by Gary Jonas
Sai tried to wrench herself from the grasp of the other man, but he jabbed her in the gut with the butt of his baton. She fell to her knees.
“Don’t even think about it,” one of them said to Hank as he struggled to get to his feet. Hank ignored him, pushing himself up. The man shook his head and kicked Hank in the ribs. Hank fell back to the ground, unable to catch his breath. This time he couldn’t muster the strength to try again. They dragged Sai from the room, and there wasn’t a thing he could do but watch them though his tears.
The man hit Hank one last time across the face, then backed out the door. “Pathetic,” he said.
“Where are you taking her?” Hank said.
“None of your business,” the man said.
“Lighting farts in the airlock? Is this the same guy who didn’t know the difference between concussion and incendiary charges?” Chandler asked.
“They might be brothers … or father and son.”
Both men roared in laughter. Even with the tiny sips they’d been drinking, they’d managed to drain the bottle of tequila. And a bit of whiskey as well.
After they both wound down, Chandler looked at Brock. This was a man he knew from war. This was a man he knew from countless days escaping from battle in Confed base bars and back-alley starport dives. He’d had this man cover him as he rushed into hell. He had to risk it. It could go two ways. Either allies to the end, or enemies who would do their damnedest to kill each other.
“So, Brock …”
Brock turned to Chandler and stared him in the eye. “Mike, let’s cut the shit. I know you’re not the kind of man who runs around kidnapping folks for blood money.”
Chandler nodded. “And I know that you’re not the type of guy who would work for pirates.”
Brock smiled. “So what the hell are we doing here?”
In a simultaneous motion, both men brought out the pistols they’d been aiming at each other from beneath the table, clicked them on safety, then placed them beside their drinks.
“You first,” Chandler said.
Brock sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Confed Secret Service. Deep cover for about a year. The Confed can only protect trade ships in the space directly around major ports of call. That used to be fine, because pirates typically had no way to locate merchant ships except by cruising around randomly in those areas fishing for prey. Thorne changed everything. He’s been able to get direct access to shipping routes and timetables. We can’t escort every ship. Our only hope of stopping him was to do it from the inside. What about you?”
Chandler took a swig. “Been doing private operative work. My current client is Lord Randol of Nebulaco. His daughter, Helen, was kidnapped. We were in the process of a jailbreak. We have the goods on the operation and how Thorne had been feeding off Nebulaco. We can shut the whole thing down. If we can make it out of here alive.”
“You’ll need help to do that.”
Chandler nodded. “You in?”
“Damn straight. I’m sick of this rock. All I needed was a way to get the coordinates and get out so I could report them to the Confed.”
“Well, we got ’em, and opportunity’s knocking on your door right now. Ready to go?”
Brock raised his glass. “All right then.” He slammed the last of his drink and stood up. The room spun and he blinked several times. “Give me a minute to let the floor stop moving.”
Chandler laughed and pushed himself to his feet. “Still a lightweight, aren’t you?”
He went to take a step, then reached for the table to steady himself.
Brock shook his finger at Chandler. “Who’s the lightweight now?”
“We can do this.”
“Be like our days in the Academy.”
Chandler grinned. “Those were the days. Where’s the head? I gotta piss like a Dynerian wildebeest.”
“Most guys just piss on the wall.”
“Yeah, I noticed. That’s just disgusting.”
“True. Piss in the bottle. We can seal it up and leave it in the galley. They’d probably drink it even if you labeled it Tequila Piss.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Chandler and Brock marched as straight as they could, considering their condition. Their footfalls echoed through the corridor leading to the cell block. They looked at one another and grinned. Chandler felt pretty invincible, but then, he’d swallowed the worm.
When they reached the cell block, Brock strode right up to the guard’s station and slammed a hand down on the desktop. “We’re here to pick up some prisoners,” he said loudly.
“Oh look, it’s Brock,” the guard said. “I thought they had you on galley detail.”
Brock squinted his eyes and looked at the man. “Don’t I know you?”
“Yep,” the guard said. “I’m Ray. Ray Larson. Remember? Used to work for Nebulaco. I was the leader of Red Team on Raken. Got fired for that cluster, so I signed on with these guys. The pay is good. They gave me the job of guarding the important prisoners.”
“Well that explains why they ordered us to move them,” Brock said, jabbing Chandler in the ribs with his elbow.
Chandler smiled. “So this is the Larson guy?”
“Yep. He healed up pretty good, didn’t he?”
“So what’s the story?” Larson asked.
“Like I told you,” Brock said. “We’re here to transfer Hank Jensen, Sai Collins, and Helen Randol. Glenn wants us to take them to his special secret prison.” He gave Larson a wink.
“I didn’t hear anything about this.”
“No kidding,” Brock said. “That’s why it’s a secret.”
Larson checked his log. “Well, it says here the Collins girl has already been transferred.”
“Really?” Chandler and Brock shared a concerned look. “Where to?”
“Port Royal, Coulson City.”
“When did they transport her?” Brock said.
Ray checked the log again. “Just before I came on duty, about twenty minutes ago.”
“You see, Chandler? It never fails around here. They screw everything up. They were supposed to transport them all together.”
Chandler nodded. “Yes, it sure looks that way.”
“Hey, guys,” Larson said. “I wasn’t even here.”
“Oh no,” Brock said. “It’s not your fault. I understand. Hell, you’re too smart to screw up like that. Come on and help me load up these jerks.”
Larson shook his head. “Sorry, guys. I can’t.”
“What?”
“I have to have clearance from upstairs.”
Brock threw up his hands. “If that don’t beat all. Here I was thinking you were different from these other bozos, and you come up with something like that.”
“Sorry. I have to get authorization.”
Chandler reached forward and tapped the man on the head with his fist. “Hello! Think about what you’re saying.”
“What do you mean?”
“Okay. How do you get an authorization?” Chandler said.
Larson shrugged. “They call me on the com?”
Brock and Chandler nodded. “And what’s wrong with that?”
Larson’s gaze shifted from one expectant face to the other. “I don’t know.”
Chandler slapped himself on the forehead. “Think! Anybody can call you on the com. What does it take to fake a voice? Besides, what if someone tapped the system? How would you keep anything secret? That’s why they send us in person for the high-level security transfers. You know who we are, so you aren’t going to be fooled.”
Larson shook his head. “I don’t know, guys. I really think I should call upstairs.” He reached for the com control.
“No!” Brock yelled.
Larson looked at him suspiciously.
“Don’t you see? If you start broadcasting all over the base, then it won’t be a secret anymore. I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble, Ray. For example, how did they handle the transfer of the Collins girl?”
“They called down here on the com.”
“See? And that was a mistake. Had they done the proper procedure we would have been able to transport all of them at once. Does it make any sense to use two ships?”
“Well, no.”
“Exactly. Now, remember what happened on Raken at that oracle’s place?”
“Hey, that should have worked!”
“I know, but did it? Who was there trying to save your butt?” Brock cocked a thumb at himself, trying not to weave too much. “Yep, who’s your buddy?”
“You?”
“That’s right! Now, I guarantee that if you touch that com and breathe a word about us transferring these prisoners, all hell will break loose.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. I speak with complete certainty.”
Larson sighed. “Okay. Let me find the keys.”
With Larson’s help, Chandler and Brock opened the cell doors. They brought Helen out first. She blinked in the bright light of the hallway. She was filthy—dirty clothes and black fingernails, her blonde hair matted and tangled. As she stepped out, they put her in manacles. She looked frightened and didn’t speak or meet their eyes. She’d gone from corporate princess to slave. Brock tried to nod at her, but she wouldn’t look at him.
Hank came next. He’d been beaten. A big welt was swelling up on his jaw. Dried blood crusted around his nostrils. His lips were swollen and split. He looked at Chandler with an expression of pure hate as they placed manacles on him. Chandler winked at him out of Larson’s sight, but he thought the motion infuriated more than comforted Hank. He was glad that Hank would be in cuffs for a while, at least until they liberated a ship, and perhaps longer than that based on the looks he was giving.
Chandler and Brock led the pair of prisoners out of the cell block. “Thanks, Ray,” Brock said. “Remember, not a word of this over the com. You know those idiots can’t keep quiet about anything. You just keep standing guard as if the prisoners are still in there. That’s the only way we can keep a lid on this and prevent those morons from spreading the news everywhere.”
“You got it, Brock!” Larson smiled, giving him a thumbs-up.
Chandler and Brock looked at each other and grinned.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Chandler moved close to Hank and whispered. “This is a jailbreak.”
Hank looked back at him, confused. “Is this another one of your games?”
“Just keep quiet, and leave everything to us,” Chandler said, leaning forward, almost knocking Hank over.
“Good god! You smell flammable,” Hank said. “What have you been drinking?”
“Tequila, but it’s all gone so don’t ask,” Chandler said.
Hank shook his head. “I really thought you had sold us out. I’m sorry.”
Chandler shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I would have felt the same in your boots.”
“Now the only person on my shit list is a thawed-out, lying pirate,” Hank said.
Helen looked at Chandler. “We’ve met, haven’t we?”
“Yep. Champion beer chugger at your service.”
She looked at Brock. “And my waiter is here as well.”
“The tips sucked, so I moved up in the world. How you feeling?”
“I’ve been better. You’re really here to save me?”
“That’s right. Your father sent us,” Chandler said.
“Really? I’m surprised my father even cares.”
“Believe it or not, you’re the only thing your father does care about. Now keep quiet, do what we say, and we’ll get you home to him.”
“Does anyone know what happened to Sai?” Hank asked.
Chandler’s features clouded. “She’s on her way to Port Royal. I figure whoever’s behind this whole thing is after what’s in her head about the bank accounts.”
Hank tried to smile. “At least we know they aren’t going to kill her. She’s the most valuable woman in the universe to them now.”
They followed the hallway to the hangar.
“The way I figure it, we’re practically home free,” Chandler said. “All we have to do is steal a ship in the middle of a crowded hangar, outrun a couple hundred pirate Marauders, rescue a girl from some bad guys, and save the galaxy before breakfast.”
“Been there, done that,” Hank said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The hangar was not crowded. In fact, it was practically deserted. “I think this is going to be easier than we thought,” Brock said.
“Shut up. Every time someone says something like that, it jinxes me,” Chandler said.
As they entered the hangar, they retreated to an alcove to remove the manacles from Hank and Helen. Chandler handed Hank his comlink, his pistol, and Sai’s whisperblade.
Hank glanced at the whisperblade, then slipped it in his pocket because he had no idea how to use the damn thing. He readied his pistol.
Helen was still scared, but for a different reason. She thought she was no longer in the hands of enemies, but lunatics.
“Stay with us, Helen. We’ll get you home,” Chandler said.
“Thanks,” Helen said.
Hank sneaked a peek out into the hangar and did a head count. “I see only four guys out there, and most of the ships are gone.”
“Great,” said Brock.
“Not great. That means it will be easier to get a ship, but harder to get away. Those ships are patrolling out there. We blast out and they intercept us. We’d better be ready for a firefight.”
They kept to the shadows, moving along the hangar wall to the nearest ship. It was Marauder class, and although it wasn’t pretty, it looked functional. It was large enough for three, but it could hold four people if they were friendly. Most importantly, it was fast and already lined up in a launch chute, ready to fly.
It was a simple matter to enter the ship unobserved—the vessels were not guarded. Brock and Helen strapped in while Hank and Chandler got in the cockpit seats and checked out the controls.
Hank had never flown a Marauder, but the layout was typical. He flipped a few switches and checked the status board. Everything looked okay.
“I don’t like this ship,” Hank said.
“Why?” Chandler asked.
“No cup holder.” He glanced back at them. “Are you all ready?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Brock said.
Helen clutched the arms of her chair with all her might. “I guess,” she said.
“Okay, let’s go!” Hank reached for the row of engine control buttons. He intended to do a shit-hot takeoff that would hopefully damage the hangar and possibly rupture the air seal on the base. It would be gravy.
He hit the launch control and nothing happened.
“You know,” Brock said. “I just thought of something. They probably took all the ships that worked when they left on patrol.”
“Remind me to strangle you later,” Chandler said.
Suddenly the ship stuttered to life. The engines caught, or tried to.
“Everybody stay strapped in. I think we may be in for an interesting ride.”
The engines finally powered up, and the force of the takeoff pressed them into their seats as the ship left the base for clear space. They gained speed, and the base started disappearing in the distance behind them. It looked good.
For a few seconds.
Almost immediately, Hank and Chandler saw the pirate fleet. They were evidently on their way back from patrol. A formation of at least one hundred Marauders approached, led by Glenn’s flagship.
“Okay, now what?” asked Hank.
“You’re the hotshot pilot,” Chandler said. “I did my job back there.”
“Thanks.”
He took a hard turn to starboard and hit the afterburners, hoping to get a head start. He was sure the alarm had been sounded as soon as their ship left for its unauthorized cruise. Immediately, the fleet turned toward him and moved to intercept.
Hank was familiar wi
th the territory, but unfortunately, so were the pirates, and his memories were almost ten years old. A lot changes in such a chaotic region. He wished he had Elsa instead of this junker.
Then he remembered his comlink. “Elsa, this is Hank. Are you out there?”
“Hank! What happened? Where are you?”
“I’d love to chat, but there are about a hundred pirates who want a piece of me,” Hank said. “They may be monitoring our transmissions, so I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point if I can shake these jerks.”
“Got it.”
Hank smiled and looked at Chandler. “Contingency plan.”
Already the ships were beginning to close in. Even though they weren’t yet in range, some of the ships were firing. Glenn’s flagship, faster than the others, was gaining.
He had to buy some time. Hank cut around a small asteroid and dove between two intersecting hunks of debris that might once have been the hulls of spacecraft.
He hit the com. “Hey there, pirate scumbags, this is Hank Jensen. I have something that is very important to you on board. You don’t want to screw up and hurt Randol’s kid. Tell your men to back off.”
Glenn’s voice answered. “You can’t get away, Jensen. We will follow you wherever you go. There is no escape, so why not let us have the girl? I promise that you and your friends will be released.”
Hank grinned. “Somehow I doubt your sincerity.”
“You might as well trust me, as the alternative isn’t pretty. If you force me to chase you, I promise to make you the nightly entertainment for a month.”
“Sorry, I don’t do stand-up.”
“You won’t have to do anything but scream.”
“Cheerful guy,” said Chandler. “I wouldn’t piss him off if I were you.”
“Now you tell me?” Hank said.
“His name is Glenn,” Brock said. “Maybe I can talk to him.”
“What the hell is the leader doing out on a patrol?” Chandler asked.
“He’s surrounded by idiots, so he’s keeping a hands-on approach until he can find a few decent men. He’s actually reasonable as pirates go.”
