by Kal Spriggs
She frowned as they rounded the corner and stepped into the port hangar bay. One of the Fenris’ bomber drones sat in its launch cradle; cables and tubing ran into the drone, presumably feeding it power and cycling coolant through its reactor.
Her puzzlement increased when she noticed movement below the drone. She crouched and saw a group of men standing underneath. Everything above their knees disappeared into a space within the bomber.
Smith paused.
“Go on.” He pointed.
Mel nodded in acknowledgment and slunk forward into the narrow confines; the hangar had no internal gravity. As she moved inside, she pulled herself along the skeleton of the launch cradle.
The size of the drone surprised her – it seemed to mass nearly half as much as her parents’ freighter had. Then again, if she remembered right, it ran off of fusion reactors, which were far less efficient than antimatter.
Unlike the Kip Thorne, the drone’s only cargo was its munitions. She wondered for a moment if the terrorists hoped to rig up some kind of a weapon, but the ship had probably expended most of its ordnance in its initial combat.
She finally reached the circle of working men and rose to stand, bracing herself by putting her feet through a couple of the magnetic footholds the work crew had placed around the area. They were in what had to be the drone’s bomb bay; below them were doors that must open into the hangar’s bomb magazine.
The men didn’t look up from their work; clearly it was something they considered important. One of them had just finished connecting a datapad to a tangle of wiring that had been pulled through a newly-cut hole in the bomb bay, leading toward the forward part of the drone. Another was rapidly entering commands on his own datapad. The third man worked on a separate tangle of wiring.
She could easily guess they’d set up connections to the bomber. Why they wanted control of it, she couldn’t guess; the drone contained only a standard warp drive, not one capable of faster than light travel.
“How much longer?” Smith asked.
“Already done. We did a test a few minutes ago, it should work,” replied a stocky, dark-haired man without looking up from his work.
“Okay,” Smith grunted, “I’ll tell the Colonel.”
“What are they doing?” Mel asked.
Smith ignored her, bending down to shout: “Kerel, drop that there and go let the Colonel know we’re ready down here.”
When he stood again, he stared warily at Mel. “Stay here.”
“Not planning on going anywhere.” Mel said, keeping her voice as pleasant as possible. Smith just grunted. He did a vertical spin and then pulled himself away, headed back the way he’d come.
Mel moved closer to the three working men, peering over the shoulder of the one with the datapad. He was running some kind of diagnostic of the bomber’s power system and defense screen, and she shook her head. Of course; how could I be so ignorant?
The terrorists planned to reconfigure the bomber’s defense screen to act as a radiation screen. As long as they waited inside the field, they’d be protected from the radiation. That wouldn’t help anyone outside the field, but she doubted they cared much about her companions.
She spun herself over to look past the working men. If she remembered correctly, a separate access way led out of the hangar on the far end. If she could reach it, and if she could open it…
There was a grunt behind her; she turned slowly and saw the first of Smith’s group pushing a bulky ruck into the space. Dammit; so much for her chance to run.
The other terrorists piled in behind the first, corralling the gear into a tight space in the corner of the bomb bay. One of those items was the false antimatter core. Worse, they were tying it down – next to another snarl of gear – with the side lacking the control pad plainly visible. It looked like they planned to wait the ship out.
She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. Panic would not help; she had to focus on escape. She needed to get out of here, and soon.
***
She was still waiting for another chance to escape when Colonel Frost and the rest of his men arrived. No explanation was necessary; there was only minutes before Fenris’ time limit ended. The entire group of terrorists fit comfortably within the bomb bay; they’d closed one of the two bay doors and most of the terrorists reclined in that half. Mel floated uncertainly on the side nearest the door; she’d need only seconds to reach it.
She closed her eyes and visualized the movements she’d need to open it. Fenris can probably open it for me, she thought as she chewed on her lip. She needed time, she needed a distraction... she needed something.
“Attention, attention,” Fenris announced. “I have found a way to increase available power. Shipboard lighting, environmental and gravity will be restored in thirty seconds.”
She felt her jaw drop. Had Fenris just sold her out?
The lights in the hangar came on, but the bay remained in shadow. No internal gravity. She looked around at the surprised terrorists – were they suspicious of her? But there were no angry accusations, just confusion.
As the terrorists began to babble, she slowly let out a sigh of relief.
“All right, shut up,” Colonel Frost snapped. “Ship’s restored power somehow. Captain Roush, have a team reestablish a perimeter.”
“Yes, sir.”
Frost looked around the small refuge for a moment. Finally he pointed at Mel, “You, come here.”
Her heart started to race again as she pushed herself off from the wall.
She caught herself on a handhold next to the colonel. She couldn’t force herself to look at him. Instead, she looked down at her wrist, wiggling it back and forth and doubting her ability to fool anyone.
“Looks like we’ll have time to test your theory, after all,” he said dryly.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“I want you to see if you can reach the auxiliary bridge,” he said. “I don’t know how much longer our window will be with this thing having no internal sensors. We’ll need to act soon, especially since your former companions will be trying to stop us.”
She nodded, too surprised to speak.
“Here,” Frost passed her back the pistol he’d taken earlier. “Don’t provoke the ship, but try to get me some information.”
“Why the sudden trust?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.
Frost snorted, “Not trust. You’ll be out of my hair and your brother can focus on his job instead of worrying I’ll kill you out of hand.”
“Would you?” Mel asked.
Colonel Frost grabbed her by the front of her ship’s suit and pulled her close. His breath smelled foul, and his face was ugly this close up. She shivered in fear as the terrorist smiled coldly, “If I thought you were a threat to my men or my mission, I’d kill you in a heartbeat.”
He pushed her away. “Now get going.”
She kept her face averted and just gave a brisk nod. Then she pulled herself towards the open bay door.
***
Michael Frost watched the woman push off and held down his anger. Something about her struck him as wrong. Something about her warned him. He didn’t know what; perhaps just the possibility that if he handled her wrong, her brother would betray him.
“You’re sending her back out, sir?” Captain Roush asked.
Frost glanced at Roush out of the corner of his eye. There seemed more than casual interest in the other man’s voice. “Yes. I am, now that we don’t have to worry about radiation.”
“Huh. Pretty lucky that,” Roush said. He scratched behind his ear. “I still don’t understand how it got extra power so quick.”
Frost shrugged, “I planned on using our antimatter core from the John Kelly as a bargaining chip, but—” He froze, his mouth open as he glanced at the cylinder, then looked over at Rawn’s sister, who had just pulled herself out of the bomb bay and into the hangar.
“Stop her! Stop her now!” he shouted, pushing himself off – not at the woman,
but toward the cylinder. He only needed one look at it to notice the obvious flaws. Obvious to anyone who paid it attention, anyway.
He turned to see that two of his men had grabbed the woman by her legs and pulled her back into the bay.
One glance at the panicked look on her face was enough to prove her guilt.
Colonel Frost drew his pistol. “Bring her here.”
CHAPTER XII
Time: 1100 Zulu, 16 June 291 G.D.
Location: Fenris, Seventy two hours from Vagyr
Mel found herself breathing faster and faster as the two men pulled her toward the terrorist leader. Air burned through her lungs and things began to glow black at the edge of her vision. She fought against the restraining arms, but the two big men held tight. Frost drew his pistol and chambered a round.
Too late, she remembered the pistol he’d given her. She should have fought; at least then she could have taken some of them with her.
A gravelly voice blasted the hangar, the volume deafening: “Colonel Frost, if you kill Melanie Armstrong, I will vent the hangar to space.”
Frost paused, arm in the midst of raising his pistol. “Are you talking to me?”
“I am,” Fenris said.
“You’re bluffing,” Frost shook his head and brought the pistol up. Mel stared down the dark tunnel of the barrel, watched his finger tighten on the trigger.
An alarm klaxon sounded.
“He’s not!” Rawn shouted. Mel’s eyes darted to him. Two men kept her brother restrained; one of them was Captain Roush. “That’s an emergency vent alarm! The ship’s already disengaged the safeties if that alarm sounded!”
The muscles of Frost’s jaw stood out sharply as he ground his teeth. “You’re watching us, ship?” He lowered the pistol.
“Yes.”
“So you can forward a message to her people?”
“Yes.”
Frost pushed off from the wall, and drifted to hover only a meter away from Mel. He braced himself and raised the pistol again, grinding it into Mel’s forehead. “Tell them this, computer. They have exactly twenty-four hours to come here and surrender. After that, I’ll kill her.”
“If she dies, so do you,” Fenris said.
Frost’s lip curled, “We’ll see.”
He nodded at Roush and Rawn, “Put your sister in the magazine chamber below us.” He didn’t watch as Roush slowly let go of Rawn’s arms.
As Rawn passed, Frost caught his arm, “Your sister has gone over the line, this time.”
Rawn looked at Mel. The anger she saw in him made her wince. “I agree,” Rawn said. The younger man looked more angry than Frost himself.
“Captain Roush, make sure she doesn’t escape.”
“Yes, sir.”
Frost slowly holstered his pistol. As his goons dragged her away, Mel saw him stroke the butt of it, as if anxious for the chance to draw it again.
***
Frost waited until Rawn and his wayward sister were out of sight. Then he grabbed Roush by the collar. “You are responsible for this.”
“Sir?” Roush asked, eyes wide in surprise.
“I told you before to keep an eye on that antimatter core. Why didn’t we have a guard on it?” Frost felt irritation and frustration eat at his insides. and revised Aaron Roush's intelligence downwards yet again.
He didn't miss the look of panic that went across Roush's face, “Sir… we’ve lost so many people, I didn’t want to take a man from a team—”
Colonel Michael Frost’s face twisted in anger, “Then you should have stood over it yourself!” He let out an angry breath and shoved Roush away. “You will guard her. Not one of the men... you. She’s your responsibility.”
“Sir… I’ve been up for the past twenty hours…”
“Swaim’s finished his coding. Rawn can do the rest. I want you to watch him too.” Frost shot an angry glance at the blond programmer. “Rawn thinks the little bastard’s been shamming.”
Which only made sense, Frost knew. Swaim wasn't a volunteer and he had to know they didn't really trust him.
“Sir…”
“No excuses,” Frost snapped. He let out a slow calming breath. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, his face was calm, “In twenty-four hours, either I’ll be executing her, her friends, or you. I don’t care which.”
Captain Roush seemed to sag into himself, “Understood, sir.”
The deflation of his almost insubordinate second in command showed that Frost had finally broken the man's arrogant bluster. At least he had managed one thing, so far. He smiled cheerfully: “Good. I’m glad we finally understand each other.”
***
The bomb magazine was a metal cube, filled with empty bomb racks. A skeletal elevator system hung just under the doors. The only other features were the empty munition cradles.
The two men had tied her to one of the racks. One of them rubbed his chin while staring at her. He had a hungry expression and she felt her stomach twist. She doubted her last day would be a good one.
“Conrad, Cruz, I’ve got this. Colonel Frost wants you two to get some sleep.”
She looked up to see Frost’s second in command climb down the elevator frame. A younger, blond man followed him down.
“Awww…” one of the guards snarled, “Why’s the officers always get the best pussy?”
Captain Roush smiled as he stepped over and backhanded the man.
“Shut your mouth, you little shit.”
“Sir?” The other man asked, looking between his friend and the suddenly furious officer.
“Her brother is ten meters away. you idiots,” Roush spat, his face flushed with anger, “How do you think he’d handle you two idiots raping his sister?”
The man on the floor pushed himself up, feeling at a split lip. “He’s just a kid, we could handle him. Besides, Colonel’s going to plug her anyway. Who’d know?”
“I would. So would he when he hears her screaming,” Roush snarled. “And he might look like a kid, but he’s killed a few men. Colonel Frost actually likes him, Conrad. And he doesn’t like people who haven’t proven themselves.”
“Oh.” The first man stood, still dabbing at his bloody lip. He scowled at Roush. “You better watch yourself. You might be a captain—”
Roush grabbed the other man and slammed him back against the rack. “Accidents happen to everyone, Conrad. Not just officers. I was an NCO in the Guard Army for six years. Don’t think I don’t know how to make a few accidents happen. Understood?”
Mel watched the two angry men. Her gaze flitted between them and the other man, Cruz. She half hoped they’d fight and kill each other; all three looked angry enough to do so. She held back a groan of disappointment as the GFN captain set Conrad back on his feet.
Apparently, she’d hoped for too much in her desire for the terrorists to kill each other.
“Now, go on, get some rest. Think about accidents. Have some sweet nightmares of me in your sleep,” Roush said. The two guards moved away, and their nominal leader watched them both until they climbed out of the chamber.
He nodded at the smaller blond man who stood near the entrance, “Go ahead and set our gear over there,” he pointed at a nearby area.
She started, her eyes flickering back and forth from the two men. Captain Roush was a big man. If he was planning to disregard his own orders...
He must have caught some of the fear on her face, because he smiled slightly at her: “I’ve been directed to make sure you’re here for your appointment tomorrow. Either that, or take your place.”
“Oh, lucky me,” she swallowed, her throat felt suddenly dry.
“You are,” Roush snorted. “I’m more attracted to Swaim over there than you.”
“Uh…”
Roush smiled broadly at her obvious discomfort, “Oh that’s right, you’re one of them religious prudes from Century. Your brother didn’t like it too much when I hit on him, either.”
Mel couldn’t hold back a snort of amusemen
t at that: “I’ll bet.”
“See? We can be pleasant here,” Roush said. Then he sat down cross-legged, his dark eyes roving across her body, “Comfortable?”
“I’d be more comfortable if I wasn’t tied up,” Mel said hopefully.
“I’d be more comfortable if I wasn’t stuck here with an ultimatum over my head,” Roush responded. “Nothing personal, but better you than me, eh?”
He glanced over his shoulder, “I got first watch, Swaim. Get some sleep.”
The blond kid nodded. He looked even younger now that Mel had a chance to look him over. Mel nodded in his direction, “I heard Frost yelling at you over the core. Why’s he down here?”
Roush cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “Lots of questions, huh?”
Mel shrugged, “I just… need something to distract me.”
“Well then, think about this. You’d better hope your friends really like you,” Roush grunted. He glanced over at the other man and then back at Mel. “And yeah, I’m in trouble over you. He’s in trouble because the Colonel doesn’t trust him, and your brother may have just nailed his coffin shut. So… how about you shut up?”
She sighed and leaned back. The metal rack they’d tied her to poked painfully into her shoulders. Even so, it felt good to lean back and close her eyes. She tried to remember the last time she’d slept. She couldn’t say for sure she had slept. She fought her eyes open after a long blink to notice Roush still staring at her, a calculating look on his face. “Something to say?”
He smirked, “Not yet. Get some sleep.”
She leaned back again. It felt odd, but she was actually relieved to be incarcerated like this. She’d done so much, it was time for someone else to take charge. She closed her eyes, just for a second, not wanting to sleep. I'll just rest my eyes, she thought absently.
She didn't hear Aaron Roush snort a little as a snore escaped her open lips.
***
A sudden impact woke her up.
Her head jerked up and she hit it against the rack they’d tied her to. Her shoulders stabbed pain at her and her arms tingled as blood flow returned.
