by Darren Beyer
“Affirmative. You are not to enter the space station. Your personnel hatch must remain closed and locked.”
“But we are nearly out of reaction control consumables. We cannot cast off without refilling our tanks.”
“We understand your situation, but you will cast off after cargo is received. You may remain in a holding position, and when able, we will provide necessary supplies. Docking control out.”
Nassir spat a curse under his breath and stared absently at the control panel. Then his head snapped toward the others.
“There is no time to lose. Get your suits on—quickly! Meet at the cargo hatch. We’re going in on the cargo pod.”
As Nassir’s people sped back to their berths, Mandi turned to follow. A hand around her bicep stopped her short.
“Where are you going?”
Mandi spun to face Nassir. “To get a suit.”
“No. You are not going in.”
Mandi scowled. “The hell I’m not!”
“Now is not the time. You are not trained. You are not prepared for this. You are—”
“Your daughter?”
Nassir drew back in surprise, and his reaction only served to heighten Mandi’s anger.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You are unbelievable—and so obvious. Back on Iota, you called me ‘Mandisa.’ No one calls me that except my mother. And the way you pine after her. Do you think I’m so dense I didn’t notice? It’s insulting. Why, Nassir? For all these years, why?”
Nassir’s mouth flattened. “Now is not the time.” He turned his head toward the main bridge console. “OLIVER, I have set a countdown clock in my personal files. Do you see it?”
“Yes, Mister Khalid, I have access.”
“When it reaches five minutes, engage reaction controls and pull the ship away from the station, regardless of whether we are back on board or not.”
“Sir.” OLIVER’s voice carried a hint of a patronizing tone. “I do not have access to the station’s docking locks.”
Nassir closed his eyes and took in a slow, deep breath through his nose. “I am well aware of that. Forcefully pull the ship away. Break the clamps.”
“Wait,” Mandi said. “We’re not going to leave without you.”
“For the last time, not now. I’ve got to get to the weapons locker.” Nassir pushed himself toward the aft of the ship, then caught himself. “OLIVER.”
“Yes, Mister Khalid.”
“Do whatever is necessary to keep Mandi on this ship.”
Chapter 57: New Reyk Station
Pushed from behind by one of Erik’s men, Grae went through the hatch into the ten-meter-wide, round cargo transfer corridor that ran the length of the station’s central core. At its center, the four spokes that connected it to the rotating outer ring spun around a complex transfer hub that allowed personnel and supplies to board elevators or enter the spokes themselves to travel to the edges of the station.
As Erik and his two men clumsily moved Grae toward the hub, a cargo pod maneuvered into view at the far end of the long corridor. At first, Grae couldn’t see those who moved it, but then he caught a glimpse of a shoulder pad and part of a pressure suit helmet. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He squinted, but it didn’t change what he’d seen.
A push from the guard behind him spoiled his view, and Grae glared at him over his shoulder.
“Stop.”
At Erik’s command, one of the guards grasped the plastic cuffs securing Grae’s hands behind his back, braced against the side wall, and pulled him to a stop.
“Security, this is Hallerson. What is the status of the cargo transfer?”
As when he was on the helipad of AIC Tower, Grae strained to listen in on the conversation. The low drone of background machinery and the whoosh of the station’s circulation made it difficult, but he caught something about malfunctioning video feeds.
“What bay received the cargo?” Erik waited for the response. “Stand by. Cargo lock Bravo Three, what is your status?” Again, Erik waited. “Cargo lock Bravo Three, respond. Security, I am unable to reach the cargo lock. Try them.”
Grae barely made out the security center’s attempts to contact personnel in the lock. With each failed attempt, the volume of the anxious voice increased.
Erik hissed and pushed past Grae. He peered through the central hub, scanning the opposite end of the transfer shaft and the cargo moving slowly toward them. Then he looked over his shoulder at the direction from which they’d just come.
“There is no way out of this end of the docking core except through that hub.” Erik looked to his guards. “Are you both current on your zero-g combat certs?”
They both nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I don’t know what’s happening, or who’s moving that cargo pod, but if they get to the hub before we do, we’ll be trapped.” Erik spoke into his comm. “Security, Hallerson. Get all available forces to the docking core—fully armed.”
Chapter 58: New Reyk Station
Mandi hovered so close to the main screen that her eyelashes itched from the static electricity it generated. Four of the five helmet camera feeds it displayed showed little beyond the worn paint of the back end of the cargo pod containing Nassir’s hyperium bomb—whatever the hell that was. The fifth came from the crewmember they’d left behind in the cargo lock to cover the two station personnel who’d maneuvered the pod onto the station. The station’s personnel clearly hadn’t expected the pod to open from the inside and disgorge armed intruders—a space version of the ancient horse of Troy. While the two men were subdued, the rest of Nassir’s crew covered the surveillance cameras with an ample coating of black rubber spray of the type typically used to patch small leaks. Nassir’s people had looked nervous and inexperienced as they prepared for their task, but once in action, they moved with the grace of trained soldiers.
When one of the helmets leaned slightly to the side of the cargo pod, Mandi caught a glimpse of the transfer corridor that connected all the locks on the docking core. Far down its length, a group of four men floated in zero gravity.
Mandi’s vision flashed, and her focus was drawn to one of the men. Every hair on her body stood on end—a sensation having nothing to do with her proximity to the screen.
“OLIVER.” The helmet supplying the feed moved back behind the cargo pod. “Shit!”
“Yes, Mandi, how may I assist you?”
“Can you rewind the camera feeds?”
“Of course. Which feed would you like me to rewind?”
Mandi looked to the upper corner of the feed she’d been watching. “Four. Rewind number four!” The footage began moving backward, again showing the length of the corridor. “Stop! Zoom in on the people in the corridor.”
The low lighting didn’t give Mandi a clear view of their faces, but the long blond hair and the posture of the man at the back of the group sent shivers through her body. Again her vision flashed, and fear and apprehension ran through her like a shock. Erik Hallerson was on board the space station.
“OLIVER, get me Nassir on the comm.”
“Mister Khalid gave strict instructions that a communications blackout be in effect except in the case of emergency.”
“This is a damn emergency. Get Nassir!”
Mandi ground her teeth in the silent seconds that followed, her gaze shifting among the live feeds.
“Mandisa,” Nassir growled. “I’m a little busy right now.”
“Hallerson is here.”
“Good, we’ll get him when—”
“No, you don’t understand. He’s down the corridor, and I think he knows something is up. He has three men with him.”
“Armed?”
Mandi snapped her gaze back to the frozen video feed. “I can’t tell. Maybe holsters, pistols.” She scrutinized the blurry figures. The one who floated in front appeared to have his arms bound behind his back. She studied his body, then his face. Suddenly, fear gripped her heart. The build, the face, the dark color of his hair, t
he olive hue of his skin…
“Grae!” Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Nassir, one of the men with Hallerson is Grae Raymus—he’s one of Jans’s.”
There was no response. “Nassir!”
“Nassir is not accepting comm requests.”
OLIVER’s emotionless voice had a calming effect, and spurred Mandi to action. Spinning and kicking off the main screen, she shot through the bridge hatch. A few meters down the ship’s central shaft, she grabbed a handle, abruptly halting her movement and slamming her into a bulkhead. Without pausing, she pushed herself to the ship’s pressure suit locker and pulled on the handle to open it. It was locked.
“OLIVER, open the suit locker.”
“I am sorry, Mandi, but I am unable to comply.”
“OLIVER—”
“The suit locker is not an automated system. I have no access to the locking mechanism.”
“Shit.” Mandi pressed her lips together. “OLIVER, contact whoever Nassir left in the cargo lock, and have him open the lock’s personnel hatch.”
“I was instructed by Mister Khalid to do everything possible to keep you aboard this ship. Doing what you ask would violate this instruction.”
“Damn it, OLIVER!” Mandi closed her eyes and calmed herself. “Why should you follow Nassir’s orders over mine?”
“The ship belongs to him. My control priority is first to the registered license holder or designee. The current license holder is Governor Ennis. Second priority is to any wearer of a licensed control device, third to the owner/operator of my host system, and lastly, limited functional control to any person within audible range.”
“OLIVER—” Mandi paused. Then something occurred to her. “Why did you tell me that?”
“I am simply relaying my control logic.”
“OLIVER, is there a control device on board this ship?”
“Yes. The suit you wore when you were rescued from the launch vehicle at Ouricsen is stored in cargo pod eight.”
Mandi launched herself down the ship’s central core, pulling herself to a stop at the hatch labeled with the appropriate worn black number. Bracing her feet, she grasped the wheel that engaged its lock and spun it open.
Inside, a number of dirty canvas storage bags were cinched tight with yellow cargo straps that secured them to all sides of the pod. Mandi began releasing the strap locks and rifling through likely bags one by one. The third yielded what she was looking for: a familiar, fashionable helmet and its form-fitting suit. All she needed was the helmet to talk to OLIVER.
She started to reach for it, but stopped herself. Nassir’s people were all wearing pressure suits in case Hallerson decided to vent the atmosphere in the cargo section of the space station. It wouldn’t hurt her to suit up as well.
She pulled it from the bag and slid it over her coveralls. When she donned the helmet, the suit snugged tight and powered on.
“OLIVER, get that personnel hatch open.”
She swung out of the cargo pod and turned in the direction of the bridge. She heard the pneumatic hiss of the personnel hatch opening, and as she approached, she smiled. Through it, she could see the interior of the space station’s cargo lock.
“I love you, OLIVER.”
“Thank you. May I remind you—”
“Later, OLIVER.”
Mandi pulled herself through the hatch, to the obvious surprise of the two bound and floating station personnel. At seeing the look on their faces, Nassir’s guard pivoted as well. His eyes betrayed a combination of surprise and concern.
“Miss Nkosi, what are you doing here? You need to get back on the ship.” He moved to block her from moving farther into the lock.
“There is no time to explain.” Mandi set her jaw. “Get out of my way.”
Under her glare, his willpower wavered, and he pushed himself aside. Mandi thanked him with a single nod, then turned to the massive door leading to the docking core. As soon as the door slid open, the staccato pops of gunfire echoed from outside—with more than a few thuds and ricochets. Mandi quickly pulled herself down and to the side before sliding into the main corridor.
She surveyed the action up ahead. Just short of the central hub connecting the station’s four main spokes, Nassir and his people had stopped the cargo pod next to the last cargo lock door. They were using the pod as cover. On the opposite side of the hub, Erik and his men had braced themselves against a bulkhead, and were firing and ducking back as quickly as zero g would allow. Grae was there as well, flattening himself against the side of the corridor.
One of Nassir’s men leaned to the side of the cargo pod, and a round caught him in his midsection. Mandi heard no scream as he spun backward, letting go of his pistol. Both tumbled slowly toward Mandi, and his blood spilled out in all directions.
Grabbing the edge of the cargo pod, Nassir leaned out and fired several shots in quick succession. He hit one of Erik’s men and sent him into a similar tumble in the opposite direction. Suppressing a shudder, Mandi brought her knees to her chest and launched off the wall to the opposite side of the corridor. She ducked as a bullet dug a gouge mere centimeters from her head. Just up the corridor, the body bumped into the wall, slowing with its loss of momentum, and across from it, the butt of his pistol knocked into an exposed pipe, causing it to spin even faster.
Again, Mandi launched off the wall. Her target was the pistol, now spinning in the middle of the corridor. As she drew close, she realized she was just off target, and thrust her hand toward the weapon. With her first attempt to grab it, she merely batted it, but she did manage to push it in her direction of travel, and her second attempt was successful. Just as she pulled it in with both hands, she slammed into the opposite wall and bit her lip, filling her mouth with blood.
Ignoring the pain, she jumped again, this time launching herself down the corridor toward Nassir and his three remaining men. As she approached, she saw that one of Nassir’s men had opened a panel in the cargo pod and was working on something inside. Another crewman had opened the black duffel bag and was placing breach charges on the cargo lock door.
Nassir turned and saw Mandi. He unlocked his visor and flipped it open. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
Mandi leaned out briefly to look down the corridor toward Erik and Grae. “The man with Erik—with his hands behind his back. He’s one of ours. We need to get him out of here.”
Nassir could not suppress his anger. “He is not our mission. We are in position.” He looked questioningly at his man working in the open panel of the cargo pod. The man returned a thumbs-up. “We’re setting the final breach charges. Our device is set—I can’t stop it.”
Mandi again leaned out to look toward Grae—and her eyes went wide. The heavy bulkhead door at the central hub was closing, its interlocking plates sliding in slowly from all sides.
She looked down at the pistol in her hand, then back at the shrinking opening, and finally, at the black duffel.
Then Mandi made her move.
Chapter 59: New Reyk Station
Shots from the unknown station intruders cracked through the air, striking bulkheads and walls around Grae, Erik, and Erik’s one remaining man. Only Erik’s lackey had a pistol, and his attempts to return fire were hampered by his relative lack of cover. Grae tried to make himself as small as possible and present as little of a target as he could.
“Where is my security team?” Erik screamed into his comm.
With the gunfire deadening his hearing, Grae couldn’t make out the response.
“We don’t have ninety seconds! Close Bravo side bulkhead door at the central hub.” Erik snarled. “Now!”
Grae hazarded a look through the hub toward the intruders. As the large door on the far side of the hub began to close, a tall, lean woman in an odd, form-fitting pressure suit shot out from behind the cargo pod the intruders used as cover. Through the reflections on her visor, Grae made out some details of her face, and his eyes opened wide in recognitio
n.
“Mandi.” His voice was a whisper. What is she doing here?
“What is she doing here?” Erik spat the same words Grae was thinking, his voice dripping with anger.
Mandi had a pistol in one hand and a black duffel bag in the other. She had a clear line to Grae, Erik, and his one remaining man. The guard took aim at her with his pistol.
“No!” Even with his arms bound behind him, Grae mustered enough strength to slam his shoulder into the guard, throwing him away from the wall just as he fired. With nothing to brace against, the man flailed and spun into the central hub.
Erik grasped Grae by his shirt and, with unnatural strength, slammed him hard against the wall. Grae managed not to cry out, but he couldn’t suppress a grunt of pain as the wind was forced from his lungs.
The bulkhead door was past its halfway mark, its opening a shrinking square in the middle. Beyond it, Mandi kicked off the wall and angled toward the opening. At almost the same time, Erik’s man, slowly rotating in the openness of the middle of the hub, brought his pistol to the middle of his body and fired.
As if she’d anticipated it, Mandi used the door as leverage to change her direction as she passed through, causing the clumsily aimed shot to miss. But the force pushed Erik’s man toward the opposite wall, allowing him to brace for more controlled fire. His next shot would have better aim.
Mandi released the duffel so she could grab at the closing door to steady herself. She brought her pistol to eye level and used both hands to aim down the barrel.
Seeing her stance, Grae’s eyes went wide. “Wait!”
She fired.
Mandi’s shot caught Erik’s man in the shoulder. He cried out, tumbled backward, and let go of his pistol as he struck the wall. But Mandi also tumbled backward. Unrestrained and with her pistol held too high, the force of the shot sent her backward, and she slammed her helmet into the door just as it closed. She appeared to be stunned.
