by Trevor Wyatt
The Tyreesians on the other hand weren’t even involved in the war; in addition, any conflict that’s arisen between them and Terran Armada has been of their own doing—like that shit that went down in the Omarian system. Hard not to find fault in a race that looks for trouble.
I guess I could admire their resourcefulness; they will use almost any means in order to inflict damage on the enemy. And they network with other factions that want extreme separation of species and use that to their advantage.
Right now, as far as they know, I’m an opportunistic ex-Terran Armada agent with a grudge. I laugh again at the irony; they’re pissed that one of their own betrayed them while they might as well be holding up a sign that says: ‘Do you hate other species? Are you looking for a permanent solution to this problem—well then join us for lots of death and destruction!’
The fine print would read: ‘Just don’t expect us to save your ass if you get caught.’
Though admittedly, I understand making the brutal choice to cut a loss. It’s not like there are warm, fuzzy feelings. Every agent knows they are expendable. Thinking expendable makes me think of Zhang. I liked him; he was a good guy, and now he’s gone. He sacrificed himself because he couldn’t stand to let the innocents die, not when he could do something about it.
I think about how he railed against me for killing—but you can’t afford to care in this business. Not the business we’re in. If you do, you end up dead. Case in fucking point.
Except that I’ve decided to drag Captain Montgomery along for the ride. It’s not fair, and I’m taking a big risk bringing him along for both of us, but I’m hoping this big risk is going to equal a big reward. I like to play poker and when you bet against the house, the house usually wins.
The big question I have right now is am I betting on the house or against it? Captain Montgomery seems like he would be the house. Terran Armada certainly has enough clout, and now they have two of the three pieces needed to control matter transport. Now that is clearly stacking the deck. I’m stacking the deck, and in my custody I have the King.
So, does that make me the Queen, the Ace or the Joker? Of those three, I think I’m the Ace. As for the other suits, I’m pretty sure that the Tyreesians have got to be the Jokers. So is it gonna be ace high or ace low? I suddenly laugh a bit at that thought. I’m an Ace. I’m a one.
No One.
The next steps of the mission are going to be crucial for me if I want to get out of this alive and take Captain Montgomery with me. Once I’m on the ship, I’m going to need to do a lot of improvising.
As I walk with Captain Montgomery toward the teleporter, I see the crate of Predatory Mega Flora that was the original cargo. This stuff is such bad news. It’s a vicious carnivorous plant capable of “walking” to find a host. I shudder at the thought of what it would feel like to have one of those things spear you, suck out your innards all while you’re still alive.
Gross. I guess I better warn Captain Montgomery.
Ha. Warning your hostage. That again, sounds ironic.
“See that,” I say to him, motioning with the nozzle of my gun away from him and the crate of “Seyshallian fruit” which the Tyreesians, in their zeal for having the worst things that can kill in the universe—organic or not, decided to include.
“The Tyreesians can’t be faulted for blood-lust, but in the brains department, I’m not sure they’ve evolved past Earth cockroaches.” I see him almost smirk.
“This fruit they have on board next to the mass transporter—well, it’s not fruit you eat. It’s fruit that eats you.”
I see him stop a moment considering my words.
“What are the Tyreesians going to do with it?” He asks.
“Shit if I know and shit if I care, but all that fruit needs to germinate is a host. A nice warm host, someone like you, me or a ship full of Tyreesians. These guys don’t even have this cargo area set at a cooler temperature. Right now, all it would take is a low-heat signature, say by a ship’s A.I. powering up this teleporter remotely and that’d be enough of a change in the ambient temp to draw this fruit over.
“And if the fruit comes through the teleporter. Well…that’s a nightmare waiting to happen.”
As the hum of the teleporter alerts us to its activation, I do a quick run-down in my head of the plan once I’m on the ship. No matter how I look at it, the odds aren’t in my favor. Well, fuck the odds. Zhang was a good guy and that got him killed. I don’t plan on making that mistake. I put on my best poker face as we step upon the teleporter.
Let's do this.
Chapter 21
No One
I step off the teleporter, shoving Captain Montgomery in front of me. The Tyreesian commander is waiting with another Tyreesian who’s carrying a flat black case. Why do torturers always carry cases? I guess they like having their toys nearby.
Their really scary, creepy, cutty toys.
I’m delivering Captain Jeryl Montgomery, the guy responsible for sabotaging their last attempt to throw a wrench in galactic peace and prosperity, right into their hands.
“Excellent work, Ms. Grayson,” says the commander.
I nod.
“Welcome aboard, Captain Montgomery, if you will come with us.” I see the commander give him a wicked smile.
I watch Captain Montgomery start to walk with the commander and the torturer.
I know that if I want to get Captain Montgomery out of here alive, I can’t let him out of my sight.
“I’m coming, too,” I say, closing the distance.
“Your services are not required for the interrogation.”
The commander looks directly at me. I can tell my request has him confused and not in a good way. He’s wondering why the hell I’m interested in Montgomery’s welfare. I need to think fast.
“Oh, not after all the trouble I went through and all the bullshit the Terran Armada put me through—if you think for one minute I am going to miss the opportunity to see the famous Captain Montgomery suffer, you’re wrong. Besides, do you have any idea how valuable he is? I’m not letting that asset out of my sight.”
I see the Commander nod accepting my requests and my reasons for it.
“Very well, Ms. Grayson, you may attend the interrogation; however, leave your weapon here.”
I shrug, handing the rifle to one of the Tyreesians. Then I follow the interrogator as he leads Captain Montgomery out the door and down a hall.
We don’t walk far.
The Tyreesian sits Captain Montgomery in a chair, locking down his ankles and wrists.
And then he opens his black box and selects a long thin rod. Not good. I’m familiar with this tool—I’ve used it a few times.
But the part that bothers me the most is that the only time you bring out this ugly bit of tech is when you’re not planning on playing with your guest for too long—
which tells me that I’m going to have to watch closely or Captain Montgomery isn’t going to make it out alive.
He turns the tool on and I hear it power up. I realize that the chair Captain Montgomery is fastened in is made completely of metal. A perfect electrical conductor.
“Where is the defector that carries the secrets of our mass transport system?” asks the Tyreesian.
“I have no idea and it wouldn’t matter if I did. If we have her, then you’re not going to be able to get her back,” Captain Montgomery states.
A slight groan escapes from Captain Montgomery as the torturer touches the tip of the picana to manacle on his left wrist.
“You know where they have taken her,” he presses.
“Shangri-La.” Captain Montgomery says through gritted teeth.
“What are the coordinates of Shangri-La?” the Tyreesian asks, not understanding the cultural significance.
“In the system next to Disneyworld,” he replies again, referring to the long dead amusement park on Earth that received one of the first direct nuclear hits of the Third World War. I mean, these Tyreesians think
they have the market on brutality? We threw nuclear missiles at each other – at our own children, not less than 300 years ago.
The Tyreesian stands placing the picana to Captain Montgomery’s arm, holding it there until he starts to scream.
“Stop it! What the hell are you doing?” I exclaim.
The Tyreesian glares at me.
“If you don’t have the stomach for this, leave. You wanted to come, so shut up and let me do my job,” he finishes. Then, almost out of retaliation for my interruption, he presses the tip of the tool to Captain Montgomery’s other arm, once again holding it there until he’s satisfied with the level of screaming. He stops. Captain Montgomery is panting heavily.
“You know if you kill him, you’ll lose the most valuable bargaining chip you have now with the Terran Armada. They will do anything to get him back in one piece, so you need to make sure you can deliver him in one piece.”
I get another glare from the Tyreesian.
“Who cares about bargaining? We have everything we need,” he says to me.
I feel a jolt of panic, but I keep my voice steady.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“We don’t need anything from the Terran Armada except for its defeat. Until we annihilate them I cannot think of a more significant blow we can deliver than announcing to them that we have killed their war hero, the famous Captain Jeryl Montgomery. Not only did we kill him, but we made him suffer first.”
He smiles.
Shit, shit, shit. This is not going as planned. I need to think up something new.
“The only reason you have him is because of me,” I say.
“Really? And that changes what I am going to do to him how?”
I can tell I’m really getting under this guy’s skin.
Good.
Angry people don’t always think clearly. He’s getting irritated that a Terran is telling him what to do—especially a female Terran.
“Yes, because if you’re not going to use him to bargain, then I will.”
“How exactly is that going to happen? Do you think my commander will just let you walk out of here with him? You’re lucky that we are allowing you to continue breathing.”
Fuck.
The guy has a point. He laughs at the look of resignation on my face, then starts tapping on different parts of Captain Montgomery with the picana.
Each scream becomes a backbeat to my thoughts…
The defector is gone. She escaped.
Zhang is dead, but he completed his mission, just not the one the Tyreesian wanted him to do. For my part, I have one-half of the matter teleporter safely tucked away in the cargo hold we left behind that’s hopefully impounded by the Terran Armada.
Captain Montgomery is panting. The Tyreesian hasn’t asked him any questions for awhile now. It’s like what he said, there’s really no need for it. I was wrong when I thought their desire to use him to bargain would outweigh their desire for revenge.
The chance to hurt the man responsible for screwing up so much of their plans is too much temptation to resist.
If I don’t intervene, Captain Montgomery is never making it out of this ship.
I need to act quickly.
I have a sudden inspiration.
“Fine,” I huff, “but if you’re going to kill him and therefore deprive me of any benefits I might get, can I have some fun too?”
I deliver my most wicked grin.
“You ever used one of these before?” he says holding up the picana.
“Yes, as I matter of fact, I have,” I say walking closer to him. He appraises me anew; I think I see respect forming in his eyes.
“Here,” he says, “Just make sure you don’t finish him off too soon.”
I step up, taking the picana in one hand, careful where I place my fingers.
“Oh don’t worry about that,” I say holding the picana vertical to my body.
I take a deep breath. This isn’t the smartest thing I can do, but then again, the smartest thing isn’t always the right thing.
Oh well.
Hefting in my hand, I turn, smacking the Tyreesian full in the face with the rod. He goes back and down, hand coming up to his gushing nose.
“He’s not finished, but you sure as fuck are.”
I take this moment to get Captain Montgomery out of the chair. He’s hurting, but I pull him up.
“Can you stand?”
He nods, coughing, then straightens up as I step back.
I pick up the picana, walk over and yank the Tyreesian torturer to his feet.
“Now you’re the bargaining chip,” I say to him.
I turn to Captain Montgomery. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 22
Jeryl
I find myself once again confused by Ms. Grayson. She’s calm, cold and even ruthless, but that doesn’t entirely explain the reason she’s freed me…unless she’s going to make good on that threat to use me as a bargaining tool.
Right now I’m following her lead as we find our way back to the room with the teleporter. She has the picana inches away from the Tyreesian interrogator’s throat, just a bit below one ear. We’re making good time and before long we’re walking right back into the teleporter room. There are only two Tyreesian engineers in there now.
“Step away from the teleporter or this guy gets some electro-shock therapy,” says Ms. Grayson. Both Tyreesians look at her in horror.
“What are you doing?” demands one of them.
“I told you that Captain Montgomery was my asset and since rocks for brains here thinks its more fun to torture him to death, well, that’s not happening, not when I can get paid handsomely for delivering him safely back to the Terran Armada.”
Both Tyreesians begin yelling at the same time.
“—how can you?”
“You’ll die for this betrayal!”
“We won’t let you go!”
“Oh really,” says Ms. Grayson, as she casually presses the tip of the picana into the Tyreesian’s flesh. You can hear the tiniest buzz as it connects, and after what seemed like hours of torture—I can’t help but flinch a bit.
However, I also can’t help but take some delight in the torturer getting a taste of his own medicine.
The Tyressian begins to howl as the pain builds.
“Stop! Stop! We will let you leave.”
“Send us back through to the other matter transport. Once we—as in all of us—arrive safely, I’ll send him back,” says Ms. Grayson.
The Tyreesians look at one another and nods. The three of us squeeze on to the teleporter. I take a deep breath. Ms. Grayson is taking us on a crazy ride, but for some weird reason, I trust her.
I’d say I have bad taste in women, but Ashley is the proof that’s not the case. Besides, this isn’t romantic—though it is intimate.
I’ve had a chance to get close to her physically (can’t be helped when you’re literally being held against a person’s body and a part of me thinks maybe I’m figuring her out too.)
For one thing, I’m not buying the one-dimensional merc for hire bit. She’s more than that. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to her than meets the eye.
The question is: whose side is she on?
Logic says she’s on her side. Who isn’t?
She released me and took the Tyreesian as a hostage instead; however, that could just be self-serving. As much as the term “war hero” makes me nauseous, she’s not wrong; Terran Armada is going to bring its best men and women to rescue me.
And that means it’s a big bounty for whoever liberates me.
So, if that’s her end game, then making sure I get out alive makes sense.
But like the first time I met her in her holding cell, something about that doesn’t ring true. Again, it’s just a hunch, but I think I have good instincts. Well, at best she hasn’t killed me thus far.
So my gut’s right about that.
Now the bigger question is given that I’m Captain Jeryl Mont
gomery, am I going to sit here and let her make all the decisions?
No.
Anika Grayson is clever and dangerous, but bottom line is, as a leader and as a commander, I need to use those assets to my advantage.
Right now, the Terran Armada most likely has the defector and a half of the transport device.
I need to convince Anika Grayson a.k.a No One that we need to go after the bigger fish while we’re still close to the pond.
“Ms. Grayson—,”
“Don’t call me that,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me like I should know better.
“Fine,” I say. “No One, we have a chance to come back with more than just a Tyreesian interrogator.”
She looks at me guardedly.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean, having a defector in our possession is one thing.”
The Tyreesian interrogator growls, “That traitor will die!” earning him an elbow to the face from No One.
“The conversation doesn’t include Tyreesian shit-for-brains,” she snarls, then looks at me.
“You were saying?”
Her casual brutality never fails to disturb, but I continue.
“So, we have a defector and we have half of one of the transports.”
No One nods.
“What if we had all three pieces?”
She looks at me seriously considering what I’m saying, but then she shakes her head.
I look at No One.
“I’m talking about taking the ship.”
She furrows her brows and I can tell she’s thinking about it.
“That sounds noble,” she says. “But noble doesn’t get me paid.”
“It can,” I say, smiling. “As you said I’m worth a lot to the Terran Armada.”
“So maybe I just take you and shit-for-brains here as my collateral for some nice treatment, nice credits and a chance to walk away. Why should I work harder, risk more when I can already offer you to the highest bidder?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. But more importantly, you like to win. If we can get the Tyreesian ship, well, I’d call that a big win.”
