by PJ Strebor
Nathan reached out, trying to find an escape route. He found only danger, getting closer. Not wishing to fight on all sides he selected the least dangerous path and began running toward it. Grinding to a halt at a corridor intersection, he waited. Muffled voices coming closer. He gestured to Bessell to hand him his sidearm. The Commander frowned but complied. With a pistol in each hand he waited until the squad was almost on top of him.
Stepping into the corridor Nathan fired both weapons. The astonished guards weren’t prepared for such a reckless attack and all five dropped to the deck. He had exhausted his power pack and slapped a fresh magazine into his pistol. Striding to the fallen guards he took their extra magazines and an additional pistol. Bessel and he strapped them on and proceeded forward, which appeared to be relatively safe. Nathan could sense the other groups of guards who continued to close in on them, rapidly.
They jogged on but guards continued to close with them. By a wild turn of circumstance they found themselves back at the administrator’s office. Danger behind the door but not as much as before. Three men clumped together on the other side of the hatch. Nathan hit the admit button and as the door opened he fired. Two guards went down, their weapons half-raised. The element of surprise had worked again. He and Bessell stepped inside.
“Captain Clement?” Nathan asked.
A curt nod. Nathan holstered his sidearms and held out his hand.
“Your sidearm, Captain.”
Clement stood, unbuckled his weapon and dropped it onto the desk.
“Keep an eye on him, Commander.”
“Right.”
Nathan examined the only hatch leading into the room. He couldn’t find a locking mechanism.
“Captain, lock the hatch.”
Another grim nod from the Captain. Clement activated a panel on his desk.
Nathan’s back flared. He reached for his pistol.
The stun field covered the entire room except for the administrator’s desk area. Blinding pain tore through Nathan’s body for three seconds. When the field dropped, his legs buckled and merciful unconsciousness ended his agony.
CHAPTER 57
Date: 24th October, 326 ASC.
Position: E 692, planet Atrius. Northern Quarantine Zone.
Ensign Winkler said. “He’s an hour overdue for his check in. Does he strike you as the sort of man who would do that, COB?”
Chief Petty Officer Kellerman didn’t care for the Athenian, but had to admit that he’d kept them alive for longer than he expected.
“No,” Kellerman replied.
“So, what’s going on? What do we do?”
“You’re in charge, Ensign.”
“COB, you have twice my experience. I’m asking for your help.”
Kellerman leaned back in the Captain’s chair and briefly considered the situation.
“It’s possible that they’re onto us, in which case we’re fucked. Hmm, if we had weapons I’d say let’s go get him, but we don’t. One thing’s for certain. We’ll never get out of here without our pilot.”
“Then what do we do?” Winkler asked.
“How many naval personnel on the base?”
“Eighty-two. Fifty-six of them are guards, the rest admin and services staff.”“Hmm, fifty-six against eighteen. Not good odds.”
“Eighteen? Don’t you mean nineteen?” Winkler said.
“Someone has to hold down the fort and you’re it.”
“I want to help.”
“Have you ever killed a man?” Kellerman asked.
Winkler shook his head.
“Well, most of the crew have. Especially Hoppe. And he’s the biggest brawler in E boat command.”
“Very well, COB, what’ve you got in mind?”
An hour later Kellerman and Hoppe left the boat and made their way to the nearest airlock. They’d stopped off at Kellerman’s quarters to pick up weapons they weren’t supposed to have.
Kellerman hit the admit button and the hatch slid open. Two guards sprang to attention and leveled their rifles at the two of them. The COB held up his hands and laughed.
“Hey guys, take it easy. We’re all in the same navy, right?”
He followed the guard’s eyes as they tracked to where their sidearms would normally rest. They relaxed, lowering the rifles. Internally, Kellerman shook his head.
“You can’t come onto the base,” the larger of the two guards said. “Captain’s orders.”
“We can’t even use your mess?” Kellerman asked. “Our cook’s a shocker.” He took a casual step toward them.
“Sorry Chief, I’d like to help you out but the Captain would skin me alive.”
Kellerman was almost close enough. His shoulders slumped feigning defeat and he turned to Hoppe.
“See, I told you they wouldn’t let us in.” Hoppe shrugged. “You’re a fuck-head, Hoppe.”
As agreed Hoppe hit him and he fell back into the two guards. As he fell he drew his knife from the sheath jammed into the small of his back and stabbed it into the guard’s throat. Hoppe hit the other with enough force to brain him. He followed up with a brutal kick to the throat, ending any further threat. He grinned like a crazy man.
“So,” Hoppe said, “Only fifty-four to go.”
They relieved the guards of their weapons. Kellerman called the boat.
“All good to send the others over, Lieutenant.”
“They’re on their way.”
CHAPTER 58
Date: 24th October, 326 ASC.
Position: Pruessen Naval prison eight-niner. Planet Atrius. Northern Quarantine Zone.
Consciousness returned slowly, and with each new breath Nathan discovered another part of his body that screamed in pain. He’d been stunned before but this was at another level of mind-numbing agony. The anguish seared into his muscles and even his bones. Breathing deeply, he recited the mantra.
“It’s nothing, it don’t mean a thing.” Slowly, so slowly, he started to move until, with a final hissing breath, he sat upright with his back against the wall. He lay on a narrow and none too comfortable bunk, within a small cell. A table stood in the far corner, coffee water and condiments strewn across it.
Commander Bessell lay comatose on the other cot.
Lucky him.
He took in the surroundings and as he expected a monitor blinked from above the only entrance.
The pain continued to run throughout his body like a million slivers of razor-sharp ice.
It’s nothing, it don’t mean a thing.
Flexing his muscles he tried to generate some blood flow. It slowly started to work. So, what to do? Call the boat for help? They’ve taken our external comms. And what can nineteen unarmed sailors do against a place designed to keep people in. Escape?
A locked hatch barred any escape attempts. He assumed it was locked, but wasn’t capable of walking the short distance to check it.
Bessell groaned. Nathan fell to his knees and somehow made it to the Commander’s bunk. “Bessell, breathe through it. Try flexing your muscles. Get some blood flow.”
The Commander groaned with the effort.
Nathan slumped to the deck.
***
Kellerman led his team of eight deeper into the prison. So far they’d relieved six more guards of their weapons and their lives. Only forty-eight to go. Being outnumbered by odds of nearly three to one, Kellerman decided that no quarter could be given to any guard in the prison. He couldn’t afford to leave his flanks exposed so had no real choice.
Ahead his flankers held up closed fists. He went down on one knee and sighted along his rifle’s barrel. As the first guard rounded the corner Kellerman cut him down. Sprinting after the other guards he and Hoppe fired automatic bursts into the corridor until they exhausted their magazines. Five bodies lay on the floor. The coup de grace was delivered to any who were not killed outright. A total of six struck from the total. Forty two to go. Now all of his team had weapons.
Ensign Winkler had run scans of the compl
ex but could give only rough coordinates for what might be the location of the surveillance section. As long as the guards could see them coming they would be at a major disadvantage. In the next twenty minutes his team killed five more guards and lost two of their own. Ahead his lone flanker held up his fist and pumped it vigorously. The COB jogged to the hatch with the words Surveillance stenciled onto it. Not expecting a response he hit the admit button. The hatch slid open and he took a quick look inside. Empty. His team filed inside. They’d been examining the computer readout and images for only five minutes when the hatch opened. A guard, with a sandwich stuffed into his fat mouth, froze in place. Kellerman clicked his pistol’s setting to stun, motioned the guard into the room and read his nametag.
“Hinkle, are you the surveillance officer.”
With a mouthful of food he could only nod.
“Good, you’re working for me now.”
***
The hypo hissed into Nathan’s neck. Such was the relief that he could have kissed the prison doctor. Bessell groaned when he got his shot.
“The Captain will want you lucid, when he interrogates you,” the doctor said. “If it was up to me I’d execute both of you traitors.”
“Since you’re done with us,” Bessell said, “I suppose that you may as well fuck off.”
Nathan snorted.
The doctor’s eyes flared with unadulterated loathing. He turned on his heel and left.
Nathan tried to stand and on the third attempt made it. His head swam so he slumped onto his bunk.
Twenty minutes passed before the medication took hold and he could walk again. From a table Nathan filled two mugs with water. He noted the range of condiments. Sugar, salt, pepper. Handing one mug of water to Bessell he drank the other.
“More,” Bessell said.
Nathan handed the commander another drink and held his mug in hand. The hatch opened and two guards stepped through, their pulsar rifles at the ready. Captain Clement stood between them. He stared firstly at Bessell then Nathan. An appraising examination.
“You and your crew,” he said to Bessell, “are already dead. You must know that. It is a fitting end to all who would betray the Empire. Luckily for us, we knew of your treachery before you arrived. Your boat is fast but not as fast as a courier boat. God knows what you would have done if we hadn’t been forewarned.”
“We would have taken what we needed and been on our way,” Bessell said.
“What do we have that you need?”
“Trained naval personnel.”
Clement laughed. “The prisoners? Ha, they’d cut your throat the second you turned your back on them. They’re psychopaths, every last one of them.” He shook his head. “Prisoners.” He sobered. “What I want from you two is answers.”
“Then try asking a fucking question,” Bessell snapped.
Clement smiled in a way that he thought to be intimidating. It wasn’t.
“Back on Reynolds, why did you attack your own squadron?”
“He didn’t,” Nathan said. “I did.”
“You? You did all that damage? All by yourself?”
“Yep.” He swirled the contents of his mug and continued to flex his leg muscles.
“Why would you do something that is tantamount to suicide?” Clement asked. “You must have known you didn’t stand a chance of escaping.”
“I needed a boat. E692 was closest, so I took it. I didn’t want the rest of the squadron chasing me down so I crippled them.”
“I’ll give you credit, Vogel, you’re bold,” Clement said. “For now at least. But there’s someone who wants you back in one piece. He’ll be here in a short time. His name is Reinhardt. Heard of him?”
“The name rings a bell.” Nathan held his gaze for a moment. “All right, you’ve got me. Good for you. But the crew had nothing to do with it. They are blameless.”
“They allowed you to do what you did without stopping you. Twenty of them and only one of you. They should have prevented you from seizing their boat. They didn’t so they’re as guilty as you.”
Nathan suspected as much, but had to give it a try. Be caught by Reinhardt? No, that didn’t work for him. Both guards had lowered their rifles. He swirled the contents of his mug. It contained three parts water to two parts salt. Throwing the contents at Clement and the guards was only partially successful. Clement and the guard to his right got a good dose in their eyes. The one to his left got nothing. Nathan pushed Clement back pinning the unaffected guard to the bulkhead. The blinded guard wiped at his eyes and groped for his sidearm. Nathan couldn’t hold Clement and fight the guard at the same time. Bessell staggered past and fell onto the guard who’d brought his sidearm to hand. Bessell struck him once, a shattering blow that stunned him. Although exhausted he took hold of the pistol and lobbed it to Nathan, who caught it in his right hand and set it to kill. He pressed the barrel under Clement’s chin. The Captain stopped struggling, but the guard behind him continued to try for his sidearm. Nathan saw fireflies in his vision and knew he would pass out soon.
“Guard, disarm immediately or I’ll kill your Captain.”
“Do it!” Clement shrieked.
The guard finally drew his sidearm.
“Guard disarm immediately!” Clements shouted. “That’s an order.”
“Fuck you Captain!” the guard snarled. “You’ll be killed by a prisoner, not by me. And that suits me fine, you fucking gutless paper pusher.”
Nathan felt his head swimming and his knees beginning to buckle. He swung about, pressed the barrel against the side of the guard’s head and fired. The guard stopped moving. With the last of his energy, Nathan threw Clement to the deck before sliding down the hatch coaming till he rested on the deck. The darkness closed in on him, irresistible, welcoming. Pass out and you’re dead.
The guard knocked out by Bessell began to stir. Nathan shot him through his left eye.
“That’s cold-blooded murder,” Clement said.
“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around Pruessens for way too long. Picked up some nasty habits.”
He kept breathing deeply until his vision began to clear. Clement eyed him and began to move. Nathan grazed his boot with a short burst from his pistol.
“You can’t escape,” Clements said. “I still have over fifty guards. Surrender now.”
“No thanks,” Nathan said. “Now shut the fuck up.”
It took fifteen minutes before Nathan could stand again. Bessell managed to prop himself up against a wall. Clements had remained grimly silent.
Nathan knelt down beside Bessell. “Can you walk?”
“I’ll try.”
Nathan helped him to his feet but he could tell that the Commander wouldn’t last for long. The man had to be thirty years his senior.
“Clement, get over here,” Nathan ordered.
The Captain complied.
“Support the Commander.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“You’re taking us to your surveillance department.”
“What if I refuse?” Clement said.
Nathan struck out, breaking his nose. “Don’t test me, Clement.”
Once he’d recovered, Clement led them through the prison.
“How far?” Nathan asked.
“Not far.”
Nathan could sense his hostility and knew better than to trust him. He would break something more significant if the square head pushed his luck.
They moved on until Bessell could go no further. The Commander slumped to the deck, his eyes closing.
“How far?” Nathan asked.
“Not too far,” Clement said.
Nathan struck out with a sharp front kick. Clement screamed as his left elbow shattered.
“You fucker. I’ll see you dead,” he screamed, tears streaking his face.
Nathan came eye to eye with him. “How far?”
“Two corridors over.”
Nathan’s back flared. He raised his rifle as a head poked around the corne
r. Firing an automatic burst he ran to the corner and risked a quick look into the corridor. Nathan just caught the guard as he disappeared around a corner.
Bad, bad.
He heard the sound of boots on deck plates coming from an adjacent corridor and more from behind. They’d boxed him in. The first group fired from the corridor he’d just come from. They were still using the stun setting. Using Clement as a shield Nathan returned fire catching one of them in the arm. He turned as another group began firing from the other direction. It was only a matter of time before they’d hit him. Dropping the rifle he brought his sidearm to hand, grabbed Clement by his hair and pushed the barrel of his pistol under the square head’s jaw. Nathan backed away, pinning his back to the bulkhead.
“Cease fire or I’ll kill your Captain,” Nathan shouted.
“I’m coming out,” a voice said. “Hold your fire.”
“Very well,” Nathan said. This will be the negotiator.
A man stepped into the corridor and holstered his sidearm.
“I’m Commander Styles, second-in-command of this facility.”
“Say your piece, Commander,” Nathan said.
“You can’t escape,” Styles said. “Even if you made it to your boat, and even if you get through the hatch, our missile defenses would knock you down before you get air under your keel. So stop this nonsense.”
“I still have your Captain, so you will—”
Styles nodded once. A guard stepped out with his rifle raised. Nathan took cover behind Clement. The guard fired. Nathan shot him in the chest with a lethal pulsar shot. Styles remained where he was, his hands folded across his chest.
Clement slipped through Nathan’s hands like dead weight and fell to the deck, dead. He’d been shot through the head.
Nathan sensed movement from behind. He raised the barrel of his pistol, pushed it under his chin and stared at Styles.
“I won’t be taken alive, Styles. Attempt to stun me and I’ll pull the trigger. I’m certain that Captain Reinhardt won’t be happy with that result. You and your lot will have the HRS all over your case; if you live that long.”
