by B. C. James
As he was trying to make sense of the scene, Pierce rounded the corner and strode confidently down the corridor toward them. Sharp’s mouth dropped open in dismay, and his legs became jelly. Cormac caught him as he fell, pushing him back against the wall and letting him gently slide down to the deck.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered in his ear. “I didn’t see any other way.”
Sharp looked up at her as he tried to respond, but only managed a short groan before her face blurred into a smear of muted colors and the world faded away into darkness.
***
Cormac raised up from Sharp’s limp body and moved to the control panel. She keyed a few commands, and fresh oxygen rushed into the docking boom. When the levels equalized, the door slid open. The two men on the other side remained still. She crouched next to Baker and produced a small metal can with a triangular mask affixed to one end. “Breathe deep,” she instructed as she pressed the mask over his mouth and nose. As the pure oxygen filled his lungs, consciousness slowly returned to his face
She looked over her shoulder and saw one of the women from Pierce’s crew, Alice, doing the same for Daniels. Soon, the two men were awake enough to be moved to the bench. Cormac handed the oxygen canister off to another woman and looked around, searching for Pierce. All she saw was the limp bodies of Arnold and Sharp being carried off down the hall toward the crew quarters. Pierce was nowhere to be found.
She made her way down the corridor, pushing past her crew member’s drugged bodies. On the bridge, she found Thompson and Pierce conversing in hushed voices. She entered, stepping over Briggs where she had left him unconscious. When the two noticed her, they halted their conversation. Two of Pierce’s crew came up behind her and lifted Briggs body then carried him away. She watched them disappear into a crew cabin and turned back to Pierce.
“Congratulations, Commander,” he said.
“Congratulations for what?” she replied frowning.
“For saving Baker and Daniels, as well as regaining control of the ship with no further casualties.”
She moved deeper into the room and leaned against the bulkhead next to the command chair. “Thanks, I guess,” she said while staring down at the seat. “So, now what do we do?”
“Now we set course for Alpha Centauri,” Pierce declared as he turned to Thompson. “Get down to the cargo section and see how far Lewis progressed on clearing out space for my cargo.”
Thompson seemed to flinch as Pierce said “my cargo”, and he gave her a troubled look as he passed by her on his way out the door.
She pondered the look for a moment then turned back to Pierce. “What exactly is this cargo you’re so intent on taking with us?” she asked.
Pierce peered at her as if trying to decide whether or not to tell her. Alice’s voice came over the comm, breaking the silence before he could answer. “Sir, Baker and Daniels are almost recovered,” she reported.
“Good, have them get back to work on the airlock door. Let me know when they get it open. Have the others help them out as much as possible. The sooner we get that door open, the sooner we can get our mission back on track,” he ordered and closed the comm. He turned his attention back to Cormac. “Do not worry about the cargo,” he said dismissively. “You just worry about getting us to our destination. Now, Commander, if you would be so kind as to unlock the controls.”
She studied his face for any sign of deception or malicious intent as she moved over to the command console. Had she done the right thing? Could she trust this man? What was so important about this cargo that made him willing to steal a ship to protect it? She shook off her doubts. If nothing else, she had saved the lives of two people, and she tried to take solace in that.
“Just remember, Pierce, we have a deal,” she said coldly. “No one else gets hurt, and I’m in command of the Rojo, not you.”
“You have my word, Commander. As long as you take us where we want to go, you will have no problems from us.”
With one last glance up at Pierce, she leaned over and entered her authorization codes into the terminal. The ship was hers now. She should have been overjoyed at having her first command, but all she felt was the cold emptiness of regret.
9
Cargo Bay Three
Sharp’s eyelids slowly parted. The bright overhead lights overwhelmed his vision as his head spun from the sedative. It was the second time he’d been drugged that day, and he was getting a little tired of it.
His body felt like stone, but he managed to lift his heavy head to investigate his surroundings. Through the fog clouding his mind, he recognized his quarters. How did I get here, he wondered. His memory was a black empty void.
With great effort, he rolled to the side of the bunk and dragged his legs over the edge. He heaved himself to a sitting position and attempted to stand. Instead of supporting his weight, his soggy legs gave way, and he slipped off the bed, collapsing to the floor with a thud.
That’s gonna hurt when the sedative wears off, he thought as he lay in a pile on the cold deck plating. The fog was slowly clearing. Its effects were still strong, but he could feel the drug’s grasp uncoiling from around his mind. It was hard to judge the correct dosage when administering a sedative, hard to account for the weight of the patient and their tolerance to chemicals. Sure, a large enough dose would knock someone out, but for how long was another question altogether.
He wiggled his arms, testing to see if they would work before moving them under his body to lift himself off the floor. He had to get control of himself. Whoever had drugged him, could be back at any minute to administer another dose.
As he crawled on his hands and knees toward the door, fractured pieces of memory slipped through the haze. The image of Cormac standing over him in the docking boom corridor flashed into his mind. It held no meaning to him at first, but as more fragmented memories filtered into his consciousness, the vision gained clarity. In his mind, Pierce stood behind Cormac in the corridor. Together, they looked down upon him. It was then he understood what had happened. He had been betrayed.
It took a moment for the full weight of Cormac’s treason to sink in. He slumped against the wall next to the door. His legs stretched toward the center of the room as he sat on the hard deck, thinking of her disloyalty. He had trusted her with his life and his ship, and she had stabbed him in the back. She had stabbed them all in the back. He could never forgive her for what she’d done. She’d gone against his orders, stolen his ship, and handed it over to the enemy. And for what? To save two men who had been accomplices in the murder of one of her own crewmates.
Sorrow washed over him, eroding the sedative-weakened levy holding back the flood of emotion. He clenched his eyelids before the tears could escape and slammed his head back against the hard bulkhead. The sting of physical pain distracted him from his internal suffering long enough for him to regain control. Drawing a deep breath, he pushed the flood deep down into his chest.
He opened his eyes and reached up to switch off the lights. They were making his head pound, and he thought it would be easier to get the drop on an intruder if the room was dark.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the door opened. His wandering mind snapped to attention as someone entered the darkened room. In the light streaming in through the open doorway, a silhouette of a woman stood, a pneumatic syringe clutched in one hand.
Sharp held his breath as she stepped further into the room. The door slid shut behind her, cutting off the light. In the darkness, the woman fumbled for the control panel.
With a rush of adrenaline overpowering his stupor, Sharp swung his legs into the intruder’s shins. The light clicked on as she fell, her hand finding the switch too late for her to see the danger. A cough escaped her as she hit the floor flat on her back. She wheezed, struggling to recover the wind knocked out of her from the fall.
Sharp tried to stand but instead flopped over on top of the intruder, his legs still too unsteady to hold him. She gasped as his weight crashed
onto her chest, driving the breath from her once again. Clumsily, he reached for the syringe still clutched in her hand. He fell short, only catching her by the wrist. He slammed her hand against the floor relentlessly, trying to wrestle the white tube free. She held on valiantly for a few blows before her grip loosened and the tube fell away. He scrambled for it as it rolled across the deck. From behind, the woman leapt onto his back as his fingers brushed the thin tube. Just as he made to grab it, she rolled him over and straddled him, pinning him to the floor.
Before he knew what was happening, a fist smashed into the side of his face. Another followed not far behind, catching him on the other side. As the onslaught of blows rained down upon him, his arms flailed out over the deck, searching for the syringe. Luckily, the sedative was still dulling his pain receptors, and he found the tube despite the beating he was receiving. He clutched his salvation, pressing the thin vial into his palm. Reaching around, he jammed the syringe into the sliver of skin that had become exposed beneath the hem of his attacker’s shirt. Her pummeling ceased as she realized what he was doing, but it was too late. He clicked the release lever, and the contents of the vial shot into her flesh. It would take longer to enter her bloodstream from there, but it was the best he could manage under the circumstances.
The woman stood and pawed at her side as if she could draw the injection out by brushing it away. She looked down at him, mouth agape, as the sedative took hold. She spun and wobbled toward the door.
Still on the deck, Sharp grabbed for her feet, attempting to trip her up. Stumbling, she fell against the door, and he frantically held onto her legs as her efforts to kick him away slowly subsided. Soon, the woman collapsed down on top of him unconscious, pinning him to the floor once more.
With the woman’s weight like a lead blanket covering him, Sharp lay there catching his breath as the pain from his battered face crept through the waning mixture of adrenaline and sedative.
After he could breathe again, he wriggled his way free and sat up, leaning against the wall. He stayed there for what seemed like ages, his mind dipping in and out of dream and reality.
With the sedative still slowing him down, he eventually staggered to his feet. He locked the door from the inside before taking the unconscious woman by the wrists and dragging her to his bunk. Still holding her arms, he sat down on the edge and tried to work up the energy to lift her. Somehow, he heaved her into the bed. He covered her up, being careful to mask her identity. Anyone taking a quick glance from the doorway would hopefully be fooled into thinking it was him under the blankets.
He stumbled back to the door and after shutting off the lights cracked it open. Leaning heavily against the door frame, he peeked through the narrow gap. Voices approached from down the corridor, and he quickly slid the hatch shut and latched it as quietly as possible. Unable to hear them through the thick door, he waited until he was sure they had passed then pulled it open again. He held his breath, watching and listening for any sign of life in the hallway. When he was satisfied it was clear, he opened the door fully and stepped out into the corridor.
Feeling exposed, Sharp hugged the curved bulkhead for support as he inched down the quiet hallway. A few meters down from his door, he ducked around a stack of containers and found himself facing a ladder leading up to the maintenance tunnel that ran above the hallway. With his heavy eyelids blinking slowly, he paused, leaning against the ladder to rest his weakened muscles. Reaching up to the rung above his head, he pulled himself up one step, then another. He paused again to rest, struggling against the dwindling, yet still potent, effects of the sedative.
The clang of heavy boots against metal rang through the corridor. Sharp froze on the ladder. The sound grew louder as someone approached his location. He looked over his shoulder, expecting himself to be in plain sight of the interloper. Instead, he found the stacked containers formed a protective alcove, shielding him from view. He’d have to thank Arnold for that, that is if he ever saw him again. Sharp was still uncertain of his chances of survival.
Although relieved he was hidden, the boots were still walking in his direction. The danger roused him from his rest, and he gripped the rungs and pulled hard up the ladder. Through sheer force of will, he scaled the distance to the access hatch. The footsteps were closing in as he pulled on the handle. It didn’t budge, and his heart sank with despair. The clanging boots were nearly upon him now, their thumping melodic pace drawing him ever nearer to capture. He yanked the handle again, this time putting the weight of his whole body behind it, and it broke loose, releasing the latch mechanism. He pushed hard against the bronze-colored hatch, and it sprang up into the maintenance tunnel. With his last bit of reserve strength, he hoisted his fatigued body up into the safety of the hole. With no time to close the hatch behind him, he listened as the footsteps closed in on his position, hoping they wouldn’t notice the open hatch in the ceiling. He held his breath as the person passed below. He fully expected them to pause, but the clang of boots continued on and grew quieter as they moved away.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Sharp reached over and gently lowered the access hatch before slumping onto the floor of the tunnel, exhausted. He wished he could stop by the galley for a cup of coffee. He could sure use the caffeine boost right about now. Reveling in the thought of the hot beverage, he raised up on hands and knees and crawled toward the rear of the ship, making sure to not smack his head on the low hanging girders placed every few meters.
His progress was slow, and on his frequent stops to rest, his mind wandered, touching on the recent events. His memory had mostly returned, and he thought of the Endurance. He thought of Pierce and his unwavering obsession with his mission. He thought of Arnold. Sharp would’ve bet if anyone was going to betray him, it would’ve been him. But Arnold had proven to be more loyal than his trusted first officer. He grimaced as Cormac’s actions entered his mind. After all he’d done for her, her betrayal stung deep. He had taken her on as first officer when no one else would have her. He suspected he knew why that was now. His hurt twisted into anger as his thoughts turned to Franklin’s lifeless corpse and Morales’ battered face. The rage fueled him, and with renewed energy, he pulled himself farther down the cramped tunnel.
He wasn’t sure what had happened on the ship after he was drugged. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been sedated. All he knew was Pierce was most likely in control, and judging by the relative silence on the ship, they hadn’t yet gone to warp. If he could make it to engineering, he could use the auxiliary controls there to get an idea of the situation and form a plan of action. He intended to reclaim his ship by any means necessary.
His knees ached as they dug into the metal grating on the floor of the tunnel, but bit by bit he pulled himself onward. He came to the hatch leading from the habitat section to the cargo section. It creaked with rusted age as he pulled it open. This tunnel didn’t see much use.
He paused on the other side of the hatch to rest. Now that he was above the cargo corridor, he remembered Pierce’s insistence on getting his cargo on board the Rojo. A cargo he knew to be the driving factor in Pierce’s takeover. He wondered if enough time had passed for Pierce to transfer his cargo onto the ship. If he had, it was something he could use as leverage against Pierce. It was all he seemed to care about, more than his ship or even his crew. It was worth a shot.
Sharp moved to the nearest access hatch and opened it quietly. He held onto the metal grating, his fingers intertwining with the small squares as he poked his head down into the cargo corridor. A voice drifted from down the hallway, and looking in that direction, he saw Commander Thompson standing next to the door to cargo bay three. He listened as Thompson spoke into the comm panel on the wall. “The cargo is on board and secured, Sir,” he reported.
“Good work, Commander,” Pierce’s voice came back through the speaker. “Lock it up and get back to the bridge, we are preparing to get underway.”
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Thompson replied then clicked of
f the comm. He pulled the door closed and entered the lock command into the panel. Large metal bolts slid into place on the door, and he turned to leave. Sharp quickly pulled his head back into the safety of the maintenance tunnel and held his breath as he listened to Thompson walk to the exit hatch. Sharp waited a few moments after he had left, making sure no one else was present in the hallway below then stealthily climbed down the ladder. His body was responding better as the sedative continued to wear off, and he walked the distance to bay three without stumbling or making too much of a racket.
He tried the panel next to the door. The unlock command refused to respond. Cormac must have locked it out from the bridge. Although he could still override the lock with his own command codes, he knew doing so would alert the bridge he’d opened the door. But he had to get in to see what was so important about Pierce’s cargo. He would have to take the chance, and he would have to be quick about it.
He took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” he whispered to himself as he punched in his command code. The indicator light above the panel switched from red to green, and the cam bolt mechanism on the door rotated, pulling the metal bolts out of the notches in the door frame. He reached for the handle and swung the door open. He hurried inside the cargo bay and pulled the heavy metal hatch closed behind him. He locked it, but knowing Cormac could override his codes just as easily as he had hers, he found a cargo strap made of thick yellow webbing and looped one end through the handle then the other around a steel support beam adjacent to the door. It would at least slow them down, he thought as he turned to scan the bay.
Cargo bay three had formerly housed a shipment of Candarian spine fruit, a delicacy found only on Seplus VI and prized throughout the Central Core. Its fearsome spiked husk protected its tender pink flesh that in the small window of time it was ripe produced a succulent flavor which lingered on the tongue hours after being consumed. The cargo bay was kept at a low temperature and filled with inert gas, effectively delaying the maturation of the fruit until it reached its destination. Being that he could breathe, Sharp assumed the inert gas had been purged and replaced by a more oxygen-rich atmosphere. The temperature, however, remained low, and he shivered as he saw the frigid cargo bay was now nearly empty, not a single spine fruit to be seen. The Unified Fruit Company wasn’t going to like that, he thought while imagining an expensive trail of the delicious spiked produce drifting off into space behind them.
