“Jin!” Vance shouted.
Sal turned and looked. The spot where the doors met was steaming and turning red. “They’re cutting through.”
“Hurry, Bel!”
Sal ran to the Jessamine. As he did the loading bay descended from the belly of the ship on sighing hydraulic servos. On it stood his deck crew, all armed. Sal started giving orders. “Alright boys, we’re going to need some cover. Run those pallets over here. Lanjer, you stay up there and be ready to bring us up when we need it.”
“Gan,” Dothin called. “Our berth is about to get messy. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”
Sal expected to hear Gan’s response in his earpiece, then realized he was still on the Jessamine’s channel. Dothin gave that unfocused blind-man expression, imagining Naboris’ face as he spoke back to Dothin, then he nodded.
Sal then addressed Dothin. “You get up there and out of harm’s way.”
Dothin’s eyes narrowed and he seemed to think before responding. “I’m prepared to help fight this battle.”
“I am not prepared to let a teenaged kid become an orphan when I can avoid it. Get up there.”
Dothin didn’t move.
Sal took a step closer. “Look. My crew and I are experienced combatants. You’re not. Plus—and forgive my social faux pas—but there’s also the age factor. There’s no shame or dishonor in you getting to cover. The rest of my crew is up there too. Now go on.”
Dothin nodded, capitulating. “Thanks.”
“You’ve saved our hides a few times over by guiding us through that warren of back halls, so let us return the favor.”
Dothin nodded and climbed up and out of the loading bay.
“They’ve cut through!” Vance called, pointing.
“Everybody, get to cover!” Sal hunkered behind a crate next to the Kid, who was now sporting a less ridiculous A-27 assault particle repeater. He lifted a second one and held it out to Sal. Salazar holstered his pistol and took the repeater.
“Thought you might want something with a little more kick, just for the occasion,” the Kid said.
“Thanks.” Sal put his fist out and the Kid slapped Sal’s knuckles with his own.
The metal of the big landing bay doors closest to where they met was starting to cool. The cutting was finished, all that remained was releasing the pressure to the hydraulics that held them sealed. “Get ready.”
Sal heard a distant shrill roar. Then the doors slid open and banged into their starting positions. A flurry of laser fire arced over Salazar’s head as a full squad of marines entered the bay firing on full auto. Each marine was led by a motorized defense screen, a moving, full-body shield on a set of c-grav engines. Each screen left nothing but a slit of unprotected space for the marines to fire through.
“Open fire!”
His men didn’t need to be told. They all lit into the oncoming marines, but their bolts and plasma didn’t seem to do more than slow the moving screens.
The marines widened their lines as men on the left and right started side-stepping further and further to their respective flank.
“We can’t let them flank us! Where’s the grenades?”
“Right here, boss!” Yuki shouted. He threw open a lid from off a small carton, revealing a dozen neatly ordered plasma grenades.
“Let them have it!”
Yuki started throwing. One grenade collided with the defense screens, bouncing off and doing little damage upon explosion. One landed under a screen’s c-grav engines. When it went off, the screen cartwheeled to one side and Sal’s men hosed down the now-exposed marines. A third rolled between and behind a pair of screens. The resulting blast wounded the two marines and dropped one of the screens.
Sal didn’t prefer to kill Alliance marines, most of all because it was a lot more difficult and expensive to escape serious consequences for it than were he, say, killing local security. But he preferred it over he and his men being killed. So, he kept shooting. Behind the first squad he saw a second squad entering the room, led by mobile shields like the first.
Yuki wound up to throw again. He released the firing mechanism of the grenade and held it aloft. A laser beam, visible as it hit the cloud of hot gas from Olo’s heavy plasma repeater, arced through Yuki’s wrist. The big man howled, more at the sight of the live grenade hitting the deck of the loading bay than from pain. Sal watched as the grenade dropped and rolled, watched as the little red light on it started flashing faster.
He scrambled towards the grenade, stumbled fell short. Olo dove for it to. No. Not for it, not to grab the grenade. To smother it. Olo hopped on top of the grenade, squeezed his eyes shut and then bounced half a meter from the deck as the grenade exploded. His body blackened, filling the loading bay with the smell of seared meat.
Sal wanted to scream. It had a name.
“Naboris!”
“Okay,” Naboris replied. “On my mark cease fire and take cover.”
“What?” Salazar couldn’t believe what he had heard, had a hard time understanding.
“I said, on my mark cease fire and take cover.”
“Why?”
“Mark!”
Chapter Thirty-One:
A Man Named Nicodemus
“So, what’s the deal with the jumping jacks?”
Soma leaned against the wall in the security station in the Peace Corps’ new home-made prison block deep under the Meritine Palace. The station was tiny, not much bigger than the space it afforded for desk, observation monitors, control panels, chair and one guard.
Tonight’s guard was APC Specialist Kato Bixley, Bix to his friends. Bix pointed at the block of video feeds showing, from several angles, the saboteur doing jumping jacks. “Oh man, Cross. It’s weird. Here, look.”
Bixley turned in his rotating chair to the series of control panels. He started tapping on the screen. Soma wasn’t familiar with the interface, but he understood enough that Bix was accessing a series of controls for cell two, which is where the jump-jacking saboteur was. Bixley tapped a button called “room temp” and pointed at the number the screen showed him.
“6 degrees Celsius?” Soma said. He whistled.
Bix nodded. He swiveled back at the observation desk and tapped on one of the feeds. The saboteur filled the big upper screen.
“They got me on a randomized schedule,” Bix said, pointing at another screen displaying a spreadsheet. “Turn the temperature up, turn it down. Lights on. Lights off. Noises, the whole mix.”
Soma focused in on the feed on the big screen. Now seeing it with more detail and clarity, he could see the toll Bixley’s ‘schedule’ was having on her. “She’s not looking so hot.”
Bix shook his head. “No. She’s liable to crack soon.”
“What do they want from her?”
“The location of the governor’s daughter.”
Soma nodded. “The one who escaped with her help?”
“That’s the one.” Bix sighed. “They’re putting her through the ringer. But at least they seem to provide a little respite now and then.”
Soma sat down on a stack of boxes in the corner but kept his eyes on the screen. “What do you mean.”
Bix looked at Soma. “Several nights back I came in and Melaj—he’s the guy I relieve—Melaj says she’s on medical watch. See, she tried to escape when they picked up her food one morning.”
“I take it that’s frowned on around here.”
Bixley chuckled, a dry, wry sound. “You ain’t kidding. Melaj says the MOD was expecting it, and packed the corridors outside with MPs armed with stun batons on full power. Story went that she took at least a few of them down with her bare hands.”
“But she’s still here so...”
“Numbers won over and they beat her down, so Melaj says. Stunners were on so high they left blisters on her. But they never sent a medic to deal with them. They got real infected. You think she’s not looking good now?”
“No way.”
“But a few ni
ghts later, I came in and she was good as new.”
“Really?” Soma tilted his head. “That seems a little sudden.”
“No scuff, son.”
Soma leaned in, waited for the rest of the story, though he already knew what came next.
“Melaj told me they put the weirdo in her cell. Five minutes later, she was healthy as ever.”
Cross shook his head. “No way.”
Bix gave a mischievous grin and shrugged. “That’s just what I hear.”
Soma pointed at the block of feeds showing Remnant. “Do they do the same things to her? Hot and cold and what not?”
Bix turned, looked at the screens and shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah. Not as extreme as with this one. I guess they figure she’s not as tough, can’t take it.”
They sat quietly for a while, Bix out of stories and Soma out of questions for the moment.
For the past several days Soma had been hanging out with Specialist Bixley every night. His shift was late at night, at a time when noone important was around. It turned out nobody was around at all. Just Bixley and his two prisoners.
Soma had found Bixley to be an easy friend. He was a little lonely, a little socially awkward and ready to please, which filled Soma with guilt for taking advantage of him. He’d been working up a rapport with Bixley, sitting around, talking, bringing a snack or his favorite brand of tobacco. Tonight was the night Soma was going to ask the big question.
“She is a weird one, isn’t she,” Soma started.
“Hmm? Oh.” Bix pointed at Remnant. “Yeah. Son, I’ve heard some stories.”
“You want to hear another one?”
Bix’s eyes narrowed. “I need a smoke for this.” He pulled one of the cigarettes out of the pack Soma had bought him and put it to his lips. Soma pulled a lighter from his pocket—one he’d never carried until Bixley told him he smoked—and lit the cigarette for him.
Soma put the lighter back in his pocket. “Okay, so, my squad was the one that pulled her out of the governor’s ship.”
“No sawking way,” Bix said.
“Yeah. The Elpizio. Nice ship. So, we had some navy hacks work us a program to dice the security of the ship’s maintenance network and me and my squad used it to bypass the ship’s marines and get to the governor’s quarters, where the girl was.”
“Okay.” Bixley leaned forward, took another puff.
“The navy made up a specialized tranquilizer formula so we could knock her out without hurting her. But anyway, we got into the governor’s suites. I had one team cover the hall outside, and the other team went in with me. Then we split up again to search the rooms.”
Soma leaned forward. “So, me and one of my guys, Axelin, went into the bedroom and there she was, standing in front of the mirror. Not hiding or anything. And she says hello and calls me by name and rank, same thing with my buddy.”
Bix screwed his face up in confusion.
“Marine combat armor doesn’t display name or rank on the uniform, besides the rank insignias.”
Bix’s eyes got big. “So how did she know your names?”
Soma smiled, made his eyes wide. “That’s the big question.”
Bix laughed. “No way! You’re sawking messing with me.”
“Nope.”
Bix sat back looking at the ceiling, spinning in his chair slowly.
“Hey listen.” Soma ran his hand over his freshly buzzed head. He never thought he would have been so nervous but now he’d finally come to it. He’d been waiting for this moment for almost a week. “Listen, I know it’s probably against regs, but I was wondering if you’d let me go in there.”
Bix’s eyebrows raised. “What?”
Soma sighed. It wasn’t an act. The look on Bixley’s face was enough to tell him this wasn’t working. “I know, I know, it’s crazy. But, man Bix, she’s in my head.”
“What would you do to her?” Bix spoke slowly, as if he didn’t want to ask the question.
Soma put his hands up. “I don’t want to do anything to her. I just wanted to talk to her. You know, ask her how she knew my name.”
“Why didn’t you ask her then?”
Soma laughed. “Yeah, remember that special tranq I told you about?” Bix nodded. “I think she must have spooked my buddy and he popped her the second after she said it. She was out like that.” Soma snapped his fingers.
“Well, listen, you’re right. It is against regs, way against them.”
Soma nodded. He didn’t have to play act disappointment. “I understand.”
“But why not?”
Soma’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Bix chuckled, slapped Soma on the shoulder. He turned and started tapping away. “Unlike jumping-jack Jane over here, this girl never tries to escape, but if she does, you’re my backup to keep her in place.”
“You got it. Of course.”
“I can’t turn the cameras or mics off either, but there’s no reason for them to scrub the feeds unless I report something, which I won’t.”
“Can you just...turn your speakers down to give me a little privacy?”
Bix shrugged. “As long as there’s no sign of anything weird going on, aside from her usual kind of weird.”
“Bix.” Soma clapped him on the shoulder. “Man, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“Yeah, yeah, go on.” Bix waved him away.
Soma walked over to the spot marked with yellow lines for a door.
“Hold on,” Bix yelled. Soma winced at the sound, but then berated himself. It’s not like anyone else was down here. Soma heard Bix talk again but much quieter. Soma figured this was to Remnant.
A hissing sound emanated from behind the walls. Then the door slid open. Beyond it, Soma saw a shallow airlock. The rooms were surrounded by vacuum at all times to separate the prisoner from the outside world. No sounds could penetrate into the cell that way.
A hole opened into the wall, some sort of nanomolecular manipulation, Soma thought, not unlike the way his helmet’s faceplate materialized. Remnant stood facing a far corner with hands against the walls. Soma stepped inside her cell. The hole closed behind him. Soma looked around. With the door shut the cell was a black cube with a white ceiling emitting a somewhat sickly shade of light. There were no visible recording devices, no air vents, no furniture, no nothing.
Soma’s respect for the tough saboteur only grew. A few days in a place like this would drive him nuts and they wouldn’t have to change the temperature.
Soma looked at Remnant again. She still wore the same tattered garment. He continued to be disappointed that they refused to follow regulations and get the girl a change of clothes. He had no idea how she managed not to stink. If she hadn’t changed, how had she managed to wash?
“Turn around,” Soma said.
Remnant’s head popped up. Surprise? She took her hands off the walls and turned around. Soma looked at her face and felt sick. She was pale, and thin. Soma could see the dots of cold perspiration on her forehead. The air in the room wasn’t hot.
She smiled. “Hello again.”
“Hi.” His mind went blank. All the questions he wanted to ask, gone.
“Would you mind if I sat down?” She swallowed, and Soma could hear a click in her throat. “I’m not feeling well.”
Soma shook his head. “Listen. I can’t take much time. I came to ask some serious questions and I want concrete answers.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” She smiled again at his sudden confusion. She looked exhausted.
“Sorry,” Soma said. “Sure, sit down, whatever you want.”
Remnant slid down the far wall with a sigh. “Okay, ask your questions.”
“How did you know my name?”
Remnant’s eyes glazed slightly, not dazed, just remembering. “It seems like such a long time ago now.”
“I know. For me to.”
“Do you believe in a Benefactor, Soma?”
“No.” The answer came easily to him. It wasn’t so
mething he thought about.
“I’m not talking about what the Scions preach, someone who moved planets. I’m talking about someone who created them, all of them, and the stars and you and me.”
Soma sighed. “I am obligated by my contract with the Alliance Naval Command to say I accept no theology besides that of the Order of Benefaction. What does that have to do with how you knew my name?”
Soma felt his eyes cross. “Wait a minute, you did it again. You called me ‘Soma.’”
Remnant giggled. Then she sighed. “I knew your name because my master told it to me.” Soma opened his mouth to ask, but she continued. “My master is the one true benefactor if you will. He created the universe, invented the laws of physics that govern how the stars burn and how gravity works. And he created you. You, Soma, are not just a random collection of genes, you are a human being with a soul. And he has a plan and a purpose for your life.”
Soma couldn’t help but feel swayed by her words. They were nice words, nice ideas, nice fantasies. “I suppose that’s how you saw me through the double-sided glass during your interrogation?”
Remnant nodded.
“And when I delivered the saboteur. You looked at the camera.” Soma looked around. “I can’t even see the cameras.”
Remnant nodded, giggled again. It would have sounded girlish if it wasn’t burdened with the weight of her sickness and exhaustion.
“Why?” Soma shook his head. “Why would he do that? Just so you could do some kind of magic trick?”
Remnant licked her lips. “If I may show my vulnerability for the sake of honesty, I am in the middle of the greatest test of faith I have ever faced. The master tells me when you are near, and where to look, because he knows I take comfort from your presence, among other reasons.”
Soma shook his head and opened his arms wide. “Why would you take comfort from me? I’m the guy who kidnapped you. All your sufferings are due to me.”
“That’s not true. You never harmed me. Because you delivered me into the hands of your superiors who did, cannot be counted against you. But also, because he’s been telling me about you.”
Remnant Page 33
