by Kal Spriggs
And right now, she really wished her hands were free so she could wipe away her tears.
***
Her stomach twisted in worry as her ears strained to hear any gunfire. She waited, panting slightly, for any sign that her friends had come. Part of her hoped they wouldn’t, that they’d realized their plan wouldn’t work and given up on her.
The rest of her hoped they would come anyway. She didn’t know what five could do against Frost, Rawn, and the other fifteen terrorists, but... it was possible. She wanted to think there was some hope that they might succeed and she could live.
“What’s going on up there, anyway?” Swaim asked, looking up at the doors in the ceiling.
She wondered at his confusion; if he still didn’t realize just how violent his employers were, he had to have come from a very protected background.
Then again, they probably picked him for that reason, she thought, he would be easier for them to kill when he outlived his usefulness.
“They’re getting ready to fight my friends,” Mel said. She managed to wipe her cheeks against her shoulders. It didn’t wipe away the shame of her loss of self control, but it helped give her back some composure.
“Oh.” Swaim said. “Who’s going to win?”
She cocked her head and gave him a level look, “You should probably wake sleeping beauty up.” She was half tempted to make some plea to the young man, but she didn't think he would be a net benefit to her escape.
“Oh, okay.” Swaim turned away and went to wake up Roush.
Mel just shook her head. She couldn’t believe the ignorance of the kid. Even so, something in her wanted to mother the little idiot.
She focused on the sounds of Frost’s voice, since she couldn’t quite make out his words. How much did the terrorists know about Fenris’s sensors and capabilities? Would the ship use its robots to help her friends attack? Those things could cut right through steel walls.
Surely, with the sensors and the ship’s help, her friends could take down the terrorists?
CHAPTER XIII
Time: 1100 Zulu, 16 June 291 G.D.
Location: Fenris, fifty hours from Vagyr
“It’s certain her brother saw it?” Bob asked.
“He did,” Fenris said.
“This isn’t what we had planned,” Stasia said. “I thought there vas just one guard with her?”
“No plan survives contact with the enemy,” Brian said. “We should have planned for the chance of this.”
He looked over at Marcus: “You know him best. Would he tell Frost with his sister’s life on the line?”
Marcus chewed on his lip. “I’m not sure.” He couldn’t keep the slight tremble out of his voice, and his head throbbed in pain. His entire body ached, in fact, and he hoped the others thought his clenched fists were from anger. He didn’t want them to realize he could barely stop the shakes.
Then they might force him to stay behind.
“We’re wagering our lives on this. We need a definite answer,” Brian said. “When it comes down to it, this whole exercise is too risky.”
“This is Mel,” Marcus said. “We’ve got to do something,” Marcus said.
Bob nodded slightly, “I agree, which is why we’re doing this. Even so, there’s a lot at stake here, a lot more than one life.”
“I don’t care,” Marcus said, his voice hoarse. “If you won’t help me, I’ll go by myself.”
“Look, Marcus, you can’t forget there’s an entire world at stake,” Brian said. His voice was calm and relaxed. “Our number one priority has to be that.” He snorted, “I’m not even human and I feel that way. If it comes down to her life or millions, we have to choose to save the millions of innocents.”
Marcus grimaced, “Nobody’s innocent. Especially no-one on Vagyr. Besides, she’s worth more than a hundred million people to me.”
Brian sighed in exasperation, “Look Marcus, I need you to focus. Otherwise I’m calling this whole thing off. We aren’t going to throw our lives away for nothing.” He turned to Bob, “Right?”
Bob shrugged, “The plan’s solid. We just need to know what Rawn will do.”
Marcus closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw the hate in Rawn’s face again, and his look of utter betrayal when he’d heard the truth. He winced, “Yeah, I think he will tell Frost.”
“You’re sure?” Bob asked.
“Yeah. It was my handwriting. He knows I’ll be coming. He’ll tell Frost, and he’ll want to be there to kill me himself.”
Brian cocked his head, “You normal humans never cease to amaze me.”
“Well, no one's perfect,” Bob said.
“I am,” Brian said. “I was born perfect.”
Marcus restrained the urge to punch the Genemod in the face. For one thing, Brian would probably just dodge. For another, it probably still wouldn't wipe the smirk off his face.
Bob rolled his eyes. “Fenris, you’re still going to do your part?”
“Yes,” Fenris said.
“Why will you help us?” Stasia asked.
“I like Mel,” Fenris answered. The AI’s voice was as close to emotionless as Marcus had ever heard. Can a computer get embarrassed?
“Okay, let’s do this,” Bob said. He drew his massive revolver. “What was that line again?”
Marcus let out a slight sigh of relief. They would do this. He wouldn’t have to go alone.
“Let’s make trouble for other people,” Brian said.
Bob's smile was wicked, “Yes, let’s.”
***
“Smith and his team will take the forward corridor, Anderson’s team the aft corridor.” Colonel Frost said. “The rest of you will remain here in the middle as a reserve. Stay alert. If you take fire, call it out over your team radio.”
Frost scanned the faces of his men, wishing now he had the time for more training. They seemed nervous, but he felt confident they’d handle it. “Move to your positions.”
His men moved out, and Frost turned to Rawn. “You’re certain?”
“Yes, sir. I read the message. I think they didn’t expect a guard to notice.”
Frost nodded once. “Rawn, pull up the ship’s schematics. Tell me why you’re sure they have to come from the sides.”
Rawn pulled out his datapad and brought up a schematic of the local section of ship. After a moment, he projected it as a hologram:
“Okay, we’re in the hangar. The hangar and the magazine are structural weak points. The ship can’t armor the outer doors as well as it can the rest of the hull. Therefore, the bulkheads around it are three times as thick, in case of a direct hit on the hangar.”
Rawn highlighted the walls and ceiling. “The magazine is even more heavily armored, in case of an explosion. They designed the outer hull around the magazine to blow out in case of explosion.”
Frost frowned, “I thought this ship carried fusion and fission warheads, not antimatter.”
Rawn shook his head, “It did. And trust me, if antimatter or even one of the smaller fission warheads went off, the bulkheads wouldn’t matter. But standard nuclear warheads are pretty stable. It’s the high explosive in the fission warheads that might cook off. That’s why the deck plate of the hangar is so thick and why there are a set of blast doors besides the flimsy bay doors.”
“So you’re saying the outer hull here is thinner than the bulkheads?” Frost asked.
“Yes. I doubt they can cut through the hangar bulkheads. The ceilings of the corridors, or one of the bulkheads there, they could do.” Rawn sighed. “The only way they’re getting directly through to the hangar is if they went outside.”
Frost snorted, “Not likely.”
Movement across the hull of the ship would be a time consuming, dangerous, and lengthy process, even if they had the right equipment for it and a means of entry.
He nodded slowly, “All right, what happens if the ship decides to vent the hangar?”
Rawn shrugged, “If that happens, it’ll kill anyone insi
de. It would be pointless though, because it would kill my sister anyway.”
“Wouldn’t the blast door close at a pressure loss?”
Rawn nodded, “Yes, and then it would lock. It’s a damage control feature. The magazine has no internal environmental systems. She’d suffocate before anything could cut its way through.” Rawn shrugged, “Besides, the ship hasn’t tried to kill us yet.”
“I don’t like relying on the generosity of a computer,” Frost said, thumbing on his suit radio, “Environmental suits for everyone. That means helmets on.”
Rawn grimaced, but pulled his helmet off his utility belt and settled it over his head. “You want me to check on—”
“No, Captain Roush will put hers on,” Frost said. “You, I need standing by in case the computer tries something.” Frost lifted his slung carbine and did a quick functions check. “You and Swaim finished that program?”
“I can upload it if I can get a direct link to the AI. It’s got everything fire-walled right now though.” Rawn drew his own pistol and chambered a round, “And I’ve got a personal reason to kill Marcus Keller.”
“You keep an eye out for a chance to upload your program. Let me worry about Marcus.” Frost held up a hand to stop Rawn from speaking. “Never get go into a gunfight while emotional, Rawn. I know you’ve killed before, but you won’t be thinking clearly. You’ll be hunting the man who killed your parents. That will get you killed. You’ve got too much potential to throw that away right now.”
Frost watched the emotions play across the boy’s face. Finally he nodded:
“Understood, sir.”
“Good. Stand by here. Who knows; maybe you will get a chance.”
***
Roush muttered something as he pushed Mel’s helmet down on her head.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Things aren’t going as expected,” Roush said, nervousness clear in his voice.
“What, the part where you hijack a ship or the part where you’re about to take part in genocide?” Mel asked sweetly.
Roush grimaced, “Why do the people with the least idea of what’s going on always have the loudest opinions?” His voice was sharper, his accent a bit harsher.
“Is there going to be a gunfight?” Swaim asked.
Roush shot a grimace over his shoulder at the programmer. “Yes, that’s a fair guess.” He shook his head: “I’m stuck down here on babysitting detail.”
“Oh, feel free to go help out. I’m not going anywhere,” Mel said.
“Thank you so much,” Roush said. He rolled his eyes. “Not that I don’t doubt your inability to escape this room, but Colonel Frost ordered me to stay here.”
“And you always do what you’re told?” she asked with a grimace. It was men like him who had put the bomb in the cafe and killed her parents.
“Again, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Roush ground his teeth, and Mel saw actual anxiety in his face. “I just wish I knew what he and your brother have been working on over the past twelve hours.”
“Well, I finished that programming.” Swaim said. “They might be working on a way to upload it.” He sounded even more nervous than Roush, Mel thought. She was glad that something seemed to have penetrated his confusion.
Roush scowled, “I thought you were delaying on that.”
Swaim looked away, “I, uh, somewhat doubt my own chances of survival now that it’s done.”
“Wisely,” Mel said with total serenity. The terrorists definitely seemed likely to kill him to silence him, or even just to save the cost of paying him. Swaim scowled at her.
“They’re not going to kill you out of hand, Swaim.” Roush said. “If nothing else, they’ll want a programmer for after they take over the ship.”
“Wait, what kind of program was he writing?” Mel asked, with sudden concern. “Were he and my brother working on a way to hack the AI?”
“That doesn’t concern you. Now shut up, there’s chatter on the radio,” Roush growled, seeming far more concerned over the coming fight. Clearly he felt something big was on the line, something out of proportion to what she thought the stakes were. She opened her mouth to ask, then thought better of it. Perhaps if she didn’t irritate him, he’d share any information.
“Smith saw something moving in the forward section,” Roush said, checking his carbine. His gaze went to the open bay door and he took a deep breath. “It sounds like your friends are coming.”
***
Frost’s head snapped up at the first sound of gunfire. “Report!”
“Colonel, it’s Smith. Multiple shots fired. No-one hurt.” A rattle of automatic fire punctuated his statement. “I can’t tell how many of them are here.”
Frost nodded his head at the men with him and they pushed out from under the bomber, headed for the forward corridor.
A second series of shots rang out.
“Anderson here, sir. There’s some of them back here. Curan’s down.”
Frost froze, “One of them is a decoy attack.”
“Which way do we go, sir?”
Frost ground his teeth. He needed more information. Either attack could be the actual. “All personnel, hold your positions. Let me know if they attacks in overwhelming force.”
One or the other was a decoy. Which one?
He looked over at his group, “We wait, until we know where we’re needed.”
***
Mel smiled as Roush scowled. “Bad news?”
He grunted, “They’re attacking from both sides. One side’s a feint, the other is the real attack. Colonel’s holding his position till they commit themselves.”
“Oh,” Mel said. That didn’t sound good.
“They didn’t have much of a chance, not after your brother intercepted the message. Either they give up and pull back now that they’ve seen we’re waiting, or they attack and get slaughtered,” Roush said.
Mel didn’t say anything. She listened to the gunfire. Single shots, fired by each side now. Neither group could afford to waste ammunition.
Mel tugged at the rope that held her wrists. She wished now she hadn’t been so helpful to Swaim when he tied her; now would have been a great time for her to get free and attack Roush. She ground her teeth, patience gone. “What’s happening now?”
Roush shook his head, listening. “They’re still holding their positions. The colonel doesn’t know which side to reinforce.” He scowled: “Bunch of unprofessionals. They obviously don’t know what they’re doing.”
She closed her eyes. She pictured Stasia or Marcus wounded, dying for her. She wondered if Brian had decided to help, and shook her head. Why had they come? They’ll die, and it’s my fault. Why do I ruin everything?
“Do you hear that?” Swaim asked. He moved over to stand near her.
“What, the gunfire?” Roush asked.
“No… it sounds like hissing.”
“Hissing?” Roush asked. He frowned and looked around. “I don’t hear—”
Mel screamed as part of the wall next to her abruptly exploded away, followed by a hail of debris and a roar of wind.
Swaim clutched at the rack and flailed, one of his legs catching Mel in the stomach. Roush shouted something and pointed at the doors. The blast doors slammed closed and threw the room into darkness. She tucked her head against her shoulder.
She couldn’t get her visor down. As the compartment depressurized, she’d die.
Release the air in my lungs, she thought, I can survive a few more seconds that way.
The hurricane of wind died as the last bit of air rushed out, and she struggled to keep calm.
A bright flare of light flashed from beyond the hole.
***
“What the hell?” Frost spun around as a vortex of air spun through the chamber, turning just in time to see the blast doors of the bomb magazine slam shut.
He pushed himself off, as Rawn reached it first and slammed his fists into the unyielding metal.
“Th
ey’ve killed her. They’ve killed my sister.”
He listened, and as he suspected, he heard the sound of gunfire trickle off. Frost couldn’t help his lip from curling.
“No,” he said, his voice full of anger, “they outsmarted us. The attacks were feints. They weren’t coming through the ship.”
“What?”
Colonel Frost shook his head: “They’re out on the hull.”
***
Mel shook her head. Bob held his pistol at the ready, braced against a rack. Marcus cut the rope that bound her to the rack. He touched his helmet against hers,
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Mel.”
“Me scare you?” she demanded. “You nearly killed me with that stunt!”
He chuckled, then pulled his helmet away. He nodded at Bob, who cocked his pistol.
She pushed off, grabbed his wrist. He looked at her in confusion.
Mel shook her head, touching her helmet to his: “That one is Frost’s second in command. He might know something useful. The other one’s just a kid, a programmer they hired. Let’s take them with us.”
“We have to go out the way we came, Mel,” Bob said. “We’ve got a hundred meters of hull to cross. If one of them decides to make a fight out there…”
Mel pulled back and then shrugged. Bob grimaced behind his faceplate.
Marcus passed her a pistol, then gestured for their two prisoners to move through the hole. Evidently, he was going along with her decision.
Bob followed Swaim and Roush through the hole. Mel prepared to go after them, but Marcus grabbed her by the shoulder. He seized her right hand and gave it a squeeze; she responded with a slight smile. She couldn’t manage more, not yet.
He let her go; she climbed through the hole and froze in wonder.
The vast dome of the warp bubble rose above her, fluorescing with a hundred colors. The dull gray hull of the ship glowed with its reflection. It was beautiful, and it was terrifying. She’d seen it before, from inside a cockpit, but this… this seemed far more personal.
