“If anyone does anything wrong,” the phony captain threatened, “I’ll punish all of you.”
“Kill him,” several people chanted.
Reaching under his tunic, Steiner’s fingers tightened around the handle of his AT-7.
“Don’t do anything yet, Jake,” Suzanne pleaded. “They’re just fooling around.”
Louis Rathen, one of the pilots she had briefed him about, jumped onto the counter. The audience went wild as he bowed. “Time to die,” he bellowed at the other actor. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a pistol.
Steiner sprang to his feet and stormed through the crowd, shoving convicts out of his path. Somewhere behind him, he heard Suzanne shouting for him to stop.
Louis Rathen pretended to shoot his gun. The “captain” grabbed his chest and fell into the raised arms of nearby patrons. When the mob lowered the actor to the ground, Steiner greeted the man with an uppercut to the jaw. Rage constricted the faces of all the spectators. When Steiner whipped out his AT-7, they backed away.
Louis Rathen stood motionless on the counter, staring down in apparent bewilderment.
With a powerful swipe of his free hand, Steiner knocked the pilot’s feet out from under him, sending him crashing down against the hard surface. While Rathen was still dazed, Steiner whisked the pistol from his grasp.
“Jake,” Suzanne screamed.
Steiner spun around in time to see a convict grab her by the wrist and rip her hat off.
“It’s a woman,” the man exclaimed.
Steiner aimed both gun muzzles, causing everyone in their sights to drop to the ground. “Let her go,” he ordered, then squeezed the triggers. Energy bolts dug into the table right next to the man holding Suzanne, shattering all the glass mugs on it.
The convict released her and threw up his hands.
Silence engulfed the room as all eyes fixed on Steiner. “I’m your new captain,” he shouted. “I won’t be as easy to kill as Barker.”
Suzanne stepped through the gathering, giving him an irritated glare.
“I expect all of you to be cleaned up for the launch tomorrow,” he bellowed at the men.
After handing the confiscated pistol to Suzanne, he yanked Rathen off the counter and dragged him toward the exit. A path split apart for them as they passed through the crowd. Before leaving the establishment, he took a last look at his future crew, making sure they didn’t make any sudden moves. They appeared too surprised to do anything but gape. Behind the counter, Bricket’s bearded face grinned with pleasure.
Steiner led his prisoner some distance from the bar, then shoved him up against the bulkhead. “Where did you get a pistol?”
“I can’t remember.”
Steiner pressed the barrel of his AT-7 into Rathen’s nostrils. “Since I’m a convict, too, it wouldn’t make much difference if I burned your head off right now.”
“One of the visiting technicians sold it to me,” the pilot blurted out.
“How many more weapons are on board?”
“I don’t know—maybe a dozen.”
Steiner leered at Suzanne. “So much for your tight security.”
She ignored the remark. “What are you going to do to him?”
“Throw him off this ship as an example to the others.”
“You need three pilots. How am I going to find a replacement by tomorrow?”
“Can you enlist anyone?”
“Just about. Why?”
“I know a pilot.”
CHAPTER 6
“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” Mason said as he looked out a window at the docked P.A.V. “A Peacemaker. They haven’t made one of these in about thirty years. We’ll be outmatched by every vessel we encounter.”
As Steiner expected, Suzanne responded immediately with her defense. “As I pointed out to you earlier, Mr. Mason, you won’t be required to engage any enemy craft. Your missions will only be of an information-gathering nature.”
“Oh, I forgot. We’re pirates, working for the U.S.S.” Suzanne rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath.
Steiner hadn’t been surprised that Mason had joined the program. The man probably would have done anything to escape his mundane prison life.
Sam pressed his face against the transparent glass. “What’s it like traveling through phased space?”
“You’ve never experienced the fifth dimension?” Mason asked.
The teenager’s eyes widened as the pilot exaggerated about interphasing in order to traverse the galaxy at greater speeds than physically possible. Mason emphasized the need for highly skilled hoppers, like himself, to make sure that they didn’t collide with anything along the way.
Steiner smiled, amused by Sam’s innocent excitement. When he had visited Atwood to enlist Mason, he had never intended to bring Sam along. But the boy had begged to come, and suddenly it had seemed like a sort of solution since the alternative was leaving him behind at Big Al’s mercy. Besides, Jake needed a friend he could trust.
Suzanne drew Steiner back from his fellow shipmates. “How do you know Rick Mason is any good at space piloting? When I did a background check on him, I came up empty.”
“The stories he told in prison were too technical to have been made up,” Steiner replied. “He even described some of the captains perfectly.”
“Can you trust him?”
“More than Tramer.”
The retort earned a glare from Suzanne. “Let’s go. Your meeting with your crew is in fifteen minutes.” She started down the corridor.
Steiner called Mason and Sam from the window, then led them after her.
Three station personnel passed by in the opposite direction, eyeing Steiner and his convict friends with looks of disgust. Steiner ignored them. He expected this kind of behavior from other military personnel.
Mason scratched his neck. “Regardless of what that old medicine man told us, I can still feel that piece of circuitry he shot into me.”
“It’s your imagination,” Suzanne said from the front. “The tracers are painless.”
“That’s what you think, Legs,” Mason replied.
“Get used to it, Shorty,” she shot back.
Mason grinned. “A beauty with a mouth.”
Suzanne stopped at the security checkpoint for the docking tube.
A young male guard saluted.
“Has the vessel remained secure during the night?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. All the prisoners are accounted for.”
The way the guard answered her aroused Steiner’s suspicions. He stepped forward. “Has anyone gone on board?”
The guard didn’t even acknowledge him but kept his attention focused on Suzanne.
“Did you let someone pass?” Suzanne repeated his question.
The guard hesitated. “A technician went through earlier this morning to retrieve a tool. He only took a minute.”
Suzanne flushed. “I explicitly told you no one goes on or off without my permission.”
The young man stiffened. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Did the technician have anything on him?” Steiner asked.
The guard ignored him again.
Steiner reached over, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him half over the desk. “Answer me, now.”
“The security sensors didn’t detect anything,” the man stammered.
When Steiner released his hold, the guard drew his sidearm. Steiner slapped the weapon from the young man’s hand. It clattered across the floor.
“At ease, Private,” Suzanne shouted. “I’ll handle it from here.”
The guard scowled at her as he picked up his pistol and departed.
“With security like that, no wonder half the convicts are already armed,” Steiner grumbled.
“Why did you do that, Jake?” Suzanne shouted. “Nothing gives you the right—”
“While we were at Atwood, I got the impression the warden was stalling us,” he cut her off. “I think thi
s technician might be the reason.”
“You think Ralph sent him?”
“Of course—who else? I want my gun back.”
“Not until we get on board.”
“I don’t want you coming with us.”
Her countenance darkened. “If you’re worried about my safety, don’t bother.”
“That wasn’t my concern. If I’m going to succeed, I need to portray myself as a strong leader. Having my superior with me might tarnish that image.”
She glanced over at Mason and Sam, watching a few feet away, then nodded. “You win.” She extracted a holster with an AT-7 from her handbag. “Just don’t kill anyone yet.” As she handed the belt to him, she kissed his cheek. “Keep in touch.”
Steiner strapped on the pistol. “If you don’t hear from me, it means I’m dead.”
Suzanne frowned. “Your crew is better than you think.”
Steiner beckoned Mason and Sam to follow him into the docking tube. When they were all inside, Suzanne wished them well, then closed the entrance.
Steiner walked in silence through the transparent tunnel, gazing out at the old ship he was about to board. During last night’s visit, his disguise had offered some protection. Today, the gold-and-silver rank emblems on his black jacket made him a target. When he focused on his reflection in the heavy glass, he was reminded of the way corpses were dressed up before being laid in their coffins.
“Did I understand you and Legs correctly?” Mason asked. “Is someone still gunning for you?”
“That’s why I got this,” Steiner said, as his hand slapped the holstered AT-7.
“Just make sure I don’t get caught in the middle.”
As he stepped into the P.A.V.’s air lock, Steiner pulled out Suzanne’s computer pad and searched for the password to open the interior hatch. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.” He punched the designated code into a keypad. A gush of air blew into his face, forcing him to blink, as the door slid aside.
The bright interior lighting blazed into the darkened air lock, stinging Steiner’s eyes. Despite the luminance, the ship’s walls appeared bleak and colorless. Steiner stepped on board hesitantly and looked around. The three branching passageways were empty, but voices and noises echoed from deep within them.
After sealing both hatches to the air lock, Steiner led Mason and Sam toward the heart of the vessel. Steiner’s throat felt as dry as the air flowing out of the ventilation ducts. He caressed the inviting handgrip of his AT-7.
He tensed when he saw two crew members turn the corner toward them. They talked casually, then froze upon seeing Steiner. They stood at attention and saluted. When Steiner returned the gesture, the men continued walking by, casting a couple of curious glances behind until they disappeared down the junction by the air lock.
Steiner exhaled with relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he expected. The scorched walls reminded him otherwise.
When Steiner rounded a junction leading toward the cafeteria, he stopped just short of running into a seven-foot-tall metallic mass. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he looked into the two eyes staring down at him. One, a human ocular cavity, gray and lifeless, the other, a glowing blue sensor orb. They were centered on a grotesquely deformed head, half-covered with apparatuses. The facial tissue was deathly pale and scarred, overlapping in areas where it had been sewn together. The arms and legs were entirely mechanical, fashioned to resemble oversized human appendages. A polished breastplate hid the body’s torso from view. Small see-through gaps protruded through the servos and gyrating components around the metallic pelvis frame. The scent of something like embalming fluid and rot hung in the air.
Mason spat a curse under his breath.
Steiner had seen pictures of this “thing,” but they couldn’t prepare him for the utter terror he experienced standing next to it.
“Captain Steiner?” The blackish lips moved, but the synthesized voice emanated from a device embedded in the neck.
Steiner fought to keep his voice from betraying any fear.
“Yes. Are you Tramer?”
The hideous face remained an expressionless mask. “I am he.”
He? Steiner repeated to himself. How could it possibly think it was a man or even close to one? This monstrosity was an “it,” never a “he.”
“Hi. I’m Sam.” The boy stepped forward, extending a hand.
Tiny motors whined as Tramer’s head tilted down to look at the boy. Mason pulled Sam back. The blue sensor orb rose to shine at Steiner once again. “Captain,” the disembodied voice said. “Your officers have assembled in the cafeteria.”
“Inform them that I will be there shortly,” Steiner replied.
Mechanisms inside the cyborg’s body danced to life, turning it around in preparation to depart.
Steiner clenched his fists. How could Suzanne have possibly thought that this was the person that had once worked with them on the Valiant? It looked and acted nothing like the man he once knew. Despite its previous murders, Steiner refused to be afraid of it. If it killed him, too, he would be with Mary again.
“Tramer,” Steiner shouted, before the cyborg got far.
A hum emanated from a joint in the mechanical man’s hips as its entire torso pivoted around to face him. The unnatural stance further testified that it was only a machine.
“You forgot to salute,” Steiner said.
Mason cringed like a trapped animal ready to flee.
One of Tramer’s metallic arms rose, its spiny, clawlike fingers lining together before reaching the top of the disfigured head. The legs began moving, drawing the backward-facing body away. The torso spun to its forward position as it continued down the corridor. In a few seconds, the thuds of its heavy footsteps faded into the distance.
“Please don’t tell me Gruesome is part of the crew,” Mason growled.
“Our weapons officer,” Steiner answered.
Mason’s gaze burned. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier before I agreed to come on board?”
“I don’t want Tramer here any more than you do, but I didn’t have a choice. It was Suzanne’s idea.”
“Of course it was, since she won’t be cruising the galaxy with it.”
“Don’t worry,” Steiner said, motioning them forward again. “I’ve already made plans to get rid of it.”
Steiner followed the path that the cyborg had taken, each step bringing him closer to that monstrosity. A cold, forbidding feeling began to invade his soul. Death awaited him just ahead.
When they arrived at the doorway to the cafeteria, Sam started off by himself. “Since I’m not an officer, I’m going to do some exploring.”
“Why don’t you wait until one of us can join you?” Steiner asked.
“I can take care of myself.” With that, Sam tramped away.
Steiner was tempted to chase after him but held back.
“He’s tough,” Mason said. “He’ll be fine.”
I hope so, Steiner thought, entering the cafeteria. He winced as he passed Tramer, who stood along the inside wall. He doubted he would ever become accustomed to its hideous appearance.
The dining area was similar to the one at Atwood, about a hundred feet long and sixty wide. An adjoining kitchen lay on the opposite side, oversized pots and pans hanging from ceiling hooks.
Seven other officers sat alone, scattered about long, rectangular tables with attached benches. Their sitting positions confirmed how much work it would take for Steiner to teach them to think as a unified group. He called them all forward to a single table at the head of the room. When the men had moved to the selected seats, Steiner glanced over at Tramer, who hadn’t budged from its position by the door. He wasn’t about to invite it closer. He wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.
“I’m Captain Jacob Steiner,” he said to the convicts gathered around the table. “Please introduce yourselves and tell what position you hold.”
The gray-haired hit man rose first. “I’m Phi
llip Daniels, the head engineer.”
“How many are in your staff?” Steiner asked, trying to keep his gaze from drifting to the cyborg’s glaring sensor orb.
“Seven, including myself.”
“How long would it take to complete a visual survey of all the vital systems?”
“Half an hour. Is there a problem?”
“An intruder came aboard this morning. I want to make sure nothing has been tampered with.”
“I’ll make sure everything is checked before we depart.” Daniels sounded too eager to please. Steiner wondered what the head engineer might be secretly planning.
The bartender tapped his cane against the floor and grinned. “Bricket’s my name. I’m the senior computer specialist, and I also moonlight as the keeper of the well.”
Steiner nodded.
A lean, muscular man with a mustache that bulged out over his upper lip came to his feet. “Benjamin Richards, chief of security.” Steiner remembered how proud Suzanne had been when she had told him about her choice of Richards. The man was a former police officer, convicted for beating information out of his prisoners. He held belts in three different forms of martial arts.
“These are my assistants in charge of keeping the peace,” Richards said, signaling for two men to rise. “Larry Hulsey and Eddie the Giant.”
An average man of five and a half feet, Hulsey was small-boned, built for quick mobility. At first glance, he looked like a college student on the honor roll, but this seemingly harmless man had teeth. He had gunned down three drug dealers because they had overdosed his girlfriend. Steiner recalled his amazement when Suzanne had told him it had taken a SWAT team to capture Hulsey.
Towering over his colleagues at nearly seven feet, Eddie was a former professional wrestler, in prison for raping a senator’s daughter. His dark-skinned arms rippled with muscles twice the size of Steiner’s. The mountainous swells of his chest stretched his uniform to the limits, but farther down, his contour narrowed into an overhanging stomach. Even out of shape, he looked like he could easily fight three people at a time.
“Weapons have been smuggled aboard, gentlemen,” Steiner told them. “Your job will be to search out and confiscate any weapons on the ship.”
Prison Ship Page 5
