by Rob Buckman
“Oh, right, forgot about that.”
“The Sirriens would definitely like to have a look at what's inside, if they can.”
Courier service pilots were a resourceful lot, chosen mainly for their self-reliance and ability to get out of tight quarters. The fact Jimmy had tricked the Sirrien destroyer to lock onto his ship while they made their escape was proof of that. Even so, there were still a few unanswered questions; but this wasn't the time or place to ask them. Even he was beginning to see there was more to this rescue mission than met the eye. He felt jittery just standing around and the longer they stayed here the more chance of them being caught.
“Petty Officer Blake?”
“Aye, Sir.”
“We need to find a missing member of this party, a King's messenger no less. Have Sergeant Rice get his men to send out their bumblebees and scout around. See if we can find her in one of the other building.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
“We don't have much time, so tell him to put a shoofty in it.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.” He replied, smiling at Mike's terminology.
He hadn't heard that one for a long time. To be on the safe side, Mike had two men escort the group to the rendezvous point. The other four went, but Jimmy Bettencourt stayed behind. Mike said nothing, knowing how the man felt. He'd want to be there to help if needed be when they went to get the missing member of his party. Mike started getting nervous when none of Sergeant Rice's men reported back. There were a few clicks on the headset, as each man checked back with a negative finding.
“Do you have any idea where they might have taken them Jimmy?”
“No, laddy, can't say that I have, except...” He paused a moment, stroking his chin. "We did pass some sort of Hacienda on the way in. You know, one of those big fancy houses that some of the first landers like to build. They could have taken her there.”
“I know what you mean. Where is this house?”
“Follow me, I'll take you.”
“Conner. I'm going with Captain Bettencourt to check out a possible location for the last survivor.”
“Aye-aye, Sir. Stay in touch.”
“Will do. If I find them, I'll signal with four clicks and you can home in on my locator.”
“Aye-aye, Sir. Take care out there.” He said with a chuckle. So far, they hadn't run into anything he couldn't handle. No regular military personnel, just local militia, but that was no guarantee they wouldn't turn up.
They took off across the park as the pearly light of the gas giant waned. Dawn was not far away, maybe two, three hours at the most, so he hurried Jimmy along as fast as he dared. They made good time through the tree, crossing two weedy little steams on the way and Mike opted to get wet rather than waste time looking for a bridge. The water felt icy cold, and he heard Jimmy muttering something about ruining his love life for a year. He smiled, wincing himself as the water crept through his underwear. They reached the house in fifteen minutes, and other than a light in one window on the second floor, the rest of the house was dark. It didn't take an Admiral to figure out that's probably where they were if she was in there. Mike pointed at the front door, and Jimmy nodded, hefting his borrowed side arm as he followed along. Mike eyed it, then handed him his blast rifle.
“Jimmy, are you wired?”
“Yes, laddy.” The rifle would work for him, if he needed it.
“Good.” Mike whispered as he handed his rifle over and pulled his sidearm.
“It might be a little tight in there for a rifle.”
“Agreed. It will also give me something a little more powerful than a side arm in case.”
“Take care Jimmy.”
Much to Mike's relief the front door stood unguarded. He wanted to do this as quickly and as quietly as possible. If she weren't here and not just some local working late, he didn't want to set off any alarms. Signaling for Jimmy to guard the front door, he left muddy footprint across the polished wooden floor as he tiptoed up the staircase. This was carpeted so he took them two at the time.
The built in 'starlight' imager in the battle helmet turned everything to green, and shades of gray with the occasional bright pink spots where people had walked up the stairs some time before. On a hunch, he followed the footprints and it wasn't long before he saw the bright green glow from under a door. The brighter footprints lead straight to it. Now the question was how to get a look in without disturbing those inside. Like many older houses, this one didn't have modern electronic locks or sliding steel door, but old fashion wood doors and key locks. It was just a matter of flipping the visor up and kneeling. He pressed his ear to the wood panel, hearing voices inside before pressing his eye to the keyhole. The view was limited, but he was able to see part of the room. What he saw, he didn't like. With utmost care, he slowly turned the door handle until the latch came free then pushed ever so gently, holding his breath. Thankfully, the hinges didn't squeak, and hefting his sidearm, he eased the door open a crack. Now he had a better view into the room, and someone was obviously working late, but for what reason Mike didn't know. Standing up, he changed his angle of view slightly, and sucked his breath in at what he saw. Jimmy was right, she was a looker, and Mike got the joke about the buffalo. Too many teeth, scraggly, mousy brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses over bushy eyebrows and dull cow brown eyes, but she did have a body on her.
The tall, slim, plain faced young woman stood to one side of a large desk, held between two black uniformed, beefy looking men. Another one, a thin looking individual stood by a desk, looking at a bright silver cylinder he held in his hand. On the desk beside him sat the dispatch case, and from the battered condition they'd made more than one attempt to open it. The thin man's face held a sneer, but what drew Mike's attention and amusement was the monocle the man wore over one eye. He heard his grandfather talk about those, but he'd never thought he'd ever see someone wearing one, not in this day and age. At another time and place, it might be funny and might have laughed, but not now. The man stood there, rubbing the knuckles of his left hand, undoubtedly sore from pounding on the case, or the girl.
“This is your last chance to tell me the combination of the case!” The man snapped, brushing a lock of blond hair back from his high forehead.
“I told you! I have no idea what the combination is. I'm just the courier, and that is just something I picked up at a curio shop…” She nodded towards the cylinder.
“And even if you did know the combination you wouldn't tell me, right?” The smile on his face wasn't nice.
“That's right!” She snapped back. “Don't you know anything? The courier never has the combination for anything they carry.” Yet even to Mike it didn't ring true. The blond man just smiled.
“That maybe so, but it will be fun finding out, now won't it.” He walked towards her. “Fun for me, that is, painful and humiliating for you.”
“What…”
“Strip the bitch and lay her over the desk.”
“What! You… you bastard!” She yelled as one man reached round to unzip the front of her flight suit.
The thin man looked at her a moment, a sneer twisting his lips. Two quick strides and he stood in front of her, his left hand slapping her back and forth across the face, knocking her glasses off. Her head rocked sideways from the blow and she jerked in the men's grip. Blood trickled from her nose and lip and she shook her head, trying to clear her vision. She then spat in the man's face. Taking out a silk handkerchief the man carefully wiped off the spit, a slight sneer pulling at the corner of his lips.
“You will tell me the combination of the case, and what this cylinder is for, sooner or later. I have all the time in the world. Between my administration and that of my men, you will tell me.”
“What! What do you mean?” Mike saw the girl shudder. The thin man giggles, his face pulling into a caricature of a laugh.
“You have three perfectly good places for my men to use and between the whip and their propensity for abusing females, all three hole
s will be royally fucked.” He snarled as he reached up and ripped the front of her flight suit open.
“Get the bitch stripped!” He snapped as he walked back over to the desk and picked up a riding crop. “A good flogging should bring this stupid cunt to heel.” He giggled as the girl started fighting like a wild cat as the two men began pulling her flight suit off her shoulders.
“I'm sure you can be persuaded to disclose the information I need.” His laugh had a nasty edge to it. “If not, two or three days of getting fucked in all your holes, will change your mind.” He laughed again as he smacked the riding crop against his thigh. It was too much for Mike. 'You sick son of a-' Mike muttered, and slipping the safety catch off on his side arm kicked the door open.
Even as he steadied his aim on the man with the monocle someone came out from behind the door and knocked it out of alignment just as he touched the firing stud. By pure chance the blast hit the dispatch case, blowing it off the desk. The only thing left of the lock was a smoking hole, and the case flew across the room and smashed into the wall, breaking open. The documents inside scattering like confetti before the destruct mechanism could ignite, filling the room with a flash of pure white light and gray smoke. So much for the element of surprise, Mike thought as the man standing behind the door tackled him. Unlike his fellow Officer's, Mike didn't believe in the Marquis of Queensbury rules for fighting. The object here was to win, not style. As the man grabbed him, Mike went for the face, jamming a thumb into the man's eye as hard as he could. The blond haired man screamed and let go, but Mike only had a split second before the man's identical twin, was on him. Mike saw the blow coming, and dropping his weapon he grabbed his shirtfront and rolled backwards. The second man flipped over his head, propelled by 1.3 gravity muscles on a .9 world, smashed into the wall with the force of a battering ram, followed by a loud 'thud' and the sound of shattering wood and plaster. Mike rolled over and came to his feet, taking two quick steps to kick the man under the chin as he started to get up. The man groaned and fell back, unconscious or dead.
“Duck!” A woman's voice screamed, and instinctively he did.
A blaster bolt blew a smoking hole in the wall beside him, instead of his head. He rolled sideways and scooped up his side arm, fired and rolled again; hitting the man he'd stabbed in the eyes, killing him. Another shot, burned its way across the carpet, barely missing him and swinging round, he took a snap shot at the thin man behind the desk. He missed as the man ducked. Instead of trying for another shot, the man grabbed a handful of documents and bolted for a side door. Mike swore as the man crashed through, and vanished before he could get another clear shot at him. Then he had the two men holding the struggling girl to worry about. Mike blinked, then took a quick look at the other two men as one let go of the girl and charged him. He didn't waste time, simply shot him, stepping over the body as it hit the floor.
“Must be identical triplets.” He muttered. The girl was doing her best to keep the last one occupied, for which he was grateful.
Rather than get mixed up with them, Mike simply did a body slam, bring them all to the floor. The girl kicked and tore at the man's face, going for the eyes until the man simply slapped her away and rolled towards Mike, hoping to catch him off guard as he stood up. He wasn't, as the man lunged, he sidestepped and kicked him in the head, hard. The man let out a soft sigh, collapsing to the floor and lay still.
“Well, it's about time! Where have you been?” The girl yelled, pulling her flight suit up and zipping it closed.
“What?” Mike asked in surprise, blushing as he'd been staring at her exposed breasts. She didn't miss where he was looking, letting out a snort as she shook her head. The look she threw him was half way between contempt and disgust as she turned away and finished zipping up her flight suit.
“I suppose you're part of the rescue team, right?”
“I am the rescue team. Ensign Gray.” He tore his eyes away from her body and checked the men on the floor. “Let's get the hell out of here before the other man come back with more of his friends.” Even as he spoke, blaster bolts sounded outside, and by the sound of it, Jimmy was mixed up in a fire fight down in the entrance way.
“The document… the cylinder!”
“Screw the damn documents; we've got to get the hell out of here, now!” Mike yelled, lunging towards her.
“Those documents are my responsibility.” The girl yelled. With a growl, Mike began to scoop up paper as fast as he could.
“Damn it! Where is my pouch?” Instead of helping him, she immediately began ripping draws open.
“Your pouch?” Mike gritted his teeth in fury.
“Yes, there's something important in it that I don't want to lose.”
“Your power puff and lipstick no doubt!” He snarled.
She didn't deem to help him, just found her pouch, and began checking the contents before snapping it around her waist. The silver cylinder vanished inside, and for a moment Mike had the impression she was more worried about that than the documents. The dispatch case was useless, so Mike just stuffed the paper into his pockets. As he did, the side door crashed open, and a shot skimmed by his head. Without even looking Mike drew and fired. His aim was better and whoever it was groaned, and fell back out of sight.
“We go now!” He didn't give her a chance to refuse, simply grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her with him.
“Wait a minute, you can't…” He didn't wait, just kept dragging her towards the staircase. They made it as far as the top before meeting any resistance. A volley of shot blasting holes in the wall brought him to a skidding halt.
“Christ on a crutch!” He muttered, ducking back.
“There is no need for such profanity, especially from an Officer.”
“At the moment I'm just a man who's about to get his ass shot off. Now move it lady! Back that way!” He pushed her roughly back up the hallway, sending a couple of shots down the stairwell to discourage anyone coming up. Spotting at circuit panel he took a shot, plunging the whole floor into darkness in a shower of blue and white sparks. He ran, dragging the girl behind him.
“Shit!” The girl muttered as she ran into a wall.
“Careful Princess. We don't want you to injure yourself.” He chuckled, grimly.
“What! What did you call me?”
“Nothing, just a joke.” Mike flipped his visor down, and grabbing her by the hand took off down the next hallway.
“Ouch! Don't pull so hard.” She complained, jerking her arm back.
Mike held tight, ignoring her complaints as he desperately looked for a way out. The hallway turn again and he took it, not sure which way he was going now, the HUD compass useless without a point of reference. It didn't matter; they just had to get out of the building. He'd worry about direction later. Behind him, he could hear shouted commands, and the occasional blaster shot, but whoever it was obviously didn't have night vision equipment, at least not here. Dim pearly light shorn through a window at the far end of the corridor and without hesitation Mike headed that way. One quick look through the window and he knew they couldn't make it. Below he could see the roof of a patio of some sort, but doubted it was strong enough to support their combine weight. The next second he didn't have a choice as a shot plowed a smoking hole in the wall. Scooping the protesting girl into his arm, Mike backed off and took three running steps before crashing through the window. With the girl screaming in his ear, he landed awkwardly in a shower of broken glass and wood, the roof swaying and creaked ominously under them.
“You bloody maniac! You could have got us both killed!” The girl yelled, struggling in his arms.
“Would you prefer I leave you to the tender mercies of your boyfriend back there?”
“No! But you might have warned me…” The girl screamed as the roof gave way.
Mike didn’t even have time to brace for himself for impact as they plunged through, landing on his back with the girl on top of him. Thankfully, they landed in to sort of garden, an
d the soft, spongy earth absorbed the impact, but he lost his helmet in the process. Staggering to his feet, he grabbed her arm again and took off running, turning sideways just as he hit the wood and glass doors leading outside. He crashed through, hearing the girl swear again. Once outside, there was sufficient light for them to see, and pulling her after him as he headed for the nearest clump of trees. A few shots followed them, but wide of the mark, so it was possible that the people in the house couldn’t see exactly which way they were running. Just in case, Mike changed direction every ten seconds, remembering his grandfather’s lesson about escape and evasion. Most people will run in a straight line when escaping, and so will their pursuers, so, never run in a straight line. He knew he had to go to ground soon, and find a hiding place as the sun would be up in less than twenty minutes. By that time, they’d needed to vanish. It didn’t take long before he found himself back in the jungle surrounding the town, and a shallow, slow moving stream. Dragging the protesting girl with him, he plunged into the stream, first splashing their way upstream, then turning around and heading back the way they come.
