Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid

by S M Briscoe

  Next to her, Orna’s demeanor was inexplicably neutral as she watched him enter the hold, the events of the past few hours apparently having no effect on her. Sierra seemed more comfortable in conflict than anyone he had ever met, but he could still see when she made that transition into combat induced, steely resolve. Orna was different. There was no way of gauging her emotions or mind set from one moment to the next. She seemed to have the same reaction to anything from passing traffic to an explosion next to her head, which was really no reaction at all, except to say that she took notice of it. She noticed everything for that matter. Always watching. Quietly observing. As if she knew something everyone else didn’t. It was unsettling, but at the same time, strangely comforting.

  Orna’s thin, almost nonexistent lips curled up into a polite smile, giving Kern the distinct impression she knew what he was thinking about. Feeling almost embarrassed, he brushed the thoughts from his mind and took a step toward her.

  “I’m sorry,” he began awkwardly, scratching at the light stubble he had grown over the last couple of days. “It looks like we might have some trouble outside . . . and it would probably be best if you . . . if I . . . found you somewhere to, um . . . to hide.”

  “Of course,” Orna replied, politely. “Where would you have me conceal myself?”

  “That is a good question,” Kern answered her, glancing around. “I’m not really sure.” He continued talking as he began to explore the hold, inspecting the numerous compartments, most with locked, key code access panels, in hopes of finding something that would suit his purpose. “I assume Jarred, in his, uh, line of work, would have a few secret compartments on this rig, but if they’re like most of the systems on board, I’ll never be able to get into them. But, I doubt we’re going to fool anybody if we just hide you under the table.” He punched a few keys on a storage locker’s access pad and scowled when he received a negative squawk in return.

  “Will this suffice?”

  Kern glanced over his shoulder to find Orna standing beside a knee high, open storage bay. A bit surprised, he crossed the hold and glanced inside the small compartment, which was nearly empty but for a stack of, what looked like, dry ration kits and a few rolled up blankets. Reaching out to pull on the simple sliding door, while suppressing the urge to curse at himself, he put on his least impressed face and shrugged.

  “I guess it will have to.” Pausing long enough to further convey the lack of interest he hoped he was conveying, he let out a weary breath and continued. “But, it won’t take long to find you if we’re boarded.”

  Kern undid his vest and removed it, dropping to one knee in front of Orna. “There’s no need for them to come aboard if their scanners can’t read you. My vest is reinforced with a bratanium mesh. It should shield your body temperature from them.” He held the vest up to her, but stopped himself, waiting for the small being to give her permission first.

  Orna blinked her large eyes at him and nodded, what he took to be her approval, and he carefully draped the oversized vest over her thin shoulders. The garment covered all of her torso and most of her legs. Hidden in the storage closet, she should be fairly well cloaked. He hoped.

  After shifting a few things around in the compartment, he let Orna step inside. It wasn’t roomy for her, but if they were boarded, the small closet might go unnoticed. After all, he hadn’t seen it. Orna sat on the rolled blankets he had arranged for her and stared up at him, her features betraying no signs of fear or anxiety. He felt the need to comfort her anyway.

  “Everything will be fine,” he promised her, pouring as much confidence as he could into his voice. “We’ll get you out of here.”

  She smiled back at him kindly, and as he slid the door closed, Kern found himself wondering who it was he was trying to convince more. Orna or himself.

  Chapter 16

  Sierra peered out from around the corner of a docked freighter’s extended landing strut and watched as the Gnolith Sect officer and his local security escort approached the control room lift tube, suppressing the urge to strike.

  Attacking the group now would only get a lot of people killed, themselves most likely included, and if any shots were fired, the bay’s security systems would put the dock into a standard, automated lockdown, trapping them and everyone else inside. Neither outcome was very appealing. Her mission was to get Orna out safely and that was exactly what she intended to do. She couldn’t allow her personal feelings to get in the way of that.

  The only real option was to gain access to the control room and shut down the barrier shield, and to do so without raising any alarms in the process. Once they somehow, miraculously accomplished those feats, she would be in a much better position to exact a little vengeance, though she knew it would only dull the rage she was feeling inside. The real target of her anger was probably long gone by this time, slithering away like the coward he was while counting the slave currency he had traded for the lives of Kam and Meera and the countless others who had been caught in the cross fire.

  “This is going to complicate things,” Jarred commented, quietly from over Sierra’s shoulder, jarring her from her thoughts.

  Lost for a moment in her vengeful fantasy, she had nearly forgotten Jarred was there at all and, making a motion to turn, bumped backwards into him. She felt his hands lightly grip her shoulders, holding on just long enough to steady her and to make her cheeks flush, uncharacteristically. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable with their close proximity, and her embarrassing reaction to it, she attempted to move forward to put some space between them, but was stopped by the landing strut they were both using for cover.

  Jarred’s breath fluttered past her ear again as he said something she didn’t quite make out over the sudden pounding in her chest.

  This was ridiculous. What was happening to her? She was a trained operative. A soldier. She had more discipline than this. She didn’t get love sick and dreamy eyed over men. It must have been battle stress. Sierra had heard of it happening to plenty of soldiers during combat. It had never happened to her, but she supposed there was a first time for everything . . . and it definitely beat the alternative.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand, she returned her attention to the security group as they entered the command center’s lift tube, two of them remaining behind to take up guard positions on either side of the lift.

  “Something tells me they’re not going up there for a staff meeting,” Jarred mocked, though Sierra noted the cold edge in his voice.

  “The security feeds,” she admitted, scowling inwardly.

  “Once they spot your friend on those feeds, this whole place will go into lock down and we’ll be right back where we started.”

  Sierra set herself into full tactical mode, methodically considering their options, playing out numerous possible scenarios in her now clear mind. It didn’t take long for her to determine only one plan of action had a chance of succeeding and she had to fight the urge to cringe.

  “Then you’ll just have to make sure they don’t see them.” Turning around, she caught the look of surprise on Jarred’s face.

  “I’ll have to make sure?” he asked, incredulously.

  “Between the two of us you’ve got the best chance,” she admitted, honestly. “I saw what you did on that tram.” She raised a hand at Jarred to let her finish, as he seemed ready to object. “And I know I saw that laser blast burn a hole into you.”

  Jarred looked down at the scorched hole in his tunic and undershirt, the totally unblemished skin of his chest showing through the tattered material. When it was clear that he was no longer going to attempt to argue with her, Sierra continued.

  “I don’t pretend to understand how that is possible, but I don’t really have to to know that it gives you an advantage I don’t have.” She motioned up towards the control room. “And one they won’t have either.”

  Jarred raised his brow in what she took to be mock surprise, but conceded her point by nodding. She was grateful for
that. It was hard enough for her to admit he might be able to accomplish something she couldn’t without having him gloat over it.

  “Besides,” she continued. “Someone has to take care of those two.” She looked over her shoulder at the two security officers guarding the lift tube, Jarred doing the same. “Subtly.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Jarred began, looking genuinely surprised this time. “Are you implying that I can’t be subtle?”

  “No, not at all,” Sierra replied, with mock sincerity. “The way you chased down and blew up that hover tram with half the Sect fleet chasing you was very subtle.”

  “Hey,” he responded, being playfully defensive. “You just met me.”

  She grinned. “That’s what scares me.”

  “Alright,” Jarred began. “What’s your great, subtle plan for dealing with them?”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Sierra unzipped the front of her jacket, watching as Jarred’s eyes suddenly widened and followed her hand to where it stopped, low enough to get the result she was hoping for. By Jarred’s look of awkward discomfort, she guessed she had hit the mark, taking a moment to enjoy the fact that it was him blushing this time. “I have a few advantages of my own.”

  “I can see that,” he commented. “Interesting strategy.”

  “I’m glad you approve. Let’s both hope it works or this escape will be over before it starts.” Sierra turned away and stepped out from behind their cover, glancing back at Jarred as he began to make his way in the opposite direction, remaining under the cover of the freighter.

  “Jarred,” she called out, and he turned to look back at her, curiously. There were a great number of things she could have said. A few words of encouragement or caution. Though any of them would have been suitable under the circumstances for most, she saw them for what they really were. Spoken weakness. Wishful thinking. To wish someone heading into a dire situation luck was to admit your own fear and doubt over the outcome. So, instead she said the only other thing that came to mind.

  “Don’t screw up.”

  Jarred gave her a knowing look and turned back in the direction he was heading, as did she, marching straight out towards the control room lift tube, ensuring that the two guards posted on either side of it would be sure to take notice of her approach.

  Sierra was just half way to the lift when the first guard caught site of her, his eyes widening slightly as she neared. He said something to the guard across from him, who turned to look in her direction as well, quickly matching his counterpart’s surprised expression. Both men took a few steps away from the lift to meet her.

  Frowning, Sierra came to a stop in front of the guards and looked from one to the other, placing her hands sternly on her hips. “Which one of you can give me some answers?”

  The two men regarded one another and when neither gave a quick enough response, Sierra continued. “I’ve got a sensitive shipment to deliver on an even more sensitive timeline and if I don’t deliver on time, I don’t get paid. Unexpected dock closures are not good for business. What kind of cheap operation are you guys running here?”

  The guards both looked a bit stunned by her sudden outburst and unsure of how to respond, judging from their continued silence. Finally, one of the two stepped forward and raised his hands defensively.

  “Take it easy now, uh, ma’am,” the guard began awkwardly, his eyes darting back and forth from her face to her strategically plunging neckline.

  Sierra suppressed the urge to grin. Men were almost too easy to manipulate. “Don’t ma’am me! I paid my dock fees, which pays your salary. That means you work for me. Now, I want some answers.”

  From the barely restrained look of amusement on the guard’s face, Sierra could tell he was at least partially enjoying the scolding she was giving him. Something about angry, aggressive women seemed to excite men of nearly any species. Her altered attire no doubt enhanced the effect.

  “Well, we’re really not supposed to say anything,” the guard began, in a hushed tone, motioning his counterpart forward to join them. “The last thing we need is to start a city wide panic, so you’ll have to keep this to yourself, but word over the comm channels is that there’s been a terrorist attack.”

  Sierra’s look of surprise was genuine. “A terrorist attack?” Of course they would be spinning it that way. The Sect viewed descent of any kind as acts of treason against them and, out of fear of reprisal, planetary security forces had no choice but to fall in line with that view.

  “Less than an hour ago,” the guard continued. “In the entertainment district. Under Sect orders, the city has been put on full lockdown. Sect patrol ships are all over the sky. No one is getting in or out.”

  “That is until we catch the scum,” the second guard added.

  “Which shouldn’t take long,” the first agreed with a nod. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but the lockdown is for your protection.”

  Sierra caught site of Jarred as he silently slipped around from behind the control room lift tube and forced herself to look suddenly embarrassed.

  “No, I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “Here you two are, just doing your jobs, putting yourselves at risk for all of our safety and I come along and start giving you a hard time. What you must think of me.”

  “There’s no harm done, miss,” the second guard assured her. Over his shoulder, Sierra watched Jarred step into the lift tube and as the door slid shut behind him, she grinned to herself.

  “We all have our jobs to do,” the guard continued.

  “Yes, we do,” she agreed wholeheartedly, and neither the corrupt will of the Sect nor the full might of its military would stop her from finishing hers.

  * * *

  “’Evening, officers.” Kern greeted the pair of security agents waiting at the bottom of the boarding ramp with a broad smile as he marched down to meet them. “Lovely night for a random security raid, isn’t it?”

  Neither of the officers seemed to pay Kern’s witty banter any mind, one of the two inputting commands into the portable scanner he was carrying.

  “What is your business in Trycon, sir?” the officer without the device asked.

  “Recreational,” Kern answered, improvising. They had actually been sent with forged documentation identifying them as freight couriers with licenses and a legitimate cargo, but seeing as the freighter they flew in on was now in Sect hands, that plan was fragged. “Trying my luck in the local gambling district.”

  The questioning officer regarded him a moment. “It looks like your luck has been pretty favorable. This is a nice ship your flying.”

  “It gets me around.”

  The officer briefly examined something on his portable palm console and returned his attention to Kern with a curious expression. “The, um, Fancy Girl.”

  Kern’s embarrassment must have shown on his face, as both security officers began to smirk.

  “Interesting designation,” the officer continued, restraining a slight chuckle. “Are you traveling alone?”

  “Yes, I am,” Kern answered, quickly.

  “Alright,” the officer concluded, appearing amused and satisfied enough with the brief inspection.

  Kern was ready to breath a sigh of relief when the scanning officer raised a hand to stop his counterpart. “Wait, I’m picking up a thermal signature onboard.”

  The first officer returned his gaze to Kern, the look of amusement that had previously been on his face replaced with a far more serious one. “I thought you said you were alone.”

  A cold shiver ran up Kern’s spine and he felt as though the ceiling was about to cave in on him. “I am.” There wasn’t much else he could say. The gig was up and he was on his own, Sierra and Jarred nowhere in sight. The best he could do was to stall and hope for a miracle.

  The officer looked at his scanning counterpart and then back to Kern. “We’re going to have to board and search your vessel.”

  As both officers tried to start up the ramp, Kern stepped into their path. �
�Will that really be necessary?” From the leading officer’s reaction, he knew doing so had been a mistake and raised his hands defensively as he felt the man’s rifle muzzle press into his sternum. “Apparently, it is.”

  “Stand aside, civilian,” the officer commanded, the previously pleasant tone gone from his voice.

  “Sure.” Kern pointed the way up the ramp with one hand while resting the other on the concealed sidearm on his hip. There was a chance he could take them both once they were onboard, though it was less likely that he would be able to do so quietly, but at this point, it didn’t look like he really had much of a choice. “Be my . . . guest.”

  The steady waves of anxiety rising in Kern’s chest gave way to surprise as he looked up the ramp to see Elora standing in the open hatch. A quick look at the two security officers told him they were as surprised as he was.

  “Who is this?” the lead officer asked Kern, accusingly.

  “This?” Kern echoed, struggling to fabricate a plausible identity for a woman who wasn’t supposed to be there. “This is my . . .”

  “His wife,” Elora answered the officer, walking down the ramp to stand beside Kern. “I’m his wife.”

  Kern blinked his surprise and then caught the expectant look from the questioning officer. “My . . . wife . . . of course. Yes. This is my wife.”

  “Why did you say you were here alone before?” the officer asked, skeptically.

  “Well,” Kern began, searching again for a response that wouldn’t end up getting them arrested or worse, vaporized. “I meant that the two of us were here alone. You know how it is when you’re married. There’s no more me, everything is we . . . or in this case . . . the opposite of that.”

  The officer looked skeptical, but turned back to face Elora. “I assume you both would have heard the announcement for everyone to disembark their vessels. Why am I just seeing you now? What were you doing in there?”