked.
Dason's hands were cold, and the conversation had turned very uncomfortable. “I like girls just fine, just never had much time for them. We lived pretty far out from town, and there weren’t any girls close by and with my chores and school . . .”
Shanon put a finger to his mouth and leaned in close. “You talk too much.”
She took her finger away and laughed huskily. Dason loved her melodious laugh, now it seemed to flow over him in warm, soothing waves.
Her eyes had grown soft, and she wore a look of expectancy. He moved his face toward hers and noticed that her breathing came faster—but so did his.
Just as their lips were about to touch, a voice blasted over the ship’s internal communicator, “Stinger Six! Sta
tus report!” the disembodied speaker demanded.
Dason jumped back and hit his head on the bulkhead. Shanon brought a hand to her mouth and laughed. Dason hit the comms-switch. “Moving along quite well until you interrupted,” Dason snapped.
“Good,” the voice replied. “Status?”
Dason rolled his eyes and stared at the overhead. “We need to replace the laser splitter on the interface between the M and S-boards; diagnostic shows it’s running about point zero two degrees off-center.”
“Don’t try to repair it yourself, run it down to parts, get a new one and install it right away.”
“Roger,” Dason replied and ran a hand through his hair.
He glanced over at Shanon, who dimpled, and shrugged. “Sorry, but I gotta go.” She gave a little wave and headed out of the scouter.
Watching her go, Dason slapped at the pilot’s chair, letting the sim-leather take the brunt of his frustration. He stopped as a sudden, suspicious thought hit him.
Glancing around the scouter and at the overhead, he tried to spot any hidden eye-spies.
He didn’t see any, but still, was that just an inopportune interruption or had someone timed it for just that moment?
Chapter Thirty
Star Date 2433.059
Aboard The Queen Bee
Pacing in her small stateroom, both arms folded across her chest, Bianca was deep in thought. Stygar Six had been a very close call in more ways than one with the ship hulled and she, Jy and the two scouts almost meeting death in an acid lake.
Not that she was new to having close calls, but to owe her escape, and her life, to a novice Star Scout was quite new in her experience and put her in a reflective mood.
She was in his debt, but she had to be careful not to let this one action outweigh her overall decisions. She had a job to do, and couldn’t let personal feelings interfere in any way.
Too much was at stake for that.
Her ship now sped through the darkness of hyperspace, hours out from Stygar and headed for Canopus.
Their jaw-clenching ascent through Stygar’s treacherous outer atmosphere had gone without incident, and they had managed to avoid another collision with the whirling and frenetic space rocks that surrounded the stark and barren planet.
