Prison Ship (21 page)

Steiner stood up and tested his mobility within the suit. It had been such a long time since he had worn combat gear. His arms and legs moved too loosely within the padding. The sides of the plates scraped against each other as he reseated himself and began tightening the straps of his suit.

A series of tremors rumbled through the deck. The door to the booth slid open to reveal Tramer’s pale countenance and piercing orb. “It might not be wise to let Rick Mason fly the shuttle down.”

“Why? He’s the best pilot we have.”

“I agree,” Tramer said, with a certainty that startled Steiner. “His skills are too refined to have been self-taught.”

“What are you implying?”

“I believe he has served in the military.”

“No. He has no previous service record with the United Star Systems.”

“I didn’t say which military.”

Steiner stopped working with his suit. “Are you suggesting he might have been a Separatist?”

“That would explain the code he used and his extensive knowledge of this region of space.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. If he did steal the code like he said, he could’ve gone anywhere he wanted within the Separatist empire without detection.”

“Perhaps, but that wouldn’t account for his ability to skim the atmosphere. By his own words, he claimed to have used other spacecraft to accomplish the same maneuver. No cargo vessel would have survived. Only military fighters with defensive screens equal to ours could have attempted the maneuver.”

Steiner’s body began to feel sticky within the armor. “Even if your assumption is correct, he has proven his loyalty to us repeatedly.”

“Has he? He has done whatever was necessary to keep himself alive.”

“Why would he give us information about how to defeat the space station?”

Tramer didn’t answer. Steiner suspected he wouldn’t.

“He’ll pilot the shuttle down.”

“I’m bringing Julio Sanchez as a reserve pilot in case I am forced to eliminate him.”

Steiner jumped to his feet. “Mason will not die at your hands. For the mission, he will stay with me in the flank position. Is that understood?”

“Be wary of him.” Tramer turned, opened the door, and thumped away.

The entryway closed up, sealing Steiner in with his thoughts. His mind spun with the possibilities of Tramer hurting Mason, or Mason betraying them all. While at Atwood Penitentiary, Steiner had never heard Mason tell any stories about his life before becoming a smuggler. He had always thought it was because Mason’s earlier years were too dull to entertain a crowd, but what if the real reason was that he wanted to keep his past secret? What if he did have Separatist ties? No, there must be another explanation.

When the raiders finished removing all the unnecessary instrumentation, Tramer surveyed the barren shell of the shuttle, then ordered the rest of the assembled raiders to file in. Each man brought one assault rifle since there wasn’t enough room for any larger weapons.

Picking up his assault rifle, Steiner opened the door to the control room and stepped out. Pattie, standing behind the line of raiders, nodded an acknowledgment. Steiner smiled in response. When he noticed a medical kit slung around one of the armored warriors, he moved closer to that warrior and tapped him on his shoulder pads. The helmeted head twisted about, revealing J.R.’s face.

“Captain?” the assistant engineer said.

At the sound of the title, three raiders directly in front of them peeked behind them. Steiner recognized the startled faces of Henry Stiles, Digger, and Glenn Edwards.

“Is there a problem, boys?” Pattie shouted from the rear of the line.

They all shook their heads and faced back toward the open hatch of the shuttle, exchanging whispers with those in the front of them.

Attempting to project confidence, Steiner met each of the curious glances as word of his presence spread up the line. “I’m glad you’re coming even though you don’t have much combat experience.”

Being so vital to the ship’s operations, Steiner had never risked any of the engineers on a previous raid. Since Hurot IV would be their toughest challenge yet, he thought bringing J.R. for his medical training would be wise in case of injuries to the raiders.

J.R. produced an uncertain grin. “Hopefully, nobody will need my services.”

“Be sure to stay to the rear of your assigned team.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tramer beckoned Steiner with his spiny fingers, having prepared room for him right behind the cockpit. Steiner squeezed into the space.

Mason and Sanchez sat inside the cockpit, prepping the shuttle for launch.

Pattie helped the last few men inside the rear hatch of the shuttle. The cramped passengers groaned and cursed as they crammed themselves in to make space for the Saint. The butt of a rifle dug into Steiner’s right side while Tramer’s cold metal breastplate pressed on his left. Finally, the rear hatch latched in place.

“Mr. Mason, take us down,” Steiner said, trying not to betray how uncomfortable he was.

As Mason pressed a series of keypads on the instrument panels in front of him, Skyport’s landing bay lit up with red lights as the decompression cycle began, lasting only a few seconds. The outside doors split apart, allowing the glow of the planet to shine into the cockpit. When the shuttle accelerated out of the bay, the momentary inertia caused everyone in the back of the tiny ship to groan in response to the added pressure.

Sweat permeated the air, mixed with Tramer’s formaldehyde scent. The once-loud, boisterous group of raiders became quiet. Steiner could feel their tension mount in anticipation of the battle ahead. His head was so close to Tramer’s breastplate, he could hear the mechanical heart inside pumping fluids through the oversized body.

Hurot IV’s sun blazed through the front window for a few blinding seconds as Mason adjusted his trajectory to the one highlighted on the instrument panel in front of him. “We’re in the preprogrammed flight path. Twenty-five minutes until we land.”

Looking at the blue-and-white swirls on the globe below, Steiner thought back to the last time he had visited Hurot IV. Once included within the United Star Systems, Hurot IV had been captured by the New Order Empire on the Day of Betrayal. The water, which covered 95 percent of the surface and left only a scattering of islands available for human habitation, coupled with the weather, which created seasonal superstorms capable of engulfing the smaller landmasses, prevented any serious colonization of the world. Multitudes of automated water-collection platforms floated on the open seas, conveying the vital resource to one of two export stations, where cargo ships could transport the life-giving fluid to planets that lacked it. Back when the United Star Systems controlled Hurot IV, extravagant pleasure resorts had been built on all of the islands, welcoming guests during the calmer weather seasons, making it a once-sought-after vacation hideaway. Steiner had honeymooned there with Mary, two years before the war had broken out. She would have been heartbroken that the Separatists had installed a planetary base on one of the islands, making it a military target.

“How are you enjoying the ride, Captain?” Rex whispered in mocking fashion from somewhere behind him. Almost immediately after he had spoken, he yelped in pain.

“Show some respect, or I’ll put you over my knee and whup your behind,” Pattie admonished.

Rex remained silent, though stifled giggles sounded from around him.

“You heard what I said.
Show
some respect, or I’ll
teach
you some.”

“Uh … sorry, Captain, sir.”

“That’s better, laddie. You’ll get your fill of Separatist skulls to—”

“Quiet, please.” Tramer’s synthesized voice filled the interior. “Listen.”

From the cockpit, Steiner heard a strange voice. Mason looked back, his face pale. Leaning forward, Steiner listened intently as the message repeated.

“Marco, this is Devin, please respond.”

Someone from Landbase was calling the shuttle.

No, not now,
Steiner thought. If Mason responded to the signal, his voice would give away the fact that he was not Marco.

“Marco, you stubborn fool,” Devin said again. “The commander wants me to remind you that the colonel is still down here on his inspection tour, so be on your best behavior.”

Mason’s gaze implored Steiner for help.

Steiner shook his head wordlessly. He had no ideas.

“Marco, respond now,” Devin said, making it sound like a direct order.

Mason opened the channel. Everyone held his breath in expectation of what the pilot would say.

Mason hesitated for several heartbeats, then let out a loud belch into the microphone.

Steiner gasped.

“I’ll give him that exact message,” Devin finally responded. “You’ll be baskin’ in hot water tonight, ol’ buddy. Landbase out.”

The entire team seemed to let out its collective breath at the same time. Rex howled, followed by several cheers by his friends. Raiders within reach of Mason rewarded him with slaps on his shoulder.

“Prepare for the raid,” Tramer shouted to the raiders. “We must all have our minds completely focused on that one goal.”

The shuttle waded into the cloud bank, which blocked their view as they continued their descent. Droplets of condensation fanned out toward the outer edges of the glass in anticipation. Without warning, the concealed landmass sprang into view. It was one of Hurot’s larger islands. Webs of mist draped the tangled tropical jungle below, masking most of its surface features. If Mason hadn’t had the exact coordinates, he probably would never have found it—even if he’d known on which island to look.

Sunlight bathed the lattice of mists in a reddish glow as it hovered below the cloud bank on the horizon. If darkness fell, the station’s personnel would have the advantage because the raiders weren’t experienced in night combat.

A landing beacon flashed from within a canyon that split the jagged sea of green plants at the northeast end of the island. Undergrowth hid all but faint traces of the buildings and structures of the base concealed within the chasm. Overhanging trees and vines camouflaged the defensive towers set upon all the surrounded ridges.

Before the shuttle sank beneath the ridgeline, Mason extinguished all the interior lighting. Julio Sanchez ducked in his chair. From the sentries’ point of view, it would appear as if only one person manned the ship. Only the sound of the raiders’ breathing disturbed the stillness within the passenger compartment.

“Marco, you are cleared to set down in the center of the field,” a woman announced over the speakers in the cockpit.

“Ironhand,” Mason said, “if we set down on that landing pad, not one of us will make it to cover before being plowed down by those guns on the ridges.”

Looking over Mason’s shoulders at the center monitor in the cockpit, Steiner saw a flat concrete slab in the middle of the valley with blinking lights on each corner. About a hundred yards in all directions, the installation’s buildings protruded out of the steep slopes.

“I give you permission to crash,” Steiner said.

The pilot grinned. “Any preference as to where?”

“The bunkhouse to the east,” Tramer cut in. “Its walls are weak.”

Steiner nodded his approval. The weapons officer’s sensors were more trustworthy than the human eye.

“We’re going to ram a building,” Tramer told his team.

About a dozen meters above the pad, the pilot veered the shuttle toward the bunker.

“Marco, correct your cours—”

Mason silenced the woman’s plea with a jab of a keypad. “Brace for impact,” he shouted into the passenger compartment.

The nose of the craft dug into the wall of the bunker. The material gave way easily, just as Tramer had said it would. Steiner banged his head against the weapons officer’s breastplate as the shuttle jolted and shook to a complete stop. Rubbing the knot forming on his brow, he surveyed the rest of the passengers. Everyone else appeared to be fine.

When Tramer opened the shuttle’s forward hatch, the raiding party burst into the interior of the bunker. Most of the roof remained intact, concealing them from the sentries on the ridges. Two men cowered under their bunks at the sight of enemy invaders. Two of the raiders rushed over, knocked them unconscious, and shackled their hands.

An alarm sounded—not a fast-paced siren that might signify an attack but the slow wail that usually accompanied accidents.

Tramer called out instructions to each of the raiders. Rex, Bo, and Midas were in charge of disabling the guns on the ridges. The other ten men divided into two groups, one under Tramer’s command, the other, under Julio Sanchez’s. They raced down separate passageways, leaving Steiner and Mason alone to bring up their flank. Weapons fire exploded from both directions.

Mason slipped his helmet over his head. “I wonder why Tramer didn’t give me an assignment.”

Steiner squirmed slightly under his protective suit. “You’re with me.”

When Mason picked up an assault rifle, Steiner’s blood ran cold. What if Tramer was right? He thought he knew Mason well enough, but did he really?

“Which way?” Mason asked.

Steiner guided him in the direction Tramer’s team had taken. He knew the weapons officer was heading for the main control complex. He wanted to be there when the computer terminals were accessed.

As they made their way through the corridors, they passed several dead enemy personnel. Steiner watched Mason for any reaction of anger or remorse for the deaths. The pilot showed little interest.

Some of the bodies were outfitted in full-dress uniform. That was odd. Then Steiner remembered what Devin had said when he contacted the shuttle, that the base had been in the middle of an inspection tour. The base’s personnel had been so concerned with impressing the visiting dignitary that they had probably been caught completely off guard by the raid.

A massive amount of weapons fire erupted from outside the building. Steiner carefully peeked out of a nearby doorway that opened up into a corner of the grassy field. Pattie and two other raiders ran along the base of the cliffs toward a weapons stockpile, covered by camouflaged netting.