Prison Ship (40 page)

“I don’t know, but I’ve seen him shooting in the targeting range.”

“Is he good?”

“Does it matter with weapons like theirs?”

On the screen, Julio stood up and spoke to the other men. When they started to leave the room, Julio looked up at the camera.

“Oh great,” Mason muttered. “He can see the red indicator light.”

An orange flare ignited from Julio’s assault rifle. The screen burst into static.

Mason exchanged a knowing glance with Bricket. The raiders would be coming to the command center next.

STEINER stood on one of the rungs inside a ladder well, just high enough to see above the floor of the upper level. When the lights came on, he had sought a hiding place. With his advantage gone, he would have to rely on surprise from there on. His muscles tightened when he heard voices. A glance down at his tracker found two men proceeding toward his location.

A nearby explosion rocked the area, followed by a howl. Steiner stole a peek around the corner and saw Rex launch a missile into a second cabin. The ladder vibrated under the violent force.

The two hunters appeared determined to disintegrate him rather than hunt for him. He aimed his rifle’s muzzle at the edge of the entrance to the well.

Bo appeared in his sights, but Steiner kept himself from firing because Rex remained out of range.

When Bo noticed him inside the well, he shouted and raised his weapon. Two of Steiner’s energy blasts tore through Bo’s exposed throat before he could fire. The man toppled back against the bloodstained wall behind him.

A venomous scream erupted from Rex.

Letting go of the ladder, Steiner fell down the well. The hiss of a missile launching sounded from above. Steiner tumbled to the floor of the bottom level and rolled away just before the tunnel above him burst into a roaring inferno. He looked up in time to see a backwash of fire proceeding down the chute. He shielded his face as it burst out from the well’s entrance. The searing wave swept over him. His skin burned with pain for a second, then the feeling mellowed.

When he lifted his head, he saw that his reddened flesh had first-degree burns—painful, but not serious.

The blackened well smoked. Smoldering metal cinders lay all about the floor amidst the remains of his assault rifle and tracker.

Steiner tried to stand up and winced from a sharp sting in his lower thigh. Blood oozed from where a charred fragment had embedded itself in the tissue.

Boots scraped against metal as Rex began to descend. A foot became visible from out of the roof of the entrance.

Ignoring the pain of his wound, Steiner catapulted himself up and ducked into the first open doorway, which turned out to be the utility closet.

Leaning against the inside wall, he realized the time had come for his suicide plan. He glanced down at the single grenade attached to his belt. His finger poised above the trigger.

Metal cinders ground outside in the hall.

“Captain,” Rex bellowed. “Come out and play with me. Maybe I’ll let you live.”

Play,
Steiner thought.
That’s it.

The yellow bruiseball helmet still lay in the corner of the closet. He snatched up the game prop, activated the grenade, and dropped it inside.

“I surrender,” he shouted, then stepped out of the closet and tossed the helmet to Rex.

The man’s bruiseball instincts seemed to take over. Lowering his missile launcher, Rex caught the prop with one hand. His eyes sparkled.

Steiner flung himself back into the doorway as a white-hot burst cut off a howl in midstride.

AFTER going back to get the laser cannon, Julio, Dicer, and the third man took five minutes to cut through the forward section’s pressure door. Mason kept an eye on them the entire time using the security monitors. Julio hadn’t shot out any more cameras even though he must have seen them active. Maybe he no longer cared whether they were watched or not.

Bricket sat quietly, savoring the last of his cigar.

Mason rubbed his face. How foolish he must have sounded when he told Bricket his family history.

On the monitor, the three raiders stepped through the burnt-out hole. Bricket grabbed his cane and lifted his body out of the chair. “Let’s get ready to show them our hand, shall we?”

With a nod of agreement, Mason followed him down the stairway to the sealed entrance. Bricket whistled as he entered the password into the control panel. The double doors split apart, both halves retreating into the bulkhead. Beyond them, in the middle of the corridor, stood Bricket’s secret weapon, right where they had left it.

Mason had to admit the idea had been a brilliant one, but at the same time, it seemed wasteful. His finger ran across the side of the six-foot-high storage container that housed eighty gallons of the bartender’s own brand of extrastrength beer. They had used an antigravitational truck to move it.

When Bricket removed the lid on top of it, the overpowering smell of alcohol escaped. The cigar smoke mixed with the aroma of strong liquor, reminding Mason of being back inside the bar. “I’ll bet you feel a little bit angry at having to use your stock like this,” he said.

Bricket blew several ringlets then smiled. “No, on the contrary, I’ve never felt more alive than I do now. No profit can ever top this. I’d rather die feeling like this than live as I did, in fear.”

When Mason saw the three raiders approaching, he pulled Bricket behind their secret weapon.

Julio halted the other two mutineers thirty feet away.

“Captain,” he shouted. “Give yourself up.”

“Wrong, Julio,” Mason answered back. “I’m not Steiner, and I don’t plan on surrendering either.”

“Mason?” the man exclaimed. “You can’t defeat us. Come out before we start firing.”

Bricket’s bearded mouth cracked into a giant toothy grin, curling the scar on his cheek. “Let’s give them Hell.”

Using the floating truck as a pivot, they put their backs against the container and pushed it over. A flood of liquor gushed down the passageway, steaming and bubbling like a brown river, and poured over the mutineers. Dicer and the other man slipped and tumbled under the flow, dropping their laser cannon. Julio kept his footing despite the rushing liquor flowing around his boots.

Bricket removed the cigar from his mouth and flaunted it at the victims. “Crown the new king of audacity.”

Julio turned and retreated, splashing through the ankle-deep liquor.

The smoldering cigar made an arch through the air and landed in the river. Flames burst out, racing down the corridor to engulf all three raiders. Dicer and the other man screamed as they struggled to get up from their fiery graves.

Bricket laughed gleefully.

A steady hum grew in intensity. Mason realized that the cannon must have charged itself when it struck the ground. The blaze would heat the core to overload.

“Let’s get out of here, your majesty.” He grabbed the bartender by the shirt, dragged him back beyond the entrance to the command center, then hit the keypad to seal it.

After the barriers on each side of the entry began to close, a flash of brilliant light shot through the shrinking aperture. Shrapnel pelted the outside of the doors as they sealed the center from the blast.

Out of breath, Mason turned to Bricket, sprawled out on the base of the stairway with a stunned look on his face.

“I guess it worked better than I had planned,” the bartender said, then chuckled. “That’ll teach them to mess with a crippled man.”

Mason replied with a weary nod.

DANTE examined the remains of an armor-clad person in the midst of a charred hallway outside a ladder well.

Seconds ago, he had heard another explosion coming from the forward section of the vessel and wondered what the other three raiders were doing up there. It didn’t matter, though, since it was obvious the captain had been here last.

A drop of blood near the utility closet caught his eye. Another one had fallen a few feet away from the first. He could barely contain his joy when he discovered a trail of them leading away.

Steiner must have been injured, making him an easier target.

He followed the path of droplets right up to the sealed door of port-side air lock. The neighboring cabinet stood ajar. One space suit was missing from the rack inside. When Dante activated the monitor for the inner lock, he saw stars glistening through the open outer hatch.

The captain must have escaped onto the exterior of the ship.

Dante grunted in frustration. He had been so close to capturing him, only to lose him again. Maybe he could go out there to find him?

Something moved in his peripheral vision. He spun around in time to see a space-suited figure reach out of the cabinet and press a keypad on the control panel for the air lock.

A shrill alarm pierced the stillness. The pressure doors to each of the adjoining passageways slammed shut. Dante raised his rifle at the figure, but an explosive burst of escaping air stole his attention away.

The inner hatch to the air lock cracked open. Dante cried out in terror. His finger tightened on the trigger of his rifle, searing the floor with bolts as his body was dragged toward the opening. A millisecond later, he was thrust into a never-ending darkness.

A gasp came from Spider, followed by a scream. Daniels turned in time to see his aide lose his grip on the hull. Spider drifted outward, stopping eight feet away, held back by the safety cord tied to his belt. His arms and legs swung about as if they were trying to break free from his torso.

“Stop struggling,” J.R. yelled out. “You might break the cord.”

Spider’s breathing became rapid and quick, signs of hyperventilation.

Using his arms, Daniels launched himself from the bulkhead. His right hand caught hold of Spider’s arm. He wrapped the left one around his friend’s body. He groped for the control box and lowered the oxygen content in Spider’s suit. Spider’s breaths became more regulated, but he continued to sob and thrash about.

“Stop it, or you’ll kill us both,” Daniels told him.

Spider seemed far too panicked to hear him. The cord wouldn’t hold much longer under this amount of stress.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” J.R. sang out.

Spider froze. His body began to relax.

“… that saved a wretch like me.”

Daniels turned and saw J.R. and the other three engineers drawing them toward the hull.

“I once was lost, but now am found,” Spider whispered along.

Tears clouded Daniels’s vision as he joined in. “… was blind, but now I see.”

Outstretched hands took hold of them and pulled them both to safety. For a long while, the engineers all huddled around Spider, holding him tight. J.R. asked the question that seemed to be haunting everyone’s mind.

“Spider, you were doing so well. What caused you to lose control?”

“I had a terrifying vision,” he answered. “I saw myself spinning off into space and realized that I had seen my own future.” Spider pointed toward the midsection of the port side. “I saw it over the port side.”

While the other engineers reassured their friend that he still lived, Daniels moved to a better vantage point to look down the side of the hull. What he saw there was an answer to prayer, an open airlock hatch.

“Spider,” he shouted. “You didn’t see your death. You saw our rescue.”

AFTER giving the area time to pressurize, Steiner removed his space suit and opened one of the adjacent doors, revealing an empty corridor.

He had no idea how many raiders were still searching for him. Six had been killed so far. That meant that there could still be fourteen others out there somewhere.

His eyes caught sight of a glowing red indicator from an active camera overhead. Did Bricket and Mason still hold the command center? Almost in answer to his unspoken question, the light flashed three times. It must be a signal from them that they were still entrenched up there. He smiled and responded with an upward thumb.

A blur rushed at him from an open doorway. Before he could react, the butt of a rifle struck against his side. A second hit to his back sent him sprawling against the cold floor. His body throbbed with intense pain from the blows. The blackened form of Julio Sanchez towered over him.

One energy bolt from the rifle ignited the camera into sparking debris.

Sanchez pressed the muzzle of his weapon hard into Steiner’s cheek. “I’d love to kill you, but an extra five thousand credits is too hard to pass up.”

STEINER limped through the main corridor leading toward the engine room. The wound in his thigh ached with each step. His hands were tied together behind his back with his own belt. It wasn’t too tight, though. If the opportunity presented itself, he might be able to twist free of it.

Steiner turned around and walked backward, facing into his captor’s rifle barrel, wrestling against the belt. “Quinn is a Separatist agent. After he is taken back to his empire, all of you will be kill—” Sanchez’s booted foot struck him in his gut. Steiner fell back on his struggling hands. He could feel both of them swelling,

“I’m sick of hearing your lies,” Sanchez hissed, then drew out an exquisitely crafted, jeweled knife. “Open your mouth again, and I’ll cut your tongue out.” He lifted Steiner to his feet and shoved him forward. “Move.”

Steiner staggered toward the burnt-out pressure door that led to the engine room. When he was about ten feet away, someone inside sighted him and called for Quinn. Steiner almost lost his balance as he tried to step through the jagged edges of the hole. Ten men, five armed with assault rifles, gathered around him. They hurled insults and threats as Steiner stumbled to the center of the room.

A wicked grin distorted Quinn’s face as he approached.

“It’s good to see you alive, Captain. I had feared that they would bring you back in small pieces.” He turned to Sanchez and extended his hand. “Good work, Julio.”

Sanchez glared back, wordlessly.

Quinn’s countenance grew colder. A long pause ensued as each of them stared the other down. Steiner used the distraction to continue to pry at his bonds.