by Kal Spriggs
Stasia tried to nod her head. That just sent her into a slight spin.
Mel stabilized her and then guided the woman’s hands to another nearby projection. That done, she looked around.
They floated in a large, open pocket. She could see scorch marks and gaps evident where damage had occurred. Skeletal repairs crisscrossed the area. The only fully complete repairs looked to be a solid wall that blocked a jagged hole.
Mel guessed the patch covered the hole to the outer hull. Apparently repairs continued aboard the robotic ship, she realized. She flinched and gave a shout as something flitted before her face. The movement caused her to tumble and roll in a nauseating spin. Mel stabilized herself and shook her head to clear the motion sickness. Her eyes focused on a metallic spider, which used tiny retro thrusters to hang in front of her face plate. A tiny laser beam cut out to cleanly slice through a metal plate nearby.
Then the metallic spider zoomed away. She followed its path with her eyes.
It joined dozens of its brethren. The small robots swarmed over another area. They maneuvered and welded and cut with their lasers. As she watched, a lattice began to form around another section of damaged corridor.
She pulled Stasia towards her. She made helmet-to-helmet contact, “We need to get back in the corridor with the others. Shut the door you opened and then open the one that closed behind us.”
She pushed Stasia ahead of her and back into the cramped confines of the access passage. She held the other woman steady while she worked.
With the outer door closed. Stasia moved quickly to open the inner door. The section of corridor acted like an airlock. Air rushed inside. Mel slowly lifted her faceplate. “Stasia, take us to a place we can stand up and talk.”
“Are we sure we can afford to stand around and talk?” Bob asked. “That ship nearly killed us just then—“
“The ship didn’t try to kill us.” Mel said. “We damned near killed ourselves.” She took a deep, calming, breath. “Stasia, take us back to that storage room.”
***
The gloomy storage room sat as empty and forlorn as before. Mel looked around at the others. None of them seemed happy. “Okay.”
She thought back to her time as a cadet, about the things she’d learned about people. She’d never expected to have to use her psych-class stuff. It figured.
“Okay,” she repeated. “Up until now, we’ve been running. We haven’t thought, we haven’t planned. We’ve reacted.”
“We didn’t have time to plan,” Bob said defensively.
“We didn’t. We do now.” Mel sighed. “We have around seven days before we get to Vagyr, if the jury-rigged warp drive of this thing gets us there at all. We have time to plan.”
“Da, but we don’t have time if we’re dead,” Stasia said.
“Okay... but we won’t survive if we kill ourselves first,” Mel said. She felt suddenly exhausted. “We need a plan. We need a course of action. Otherwise, we’re going to stick our heads into something that will kill us. And honestly, I don’t think that Fenris wants us dead.”
“Deadly force is not yet required,” Fenris’ gravelly voice spoke. They looked around. “I can track heat sources throughout the vessel. My intercom can hear and speak. You cannot escape me.”
Mel looked around at the faces of her companions. She pulled a marker out from inside her environmental suit, and wrote on the wall: he can hear, but he can’t read.
Smiles began to replace the bleak faces.
“So... something we’ve got going for us, we’re not a threat,” she rolled her eyes, and got a few more smiles. “As a matter of fact… since those others have been designated as pirates, maybe we could get a little help?”
“That depends.” Fenris said.
“Well, I doubt you have any food supplies?” Mel said.
“I do not.”
“But the pirates will.”
“They are currently eating,” Fenris said.
“Well, they won’t give us food, so perhaps you’ll help us take some from them,” Mel said. She waited, hopeful for a positive response.
“That will probably result in deaths,” Fenris said.
Bob spoke up, “And if we set here for seven days without food or drinking water, we’ll be dead.”
Mel gave him a thankful nod. Their environmental suits could recycle water, but the ship didn’t necessarily know that.
“If the others would lay down their—”
“They’re paranoid fanatics,” Bob said as he absently patted his holstered revolver. “They won’t give up without a fight.”
“Neither have you,” Fenris’ gravelly voice sounded sullen. “Fine. I will help you. Additionally, since they are discussing killing their prisoner, I’ll help you to free him.”
Mel couldn’t hold back, “Yes!”
“You have locked down some of the doors between you and them. If you will follow—”
“How about you give us the information and let us plan this?” Mel asked.
“I’m a highly sophisticated AI—”
“Who doesn’t know squat about people, obviously.” Marcus said. He had his helmet off and one hand kept going to the wadded rag they’d taped against the side of his head. Mel thought he looked a little too pale. “We know our own strengths and weaknesses. Let us plan around them.”
The ship seemed to ponder that for a while. “Fine.”
Stasia jerked to her feet as her cobbled datapad began to flash.
“I’ve opened a connection to my security sensors so you can see the two groups of pirates,” said Fenris. “The nearer group has the prisoner, and presumably supplies you can use.”
“Thank you,” Mel said.
She held up the marker, then wrote on the wall, step one: get as much information as possible on the ship.
The others nodded.
Step two: rescue my brother and get supplies.
Strak slowly stood up and then, almost gently, took the marker from her hand and crossed out the words ‘my brother’ and replaced them with ‘prisoner.’
Mel sighed, pressing her lips together, but just gave him a sharp nod.
Step three: find a way to disable or destroy this ship.
The others nodded.
“I leave the table open to discussion,” Mel said.
***
“How many of those security robots does the ship have?” Marcus asked.
“It had seven. We destroyed one.” Mel answered.
“I think you should talk about the pirates. Not about me,” Fenris said.
“Okay... four pirates and the prisoner with this group, here.” Mel said. The ship had, apparently, herded the terrorists into two separate groups. The larger group seemed to be the hardcore fighters and their leaders. The ship proved reluctant to give them information on that group. Mel wanted at least one image of Brian working with the terrorists to convince Strak.
The ship didn’t want them getting anywhere near that other group, however. It flat-out refused to give them access to any information beyond the location of the second group.
“So we have four threats then,” Marcus said, as he wrote on the floor with the marker. “There’s a number of ways we can neutralize them.” Engines, power, weapons, hull. Mel understood immediately he wrote the different ways they could neutralize the ship.
“We have to prioritize what we can accomplish.” He’d listed them in the smallest targets, and also in the likelihood of their own survival.
Destruction of the ship’s warp engine on their arrival at Vagyr would leave the ship floating helpless. Taking out the hull meant the total destruction of the ship. And us, Mel thought, because anything that destroys the ship will probably kill us all in the process.
Mel took the marker, “There’s different ways we could do it.” She drew arrows out from all of the options, writing in her own ideas. They brainstormed right now, they had time. Even so, they needed water and other supplies.
They spoke, and the m
arker went around. They talked about what supplies they needed. That list, Mel spoke aloud, “Okay, we need water, food, ammunition, weapons—”
“You don’t need weapons,” Fenris growled.
“We do. You may have that other group under control now. They aren’t going to stay passive for long. Soon they’ll be moving around and we need a way to defend ourselves,” Bob managed to speak so sanctimoniously that Mel had to press her lips together to hold back a giggle.
“Okay,” she said, to the silence, “Weapons, medical equipment, uh—” she grabbed the marker out of Marcus’s hand “—more markers,” she scribbled a quick thought, then passed it back. “What else?”
Stasia took the marker, hacking equipment, she wrote.
Mel shrugged, “Okay, sounds good.” She looked around at her little conspiracy. “Now lets finalize the plan. Cross out anything we don’t have time for, or information for, or just the basic knowledge for.”
Slowly, the marker went around and slowly each person spoke.
“Okay, taking these four guys. They’re going to be alert. I know them, these aren’t inner circle guys. They’re just hired muscle.” Bob said. He made an odd face as both Marcus and Strak crossed out one of his brainchildren. He sighed, “So anyway, best to take them by subterfuge first. If we go in full force, we get a dead prisoner and four dead goons. We try to trick them…” his jaw dropped in protest as another of his ideas got scratched out. He snagged the marker.
“So we try subterfuge,” Marcus said, a slight smirk on his face as the spy scowled down at the plans. “I’m thinking you try some of your personality skills, Bob.”
The spy looked up, marker poised to cross out a plan, “What?”
“Well, these guys will recognize you, right?” Marcus asked. Mel could see where he was going with that.
“Yeah,” Bob frowned. His hand, however, darted down to cross out the offending plan. “You want me to go in playing little lost lamb?”
“Will they trust you?” Stasia took the marker, and wrote in blocky letters, found a way to scramble all sensors.
“That’s a very good point,” Bob smiled. His eyes crossed briefly as he pulled his mind back onto subject. “Well, I think I can get in close, anyway. And when I do that from the front…”
“The rest of us come in from behind.” Mel said.
They stared down at the mass of scribbles, arrows, capitalized letters and underlined words. Mel took the marker, and slowly began to write.
Plan one: rescue the prisoner and use his knowledge to shut down or disable power plant or engines on arrival in Vagyr.
Plan two: secure explosives (if any) from the terrorists and use those to cause damage to the power plant or engines on arrival in Vagyr.
Plan three: secure AM core from pirates and use to destroy ship.
Marcus gave a grimace, and took the marker.
Plan four: get into the AI’s data core and start pulling wires out.
Mel rolled her eyes, and pointed at her note that the ship still had several of the robotic guard dogs. “Okay, so we got a plan, at least. Let’s start with the first one.”
Everyone nodded, though Strak grimaced. He still thought of Brian as the bound prisoner with the bag on his head. Mel knew the man wouldn’t believe the truth until he pulled the bag off with his own hands.
She restrained herself from rolling her eyes at him. He was wrong, she knew, but she wouldn’t press him. Clearly he’d trusted Brian. She looked over at Marcus, as the thought reminded her of how painful misplaced trust could be.
“Fenris, can you open up the doors we need to get to those four pirates?” Mel asked.
“I’ll open them as you get to them.” Fenris said. “I will mark the safest routes on your... scavenged datapad.” The distaste in his voice for Stasia's cannibalized computer brought a smile to Mel's lips.
“Thank you.” Mel said. “And please, reconsider your orders.”
“I have. I still have to follow them. My security protocols give me no choice. I admire your stubbornness; however you cannot change this.”
“Perhaps Stasia could hack them for you?” Mel said.
The computer didn’t answer for a long moment. “Even the… idea is forbidden. If you were to try, I would have to kill you.” The computer paused for a longer moment. “Thanks for the thought.”
Mel looked over at Stasia with a raised eyebrow. The other woman shrugged.
“All right, let’s go get my brother.”
***
As they walked toward the oncoming confrontation, Mel moved up to walk next to Bob. “Got a question for you.”
Bob nodded, “I figured someone would.”
“Who do you work for?” Mel asked.
“Good question,” Bob said. They walked on in silence for a moment.
“Are you going to tell me?” Mel asked. She wondered if anyone in their group didn't have some preciously guarded secret.
“Maybe,” Bob said. There was a slight smile on his face.
Mel sighed. She looked over at the shorter man, “Look, Bob, I know you’ve helped us so far… but we really haven’t had much of a reason to trust you. If you’ve got some ulterior motives, fine, but you know everything about us… and we know nothing about you.”
Bob chewed on his lip in thought. “Look… I like you Mel. Moreover, I respect you. You keep coming up with ideas and plans. You’re persistent. That’s a good thing in a lot of ways.” He shot her a quick glance, “But trust me, don’t push me on this. I work for a government agency. I don’t work for the Guard.”
“Who then?” Mel asked. “The Preserve has their own agencies…”
“Not them,” Bob said. He frowned, “Look, I’m not going to play twenty questions with you. I will say this… I didn’t infiltrate GFN because I was after them. There are bigger, more dangerous forces at work here.”
“More dangerous than a homicidal warship headed to destroy a planet?” Mel asked.
“I resent that comment,” Fenris said from above.
Bob grimaced and then shook his head. “Look, I’d like to tell you more. I really would. But there are threats… there are things bigger than the Guard and the terrorists that killed your family. There are larger forces at work… and I’m here to see what the ties are with both sides, okay?”
Mel smiled sourly. “That’s both extremely vague and terribly paranoid, you know? I mean, you honestly sound like some kind of conspiracy whack-job.” She blinked, stunned for a second. “You do have some kind of backup? You aren’t on a personal mission or something… right?”
Bob sighed, “Look. I do have some support. But I’m an undercover agent on a ship headed through FTL warp. It’s not like I can magic up some commando team here and now. Yes, I do have allies. No, they aren’t going to be particularly helpful since no-one on my side expected this.”
Mel grimaced. She couldn’t quite stop the uncomfortable thought that the only ‘official’ help they had might just be some vigilante nutcase with a fetish for big guns.
***
Mel stopped before the last door.
Strak and Marcus stood ahead of her. Strak had her pistol now. Even the sight of it gave her a queasy feeling. She looked away, and turned her attention to the jury-rigged datapad that Stasia was staring at. “How long?”
Stasia didn’t look up, “Bob is going in now.”
Mel waited. She fidgeted with her fingers. She eyed the security door. She half expected to hear gunfire.
“Now,” Stasia said.
Fenris opened the door.
In the corridor ahead, Bob had the attention of four large men. Behind them lay her brother on the floor, bound hand and feet with a cloth sack over his head. Two military-style rucksacks lay next to him.
Bob smiled brightly as the four men turned. All four men stared at Marcus and Strak with slack jaws. “No sudden moves,” Strak said. Behind them, Bob drew his BFR.
The largest man peered at them from under heavy brows. “Sho
oting in here, you’re just as likely to kill one of your own from ricochets.”
Mel bit her lip. In her mind she saw the bloody corridor where Giles died.
“I won’t miss.” Marcus said. Mel noticed the slightest quiver in his hand. Mel wondered, was he nervous or was this just another withdrawal symptom?
“You’re just as likely to kill us if we surrender,” the big man said, clearly chewing on each word.
“We don’t want to kill you,” Mel blurted. “We don’t want anyone to die.”
The big man’s eyes barely flicked her direction. He looked at Marcus, “You killed the GFN agent aboard your ship, I hear.”
Marcus shrugged slightly, “It wasn’t me, and it was a life or death situation.”
The big man slowly moved his hand to his shoulder holster. Slowly, he pulled the pistol out. He held it with two massive fingers as he slowly bent over and placed it on the deck. “This is not. None of us are fanatics. We do work, we get paid, that’s it.”
Marcus nodded slightly, his gaze flitted to the other three men. One of them scowled, but they disarmed themselves.
Marcus spoke, “Okay, now if you gentlemen will move with Bob around the corner, we’ll just make sure you don’t have any… forgotten items concealed under your clothing.”
Bob moved them forward, his eyes wary.
As soon as they’d withdrawn a distance, Mel rushed forward. She untied the cords that held her brother’s hands. She tugged the bag off his head, “You have no idea how worried I was about—you?”
Mel stared at the battered face of Brian Liu.
Strak rushed over, “I knew it boss! God, I was so worried about you!”
Mel fell back on her heels. She stared at Brian with horror. “No.”
Brian patted Strak’s shoulder after the other man freed his hands. Brian met Mel's eyes, “You expected your brother. I’m sorry. He works for Guard Free Now. He worked with Giran all along.”
