The Last Flight of the Argus (37 page)

“
You tell me.”

“
The only reason to go all out back then would be to…to make them
think
we wanted to capture them.”

“
The best way to do that was to have you pilots think the same. We held you back as best as we could, but without being too obvious.”

“
We were ordered to stick close to the
Dakota
after she sustained her damage. Is she..?”

“
She's damaged all right, but it proved a good excuse to hold you back nonetheless.”

“
And calling us in for that meeting and forcing us to use the Breadcrumbs at the expense of our best offensive weaponry, it was all part of your plan?”

Richard Loo nodded.

“
If you don't want them captured, what do you want?”

“
Come on, Theodore. That should be obvious.”

“
Where...where are they leading us?”

“
That information will come. In time.”

Theodor took a sip of the nutria-drink and winced.

“
Gods,” he muttered. He put the cup down and gave his taste buds a few seconds to recover. “There’s nothing out here but rocks and twisted metal, nothing worth bringing in a battleship and its full complement of fighters. Or is there?”

Richard Loo folded his arms.

“
As I said, the information will come. In time.”

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

B’taav
awoke to the sound of a persistent buzz over the intercom. His limbs were stiff from lying in the cramped quarters assigned to him. The buzzing continued for what seemed like an eternity.

B’taav sat up. He took a quick glimpse at the door leading out of his room and found it closed.

Locked, too
, he thought.

The Independent stepped into the bathroom. He ran water in the faucet and sprayed it on his face. When he was done, he looked in the mirror and sighed.

It had been a little over a week and a half since Nathaniel killed Kaspar and nearly did the same to both Maddox and he. Since then, tensions grew aboard the
Xendos
. In part it was due to the child and his actions, in part it was the monotony of flying around the asteroid fields all this time. Regardless, the anticipation everyone felt about searching for the
Argus
was tempered by the reality of the enormous area they had to explore and the fact that they were flying blind without full use of their sensor equipment. Even though they hadn’t seen any sign of Daniels’ fighters, they still dared not fully use that particular piece of equipment, for fear of revealing their location.

The ship’s passengers, for the most part, kept to themselves in their quarters, as if hiding from either B’taav or Inquisitor Cer or the remaining Mercs. Perhaps they understood it was best not to interfere.

During B’taav’s pilot shifts, either Balthazar or Melchor escorted the Independent. As sadistic and loudmouthed as Melchor was, he was the less threatening of the remaining Mercs. Melchor was the type that let out his emotions, often very loudly. But once those energies were spent, he settled down and became almost friendly.

Balthazar, on the other hand, neither talked nor threatened his charge. Like Rasp, whenever he was around B’taav, he was completely silent. His cold blue eyes, however, never strayed far from his subject and his fingers gripped the trigger on his gun or rifle much tighter than Melchor ever did.

There was little doubt he would act decisively if provoked.

Ned Frasier often came by the cockpit to check on the progress of the
Xendos
and point out where either B’taav or Inquisitor Cer should take her during their shifts. He, more than any of the other passengers, kept track of the search for the
Argus
. Yet every time he examined the location estimates, estimates he made with his late wife, he fought off a creeping sadness.

At the end of his shift, B’taav made it a habit of looking in on Maddox. The man’s condition fluctuated wildly from day to day. Several days before, he developed a high fever and the odds of his surviving grew bleak. Somehow, he fought the fever off and two days after spiking it was gone. During the past couple of days his temperature was near normal. It was starting to look like he might survive the coming week, and B’taav grew cautiously optimistic he would beat the odds and survive until their return to
Titus
.

Should they ever return to
Titus
.

Ned Frasier proved to be the only other person who regularly visited Maddox. He too tried to be optimistic about his friend’s chances, but didn’t share B’taav’s glimmers of hope.

The Independent splashed some more water on his face. The steady buzz from the intercom continued to pester him, so the Independent stepped out of the bathroom and to the intercom’s speaker. He pressed a button next to the speaker and said, “Is this thing working?”

B’taav released the button and found the annoying buzz was gone. Over time, several non-essential systems on the
Xendos
had spontaneously come to life, like electronic ghosts rising from the grave. Perhaps the intercom was the latest of the lot.

The Independent dressed in a black suit and walked to the door leading out of his room. He knocked on it.

“
I’m ready to start my shift,” he said. He took a step back and waited for one of the two Mercs to let him out. After a few seconds, he knocked again. No answer.

“
Great,” he muttered.

B’taav walked to the intercom and pressed the switch. He was about to say something but held back. A frown appeared on his forehead and he hurriedly returned to the door. He listened for any sounds coming from the outside. There were none.

B’taav returned to his bed and lifted the mattress. Hidden beneath it was a pair of pliers, a screwdriver, and a computer pad. He hid them away several days before, when Melchor seemed particularly distracted. The tools could be used at any point, should the need arise, but B'taav spent much of his free time working on the computer pad. Only a couple of days before he had successfully entered his own lock picking program within it.

You never know when these things come in handy
.

B’taav approached his door and once again ran his hands along the paneling to its side. He used the screwdriver to cut through a piece of the plastic paneling and exposed a line of wires. He pulled the wires out and, after examining them, found the one he wanted. He used the pliers to cut two cables and shut the lights of his room off. B’taav then pressed the exposed metal from the wires into the computer pad's input slot. The lock picking program churned out a code and his door slid opened.

B’taav waited for one of the Mercs to come storming into the room, but no one did. Cautiously, the Independent looked out into the corridor while pocketing his tools.

There was no one outside.

B’taav exited his room. The other doors lining the corridor were closed and, upon closer examination, B’taav heard no sounds coming from them. An eerie silence filled the entire area. For a moment B’taav wondered if the rest of the passengers had somehow abandoned the Independent and the
Xendos
.

B’taav made it to the end of the corridor and stopped before the door to Francis Lane’s room. He pressed his ear against it and listened for several moments. As with the other doors, he heard nothing. B’taav worked the door’s keypad controls with the computer pad until it slid open.

B’taav remained in the corridor.

“
Ms. Lane?” he said. He received no answer.

The Independent cautiously stepped into the room and, after seeing no one was within, noted an enormous window on the opposite wall. Beyond it a series of dark asteroids tumbled away. Just below the window was a communication device and monitor.

“
They gave you the luxury suite,” B'taav muttered.

The Independent ignored the communication equipment and focused on the room’s other contents. Two small cots were lined up just under the window, their sheets ruffled. In the center of one of the beds was Nathaniel’s red ball. B’taav picked it up and unscrewed the top. The Project Geist memory cube was no longer inside.

B’taav laid the ball back on the bed and walked to the closet. Inside were two suitcases. B’taav opened the smaller one, but before he could examine its contents he heard a muffled sound coming from the hallway.

B’taav hurriedly rose and ran back into the hallway. B’taav opened the door to the room next to Francis Lane’s. It was Stephen Gray’s room, but there was no sign of him within. The room next door was Saro Triste’s. B’taav found no one inside that room, either.

B’taav fought off a growing unease. Each of his silent footsteps roared in his ears.

After he passed Saro Triste’s room he stopped. The regular humming of the
Xendos’
engines, a sound he had grown accustomed to, grew muted.

The ship was slowing down.

Had the engines malfunctioned? No. Even if that was the case, it didn’t explain where everyone was.

Could Daniels’ fighter craft have found and surrounded the
Xendos
? B’taav shook his head. He didn't see any Epsillon craft outside Francis Lane's window, and unless something radically changed, capture was impossible.

B’taav walked to the last door in the corridor, the one leading into Maddox’s room. As he did with the others, he pressed his ear against it and listened. B’taav heard soft, muffled sounds coming from within and detected the acrid smell of vomit.

B’taav accessed the control panel in the wall with his computer pad. Maddox’s door slid open.

The
Titus
bartender lay on his bed. His eyes were shut and his face had an unhealthy yellow pallor. Ned Frasier sat before Maddox. His face was ghost white and lifeless, even whiter than the usually immaculate clothing he wore. Vomit dripped from the edge of his mouth. On the floor before him was a puddle of the stuff. In his hands was an empty glass of some clear liquid.

Even from a few feet away, B’taav knew the man was dead. Poisoned.

A sharp sound came from the Independent’s left. Melchor stepped out of the bathroom. His hands were wet.

“
B’taav?” the Merc said. A vicious smile appeared on his face, revealing crooked teeth framed by thin lips. “Fancy meeting you here.” The smile broadened. “This is going to be fun.”

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

The
smile on Melchor’s face disappeared. He reached for the fusion gun in his belt.

B’taav didn’t wait for him to draw. He ran into the room, jumping past Frasier’s body and crashed headlong into Melchor. The Merc had over thirty kilograms of muscle over B’taav, and should have swatted the charging Independent aside. But when Melchor saw the Independent move, he took a step back and slipped on Frasier’s vomit. The gun in Melchor’s hand came up too high, and a single fusion blast hit the ceiling, burning a large hole into it.

B’taav slammed into Melchor and plowed the Merc into the bathroom. He fell hard on the bathroom floor and lost the grip on his fusion gun. It clanged against the metal sink and fell away.

Melchor ignored the lost weapon and reached for the Independent’s head while B’taav delivered a series of blows to the man’s stomach. B’taav pounded him as hard as he could, but the Merc’s light armor absorbed the brunt of the blows.

“
If that’s the best you can do…” Melchor taunted.

The Merc’s left hand grasped the back of B’taav’s head while his right hand savagely pummeled B’taav in the face.

“…
then this is going to be
real
fun.”

B’taav was groggy from the brutal punches. For a second he feared he would black out. But his instinct for self-preservation was strong and B’taav surprised Melchor by springing back and rolling away. Melchor’s hands, for the moment, grasped at air.

Melchor let out a roar. He had no intention of losing his prey. The Merc pulled himself into a crouch. The anger in his face abruptly turned to euphoria.

To his delight, the dumb bastard Independent was right there, just a couple of feet away. He could have run. He might even have escaped.

For a little while at least
, Melchor thought.

Instead, B’taav chose to stay where he was. A sadistic smile formed on Melchor’s face. He chose to stay right where—

The smile abruptly vanished when the Merc realized B’taav held his fusion gun.

It was the last thing he ever saw.

“
Wake
up,” the weak yet urgent voice said. It called B’taav out from under a blanket of darkness and into the light.

The Independent’s eyes fluttered open. He was in Maddox’s room. Lying beside him was Melchor’s corpse. Smoke emanated from the Merc’s neck. His entire head was vaporized.