The screen lit up in bright green as Scamp fired one of the weapons at a specific angle to heat up the force field and added energy to it.
“How long do we have until we pull up?” Giles asked.
Scamp processed the answer. “By my calculations we have fourteen seconds. Unless I can overload the system first.”
The ship suddenly leveled and then lurched in the opposite direction, putting the three organics into another equally awkward position in their console chairs.
Giles was starting to feel nauseous. “How long do you think it will take to overload it now that you’re working on it?” he asked, still gripping his chair arms.
“13.5 seconds,” Scamp responded flatly.
Arlene raised her eyes to the ceiling. “No matter how specific we are about not wanting to die, it seems our efforts are thwarted by whatever he wants to do.”
Beno’or tried to lean over and get Arlene’s attention despite still being tipped awkwardly back in his chair. “Tell me, are your AIs still programmed with the rule that they’re not allowed to harm their organics?” he asked.
Arlene shook her head. “I used to think that was the case. Until about twenty seconds ago, at least”.
Beno’or frowned, anxiety creasing his eyes. “You don’t seem that concerned,” he observed in a loud whisper, as if to avoid Scamp overhearing but with clearly little success, since Scamp could hear everything that happened in the ship.
Arlene shrugged. “There’s nothing for us to do at this point. Scamp has got this. We just need to sit back and trust him, for now.”
Beno’or didn’t look entirely comforted by the statement, but he tried to relax into his chair, still fighting the forces tipping the ship into a steep bank.
Just then there was a prolonged green flash which illuminated the cockpit from the screen up front.
“Success!” Scamp declared. “Force field forced down,” he confirmed.
There was a chorus of mutters and sighs from the three organics.
“Okay Scamp, take us down,” Giles instructed, “and be prepared for evasive maneuvers. Shields full. We don’t know what kind of anti-spacecraft weapons they have down there, and we’ve likely pissed them off now.”
“Roger that,” Scamp acknowledged.
The ship leveled out and Beno’or and Giles both readjusted their positions in their seats. The artificial gravity normalized on board as well, and within moments it was almost as if nothing untoward had happened at all.
Beno’or remembered his previous anxiety. “Am I safe to go and check on that pot of mocha?” he asked Arlene, a little nervously. “I fear it’s likely fallen prey to the g-forces.”
Arlene nodded. “Yes, of course. But if anything happens, make sure you strap in to whatever seat you can get to back there, okay?
Beno’or nodded, unbuckled himself and staggered to the doorway, using the other chairs as crutches like a new sailor who hadn’t yet developed his sea legs.
Giles spun his chair round to catch Arlene’s eye. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that Beno’or has the same priorities as Molly with his mocha obsession, eh?”
Arlene smiled, knowingly. “Wasn’t going to say a word,” she lied dryly.
“Giles,” Scamp announced, “I’ve identified a likely location for the tomb. It’s a raised artificial structure with dug out tunnels underneath it. Looks promising. It’s a few kilometers from the terraformed guard dome,” he told him.
Giles poked at his console holo. “Good job, Scamp!” he said after a moment. Arlene craned her neck to see but the angle was wrong. “Set us down nearby if you would?” he requested.
“Roger that, Mr. Kurns,” Scamp replied, a sense of achievement in his voice.
Giles swung round in his chair to talk with Arlene. “Well, looks like this is going to be easier than we thought,” he smiled.
Arlene scowled at him. “How much do I wish you hadn’t said that?”
Giles looked confused. “Why? What?” he asked.
Arlene shook her head lightly, her raven hair dropping in front of her face, her hair tie dislodged in the recent activities. “You just had to jinx it!” she scolded him lightly.
Giles held his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry!” he surrendered. “I thought we were scientists,” he mumbled, with a hint of humor.
Arlene narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a heathen. And a brute!” she told him, a glint in her eye.
“So you’ve told me before,” he nodded, flashing her his best, charming smile.
She shook her head and turned away so he couldn’t see her grinning.
Giles carried on as if he had won her over. “Okay, so our little antic up there has lost us the element of surprise,” he continued, changing the subject. “As soon as we land, you and I need to get out there and get to that tomb. Pronto. They know we’re here and they’ll be coming for us.”
Arlene nodded. “Agreed. We should probably also be armed,” she told him.
Giles ignored her comment. “Scamp?”
“Yes, Giles?”
“What about the guards?” he asked.
Scamp ran another scan. “There are only six life signs.”
Giles looked back at Arlene. “If we move fast we could be in and out before they even reach us,” he said, his tone more hopeful than just a statement of absolute fact.
Arlene wrinkled her nose. “We’ve no idea what kind of travel machines they have,” she pointed out.
Giles took a deep breath, then relaxed his shoulders in a resigned way. “I’ll be bait and hold them off, or distract them or whatever. It will give you the chance to get in and I’ll keep them busy outside.”
Arlene’s jaw set. “No you won’t! We’re a team. And you’re not going to start that ‘sacrificing yourself’ nonsense again. Did you learn nothing last time?”
But Giles had stopped listening. “Scamp, how soon until they know our position once we land?” he asked.
Scamp’s voice came back over the intercom. “We have no way to measure this. Maybe immediately.”
Giles looked back at Arlene. “So perhaps we can subdue them?” he suggested.
Arlene nodded once. “Tranqs?”
Giles pursed his lips. “Yeah, except we need a clear shot,” he said, thinking out loud. “And what if that doesn’t work? If these guys are Zhyn, they’re going to be big,” he added putting his arms out to his side, and then remembering that Beno’or was only next door. His face flickered with embarrassment as he put his arms down again quickly.
Arlene pulled out her handgun in response to his question.
Giles shook his head. “No no no. We don’t want to do that,” he protested.
Arlene tilted her head to one side. “You got a better idea?” she asked.
Giles rubbed one hand over his face, screwing up his eyes against the stress. “We’ll deal with it,” he said, admitting he didn’t have an immediate answer. “Load up on tranqs and set all weapons to stun. The last thing we want is a diplomatic crisis because we killed a Zhyn guard.”
Arlene casually shrugged as she unbuckled and went to the back to suit up and strap on her weapons.
Giles called out to her as she left. “What I wanna know is when did you become so battle hungry?”
Arlene reappeared at the doorway, grinning. “You try being cooped up on an asteroid like Gaitune for sixty years and see how you like it!” she retorted.
Giles smiled, nodding in understanding. “Although,” he ventured, “I imagine it’s more interesting now that Lance has reactivated the Sanguine Squadron.”
Arlene chuffed, still hanging onto the door frame. “Yeah, although I suspect your ‘interest’ lies more in the direction of Molly Bates than that old dusty base,” she retorted, getting her final dig in before disappearing out of earshot.
Giles couldn’t help himself. “My my, jealousy isn’t a color that suits you, Arlene!” he called after her.
He half expected some witty retort, but when none
came he suspected she may not have even heard.
Funny how she always seems to win the last word, even when she technically didn’t have the last word, he thought to himself.
CHAPTER NINE
Unknown location
“Okay, we’re here.”
Anne heard the now familiar gruff voice of the driver as the space van slowed and the tone of the engine changed. She remained motionless in the darkness, straining to hear the conversation.
“I think the drop-off is just round the back here. But lemme just message the guard,” the voice continued.
There was some mumbling and shuffling in the cabin. Anne strained to hear but she couldn’t make out what they were saying now.
She was cold to the bone. One foot had gone to sleep partly from the temperature, partly from her position, and mostly from the binds around her ankles cutting into her circulation. She imagined this really hadn’t been a consideration for the kidnappers when they bound her.
She shuffled, trying to ease the pressure, hoping to make herself more agile for when the time came to make her break.
During the course of the ride she imagined a hundred different ways she might fight back and get free. In her mind she practiced winning. Getting loose and then getting away.
She knew the odds of that were slim, though.
“Right, we’re on!” the driver’s voice announced to his partner. “We need to drive round to door 12. There will be someone there to meet us,” he said, starting the engine.
The van lurched forward and seemed to turn a couple of corners and then slowed to a stop. Anne heard one door open. “Stay here,” the driver said. He got out, and Anne could hear footsteps heading away from them. And then nothing.
The man in the front snorted and cleared his throat.
Gross, Anne thought to herself. She quickly put her sentiment aside and returned to trying to hear what was going on.
Eventually the footsteps returned with another set. The front door opened again, and there was some muttering, an exchange, and the second man got out of the van too.
Moments later the back door opened and Anne felt cold air rush in around her. She looked around, trying to see who her captors were. They were human in shape and size, but she couldn’t see their faces. Not that it mattered. She just needed to know roughly where their eyes were to gouge them out. That was scenario number five in her hundred different plans.
They were too far away to strike right away, but that was about to change. She waited, straining her eyes to see. They could tell she was awake.
“A’right,” said a new voice. “Bring her in,” he instructed.
Then there were hands on her ankles as she was abruptly dragged from the van. She lashed out, trying to kick with her bound legs. She tried to punch but the men were far too big and strong for her to be any match.
She tried to scream through her gagged mouth. The cloth was wet from her own saliva and was pulling at the sides of her mouth and giving her a headache. They managed to get her to her feet and one held her by one arm, bruising her brutally as he held her still. She continued to struggle, willing herself to get away to safety.
It wasn’t going to happen.
“Knock it off, kid,” the other voice told her. “There’s nowhere to go. Don’t make this harder for any of us.”
Somehow the voice was soothing - even though it was the same voice that had been talking about their payout for delivering her on the journey here.
Still, she took his words at face value. There probably was no escaping them right now, and as long as there was time, she could be smart about getting away. If she had time on her side she might be able to focus and use her abilities. But she needed to be calm and collected.
She stood up straight, her legs unbound and her feet now on the tarmac. After displaying that she was cooperating, she tugged again at her upper arm, and straightened herself out some more. The kidnappers took the hint and started treating her a little more gently as they led her away from the van and towards a darkened building.
Her arm ached where they had gripped her, though.
Anne looked around as best she could. The guards all wore balaclavas. That’s a good sign, she thought. At least they were hiding their faces. But they weren’t concerned about her seeing where she was.
A quick scan of her surroundings revealed that she was near a set of buildings on an airfield. Looking up she realized that actually they weren’t all buildings. They were actually ships.
Very big ships.
The one they were heading towards was docked at some kind of security office, which they led her through, frisked her, scanned her with a full body scanner, and then allowed her to pass.
One more guard from the ship showed up. This guy was Estarian and seemed to be in charge. “Okay,” he said to her kidnappers. “We’ve got it from here.”
The other ship’s guard nudged her forward and into a walkway to the ship. The other two started asking questions about their money.
“I dunno anything about that,” the human guard told them. “You’ll need to speak to the boss. Next cabin over.”
Anne heard them muttering and saw them turn to leave the same way they had just brought her in. She noticed the two guards that now had her in custody relaxed as the cabin door closed behind them. Clearly, they had been expecting trouble.
“Okay. Let’s move,” one told her. He was dressed in a ship’s uniform and carried a rifle as well as a handgun strapped to his thigh. The other just had two handguns. Not that it mattered. They didn’t need guns to convince her she was overpowered.
The pair walked her through the gangway onto the ship and then down several corridors. Anne paid attention to the route they took, noting the twists and turns.
Glancing around she could see there were vents and air ducts. She strained to hear if they were active. By the time they took her through into a cargo holding area she had concluded that not all the life support systems were active yet. Just the minimum, for a skeleton prep-crew. She filed that intel away, and noticed covered-up pieces of machinery as they led her across a yellow insulated floor to an office meeting room, or what was probably an operations room at some point.
“In here,” one of the guards said as he shoved her gently into the glass walled meeting area. He tapped on the glass. “Sound proof,” he told her. “So save your breath.”
His manner was matter-of-fact, like he knew the drill. Like this wasn’t unfamiliar to them — having a guest who wasn’t there of her own free will.
Anne stepped back a few paces and allowed them to close the door. She studied them carefully as they set the key code and then headed back out of the unit.
As soon as they were gone she tried to open the door, moving from the handle to the key pad on her side of the door. She unclipped the panel.
Nothing. All the electronics were on the other side. The wires that fed through went through a tiny hole. She reclipped the panel and stepped backwards.
Despondent, she turned around to review the room. It was glass on three sides, with the wall of the ship on the fourth. She put her hand on it. Metal, with coats of insulation and paint. She wasn’t getting through that - powers or no powers.
Her eyes lifted up to the ceiling. An air vent. A large air vent. One big enough for her to get through, if she could get up there.
The room was laid out like a boardroom, with a table made up of segments. She walked to the far segment and moved the next one out of the way so she could rearrange the end one directly beneath the vent.
She checked the ceiling for cameras. Nothing.
She listened carefully for any guards coming. All was quiet but for the gentle humming of the ship.
She quickly scrambled up onto the desk and started fiddling with the vent, trying to get the cover off. The bolts were stiff, and her fingers weren’t strong enough or hard enough to turn them. After a few minutes of trying she gave up.
Her neck hurt from straining and now her f
ingers were mangled. She needed another way out. Or she needed to settle herself down enough to use all this damn power she supposedly had.
Aibek Moon, Orn System
Beno’or, seated in the cockpit, watched the ship’s monitors as Arlene and Giles made their way down the steps and onto the rather sandy surface of the planet they had landed on.
He wondered how he could be the most help. “So Scamp?” he started, trying to form a rapport. “I’m Beno’or. Is there anything I can do to help make sure my friends stay safe?”
Scamp thought for a moment, before appearing as a visual representation of a youngish human male on the screen to the left of Beno’or’s immediate console. “You could talk them out of doing this mission. That would increase their odds of safety by several hundred percent.”
Beno’or nodded, then sighed wearily. “Yes. Yes. I expect that is entirely accurate,” he agreed. “Well, just let me know as this ground mission progresses. I have some tactical experience in the Zhyn military. Mostly controlling the generals and stopping them from destroying people. But it’s experience nonetheless,” he shared.
Scamp suddenly seemed interested. “That sounds fascinating. Tell me more about what you did. I think it might help me evolve my negotiation and tactical heuristics for future conflicts,” he explained.
The old Justicar started telling Scamp about the bad old, good old days before he ended up in the Empire’s ruling court.
***
Giles and Arlene trudged across the rock in half atmosphere with their helmets securely fastened to their atmosuits.
“I can’t remember the last time I actually needed to create a seal on this jacket,” Arlene complained as she fidgeted against having it zipped up all the way.
“Tell me about it,” Giles gruffed over their communication implants. I had this suit jacket made to simulate that old-fashioned stuff they used to wear on earth. Had it commissioned specially so it would pass federation regulation for travel on light personnel ships even. Never thought I’d actually have to use it with a breathable helmet.”
Giles Kurns_Rogue Operator Page 10
