Prison Ship (41 page)

“Where is the rest of your raiding party?”

“They’re dead,” Sanchez exploded. “That bounty you offered inhibited them from working together as a team. What should have been a simple siege turned into a free-for-all.”

“Their greed worked to your advantage,” Quinn replied. “You’ll be a rich man.”

“I’d better be.”

Quinn ignored the threat. Instead, he addressed the men who had rallied around them. “Now that the ship is ours, we can begin our voyage to the Centri System.”

“Not yet,” Sanchez cut in. “Mason and Bricket are barricaded inside the command center.”

A flash of annoyance crossed Quinn’s face, then his confident smile returned. “Not for long.” He shoved Steiner toward the control cubicle. Steiner’s ankle twisted wrong, and he toppled to the floor. The onlookers laughed. When Quinn picked him up and threw him against a console near the cubicle, Steiner caught sight of the Orders disk lying next to what looked like the opened case for the Louis Harrison medallion. That small silver wafer could determine the outcome of the whole war. If only he could—

Quinn activated the intercom. “This is the new leader of the crew. We have the captain down here. He has something to tell you.” A pistol muzzle pressed against Steiner’s temple. “Tell them to surrender,” a coarse whisper stung his ear.

Steiner stayed quiet. Quinn kicked the wound in his thigh. The stabbing pain buckled Steiner over.

“Say it,” Quinn growled.

Steiner glared up at him, then gave his own wicked smile.

The pistol handle slammed into his right cheek, nearly stealing away his consciousness. A numbing sensation spread through his head. Blood ran down into his left eye. The gun barrel pressed against his forehead.

Quinn’s features hardened. The glint of death frosted over his dark eyes. There was no doubt that he was about to kill.

“This is Rick Mason in the command center.” A voice shattered the silence.

Quinn pivoted to the console and slammed his fist into an intercom keypad. “Come out of there, or we’ll come up and remove you by force.”

“You’re not going to the Centri System. I doubt you even know the rules for entry. Which overlord is allowing—?”

Quinn cut off the channel.

“Why didn’t you let him finish?” Sanchez asked. “Do you know how to enter the Centri System?”

Quinn’s gaze narrowed.

Sanchez paced around Quinn. “All the way down here, the captain tried to convince me you were a Separatist agent,” he said. “I’m beginning to wonder if that’s true.”

Quinn stared at him for a moment, then glanced about at the many other faces that mirrored the same doubt. “Don’t you see what Steiner has tried to do?” Quinn asked them all. “He has trained you all to be sacrificial lambs of the U.S.S. Now he’s trying to appeal to your sense of loyalty by making me out to be the same enemy you’ve been accustomed to hating.” He walked over, picked up Steiner by the arm, and dragged him toward the center of the room. “It was a smart tactic. I’ll grant him that. No one would have followed him without it.”

Quinn stopped next to a storage bin that had been set out in the middle of the chamber. When Steiner looked up, he saw that the Louis Harrison medallion had been tied to a sprocket embedded in the ceiling above. Its ribbon hung down in a noose.

Too weak to fight Quinn’s iron grip, Steiner accepted his own death. Quinn forced him to stand on top of the storage bin, then draped the noose around his neck.

“Wong,” Quinn said. “Take Julio and Stiles up to the command center. Contact me when you have secured it.”

The desire to protect his friends spurred Steiner to life once again. With one final effort, he wrestled against the belt. He almost had his left hand free.

Wong and Stiles started toward the door, but Sanchez held back.

“Don’t worry, Julio,” Quinn added. “Wong isn’t motivated by money.”

After a brief hesitation, Sanchez followed after the others.

When Quinn turned back, Steiner realized that he had run out of time. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get free of his bond.

“Enjoy your medal, Captain,” Quinn said. “You’ve earned it.” With that, he pushed the bin away.

Steiner’s body fell under the force of gravity and spun. The ribbon bit into his throat.

Mary, I’m coming to you.

AT the sound of approaching footsteps, Daniels shoved J.R. into the doorway to the cafeteria. A burnt, acidic smell greeted them. J.R. gasped. Daniels couldn’t help but share his friend’s shock. Intense heat had scarred the room. Only ashes and mounds of melted substances remained of the tables and other furnishings. J.R. looked questioningly at Daniels, who responded with a finger to his lips. They pressed themselves against the charred walls as voices, intermixed with the clanking of body armor, passed by. A quick glimpse from Daniels saw several raiders moving toward the front of the ship.

Daniels brought the microphone of his headset close to his mouth. “Spider, are you there?”

“Yeah, we’re still at the air lock. Did you find out anything?”

“Affirmative. The ship is in hostile hands. Hide yourselves. Three heavily armed men are coming your way.”

“What about you and J.R.?”

“I’m going in for a look inside the engine room.”

“Me, too,” J.R. whispered into his headset’s microphone.

“Be careful.” Spider’s voice through the earpiece sounded worried.

“You, too. Daniels out.”

Daniels led J.R. out of the cafeteria and down the corridor until they came to a pressure door with a five-foot-wide circle cut out of it. He peeked through the jagged opening.

Steiner hung from the ceiling in the center of the chamber, surrounded by eight mutineers.

THE ceiling spun above Steiner’s head, the medallion flashing against the surrounding lights. Pressure built within his head, threatening to explode at any second. Shapes blurred into swirling colors. Noises blended into a ceaseless drone.

Blackness.

Steiner found himself standing in the middle of a luscious field of swaying grass speckled with wildflowers. The sun shone through a couple of sparse clouds. A gentle breeze filled with the scent of springtime caressed him. He glanced around and heard faint laughter from somewhere. He stepped toward a grove of trees, searching out the sound. As he got closer, he began to recognize his surroundings. This was the park where he had proposed to Mary. He saw two people under the shade of an oak embracing. Could it be? He crept closer. The man stood up and raced across a nearby meadow, while the girl laughed merrily.

Steiner knew why the man had left. He’d gone to fetch his holocamera from his vehicle in the parking lot. He planned to take a picture of his new love and put it in a holocard, so he could cherish it for all time.

The woman stood up from the blanket and whipped her dark hair back from her smiling face.

Steiner stopped in his tracks and dropped to his knees. He mouthed the name he was afraid to speak, for it might end his dream. He closed his eyes, not wishing to be tormented with the happy memories that could no longer be. A shadow draped the light seeping through his sealed eyelids.

He opened his eyes and found himself in the back of a crowded church. At the altar stood a man in a black tuxedo with a woman in a flowing white gown. He stepped closer and saw the twinkle of light from the rings as the couple exchanged them.

When he blinked, the people in the chapel vanished. Their voices resonated through the lofty sanctuary for a few seconds before fading into nothingness. The chains holding the chandeliers of smoking candles moaned slightly. Sunlight filtered through a giant stained-glass window in the front wall of the chapel, casting colorful designs across the first six rows of pews.

A sniffle broke the stillness.

In the fourth row, bathed in a blue glow, a woman sat with her head in her lap, her body shaking with silent sobs.

Steiner walked softly forward, stopping three rows behind her within a scarlet patch of light, afraid to approach, afraid to discover who the woman was. The stained glass tinted her dark hair with the color of a twilit evening. Could it be her? Why would she be crying?

A man entered through the double doors at the entrance. A scurry of footsteps resounded within the old building. Steiner saw a younger version of himself in a military dress uniform rush in and sit next to the woman. The man whispered something to her.

Steiner knew what the man had said without having to hear his words. He had just promised Mary that he would come to church with her more often, but not today because he was late for an important meeting that couldn’t be missed. Mary smiled and nodded. The man kissed her, then hurried out of the chapel.

Steiner remembered that the appointment had been an excuse in order to play billiards with several high-ranking officials and buck for a promotion.

Alone again, Mary dropped her head into her hands and wept.

Steiner slipped out of his seat and crept closer. If only he could touch her, comfort her. With each step toward her, he could see her fading away into the blue sunlight. He rushed forward, stretched out his hand, and grabbed nothing but the dust floating in the air. He searched around the empty pew where she had been sitting. The echoes of her sobs died into complete stillness. Steiner looked up into the stained-glass tapestry in the window and saw the shape of a cross in the center of a montage of scenes.

“Why did you take her away?” Steiner shouted. “We were happy together.”

With a thunderous explosion, the stained-glass window broke into myriads of sparkling fragments. Brilliant light surged through the opening. Steiner blinked. People flowed around him, on their way somewhere. The ambience was different. He no longer stood in the darkened chapel. Above him, a modern lighting tube ran the length of a long room. An old man hobbled around him, glaring at him as he passed. Steiner stumbled out of the way as the crowd continued to pass by. A small boy looked up at him and smiled.

They can see me,
Steiner thought.

“Shuttle Nine leaving from Gate D in five minutes,” a voice said over a loudspeaker.

Every muscle in Steiner’s body stiffened simultaneously. That was the name of the craft that had crashed with Mary on it.

He walked with the crowd as he scanned his environment. This looked like a shuttle depot. A baggage claim lay to the right, a ticket counter to the left. Illuminated signs pointed toward where the gates were. A time display stood in the center of the room, the date on the bottom read February 18, 2429—the day that Mary would die.

No, it can’t be.

Was he living out the incident over again? No, it must be a dream. He pinched himself hard on the arm. A stinging red mark swelled up on the skin. Within the glass covering the time display, he saw his reflection. He looked younger. Had he been sent back in time somehow? Could he change the past, or was this a trick to play on his feelings?

“Shuttle Nine departs in three minutes,” the person announced throughout the building. “Last call for boarding.”

Steiner sprinted toward the gates. If he could rescue her, he would. With a maddened desperation, he forced a path through the slow-moving pedestrians until he found the marker that had a giant numeral 9. Outside the building, passengers proceeded into the craft sitting on the launchpad.

He stepped over to the attendant and asked if Mary Steiner had boarded yet. While the man looked through his list of passengers, Steiner caught sight of a screen displaying the daily news.

“The New Order Empire in the Outer Colonies has increased its aggressive posture,” the anchorwoman announced.

“Some political analysts fear that war may be inevitable, while still others maintain hope for a peaceful reconciliation.”

Bumps rose up his arms, pricking his hairs. He had forgotten that the war had not broken out yet.

“She hasn’t arrived yet,” the attendant said. “She has two minutes left before the ship departs.”

After thanking the man, Steiner inched closer to the screen.

“In brighter news, Ralph Jamison was appointed the newest member of the War Council,” the woman said. A hologram of the bald, narrow-faced man appeared behind her.

No,
Steiner cried silently.
Not him.

Jamison raised his right hand. “I pledge to do my best to lead the United Star Systems to a better future.”

“To its destruction,” Steiner hissed.

A nearby teenager glared at him, probably wondering if he was insane.

Steiner turned away from the screen, unable to bear any more. If Mary came, he would stop her—no matter what.

Almost at that same instant, she ran from the corridor, stepped up to the gate’s attendant, and handed in her ticket.

Steiner rushed forward and hugged her. “Mary, I found you—at last.”

She pushed away from him. “I told you, Jacob. There is no more discussion. I need to go away for a few months. It’ll give us both time to think things through and get our priorities straight.”

Steiner stared at her, dumbfounded by her strange behavior. “You’re leaving me?” he asked.

“Don’t act surprised. We both have known it was leading up to this for some time now.”

“You’re my wife,” he said. “You know that I love you.”

“Do you? I feel more like a medal you’ve won, which you can take down to flaunt whenever it suits you. You love your own selfish ambitions, not me.”

Steiner wanted to think this was a gross misunderstanding of some kind but couldn’t shake the feeling that what she had said was true. It was like he had heard it before in some distant memory. Desperate to keep her from the shuttle, he clutched her shoulders gently, drew her closer, and gazed deep into her emerald eyes. “Do you remember all the happy times we spent together?” As soon as he had spoken the words, he recalled the scene in the church, where he had left her alone.

Mary sighed. “I will always cherish those memories, but—”

Before she could finish, he kissed her lips. During the caress, Mary remained stiff and unyielding. Steiner drew back. He felt the burning sensation of a single tear running down his face. “I love you.”