Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (58 page)

“That blood’ll give us away,” said McAllister, glaring at my cheek. “As if your R-Tech cap and button uniform wasn’t bad enough.”

I removed the patch from my face while dabbing a fresh one over the blood stain on my shoulder. “Still bleeding?”

“Barely,” said McAllister. “Enough to show.”

“Here.” I handed her a tube of skin-seal.

She applied it. “Where’d you get this?”

“From the LLTV first aid kit. How’d you get this running?”

“Same program that enabled our system voice command. It should self-erase in about forty minutes. We should be on our way before then.” She handed back the skin-seal. “Should hold.”

“We’d better be.” We sped out of the strobing shuttle corridor section. “They’re getting organized. And if your reactor trick works...”

“Looks like we may have company,” McAllister said after examining the onboard monitor. “Shuttle, slow to thirty percent.”

I checked the screen. “Two security. Damn, it could get rough. Maybe not.” Most of
the security team’s response demonstrated training equal to Kent O’Vorley’s. “Should we risk contacting Guerrero?”

McAllister spoke into her collar. “Party Four, are you in position?”

“Affirmative, Party Five,” replied Guerrero without delay over McAllister’s implant and my com-set. “With our new found friend.”

“Associate One?” McAllister asked.

“No word,” Guerrero replied. “Things are happening around us.”

“Acknowledged. Out.” McAllister examined the shuttle’s chronometer. “Three minutes, fifty seconds.” She replaced the
power pack in the butt of her laser carbine. “Shuttle, one-hundred percent.”

Ca-chunk
! McAllister watched as I pumped a shell into the chamber. “We won’t be able to talk our way past those two security.” She nodded. “I’ll run interference. You watch our back. If we run into any sec-bots, you hammer them with your laser.” I handed her the lifted MP pistol. “Here’s a backup.”

The shuttle slowed. “You get the one approaching,” I said. “I’ll take the other.”

Before the shuttle stopped I raised my shotgun and fired twice. The buckshot took out the unprepared man. McAllister knocked hers down with her second blast. We leapt from the shuttle and made it into the corridor. Station personnel scrambled to get out of our way. I was able to load two shells.

Crack-Crack
!
Crack-Crack-Crack
! Two sec-specs had taken cover near the maintenance room we had to get past to reach the hangar. “Keep behind me.” I ran forward and exchanged fire. One fell. The other hit me with two rounds. A sharp pain knocked me off stride. I stumbled and unloaded on him before he could do any more.

McAllister caught me under the shoulder. “Keesay, how bad?”

“Took rounds in the thigh. Didn’t penetrate.” I hobbled forward, then continued in a galloping run toward the last cross-hall. Ahead, two more security blundered into view.

McAllister burned them before they recognized their peril. “I’ll take lead.”

“No.” I loaded a shell as I galloped. “Take out that camera. Watch our back.” She did, and we made it to the hangar area. Shouts, screams and the cracking of MP fire echoed from within the shattered entryway. Arctic air rushed past us.

Inside we encountered a melee between pilots, ground crews, maintenance and engineering techs. At least fifty fought across the entire hangar.

“Which shuttle?” I asked.

“We’re on the far right,” came over my com-set. “Hurry!”

A fighter hovered before accelerating through the gaping hangar doorway.

“Let’s just run for it,” I said.

McAllister was wide-eyed. “Go!” she yelled, tearing past. “Crax behind us!”

I didn’t bother to look. I simply tried to keep pace.

The fighting raged with fists, stun batons, makeshift clubs. It was impossible to tell who was on Boyd’s side. McAllister was almost there, with me ten yards behind. The shuttle ramp was extending when I got blindsided. I went down hard with a brawny engineering tech on me, grappling for my shotgun.

He’d succeeded in tearing it from my grip before rolling away, bellowing. He’d dropped my shotgun and came to one knee, struggling with a brown-furred mass gnawing into the base of his neck. Somehow, the tech had snagged the Chicher’s tail, holding the deadly tail blades at bay.

I grabbed my shotgun and rammed my bayonet into the engineering tech’s chest, but not before he’d slammed the Chicher to the floor. I grabbed the stunned diplomat by his harness and ran for the shuttle. McAllister and Kalger stood atop the ramp. Instead of urging me forward, they sent a rain of laser fire over my head. I didn’t have to guess why. A line of caustic bubbling burned alongside my path up the ramp.

Kalger yelled, “He’s in!”

We all staggered and fell to the floor as Guerrero lifted off. McAllister managed to close the hatch before anyone tumbled out.

I rolled over to see the Chicher writhing in agony. “Pain meds!” I shouted. “First aid kit!” Kalger crawled on all fours to comply.

“McAllister, get over here,” I said. Along the Chicher’s ribcage a fist-sized hole frothed. I recognized the caustic stench. “Hurry.”

The diplomat stared at me, eye-to-eye, and chattered something. I couldn’t hear, so I leaned closer.

The Chicher chattered a short pattern, three times. It was strained. His smashed translator dangled from its harness. He beckoned me closer. I leaned in and his jaws shot forward. His teeth pierced my neck, but his jaws didn’t close. He fell back before I could respond.

I sat up. Kalger shoved something in my lap. The diplomat’s ears and face were drawn back in agony as he squealed. I took his hands. “Hang in there, Diplomat. Pain meds, man!” His tail curled around my leg.

Kalger took back the meds and injected two emergency doses.

“That should help, Diplomat,” I said. I spoke in Chicher, “Help, yes.”

The diplomat chattered the same short phrase as before, three times before clenching his teeth. His tail tightened, as did his handgrip. Then he fell limp.

“Acid got his innards,” said Kalger.

“Brilliant observation,” I snarled, causing Kalger to back away. McAllister was nowhere to be found. But Skids sat strapped to a nearby seat, taking the horrid scene in. I took a breath. “I’m sorry, Skids.”

“Better stow yer gear and get seated,” warned Kalger. “I’ll show you where you can lay yer friend.”

I lifted the diplomat by the harness, mindful of the acid.

Kalger grabbed my shotgun. “Darn brave alien,” he said. “Interestin’ death ritual.”

The use of modular docks established a more rapid system of expansion across the galaxy. A series of specially designed ships travels to a destination. Upon arrival, each ship’s aft thrust engine section and forward cascading engine compartment detach from the vessel’s central hull section. Engineers and construction-bots weld center sections together, forming a functioning dock. The forward and aft engine sections then unite for a return trip.

The modular docks require higher degrees of maintenance and the return trips are difficult on crews as ship facilities are limited. The price endured for the ability to swiftly establish distant footholds.

The gravity plate’s strength fluctuated between 80 and 110 percent during the rough ride out of the atmosphere.

I asked Kalger, “Grav control’s shot. How old is this shuttle?”

He held his stomach. “Shoulda known better than to eat before boarding this ol’ boat.” He burped. “Was refurbished before her trip out three years ago.”

I said to Skids, “Stay here,” and went forward, entering a cabin lined with cold sleep tubes.

A med tech with a curly mop of hair and straight, manicured beard, smiled. “Specialist,” he nodded.

“Thanks for all the help.” I brushed past him.

“Heard you were a real Crax killer,” said the med tech. He shook his head. “Saw more running than killing.”

I turned. “In a minute you’re gonna be doing more bleeding than grinning.”

“Whoa there, fellas,” called Kalger, lumbering into the tight area. He put his hand on the med tech’s shoulder. “Stenny, you don’t wanna mess with this fella. And you, Specialist, probably don’t wanna piss off Tech Stenny here.”

I checked my temper and strode out. I heard Kalger telling him about my buddy, the dead Chicher. I climbed the access ladder and continued forward into the cockpit where Guerrero sat at the controls.

“Keesay, got an open seat,” she said. “How’s the diplomat?”

I plopped into the co-pilot seat. “Dead,” I said. “Situation?”

“Sorry.” She didn’t look up from the controls. “McAllister is down with the cascading engine. Engineering Tech Popova is in the rear getting the most she can out of the thrust engine.”

“One engine?”

She nodded. “And it’s an old one. We’re tailing Boyd and four of her squadron. Two yachts launched ahead of them. I think they destroyed the second shuttle on the ground.” She glanced my way. “Heard the Crax are scrambling fighters. Five station fighters are forming up with them.” She checked the controls. “We may be joining the diplomat very soon.”

“Those fighters on the ground looked like military trainers.”

“Tech Kalger informed me of that. At least they have weapons.”

McAllister announced over the intercom, “Eighteen minutes till the cascading engine will be cycled.”

“Acknowledged,” said Guerrero. “Following escort. Twelve minutes until we’re aligned for Tallavaster.”

“Rogue One to Rebel One.” It was Boyd. “Tug destroyed yachts on approach. Two friendlies on your six. We’ll get you through.”

“Acknowledged, Rogue One,” said Guerrero before turning to me. “We couldn’t do anything about it if they were hostile.”

I scrutinized the display. The orbital platform came into view over the horizon. “Tug accelerating. Moving away. Five hostiles, possibly nine, if those four shadows are Crax. On intercept course.” I cautiously manipulated the display.

Guerrero reached over and tapped. “Here. This rotates the tactical display.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Two closing on our tail. Four bogies exiting the atmosphere in pursuit.” I watched. “Friendlies turning to engage.”

“Tech Popova,” called Guerrero. “Any more?”

“Negative,” she replied. “Maximum thrust, plus three percent.”

“One Behemoth class transport in orbit,” I said. “No Crax vessels.”

“Rogue One to Rebel One,” said Boyd. “Good luck. Rogue Two with me. Rogue Three, Four and Five, cover Rebel One.”

“Two friendlies are splitting off,” I said. “Vectoring toward the Behemoth.” I worked the display. “Three shadows appear to be leaving enemy formation.”

“Going to protect any Crax ships they might be harboring,” said Guerrero.

“Correct,” I said, adding the understatement, “but one Crax and five trainers might be too much for our escort to handle.” I watched the display. “Looks like a real dogfight behind us.” Fighters disappeared from the screen. “Three fighters left. Two are friendlies. What happened on the ground, Guerrero?”

She continued to monitor, but answered. “Apparently Boyd made contact with some loyal ground crews. They loaded and fueled the fighters, yachts and shuttles. Word must have gotten out and a group of maintenance and engineering techs arrived, at first to inquire. Then fighting broke out. I think communications were down because only a few more reinforced the bad guys.”

“It’ll go hard for those left behind,” I said. “Gar-Crax were on our tail into the bay. Fists and clubs won’t do it.”

“I think that many were looking for a chance,” said Guerrero. “Kalger said they’re pretty isolated here. Information is controlled.”

“I could do without that med tech,” I said. “A real Thud.”

Guerrero smiled at my R-Tech putdown. “That’s another story. Look! Boyd and her wingman are making a run on the Behemoth.” She manipulated the controls and intercepted a visual relay from the orbital platform.

“They’ll only get one pass,” I said. “Those chasing Crax are just out of range.” Boyd and her wingman split. One angled toward the aft section, the other the forward ventral.

“Trainers,” I said. “Only armed with a rotary cannon and a single pulse laser.” Both friendlies opened fire just before the Crax. “They’re not pulling up!”

“They can’t,” said Guerrero, “they’re hit and out of control.”

Fiery explosions erupted against the Behemoth’s hull. “For I am already on the point of being sacrificed,” I mumbled. “The time of my departure has come. I’ve fought the good fight. I’ve finished the race. I’ve kept the faith.”

“What?” asked Guerrero.

“Second Timothy,” I said. My mother said one day I’d be glad I memorized verses. I’m getting tired of praying for the dead.” I adjusted the display. “Boyd, she turned out to be okay.”

“You were right about her,” sighed Guerrero, before pointing out, “secondary explosions in the aft section. She’s beginning to roll.”

I sat up. “One must’ve rammed internal docking control.” We watched the enormous transport’s engines flame out. A maneuvering thruster flared to life only to ignite leaking fuel.

“She’s tumbling toward the planet,” I said before several escape pods rocketed from the Behemoth. “Fewer crew. That won’t help.”

“The tug will have a tough time saving her and any cargo.” Guerrero’s attention diverted. “They’ve got their troubles. We’ve got ours.”

I re-evaluated the display. “Three friendlies angling in. Three peeling off to intercept. Doesn’t look good. Time until intercept?”

Guerrero altered our course. “Now five minutes till alignment. Seven until cascading is cycled.”

“Crax accelerating,” I said. “Guess this was a bad idea. Wait!” I checked the screen. “A bogie just slid in behind the Crax and opened up.” A second followed suit. “They’ve crippled her!”

“Rebel One,” called an unfamiliar voice. “Way is clear. Going to help our friends.” The two fighters peeled away from the damaged Crax.

“We can outrun him now,” replied Guerrero. “Many thanks. We won’t forget.”

“What’s that, Guerrero?”

“Spike in planetside radioactive readings,” she said.

“McAllister,” I called. “You must’ve convinced a reactor to go critical.”

“Why, Specialist Keesay,” she replied, “you sound surprised.”

Med Tech Stenny shook his head. “I can’t believe how many pilots and ground crew turned on Capital Galactic.”

“How many were former military?” Guerrero asked.

“They’d just shipped half of their competent security,” said Stenny. “Engineers, too.” He looked to Popova, a young Engineering Tech. “Remember that new sec-spec? Toaver, what an asshole.”

I held my tongue. Stenny was a rude bastard himself.

“Nasty,” she agreed. “Aggressive.” She swiped a patch of dusty curls from her face. “I bet he was the one who sexually assaulted Tech Crayonit.”

McAllister hissed, signaling she’d had enough. “I’m sure Keesay bayoneted him. We can check the blood on his blade later.” She looked to me before stepping forward. “So, Medical Technician Stenny, how competent are you with the cold sleep equipment?”

“Who put you in command?”

“I did,” I said. “Answer her question.”

“Do it, Stenny,” Kalger warned. “You don’t wanna mess with this R-Tech.”

“I’m trained on the equipment. I’ve been through seven simulations in administering proper prep dosages for cold sleep.” He glared at me. “Although I could always screw up, by accident.”

“Keesay dies, you die,” McAllister said, presenting her menacing smile. “And, I’ve already programmed the system. Anything happens to me, this old interstellar shuttle will die too. Guess who goes with it?”

“Believe her,” Kalger said. “You saw what her code did to the station. Can you match that?”

“Why’d Boyd tap you?” asked McAllister.

Stenny replied, “Think about it. Everyone in science and medical is hard core Capital Galactic. I’m the only one with skills who’d be willing to warp-screw them without question.”

“I can see why you weren’t popular,” I said, trying not to sneer. “Neither am I. McAllister has more reason to hate my guts than you could ever dream up. She’s learned to live with it. We do our task.” I looked around. “We don’t have enough stores and recycling capacity for all of us. Only three can stay awake. You’ll prep Skids, myself, Popova, and Kalger, and see that we successfully enter cold sleep.”

Tech Stenny crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling.

“Now yer pissin’ me off,” Kalger said. “Grow up, boy. These ain’t just a group of refugees. Get with the program. The Crax are tryin’ to make us extinct.”

“McAllister,” I said, “you’re a genius. If Stenny can figure the equipment, so can you. We won’t risk Skids. You and Guerrero will stay awake with him.” I drew my revolver and thumbed back the hammer. “You, Tech Stenny, come on back with me. No reason for the others to watch.”

Stenny’s jaw dropped. He looked to Kalger for support.

Kalger held up his hands. “I warned ya. Can’t say I blame’em.”

Tech Popova jumped between Stenny and me. “You can’t.” She was shaking. Her brown eyes wide. “He’ll do it. Won’t you, Stenny?”

“I’ll do it,” agreed Stenny. “Yes. No problem.”

“There is a problem,” I said. “I don’t trust you. I trust McAllister to try harder.”

“
Ludmilla,” said Kalger, taking Popova’s arm. “Stenny messed with the wrong crowd.”

“Bide,” McAllister said to me. “Tech Stenny will teach me everything he knows. I’m always interested in acquiring new skills.” Stenny sighed. “Don’t relax just yet. After you instruct me, I’ll apply my new knowledge.” Her grin transformed from menacing to sinister. “On you first. If things go well, you’ll live.” She looked around. “Fair enough?”

Stenny sat forward. “Yes! That’s fair.” He gulped afterward.

One week later, Stenny, Kalger and Popova were in cold sleep. I was on the platform, ready to be knocked out before the tube insertion. “Think she can go four for four, Skids?”

McAllister’s impish smile preceded her question. “What makes you think I went three for three?”

Skids shot a worried look at the red-headed engineer.

McAllister laughed. “Keesay didn’t teach you how to identify a joke?”

“He never jokes when he talks about you, Engineer.”

“Only when you’re not around, right, Keesay?”

“Skids, do me a favor. Beat her at chess, would you?”

“Sure thing,” he said. Then he met McAllister’s gaze. “I’ll try.”

“Make sure she maintains my equipment.”

“We’ll clean your guns.” She pulled a needle and calibrated the dosage. “Remember, we won’t risk bringing you out until we land on Tallavaster. So, my face won’t be the first thing you see.”

“Six months from now. Until then.” I nodded to Guerrero. “You’re in charge. Keep an eye on them.” I winked at her. “I know. You’re welcome.”

I woke up retching with nothing to spit up. Every nerve ending ached.

“It doesn’t get any better, Specialist Keesay. Does it?”

I knew that voice. “Skids?” I rolled over. A nurse helped me sit up. “Careful,” I said, every orifice throbbing.

“Specialist Keesay,” said Skids, “you’ll never believe it. Both sides almost shot us down. But Guerrero got us through!”

I squinted. McAllister and Guerrero stood nearby. I heard Stenny across the hall, moaning. I forced mirth through my dry vocal cords. “Glad you made it, Tech Stenny. If for no other reason than to know how terrible you feel.”