by James Palmer
Those that were locked, he forced open if he was able. Unfortunately, he found no trace of Lt. Jeffries in any of them. All of the rooms were either empty or scarcely stocked. There was no place to hide in any of them.
“Damn,” he cursed. “Where is he?”
Gathering his strength, he pushed onward, never once letting himself succumb to the dreadful idea forming in his brain. He refused to believe that Melvin Jeffries was dead. The admiral continued down the long, empty corridor. Searching for his newfound friend and fellow officer, he was determined to find him.
And nothing is going to stand in my way, he thought, anger tightening his muscles. With each new door he approached hope soared, only to be dashed when he stepped inside. His anger grew with each failure. When he found the people behind the abductions he would make them pay. He succumbed to the anger, let it strengthen him. He allowed himself a fearsome smile, grateful that the old fighting spirit had not deserted him.
“Hold on, Jeffries,” he whispered.
“Just hold on.”
The door opened with a hiss.
Marshal Maxwell Vortex walked onto the bridge of the Bounty’s Pride with his usual quick stride. Following a step behind were two of his officers; Deputy Allison Grady, his second in command, and his daughter, communication wizard Natalie Vortex. This had been their second meeting in the last hour. They each took up respective positions on the bridge. The marshal sat center seat while Grady stood by the tactical station, observing the officer on duty there. Natalie returned to communications where she worked feverishly at her control panel.
On a gesture from the marshal, Natalie opened a comm channel to all of the ships in the fleet. “You’re on, Marshal,” she said, relaying the transmission.
“Thanks, Nat.” Standing, the marshal straightened his uniform jacket. A few seconds of awkward silence he addressed those under his command.
“This is Marshal Vortex. I’m afraid there has been a slight change in plans.” The news elicited a few gasps of astonishment from the Bounty’s Pride’s bridge crew. The marshal assumed such was the case on the other ships as well.
“As of this moment, we are under Condition One Alert.”
“Setting Condition One, aye,” Grady reported from tactical.
“Red Alert! All ships to battle condition.”
A klaxon sounded, as the ship’s alert stations activated.
“All snub-fighters prepare for immediate launch.”
Grady moved to the bridge elevator, giving a nod to her commander before she stepped into the lift.
“Our window of opportunity has closed,” the marshal continued, casually taking his seat as if he had not just informed the fleet that they were going to war.
Silence once again filled the bridge as the crew went about their assignments. They were here in the vastness of space for one reason, to protect that space and those citizens that inhabit it. Each ship, each captain, each crew, all awaiting the next order from their fleet commander.
He did not disappoint.
“Battle stations.”
Chapter 38
35
Alliance Starship Pegasus
“Lieutenant Allen!”
The crewman manning the science station shouted the lieutenant’s name so abruptly that he was startled. Jamming a finger at the control panel on his communication station, the main screen erupted with a flurry of blurred images, only to be replaced by an image the bridge crew had been waiting for what seemed an eternity to see.
“Mr. Allen, report.”
“Captain Harmon,” he said, a thrill rising in his throat. She and her rescue team appeared in one piece, but he asked if they were all right anyway.
The captain nodded an affirmative.
“Status report.” Knowing their time was short, both officers kept things simple and efficient.
“The incoming vessels have not diverted course and we are still no closer to restarting the Pegasus’ main engines.” Lt. Allen delivered his report, noting the irritation building behind his captain’s eyes. She had expected the chief engineer, Harry Thomas, to have, at the very least, repaired and restarted the main engines.
Truth be told, Lt. Allen had been a little confused by the inability to get the ship back online as well. Something was very wrong on Pegasus, but he could not figure out what it was on his own. If he were given to conspiratorial thinking he would have thought sabotage, but surely such a thing was impossible on an Alliance ship. Wasn’t it? Until he had more information, however, he would keep those types of thoughts to himself.
“Moon’s gravity has begun to exert some pull on us,” he continued, his expression relaying the general consensus that there was no way to stop it.
“How bad is it?” she asked, fearing his answer.
Lt. Allen pursed his lips. “Not good. I don’t know what else to do, Captain.”
“Nor do I, Mr. Allen.” She motioned to the Space Lab survivors standing a few paces behind her. “We’re heading back to the shuttle now. I’ll try to get us back to the Pegasus as soon as possible. Just hold down the fort a little longer. You’re doing a great job. Don’t worry.”
“Very good, Captain. Any orders?” he asked, out of habit more than anything else and regretted the question the second it left his mouth.
“Yeah,” she added. “Don’t crash my ship. Harmon out.”
The screen blanked out.
“Don’t crash my ship,” he muttered, repeating her words.
“What the hell kind of order is that?” he asked.
No one answered.
Don’t crash my ship.
“Unbelievable.”
Chapter 39
36
Space Lab Science Station
Severing the communication’s pinpoint relay aboard Space Lab, Captain Virginia Harmon immediately herded the station’s survivors and her rescue team out of the Operations Center.
“We’ve got to get back to the shuttle. Dr. Morgan?” she looked to the station’s chief administrator, being held aloft by Dr. Silver and Lt. Vandrell.
“Yes,” she answered weakly.
“Doctor, what’s the most expedient way to get back to our shuttle? I don’t think all of us can make it back through the tunnels the way we came in.”
“I don’t know. The only way I can think of is to use the corridors and the stairs.” The chief answered.
“Or the elevators.” Ensign Bailey pointed toward the one nearest their position, roughly twenty feet away. “How about that one?” he asked.
“Probably not a wise idea. If there are any more of those damned robot’s aboard, they could come after us while we’re in the elevator. It’s a box. One we wouldn’t walk out of.”
The ensign pondered that, relenting to her wisdom. “I see your point,” he said.
“Good. How far to the nearest set of stairwells, Dr. Morgan?” Harmon asked, a plan already starting to formulate. One that hopefully worked as well in reality as it did in theory.
“Off to the right about fifty feet is a blue door. That’s the stairs.” It is not Dr. Morgan who answered, but her colleague, Dr. Silver. He pointed in the aforementioned direction, never releasing his hold on his injured friend. “We should probably hurry, Captain. Cynthia doesn’t look too good and I would like to have one of your hot-shot military MD’s to give her the once over.”
“I agree. What do you say we get the hell out of here, huh?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
The captain took point, the others falling into step behind her. As quickly as they were able to travel with the injured chief, the small group hurried down the damaged corridor toward the stairwell.
Upon reaching the elevator, the captain stopped, motioning for the others to move on ahead. Staring at the door for the briefest of seconds, she depressed the sensor that summoned the elevator.
“What are you doing,” Silver asked.
“Testing a theory.”
“We don’t have time for t
his.”
“I know. Keep moving.”
“I am not leaving you here,” Silver said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you. Walsh?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Take point. Get these people to the shuttle and prep for launch.”
Walsh nodded, moving the survivors into the stairwell.
“You too, Doctor,” Harmon added before Silver could protest. Surprisingly, he moved on without much of a fight, which saddened her somewhat. She had come to enjoy their verbal sparring.
After what seemed like an eternity, the low hum of the elevator signaled the car’s approach. The door opened with a soft chime. Harmon tensed, ready for whatever horror was waiting inside the elevator car.
It was empty.
Inside, she pressed several buttons, creating a path that would take the car to the farthest part of the station she could, far away from their destination. If there were any surviving A.L.’s still on board, then she hoped this plan of hers sent them off on a wild goose chase.
“Let’s just hope they know the rules of this little game or we’re all dead,” she whispered as she stepped out of the elevator, releasing the door latch, allowing the elevator’s twin doors to slowly cycle closed. Within seconds, the elevator once again moved toward its destination, one far away from the captain and her charges.
With a smile and a mental pat on the back for her ingenuity, Captain Harmon bolted for the stairwell to catch up with the others. Hopefully her little plan had bought them a respite from the dangers on board this station. Even if only for a moment.
That she had no control over the danger approaching the station made her shudder with fear.
If only I had more information, she wished.
If only…
37
Alliance Starship Ulysis
“Jeffries!”
Hearing his name called made Melvin Jeffries feel safe. He was being rescued at last. At least that was his hope. He recognized the voice calling out to him. It’s the admiral! What is his name again? Why was it so hard to think? Why was it so hard to remember?
“McKeen? He whispered hoarsely. Yes, that’s it! Admiral McKeen.
A flash of pain filled his view as his assailant once again planted her fist into the side of his head, sending daggers of pain and light pulsing through his brain. Where did she come from? he asked himself, his memories dulled by the constant abuse perpetrated since his abduction combined with the fear of his death by these people whom he did not even know.
Another blow smashed across his face.
Then another.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. At least he thought that was what he said. It was so hard to be certain of anything but the pounding in his head. “Who are you anyway, lady?”
Another backhanded blow lashed out, catching him across the face. He felt the warmth of his own blood trickle down his chin. He tried to lift his head again, but the strain was too great. Only the ropes fastening him to the wall of his prison keep him from toppling over. His head bobbed lifelessly, but an inner strength pressed him forward.
“Bitch!” he said, spitting the word at her, with no effect that he can recognize.
“Do you wish to die, Mr. Jeffries?” Her voice was calm, like a mother’s, caring for a child after a horrible nightmare. Only, in this instance, this mother was the source of the nightmare. Nothing inside Jeffries brain could connect the image of the woman before him to the vile voice that flowed from her. They could not -should not- belong to the same person. His brain could not begin wrapping itself around the notion. It was as if a recording of a loving woman had been dubbed over the original’s to hide her true evil.
Luckily, Jeffries wasn’t buying it.
He saw the fire in her eye, recognized the look of an animal about to devour its helpless prey.
However, Melvin Jeffries did not feel helpless today, despite every fiber of his being telling him otherwise.
“I really do not wish to hurt you, Mr. Jeffries. Truly, I do not.” Her voice flowed around him, threatening to engulf him in its intoxicating sweetness. “You do believe me, do you not, Mr. Jeffries?” she asked.
It would be so easy to let go, to be washed by her voice.
No. Never surrender. Never give up.
He looked up at her, a monumental effort on his part as his head felt as if it weighed slightly less than a small moon. He stared at her, almost through her.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it, lady,” he finally managed with enough contempt in his cracking voice.
Apparently she received the message loud and clear and he braced himself for another impact, another assault. He waited, but the attack did not come as expected. Slowly, ever slowly, he opened his eyes.
Then, his abductor did the one thing that he never would have expected. She let loose a long, hard laugh. “How’s that for funny?” she asked with disdain.
“I thought it was pretty damned hilarious myself.”
The voice did not belong to Lt. Melvin Jeffries.
Turning on instinct, her hands locking into a defensive position, she coiled to attack the new arrival. She was, however, unable to hide the look of pure shock at the owner of the voice. Now this is a surprise.
“You?” she screamed, her tempered voice cracking, betraying the fear she must have been feeling. Outrage churned inside her, threatening to overflow.
“Sucks don’t it?” the man asked.
She stared daggers through the heart of the new arrival. She had known from the start that he would come for her eventually, but not this early. Not this soon. She had read his profile. Nothing in it suggested that he clever enough to discover the plan on his own.
“How did you find me?” she asked, her voice smooth as silk. The selfsame voice that Lt. Jeffries had heard threaten his life only moments earlier.
“Captain Andrews,” she said, his name poison on her lips as if he were the devil himself instead of a starship captain.
“Just lucky I guess.” The captain of the Ulysis stood smug and tall against the doorframe of the small room that had become hell for Lt. Jeffries, his prison. The captain was clad in his standard issue Alliance uniform. And he was armed.
Jeffries’ tormentor stared at the captain, sizing up the threat he presented.
“Dumb luck, I’d say.” Her words, while silky smooth, spit bitter venom at her adversary, but he didn’t waver under the verbal assault. Not that she had really expected him to. The man had a well-earned reputation after all.
He walked into the room, slowly, methodically, each step precise. “Release my officer and then tell me where you’re holding Admiral McKeen.”
“Or?”
Continuing with slow, methodical steps, Captain William Andrews moved closer to the mysterious woman, who in turn took a step backward. Her name was unknown to Andrews. He was not even sure how she came to be aboard his ship, but he recognized her from nomad City. He was certain he had seen her before. His eyes fixed on hers, connecting on a level beyond the physical.
No words were spoken for what seemed to Lt. Jeffries like eons.
The captain broke the silence, not with diplomacy as one might expect, but with intimidation. “Don’t make me kill you,” he said sharply. “There has been too much death already. Chief Thorne, the staff of Space Lab, oh yes, I know about all of that.
She grimaced at the words, knowing they had been spoken to him earlier.
I also know what you and your cohorts are planning.” His eyes never moved from hers, their gazes transfixed on one another.
His threat was readily evident. He would kill her if he had to, of that Lt. Jeffries was certain.
Her eyes widened as she came to the same conclusion. “You know nothing, Captain. You are a tired old, washed up loser that couldn’t cut it as a marshal.” Her verbal assault struck like a physical blow, but he seemed unshaken by her words.
Surprisingly, he allowed a crooked smile, almost as if he had only
just caught the punch line of a joke. “Loser?” he repeated, every syllable dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t even want to get in a pissing contest with me, sister. You’re way out of your league.”
With speed he had not thought the woman capable of, Jeffries watched as his tormentor launched herself at the captain. Fueled by rage, her plans unraveling around her, all thought departed, allowing her dark passions in control of her actions. In the final analysis, she never stood a chance.
The captain put her down easily. Taking a small knife from his jacket pocket, he cut the battered pilot from his perch. “You okay?” Andrews asked as he helped Jeffries easily to the deck.
“I’ll live,” he said, his voice raspy and parched.
“Good.” The captain helped him to a sitting position as gently as possible. “Where’s the admiral?” he asked. “Where’s McKeen?”
Shaking his head, Lt. Jeffries answered that he did not know, recounting for the captain the details of his run in with his abductors and the admiral just outside of Nomad City. They had somehow bypassed ship’s security and made it into a restricted area where they assaulted Admiral McKeen.
Andrews listened intently, drinking in every word, every detail until the final piece of evidence he needed fell into place. There was a traitor aboard the Ulysis. A member of the Earth Liberation League was part of his crew. This confirmation of his greatest fear cut through him like a dull knife.
“Damn,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the constant hum of the engines as they reverberate throughout the ship. “Come on, Jeffries. Let’s get you out of here,” he said while helping the lieutenant to his feet, then moved swiftly out of the makeshift prison into the long hallway. The captain slapped his wrist comm-link as they move forward.
“Commander Hall,” he called. “Did you catch all of that?”
Andrea Hall had been monitoring the exchange from the bridge via the one-way open channel Andrews had established before entering the room.
