by Jake Bible
The next corridor, the next corridor, the next, and the next. The base became a blur, a hurried maze of violence and blood. Z’s squad cut down Syndicate thugs like they were chopping weeds from the wildflower meadows of Planet C. While the squad killed and killed, more BooshGon squads were transported onto the base until a total of ten were deployed, putting the number of BooshGon personnel at over one hundred.
“I want progress reports,” Z ordered. “Every five minutes, I want the status of your squads and the status of the hunt.”
She received crisp, firm acknowledgements between the sounds of plasma rifle fire. Z wondered to herself why the Fleet hadn’t just hired BooshGon towards the end of the War. There wouldn’t have been a need for the Treaty with the Skrang Alliance. Then she remembered the Salvage Merc Corps interference and growled at the thought of the meddling organization and their neutral stance. Neutral made her sick.
Yes, BooshGon could be hired by anyone, even the Skrangs, but her company was hardly neutral. They had an agenda, clear as day, if the galaxy cared to take a careful study of their operations.
“Where are we?” Tnort asked one of the troopers.
The man brought up a holo on his wrist and spun it slightly then pointed. “We are one level above the interrogation wing,” the trooper said. “Detention wing is straight ahead and up three levels.”
“Which way? Up or down?” Tnort asked Z.
“Down,” Z said.
“But the kid could easily be in the detention wing,” Tnort said. His tone was not argumentative, just suggestive.
“I know, but if I was the Thin Man then I’d be torturing the fo out of the kid to get him to spill everything he knows,” Z said.
“The kid probably doesn’t know what he knows,” Tnort said.
“Doesn’t mean some good old fashioned violent motivation won’t jog some of that data loose,” Z replied.
“Are we really going to hand the kid over to the councilman?” Tnort asked.
“We are,” Z said, “and we will watch the chits get transferred to the BooshGon accounts. Then we kill the pompous gumphole and take the kid for our own ends.”
“Nice,” Tnort said. “Dastardly, but nice.”
“Dastardly?” Z asked, shaking her head. “Leforians are foed up.”
“But we’re fun to have around,” Tnort said. He sent a stream of plasma bolts at the latest wave of Syndicate thugs. Three thugs dropped, their bodies missing significant portions of their anatomy. “And we are excellent shots.”
“That you are,” Z said. “Push on, squad! We’re moving down a level to the interrogation wing!”
The squad pushed forward, shredding the thugs that came at them, until they reached a lift.
“Not the best idea,” Tnort said.
“You’re right,” Z agreed. “Gut it.”
“Consider it done, boss lady,” Tnort said as the lift doors opened.
He killed the three thugs that were standing inside, tossed in an ion grenade, reached in to the control panel, set the lift to go up, then ducked back and smiled his Leforian smile as the doors slid closed. He counted down the time in a casual whisper then smiled wider when the distinct thwump of the ion grenade was heard.
“Crack it and toss in lines,” Tnort ordered.
Troops jimmied the lift doors apart, waving their hands at the acrid smoke that came pouring out off the lift shaft, then began securing and throwing in repelling lines. The troops started clipping the lines to their body armor then jumped into the shaft two at a time, leaving Z and Tnort last. More troops arrived from another squad and Tnort waved them into the shaft.
“You’re sure the interrogation wing is where we need to go?” Tnort asked again when the last trooper was in.
“Too late now,” Z said and jumped.
“I guess it is,” Tnort said and followed.
They reached the rest of the squad, who had stopped in place by the lower set of lift doors. Z gave a nod and two troopers levered the lift doors open. Their bodies were shredded instantly and the rest of the squad swung their lines to each side of the doors, taking cover in the small space on either side of the shaft.
“Androids!” Tnort yelled.
“You think?” Z yelled back. “Ion grenades! NOW!”
With one hand gripping their lines and the other grabbing a grenade from their belts, the squad activated and tossed in ion grenade after ion grenade. More than half were blasted apart by the plasma fire coming from the base’s androids, but only half were really needed.
The explosions were deafening and most of the squad ducked their heads low, trying to muffle the excruciating noise.
Z held up a hand and they waited. More smoke filled the lift shaft, but no one made a sound, all stifling coughs into the crooks of their elbows. Once several silent seconds passed, Z gave the signal to move. The squad swung themselves out of the shaft and into the corridor. Nine were left, including Z and Tnort.
The corridor was a blackened mess of pock marks and shattered androids. Synthetic fluid bubbled everywhere and the squad walked carefully as they moved down the corridor, mindful of each and every step.
“You three move down to the end,” Z ordered. “Cover that doorway. The rest are on me as we take this wing, door by stinking door.”
“Gonna be more androids,” Tnort said.
“I know,” Z said. “But we’re ready.”
“We have reached the detention wing,” a trooper from one of the other squads called over the com.
“And?” Z asked.
“Just an Urvein and some Slinghasp,” the trooper replied.
“Slinghasp?” Z asked and looked at Tnort. “Open that cell and take him. That has to be Sha Morgoal.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the trooper replied. “And the Urvein?”
“Could be the captured member of Drop Team Zero,” Tnort said. “Might be worth some chits to the Fleet. Maybe sow some good will?”
“I could give a fo about good will, but it wouldn’t hurt,” Z said. “Might make things easier when we get back home, too. Hand off a Drop Team Marine and certain questions may not get asked.” She cleared her throat. The smoke was proving to be quite harsh on her Skrang lungs. “Take the Urvein, but be careful. If it is part of Zero then it won’t go easily. Make sure you present yourself as allies. Say you were hired to come get it and Sha Morgoal.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the trooper replied. “I’ll report as soon as we have the prisoners in our custody.”
“Do that,” Z said then looked at her squad. “This door. Get it the fo open now!”
Thirty-Six
“Get these cells open!” the squad leader yelled as he pointed at the detention cells that held Sha Morgoal and Mug. “I want these prisoners out and in our custody within the minute!”
Squad troopers rushed to the cell controls and started cutting with laser torches. No need to worry about codes or hacking the panels when a good laser would just sever the circuits. It took less than the ordered minute to get the cells open.
“Name!” the squad leader yelled as he moved in with his plasma rifle up and pointed at Sha Morgoal. “I said name!”
“Sha Morgoal, worm,” Sha Morgoal replied. “And you will do well to change your tone.”
“You would do well to realize that I have your life in my hands, Slinghasp,” the squad leader replied. “So cut the holier than thou attitude and move your ass.”
“You will pay for that disrespect,” Sha Morgoal said. “I have powerful friends.”
“And none of them are here right now,” the squad leader said. He nodded at one of the troopers. “Cuff him.”
“You must be joking!” Sha Morgoal spat. “I will not be cuffed like some low-life thief!”
“If you want us to get you out of this cell then yes, you will,” the squad leader said and nodded at the trooper again. “Cuff the son of a gump!”
The trooper moved in and slapped a set of gravity cuffs around Sha Morgoal’s wrists. Instantly,
the Slinghasp’s arms dropped to his waist and he grunted under the weight.
“They are too heavy,” Sha Morgoal said. “Lighten them or I will not be able to keep up.”
“Whatever,” the squad leader replied and nodded at the trooper again.
The trooper adjusted the cuffs and Sha Morgoal sighed with relief.
“There. A little courtesy was not so hard, was it?” he grumbled.
“Come on,” the squad leader said and grabbed the Slinghasp by the arm, yanking him free of the cell.
“Sir, we have a problem,” a trooper said as he stood in front of Mug’s cell. “This beam is holding the Urvein in place. It’s not part of the cell controls.”
“Then leave it,” the squad leader said.
“But, sir, our orders were to bring the Urvein with us,” the trooper said.
“And we can’t do that, so I am making the call to leave it,” the squad leader barked.
“I am not an it,” Mug said, her voice a threatening rumble that shook the cell walls.
Every eye turned to look at her.
“If you have orders to bring me then there’s probably a good reason,” Mug continued. “The controls to the beam are inside the cell. On the wall to my right.”
The trooper looked at the squad leader and waited.
“Do it,” the squad leader said. “But make it fast!” There was the far-off sound of explosions from deeper in the base. “You hear that? No foing time to waste!”
The trooper hurried into the cell and moved to the wall. He hunted for a seam that would reveal a hidden control panel, but found nothing.
“Sir, there are no controls here,” the trooper said.
“Nope, there ain’t,” Mug said and with a roar that made most of the squad jump back several paces, Mug tore her right arm free of the beam and grabbed the trooper by the neck. That neck snapped and she caught the trooper’s rifle before it could fall to the floor with his body.
“Kill it!” the squad leader yelled.
Those were his last words.
Mug opened fire, her arm with the rifle still outside the beam, sweeping left to right, right to left. She took out the squad leader then the troopers directly behind him. Four troopers were left and they dove for cover, spreading out to either side of the cell door. Sha Morgoal just stood in the space outside the cells, his eyes wide with fear and surprise, and stared at Mug.
“Get down, dumbass,” Mug said and Sha Morgoal dropped to the floor.
It was a struggle for Mug to take aim at the ceiling, but she managed the angle and fired until the rifle powered down. The beam sputtered, sputtered, and died. She jerked forward, her bulk once again under her control.
Without hesitating, Mug burst from the cell and dove to the left. She rolled right on top of two troopers, pinning them to the floor. Mug wrested free a plasma rifle and fired across the cell’s doorway at the two troopers on that side. One screamed as his chest was obliterated. The other jumped out of the way of the bolts and returned fire.
Mug rolled again, putting one of the troopers between her and the plasma bolts. The trooper screamed then went silent as the friendly fire impacted with his body armor. Smoke sizzled up from the holes in his torso.
Mug didn’t bother returning fire, she just shot through the trooper’s corpse. The body smashed into the firing trooper and sent him tumbling on top of Sha Morgoal. The Slinghasp immediately jerked his hands up and around the man’s head, using the cuffs to choke the life out of the trooper.
There was a muffled shout beneath Mug and she jammed a massive elbow down as hard as she could. The distinct crunch of bone echoed in the space around the cells and the muffled shout turned to silence. Mug pushed up onto her feet and staggered over to Sha Morgoal and the choking trooper.
“Here, let me,” Mug said. She reached down and snapped the trooper’s neck with a pinch of her hairy fingers. “Now, get up. We’re getting off this base.”
Mug lifted the Slinghasp to his feet as if he weighed only as much as a child. Sha Morgoal began to protest, but Mug put a claw to his lips and shook her head.
“No talking,” Mug said.
“But can I at least have these blasted cuffs taken off?” Sha Morgoal asked.
“Are you foing me, mister?” Mug asked. “Have you plum forgotten that it was my Team that captured you in the first place? There is no way I am taking those cuffs off. Now, shut the fo up or I’ll rip your snake tongue from your mouth and cram it up your butt. Got it?”
Sha Morgoal started to respond, but Mug raised an eyebrow and the Slinghasp just nodded.
“Good,” Mug said. “Now, walk.”
Mug shoved Sha Morgoal towards the blasted open doors to that part of the detention wing. He stumbled slightly, but kept his footing and Mug followed closely behind, picking up two plasma rifles on her way past the dead troopers.
Once out in the corridor, Mug looked left then right.
“Fo,” she said. “Which way is the exit? I was out of it when they brought me in.”
Sha Morgoal snorted.
Mug rolled her eyes. “Okay, you can talk,” she said. “Which way?”
Sha Morgoal’s snake lips stayed tightly closed as he looked over his shoulder and smirked up at Mug.
She grabbed him by his wrists and lifted him high into the air so they were eye to eye. Sha Morgoal couldn’t help but cry out from the pain generated in his shoulders.
“That way! That way!” he hissed as he nodded to the right. “Please! Let me down!”
“I like how you say please,” Mug said and dropped the Slinghasp. “To the right? You sure?”
“Yes, yes,” Sha Morgoal gasped. “That way.”
“Okey doke,” Mug said. “You lead. I’ll cover you from behind.”
Sha Morgoal glared, but didn’t argue as he took a deep breath and staggered his way down the corridor to the door at the far end.
Thirty-Seven
Kinchminch huddled in the corner of the interrogation bay, one of his arms turned at an absurd angle. He had tried to cradle the arm, but received such a vicious kick to the head that his eyes sort of swam in their sockets. So he sat there, watching the Thin Man rage and rage, and hoped he had been forgotten.
He hadn’t.
“You failed me!” the Thin Man roared. It was a thready roar, high and scrappy. Sounded more like heavy rain bubbling up from a drain pipe that had overflowed. “You failed me, Kinchminch! You stupid, stupid Ferg! You are a failure! Nothing but a failure! If you think my father abhors failure, wait until I show you how much it disgusts me!”
Kinchminch literally tried to squeeze himself through the seams in the metal wall plates that his back rested against. He had heard of Fergs being able to escape deadly danger by making themselves incredibly small. Some had been known to slid right under doors. So he tried to escape through the wall.
He failed.
“What the bloody fo are you doing?” the Thin Man shouted as he crossed the space between them in only three strides. He grabbed the Ferg up and shook him over and over. “What are you trying to do? Are you trying to leave this bay? Through the wall? THROUGH THE WALL?”
Kinchminch squeaked and wet himself. His mouth flapped open and closed, open and closed, until the Thin Man squeezed his lips together with narrow, pointy fingers.
“Oh, for fo’s sake, stop that,” the Thin Man said and threw Kinchminch back to the floor. He kicked him hard in the ribs then stomped on one of the Ferg’s hands, crushing it under his boot. Kinchminch cried out and wet himself again. “Disgusting. Utterly disgusting.”
The Thin Man regarded the Ferg for a second then turned and strode back to where the corpse of Dylan Keer was still strapped down. He smacked the boy’s cheek twice then sighed, his entire stick-skinny body deflating.
“This was it, Kinchminch,” the Thin Man said without turning to address the Ferg directly. “All of my dreams of taking the Syndicate in a new direction, making it an organization that could rival the Galactic F
leet and the Skrang Alliance combined. Not even the Salvage Merc Corps would be able to stand against me.”
He traced a fingertip along the dead boy’s jaw, flicking at the chin once, twice, three times before he withdrew his hand and clasped both of them behind his back.
“All I needed was the data, Kinchminch, just the data,” the Thin Man said. “It held everything. Every bank account, every vault code, every single asset my family has cultivated over centuries of business. That data held names of councilmen, councilwomen, and councilbeings. It held Fleet officers’ names, Skrang officers’ names. It held contacts in the Edger movement and contacts in the press as well as the financial systems throughout the galaxy.”
He sighed heavily and took a step back from the dead boy. The Thin Man shook his head slowly back and forth.
“Are you hearing me, Kinchminch?” the Thin Man asked, finally turning back around to regard the terrified, and brutalized, Ferg. “Do you comprehend anything I am saying?”
“Yes, sir,” Kinchminch replied. “I know how important the data is to you.”
“Was, Kinchminch, was,” the Thin Man said.
Kinchminch started to speak, hesitated, started again, but kept his mouth closed.
“What?” the Thin Man asked. “Tell me, Kinchminch. You have something on your mind.”
“It is just that, well, there might still be a way to extract the data,” Kinchminch said.
“Oh, and how could that happen when the vessel holding the data has expired?” the Thin Man asked. “No brainwaves, no way to retrieve the data. I am not as technologically skilled as you, or even half the techs in this base, but I do know a thing or two about cerebral data retention and storage.”
“Of course you do, sir,” Kinchminch said. “It’s just that…”
“Out with it!” the Thin Man shouted. He raised his skinny arms and waved them around. “Do you not hear the klaxons? Do you not realize we have been invaded by an outside force that wants this data as well? Out with it, you worthless piece of crud!”
“I have a theory,” Kinchminch said. “It is only a theory, so I hesitate to even get your hopes up, sir.”
