Boyd heard the footsteps on the corridors of the Fist. He counted a dozen or more. He climbed down from the command chair and turned to greet the approaching group.
Captain Poledri turned the end of the corridor first and came into the long corridor to the flight deck. He wore a dark expression that crumpled the scar over his eye. Behind him came Jemmy Noland and then behind them a group of six Faction troopers, all armed with pulse rifles. From their uniforms, Boyd could tell they were from Kitzov’s own company.
“Captain,” Boyd said brightly as Poledri marched up to him. “She’s all yours.”
Boyd saw the swift movement and knew danger. Poledri pulled something out of his jacket and began to raise it.
Boyd instinctively backed off, looking for cover from the weapon, but Poledri had moved in and moved fast.
The pulse from the pistol slammed into Boyd’s chest and sent him sprawling. The pulse rippled over his body, making his muscles quiver. His legs collapsed under him and he hit the deck hard.
His muscles wracked with pain, Boyd attempted to regain his feet. But his muscles would not respond. At least he knew he was alive. He saw a shape move toward him. His vision was blurred, and he couldn’t make out who it was until the smell hit him. It was unmistakably Noland.
He felt himself pulled up by the front of his jacket. He could just make out the contorted features of the quite ugly Noland. He was snarling in Boyd’s face, his teeth gripped in a snarl, practically frothing at the mouth.
“Kravin scroat,” Noland said.
Boyd felt the punch land on the side of his face, sending him sprawling back to the deck.
As he lay crumpled on the deck, he felt the blow to his abdomen. He realized it was from a boot, delivered hard, probably from Noland.
Blows rained in from all sides. Over the grunting and snarling of the troopers laying into him, he heard Thresh’s weak voice.
“What are you doing? He saved the ship. He saved me. Leave him or I’ll speak to Kitzov and give him all your names.”
“We are here under orders from Kitzov.”
Boyd heard Poledri’s voice.
“Kitzov sent us,” Poledri said. “Do you know who this is?”
“Will Boyd,” Thresh said. “It’s Boyd.”
“Sergeant Will Boyd,” Poledri corrected her. “Sergeant Will Boyd of the Blue Star Marines.” Poledri punctuated each word with a heavy kick to Boyd’s abdomen.
Boyd squirmed under the fierce blows, certain the beating would not end until he was dead.
“You know who the Blue Star Marines are, don’t you?” Poledri asked Thresh. “They are the Union’s Marine special operations battalion. He’s a kravin spy bastard, and he’s been here with us for months.”
“No,” Thresh said. Boyd could hear her voice breaking with emotion.
“Yes, a spy. And I’ve just spent the last few hours convincing Kitzov I’m not working with him.”
Boyd felt another blow, a punch to his head, and then Poledri come close, snarling in his ear.
“If it was up to me, I’d kill you, nice and slow, take you apart piece by little piece, painfully, keeping you alive for as long as possible, making sure you are conscious when I airlock your kravin spy ass. But Kitzov has another plan for you. Get him on his feet.”
Boyd felt himself lifted. The low-yield pulse round was wearing off and now he could feel the site of every punch and kick the troopers had landed on him.
Then he felt a pulse round strike him in the back and his blurred vision drifted to black.
8
“Don’t deny it,” Kitzov said. “Just answer my questions and I’ll promise you it’ll be quick in the end. What was your mission?”
“I’m no spy,” Boyd said.
Boyd sat chained to a metal desk that was bolted to the deck. His chair, a low shelf, also bolted down. His hands were bound behind his back, his feet bound together.
Kitzov paced the small room.
Kitzov drew a small holo-generator from his pocket. He pointed it at the table and displayed a holo-file.
Although his vision was still blurry, Boyd could see it was his crew report from the Resolute. In his Blue Star uniform with short hair, a clean shave, and a serious expression, he looked just like his brother.
“So what? That was ages ago. I left the Union after I killed my instructor. It was the Faction or the noose for me.”
“I thought you were the son of an ice farmer, out in the Sphere. Father killed by the Union. You really need to keep your story straight.”
“I cooked up that cover. I tell you, I killed my instructor, Lieutenant Crippin. I was at the Marine training camp on Terra and got in a fight. I stabbed him through the chest. I ran. Stole a mini transit unit and headed for the belt. I knew I could hide out in the Faction. And I knew that if I told anyone I’d come from Terra, I’d be ripped apart.”
Kitzov sat in the chair opposite Boyd.
“You went through Marine training? You were at Forge Farm?”
Boyd dropped his head. “Yes, I was going to be a special operations Marine.” He looked up. “But I got out. I had to. If you kill me now, it’ll be no different than if I’d stayed in the Union. All I wanted was to be free.”
“I want to believe you, Boyd, but you are lying. I thought I was getting to like you, but I hate a liar. I was suspicious when you gained access to the Union facility on Kalis. No one else knew about that place. How come you did?”
“I got lucky.”
“No, Boyd, you were unlucky. No one in the Faction knew about that facility and we’ve been landing on Kalis for years. Your first visit and you find one of the best-hidden Union facilities in the outer system.”
“All I was doing was my best to save us from the Skarak attack. We would have all been killed or captured. You saw what the Skarak do to those they capture. For me, that’s worse than death. I was just trying to save us all from that horror.”
Kitzov rubbed his chin, his thick stubble scraping under his fingers. He looked Boyd up and down, apparently trying to decide if he believed his story or not.
“I have got Enke Thresh out there insisting you couldn’t be Union. She’s begging me to let you go. I have known Enke since she was a kid. I know she’s Faction through and through, and I know she is no fool. If she says you are good, then I want to believe her. I think she likes you, to be honest. She is still pretty beat up from the Battle at Kalis LZ, but all she can talk about is you.”
“I like her too,” Boyd said. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”
“I hope not. But if it turns out you are Union, some might say you had help. Some might say little Enke is complicit. I might have to shoot her in the head too.”
“No,” Boyd said.
“You do care for her,” Kitzov said with a smile. He stood up. “It’s a pity you are a spy. I’d have liked her to find someone who made her happy.”
“I helped take down that Union cruiser, the Truth. I’ve been a loyal member of Poledri’s crew for months.”
“Yes, Poledri is tearing his ship apart right now, looking for any evidence you are a spy. If I thought he was complicit in your actions, even in the slightest, he knows he’d be dead too. I trust Poledri. I trust Enke. I don’t trust you. I like you—you have courage, you are good in a fight, you are a clever guy, you would have made a great Faction captain—but you are a Union spy and I’m going to have to kill you.”
Just then, the door to the small room slid open and in walked Poledri. As the door slid shut, Boyd saw Jemmy Noland standing outside, prevented from entering by the troopers guarding the door. Noland was grinning at Boyd through his nasty little teeth. He drew his finger across his throat and stared at Boyd. The door slid shut with a thud.
“What?” Kitzov said looking at Poledri.
Poledri nodded, then turned to scowl at Boyd. He pulled a small device from his pocket and dropped it on the table in front of Boyd.
“Union covert device,” Poledri said, snarli
ng at Boyd. “It was well hidden—” He turned to Kitzov. “—but I found it. I’ve run a few tests on it. It’s a quantum twinned device, only able to send and receive to one other device. Its twinned nature means it’s impossible to intercept or otherwise detect communications. I can’t open the channel. I suspect Boyd can, though.”
Kitzov looked at Boyd. “This doesn’t look good for you.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Boyd said. “I’ve never seen it before.”
Poledri walked around the desk and grabbed Boyd by the hair. “On my ship. You spy on me on my own kravin ship!” He slammed Boyd hard into the table. Fury boiled over and he punched Boyd in the kidneys.
Boyd tried his best to ignore and endure the pain. It was impossible. Crying out caused his heart to sink. He hated thinking that anyone would have the pleasure of hearing him in pain almost more than he hated the pain itself.
“It’s not mine,” Boyd said as the punches rained in.
“It has got your DNA all over it,” Poledri said, stepping back, panting from the exertion.
“I’ve been alone on that ship for over a week, repairing it, making sure I could return to the Faction, return it to you. My DNA is going to be all over that ship.”
“He’s got you there,” Kitzov said. His voice light and with a hint of amusement.
Poledri was not amused. He stormed in and attacked Boyd again, grunting with every punch, punctuating the attack with shouted condemnation.
“You. Lying. Union. Spy. Scum. Bastard.”
Boyd collapsed forward onto the desk, blood and sweat pooling on the surface in front of his eyes. The door slid open again. Boyd heard Kitzov.
“Last chance, Boyd,” Kitzov said lightly.
Boyd tried to sit up, but the bruises hurt. He was sure he had a broken rib.
“I’m Faction. I’m no spy.”
Boyd was jerked up off the small stool. He was dragged around the desk and to the door. He could tell from the grunting that Jemmy Noland was forcing him along. His hands pulled up behind him, still bound. He barely kept his footing as he was forced along the corridor. The bindings at his feet made it impossible for him to take anything other than tiny steps.
His feet failed to keep up as Noland gave him a heavy shove. He saw the boots of a half-dozen people in the corridor of the Silence. Kitzov, Poledri, Noland and three Faction troopers. He was hauled back to his feet and thrown along the corridor, where he crashed to the deck once again.
Clambering up onto his knees, Boyd saw he was at a junction. A short corridor led off the main corridor to the small portside airlock. The inner hatch was already open, a red light flashing inside. The small porthole on the outer hatch showed black void beyond.
“Get up, Union,” Noland said as he kicked Boyd back to the deck.
A pair of troopers dragged Boyd to his feet. They dragged him the few meters to the airlock and threw him inside.
Boyd landed heavily on the cold airlock deck. He was hauled up and set on his knees, his back to the outer hatch. He looked up at Kitzov, Poledri and Noland on either side.
“Any last words?” Poledri said.
“I’m no spy.”
Noland stepped forward and drew his pulse pistol from his waistband. He primed the weapon.
“I really want to shoot you,” Noland said. “But a pulse round to the head would be a mercy. I am happy that we will let you choke on a lung full of vacuum. But I would enjoy pulling the trigger on your Union scum head.”
“I’m telling you, I’m no spy. I’m Faction.” He looked up at Poledri. “We’ve fought together. We’ve taken down Union ships together. How could I do that if I was Union?”
“We all do terrible things to advance our causes, Boyd,” Kitzov said. “But what was it you were doing amongst us? You had your chances to kill me, so I don’t think you are an assassin. Tell me, and I’ll make it a pulse round instead of airlocking you. They say the airlock is a nasty way to go. Your skin freezes while your blood boils in the low pressure of the vacuum. And it takes a long time. A long time to think about how much easier a pulse round to the head might have been.”
“I’m no spy,” Boyd repeated. There was no way he was going to betray the Union by admitting the truth.
Movement at the end of the corridor caught his eye. He looked up and saw Thresh being led to the airlock by a pair of troopers. She had been crying, her face and eyes were red, but she had a stern expression. She stared at Boyd. As she came closer, she shook her head.
“They tell me you are a spy,” she said.
“I’m no spy, Enke,” Boyd said. He breathed out heavily. “It’s not true. I am Faction.”
“You see, I told you. Kitzov, please,” she said. She grabbed Kitzov by the arm. A Faction trooper pulled her off.
Kitzov reached out and placed a hand gently on the back of her head. “He’s a spy. He must have had help.” He pulled her to him. “Tell me, Enke. You’ve been with him, alone, for a long time. Has he done anything to make you suspect him, anything at all?”
She looked down at Boyd just as he looked at her. She had walked in on him when he had been in contact with Featherstone. She had made comments, innocent enough but with a hint that she suspected he was not all he said he was. Boyd knew Enke was true Faction.
She turned to Kitzov. “No. Nothing. He can’t be Union.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at him, Enke,” Kitzov said. “I hate to take something away from you that makes you happy. You are like a daughter to me…” He turned on Boyd. “But he is a spy.”
Kitzov reached out and tapped the control panel. The inner hatch sealed shut.
Enke cried out, her voice cut off as the airlock sealed. Boyd was now trapped and alone in the small airlock with the red flashing light flickering around the small space, throwing his shadow across the inner hatch. Through the inner porthole, he saw Enke being held back from the door. He saw Poledri, his face stern, eyes fixed on Boyd. Noland was grinning, looking at Boyd and miming that it was about to get very cold.
Then Kitzov stepped up to the airlock.
Boyd closed his eyes. He had not taken this job thinking it would be easy, and he always knew it could kill him. He didn’t mind so much losing and dying, but he did feel remorse that he had not finished the job, and that he had failed to get revenge for his brother’s death. He wished he had taken the shot and killed Kitzov—disobeying his orders and forgetting his oath to the Blue Star Marines. He could have killed Kitzov, had his revenge, and he’d have been no worse off than he was now.
Kitzov’s hand reached forward toward the inner control panel. Boyd closed his eyes and prepared to die.
The sound of the hatch opening and the slight rush of air sent his pulse rate soaring. He felt his heart skip a beat and his body tense up.
Then he heard his executioners. Noland laughing. The troopers walking forward. Boyd relaxed, collapsing. He heard Thresh shouting angrily. He looked up to see her lashing out at Kitzov, a trooper holding her back.
“You bastard,” she said. “Don’t do that to me again.”
Kitzov shrugged her off and leaned down to Boyd. “No, an execution out here would be too hidden. Better to let everyone see. The Faction needs to know what we are up against. The Union will try to tear us apart. But if we are united and stay true to the Faction, we will not be beaten. There will be a trial. Law will prevail, Faction law. You will face the evidence, and then face judgment, and if found guilty, you will die, Boyd. Justice will be the same for you as it is for Faction prisoners at the hands of the Union. You will swing. Take him.”
As Boyd was dragged along the corridor away from the airlock, he heard Noland and Poledri argue with Kitzov.
“He is guilty. Kill him now. That is Faction justice. Make a holo-recording and send it to all Faction captains. They can spread it across the Faction settlements throughout the system.”
“No,” Kitzov said. “We are not pirates and terrorists like they say we are. We are Faction, a legitim
ate power in this system. We will do things properly and have a proper trial, then all people of the Faction will know what we stand for. And the Union will know we are a proper authority and they will have to deal with us as such, not as a scattered band of criminals. I will make the Faction a legitimate power. That is my one aim for our group.”
Their argument faded as he was taken to a med-bay. The Silence med-bay was identical to the one on his own ship, the Resolute. The Silence was a stolen Union frigate, and Boyd was familiar with the layout.
A medic and a drone were waiting at an open med-pod. Now Boyd knew what his fate had been all along. The execution had only ever been an attempt to break him. A medically-induced coma and transport to some Faction settlement for trial had been Kitzov’s plan all along.
The trooper picked Boyd up and laid him in the pod. His hands and feet were still bound, and he could only offer a token struggle. The strapping in the med-pod was applied and it held him down, straps first across his chest and legs held him, then across his forehead completed the immobilization.
The drone closed the pod and the medic tapped away at the interface. Boyd wondered briefly what would await him when he awoke—a braying Faction mob, a mockery of a courtroom with a complicit Faction judge ready to hand down a conviction and sentence of death by hanging.
The thoughts drifted away like a ship lost in the void as Boyd slipped from consciousness.
9
Kitzov watched the pod containing the sleeping spy from outside the med-bay. The pristine chamber was high-end medical tech, the best the Faction could provide, augmented with stolen Union tech. Poledri stood alongside him, the old pirate seething.
“I don’t know why we don’t just kill the scroat,” Poledri said with venom edging every word. “We can make it a long, painful death. Sometimes airlocking is too good for them.”
“I am not killing him,” Kitzov said firmly, his eyes fixed on the unconscious Boyd. “Not yet, anyway. He’s worth more to us as a Union undercover agent in a big showy trial. We’ll cast it across the Faction. Everyone will see we have legitimate legal authority. No more will those subjugated and oppressed by the Union be seen as or feel like second-class people. We are Faction. We are free, and we will defend our state from the totalitarian Union.”
Blue Star Marine Boxed Set Page 31
