Breakout

by David Ryker

  “We have access to much more than that. We have entire worlds.”

  “Begin docking procedure,” said the computer voice as the Raft pulled toward the huge bay door in the side of the station opening in front of them.

  “None of that will happen if we stop you,” Quinn said.

  Sloane’s eyes darkened. “If you attempt to impede our progress, we will kill you.”

  Before Schuster could answer him, Quinn said: “I guess you have to do what you’re going to do. We won’t get in your way.”

  Sloane rose from his seat with the container and clomped his way toward the hatch that led to the Raft’s bridge. The ship’s nose was now caught in a magnetic lock with the station so that it could be automatically guided into the bay.

  Quinn released his own boot magnets and ordered Bishop to take Sally’s feet as he took her shoulders. Her body slowly descended as the station’s artificial gravity kicked in, until they were carrying her. The bodies of Keiko, Miko and Boychuk, which had been floating around the bay, dropped unceremoniously to the floor. The tech drones paid them no mind as they released themselves and lined up single-file behind Sloane.

  A panel above the exit door turned green to indicate that the ship was secure and the door closed behind it. A gangplank extended from a platform toward the ship, giving them a walkway to the airlock beyond.

  “This is the way it must be,” Sloane said with a final look over his shoulder. Quinn thought he might actually see some regret in the man’s eyes.

  “All things must be as they must be,” Sally rasped, startling Quinn. Until that point, he assumed she was either dead or unconscious. Her face was still ghostly pale under her helmet’s faceplate.

  “The first thing we must do is get you to the infirmary,” he said.

  They heard a series of blips over their headsets that indicated the others were now in the airlock and had removed their helmets, taking them out of the radio conversation.

  With that out of the way, Quinn faced his men and snarled.

  “And after that, we must stop those motherfuckers,” he growled. “By any means necessary.”

  In his arms, he heard Sally sigh softly. “Oorah.”

  31

  A lightning bolt of adrenaline coursed through Chelsea as a hand clamped over her mouth. She gasped through her nose, trying to get enough air to fight both the panic that was threatening to rise in her and the ropy arm that was currently wrapped around her throat.

  “Doc, shhh,” her attacker whispered in her ear. Her heart leapt a little as she recognized Ulysses’ voice. She nodded and he let her go.

  They were around the bend from the corridor that passed the cells where the Saints were yelling. He had stopped her from entering and pulled her back to the area out of sight of the inmates.

  “Sorry I had to do that,” he said. “But you cain’t go in there, Doc. The guards is monitorin’ all the cells, but they ain’t botherin’ with the other corridors.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I been doin’ recon, like I said. What happened with Maggott?”

  “It’s a long story, but Maggott is all right. Ulysses, we have to stop Kergan and the rest of them. I know this sounds ridiculous, but they really are trying to take over the station.”

  “Yeah, guess I cain’t not believe that anymore,” he said. “Specially after what I saw on the bridge.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Oberon One’s bridge was rarely used, since its main function was to maintain the station’s orbit and that was done almost entirely by computer.

  “Why, what’s going on up there?” she asked.

  “That’s what I was gonna tell ya; all of ‘em are there now. The guards, the cooks, even Farrell’s there wanderin’ around, twitchin’ like a cross-eyed cat. Only ones I didn’t see was Kergan and Ridley, and the techs that work with Sloane, cuz they was on the surface with Quinn and crew.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Chelsea. “What are they all doing?”

  “Nothin’. They rounded up all the inmates and herded ‘em into their cells, then they all buggered off up to the bridge. Now they’re jes sittin’ there with their faces hangin’ out. Couple of ‘em are keepin’ an eye on the cells in the bridge’s monitors, but that’s all.”

  “How did you find this out? You can’t access the bridge area without a guard.”

  “Didn’t need to access nothin’, jes needed this.” Ulysses grinned and held up the arm that had been around her throat, showing a guard’s wristband attached. “I filched it off’n Tait when we knocked him out and used him to break into the restricted area. Already had his code punched in an’ everythin’. I been usin’ it to tap in to the cameras all over the station. That’s how I knew where they are, and that they’re only payin’ attention to the cells.”

  “So you pulled me back—”

  “Cuz you were ‘bout to walk right into their line o’ sight. And, no offense, Doc, but if them Saints in there had seen you, things mighta got ugly. Anyone not in a prisoner jumpsuit right now is the enemy.”

  Chelsea nodded. “Understood. First order of business, we need to get Maggott out of the Can.”

  Ulysses responded with a hard glare. “Look, Doc, I like you n’all, but let’s get sump’n straight: I ain’t takin’ orders from nobody, least of all someone with a SkyLode badge on their uniform. That clear?”

  She couldn’t argue—if she were him, she wouldn’t trust her, either, given the circumstances.

  “You’re right,” she said. “What do we do first?”

  He frowned. “Get Maggott out. But not ‘cuz you said so.”

  “Perish the thought.”

  Getting into the solitary area was a hell of a lot easier than it had been for Chelsea to get out. Tait’s stolen wristband was easily able to open the door, since it didn’t lead to a guards-only area of the station.

  “We have to expect they’re going to notice that’s missing eventually,” Chelsea said as the door slid open.

  “Yeah, but ah’m gonna make sure I get plenty o’ miles on it before then.” Ulysses grinned.

  She looked through the opening to see Maggott hunched in a fighting stance on the other side, his football-sized fists cocked on either side of his head. Then he realized who they were and rushed out into the corridor to join them.

  “I knew ye could do it, Doc!” he beamed, giving her a bone-cracking squeeze.

  “I learned from the best,” she gasped.

  Ulysses seemed unsure of what to say as Maggott set her down.

  “Look, uh, Maggott,” he said. “What you did back there, y’know, takin’ the hit fer me, that was stand-up. I dunno what happened to y’all, but whatever it was sounded pretty rough. You ever need anythin’ from the Saints, it’s yours, y’hear?”

  Maggott grinned and chucked him on the shoulder, knocking him off balance.

  “Ye gunna cry on me next, ye wee ponce? Let’s get the hell outta here b’fore the guards come waltzin’ in.”

  “What do we do next?” Chelsea asked.

  “What’s our status, Ulysses?” asked Maggott. “I been a wee bit outta things.”

  Ulysses called up the display on Tait’s device. He used it to tap in to the video feeds throughout the station as he brought Maggott up to speed. Essentially, it boiled down to guards being on the bridge and inmates in their cells, seething about it. There were no cameras in the bridge, so it was impossible to know what was going on there.

  “Wait,” he said suddenly. “Lookie there.”

  He called up the feed that showed the hangar bays. Three people in environment suits were carrying another into the corridor that attached to the airlock outside the bay.

  “That’s the captain!” Maggott crowed. “They’re back from th’ surface! But who’s the one they’re carryin’?”

  “The suit is smaller than theirs,” said Chelsea. “A woman, possibly.”

  “Ulysses, can ye tap into their helmet radios on that contraption?”

&nbs
p; He fiddled with it for several moments as they watched the foursome moving through the hall.

  “Wait, where’s Sloane and the others that went down with them?” she asked.

  “Cain’t tell what frequency they’re on. I don’t wanna start babblin’ on the radio and wake up the bridge.”

  Maggott pointed a sausage finger at the interface. “This green line shows the traffic on each channel. There’s only one thas’ movin’.”

  The more time she spent with Maggott, the more impressed she was with him and his abilities. She was beginning to think that, if Quinn was half the man Maggott seemed to believe he was, they might just get out of this alive.

  “Yo, Quinn,” Ulysses said quietly into the receiver on his wrist.

  The lead person in the video feed looked up but kept his hands on the woman’s shoulders.

  “Ulysses? Is that you?”

  “Yeah-bob! Who y’all carryin’?”

  “Senpai Sally; she’s hurt bad. How did you get a radio?”

  “Long story. What happened to Sally?”

  “Longer story. We need to get her to Chelsea Bloom in the infirmary as soon as we can.”

  “Quinn, it’s Bloom,” said Chelsea. “I’m with Ulysses and Maggott. I can meet you there. Is she conscious?”

  “No. Put Maggott on.”

  Chelsea watched as the trio continued through the corridor and reached the central zero-G tube. It would make it easier for them to carry Sally up to the infirmary level.

  “Maggott here, sir.”

  “Report.”

  “All th’ guards are holed up on the bridge. All the inmates are locked in their cells. I dinna know what Kergan and his crew are planning, but whatever it is, everyone else on this tub is a settin’ dook.”

  “Copy that. Sloane and his drones are probably there by now with the element we dug out. Sloane said something about using it. Whatever is happening, it’s going to happen soon, and it’s serious shit. There are three dead bodies in that Raft we left behind, including Boychuk, and Sloane didn’t appear to give a shit.”

  Ulysses was shaking his head. “Then what are we s’posed to do about it? We ain’t got no weapons, and everyone on our side is locked up.”

  “Are you asking me to take point on this, Ulysses?” There was no sarcasm that Chelsea could detect in Quinn’s voice. He was asking a genuine question.

  “Yeah, I guess I am,” Ulysses sighed. “Only cuz I ain’t got no army background.”

  “Marine!” cried the voices of all four Jarheads in unison.

  “Whatever! Just shout yer orders and I’ll folla. But if’n I think it’s a stupid order, yer gonna hear ‘bout it.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” said Quinn. “And as for not having any weapons, you’re using one as we speak. We have to put that guard’s wristband to full use until they figure out they need to shut it off.”

  Chelsea already felt exponentially better than she had even an hour earlier; they had a plan now, or at least the germ of one. It was enough to keep her going.

  But as she and her two companions headed toward the central tube to rendezvous with the others at the infirmary, she found herself praying to whatever entity might be listening that there was some spare luck floating around that they might be able to use.

  32

  “The element. At last.”

  Kergan’s voice was hushed, almost reverent, as Sloane laid the container on the floor of the bridge in front of him. Like most of the spaces on Oberon One, the bridge was curved, with work terminals set into the walls. It was rarely used, except for maintenance, but was large enough to accommodate all of the station’s forty guards at once.

  Sloane saw they were all still in varying stages of attenuation. He hadn’t been sure if the wave activated on the surface would be able to reach orbit and affect the ones here the way it had Boychuk, but it appeared not. Attenuation waves did weaken over distance, he knew, but having direct access to the element was an unknown factor in the situation. The collective knowledge he had access to had no experience with humans on which to draw, so in many ways he was flying blind.

  And, of course, his vessel wasn’t making things any easier.

  Don’t put this all on me, Sloane’s mind said within their shared consciousness. You know I can’t stop you from doing anything.

  No, but you can make me feel, and it is distracting.

  “Why did you need us all here?” asked Kergan, forcing Sloane to focus on the outside world. “I believe I’ve been here maybe four times in the two years I’ve been on Oberon One.”

  “Two reasons,” said Sloane. “First, we need to have the guards in one location when the amplifier is activated. Second, I needed direct access to the station’s reactor in order to get the volume of power needed for activation.”

  “I was wondering what that was,” said Iona Ridley, pointing at a device atop one of the wall work stations. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  There’s a shock, said the voice in Sloane’s mind. She has no idea how anything works unless it has a trigger.

  A soft, snorting laugh escaped Sloane, and his passenger clamped down on it immediately. He had been feeling far too much on the journey back from the surface, possibly because of the proximity of the element, but it had to stop. This was what the humans called “crunch time.”

  Kergan raised an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

  “It is of no consequence.” Sloane lifted a chunk of the element from the box and held it in his hand. It gave off enough light to bathe the entire bridge in white. He noticed some of the guards twitching furiously, as if they had stepped on live wires.

  The device was a sleek rectangular box, low and wide, with an opening about a quarter-meter square in the top. Sloane gently placed the element inside the opening, which prompted the rest of the device to glow in synch with it. Then he attached a thick cable from an outlet in the floor to a magnetic port on the side. A distinct thrumming was not so much audible but tangible throughout the entire bridge now.

  “Ngghhh.”

  Sloane saw Iona Ridley place her hands on either side of her head. Her face had twisted into a grimace.

  “What’s happening to me, Butch?” she groaned.

  “The element has an effect in its raw form, even when not directed by us towards attenuation,” said Sloane.

  “Shut up!” she shrieked. “I’ll kill you! You think you’re so smart!”

  “This is distressing to her,” said Kergan. “Deactivate the amplifier for a moment. We need to discuss something.”

  Sloane had felt the mental bond he shared with Kergan fraying over the past twenty-eight hours, and he was now at the point where he could no longer read any of the man’s thoughts.

  I bet you could if you really wanted to, his inner voice jeered. But you don’t want to, do you? I don’t blame you.

  “We must proceed now,” he said, ignoring them both. “The process has taken too long already. There are too many variables on this station to risk postponing the process any longer. Once attenuation is achieved, I can set to work using these vessels to process the element and begin constructing the necessary technology for our next step.”

  “But there are still a lot of questions,” said Kergan. He stepped toward Sloane and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was the first time the two men had ever touched.

  “There are no questions,” said Sloane.

  “How many will die?” Kergan asked. “We have seen several already.”

  “It is of no consequence.”

  Liar! the voice inside him crowed.

  “It depends on who it is,” said Kergan. “I don’t care if any of the prisoners die, obviously. But Iona is useful to me. And Sean, well…”

  He glanced over at the warden, who sat cross-legged on the floor, rocking back and forth. His cheeks were covered with a week’s worth of silver stubble and drool was running from the corners of his mouth.

  “Sean is very entertaining. I wish to keep th
em both as they are. And then there’s Chelsea, the medical officer. Her father is one of the rulers of their planet. We could have a great deal of fun with her before the invasion.”

  “Entertainment is irrelevant! Only attenuation is relevant!”

  Kergan flinched at Sloane’s outburst. “You need to calm down. Your emotions are getting the better of you.”

  “My emotions?” Sloane’s passenger felt himself fighting laughter again. “You are constantly giving in to the basest desires of your vessel!”

  “Shut up,” Ridley warned. She still looked like she was nursing a headache even now that the amplifier was idle.

  “Is that such a bad thing?” asked Kergan. “It is so very amusing here. Once they are all fully attenuated or dead, it will only be you and me until the next phase of the invasion begins.” He frowned. “I don’t think I could handle the boredom.”

  “Boredom is of no consequence. Only subjugation. Only the biological imperative.”

  “You know,” said Kergan, “all of the species we attenuate have a very different definition of the biological imperative.” He leered and mimed intercourse. “You should try it. Ridley here would do it with you.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” she sneered. “I’ll kill him, though.”

  “Enough!” Kergan snapped. “I can no longer listen to your whining, Iona! You need to stop this obsessive behavior.”

  Sloane felt welcome relief, but his mental roommate said: I don’t think you understand what he’s going to do.

  Quiet, he said back. I do not understand what brought you so far to the forefront, but I will force you back if I need to.

  No, you won’t. You’ve been allowing me to come forward so I can help you understand what’s going through your mind—our mind—for the last little while.

  Sloane didn’t have time to consider that because the next thing he knew, Kergan was hauling the guard named Holden over to Ridley. Holden seemed barely able to walk, and his eyes wandered around the room.

  “Do it and get it over with,” said Kergan. “Maybe then my colleague and I can have a conversation in peace.”