by T. R. Harris
“You are Copernicus Sminn and Sheren Ballentine?”
Sherri smiled. “It’s pronounced Copernicus Smith and Sherri Valentine.”
She was immediately taken aback when the six-armed alien flipped one of his hands at her in a dismissive fashion.
“It matters not your names. I was simply verifying identity. Are you the thieves from the station?”
“You know we are,” Sherri snapped. She didn’t like this alien very much and wasn’t afraid to show it. Coop squeezed her arm.
“Yes, we are the agents you hired,” he said. “We have acquired the device and now wish to complete our business arrangement with the very-esteemed Maris-Kliss organization.”
The two white-suited aliens took seats across a large table from the Humans. “Very well. Is this the device…and the cubes?”
Coop moved to the cart and opened the satchel. He pulled out two thin metal containers and placed them on the table. He opened both lids. Inside was another clear cover, revealing three rows of ten compartments each. All the holders in one case were filled with small gray cubes, while the other had seven missing.
The aliens recoiled slightly. “Where are the missing cubes?”
Coop shook his head. “They weren’t in there when we took the case. The Gracilians must have them aboard the station. But we do have the collector, and all sixty of those containers are full.”
He left the DMC on the cart but flipped open the outer covers on each side, showing the aliens the rows of cube containers. There were no other openings on the collector, not even a control panel. He knew from listening to the scientists that when a cube was removed, another would appear a few days later without any outside help. He closed the lids.
“Where is the rest?” two-arms asked.
Coop tensed. “What rest? This is all we have.”
“There is a screening apparatus.”
“What’s that?” Sherri asked, sharing Coop’s trepidation. If they didn’t have a complete package would they get paid?
The aliens looked at each with an amused countenance.
“The screening apparatus protects external systems from the gravitational influence of the collector and the cubes,” said two-arms. “The cases are made of the material, which keep the cubes from reacting with each other, but not from the larger effects surrounding them.” The alien attempted a thin smile. “That would be the reason you had difficulties with your engines and communication system.” He looked at his partner in white. “And that would explain the temporary loss of internal gravity we experienced as their ship was moved into the landing bay. We shall have to guard against the cubes being near the gravity drive.”
The sour look on the faces of the two Humans was priceless, if the aliens understood their expressions. They certainly seemed to grasp the sick humor of the situation.
“So what does this mean for our contract?” Sherri asked, fearing the answer.
“It matters not. There is no change from our intended mission.”
Sherri and Copernicus were both visibly relieved. The transfer would go on as planned—
“Yet we have an issue you may not find agreeable,” said the six-armed alien.
Sherri and Coop turned pale.
The alien continued: “This ship was embarked on a mission to recover the dark matter device and the accompanying cubes without recourse. Having no contact with you beyond the initial, it was decided to take other measures to secure the device. That is our mission, not to provide credits for the effort.”
“What does that mean?” Sherri barked.
“It means they’re going to take the DMC…while leaving us out to dry,” Coop translated.
“It is a wise course of business,” said six-arms. “Maris-Kliss acquires the device and for no cost.”
“It’s only seven hundred fifty thousand credits!” Sherri pointed out. “Hell, your suits probably cost that much. It’s nothing to MK.”
“That is not relevant. Every credit is accounted for, and if a transaction can be completed at little or no cost, that is preferred.”
“But you’re going back on your agreement with us.” Coop said. “We did the job you hired us for. We deserve to be paid.”
“If you were a part of the Maris-Kliss organization, you would. Yet you are not. You are independent contractors, and with the break in communications, any verbal contract we may have had with you became void.”
“According to whom?” Sherri growled.
“According to Maris-Kliss,” six-arms growled back. “We are the only party that matters in this transaction. There is no need for further discussion. We will take the device and the accessories. The question now becomes what do we do with you?”
Sherri and Coop looked at each other nervously. That didn’t sound good.
“What do you mean? We haven’t done anything to you.” Sherri said.
“You are witnesses to the acquisition of the device. You know its origin and, we assume, its function.”
“We don’t know shit!” Sherri said. “The Incus and Gracilians were doing things with the DMC and the cubes, but we didn’t know what. That wasn’t why we were there.”
“You did not hear others talk?” said two-arms.
Sherri hesitated. “Nothing…honestly.”
She hoped her momentary delay in answering wouldn’t be noticed by the two impeccably-dressed aliens. The truth was, while Copernicus worked on the engines at the station, Sherri had been busy hacking into computer databases aboard the station. She knew more than she was letting on, not so much about the purpose of the DMC and the cubes, but who was interested in buying them. MK wasn’t the only player in the game.
But the aliens did notice the hiccup and saw it for what it was—deception.
By means of some unseen signal, the aliens summoned others to the room. A Rigorian and another alien the Humans didn’t recognize entered, wearing chest armor and pointing two strange-looking flash weapons at them.
“You will be detained until we receive instructions from our superiors,” said six-arms.
The alien followed Coop’s line of sight to the shiny, slightly larger-than-normal handguns the guards carried. “I see you have noticed the MK-88X. We at Maris-Kliss are very proud of our latest line of bolt launchers.” The alien beamed with pride, as if he was at a trade-show convention and showing off his company’s latest gizmo. All Copernicus wanted to know was if it could kill a Human with a single bolt?
The alien answered the question as if he had read Coop’s mind. “The ’88 was designed specifically with Humans in mind. It has been known for some time that your species has a resistance to level-two bolts, and even level-one is mostly non-lethal unless the subject is struck in a vulnerable area of the body. You are also mostly immune to the electrical effects from a conventional bolt. Because of this, we have developed this prototype weapon that addresses those concerns.”
Six-arms stopped suddenly and looked at his partner with wide-eyed excitement.
“I believe we have been presented with an excellent opportunity, to not only demonstrate the effectiveness of the ’88, but also to experiment.”
Two-arms picked up on the enthusiasm of the other alien. “Yes. And we can use the survivor to study the damaging effect of peripheral hits to the body, to discover how long and how well a subject can withstand the bolt intensity.”
“Excellent.”
While the aliens were talking, Copernicus was busy using his ATD to probe the inner workings of the new MK-88X. Although he wasn’t a master with the Formilian brain-interface device, the process of disabling flash weapons was something he’d paid particular attention to during the training sessions with Adam Cain and his team. He was the least-experienced with the device, but he was learning.
He was also relieved to find, that although MK had upgraded the output of the weapon, they hadn’t changed any of the basic internal components. There was still a firing circuit which he could sever. There was also a battery feed line, th
at if blocked while the weapon was being fired, could turn the handgun into a small grenade against the user.
He wasn’t worried and tried to convey that to Sherri with his expression. Although her ATD was broken, she was thinking the same thing. She knew what ATDs could do to flash weapons. She got the message.
“Take this pair to the medical bay and lock them a quarantine room,” two-arms said.
Sherri and Copernicus stood up, doing nothing to resist. They had to plan their escape carefully, rather than fly off the handle. However, if the aliens were planning on using them for target practice right away…that would be another matter.
5
Copernicus was busy surveying the ship’s electrical components as the Humans were marched to the sickbay. The Rigorian kept poking him in the ribs, just for the fun of it. It was becoming annoying. When they reached the department, they were placed in a room with a secure lock on the door and a large window along one wall where medical personnel could observe the patient—or patients—inside. They weren’t patients—rather prisoners—so the medical crew paid them no attention. The guards, on the other hand, remained outside and on station. Coop could swear the expression on the huge lizard-like Rigorian was one of anticipation. He seemed anxious to test out his new-fangled flash weapon on the Humans. Copernicus smiled. He would be sorely disappointed if he tried.
Sherri wrapped Coop in her arms, feigning distress, while whispering in his ear in case they were being monitored.
“Do you have the controls identified?”
“Yep. The door, the weapons…I even have the electric cart with the DMC being tracked.”
“Great job.” She bit his earlobe. “I knew you had it in you. Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah: Get out of here and kill every alien in sight.”
“Now you sound like Adam.”
“That hurt.”
“Don’t knock it; it’s been effective in the past. But this time I think we need something a little more subtle.”
Coop snuggled against her. “What do you have in mind, baby?”
“Do you know where the engine room is aboard this tub?”
“I got your engine right here….”
“Get serious!”
“Yeah, I can find it with the ATD. There are a lot of unique signals I can trace.”
“Good. This is what we’re going to do—and not that!”
To their surprise—and relief—the cart with the DMC was near the sickbay. Medical facilities were normally located amidships, being the most secure part of the ship in case of attack. The white suits were being careful with the dark matter collector, keeping it as far from the gravity generators at the stern and the complex focusing rings forward and on the short wings. That placed the valuable cargo only steps from where they were being held prisoner.
The motor on the electric cart wasn’t only controlled by a Formilian-designed module, it was also robotic and able to follow wires embedded in the deck to move about the ship on command. Coop took control of the cart and set it in motion, having to open a door to remove it from the room it was in. If anyone was in the room with it they would assume it was transporting the contents to another part of the ship by command of higher ups.
Next he leaned nonchalantly against the wall near the door. Sherri stood at the end of the hospital bed, facing the door. Coop tripped the lock with his ATD. When the panel suddenly slid open, it was so quiet that the guards didn’t notice. Coop slipped around the corner and planted a flat-handed chop across the throat of the unknown species of alien, sending him crumbling to the deck. Sherri sprang from the room and turned the other way, catching the Rigorian by surprise. She pinned the huge body against the wall while Coop pulled the MK-88X from the alien’s holster.
“I believe you were anxious to test out your new weapon,” Coop said to him, pressing the barrel hard against the bottom of the alien’s long, tooth-lined snout. “Let me help.” He pulled the trigger.
“Dammit, you jerk!” Sherri yelled, now covered in warm Rigorian blood. “That wasn’t cool.”
The small medical staff was in shock and froze when Copernicus turned the weapon on them. He motioned the four aliens inside the quarantine room, but not before telling two of them to strip and turn over their tailored uniforms to the Humans. Then he disabled the internal comm box and shut the door, locking the menagerie of aliens inside.
Sherri and Coop hurriedly dressed in the uniforms—after washing Rigorian blood from their faces—and then ran into the outer corridor just as the cart was passing by. Copernicus took the satchel and rushed ahead of Sherri and the cart, along a passageway toward the aft end of the ship. Sherri and the cart followed the same path, but to the landing bay and the stolen Gracilian starship.
The uniforms helped, and no one paid them any attention. Coop wouldn’t be surprised to learn that a few Humans worked for Maris-Kliss, the company was that huge and all-encompassing. In what capacity they would serve, he had no idea. Possibly weapons designers. Humans weren’t known for their loyalty to their race.
Copernicus reached the main engine room and entered, the satchel draped over his shoulder. He came in like he owned the place and moved immediately to the confluence of two huge generators. There were eight in the room, which to his amazement, were each spotless and mostly automated. Two workers took notice of him and approached.
“You are not of the engineering crew,” one said. “What is your purpose here?”
“I’ve come to disable the generators so my associate and I can escape from your ship and you can’t follow.” The aliens stopped and stared at him, their tiny brains working overtime to decipher the statement. The translation device spoke the words, they just didn’t make sense.
When Coop swung the satchel off his shoulder and into the head of one of the aliens—while following with a swift kick to the midsection of the other—they got the message. Coop sat the satchel on the deck while he hid the bodies behind one of the generators.
Then he moved to the huge dynamos and took out one of the carrying cases with the gray, dark matter cubes. He didn’t know how many it would take to disrupt the gravity drive of the huge ship, so he removed five and placed them behind various structural components. He’d seen the Gracilians handle them barehanded, so he wasn’t worried. What bothered him, however, was when he moved one of the cubes too close to another they both began to vibrate. After that, he kept them separated and spread over a ten foot section of the generator. The dark matter cubes had never been this close to critical engine parts aboard the Gracilian starship, and yet they still affected the formation of gravity-wells. He hoped that by placing them directly on the generator it would really mess up the works within the MK vessel.
When he was done, he closed the lid on the container and put it back in the satchel. No one else had entered the room so he exited quickly and turned left toward the landing bay.
The small electric cart had obediently followed its programming and rolled onto the latticed metal decking of the landing bay. Coop wasn’t sure exactly where the Gracilian ship was within the huge chamber, so he had the cart stop when it entered. Sherri would have to push it the rest of the way.
To her consternation, she found the wheels were locked. So she hefted the suitcase-sized DMC off the cart and carried it to the small starship.
There were about a dozen smaller craft in the bay, all MK vessels, shiny and new. She was almost tempted to take one of them, but figured the controls would be unfamiliar and the ships might have locators in them. So she activated the side hatch on the smaller, older spacecraft and lugged the DMC inside.
“Are you authorized entry?” asked a voice from behind.
She turned to see a female crewmember with light red skin and a hairless scalp standing in the hatchway. There was no doubt the alien was female by the two rows of four teats each pressing out from her uniform.
“Yes, I am. I have been ordered to place this module inside the ship. Would you help me?”
The alien hesitated a moment before stepping inside the ship. She took the back end of the DMC while Sherri took the front. They carried it past the inner airlock door and then to the left, toward the ship’s midsection.
“It smells in here. How disgusting,” said the helpful alien. “I do not recognize you. What is your function here?”
They set the collector on the deck while the female crewmember took a look around the dirty, unfamiliar interior. Coop and Sherri hadn’t paid too much attention to housekeeping during their eighteen-day transit. The place was a mess…and it did smell.
“I’m a whoop-ass specialist,” Sherri answered.
“Whoop-ass specialist?” the female asked without turning. “What is that?”
A moment later, the alien was laid out on the deck, her neck snapped by Sherri’s quick twist of her bald head.
“That is a whoop-ass specialist, sweetie.”
Copernicus entered the ship a moment later and almost tripped over the dead alien. “A friend of yours?”
“We went to high school together. She stole my boyfriend.”
“Be sure to remind me never to steal a boyfriend from you.”
“As if you could.”
Coop handed her the satchel. “Put this at the center of the ship on the starboard side, away from the engines and focusing rings. I’ll take the collector and do the same, but to port. I don’t want a concentration of dark matter close to each other. They act weird when they get close.”
“So do we.”
“That’s your fault, not mine. I’m perfect just the way I am.”
They were in the pilothouse, ready to fire up the chem drive of the small starship. The problem was that the landing bay was still pressurized and the doorway had safety protocols that protected against premature opening. Copernicus scanned the controls with his brain-interface device until he found what he was looking for. It was the fire alarm.
He tripped the controller and a loud bleeping filled the chamber, echoing loudly off the metal walls. He activated the door controls.
