“Given our options, this seems to be our best chance of survival,” Cormac said.
Victor nodded, though he knew no one would see it through his polarized visor. “Okay. Then that’s what we’ll do. But first we should strip the rover of anything useful.”
Searching the rover, they found a couple spare assault rifles on a gun rack in the back. Victor test fired the rifle by firing a burst into the side of the crater to see if it would work. It did. He gave Cormac his carbine and hung the assault rifle over his shoulder.
Gaz took the other assault rifle, letting his grenade launcher hang from its sling.
Ammo was also stored on the rover. Victor shared the ammo evenly with Gaz.
Finally all four of them topped off their suits from the rover’s supply of air, water, and power. Victor helped Cormac with carrying Fara while Gaz walked ahead toward the dome of Lucille’s Bay.
Chapter 10
After about four hours of cautious low-gravity hopping, the foursome arrived at the edge of Lucille’s Bay’s dome.
Despite the low gravity and Cormac’s help, Victor’s chest burned from the exertion of carrying Fara—made all the harder by the fact their route had taken them in and out of several craters in an effort to keep them out of the line of sight of any guards or patrols or radar.
Once they stopped, Victor set Fara down on a rock. Looking over her head, he saw the trail of footprints they had left in the regolith. It wouldn’t be very hard for any patrol to follow those. Victor and the crew needed to get inside quickly.
Up ahead, Gaz waved to get their attention. So close to the base, they couldn’t risk using their suit radios.
Victor pointed at Fara, gave a thumbs-up, a thumbs-down, and then a thumbs-up again, hoping she would understand the question he mimed.
She did, giving her own thumbs-up.
Victor bounced over to Gaz, who pointed at what looked like the outer door of an airlock.
Victor turned to summon Cormac, only to see the starchild already coming. Bouncing to the door, he probed at it with his long, delicate fingers.
After a few minutes, Cormac turned to Victor and beckoned him over with a flourish of his long index finger.
Victor bounced beside him, and Cormac pointed to the cutlass on his back.
Okay, what do you need a sword for? Victor thought as he drew the blade.
Cormac held out his hand. He wanted Victor to give the weapon to him.
Victor placed the handle of the cutlass in Cormac’s hand, cautious to keep the sharp blade well away from the starchild’s unarmored suit.
Cormac took the blade and held the tip to his visor, as if to study it, his face concealed by the polarized glass.
Then he flipped the blade over into a reverse grip and stabbed it down into the lip of a panel with such force that his feet came off the ground.
The starchild pulled back with surprising strength, ripping off the panel and letting it fall to the ground.
Cormac then drove the tip of the sword into the regolith to keep it nearby and fiddled with the tangle of wires inside the panel. He pulled out a small wire cutter and snipped a few of the wires. Cool light spilled from their severed ends.
Replacing the wire cutters, Cormac pulled out a handheld computer and inserted the ends of the cut wires into ports.
He then tapped on the computer’s screen, which glowed too brightly under light amplification for Victor to see what the starchild was doing.
Cormac focused on the screen for several seconds, tapping it from time to time. Then the outer hatch opened, spilling out light so bright that Victor had to turn off his light amplifier.
The interior of the airlock was empty.
Cormac pulled Victor’s sword from the ground and handed it to Victor hilt first. He grabbed the sword and carefully sheathed it. With the airlock just in front of him, it wouldn’t do for him to cut open his own suit.
He turned around to help Fara, only to see her bouncing on one leg toward the airlock.
Victor let out an involuntary laugh at the sight of her, feeling his tension lower just a bit. He was glad the vacuum made his laughter inaudible.
He guided Fara into the airlock and then followed. Gaz was the last to enter, his assault rifle shouldered and ready.
Cormac hit a button inside the airlock, and the outer door closed. Victor unslung his assault rifle and aimed it toward the inner door as the airlock repressurized, fully expecting to see an army of pirates waiting for him on the other side.
After the hiss of repressurization, the inner door opened. No one was on the other side. Gaz went in first, turning to the right. Victor followed behind him and turned left from the inner door. The corridor was deserted.
Victor popped the seal of his suit and lifted up the visor. “Looks like we’re clear.”
“Yeah. A bit surprised by that,” Gaz said. “Wat’chu do, Cormac?”
Cormac pressed a button on his suit, and his bubble helmet retracted. His short blond hair was matted by sweat. “This airlock is a standard off-the-shelf model. It was easy enough for me to disconnect it from the network so the pirates wouldn’t detect it opening.”
“That’s some good work, Cormac,” Fara said after pulling off her helmet.
The starchild shrugged. “I don’t think they were expecting intruders to infiltrate the base on foot.”
Victor nodded. Why should they? Nothing was outside but rock and vacuum.
“So where do we go from here?” asked Gaz, looking at Victor.
“Wherever they keep their ships,” Victor said.
“Yeah, but where would that be? It’s not like we’ve got a map of this base or anything.”
Victor focused on Cormac. “Can you hack into their surveillance system?”
Cormac glanced around. “Not without a terminal. And doing so would risk detection.”
“I won’t take them long to follow our tracks to their base,” Victor said.
“True. We should probably get moving,” Cormac said as he nodded. “Preferably to a safe place where I can treat her leg.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Fara said. Her face was flush from pain, despite the painkillers.
“Fine.” Victor pointed down the right corridor. “We go that way.”
“Any reason?” asked Gaz.
“None, but, like Cormac said, we need to get moving,” Victor said. “I’ll lead the way.” He walked past Gaz, down the corridor, with his rifle held before him.
Every time he rounded a corner, he expected to find pirates waiting to gun him down. Every time no one was there.
When Victor found a door in one of the side corridors, he tried the latch and found it unlocked. He signaled Gaz over and then opened the door. Victor walked inside and found a maintenance closet.
Victor leaned his head into the corridor, speaking to his companions, “It’s empty. Get inside.”
Cormac helped Fara into the closet, laying her out flat on the floor in the low gravity. “I’ll need to remove your suit to treat your leg, Fara.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said, hitting the release on her suit, removing the gloves on her own.
Cormac looked to Victor. “I’ll need assistance.”
Victor nodded. “Gaz, watch the door.” He set down his assault rifle to help get Fara out of her suit.
“You giving orders now?” Gaz asked.
“Is there something else you want to do?”
Gaz shrugged. “Guess not.” He leaned his back to the wall and readied his weapon.
Fara pulled the suit’s collar over her head and then worked both arms out. Victor took hold under Fara’s arms while Cormac grabbed her suit’s legs.
“Pull her out gently, Victor,” Cormac said.
“Yeah, please,” Fara said, her voice strained, her skin covered in sweat.
“I will,” Victor said. “Ready?”
Cormac nodded. “Do it.”
Victor pulled Fara out the back of her suit while Cormac a
nchored the legs.
She slid out easily, grunting in pain along the way but not screaming. A sports bra and incontinence diaper were her only clothing.
She was a lovely woman, but what held Victor’s attention the most was the ugly swelling coming from the middle of her left tibia.
“Ah, good. It is not a compound fracture,” Cormac said, opening his medical kit.
“Can you set it?” asked Victor.
“Yes, I believe so.” He replaced Fara’s pain patch with a fresh one. “I am afraid this will hurt, even with medication.”
Fara nodded. “Just do it.”
“Victor, hold her just below the knee and keep it steady,” Cormac said.
Victor did as he was told, cupping his gloved hand under her left knee.
“Raise it just a bit. Yes, that will do. Now hold tight,” Cormac said. The starchild set the bone with an audible pop.
“Oh, fuck me!” Fara said through gritted teeth.
Cormac wrapped a wide ribbon of black material around her leg. “This will immobilize your leg. You can wear your suit with it on.”
“That’s good. I’d rather not walk about this base in a diaper,” Fara said.
After he finished wrapping the cast, Cormac held a small device to it and pressed a button. The black material suddenly went rigid, forming a hard cast covering Fara’s leg to just below the knee.
Cormac helped Fara back into her suit. “Don’t try to put any weight on your leg, even with the cast and suit on. I’ll fashion a knee brace to put over your suit.”
“Right, got it,” Fara said.
They got her sealed back inside her suit, and Cormac secured a brace to her left knee, keeping it bent at a forty-five-degree angle.
“So, now that my leg’s been dealt with, is it time for us to steal a ship?” asked Fara.
Victor nodded. “Yeah, we just need to figure out where they keep them.”
“Then let’s go find us a ride,” Gaz said. He opened the door and led the way out.
With Gaz on point, Victor took up the rear while Cormac supported Fara as she hobbled along on one leg.
They followed the corridor into an open area. For a moment, Victor thought it was a hangar, before the stacked crates told him it was something else—a warehouse.
“You see this shit?” asked Gaz.
“Yes, it appears to be a storage area where the pirates keep their stolen cargo,” Cormac said.
Fara looked around. “Wow. Have you guys read the labels? Wine, silk, real wood, fresh fruit.”
“Luxuries,” Victor said.
“Yes,” Cormac said. “Luxury goods tend to have a lot of value for their bulk. I suspect much of Lucille’s Bay’s revenue comes from the sale of stolen goods such as these.”
“I don’t suppose there’s anything in here we can use?” asked Victor.
“I could use some of those,” Fara said, nodding toward a crate bearing the label Silk Sheets.
Cormac shook his head. “Not in this room. There are likely other storage areas, however. One or more of them may contain items of immediate value to us.”
“Keep an eye out then. A vault full of weapons could come in handy about now,” Victor said.
“Now you’re talkin’,” Gaz said.
They made their way slowly between the stacks of crates filled with stolen goods to long shelves holding loose items—clocks, furniture, artwork—all neatly organized and coated with a preservative plastic.
Rows of parked luxury vehicles were next: ground cars, skycars, sky hoppers. Victor stopped as he came upon a fifteen-meter-long, fully rigged trimaran, a racing vessel by the look of her.
The boat had a sleek black composite hull, with white stripes at the water line. Victor ran a hand over the hull, thinking how Gina would’ve loved it. Then it hit him.
Oh, right, she’s dead, he thought as a sick feeling clawed its way into his guts. He leaned against the hull to steady himself as grief threatened to topple him. He hadn’t felt this kind of grief since he woke up in the Stone. He had thought perhaps the old man had done something to keep the grief away permanently.
Evidently that wasn’t the case.
“Hey, Victor, what’s the holdup?” Gaz asked.
Pulled back into the here and now, Victor shook his head, squeezing his eyes against the tears threatening to pour out.
“N-nothing, just…it was nothing.” Victor caught up with the rest of the crew, who had walked several meters ahead of him while he was distracted.
“That was a hell of a lot of nothing,” Fara said, but Victor offered no comment.
They found another empty corridor on the other side of the warehouse. Gaz and Victor checked the corridors before Gaz took point and led them to the right.
“Still no guards,” Cormac said.
“Yeah, the security inside this base is not what I would’ve expected. They really weren’t prepared for intruders,” Victor said.
They continued down the corridor for several meters until they came to a T-junction. That’s when they heard voices coming down the left corridor—the muffled cries of a woman mixed with the deeper, guttural laughs of at least two men. The noises were getting closer.
The four crewmembers all pressed against the left wall, Victor coming up behind Gaz.
The voices grew louder and clearer.
“Mmmph!” The woman’s cries were muffled by something.
“Be quiet, whore,” said a male with the deeper voice.
“Yeah, we haven’t even given you anything to scream about yet!” said another man with a high-pitched, wheezy voice.
Two men in jumpsuits appeared around the corner, leading between them a red-haired woman in a utilitarian overall. She was gagged, and her arms were bound behind her back.
She struggled against her captors and cursed through her gag. But that only seemed to amuse the pirates.
“Now, now, whore. This is what happens when you piss off Lucille.”
Neither pirate noticed the four intruders as they walked past; they were too focused on their struggling prisoner.
Victor gritted his teeth and stepped forward. Gaz put a hand on his shoulder, but Victor shrugged it off.
He transferred his assault rifle to his left hand and grabbed the handle of his cutlass.
The struggling woman so held the attention of her captors that the pirates didn’t notice Victor approaching until he was almost on top of them.
The closest pirate, the big one with a deep voice, turned around as Victor drew his weapon.
The pirate had just enough time to look surprised before Victor cut off the top of his head with a diagonal slash. The pirate’s expression slackened.
The other pirate—a scrawny, weasel-looking man with a large nose and pronounced Adam’s apple—squealed like a frightened rat as he let go of the prisoner and reached for his weapon. He didn’t even have time to wrap his hand around his pistol’s grip before Victor stabbed him just below the ribs, driving the blade upward into his heart.
The pirate’s eyes went wide with shock before he choked and died, falling down in the low gravity.
Victor, breathing heavily, pulled out the bloodied blade, surprised he had killed two men so quickly.
The bound woman had lost her balance and backed away from Victor, whimpering through her gag.
Her fear surprised him at first, but, armored as he was, Victor must have been a frightening sight.
He sheathed the cutlass and released his assault rifle, letting it hang from its strap, and then held up both hands. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”
“Hmph?” the gagged woman tried to say, her fear replaced by confusion.
Gaz came up behind him. “You gonna get us killed with that kind of fuckin’ heroics!”
“Just help me hide the bodies,” Victor said, while helping up the bound woman.
He pointed her in the direction of Fara and Cormac. The gagged woman nodded and walked over to them while he and Gaz grabbed the bodies
of both pirates and dragged them from the corridor, an easy task in the low gravity.
By the time Victor dragged the bodies into the storage room, Cormac and Fara had removed the woman’s gag, but her arms were still bound.
“We’ll need the keys to these cuffs,” Fara said.
“The big guy missing the top of his head had the keys,” the woman said. “On a ring hanging from his right hip.”
Gaz grabbed the keys and tossed them to Fara, who stood on one leg while she undid the woman’s cuffs.
Free of her bonds, the red-haired woman rubbed her wrists in front of her. “Thanks for the assist. But who the hell are you?”
“Mercenaries,” Victor said.
“Mercs? How many?” she asked.
Victor shrugged. “Just the four of us. We’re all that’s left.”
She nodded. “You must be the ones from the fake pirate ship they shot down.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “Where did you hear about this?”
She cocked her head toward the two dead pirates. “They were talking about it. Apparently they spotted a second ship jumping in and figured out the ruse you were pulling.”
“Guess I’m not the only one who knows what a Trojan horse is,” Victor said.
“A what?” asked the woman.
Victor shook his head. “Never mind.”
Without asking, the woman removed the gun belt from the big pirate’s corpse.
“Name’s Lena, by the way,” she said while she undid the buckles. “Captain Lena Dryer of the Daisy Mae. Or I was. These pirates took me and my crew captive two weeks ago.”
“Are there other captives?” asked Victor.
“Yeah, about three hundred,” Lena said. She pulled the gun belt free of the dead pirate and wrapped it around her waist.
“Three hundred? What do they plan on doing with so many prisoners?” asked Victor.
Lena grimaced at him as she fastened the buckle. “What do you think? Sell us to slavers.” She pointed at herself. “I think it’s pretty clear what would happen to me.”
“Yeah, I could guess that. Do any of the prisoners know how to fight?” asked Victor.
Lena raised an eyebrow. “Fight? Most of them are merchant crewmen, so they all know how to operate a gun.”
Victor nodded. He scratched his beard in thought.
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