by Piers Platt
“Yeah,” Falken said.
“Good, good. I know she and Quiss were worried about you guys. Especially with that ancient female terrorizing the place of late.”
“Who?” Vina asked.
“The female that destroyed your truck. We’ve never observed a dragon that size before, never.”
“One of the ones that attacked us?” Vina asked, confused.
Falken shook his head. “Ah … no.”
Luthena clucked her tongue at Brondi. “He didn’t tell them. He didn’t want to get them all worked up.”
Brondi frowned. “Ah. Well, yes, that does make sense.”
Falken cleared his throat. “I didn’t crash the truck or anything. It was a dragon – a huge one. I just didn’t want you guys to worry more than you already were.”
“How big?” Shep asked.
“Big,” Falken said. “Big enough to pick the truck up and lift it over her head.” He adjusted the bandage that Vina had helped him apply to the cut on his shoulder. “She’s the one that ate most of the proxies. She was waiting for me when I went to get the truck, and I barely got away.”
“You’re all very lucky she didn’t show up on your journey here,” Luthena said. “But … that’s in the past now.” She tapped her e-glasses, frowning for a second. “The Liberty Belle should be here in … about five minutes. Have you all eaten? Does anyone need anything?”
“We’re good,” Falken told her. “Sit – relax. You guys need a break, too.”
“True enough,” Brondi agreed.
The scientists joined Falken, Vina, and the brothers at the conference table. Luthena opened a water bottle and sipped it, then passed it to Brondi.
“So you guys study the dragons here?” Kuda asked.
“Yes, we do,” Luthena said. “This facility started as a kind of an ecological observatory, way back when. There was a big team here, all focused on studying the dragons in their natural habitat. There are tunnels running everywhere, actually – there’s even a funicular that runs right up to the top of the mountain. It comes out into the aerie itself, amongst the dragons’ nests. If we had time, I’d take you up and show you – it’s quite impressive.”
“What’s a funicular?” Vina asked.
“A kind of train, that’s designed to run on a very steep track,” Brondi said. “It’s a bit like an elevator lying on its side.”
“Anyway, nowadays it’s just the two of us,” Luthena continued. “And our focus is much narrower. We’re studying the dragon’s biology, at a cellular level. Less time watching them in action, a lot more time bent over a microscope, I’m afraid.”
“You’re trying to figure out why they’re immortal?” Shep asked.
“Well, ‘immortal’ is not quite the right term, but that’s roughly correct,” Brondi said. “We’re hoping to be able to isolate what it is in their genetic makeup that allows them to avoid aging. We’re looking for commonalities with other animals that show negligible senescence, like lobsters, or a species of earthworms that was discovered a few decades ago on one of the other colonies. But dragons are particularly interesting, because biologically, they are probably the animal most similar to homo sapiens, oddly enough.”
“Any big breakthroughs?” Kuda asked.
A look of surprise crossed Brondi’s face. “Well, uh, we found something recently,” he admitted. “Quite recently, in fact.” He frowned, studying Kuda.
Luthena broke in. “Are you a scientist?”
Kuda shook his head. “No. Just curious.”
“Anyway, we’re not ready to publish anything yet,” Brondi finished.
“You guys capture dragons?” Shep asked. “So you can get samples from them?”
Brondi nodded. “We have in the past, yes. Why?”
“How many do you have in the facility now?” Shep continued.
“None,” Luthena said.
The two brothers glanced at each other briefly. Falken saw Kuda put a hand in his pocket.
What’s with all the questions suddenly? Falken wondered.
“It’s a very dangerous endeavor, as you’d expect,” Brondi said. “Capturing a dragon safely, and then keeping them safely inside. It’s a lot of effort, and right now we have all the blood and tissue samples we need. So we prefer to study them in their natural environment. We haven’t had one in the holding pens here for … oh, eight or nine months?”
Kuda drew a pistol from his pocket, and pointed it at Brondi. “Bad luck. That means you’re gonna have to go get us one.”
Chapter 21
In the pilot’s seat of the Liberty Belle, Talus flipped through several screens on his computer. Through the viewport at the front of the bridge, a massive asteroid hung suspended in space, rotating slowly in front of the ship.
“Yeah, that’s what did it,” he said. “The ship’s collision avoidance system pulled us out of FTL. It must have sensed the asteroid’s mass.”
“Well, where the hell did it come from?” Muir asked, eyeing the asteroid with concern. “It wasn’t here on our flight back from Olympus.”
“I guess it just drifted across our flight path,” Talus said, shrugging. “There are a lot of uncharted asteroids out there.” He typed on the screen for a second. “Except … that’s weird.”
“What?” Muir asked.
“The asteroid’s got a bit of axial rotation, but it doesn’t have much velocity. We’re pretty much at a dead stop right now, and it hasn’t moved relative to us at all.”
“So it can’t have drifted across our path – it’s not drifting at all,” Muir said.
“I mean, not unless it hit something that caused it to stop right here,” Talus said. “It could have hit another object, I guess.”
Muir frowned. “And whatever it hit caused it to lose all forward momentum, and it just happened to do that right along our typical flight path to Olympus?” She shook her head. “I don’t like this.” She pulled her headset on, and opened up the long-range communications app at her computer station. “Speaking of impacts, what hit us? We felt something hit the hull, right after we decelerated.”
“Dunno,” Talus said. “Let me do a full sensor scan.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Muir said. “This thing is giving me the creeps.” On her computer, she selected the radio channel for Harrison’s Waypoint.
“There’s another ship out there,” Talus said, his voice rising. “It’s right behind us!”
The view from the Liberty Belle’s aft-facing camera appeared on the bridge vidscreen. Another ship sat facing them, less than a hundred meters behind them. Thick cables linked the other ship to the aft quarter of the Liberty Belle, and as Muir watched, several figures detached themselves from the other ship’s hull, and slid rapidly along the cables, landing on their own hull.
“Fire her up!” Muir yelled, and Talus jammed his joystick forward, throwing power into the engines.
“Pirates?” he asked.
“They don’t look like they’re stopping by for a social call,” Muir observed, noting weapons slung over the backs of the figures.
“They’re hooked on real good,” Talus said. “Must have harpooned us when we first came out of FTL. I’m not going to be able to shake them off.”
“Mayday, mayday, mayday,” Muir said, speaking into her headset’s microphone. “This is the Liberty Belle. We are being boarded by a hostile party. Coordinates to follow.”
Talus grunted, twisting the joystick in his hand, trying to tangle the cables linking them to the other ship. But the other ship turned with them, and stayed firmly attached. On the camera, Muir saw the boarding party split up, each group heading for a different outer hatch.
“Any listening station,” Muir said. “This is the Liberty Belle. Please respond.”
“They’re jamming us,” Talus said.
“Yeah,” Muir said. She pulled her headset off and climbed out of her seat. “Stay here. Keep trying to break us loose, and keep trying the radio.”
> “Where are you going?” Talus asked.
“Port-side airlock,” Muir called, climbing down the ladder out of the bridge. “They want my ship, they’re going to have to fight me for it.”
Muir sprinted down the ship’s main corridor, then slid down the rails of another set of stairs into the aft cargo bay. There she pulled open an equipment locker, grabbing hold of a heavy-duty bolt-gun with both hands.
Usually use this thing to secure new hull plates in place after a rough trip to Olympus, she thought. Not ideal for the situation, but … it’ll do.
Muir dashed back up the stairs and hooked left down a side corridor, stopping next to the port-side airlock’s inner hatch. Carefully, she peeked around the sill of the hatch’s porthole. Four men in black spacesuits were pulling themselves in through the open outer hatch.
Jesus, they already got the outer hatch open? That was fast.
“Talus!” she shouted.
“Yeah!”
“They’re coming in,” she called. Muir armed the bolt-gun, checking to ensure that the magazine was full of thick, metal screws. She glanced around the narrow corridor, and then dropped back several feet, tucking herself inside the door frame of one of the ship’s guest cabins. Then she lined the bolt-gun up on the airlock’s inner hatch, and took several deep breaths, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.
“You want help?” Talus asked. “I don’t have any weapons up here.”
“No, stay there. Are they still tethered to us?” Muir asked.
“Yeah. I can’t shake ‘em.”
“Try leaping to FTL?” she asked.
“Won’t work,” he said. “They’re pinning me here behind the asteroid.”
Shit.
“What do you want me to do?” Talus asked.
“Keep trying to raise someone on the radio,” Muir replied.
From down the corridor, she heard the sound of hissing gas, and realized the intruders were repressurizing the airlock. Then, less than twenty seconds later, the inner hatch slid open. Two men ducked through a split second later – they had stripped off their bulky space helmets and now held rifles to their shoulders, scanning the hallway. Muir fired at the closest man’s chest.
He fired back at nearly the same instant, and Muir saw a stun round, sizzling with electricity, streak past her chest and embed itself in the wall. The bolt hit him in the vest before he could fire again, and he toppled over backwards, gripping his chest with both hands. Muir missed the second attacker with her second shot, but her third shot pinned his arm to the wall as he swung around to face her. He screamed in pain and dropped his rifle – Muir kept the bolt-gun trained on the door.
Come on, assholes. Who else wants some?
A small black cylinder rolled through the door a moment later, and immediately emitted a thick plume of greenish-white gas. Muir fired toward the hatch twice more, but the smoke was rapidly filling the corridor, and when it reached her, she began to cough, feeling her throat tighten up. Her eyes stung, and her nose began to run – she ducked out of the doorway and hurried down the hall, choking in the noxious fumes.
Several more stun rounds chased her down the hallway, but missed. Muir turned the corner and forced herself to stop. Holding the bolt-gun around the corner, she fired several more rounds blindly, coughing.
Damn it. Should have brought one of the oxygen masks up.
“Captain? Are you okay?” Talus called, from the bridge. She turned to answer him, and found herself facing four rifle barrels – the starboard-side boarding party had managed to sneak up on her from behind. One of the barrels coughed, and Muir felt a dull impact on her arm, and then her entire body went rigid. She fell to the floor, twitching.
From her position on the floor, Muir could only see boots. One pair stayed next to her, while the other three disappeared down the hallway toward the bridge.
Talus! Muir tried to speak, but could only croak out a whisper.
She heard another rifle fire, and then a rough voice called out, “Bridge is clear!”
More boots passed by – headed down to the cargo bay this time. Muir heard cabin doors opening, more boots hurrying down the corridor. Her arm twitched, seeming to move of its own accord – Muir tried to control it, and found she could slide it along the floor. She could see the bolt-gun only a few feet away.
A boot appeared and then a hand, and the bolt-gun was picked up and disappeared from view. “Stay down,” a voice told her. “I will stun you again.”
Several minutes passed. Muir heard more boots, and then someone pulled her arms behind her back, and she felt something hard and smooth slide over her wrists. The manacles tightened immediately, binding her hands together. Then a new pair of shoes appeared within her field of view.
“Ship’s clear. This one’s the captain,” a voice said. “She was waiting for Bravo Team when they came in, hit them with some nail gun.”
“Casualties?”
“Two. Cracked ribs, and a punctured arm. They’ll live, once we’re able to get the screws out.”
“Other crew?”
“Pilot’s up on the bridge. He went down without a fight.”
“Any damage to the ship?”
“No.”
“Good. Lock them in one of the cabins, under guard. I want to be back in transit in five minutes.”
“You got it.”
Muir felt herself lifted by the elbows, and deposited on shaking legs. The men facing her all wore full-face masks – except for one, who wore a set of blue coveralls. The rest were dressed in black spacesuits, the lightweight, low-profile kind favored by zero-g racers. She shook her head.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Your ship,” the man in blue coveralls told her, cocking his head to one side.
“If you steal this ship, people will die,” Muir said. “There’s a downed ship on Olympus right now, and we’re the only ones who can get them out.”
The man chuckled. “What a coincidence. We happen to be headed to Olympus ourselves.”
Chapter 22
Kuda kept the pistol pointed directly at Brondi. Shep stood up, and Falken saw that he, too was carrying a handgun – he gestured at Ed with it.
“Move, old man. Come over here where I can keep an eye on you.”
Ed stood and hurried over to the table. The brothers’ demeanor had shifted completely – gone were the jovial, thrill-seeking tourists. Falken looked in their eyes and saw nothing but cold, cruel resolve.
I’ve seen that look before. These guys could have come straight out of Archos’ crew.
Then, slowly, realization dawned on Falken.
“You,” he said, pointing at Kuda. “You’re the ones who crashed the Ecolympus.”
“Easy, Falken,” Shep warned. “You got us this far. Don’t go getting angry and causing a scene.”
“If everyone stays cool, this will all be over soon,” Kuda promised. “Cooperate and you live. Cause trouble?” He shrugged, glancing at the pistol in his hand meaningfully. “Don’t cause trouble.”
“What do you want?” Brondi asked.
“They’re here for our research,” Luthena said. “They want to steal our findings.”
“But we’ll be publishing them,” Brondi said. “They’ll be public before the year’s out.”
Kuda shook his head. “If we get our hands on the data first, we can start monetizing it first. We’ll have the patent on the treatment.”
“… and you can prevent the findings from going public at all. Whoever patents the first treatment that successfully delays the effects of aging will make trillions,” Falken said, sighing.
“Bingo,” Shep agreed.
“We don’t know if it will work or not,” Luthena told him. “We haven’t done any clinical trials, it’s all theoretical still.”
Shep shrugged. “You’re close. That’s all that matters.”
I’m not liking our odds right now, Falken thought, glancing around the room. This is a major crime, and we’re a
ll witnesses to it.
“What’s the plan?” he asked. “You take the data, hijack the Liberty Belle, and make your escape?”
“We’ll tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it,” Shep said.
“What happens to us?” Falken asked.
“Quit asking questions,” Kuda told him. “Just shut up and wait.”
Ed cleared his throat. “I have money,” he said.
“Didn’t I just say to shut the fuck up?” Kuda asked him.
Ed held his hands up. “My net worth is several billion dollars, counting company equity,” he continued, his voice shaking with fear. “I’ll see that you’re rewarded handsomely if you can guarantee my safety.”
Falken raised an eyebrow. Several billion? All this time I was worrying about him, and he was just a rich coward. And meanwhile, the brothers had me completely fooled with their frat boy routine.
Shep and Kuda shared a look. “We might be able to make a deal,” Kuda said.
“How about you make a deal guaranteeing the safety of all of us,” Vina told Ed.
The older man ignored her. “We have a deal?” Ed asked.
“‘We might,’ I said,” Kuda repeated. “Now just sit tight.”
One of the vidscreens flashed, and Falken saw that the Adrenaline Junkies were trying to make contact with the research center again.
“That’s a call from the other ship,” Falken said.
“I see it,” Kuda told him. “Give me the controller.”
Falken passed it to him, carefully.
“You’re going to talk to them, Falken,” Kuda told him, taking the device. “No video, just audio. And if you mention a word of this to them, I’ll shoot you, and then I’ll shoot Vina, too. Got it?”
“Okay,” Falken said, keeping his voice level.
Kuda pressed a button on the controller, and a voice icon appeared on the screen.
“Research center,” Falken said.
“Hey, it’s Quiss and Hylie. Is your feed jacked up? I’m not getting visual.”
“Really?” Falken asked. “Must be a malfunctioning camera over here. I’ll let Luthena and Brondi know. What’s up, Quiss?”
