Prison Ship (20 page)

On the proximity sensor display, the procession of eight warriors followed the main corridor toward the center of the station. Tramer stayed right behind the leaders, Rex and Bo, while the five others brought up the rear.

Hot breath prickled the hairs on the back of Steiner’s head. He glanced over his shoulder and found Simmons staring at the displays. The navigator smiled innocently and backed away while Steiner glared at him.

Returning his attention to the monitors, Steiner saw the scenes jerk and twist as Tramer searched for hidden traps and surveillance devices.

A rifle blast blazed to the right. Shouts rang out, distorted by the monitor’s speakers.

Steiner drummed his fingers, wanting to be in the action—to be in control. He remembered the old days aboard the
Valiant
, leading missions like this. Would McKillip have hidden himself in the command center while his men risked themselves in a dangerous mission? What would he have thought of the captain then?

Two more bolts fired, followed by a scream. The image panned toward three people, holding their hands up, white with fear. A howl echoed from an adjoining passageway.

Tramer signaled Pattie to round up the prisoners and lock them together in a single room. The view bounced as Tramer raced after the rest of the raiders down a side corridor.

Steiner examined his pistol. It would be completely useless against the raiders’ heavy body armor.

There was too much at stake on this battle. Surely, the convicts would understand that. Their lives were at risk, too.

He stood up and descended the stairway toward the exit.

“What are you doing?” Mason shouted.

“I’m going aboard the space station.”

“Don’t get killed. It took a lot of effort to get this far.”

As Steiner pressed the correct series of keypads, the twin doors slid open. He knew that this might be a foolish move on his part. The first rule of chess was to protect your king, but he had seen some players use it very effectively in checkmating their opponents.

Steiner jogged the rest of the way to the air lock, slowed his pace, and entered the space station. The bloody remains of the die-hard defender lay slumped against the wall, the burnt flesh still smoking. Steiner’s stomach tightened against the stench. He forced himself to look away as he passed the body.

Shouts echoed through the deserted station.

Steiner’s heartbeat pounded in his head. Mason’s warning returned to haunt his thoughts. Was he doing this only for his pride?

He took careful steps forward, his hand brushing a still-warm blast hole in the bulkhead. The stutter of an assault rifle came from ahead. A howl pierced his ears.

Steiner flattened himself against the wall as two raiders clambered through a junction twenty feet away.

“Cease firing.” Tramer’s voice echoed from somewhere ahead.

Steiner inched up to the junction, his ears straining for any approaching raiders. His fear made him feel almost desperate to leave, but he forced himself to stand firm.

“Captain?”

Steiner twisted about.

Pattie stepped out from the shadows near the room where the captives were being held. “What in the name of the Blessed Virgin are you doin’ here?”

“This is my mission. I want to be here.”

“What? Are you planning on using that hard head of yours to beat down a door or something? Get outta here before one of my men gets any ideas.”

“I thought you trusted these guys.”

“Oh, I do. I trust them to stomp on any Separatist’s head, but they’re just convicts. Even I’ve heard about the bounty on you. There is talk that freedom might be attached to it—which is a phony, I’m sure—but when you got nothin’ to lose, it starts to look temptin’.”

“I can’t win their respect, hiding in the command center. It only encourages more rumors—rumors of cowardice. Those are most dangerous of all.”

Pattie growled in frustration. “Well … yes, I have heard them say—okay, fine. Stay near me. I’ll keep ’em off your back while you strut around lookin’ tough.”

Tramer approached from behind Pattie, holding his face shield in one hand. “Captain,” he said with a scolding tone.

“Was the planetary base alerted to our presence?” Steiner asked.

“Bricket succeeded in jamming the satellite’s transmissions,” Tramer answered.

“Have you discovered any information about the ground base, like where it’s located?”

“Yes. I’ll brief you later on the ship.”

“My place is here, Mr. Tramer,” Steiner replied. “Let’s take a look at that information now.”

The weapons officer remained motionless.

“I don’t like it either, Maxie,” Pattie said. “But some of the lads have begun to think of him as cowardly. I can watch his back.”

Tramer’s sensor orb shifted to the Saint for a moment, then returned to Steiner. “The command deck is in this direction.” Motors hummed as the weapons officer turned and led the way down a passageway. Calling Midas over to watch the prisoners, Pattie followed behind Steiner.

Upon reaching the command deck, the weapons officer showed Steiner a layout of the surface installation on a computer screen. On the largest island, the base was built in a deep canyon, with fortifications on all the surrounding ridges. A mined jungle hemmed it in on all sides, making a ground attack impossible. If the
Stormquest
tried any bombing runs, the heavy artillery on the encompassing bluffs would shoot it down before it succeeded in hitting anything.

Mason had been right. The place was a fortress. Maybe it didn’t have a flaw.

“Skyport, this is Landbase, requesting a routine check,” a voice said. “Please respond.”

Steiner’s heart stopped. Had they come so far only to be stopped? His eyes locked with Tramer’s. What were they going to do? Someone had to respond.

“Stans, where the heck are you?” the voice repeated. “If you left your post again, the commander will put you on report.”

Tramer moved to the communication console and opened the channel to the base. Instead of speaking, he scraped his metallic fingers against the microphone.

Steiner froze, uncertain of what the weapons officer was doing.

Faint voices and laughter echoed down the corridor from some approaching raiders. If they were heard—

Steiner rushed to the entrance of the passageway. Rex and Bo, rifles slung over their shoulders, stopped cold at the sight of their captain.

Pattie shushed them, pointing toward Tramer. The weapons officer continued to scrape at the microphone a few seconds more, then stopped and closed the channel.

“What’s going on?” Rex asked.

Tramer’s torso spun around on the pivot at his hips. “We were almost discovered because of your foolishness.”

Rex stiffened. “We just came to inform you that the station has been secured.”

“Both of you boys, stand guard at the air lock,” Pattie bellowed. “Make certain we aren’t disturbed by anyone else. Off with you now.”

Both raiders nodded and left.

Steiner looked at the weapons officer, trying to ignore his unnatural positioning. “What did you do with your fingers that caused them to stop their transmissions?”

Tramer’s torso pivoted back to normal. “I simulated the sound of a damaged communication array. They may have been temporarily deceived by it. We should find the man they requested.”

Pattie hummed. “ ‘ Stans,’ they said, didn’t they? I think I know which of the prisoners that might be. Short, little guy, a bit hardheaded. He tried to reach for the controls …”

“You killed him?” Steiner gasped.

“Nay, I didn’t have to. I kicked the puny runt halfway across the room.”

“He’s okay, then.”

“Yah, banged up a bit, but he’s fine.” Pattie frowned. “He’s a determined little guy. I just don’t think he’ll help us.”

Steiner thought about it, then noticed the face shield in the weapons officer’s hand. “Stans hasn’t seen Tramer’s face yet, has he? I’ve got an idea how we might enlist his help.” He smiled up at Tramer. “Have you ever played poker?”

Tramer looked bewildered. “No.”

“Want give it a try right now?”

Both Tramer and Pattie listened as Steiner explained his plan.

Pattie broke into a laughing fit, slapping his knee in delight. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Accessing the station’s personnel files and finding a picture of Second Lieutenant Stans Holtzman, Steiner confirmed that the man was the same one Pattie suspected. They proceeded to the room where the prisoners were being held. Whenever another raider appeared, Pattie would banter with him about their successful mission, while positioning himself as a shield between him and Steiner. When they reached the room, the weapons officer entered alone and dragged out a screaming man. Pattie snickered as he watched Tramer lock the struggling man in an empty storage chamber.

“Very good choice, Maxie. I couldn’t have done better.”

“Was Mr. Holtzman in the room with the other prisoners?” Steiner asked.

“Against the far wall,” Tramer replied.

Steiner smiled. “Good. Give me five minutes with Holtzman, then make your entrance.”

The weapons officer nodded once.

Steiner composed himself as he headed back to the room. His performance had to be convincing if their charade had a chance of working.

“This will be beautiful.” Pattie’s smile disappeared into a phony angry expression. “Go get ’em.”

Steiner burst into the room, finding Holtzman where Tramer said he would be. “You in the corner,” he said, motioning at his quarry. “Step outside.”

Stans Holtzman stood up hesitantly, a bruise on his swelling forehead, and followed him out of the room. Upon seeing Pattie, the man’s countenance tightened.

“Sorry about that lad,” the Saint said. “It could have been far worse—if the Killer Cyborg had gotten ahold of you.”

“Is that what it was?” Holtzman asked.

“Don’t worry—he’s a little busy at the moment,” Steiner said. “I need you to call the ground base for me.”

Holtzman looked away defiantly.

Steiner rubbed his forehead. “I don’t want to see the orgy of slaying that occurred at the previous outpost we raided.”

Pattie crossed himself with his left hand. “God have mercy on their souls.”

“If you don’t help me, that
thing
will butcher everyone here, including you,” Steiner said. “That last man refused to cooperate.” He shook his head sadly. “I wish he had.”

“That robot thing killed Marco?” Holtzman asked, his voice trembling.

Steiner almost pitied the poor man. “It seems to love murdering,” he said. “You should have seen the massacred bodies it left behind at the last place we raided. None of them would help us. Please, I’m begging you. For your sake, help me.”

Precisely on cue, Tramer appeared in the doorway, blood smeared all over his breastplate and arms from the dead man at the entrance to the station. He gave a cold, heartless stare at Holtzman. Steiner remembered his own terror at seeing the weapons officer for the first time, but that sight paled in comparison.

“I’ll help you … help …” Holtzman choked on the words in his hurry to get them out.

It worked,
Steiner thought, trying to contain his excitement. Pattie led the way toward the command deck. Steiner escorted the shivering lieutenant to the communication console.

Holtzman looked back at the cyborg.

“It’s all right,” Steiner assured him. “He won’t hurt you as long as you obey me.” He placed his hand on the controls for the communication device. “I want you to tell Landbase that a meteor damaged your communication array. Apologize for the delay in transmitting a response to their voice check.”

Their prisoner nodded. Steiner opened the channel.

“Landbase,” Holtzman said with a slight hesitation. “This is Skyport, acknowledging your voice check.”

“Stans, what happened up there?”

Holtzman glanced back at the cyborg, his hands trembling. “Sorry about the delay.” His voice cracked. “A meteor damaged our communication array.”

“If you require any additional parts, just send Marco down here in a shuttle.”

Steiner exchanged glances with Tramer. This might be the flaw they sought. He closed the channel briefly and turned to their captive. “Tell them Marco will be right down.”

Holtzman did as he was instructed, forcing the words out quickly, then signed off.

“Thank you, lad,” Pattie said, taking Stans by the shoulder. “You’ve been a big help.” He led the captive back toward the holding room, leaving Steiner and Tramer alone.

“Do you think our deception worked?” Steiner asked.

“Possibly,” the weapons officer said, blood still oozing from his breastplate. “I did not detect any hidden messages, but that doesn’t mean anything. Stans Holtzman spoke with very little inflection. The people on the other end might suspect he had been coerced.”

“Are you suggesting we shouldn’t go through with this?”

“If the base has been alerted to our presence, it’s already too late to run. We have no other choice but to attack.”

Tramer was right once again. If the fighters didn’t get them, the outpost could contact Separatist battlecruisers to intercept them before they could get out of enemy space.

“I want to go down with the attack force,” Steiner said.

“That would not be wise.”

“I’ll take the risk. Besides, if this mission fails, we’ll probably all die anyway. I want to be there in the middle of it.”

“What if one of the convicts tries to assassinate you?”

“I doubt anyone will risk anything behind enemy lines. They need me to get them back alive.”

The weapons officer paused for a heartbeat. “Very well. Stay behind the attack team.”

Steiner nodded wordlessly. He thought that was a reasonable request. Why risk himself by being out in front? At least he would be there when the computers were accessed.

Moving closer to one of the viewports, which overlooked the planet below, Steiner considered what they were about to do. It seemed too incredible. A bunch of convicts were about to attempt the impossible, to raid Hurot IV.

ALONE inside the control booth of the Skyport’s shuttle bay, Steiner put on his body armor. Tramer had insisted that he be separated from the rest of the raiders until the launch. Through a giant window, Steiner half watched Rex, Bo, and Midas strip the furnishings from the tiny craft they would soon use as a Trojan horse. He wondered if the sixteen raiders Tramer wanted to take would fit inside the barren shell.