But he got control of his stomach and forced himself back to the situation at hand. He pulled away from the display, slapping his hand on the controls to switch off the streaming images. He stood up from his chair, crowing at the deaths of so many of the pirate soldiers. Eamonn even allowed himself to dance a little jig in exultation. Once he had finished, he went to the port and stared out at the tachyon wash over the shields as the ship continued on course.
Several hours later, the hammering on the door started again. Eamonn, startled out of a sound sleep, the most sound sleep he’d had since his ship had been taken, angrily threw his covers aside and climbed out of his bed. He zipped into the shipsuit he’d draped over the chair and pulled on his boots. He hustled to the door and keyed it open.
Once the hatch opened, however, he was not greeted by an irate member of his crew, there to bitch him out yet again. No, he was staring down the barrels of a pair of assault rifles, held by a pair of enraged pirate soldiers, decked out in their body armor and helmets. They weren’t wearing power armor, but the garb they had would stop a bullet or two. And the rifles they bore were no joke. His anger immediately burned away to be replaced with icy fear in his belly.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked lamely.
“Move,” one of them ordered, twitching his weapon fractionally, to indicate Eamonn should exit his quarters. He quickly did so, keeping his hands clearly in the open, hopefully giving the two soldiers no excuses to shoot him in the back.
“Where are we going?” he asked after a while. They walked down the corridors of the ship and when they came to junctions where they wanted him to turn, one of them would grunt or would poke him with the barrel of his rifle to indicate direction.
“Shut up,” one of the guards ordered, jamming the end of his weapon into Eamonn’s back, hard. “You don’t speak.”
Eamonn stopped, turning to face them. “I am the captain of this ship-…” he began.
But the pirate guard only barked an angry laugh. “You’re the captain so long as Armsman Jax allows you to be.” He stepped forward, putting his ugly scarred face right up to Eamonn’s, glaring pugnaciously. “And the longer you waste time arguing out here in the corridor, the more likely I am to shoot you and take my lashes from the Armsman for being bad. I know he’s not going to mourn your death.”
The captain’s eyes widened at the bald-faced threat. Without another word, he turned and started walking again. “So where are we going?”
“Cargo bay two,” the man replied, as the two guards kept pace with him.
Eamonn started. “Cargo bay two? The pirate workout area?”
One of the men emitted a dangerous growl, but neither of them answered his question. He was unsure if they knew if he knew about what had happened there. But Eamonn didn’t actually know how the bay had been depressurized and vented out into space. It was unlikely that it was an error and the way that these two were acting, clearly there was a deliberate act of sabotage by the crew. A sinking sensation was spreading as Eamonn thought about this further. But it was too late at that point to think any further, as they had arrived at the cargo bay.
He gasped and rushed forward as he entered the cavernous cargo hold. The doors had been secured again and the bay aired back up. But it wasn’t the secured room that made his mouth dry up and his heart thunder against his ribcage. He only made it three steps before the guards behind him grabbed him by the shoulder and muscled him back. He fought them, but they were too strong. One of them punched him in the jaw; it seemed as though their favorite tactic to subdue an individual was to hit him. It had the beauty of simplicity.
Eamonn’s head swam from the blow to the head, but a second later he recovered. A rough shove from behind propelled him forward and he stumbled and nearly fell. A few clumsy steps later allowed him to regain his footing and he brought himself back up to his full height, walking proudly forward into the cargo bay, his head held high. He didn’t know what the pirates, or more specifically, the Armsman had in mind in here, but he knew that whatever it was, he, Eamonn, wasn’t going to like it.
The ice in his stomach changed almost immediately to acid. Quite a number of his crew were here in the cargo bay, as were six of the pirate soldiers, not including the two shoving him from behind just now. Armsman Gideon Jax was there as well, but his customary smug smile was gone from his face. He looked as though he was a container of barely controlled fury. It didn’t, however, look as though he was upset to be here in the room and nor did he appear to want to leave.
“Good, you’re here,” Jax said, speaking to the captain without preamble. “You will bear witness. You all will,” he barked, raising his voice to the room at large, though everyone was very close nearby. There was no way anyone could fail to hear him, even those crewmen who appeared to have been roughed up on their way in here.
The crew stood in a rough line and more than a few of them showed cuts and scratches or swelling from soon to be very colorful bruises. The zheen in the group didn’t show much in the way of injury; their carapace was hard enough to protect against a lot of damage. But all were clearly anxious and afraid of what the enraged Armsman was going to do, for he wouldn’t have brought them all here just to make a speech. And if he was going to address the crew, they all suspected that more of them would have been herded in here.
“That bitch of an engineer…” Jax began, grinding his teeth, “Murdered twenty-four of my men. Murdered them in cold blood while they were here, in this very cargo bay. She just opened the doors and blew them out into the void.” He closed his mouth and simply seethed for a long moment. The crewmen in the room all exchanged nervous glances. The Captain tried to take a step forward, but the guards at his back grabbed hold of his arms and pulled him back. One of the stuck his sidearm into the Captain’s ribs.
“You get to stay right here,” he warned. “Armsman already said you get to bear witness. You don’t get to participate.” Eamonn struggled, tried to break free but they held him fast. “No, no, boy. You get to watch.”
“No!” Eamonn shouted, pulling hard against them. It was a futile effort, they were simply too strong for him. “No!”
“I cannot let that stand,” Jax said angrily, though it was clear he was playing for an audience not currently present. Even through his desperation, Eamonn swiveled his head around, looking for whatever it was that the pirate was speaking to. Then he saw it. The internal security cameras that were pointed right at them. He was obviously broadcasting this farce to the whole ship.
Tamara sat in the security office, her left arm encased in a regen tube filled with the healing solution for her broken arm. It was only a centimeter or so larger in diameter than her arm, sealed off just below her elbow, bonded to the skin so as to prevent any leaking of fluid. The tube went up over and covered her fingers, but it was a cylindrical and smooth surface. Her whole hand was under the clear plastic, so she no longer had the use of that hand. Not that she would have anyway, what with the broken bone. Turan had set the bone and the regen tube acted as a splint. She’d be wearing it for a week and then she’d start therapy. By then, the solution would have worked its magic and her arm would be restored. A couple of days of physical therapy and she’d be as good as new. Once she was released from sickbay, her two guards “escorted” her out of there and to the security office. She had a show to watch.
The regen tube had a large manacle welded onto it. There was a band of metal in the center of the tube that held the parts of plastic together, which was also connected to a tiny diagnostic sensor. It made the perfect place to connect a metal chain to, to work as one part of a pair of shackles, the chain of only three stout links connected to another manacle locked around her right wrist. She had as much freedom of movement as if she’d had a pair of handcuffs locked around her wrists.
Tamara was seated in a chair in front of Corajen’s small desk, the desk was currently occupied by one of Jax’s goons. Her two regular shadows were there, standing to either side
of her, making sure she remained where they put her. The one behind the desk wasn’t talking; they were all watching the display activated on the desk. On it was a live feed from cargo bay two, showing Gideon Jax, the other pirates and the line of crew.
She tensed, knowing what was coming, her hands shaking, causing the manacles to clink and rattle. It had seemed like such an optimal solution: get rid of a large amount of the pirates in the simplest way possible, bringing their numbers down to a more manageable level and raising the crew’s odds of survival once they reached Amethyst.
And now this. With the loss of his men, Gideon Jax was getting desperate. He had to maintain his control of the crew and fear alone wouldn’t do it. He needed to set an example.
“And so we’re brought here to this,” Gideon Jax went on. He drew his pistol from his holster; gasps sounded from the assembled crewmen. The pirates smiled. “This lesson goes out to all the remaining crew of the Grania Estelle, but especially to you, Captain,” he nodded to the main being restrained by two of his men, “and to you Samair. I want you to understand. For I know no matter what I say or do, you’re all going to go on plotting ways to get out of this arrangement your Captain has with my Captain. I would just like for you to understand what will happen, what the price of defiance is.”
And with that, he raised the weapon and shot the first crewman in line, one of the zheen from the cargo division. The insectoid crumpled to the deck with a screech, his greenish blood splattering in all directions. The nearby crewmen shrieked, and a few tried to run. The other pirates raised their own weapons and opened fire. Bullets, plasma shots and blaster bolts erupted from their guns, mowing down the unfortunate members of the ship’s company. There was nowhere for them to go, no where to hide. Nothing delayed their deaths by anything more than a second or two. They all were out in the open, a perfect set of targets. It was just a bloodbath.
From her seat in the security office, Tamara was screaming in despair and outrage, trying to fight her way out of the seat and restraints, but the guards easily overpowered her, keeping her in the metal chair without much effort.
In the cargo bay, the strength had gone out of the Captain’s legs and he sagged in the pirate soldiers’ arms. Had they not been there restraining, and now supporting him, he would have collapsed to the deck. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurred from the tears that flowed freely. His throat was raw from his own shouts and screams of despair. All those people, dead in a matter of seconds as retribution for more deaths.
Jax stood there, breathing heavily, gun still in hand. He jammed it back into the holster on his thigh, then turned to the security camera. He nodded once, slowly, then turned to the nearest of his men, who had a recording device in one hand. He’d been unnoticed up to this point; just another pirate in a host of them here. The zheen stepped away from his fellows who were all securing their own weapons. He too was armed, with a needler pistol strapped to one thigh and a heavy blade in a leather sheath down his back. But his weapons were unused, no he, like Captain Eamonn, was here to bear witness for when they returned to the rest of the pirate fleet he would need to present a full report to Captain Verrikoth. Armsman Jax might be very angry but he never forgot or shirked his duty.
The zheen walked over to each of the dead crewmen and scanned them with the recorder, making sure to note where they’d been hit, and especially to get their faces.
“You sick fuck!” Eamonn bellowed. “Is that how you get your kicks? Filming the faces of the people you butcher?” He was on his feet so fast that he broke loose from his captors and rushed at Armsman Jax.
He actually made it within two meters of the other man before the pirates reacted. Guns came up and the two who had been holding him raced forward, but they couldn’t reach him before he could get to the Armsman. His hands clenched around the pirate’s throat, his eyes filled with hate. An animal like growl came from Eamonn’s mouth.
But there was a reason Gideon Jax held the rank of Armsman for Verrikoth’s personal guard. It wasn’t political. He’d had to fight and prove his mettle as a warrior to get there and to hold that position, a position he’d held with honor for over four years now. A twitch of his arms upward struck the captain on the inside of his forearms, breaking the chokehold, a follow up strike to the chest and another to the gut backed the Captain off, stunning the bigger man. Leaning back, Jax extended his leg and kicked outward, planting his foot in the Captain’s solar plexus, dropping him to the deck.
He stood over the gasping Captain. “You don’t ever touch me again. You’re extremely lucky that my Captain wants you alive. Else I would have killed you just now.” He looked up and addressed the ship at large again. “I hope that this lesson is one that will not be repeated.” Jax turned and walked out. The guards followed, except for Eamonn’s shadows and the man doing the recording. He continued his sweep, getting every one of their faces. Once he was finished he walked past where Vincent Eamonn was recovering. The pirate, a rather scarred individual, though not as much as Captain Verrikoth had been, stopped in front of the human as he pushed himself back up to a sitting position.
The zheen waited until the human captain acknowledged his presence and hissed laughter at the stricken man. His antennae bobbed as he laughed and his mouthparts waggled back and forth. “I heard what you said, Captain,” he mocked. “And to answer your question? I do enjoy it. I like to know the faces of my enemies that my brothers and I kill. And the Captain assigned me to this task and I like to see it completed. So you are not going to make me feel shame for this.” He hissed again in laughter.
“They were not your enemy,” Eamonn growled, clutching his stomach. “Those were good people that you gunned down for no purpose other than to satisfy his own vanity!”
The zheen hissed again. Pressing a control, the recorder ejected a data card. He dropped it on the deck in front of where Eamonn was sitting. “Watch that, Captain. I think you’ll enjoy the images you see there.” The hissing changed to a clacking noise as he moved his mouthparts together and turned and walked out of the bay. The guards stepped back, moving to the main entry doors, leaving the Captain to sit there and compose himself. With no further orders and the lesson given, they didn’t care what the man did right now so long as he didn’t try to sabotage the ship or attack them.
Eamonn reached over and picked up the data card. Picking himself up off the deck, his right hand still holding his aching stomach, he walked with what little dignity he could muster for his fallen crewmembers. Yes, he had the data card that probably had all of their faces on it, but he wanted to see them with his own eyes. He owed them that.
Most of them were from the cargo division, as it seemed Jax wanted to make his example, but not pare down the divisions that were actually running the ship. Since the cargo people would only really be of real use once they arrived in Amethyst to do the unloading and then loading of new cargo, they were excess right now. Aside from morale, their deaths would not affect shipboard operations while Grania Estelle was in hyperspace.
There was Tethys and Regan. Moore and Killaine. Ramsa and Kre’kich. He continued to walk looking at the dead faces of his crew; human, zheen, even Bogart, who was of the alien race from Suspiria. Freira, the stocky and rock-skinned Secaara. Two of the remaining security officers were here as well, Sion and Plonall, who had fought so well on the refueling station back at Ulla-tran to rescue Captain Vosteros and the remainder of his crew. He saw some of the newest of the engineering crew, the ones who had the least training. It seemed as though Jax had been surgical in his execution of these people. Those who would be least likely to affect operations. No one from deck division or steward was here, strangely. The lack of people from Deck division surprised Eamonn, given how much irritation his bridge crew had given the good Armsman.
Eamonn’s legs gave out again and he slumped to the deck, smashing his fist into the deck plate, screaming in rage and in pain. The pirate guards only chuckled at his misery.
Tamara slumped
back into the chair, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks. She couldn’t see the faces of the people that had just been executed, for her implants were not projecting updates onto her HUD and she couldn’t concentrate well enough to activate it.
The doors to the security office opened behind her but she didn’t even turn. She just hung her head and wept. She ignored the zheen who walked in and handed a data card to the soldier behind the desk. Tamara didn’t even notice when the guards secured her arms to the chair, looping a restraint over her lap to keep her in the chair.
“Set it on a loop,” the leader behind the desk ordered, catching Tamara’s attention.
She brought her head up to see the zheen accessing the display screens behind the desk, ones that were pointing in her direction. A flip of a switch and they appeared as holo displays, floating over the desk, less than a meter away from her. Tamara started to struggle, but there was nowhere she could go, the restraints held her fast to the metal chair.
Pressing a control, the feed from the zheen’s recorder activated, queued up to a specific part of the massacre he’d filmed. In fact, the massacre was over by that point and he was recording the faces of the dead crewmen. The camera panned slowly over each, sometimes stopping while the zheen would turn someone over to get a good shot of their face and then moving on. Always moving on.
Tamara watched, horrified as the video continued showing face upon face. In her time aboard, she’d made her way throughout every compartment and crawlspace in the ship, and had met everyone. Her implants had a record of faces and names, but she remembered a fair few of them on her own without assistance. She’d met with and talked to everyone at some point, some more than others, but everyone at some point came to the mess hall to eat.
Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 Page 6
