by TR Cameron
The gloves from the survival kit and his boots were both sufficiently rough to grip the rope, and he pulled himself up soundlessly. When he climbed onto the roof, he found what he was hoping to discover: a maintenance panel that led down into the building. Also present was an air circulation fan that served the interior, and if this had been a proper invasion, he’d just strap a knockout gas grenade onto the intake and call the first part of the plan done. Instead, he moved to the back and tossed the gloves down to Cia, then gave her a hand up as she reached the top of the rope. He drew the line up as she crossed to the center and unfolded her tablet again.
He levered the cover up with barely a creak and peered down. The opening provided access to what looked like an office, with two desks and chairs set facing one another. Only a single door led out. Fortunately, it was closed, and also fortunately, the room was unoccupied. It would have been too dangerous to send in the drone for recon, even if it could somehow open the doors, so Cia would wait above and monitor the exterior to alert him to trouble. He whispered, “Remember, no talking unless it’s an emergency.”
She rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion at him. He slipped through the opening, hung from the rim, and then dropped into the room below.
Chapter Twenty-One
The positioning of the hatch and the dimensions of the room he’d dropped into led him to the conclusion that the building held enough space for five rooms of about the size of this one on the top floor, plus a central corridor and a staircase or an elevator leading down. He couldn’t imagine the latter, but he’d learned from his time in the field that you could never rely on others to share your priorities. So, until disproven, he’d assume a lift might be part of the building’s amenities.
He put his back against the wall and cracked the door open, finding the corridor he’d expected, and three more doorways before the hallway ended at an exterior wall. Okay, so the stairs or elevator must be on the other side. It was probably safe to assume that one or more of those doorways had doors attached, but he didn’t see any, suggesting they lay open, and further, that they opened inward rather than outward like this one did. It’s probably also a reasonable assumption that the three buildings will be similar or identical. He swung the door the rest of the way open, staying hidden. Nothing happened, so he risked sticking his head out. As expected, a staircase descended on the near side, and another room with a closed door sat across from it.
His palm itched for his pistol, but he put it out of his mind. The only safe way to proceed was to clear the rooms in such a fashion as to minimize the chances of an attack from behind. In this case, that meant getting to the end of the corridor farthest from the connection to the lowest level and then working forward from there. He indulged in a brief muttered, “This sucks,” then pushed that thought out of his mind too.
Jax crept out into the hallway toward the nearest door, located a few feet away across the hall. Rustling reached his ears, and he sighed. With the realization that his plan was now invalid, he pressed himself against the wall. His senses expanded as adrenaline flooded his system, and he picked up more sounds coming from the room: the creaking of a bed as weight shifted on top of it, another loud exhale, and a small laugh. It seemed like there were two people inside, which would make his next move difficult.
What I wouldn’t give for a remote cam, he thought, then launched himself stealthily around the corner as quietly as he could. The room was half again as wide as the one he’d been in and had a pair of beds, one on each side. The middle included yet another desk, and cabinets sat at the foot of each mattress. Two men occupied the space, one lying on the bed to his left and the second sitting on the one to his right. Jax dipped and threw a punch into the seated man’s solar plexus before he could do more than start to stand, stealing his air and hopefully distracting him for a few seconds. He jumped onto the other man, smashing the breath out of him with his knees, and applied pressure to the arteries in his neck, quickly rendering him unconscious.
Jax wrestled the remaining enemy into a chokehold from behind before he recovered and waited for him to settle down. Each time he tried to yell, Jax squeezed and stopped him. Eventually he got the idea and asked, “What do you want?” His voice sounded hoarse and angry.
“Cargo arrived with the Twinkletoes. Know about it?” He whispered the words into the man’s ear, his eyes on the doorway in case someone came to interrupt them.
“No,” he started and got a squeeze in return. When he could speak again, his captive said, “Listen, there are a bunch of ships and that one’s not mine, but whatever they brought will either be on them or in the building over there.” He tilted his head toward the one to the right.
“Dammit,” Jax breathed and choked him into unconsciousness. He pulled the backpack off and rummaged in it, retrieving rope and tape that he used to bind and gag the men. He closed the door on his way out and retraced his steps to the office. Once he climbed back out, he said, “Wrong building. I’d say we’ve got ten minutes before those guys wake up, and maybe ten after that until they make enough noise to be discovered.”
They repeated the process in reverse to get off the roof, then ascended to the top of the right-hand building. The timer in his head told him they had about thirteen minutes left. He forced himself to be quiet as he dropped into a room that was the same size as the access point in the last structure but had bunk beds on one side and lockers along the other. He checked the storage containers automatically, and his eyes widened in shock. UCCA weapons were racked inside, and they shouldn’t have been. When he pulled one out to confirm its authenticity, everything he saw said it was what it appeared to be. Authentic and recent. This can’t be more than a year old. What the hell is it doing here?
He considered bailing, just heading back and sharing the changed circumstance with Cia and getting the hell out of there. None of the options that involved the presence of Alliance weapons were good. No. This is military need-to-know, and she doesn’t. Besides, maybe I can find out what’s going on and report it. He repeated the process of checking the hallway and found an identical layout. It was doubtless too much to hope for that they’d be using the upstairs for storage, but he had to check before taking the risk of exploring the downstairs. He made it almost to the doorway before a deep voice behind him said, “Stop right there. The boss wants to have a conversation with you.”
The guards knew their jobs well, and two of them stayed spread apart far enough that he couldn’t get to one before the other blasted him, while a third led the way. They exited the building by the front door, and he got his first ground-level look at the common area. It looked more comfortable than any number of base camps he’d been in. Apparently the life of a pirate was lucrative, based on the gourmet foods and high-quality spirits that littered the place.
His escort delivered him to the building on the far left and marched him up the stairs. He kept his eyes moving and noted more crates of UCCA gear stacked uniformly to one side of the entry level. Something’s not right here, but damned if I can figure out what it is. The guards took him to the back corner and put him into one of four metal cages. A fingerprint lock secured the door as it clanged closed, and his minders departed. He shook the bars, but to no avail. He wouldn’t be breaking out anytime soon.
The cell didn’t offer enough room to lie down, so he lowered himself to sit cross-legged and closed his eyes. Until something changed, all he could do was try to relax so he’d be mentally and physically ready when an opportunity presented itself. In no part of his mind did he envision dying in the cage as a possibility. At the very least, they’d want to move him somewhere more private and less messy to kill him, and there would be a chance to make a play then.
A few moments later, the door banged open, and Cia was thrown into her own modest prison across the room from him. She shouted insults at her captor, and the man looked relieved to be away from her as he left them. Jax grinned, and the pilot smiled back. He said, “Way to show him who’s boss wh
ile he’s tossing you in a cage.”
She nodded. “Gotta keep the rabble in line. How’d they get you?”
He shrugged. “No idea. I blame you.”
Cia snorted as she sat down in a position that matched his own. “I was minding my own business. Find out anything interesting?”
Jax shook his head and stared at the floor. “Nothing useful. They said the ‘boss’ wanted to talk to me, so there’s that.”
“They said the same thing to me. So, what’s the play?”
“Until something changes, there isn’t one. Unless you can fly the Grace by remote and have her knock down everything inside this asteroid until they let us go.”
Her laugh was notably free of mirth. “No, she’d need a full-blown AI for that. Plus, the station owner would pursue us, like, forever. Bounty hunters, shoot on sight, that sort of thing.”
“Well, then I guess we’re out of options.”
“Not entirely.” She tapped the heel of her boot with the toe of the other. “We can always call for the cavalry.”
He wanted to ask for details but didn’t want the people eavesdropping on their conversation to hear them. “Probably too early for anything dramatic. I’m sure whoever the boss is, they’ll be open to a reasonable discussion.”
They spent an hour or so making up stories about one another’s past to kill time. By the end, he’d decided she was a princess from the Confederacy, sent to gather intelligence on the UCCA. She’d countered with a decisive statement that he was actually a mouse operating an artificial human suit, and if they opened his chest, there would be a little running wheel, a control center, and a wedge of cheese hidden inside.
The arrival of an unamused-looking guard forestalled further argument. He unlocked Cia’s cage and ordered her out of it, pulling her roughly into the hallway. The man reappeared and freed Jax, then pushed him through the doorway. They were escorted to the right-hand building again, into an office that covered half the main floor. While not anywhere near as plush as the Professor’s digs, some effort had been made to impress. Framed paintings hung on the walls, a utilitarian wooden desk that was nonetheless polished and well cared for was positioned more or less in the center, and stuffed leather chairs that had seen some use completed the furniture.
The man behind the desk looked up at them with a grin. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a flamboyant mustache and beard. Taking the whole pirate thing a little far there, buddy. His black shirt was obscured by a matching vest with silver buttons, and a thick platinum chain hung around his neck. “Welcome, intruders, to the local headquarters of Clan Kerang, such as it is. Please, sit.”
It wasn’t a request, and they complied before the guards felt the need to compel them to do so. Cia offered, “Nice place.”
Their host responded with a small nod. “It’s not bad as far as station life goes. Still, I’d rather be aboard ship, as no doubt you would, Master Rearden.”
She nodded in return. “Indeed.”
The man turned his attention to Jax. “Her identity was easy to discover; yours, however, was less so. You can call me Mace. How should I address you?”
“Jackson will do. How about we do away with the pleasantries and get to business?”
The pirate laughed. “Is that what you call trying to steal things from me that I’ve rightfully stolen from others? Business?”
Jax offered him a thin grin. “No, I was referring to you naming a price for the package we need so we can be on our way.”
Mace shook his head. “We’ll get to that eventually, I’m sure. But for now, your lovely partner and I will have a pleasant chat, and you’re going to go upstairs with the guards. There’s someone up there who wants to talk with you.” He gestured, and a hand landed on Jax’s shoulder. He stood up obediently, thinking an opportunity to turn the tables on their captors might arrive once he was on the top level. They turned him around and pushed him toward the door.
The pirate’s voice came from behind him, sounding more pleased with himself with every word he spoke. “Oh, and UCCA Special Forces Captain Jackson Reese, do pay attention to what he has to tell you. I dare say you should act as if your life depends on it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jax was escorted upstairs, again by guards who seemed to know their stuff. His brain tried putting two and two together and repeatedly came up with three. That wasn’t an uncommon situation for him; it just meant he lacked an essential piece of information required to bring the picture into proper resolution. He hoped he was about to find the elusive key that would balance the equation.
The room they delivered him to was empty except for two chairs. A man sat in the one facing the door, his sharp eyes immediately locking on to Jax’s. “Sit, Captain.” As he complied, Jax gave the guy a once-over. Taller than me, thinner, gray hair suggests older, lack of beard or mustache sets him apart from the pirates. Straight posture shows discipline. No jewelry, simple black clothes perfectly creased and tucked. Military or recently ex-military, has to be. “Allow me to introduce myself. Michael Carter, UCCA Intelligence.”
Jax kept his face neutral as he settled in across from the self-proclaimed officer. “What are you doing here, sir?” The man hadn’t shared a rank, and probably wouldn’t if he was really in the intel division, so he’d opt for politeness.
Carter offered a thin smile that felt both arrogant and judgmental. “I should think that would be obvious, Reese. Intelligence work.”
“With pirates.” He was sure that his overt doubt colored his tone.
“My understanding is that you’ve done a bit of cloak and dagger stuff yourself, Captain. You know how it goes. The information doesn’t come to us of its own free will; we have to locate it, go to it, and dig it out.”
“True enough.” Jax sighed and ran his hands through his hair, which was sticking up far more than he preferred. “So, why are you in this place in particular, sir?”
Carter rose and began to pace the small room: six steps in one direction, pivot, six steps in the other, rinse and repeat. “A great deal of what I’m about to share with you is classified, of course, but given your rank and position, I trust you can keep it to yourself.” Jax found it notable that the man moved in such a way that eye contact was impossible. “We have every reason to believe that several pirate groups, not including this one, are moving UCCA equipment to the Confederacy. I’ve set up a sting operation, working both sides. The materials currently on site are the bona fides to get things started. Once we’ve established ourselves, we can root out the buyers and sellers and close off the chain.” He sat and looked at Jax. “So, that’s what you’ve stumbled into the middle of. A little more than you bargained for, huh?” He tried a laugh.
Jackson Reese had an abundance of skill and experience in evaluating other people. It came from training them, from impersonating them when he was part of an infiltration team, and from a basic sense of when things weren’t as they seemed. Even given the complexity of the operation Carter had described, which if true would probably invoke his suspicion of deception all on its own, an intelligence agent should not have been as uncertain as this one looked. He did a pretty good job of hiding it and might have pulled off the confidence he tried to project with a less capable observer, but the way his fingers twitched and the slight crinkle of worry at the corner of his eyes told a different story. They were flashing signals that the man was lying about something.
But what? And what’s the right play? Jax shrugged to cover his thinking, then replied, “For sure. I’m only here to retrieve a package that the Twinkletoes stole. How about you get that to me, and we go our separate ways? I certainly don’t want to jeopardize your operation.” He put as much earnest innocence into the request as he could.
The other man nodded, and his eyes flicked down and to his left toward the floor. “I’d hoped you would feel that way. We’ll see what we can do. In the meantime, I’m afraid you’ll need to return to the holding area. Have to keep up appearances, since there a
re members from more than one clan here right now. Thank you for your professionalism, Captain.” He gestured, and the guards took him in tow and delivered him back to the cells, where Cia waited in her cage.
She asked, “So, are we free?”
Jax replied, “Not exactly. We seem to have wandered into a situation involving more than just our package. A military operation.” His words were intended for the listeners while he worked on getting the facts straight in his mind.
“Holy hell. And you didn’t spot it?” It was more an expression of surprise than an accusation. Although I should have known something big was up from the moment I saw those weapons.
He shrugged. “I had an inkling, but nothing solid.”
Cia scowled. “And you didn’t think saying something about it might be important? Like maybe, ‘Hey, just FYI, we might be in a whole heap of trouble?’ In your place, I would have made sure my partner knew what was up.”
“It wasn’t serious enough to break radio silence.”
“Oh, you think?” She gestured around at the cell. “Maybe if you’d told me I could have gotten back to the Grace. Gone for help. Or we both could have, and then we wouldn’t be locked up waiting to die.”
Jax sighed. “They’re not going to kill us.”
She shook her head angrily. “Are you hiding more important information? Because from my perspective here in this cage, I can’t see why they’d keep us alive. Maybe the bars are blocking my view of whatever you’re seeing.”
