Salvaging the Beast (The Fall and Rise of the Third Planet Book 1)

by John Marshall Davis

  Her heart leapt. It was time for payback.

  “What do you mean?” asked Saul.

  “My associate can fill you in on the details. Dr. Stratos, I have need of your skills on this operation. I’m not referring to your medical career. I am sure you are eager to reciprocate my assistance.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Stratos replied.

  “You will, shortly. Mr. Iverson, you’re on deck to help with the salvage of this artifact once their phase is complete. It took them long enough, but LFAF finally answered your salvage declaration. Anyone who knows me is aware of my dislike for the Federacy, but I believe they want this thing back pretty badly.”

  Rorvin left. Calypso faced the others. “Alright, here’s the plan I’ve been working on.”

  ***

  Clinging to the power lines that ran like intestines inside the Beast of Burden, Calypso waited patiently while air filled the service compartment. Along the bottom of the ship there was a tiny hatch the assassin had used to gain entrance. She found it difficult to fit through. Despite being larger, Saul had claimed he used the entrance on two separate occasions.

  This particular area of the ship was full of conduits and pipes; the electrical plant was nearby. Typically, it was not kept pressurized, but air could be added in case emergency repairs were needed. If one wanted to sneak aboard the Beast, it was a matter of patience and a disabled pressure sensor. There was no telling how many of her uncle’s crew knew about this little secret, but it was in everyone’s best interest not to talk about it, lest the captain find out.

  Calypso estimated the pressure would be high enough in about ten minutes to access the rest of the ship without affecting the air in the adjoining passage. If it were functioning properly, the pressure detector in this compartment would have sent an alarm to the cockpit by now. The sensor was long ago disabled by someone clever enough to keep the diagnostic system from flagging the malfunction. Since this was not a proper airlock, the equipment was minimal and the process took longer.

  The Beast was kept at a healthy distance from the Cage. Bernard and his men had used the second shuttle to dock with the station. They had yet to return, and if her uncle was true to form, he left only a small crew behind to watch the ship. Bernard had a bone to pick with his salvage technician, and was off hunting him down.

  A carefully aimed launch from the station had made Calypso look like non-hazardous space debris that would gently bounce off the ship’s hull. Anything more obvious would attract attention.

  The pressure reached normal, and Calypso grasped the inner hatch release. The portal was not much bigger than the one she had used to enter the ship. Stratos had suggested she leave her suit on even after she was safely inside.

  Calypso poked her helmet into the opening and scanned the corridor on the other side. It was empty. Quickly, she pulled herself through. Closing the hatch behind her, she was ready to move to the second stage of the plan. Not only did she break into the ship without being noticed, but the old secret entrance was close to where she needed to be.

  It didn’t take long for Calypso to find Saul’s workspace. As promised, a loose computer terminal floated gently in midair, tangled in more wires than she bothered to count. There was a port right where the technician had said it would be. Reaching for the bag strapped to her chest, Calypso produced the tablet and cable Saul had provided for this task. He had assured her it would work as promised, unless the captain had changed the security codes on the ship’s network. They both agreed that was highly unlikely, knowing Bernard.

  After connecting the cable, Calypso had more waiting to do. She looked around the room, marveling at the state of Saul’s little domain tucked beneath the main thrusters. Cargo netting lay sprawled across entire sections of the walls, as if a giant spider was living here. While the nets contained many objects, some had escaped. If the door to the room was not kept shut, Calypso suspected Saul’s belongings would find their way all around the ship. She wondered if the captain would ever pay for artificial gravity, or if he planned to keep his crew on exercise regimens and bone density boosters. Either way, it wouldn’t matter once this operation was complete.

  A short beep indicated the program had run its course and Calypso was free to remove the cable. She now had control of several ship functions through the tablet, which was connected to the local wireless network. Before proceeding, she checked the ship’s thermal scanners to see how many of the crew were still aboard. There were seven in addition to herself. It was more than she had expected to find.

  Calypso inspected the airlocks. Unable to operate them from Saul’s device, she left the workroom behind, making her way to the other end of the Beast, careful to avoid the crew whom she could now track. A pair of them were loitering just in front of the hatch she needed to open. Calypso sidled up to the end of the passage, risking a quick peek around the corner.

  Two little girls were playing inside the airlock, tossing a ball back and forth. Bernard must have hired them after banishing his niece. He knew children were useful for certain duties, including ones any decent person would find abhorrent. Bastard.

  She withdrew, trying to think of a plan to get them out of the way. Searching through the options on the ship access program Saul had shown her, she spotted something useful. A quick swipe of her finger against the tablet screen set off the low pressure alarm. It was a gamble since they might run straight into Calypso while fleeing.

  It made her glad to see them choose the other path. She made for the airlock controls, closed the inner hatch, and started the cycle to drain the air. Beeping, the airlock signaled low pressure.

  Opening the outer hatch, Calypso expected company. Another thirty seconds and the lock was full of air, lights flashing green. She opened the inner hatch.

  Out sailed a former Maxilla in battle gear. Having done a spacewalk like Calypso, his suit was set to black, but she knew the surface color could automatically change to match the wearer’s surroundings—the perfect camouflage.

  She looked him up and down. Stratos was rather striking in his “surplus” armor. He had strapped a pistol outfitted with a vacuum kit to his waist. Spread across his body were miniaturized explosives. Almost unnoticeable, Calypso knew they could blow apart capital ship armor plating. That was Plan B, had the secret entrance not panned out.

  “Welcome to the Beast of Burden,” Calypso intoned.

  Switching his faceplate from opaque to clear, Stratos gave her a smile. “Permission to come aboard?” he asked, winking.

  “Granted, of course.”

  “Let’s get to work,” the doctor said calmly. If Calypso didn’t know better, she would think Stratos was enjoying the prospect of playing soldier for the first time in years.

  “Boarding actions aren’t exactly my forte, doctor. Are you up for this, or have you gotten soft?” It was a serious question, though Calypso realized how it sounded.

  “Not to worry. Besides, diplomacy should get us what we want,” Stratos suggested, then hastily added, “I think.”

  “If you are negotiating with that,” Calypso began, pointing to the gun, “I think we’ll be fine.”

  “So, I’m taking the direct approach?”

  “You are much bigger. You’re wearing the armor, though it probably won’t matter. I have no idea how well armed the crew is now, but in my day, Bernard would never allow them to carry guns. The sight of you ought to make them think twice about refusing. And if they do—” Calypso paused before finishing her thought. “That’s where I come in.”

  “That’s a great plan.”

  She could not tell if the doctor was being serious or sarcastic. “We’ll find out,” replied Calypso. It seemed like a good response, either way.

  “Don’t forget to secure all of the space suit lockers,” Stratos reminded her. “You can do that from the server, right?”

  “That’s what Saul told me.”

  ***

  Nestled inside the server compartment, Calypso had access to nea
rly every function aboard ship. With Saul’s current security codes, nothing was out of her reach. Had her uncle any idea how much power his salvage technician wielded on this ship? If so, he probably would have treated the guy a little better.

  She tracked Stratos as he approached the cockpit, which was as good a place as any for the theatrics they had rehearsed. With Rorvin’s blessing, she and the doctor had agreed it was sensible to keep as many of the crew as possible. Calypso knew the motives varied between the three of them, but the consensus was against wasting human life that had experience running the ship.

  Stratos activated the hatch to the cockpit. Selecting the audio feed from the microphones there, Calypso listened in.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the doctor greeted. The sensors showed two warm bodies in addition to the commando.

  “Who are you?” one of them barked.

  “For now, let’s just say I represent Rorvin Enterprises.” There was nothing in response but silence. “I wish to address the crew, those still aboard,” Stratos announced. “Please call them to the cockpit.” Calypso could make out some shuffling sounds. The doctor added, “Now.” After a moment, she heard the shipwide announcement hit the comm system.

  “Attention,” said a different voice. It was the other crew member speaking. “All hands to the cockpit, immediately.”

  Calypso brought up a window on her screen showing the complete layout of the ship with each crew member’s location superimposed. She watched as three sensor contacts made their way to the fore section of the middle deck. Two remained in the sick bay. She decided to overlook that, as they might be incapacitated. The doctor kept himself near the hatch; he would be out of view for anyone approaching the cockpit until it was too late. It took almost ten minutes to get everyone together.

  “I’m going to make this quick and simple,” Stratos began. “I work for Keith Rorvin. I think you all know who that is. As of now, this ship is his. You can join up, and continue working here under a different flag, or you can take a shuttle ride back to the Cage.”

  Sounds of a scuffle filled her earpiece. Calypso adjusted the volume in an attempt to hear what was happening. She and Stratos had been unsuccessful at syncing comms between their suits, probably due to his protective jammer. One way communication was all they could muster for this phase of the plan.

  A gunshot rang out, deafening Calypso. She reduced the volume, straining to hear over the ringing in her ears. All was quiet, and then a dull thump reverberated. A body must have bounced off the wall near a microphone. For a brief moment, Calypso feared it was Dean’s.

  “Or you can follow your friend.”

  She felt immense relief upon hearing Dean’s voice.

  “I’d prefer to save the ammo. No? Alright then. My name, by the way, is Dean Stratos. Now, let’s see what your ship thinks of me. Beast of Burden? Will you be my ship?”

  That was the cue Calypso had been waiting for. She adjusted the lighting in the cockpit to dim for a second, then return to normal.

  “See that? I think she likes me,” asserted the doctor. Calypso wondered if that was a practical touch to demoralize the crew, or merely a quirk of Dean’s personality. Dean. When had she started thinking of him by his first name?

  “What do we do now?” That was Rhonda McGee. Something about her speech was odd. Calypso ran a diagnostic on her voice pattern. She was grieving. The entire crew had elevated heart rates.

  “Keep right on doing what you’ve been doing,” Dean explained. “Maintain the ship and follow my orders. Any questions? Oh, and mutiny is not allowed. Only one hostile takeover per day.”

  No doubt his attempts at humor fell on deaf ears in the wake of losing a comrade to gunfire. Calypso suspected there were globs of blood and gore floating around the cockpit.

  “Whoever is currently on duty as pilot, stay here with me,” he ordered. “The rest of you are dismissed. And don’t try anything funny. I have your ship wrapped around my finger. Hear that, Cal? You’re all mine.”

  Calypso smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had called her that.

  ***

  Listening to Dean’s half of the conversation, Calypso was unable to hear what Rorvin was saying. The doctor was now alone in the cockpit, having sent the pilot off to check something unimportant to keep him busy. She had made sure Dean’s transmission was the only one allowed from the ship, in case the crew tried to warn their captain.

  “Yes sir, the ship is secure,” said Dean. “I had to kill one of them. There are six left. I don’t think they can stay on as crew. They have a strong loyalty for their captain, and seeing their shipmate die has galvanized them. It’s commendable, but it means we can’t trust the crew not to sabotage us. I’d do the same in their place.”

  There was silence while he listened to Rorvin.

  “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. We can dump them somewhere on the station. They know nothing secret that will come back to haunt us. They aren’t going to mess with Rorvin Enterprises, especially with their old captain out of the picture. We can change all the codes and fix the weakness we exploited.”

  At that moment, Calypso noticed three of the crew congregating near the electrical plant. They had no business there. She tuned in to the audio feeds from that section. Calypso only had to listen for about five seconds to figure out what they were planning. Thank her uncle for being so paranoid.

  She thumbed the speaker control for the cockpit, and spoke into the mic dangling from the terminal. “Dean, get ready. The crew is planning to cut the power. I’ll try to stop them from here.”

  A crew member was fast approaching the plant. That was probably the pilot. Judging by the vital feeds coming from the sick bay, Calypso decided the two there must be the children. She held her breath, waiting for the pilot to join the others. As soon as he entered the same compartment as his colleagues, she let her fingers dance as fast she could will them.

  Once the hatches surrounding the electrical plant locked, Calypso moved on to the local atmosphere. She drained the air as quickly as the system would allow. Initially, the heat signatures in the room darted around frantically. After a minute they went still. Calypso continued to stare at the screen, waiting for someone to move. No one did.

  Dean was no longer in the cockpit. Calypso activated the shipwide address. “Stand down, Dean. I’ve handled it.”

  “What’s going on up there?” cried an unsettled voice over the comm. It was coming from the sick bay. It sounded like an adult.

  That meant only one of the children was still alive. Oh my God.

  Calypso ripped the headset from her scalp. The hatch to the server room wouldn’t open fast enough, her hands forcing it along.

  ***

  The assassin took in a slow breath. Why would this bother her? She made a living in the death trade.

  Cowering against the far wall of the sick bay, Bonnie Atkins shielded the little girl with her body. The diminutive woman was a salvage operator Calypso remembered well from her own days aboard the Beast.

  “Calypso?” the operator stuttered a little, her eyes wide.

  “We’ve taken the ship. The rest are dead. Don’t worry, we won’t harm you if you don’t give us a reason to.”

  The woman just stared, unable or unwilling to respond. Calypso always thought Bonnie was too nice to be working for someone like her uncle, and that sooner or later something awful would happen to her. Yet here she was, one of the two survivors of a shipwide culling.

  “I’m sorry about this, Bonnie. I’m going to lock the door. You should have everything you need for a while. If there’s an emergency, we are monitoring the comms.”

  Calypso could not remain another second. She left the room.

  ***

  “Cal?” a concerned voice sounded through the locked door of the server compartment.

  She jumped, drawing her knife.

  “It’s me.” The voice belonged to Dean. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”
How long have I been zoned out? “How are we doing?”

  “So far, so good. Torus’s shuttle is prepping for launch,” Dean informed. “He’ll be here soon. Once we sort him out, Saul should be ready to bring the artifact over.”

  “Okay. I’ll be out in a minute,” she promised. Placing a hand against her temple to ward off an oncoming migraine, she felt moisture along the corner of one eye. “Dean?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me one of the crew members you saw was a child?”

  “I didn’t think it was important at the time. I’m really sorry, Cal.”

  Calypso said nothing.

  ***

  “You must hate your old captain.”

  Observing through a small window beside the airlock, they could see the Cage docks. Small thruster plumes erupted around what Calypso knew was her uncle’s shuttle. The craft was underway. Bernard was coming.

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Was he really all that bad?” Dean asked. “Saul says he’s a hard man, but I’ve seen a lot worse.”

  “I have my reasons,” she said. “It’s personal.”

  “Ah. It usually is.” Dean went silent for a while. The shuttle was closing in.

  “I can’t do it,” she blurted. Calypso was stunned at her own outburst.

  “If we do nothing, he’ll stroll in here and be awfully pissed,” her partner explained. His voice was tinged with frustration. “I really don’t want to lose our advantage.”

  “I know. Something is wrong with me,” she confessed.

  Laying one hand on her shoulder, Dean smiled a tired smile. Without a word, he turned and made his way down the narrow corridor leading to the cockpit. Calypso followed.

  Once there, he pressed some keys and touched one of the control screens. Calypso recognized the interface for the grappling arm. Visible from the cockpit window, the enormous claw swung outward and around, reaching for the oncoming spacecraft. Caught in the grappler, Torus’s shuttle was helpless. Dean tapped the icon labeled “Compress” on the screen.