Renegades: Origins Page 10

Rastar looked like he had taken at least a couple hits from the surprise attack. Mike saw blood run from several holes in his legs, but the Ghornath kept up with Anubus as the two raced towards the hub.

  “Get him off of me!” Eric shouted from behind the counter.

  “Do not let him escape,” Run said, his high pitched voice calm. “It will make this operation much harder.”

  Mike hesitated. He looked between the two fighters as they leapt down the microgravity in the corridor and where the others worked on Eric. Now that he had chosen to support the others, he felt lost. What was best for the group, as opposed to best for himself?

  Mike grimaced; either way, they needed a pilot to take charge of whatever ship they captured and someone to think ahead rather than charge blindly. He dove into the corridor, just as Anubus and Rastar landed at the far end.

  He saw gunfire spray across the Hub. Anubus gave a grunt of pain and stumbled, but Rastar’s two riot guns barked, both in separate directions. The gunfire cut off. Rastar used his upper arms to work the slide and then fired both weapons a second time.

  Anubus ran forward and cleared the hatch.

  Mike landed lightly on his feet, only to slip in a patch of blood. He immediately saw a pair of downed Chxor guards. His eyes went to where Anubus had pinned a third Chxor against the wall. This one wore a brown uniform, rather than the armor that the guards wore.

  “Who do we have here?” Mike asked. He glanced at both airlocks. One had gone shut, and the light above it changed from green to amber as Mike watched. A moment later the amber light went out and changed to red.

  Mike scowled. The ship there had undocked. “Rastar, get aboard that other ship there, kill anyone who’s a threat, and make sure it doesn’t leave.”

  The Ghornath rushed past him, even as Mike walked more calmly to stand next to Anubus. “I don’t think they’ll leave without you, though, will they?”

  Anubus glanced over at Mike. “Think he’s worth much?”

  “His life isn’t worth much, not unless he helps us out,” Mike said.

  “This is not logical,” the Warden said. He had a thicker accent than the guards, and if anything, his monotone voice seemed even blander than that of the guards. “You should allow me to leave. Without a ship to escape the system, you will be caught and executed. I am a Chxor and therefore can hide amongst the populace. There is no need for all of us to die.”

  “All of us?” Mike asked, and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, all of us?”

  “You will die, of course, for insurrection against the Chxor Empire,” the Warden said. “Allow me to leave. If you have offspring I will see to it that they receive payment.”

  “Very kind of you,” Mike said. “But I don’t think I’ve got any rug-rats and the Wrethe here doesn’t have any parenting instincts, as far as I know. How about you tell us what Fontaine’s plan is, and what he paid you?”

  The Warden showed little expression, “Your behavior defies logical reason. Your lack of genetic offspring shows some restraint that I wish the rest of your race would follow, however.” His pale yellow eyes went between Anubus and Mike. “I insist that you let me go. You gain nothing from my demise at the hands of the Empire.”

  “Revenge is something, and you may not live long enough for your buddies to kill you,” Mike growled. “I never hated the Chxor, but since I hit Saragossa you have done your best to make me, and you’ve done a damned fine job at that at least.”

  “Hatred and revenge are wastes of resources, emotions that have a profound effect on reason…”

  Mike placed the pistol against the Warden’s forehead. He copied the Warden’s monotone, “Continue your lecture, as you can tell, I am very interested.” He thumbed off the safety, grateful for the archaic mechanical feature rather than a more complex biometric safety. It both allowed him to use the damned thing and made a sufficiently impressive click when pressed against the Chxor’s forehead. “Tell me what Fontaine’s plan was, and why you worked with him, especially when your buddies will kill you for this.”

  “He kept the other prisoners in line, and maintained peak efficiency,” the Warden said. “In addition, he boosted recovery of quality equipment over and above scrap metal, which showed a substantial profit increase on my behalf.”

  “You’re emotionless corporate drones?” Mike asked, “Why am I not surprised?”

  “No we do not have an economic system like humans. Free market systems have too great of waste, and do not always reward those they should. We maintain a command market, and we have no currency. All Chxor work for the Empire.” The Warden seemed proud of that.

  “You know, that might have brought a tear to my eyes, except I don’t really give a damn,” Mike grimaced. “So that Frenchy bastard kept your other slaves in line and boosted productivity, so you allowed him to stage his escape? I don’t see how that would not make you look bad.”

  “Security is not my area of responsibility,” the Warden said. “By directive twelve seventeen forty seven of Penal Station Regulations, I am responsible for the maintenance of tools and the station, scheduling supply and salvage shipments-”

  “Oh, shut up,” Anubus growled. “So someone else holds the bag, the security chief or guard captain or whoever?”

  “Yes, Chief of Security Kras had responsibility for security. Any violation of station security would reflect upon him, rather than me,” the Warden answered. “To further shift blame, I scheduled my leave to coincide with the breakout. Fontaine would make the Chief of Security look bad, I would salvage the situation, and therefore receive a better evaluation and promotion.”

  “How did you plan to salvage this?” Mike waved the pistol in a circle.

  “Well, that is obvious. During my leave, I filed a memorandum that I suspected Chief of Security Kras had become suborned, and that a group of prisoners planned an escape. I knew that Fontaine planned to link up with another ship, so I requested a Fleet detachment to investigate. They should arrive shortly.”

  “You double-crossing little shit,” Mike snarled. He did not know how the Chxor Empire’s space fleet would react, especially with how their forces must be stretched thin with their conquests, yet he did not doubt that they would manage some reaction. He glanced over at Anubus, “Get down to the others and tell them we need to get moving now.”

  The Wrethe leveled his gaze on Mike, and his dark eyes seemed to flicker with suppressed emotion. Mike saw the muscles on the Wrethe’s body tense, and the fur rise along its body. “You seem eager for me to leave. Do you perhaps think to depart without me?”

  Mike let go of the Warden and turned to face Anubus. “No. For one thing, we’ve got what I bet is a short legged fusion drive cargo boat, not even worthy of the title ship. There’s no way I can get out of the system with just that. For another, I’ll need the others, especially Pixel for his engineering skills and probably Crowe for his communications skills. I don’t particularly need you… but the quickest way to get them is to have you get them, and frankly, I don’t trust you alone with the ship.”

  Anubus stepped forward. He loomed over Mike for a moment, “You shouldn’t. I’m half tempted to kill you and leave. But your point about needing the others is well taken. I will get them, but we need to revisit the way you order the rest of us around. We are neither your followers nor your servants.”

  Before Mike could respond, the Wrethe took off in a lope. Mike let out a deep breath, and felt his legs tremble a bit. Something about the Wrethe just had that effect on him.

  “I have secured the ship,” Rastar said from behind him.

  Mike jumped several feet into the air. He spun around, “Christ on… How do you move so quietly?”

  “I have stood here since you threatened the Warden,” Rastar said, though his hide showed green. Mike figured that meant humor. He made a mental note to have a discussion with the Ghornath at a later time regarding his sense of humor, amongst other things. “I searched the ship. The Chxor pilot will no longer be an is
sue, and I managed to avoid too much of a mess.”

  “I would have liked a Chxor to talk me through the controls,” Mike said.

  “He saw me and reached for a button on the panel. I did not want to risk him disabling the ship or calling for help,” Rastar said.

  “That’s good,” Mike grunted. “How big is it?”

  “There are two cargo holds, the same size as those we awoke in,” Rastar said. “One contains several heavy crates, which I didn’t open, and what looks like Chxor food, which I think it best none of us try,” Rastar gave a slight smirk. “Though I imagine that Run will be pleased with the results.”

  “I’m sure,” Mike said. He hoped the little Chxor really knew medicine, and not just how Chxor bodies worked. Despite their external physical similarities, Mike somehow doubted that they shared much in common internally.

  “There is a corridor that runs almost the length of the ship, and connects the cockpit with the engine room. I am not familiar with Chxor writing or much in regards to ships, so I cannot tell you much more.”

  “Alright, as soon as some others get here, I’ll go check it out.”

  “You read Chxor?” Rastar asked.

  “I know ships, how hard can it be?”

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Crowe and Pixel came out of the corridor, carrying Eric between them. The former soldier looked pale, and a broad stain of blood covered the side of his suit. He seemed conscious though. “How is he?” Mike asked.

  Run landed in the hub chamber, “The test subject will live. I successfully removed the shrapnel from his wound. I recommend rest and time to heal. Also, once he has fully healed, a vivisection will allow me to further study how human bodies react to damage and heal.”

  “You’re not coming near me with a knife again,” Eric said. He looked over at Mike, “The little bastard just pulled out a knife and started cutting. No pain killers, nothing!”

  Mike looked over at Crowe, who gave him a nod. Crowe actually looked green, and he swallowed carefully before he spoke, “Run kept talking about the details, organs and bones and…” the man lost his battle with nausea and left Pixel to support Eric. He ran over to the side and started to heave.

  “Oh, is this some waste removal system natural to humans?” Run asked. The little Chxor tapped his fingers together as he peered at Crowe.

  “You should ask him,” Mike said helpfully.

  “Very interesting, I must take notes,” the little Chxor scurried away.

  Mike saw others leap down the corridor. He turned to Eric and Pixel. “Lets get Eric aboard. Pixel, I need you to look at the ship’s engine and drive. Find out what we have to work with. I’m going to check out the cockpit.” He glanced at Rastar, “Get everyone loaded, and send Ariadne up to the cockpit when she gets here.”

  He and Pixel got Eric inside and propped him against the pile of crates just inside the hatch of the ship. The cargo hold looked almost identical to the one they had arrived inside, except the inner hatch lay open. Mike led the way inside. He glanced down the corridor. The ship had rougher edges than the station. It seemed designed for the shorter-statured Chxor rather than humans, with a ceiling that made even Mike feel vaguely claustrophobic. The corridor lighting also had a greenish tint that made him feel vaguely as if he were underwater.

  That in turn made sweat break out on his forehead. This is ridiculous, we’re in space, a couple million miles from the nearest water… and that’s probably frozen comet remainders orbiting the gas giant out there. The thought did not seem to help much, but he forced himself down the hall anyway.

  Mike saw that both hatches at either end of the corridor lay open, along with the hatch to the second cargo bay. It looked empty. He saw a tangle of machinery beyond the open hatch at one end. Before he could say anything, Pixel gave him a broad smile and started in that direction. The engineer looked perversely happy to see machinery.

  Mike glanced the other way and saw the back of a pilot’s chair, seat restraints neatly folded on the back. He couldn’t help a broad smile of his own. “Well, I never thought I’d fly again, it’s not the same, not at all,” he said to himself as he walked forward. Flying meant freedom, self control… what could an engineer see in machinery?

  Mike found the Chxor pilot’s body near the controls. As Rastar had said, he prevented too much of a mess. Mike still had to wipe away green blood from the main control panel. The rest of the flechettes from the riot gun had also shredded the copilot’s seat, but Rastar had angled the shot to miss any of the controls.

  He bit back a curse as he stared at the Chxor glyphs. Like most ships, it didn’t have an actual control yoke. Buttons controlled thrust, vectors and the details of the ship. Unfortunately, Mike didn’t know what the buttons meant. He tapped at one screen, and angry purple glyphs flashed up on the main heads up display. A Chxor voice spoke harsh words that Mike thought probably signaled something bad.

  Mike leaned around and shouted down the corridor. “Have someone send Run down here, I need his help!”

  He tapped at some other controls experimentally. Most seemed locked down, however. Probably a good idea, he acknowledged, when the ship lay docked with a station.

  A moment later, Ariadne and Run stepped into the narrow compartment. Run immediately looked at the mess of the pilot. “I think that you have probably come to overestimate my skills,” Run said. “This is understandable, due to my various talents. However, I must state that there is nothing I can do for this Chxor.”

  “I don’t care about him,” Mike said. He pointed at the control panel. “I need you to translate these.”

  “Oh,” Run said. He squeezed up beside Mike and started pointing and reading.

  Mike lost him after thirty seconds. “Alright, wait. Does anyone have a marker or something?”

  “I’ve kept up alright,” Ariadne said. “I’m cheating though, I’m picking the meaning for symbols out of his head.”

  “You can do that?” Mike and Run asked at the same time.

  Mike and Run looked at each other, startled at the echo. Mike looked back at Ariadne, “I thought you just did… you know, stuff with fire, and navigation.”

  “Mind reading is not my strongest suit and I don’t tend to tell anyone. Most people aren’t very comfortable around telepaths,” Ariadne said quietly. “You know the slang for us?”

  “Mind freaks, right?” Mike asked soberly. He had heard and even used the term before himself. It seemed rather… derogatory, now that he thought about it from her perspective.

  She nodded, “No one trusts a telepath, not when we can mess with other people’s minds. None of you seemed too put out by my other abilities. And… well, no one asked so I didn’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “Okay,” Mike said. He tapped the buttons he remembered that he figured would unlock the console. Ariadne reached over his shoulder and tapped another button, and the console went live. “So…” Mike said. “Have you messed with my mind at all?”

  She didn’t answer for a long moment. “I really don’t like to do that. It just feels wrong, somehow. But yeah, I did, once.”

  Mike felt a wave of relief. He looked back at his decision to put the safety of the others above his own, when the Chxor guards had them all pinned down. “The Chxor with the submachine gun, you made me shoot at him, right?”

  She looked at him with surprise, “Of course not. Truth to tell, I froze at first. I couldn’t see you or them, and my abilities are weak enough that I need line of sight. No, when we first met, I nudged you a bit so that you’d be more open to me, so that I could decide whether or not to trust you.”

  Mike felt shock roll over him. He had leapt at the chance to blame his selfless act on someone else. That’s not the man I am, not any more, not after… but he shut those thoughts away. Maybe he had changed. Maybe the sights of what the Chxor did to people gave him back some concern for his fellow man. Or maybe not, maybe he just identified with the dregs of society grouped together by circums
tance. Either way… “Run, go see if Pixel needs any help with the engines.”

  “No need,” Pixel said from the corridor. Mike looked over his shoulder. The engineer wrinkled his nose at the Chxor corpse. “You should do something about that, before he stinks up the place.”

  “Engines are up?” Mike asked.

  “Oh yeah, fusion reactor is hot, fusion drive is ready, and the thrusters are online, so we can get clear of the station, I even found a datapad linked to the ship’s engineering console.” Pixel said. “The engine’s pretty simple, actually, everything’s in a logical place, too, well designed, if unimaginative. I can see a lot of shortcuts they took to decrease build time, but they could have made it much better and still kept build times low if-”

  “Very interesting,” Mike said. “How about you go see how loading is coming along. Also, what kind of sensors and comms does this thing have?”

  “Uh, I saw a diagram on here…” Pixel frowned as he pulled out the datapad. “I think just some simple radar, and a basic high definition video telescope, same kind you see on cheap freighters where the captains cut overhead and skimp on sensors. I think it’s just got high frequency radio.”

  “Okay, I can work that, at least, and it won’t let anyone else know we’re live, not like pinging them with radar,” Mike said. He turned to Run, “What buttons for sensors?”

  The more technical terms of ship systems seemed to limit Run’s grasp of English. But after a short time, they worked through the necessary sequences to bring up first the video telescope, and then the radio.

  That was when they got their first bad surprise. As the radio came up, a deep voice spoke in Chxor. Mike looked at Run, who started to paraphrase, “…Security Kras. Warden Hral has subverted some members of security to lead a mutiny in conspiracy with workers aboard the station. Under authorization code five seven three four nine seven five I request all available military assistance and request the destruction of any ships which attempt to leave the station. This is a recording. I will attempt to regain control over the administration section. I repeat, this is Chief of Security Kras…”