“Dad, Bob’s got a broken ankle, I think.”
“Shit. Okay, get him back to the shuttle,” Jim said. “Bobby, looks like you’re sitting this one out.”
He pushed himself up into a sitting position with Melissa’s help. “No, you need me. I’m the only one of us that knows what parts we need. I just need a crutch.”
Jim looked around. “Anything that might have been useful is out there now.” He pointed through the gaping hole from where they’d flown in.
“Well, then we’ll find something on the other side of this door. I’m not sitting in the shuttle while you three are risking your lives to get us home.”
“Fine. Chris, activate the shield and set the charge. Everyone else, get under cover.” Jim ducked behind a computer bank with a cracked screen. Lights still flashed in an unintelligible pattern.
The shield flickered into existence, giving off a faint blue glow as it shimmered. The golf ball-looking grenade attached to the door with a loud click. “Fifteen seconds.” Chris ducked behind the terminal with Jim.
The computer grabbed Jim’s attention. He only had a basic understanding of the Razak language from the memories he’d inherited, but something bothered him.
“Plasma coils,” he shouted. “Chris, disable that charge!”
“I-.” The rest of the other man’s sentence was lost as the charge blew.
Chunks of metal flew at the force field. With each hit, it dimmed to near transparency. They’d survive if the shield died, but if one of the plasma tubes on the other side of that door got hit, there wouldn’t be anything left of them to survive.
Jim did his breathing exercises as the dust settled. Nothing. “Okay, we just got lucky. This is the engineering section. There’s a lot that can blow us up. Read every display from here on out.”
Jim pulled out his blaster and stepped through the door. Inside held more the plasma conducting pipes that had so recently put them in jeopardy and more computers against the gall wall.
The others piled in behind him. “I have to get this helmet off. The curve in the plastic makes everything look weird and is making my head hurt.” Jim hardly finished his sentence when the others joined them and tasted the acrid air of the Razak ship. They started further into the room, but a shot rang out over their heads. They dove behind one of the boilers just before another shot missed them.
“We’re here to collect survivors,” Jim stood with his hands open, his rifle sitting on the floor by his feet.
“You’ve killed my colleagues and disabled my ship. I will rid the galaxy of you.” The Razak spit the words out. He wore tattered coveralls marking him as some sort of mechanic. Blood seeped from a wound on his neck.
Jim took a step forward. The mechanic’s hands shook as he attempted to aim the weapon at him. “I’m not your enemy; we defended ourselves. Your Captain attacked. We could use your help getting everyone safe.”
“Stop right there or I’ll shoot you.” He coughed, sending his aim wild over the wall behind Jim. His shaking hand pulled the trigger, and he burned a hole through one of the thick pipes hung from the ceiling.
The emergency siren went off as purple gas leaked from the hole. Sweat formed on Jim’s brow as the room’s temperature spiked. The mechanic dropped the gun in surprise. His training took over, and he grabbed a patch kit to repair the pipe. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Jim asked, still with his hands up.
The Razak continued coughing. “Hold this up while the nanites in the material bond with the pipe.” While Jim did so, the man dropped to his knees, coughing constantly now. He brought his hand to his mouth and it came away with flecks of red.
“There has to be a medical drone around here. Find it,” Jim shouted. Plasma leaked around the patch while the nanites struggled against the heat and pressure. The material insulated him from most of the heat, but still glowed.
Melissa was the only one in any shape to comply with his order. She tore through the shelves and cupboards in the room. “I don’t speak their language, dad. I don’t actually know what I’m looking for.
Jim’s grip slipped from the patch. The toxic gas pried the patch away and jetted inches from his helmet. Sensors flashed red on his suit, and the temperature gauge spiked into the danger zone. He ducked and grabbed another from where the now-unconscious mechanic had found the original. “Their first aid symbol is a blue triangle. Look for that.” He grunted. The conduit’s hole opened further as the plasma ate against the damaged material. “Chris, buddy, I need a hand over here.”
Chris slowly made his way across the room to Jim, drawing a sharp breath with each step. He grabbed one side and Jim took the other. “Jesus, this thing is hot.”
Jim nodded, not wanting to expend the energy to speak. “Found it,” Melissa called out. She slid a case out from the wall. Once free, she dropped it to the ground.
“Careful with that thing. I don’t know that we’ll find another in this part of the ship.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy. Everything is heavy in here.” She opened the case and the device inside came alive. It rose up from the case and metallic tentacles likes the ones on their repair drone sneaked out in all directions. “Umm, heal the mechanic.” She pointed at the prostrate alien a few feet away.
The drone beeped and whistled before taking off across the room. It hovered over its patient for a moment and pushed one of its cables down the man’s throat. Lights flashed around the tentacles’ length. The mechanic regained consciousness and choked around the device in his mouth. He flailed and fought against it.
Melissa rushed to his side. “You’re okay. Let the drone do its job.” He kicked again, catching her in the jaw. She dropped, and her head made a sickening thud as it hit the floor. The medic beeped in acknowledgment of its new patient while it continued to work on the Razak mechanic.
Bobby limped over, using the shotgun Melissa had dropped as a crutch. The mechanic tried to reach him as well, but he took care to stay out of reach. Balancing on his good leg, he brought the weapon up and knocked it against the patient’s skull. The mechanic stopped moving. Jim held his breath until he saw the man’s chest continue to rise and fall.
The drone flashed red and let out a series of trill beeps as it knocked the gun away from Bobby’s grasp.
“Hey,” Jim shouted. “We’re trying to save his life, not kill him.”
“Look what he did to Melissa” Bobby pounded his fist against the floor. “I couldn’t do nothing.”
“I expect that kind of bullshit from Chris--.”
“Hey,” Chris objected.
Jim shook his head. “But I expect better from you.” The klaxon overhead quieted. Jim lessened his grip on the patch experimentally, ready to apply full force again if need be. It held, and he backed away from it. He held up his red and blistered hands. “Looks like we all need a turn at that drone when it’s done with the mechanic. Let’s get through the next door before that shield collapses. Chris and Bobby, carry Melissa.”
Jim approached the body, but the drone whipped another tentacle at him, not willing to let another attacker reach its patient. “Drone, I don’t know if you can understand me, but that,” he pointed at the flickering blue light behind them, “is about to go out. You can’t heal dead.” A small antenna poked from its box-like head. It aimed at the energy wall, and a series of colors pulsed before it descended back into the head. More tentacles reached out and wrapped around the mechanic’s body, lifting him off the floor. The thing then jetted towards the next hatch, which opened to its unspoken command. Jim and the others followed behind. The wrist computer on Melissa’s arm chirped in an escalating series of sounds.
“She set the timer for the shield,” Chris explained. “We’re about to lose it.” He lunged at the door and pulled it shut. The chirping ceased on Melisa’s wrist, and a whoosh of air slammed against the floor.
Chris strained against the vacuum of space attempting to reopen the door. Jim and Bobby rushed as much as they were able to
help. “We need to turn the latch.”
Jim gritted his teeth. “It’s taking all three of us just to hold it closed. Take a hand off and we’ll all by trying to spacewalk back to the Resolve.”
The drone chirped again, almost sounding annoyed. The locks activated without being touched and the wind around them stopped. Jim dropped the floor and the other two followed suit on either side. “This shit’s getting old.”
It took them the better part of an hour to get healed by the drone. He wasn’t sure if the Fagare had better technology or the Razak only had a field unit, but when finished, they weren’t quite fully healed. Jim’s hands still ached even if the blisters had vanished, and Bobby’s limp remained. Jim couldn’t really assess the mechanics’ condition, since the alien lay unconscious, now tied to a pedestal in the compartment. Melissa, at least, had awoken.
“Bobby, when he wakes up, try to see if you can talk some sense into him and get answers where we can find the parts we need. The rest of us will look for more survivors. I didn’t want to kill anybody.”
Melissa put a hand on his shoulder. “It was us or them.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or that I shouldn’t do something to minimize the deaths that I caused.”
Dropping his end of the Razak body into the casket-like device before him, Chris wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. His, along with Jim’s and Melissa’s, helmet lie in a heap near the door. “Jim, this is taking forever. There’s probably over a thousand people on a ship this size. You really want to stack all the bodies in these stasis pods?”
“Yes,” Jim barked. “We owe them some respect. The bodies will be safe there until someone retrieves the ship.”
“If the Razak come after the Star Destroyer, won’t that put them on the Earth again?” Melissa sealed what felt to Jim like the millionth pod.
He looked over the rows they had completed. The reality was closer to forty. Well over a hundred still lie empty. And that was just this deck. “Once Bobby finishes the repairs to the Resolve, we can tow this out to neutral space before firing their distress beacon. They will never know it was us.”
“It would help if they weren’t all so damn heavy.” Chris checked the next compartment before slumping against one of the stasis pods. “I’m wore out. Three more in there, by the way.”
Melissa followed him inside. “That’s just the gravity playing tricks on us. Everything heavier in here. Guess it’s my turn.” She bent down to grab the fallen soldier’s legs. Flight deck, if Jim understood the insignia correctly. He crossed the room to grab the arms. They hoisted the body, but Melissa froze.
“There’s a hand on my leg,” she whispered.
The offending grasp yanked her leg back. She dropped the body as she fell, and it landed on top of her. She shrieked, but the hand covered her mouth. Jim took a step towards them, but a raspy voice stopped them. “Don’t move or I’ll kill her.”
A Razak officer stood up, pulling Melissa with him. His left hand stayed over her mouth, but his right pressed a pistol into her ribs.
Jim raised his hands. “Don’t hurt her. I’m the one you want,” Jim said.
The officer laughed a short barking sound only slightly more pleasant than Krazirk’s screech. “I want all of you. Dead.”
“No, you want us alive,” Jim explained. “Your Captain will be highly displeased if you kill us. He’ll want to do the job himself.” He took a step forward, placing himself between their attacker and the hatch leading to his weapons officer.
The officer seemed to consider this. “He doesn’t need all of you. He’ll be contented to kill just you. These others would be delegated to somebody else to kill.”
“Krazirk doesn’t seem like the type who likes his subordinates to think for him. I’m sure you will be rewarded for bringing us to him.” Jim took another shuffling step closer. So far, the officer hadn’t seemed to notice.
“Very well. You will come with me.” The officer pointed at a row of drawers behind them. “There are leg and arm bindings in there. Put them on. Attempt to escape and I will shoot this one.”
The metal coils clicked into place around Jim’s feet and ankles. The officer, finally close enough for Jim to read his name as Pukin, checked them over before grabbing another pair and securing Melissa as well.
“Let’s go.” Pukin pushed them towards the stasis room.
“Uh, not that direction,” Jim said. “There was a plasma leak in engineering. We had to seal off half the section. Figured we’d have to go up to get back out of here.”
“Star Destroyer, confirm the prisoner’s words.”
Shit. Jim hadn’t counted on that. If they did go that direction, hopefully Chris had enough time to get hidden with this diversion.
“Plasma coil rupture shortly after enemy boarded ship. Decks seventeen, eighteen and twenty sealed and exposed to vacuum. “
Pukin frowned, but Jim inwardly jumped for joy. Like their own, this ship’s computer was too stupid to compute cause and effect. “Okay.” The Razak pushed him in the back, nearly barreling Jim over. “We will go the long way. Keep up or I’ll shoot you.”
Jim had spent four years on board an aircraft carrier, but he was quickly lost following Pukin up and down a series of elevators, stairwells, and even a ladder. -We just passed Deck Eight, Area Four. - Jim told Chris through their telepathic connection.
-For the last time, dammit, I can’t read their stupid chicken-scratch writing. I wouldn’t know if I was Deck Four, Area Eight or not.-
-No, Deck Eight, Area Four. - Jim sighed out loud. Pukin glared at him, and he shut his mouth. -Just try, will you. I can’t reach Bobby. You’re the only person this side of the sun who can get us out of this mess.-
Chris didn’t respond, but Jim could feel him sulk though the connection. My god, do the Fagare deal with this from birth? I’d shoot someone.
“I need a break,” he called out. “Your gravity is much higher than ours.” He dropped down to one knee for effect. Hurry up and find us, Chris.
“No breaks”, Pukin shouted. “Get up.” The Razak still carried his sidearm in one hand, but pulled out a silver rod from a holster at his hip. Pukin shoved the device into Jim’s side.
Jim couldn’t describe the sensation. Pain didn’t even begin to do the feeling justice. Every nerve in his body overloaded in a cross between electricity and something more feral. His vision consisted of white with crackling red lines.
Then it stopped. Residual sparks arced across his organs but were now merely painful. Slowly his vision returned. He blinked away the after images, and found Melissa kneeling next to him. She held his hand, but he couldn’t feel lit.
“What did you do to him?” Tears welled in her eyes.
“What I will do to both of you next time you stop. Now get up.”
Jim pushed against the floor with his hands, but the muscles wouldn’t obey his directions. “I can’t move,” he said. Only it came out, “I ah ooh.”
Pukin laughed. “You humans have no tolerance for punishment. That is the setting we use to discipline our children. Maybe the Captain will let me torture you for the crew’s enjoyment instead of giving you a quick death.”
Pukin dragged him up. “Your weakness amuses me, so I will let you live for now. But if you continue to slow us down, I will just kill you instead.” Jim wobbled on his feet. Melissa held on to him as best she could through her bindings.
They passed through another series of corridors. Jim’s head was in no condition to take notice of the turns. Chris would just have to figure it out on his own.
They stopped again. “Angkir,” Pukin greeted another Razak soldier in the hallway. “You have to see this.” Pukin pulled out the stun rod again and pressed it into Jim’s side.
Jim prayed that the pain would be too much this time and he would pass out. The Razak technology seemed too cruel to allow it however. Instead his body jerked as spasmed on the floor until he was unable to control anything but his most basic
functions. Throughout all of it, he maintained the awareness of his surroundings well enough to hear more Razak laughter. “No, no,” Angkir spoke between bursts of shrill laughter. “Krazirk will kill them. There are seven billion of them on their planet. There will be enough for every ship in the fleet to watch and still have useful slaves left over.”
The words pushed through Jim’s fog of pain. The battle wasn’t over. He still had a planet to defend. The spasms stopped as his vision cleared. The two captors weren’t paying any attention to him now, instead discussing logistics of shipping off Earth’s populations for torture and whether they would receive a bounty for the idea.
-I’ve got eyes on you, boss. - Chris’s voice in his head never sounded so good.
-There’re two of them now,- Jim replied.
-I know. I saw what they did. You two need to get away from them somehow so I can get a good shot.
-Dad can barely move,- Melissa protested.
-And they aren’t paying any attention to us, - Jim responded. -Chris, can you get a gun anywhere near me?-
Chris didn’t respond at first. Jim glanced around, trying to figure out where the burly man could be hiding. He moved in quick, jerking motions to maintain the pretense of still suffering from the effects of the stunner.
-Corridor behind you, - Chris said. -If you can get to it, I left you my Bowie and a laser pistol. But first I want you to say something.-
-We don’t have time for this.- Jim risked a glance behind him. The hall that Chris must have been talking about was about five feet away. It would be tough to reach it without arousing suspicion. He kicked a leg out, hopefully looking like a random spasm, and pushed, propelling himself a few inches. The two Razak ignored him. So far, so good.
-Admit you were wrong about me bringing the knife.-
Jim stopped in the middle of another kick. The arrested motion caught the corner of Pukins’s eye. Jim faked another jerk of his body. Satisfied that his prisoner was still secure, Pukin snorted a laugh and returned to his conversation.
-What are you talking about?-
Lost Fagare Ship 2: Absolve Page 2
