Boyd touched his head. It was sore and swimming. Cronin removed a spent med-pack and opened another. The fine tendrils fell from the bottom of the pack and found their way into Boyd’s neck. He felt the soothing touch of the pain relievers as the pack pulled itself tight to his neck.
Then Cronin placed another med-pack on Boyd’s cracked skull.
He felt sleepy. Cronin smiled at him.
“Take it easy, Boyd. You’ll be out for a few hours. I’ll keep you sedated so you can heal, and I’ll have you wake up at the Farm.”
“No,” Boyd said. He fought the drowsiness creeping over him. He watched Cronin walk away, leaving the med-bay. Boyd knew if he fell asleep that by the time he woke up, Thresh would be dead, hanging for a day in front of the capital building with a sign around her broken, strangulated neck. Faction. Pirate. Terrorist.
He reached up to the pack on his neck. His hand felt like it weighed as much as a Union cruiser. He felt the effort sap him of strength and move him further toward sleep. Half of him wanted to give in, but the other half never would. His fingers wrapped around the pack as his eyes refused to stay open for one fraction of a second longer. He pulled the pack away from his neck, ripping skin. He dropped the pack to the deck, and felt the drowsiness dissipate.
Still dizzy from the concussion, he looked around the med-bay. It was empty. Bright lights and empty pods. He swung his legs off the bunk and almost collapsed to the floor. He staggered over to the set of cabinets, clear composite doors over lines of clean and orderly equipment and supplies. He found a stim-pack and ripped it open. Slapping it on his arm, he felt the immediate effects of the stim shot. He was still slightly dizzy and felt like vomiting every few seconds as the concussion and the stim fought a battle in his brain. He found an antiemetic and administered that. Moving along to the next cabinet, he pulled a fresh med-pack. He tapped the controls to reduce the sedative effect, activating only the repair tendrils, like a field dressing keeping a Blue Star in the fight while simultaneously patching his wounds.
Then Boyd was away, sneaking out into the corridor, making a huge effort to walk straight and upright.
He headed to the cargo hold. He needed to save Thresh. He also dimly realized he needed a plan, and possibly a ship, but above all, he needed to save Thresh.
13
Thresh sat next to Kitzov in the holding cell, and he laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Little Enke. You are so brave in a fight.”
She looked up at him and then opened her jacket to show him the grav generator that had been used by her attackers—the grav generator she had scooped up in the fight.
“Clever little Enke,” Kitzov said with a grin. He took the device from her and studied it.
“It’ll pump out enough of a reverse field to weaken this mass field so that a few of us can get through.”
They both looked at the Blue Star Marines that had been posted at the entrance as guards to stop any Union members trying to attack any of the Faction women again.
“Or just two of us, silently,” she added, pointing at the guards. Both were watching the corridor, their backs to the holding pen.
“How will you get their pulse rifles?” Kitzov said, handing the device back to Thresh.
“I can generate a strongly positive field once I am out and drag them off their feet. Should be easy enough to disarm them when they are down.”
Kitzov nodded and moved to the mass field wall. The only indication it was there was the yellow-and-black crosshatch on the deck. He tested the field’s position with his hand. Although there was nothing to see, Kitzov felt the field as if it were a solid bulkhead. As strong as any. He watched the guards at the entrance hatch a few meters away for any movement. They stood rigid. They had been given instructions to watch the door and stop anyone entering, and they were following their instructions to the letter.
“If they were Faction, they’d be more inclined to think for themselves. Look at them, following orders with no idea why or for whose benefit.”
Thresh had heard Kitzov’s lectures on the difference between Union and Faction thinking many times before. She nodded, but focused on the device in her hand. She set the inverse grav field and applied it to the field wall.
Kitzov pressed the field and felt his hand slip through, like pushing through a thick, heavy Newtonian fluid. His hand moved through only if he pressed slowly enough. He nodded at Thresh.
Pushing with her shoulder first, Thresh slipped through the invisible barrier. Her arm was free. She stepped through with one leg. Then she pressed her body through. If the grav device failed now, she would be cut in two. She pulled her arm through, the device coming last.
Once outside the field, she indicated for Kitzov to follow. She saw the sudden fear flash over his face. She turned and saw one of the guards was turning to look into the hold.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Thresh set to work on the generator and set it to form a grav field. She set the focus of the field into a tight beam, pointed the emitter toward the guards, and activated the field.
The two guards, one who had half-turned and had spotted Thresh, were lifted off their feet and drawn through the air toward her. She moved aside, and with a flick of the device, she sent them both flying into the invisible mass field.
Neither were out for the count, but were struggling to regain their feet. Thresh reset the device to allow Kitzov to push his way out, then she set the device down next to the field and grabbed a rifle off one of the groggy guards.
Kitzov grunted as he pressed his way free. A line had already formed of Faction prisoners waiting to push their way through as well.
Kitzov took the pulse rifle from Thresh. He held it in front of him and studied it for a moment, running his hand along its length.
“A fine piece of equipment. I’ll make sure the Faction has the capability to manufacture these for ourselves soon.”
He activated the electron bayonet and then thrust it down into the chest of one of the prone guards. He withdrew the meter-long fizzing bayonet and thrust it into the second guard.
Thresh kneeled and collected the second rifle. She handed it up to the next Faction prisoner to escape. She collected a pair of pulse pistols, passing one off to an eager Faction hand, and then gathered an electron blade from one of the guard’s boots and a spare pulse pistol power pack.
Kitzov was organizing his troops, sending one to watch the door and another to move the bodies of the dead guards.
Thresh stood next to Kitzov. “We should move.”
“The command deck?” he said.
“Too well defended.” Thresh counted the numbers of Faction. Half a dozen had pressed themselves free and another dozen were eagerly waiting their turn. They came through two at a time now, swelling Kitzov’s numbers.
“The drive room,” Kitzov said.
“Or the Silence. They have your ship in tow. I can get her powered up in a few moments.”
Just as Kitzov agreed, they heard the sudden shout of pain from the latest pair pushing through the mass field. Thresh looked at the small generator. Warning signals were flashing over its holo-display. It was about to fail.
Then it did. The mass field returned to full strength and sliced through the two prisoners halfway through the field.
Those still in the holding pen rushed at the mass field, pounding and pressing in vain to get free.
“Find us a way out, Enke,” Kitzov said. He turned his back on the prisoners, trapped behind the mass field. “Let’s move.”
A pair of troopers that had escaped took the lead, armed with pulse rifles. Thresh directed them.
“I’ve studied these frigates. It’s broadly the same configuration as the Silence. There is a small sub-node for the grapple beam generator. We can leave the ship there and make it along the grapple beam to the Silence.”
“How are we going to breathe?” Kitzov said, marching alongside Thresh.
“I can expand the beam to form a tunnel, then pump in
some atmosphere. We’ll have to stay within the field or we will be left behind. This Union ship is going full speed to Terra, so slip outside the field and you’ll be left in the ship’s wake, choking on vacuum.”
“It’s never easy, is it?” Kitzov said.
Then they came under fire. A pair of Blue Stars in the corridor opened fire and dropped one of the troopers. Before the trooper hit the deck, a Faction pilot grabbed up his pulse rifle. All Faction escapees dived for cover as pulse rounds whizzed by.
A siren sounded across the corridor.
“We can’t stay here,” Thresh said. She pointed her pistol out of her slim cover at the side of the corridor and let off a few blind shots. “We have to move now.”
“Faction. Freedom. Forever.” Kitzov stood up. His shout and his movement spurred the group into action. They were on their feet and moving forward, returning the pulse pistol fire. The Faction pilot fell. A young Faction deckhand grabbed the rifle and fired before falling to a pulse round in the chest. The group pressed forward, the front firing and falling, the charge taken up by those behind.
Kitzov pressed forward, urging them with promise of victory. The group of dead now outnumbered the survivors, but they reached the pair of Blue Stars and shot them down where they stood.
Kitzov grabbed a fallen pulse pistol as he walked by, following Thresh.
“Just around here.” She led them into a side alcove, a small sub-node. A young Blue Star technician was standing, trying not to look afraid. He was unarmed. The Faction group filled the sub-node. Thresh got to work on the access hatch. Kitzov entered, and without breaking his stride, he fired a pulse round into the young technician.
“Okay, it’s ready. Just through there.” She pointed the way. “Stay within the grapple beam,” she said as the first Faction member entered the hatch, moving out toward dark space and the Silence being dragged behind.
“Are you sure this will work?” Kitzov said, handing Thresh the pistol he had just used on the technician.
She took the pistol and stood up. “It’s got a better chance than trying to take a ship filled with Blue Star Marines.”
With a handful of Faction crawling along the narrow grapple beam, Kitzov took a look. The group was moving forward, seemingly open to the void apart from the occasional flicker of power along the outer edge of the beam showing it to be an energy field in space connecting the Resolute to the Silence.
“After you,” Kitzov said, showing Thresh the way forward.
“No, Kitzov. I’ll stay here and make sure the beam stays intact until you are across.”
Kitzov nodded. He heard an eruption of pulse rifle fire. The Faction pirate in the entrance of the node returned fire as the Blue Stars attacked.
“Go,” Thresh said. “We’ll hold them.”
“The power?” Kitzov said. “How can we get it back on?”
“You don’t need me for that, but I’ll come over as soon as you are safely across. Go.”
Kitzov crawled into the hatch and out into the tunnel Thresh had created. It made him sick and dizzy. The energy around him playing havoc with his senses. As he crept forward, he saw the other side of the beam connecting with the Silence’s forward section. One of the Faction escapees was cutting his way through the hull with an electron blade.
Then the Silence was open and the first Faction member was aboard. Kitzov moved faster, ignoring the waves of nausea. He saw another one of his new crew enter the Silence. He hurried toward the small, dark opening. Freedom. Forever.
Thresh watched as Kitzov slipped inside his ship.
“Kitzov is aboard,” she called to the Faction pirate who was laying down a heavy return fire, partially exposed. “Let’s go.”
He turned to look at her and then a pulse round slammed into him. He fell limp and lifeless to the deck.
Thresh turned and crawled into the opening, toward the grapple tunnel. She saw the Silence power up, lights flashing on the outer hull, lighting up the name painted on with Faction colors.
“No,” Thresh said. “Wait for me.” She saw the drive field at the rear of the ship flare up and fight to break away.
With the grapple beam an open tunnel to the open Resolute, Thresh would be blown out into space the moment the Silence broke free. She had seconds. She reset the grapple field to fold back on the hull, sealing the breach she had created and freeing Kitzov. As the field was reset, the Silence leapt away and raced away into the dark.
“He left me,” she said quietly.
“Hold there, Faction scum.” A Blue Star Marine stepped into the sub-node.
She turned and looked up at the Blue Star standing over her.
“Help a lady get up, would you, sweetheart?” She held up her hand.
The Marine brought the butt of his pulse rifle down hard on her forehead, and all went dark.
14
Boyd watched Thresh being dragged along the corridor on his wrist-mounted holo-stage, which was currently tapping into the Resolute’s surveillance feed. She was being dragged his way, back toward the hold and the makeshift holding pen. He straightened up, ignoring as much of the pain as he could, and walked boldly around the corner. He stopped in front of the pair of Blue Stars dragging her, one holding each arm. She was drowsy, semi-conscious. Her head was slumped forward, her hair hanging down. A drop of blood fell to the deck. Boyd spotted it.
“I’ll take her from here,” Boyd said to the two Marines.
“Sorry, sarge,” one said. “You’ve been stood down. Major’s orders. I need to take you back to the med-bay.”
Boyd smiled and took a step closer, hands on his hips. “It’s all fine,” he said, shaking his head.
The Blue Star holding Thresh’s left arm dropped her and swung up his pulse rifle. “Stand down, Sergeant. This is my prisoner and we are taking her to the holding pen.”
Boyd pointed back behind the pair of Marines. “Isn’t that the way to the holding pen?”
One Marine half-glanced back. Boyd took the opening and attacked. He grabbed the muzzle of the rifle aimed at him and pressed it upward with his left arm while delivering a bone-jarring jab to the second Marine’s jaw.
The man staggered back, dropping Thresh and grabbing his face. The Marine with the rifle fought back quickly. He let Boyd push the rifle up and swung the butt into Boyd’s gut.
Boyd, filled with pain killers and stim, didn’t feel a thing. He grabbed the rifle with both hands and brought it to the horizontal between him and the Marine.
The second Marine was swinging up his rifle.
Boyd thrust the rifle forward and struck the Marine he was wrestling in the face. Thresh, now coming around, stuck her foot out and unbalanced him. He fell back.
Boyd, now with the pulse rifle, swung it like a club and caught the second Marine in the head.
Both Blue Stars were on the deck in seconds, sprawling and struggling to get up. Boyd grabbed Thresh and pulled her to her feet.
“He left me,” she said as Boyd slung her arm over his shoulder.
“I won’t,” he said. He pulled Thresh along with him, her feet struggling to keep up. Her toes dragged and she stumbled as Boyd dragged her along the corridor. He turned a corner and walked onto the marine deck.
The deck was empty except for the repaired fighter plane. A single seat fighter, it was going to be a tight squeeze, but there was just enough room for two. Boyd dragged Thresh to the side of the Blade and popped open the hatch. He dragged her up the step and she became more alert. She touched the Blade.
“A fighter Blade. I’ve always wanted to take a look at one of these.”
Boyd helped Thresh into the rear of the cockpit. “Bet you’ve seen enough of them in your time, Faction girl.”
Thresh settled in and started activating navigation systems and then a weapons check.
“I meant take a look when they are not firing their high-energy lasers at me or my ship.”
Boyd dropped into the front of the cockpit and closed the hatch. It slid ove
rhead and sealed them in. Thresh activated the fighter’s deflection shielding. It shimmered over the transparent cockpit as it activated and surrounded the little ship.
Boyd fired the maneuvering thrusters and lifted off. As he turned the Blade to face the Marine deck exit, he saw a squad of Blue Stars run on deck—fully armed, with Sergeant Dorik coming in behind.
The Marines fell into formation and took aim with their rifles. Boyd moved the fighter toward the exit, passing through the deflection shield and moving out into space.
“Sergeant Boyd,” Major Featherstone’s voice came over the cockpit communication device. He was transmitting on a narrow focus band, knowing Boyd would hear.
Boyd pulled on the pilot’s head gear and replied on a private channel. With the headgear on, no one else—not even Thresh sitting right behind him—could hear. He realized Thresh could easily hack into the channel and hear Boyd’s every word, but at this stage, he didn’t care.
“Major. My undercover mission is not over. Kitzov has escaped. I can bring him back. I can restore my cover if you make it look like I fought my way free.”
A blast from the Resolute’s spitz guns flashed across the nose of the fighter, just millimeters off target. Boyd pushed the Blade into evasive maneuvers. “That was a bit too convincing,” Boyd said.
“Not as convincing as the drop from the capital building gallows will be. If you have gone rogue, Boyd, I’ll watch you hang along with your Faction pirate friends. But if you bring me Kitzov, I’ll tell fleet command that you were acting under my orders as a Blue Star. You have taken a big risk. You won’t be able to contact me. You will be on your own.”
Blue Star Marine Boxed Set Page 47
