Mary sighed. “I will always cherish those memories, but—”
Before she could finish, he kissed her lips. During the caress, Mary remained stiff and unyielding. Steiner drew back. He felt the burning sensation of a single tear running down his face. “I love you.”
Mary sniffed. Her eyes glistened with forming tears as she shook her head. “You’re infatuated with me, but you don’t love me selflessly. I doubt you ever did.”
The words stirred Steiner’s memory. He’d had this same discussion with Mary on the day she had left for her parents’. He remembered finding her note on the kitchen table, rushing to the shuttle depot, and stopping her there to make a final plea. Every word spoken had been exactly the same as that fateful day. Perhaps the pain of losing her in the shuttle explosion had blocked out the reason why she had boarded the craft to begin with. She died while trying to run away from him.
Steiner glanced down at her swollen stomach. “What about our child?”
“I’ll notify you if I go into labor early. I don’t think you should miss the birth of your own child, even if the military threatens to court-martial you.” She lifted his left hand and kissed the white-gold ring on his finger. “I still love you. Maybe we can try it again after a few months.” She backed away toward the shuttle on the launching pad, touching his hand with hers until her fingers lost contact.
The scene dissolved instantaneously before Steiner could do anything else. He saw a glimpse of a flashing gold medallion spinning above him. A gun fired. Steiner experienced a brief moment of weightlessness before landing against a cold, hard surface.
WITH one fluid motion, Daniels grabbed an assault rifle from the nearest mutineer, then used it to sever the medallion’s ribbon.
Steiner dropped to the ground in a heap. For a second, he appeared lifeless. Much to Daniels’s relief, Steiner’s head moved and he gave a barely audible moan.
“Everyone put your hands in the air, and you won’t get hurt,” Daniels shouted.
“You can’t shoot us all,” one of the eight men replied.
“No, but who wants to be the first to fall?” Daniels aimed at the speaker. “You?”
Quinn walked forward. “You won’t kill anyone.”
“Why not?” Daniels replied. “I’ve killed before.” He lowered his tone to the most threatening level.
Quinn shook his head. “I doubt you could do it now, even in self-defense. You no longer see your victims as flesh and bone. You see their souls.”
“Stop. I’m warning you.”
“Or what? You’ll gun me down?” Quinn stepped closer.
Sweat dripped down Daniels’s forehead. Within his mind, he could see the woman giving him her Bible just before her life seeped away. He remembered swearing never to take another life. He couldn’t bring himself to break that vow. His hand trembled. I forgive you, the lady had told him. Even though she had pardoned him, he had never let himself be free from the guilt.
Quinn snatched the rifle away. “Fool. Your belief in the supernatural was your downfall. If you wish to meet your god so badly, here’s your chance.” He swung the barrel around.
Daniels dropped to his knees. “I forgive you.” In that instant, he realized how the woman had felt when she had died. That had been her testimony, and this was to be his. Perhaps it would change Quinn’s life as it had his own. “I forgive you,” he repeated, weeping tears of joy.
Quinn hesitated in apparent disbelief. Daniels thought he saw doubt in the man’s eyes. Doubt about what he was doing. Doubt about what he had become. A second later, the look vanished, replaced by the iciness of a hardened heart. The crossroads had been passed, the choice made. Quinn’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“Travis,” one of the other men shouted, “the captain’s gone.”
Daniels glanced to spot where Steiner had lain. Only a belt remained.
Quinn sprang to a console, felt along the top of it, and muttered something about a missing disk. He screamed in rage, shooting fiery bolts into the ceiling, then dashed down the corridor leading to the electrical station.
JULIO inched around the giant hole in the floor of the corridor that had resulted from the overload of the laser cannon. When he looked through the smoldering gape, he could see a pile of rubble and debris mounted in the center of a storage compartment one level down. Vengeance burned within Julio to repay Rick and the bartender for what they had done to Glenn and Dicer.
He glanced back at Wong and Stiles trailing behind him. Could he trust either one of them, especially after the fiasco he had just survived?
Julio tensed when he saw the double doors to the command center ajar. Right away, he sensed another trap. His eyes sought out even the smallest movement ahead.
He led the others up the stairway to the top deck and scanned the room with the muzzle of his rifle. Stiles descended into the navigational quarters, reappearing a second later, shaking his head.
Julio raced down the stairwell and into the captain’s conference chamber. He discovered the entrance locked shut. A muffled cry sounded within.
Julio backed away then fired repeatedly at the door. The bolts tore away at the barrier, ripping it into charred shreds. When he burst through the wreckage, he found the chair behind the desk turned away from him. Blood flowed from smoking punctures in the back of it. He swiveled it around and found Simmons’s lifeless face gaping up at him. The navigator had been bound and gagged.
Mechanical components lay scattered on the floor everywhere, along with Palmer’s body.
“Sanchez, is there anyone down there?” Wong’s voice echoed down from the top deck.
“No,” Julio answered. “I found Simmons. He’s dead. There’s no sign of Rick Mason or the bartender anywhere.”
Wong came down into the chamber. “They must have doubled back, trying to escape from us.”
“I’ll find them,” Julio said, his need for revenge still aching.
Wong picked up one of the pieces of machinery from the ground. “This looks like part of the communication grid.”
Just then, Julio realized where the defenders were.
CAREFUL not to make any noise, Mason removed the maintenance cover for the communication station that Bricket had stripped to provide a hiding place. He snuck up behind one of the raiders, who stared down into the stairwell.
“Stiles,” Julio shouted from below, “they’re hidden inside the instrument panels.”
Stiles turned around just as Mason pounced on him. Mason gripped the barrel of Stiles’s rifle and thrust it downward. A blaze of energy ignited into the floor. He wrestled for control of the weapon, but Stiles held it firm. Mason reached down with his left hand, drew his pistol, and fired point-blank into Stiles’s face.
Footsteps sounded from the stairwell behind him.
Mason’s adrenaline pumped fiercely. He wrenched the rifle free from the dead body’s grasp and whirled around, but not before Julio reached the top. Before Julio could fire, a computer panel flew open, and a cane slammed against his helmet. He tumbled back into Wong. They collapsed in a pile of arms and legs at the bottom of the stairwell.
Mason rushed down after them, pointing the muzzle of his rifle in their faces.
“Give me your weapons or die.”
Julio surrendered his with a curse. Wong hesitated, then obeyed.
“Rick,” Bricket shouted from the main deck, “we’ve got problems up here.”
With both of the captive rifles in hand, Mason ascended toward the main deck. “What’s wrong?”
The bartender didn’t have to tell him. When Mason reached the top of the steps, through the forward viewport, he noticed the enemy battlecruiser approaching.
CHAPTER 26
JACOB Steiner stumbled down the empty corridor as quickly as his injured leg would take him. When he had first opened his eyes after landing on the cold floor, only one goal shone in his mind: destroy the Orders disk at any cost. While Quinn’s attention had been diverted by Daniels, he had wre
stled his hands free from the belt, crawled up to the edge of the console, and snatched the silver wafer. He slipped into the corridor leading to the electrical station. He didn’t have time to worry about what would happen to Daniels. Above all, the stolen military information had to be erased.
Steiner stopped at the base of the maintenance stairway, where the charred ruins of Richards’s defensive barrier still stood. A hundred feet above, flashes from electrical bursts escaped over the edge of the scarred balcony. If he could increase the voltage through the conductor posts up there, it would disintegrate anything at close range.
A rapid series of rifle blasts sounded deep inside the corridor behind him.
Steiner carefully maneuvered up the twisted steps at the base of the stairway, then took the rest of the undamaged ones in giant leaps that brought great pain to his wounded limb. If he landed wrong just once, he might tumble down to the bottom, but there was no longer time to be cautious. Quinn must already be on his trail. Steiner couldn’t afford to be caught on the stairway, out in the—
“Captain.” Quinn’s voice echoed from the chamber below.
Six steps separated Steiner from the safety of the generating station. He might be able to make it. One of his feet missed its mark. He fell forward against the metal slabs. Bolts ate away at the wall above him. The fall had been a blessing in disguise. If he’d been standing, he would’ve been killed.
The wound in his thigh throbbed. A glimpse behind saw Quinn racing up to the base of the stairway. Steiner knew he could never reach the top in time, so he spun around and crawled backward, holding the disk out in front of him as a shield. Quinn leveled his rifle but didn’t fire. That was all Steiner needed. With a cry of determination, he catapulted himself up onto the balcony and rolled clear. Explosions from near misses reverberated in his ears.
FILLED with an inner peace he had never experienced before, Daniels raised his gaze and saw J.R. look through the hole in Pressure Door C-3. The seven mutineers were so preoccupied with what to do with him that they hadn’t considered where the rest of the engineers might be. Spider moved into view, pointed to an extinguisher strapped to his back, then at the captors.
Daniels gave a slight nod. His friends intended to attack with the fire equipment. If they stood a chance of success, they would need a diversion.
He fixed his gaze on the two closest armed men. In his mind, he mapped out a precise attack, anticipating their responses. In the next instant, he jumped up and charged at his targets with his arms outstretched. Their eyes bulged. Gun muzzles rose. Before either of them had a chance to fire, he body-blocked both of them, grabbing ahold of their pistols as he made contact. The three of them toppled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. He rolled off his stunned victims and was on his feet in the next second, brandishing both weapons.
Another mutineer lifted a rifle, but Spider shot him in the face with a stream of foam before he could discharge any bolts. The blinded convict stumbled backward, coughing and gagging.
Armed with extinguishers, the four other engineers stormed into the room and soaked the rest of the men.
STEINER limped through an aisle of sparking conductor posts toward the opposite end of the generating station, where the power-distribution board lay. He glanced back to see if Quinn had climbed to the top of the stairway yet. The man hadn’t, but he soon would.
Steiner knew his only chance was to hide. He hunched down behind the bulk of one of the nearby machines and listened to the sound of his own ragged breathing.
In his mind, he recalled the scene with Mary in the shuttle depot. She had left him exactly the same way as she had on February 18, 2429. He couldn’t believe he had blinded himself to the truth for the last seven years. The guilt tried to resurface. He forced it from his mind. He must focus all of his effort into saving the U.S.S.
A loud metallic noise set his nerves on edge. He peeked over the top of his hiding place as it repeated. Quinn was proceeding through the aisles, banging the muzzle of his assault rifle against various assemblies.
Steiner slumped to the ground, ready to give up. It seemed hopeless. How would he be able to destroy the disk before Quinn killed him? He was unarmed and wounded.
A flash of lightning cast his shadow into the aisle. He repositioned himself so that wouldn’t occur again.
He glanced up at a sparking conductor above him and understood what he needed to do next. He inched up to the fence surrounding it, stretched his arm through the mesh, and placed the silver wafer at the base of its post. If he could just reach the power-distribution board, he could thrust the control bar up, and the U.S.S. would be saved.
He prepared himself for his desperate charge by tightening the bloody piece of cloth tied around his leg. His mind blocked out the pain and fear. Even the threat of death would not hold him back. All his energy would be focused on one final run.
A glimpse over the side found Quinn standing in a far aisle. The man’s dark gaze locked on Steiner, who barely ducked in time before a bolt tore into the top of his shelter.
Rapid footsteps approached.
Steiner’s charge had been foiled before it had even begun.
With his head low, he retreated between fences and other apparatuses, fleeing deeper into the maze of electrical machinery. The static discharges around him masked the sounds of his passage.
In his haste, his shoulder clipped the side of a component. A burning sensation flung him to the ground. He picked himself up, stunned. Whatever he had hit had been charged enough to remind him to be more careful in here. Another mistake like that might cost him his life.
He risked another look and sighted Quinn at his former hiding place. It seemed almost unthinkable, but while mighty space battles were being waged, the outcome of the war would be decided by their two-man game of cat and mouse.
Steiner weaved back through the maze of assemblies until he reached an aisle that led to the glimmering power-distribution board thirty feet away.
Sweat trickled down his brow as he sprinted toward his objective, determined to reach it before dying.
Less than ten feet away, his left foot landed wrong. He lost his balance and tumbled onto the unyielding metal surface, three feet shy of the board.
A laugh erupted behind him.
The game had ended.
THE New Order battlecruiser glided forward, slowing until it stood nose to nose with the Marauder. Its massive form occupied most of the forward screen in the command center. Printed on the side of its hull was the name WARLORD.
Mason closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again he would discover that this was a nightmare of his darkest imagination. His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. It comforted him slightly, distracting him from building nausea.
“Enemy vessel, surrender, and prepare to be boarded,” someone announced over the speakers.
Mason cringed at the sound of the voice. He turned and locked eyes with the pale bartender. There would be no escape for either of them.
Mason beat the helm in frustration. “This can’t be happening—I won’t let it.”
He stormed toward the weapons console. If the Warlord wanted an answer, he would give them one. Then he noticed a pistol aimed at him from inside the stairwell. He froze in midstride.
Wong stepped up to the main deck, keeping the gun trained on him. A spare gun must have been hidden inside his suit. “Drop your rifle,” the fat man demanded, climbing to the main deck.
Mason released his weapon, cursing himself for not bothering to frisk his prisoners. How could he have been so foolish?
“Travis Quinn?” the voice from the Warlordasked. “If you have secured the vessel, please give a response.”
“Pilot,” Wong said to Mason. “Flash the ship’s running lights.”
“Never.”
“Do it, or I’ll cut you down.”
Mason held himself back.
Wong’s face turned crimson. “If that’s your decision, so be it.”
A shadow moved inside the stairwell. Julio Sanchez appeared, grabbing Wong from behind. “Separatist scum,” he hissed. Jewels glittered from the handle of the dagger in his hand. He thrust the white of the blade into a gap between Wong’s armor pads.
Crying out in pain, the fat man swung his pistol into his assailant and fired it twice. Sanchez’s bloodied face sank back into the stairwell.
Mason rushed at Wong, but the fat man’s gun muzzle greeted him. An orange beam blazed in front of Mason’s face, causing all of his nerves to jolt. Wong dropped to the deck, his head sliced open.
Mason collapsed to his knees in shock.
Bricket stood to the side, holding a smoking rifle. “I never did like him much.”
“Neither did I.”
Putting the rifle down, Bricket glared at the forward viewer. “What do we do about them?”
With a new strength of will, Mason sprang to his feet and hastened to the weapons console.
Bricket’s mouth fell open. “You’re going to attack?”
Mason found a functional automatic turret and locked its targeting computer on the Warlord. “I’ll never surrender to my own father.”
“Admiral Richina?” Bricket gasped.
“The one and only.” Mason brought a clenched fist down on the firing keypad.
“WHERE’S the Orders disk, Captain?” Quinn asked in an almost playful manner.
Faint discharges sounded from the pulse-cannon assembly. Steiner’s breath caught in his lungs. Someone in the command center must be firing at another ship. The Separatists must have arrived to receive the military information.
“Captain?” Quinn asked.
“I destroyed it already,” Steiner replied.
Quinn’s eyebrows rose in a mocking manner. “How were you able to do that so quickly?” His head tilted toward the sparking conductors behind him as if in answer to his own question. “Perhaps it’s hidden up here somewhere?”
Steiner’s heart stopped. Quinn had figured out the truth. It wouldn’t be long until he found the disk. He had to make a desperate play.
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