Death Drop (25 page)

“Deal,” she said with an apologetic half-grin.

Simon reached for the greasy rag in his left back pocket and turned to leave. He took a few steps and then paused. “How is he?” he asked without turning around.

“He passed out in the infirmary,” she said softly as the guilt tried to choke her up again. “I gave him some meds for the pain and swelling and bandaged his head. He’ll probably be out for a while.”

“Hope the little bugger’ll be all right,” Simon said and then vanished toward the engine room.

Dezmara’s mind drifted like the slowly swirling rock that spun around the broken cores of the Trinity planets. She had no good memories to get lost in—only pain. But before she could wallow in her loneliness again, the holodex brought her back from despair.

“Transmission received, Portmaster, Luxon Station. Authentication PL92.”

“Identify yourself!” the gravelly voice boomed over the com.

Dezmara tapped the control panel in front of her to activate the voice-veiler. “This is
The Ghost
. Fellini sent me to pick up and transport a shipment.”

A blue light on Dezmara’s display screen suddenly flashed to life along with coordinates that defined a limited approach vector. “Don’t stray from the coordinates—dock six!” the Portmaster shouted.

“Geez, and I thought
I
was having a bad day,” she said with an air of new-found optimism. Dezmara cued the holodex for the engine room and then settled back in her seat with the controls again. “Sy, man the guns and clear out anything that looks like it might cause us grief, would ya?”

“You mean the mighty Dezmara Strykar can’t fly us through these little pebbles without help from her lowly mechanic? You must be losin’ your touch, luv.”

“I’m less worried about the asteroids than who or what might be out there hiding between them.”

“Right, I knew that,” Simon said, although the thought had never crossed his mind.

Dezmara throttled up
the
Ghost
and eased the controls forward. Some of the chunks of rock and minor planets were so enormous they appeared to be moving slowly as they circled past the ship, but Dezmara wasn’t fooled. She watched, counting in her head, like a child preparing to launch herself onto a whirling carnival ride. Dezmara saw an opening and jammed the throttles to their stops.
The
Ghost
shot forward: a black blur against the starlight. The engines glowed blue and hot in the vacuous cold of space as Dezmara banked the ship hard left to miss an oncoming asteroid.

“Sy, you’re strapped into that gunner’s chair, right?” she asked without taking her eyes off of the scene blazing by in front of her.

“Well, I bloody am now! What ‘bout our ill-mannered friend?”

“Doj is secured to the infirmary bed.”

“That’s good, luv. Now do us a favor and get us there in one piece!”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” she playfully chided as she yanked
the
Ghost
into a right-hand barrel roll to keep from being smashed between two large rocks on a collision course. Simon opened his clenched eyes after the ship leveled again and watched from behind the bulbous viewing panes encasing his gunner’s chair as the two boulders crashed together. The impact sent small bits of both asteroids spraying into the abyss as the remaining larger bodies ricocheted from each other and charted new paths of random mayhem.

“That was a close one, luv!”

“Closer than you know,” Dezmara said under her breath as she glanced down at the flashing light on the console. The beacon sent by the portmaster was blinking more rapidly, guiding t
he
Ghost
to Luxon’s location at the center of the Trinity Major asteroid belt.

“Why’re they makin’ us do all the fancy moves through the field of smashers, luv?” Simon said curiously. “We all know Luxon is on what’s left of Trinity Major, don’t we.”

“I think it’s a security measure. First, you don’t get the beacon signal if you’re not invited; and second, you’d be hard pressed to maneuver an entire attack fleet through the asteroids. If you approach from any other vector, they know you’re not friendly.”

The ship breached the inner perimeter of the asteroid belt and Dezmara eased the throttles back. She sat for a moment and gazed with terrible awe at yet another monument to the murderous cruelty of the Durax. There, in the clearing, exacting what little gravitational perturbation it could muster from its diminished, crippled form, was the remnant of a once lush and beautiful planet. Its gravitational forces were enough to keep the bulk of its fractured mass swirling nearby, but hopelessly out of reach for all eternity. By the looks of it, two thirds of the planet had spilled into the celestial void, and all that remained was a column of rock that jutted from its dead core like a mass of riddled, frail bone.

“Follow the beacon!” the gruff voice of the portmaster sounded over the holodex again.

“Aye-aye, cap’n!” Dezmara fired back sarcastically as she flipped off the com. “I’d like to meet this portmaster and giv’im a good reason to be in a bad mood. No matter how shitty your day’s been, things can
always
get worse!”

“Now, luv, don’t go off startin’ any trouble!” Simon said in a tone that sounded very close to pleading. “I ‘aven’t seen port—or a nice pint—in over a bloomin’ month!”

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff.” She crinkled her face like she had just swallowed some awful-tasting swill. “I’m sure it would taste fine if you didn’t drink it warm.”

“Oh, luv, you don’t know what you’re missin’. Like mum’s milk, it is!”

Dezmara could hear him licking his lips over the com and she let out a chuckle. “It has been a little while, hasn’t it?”

“You got that right, luv.”

“Okay, here’s the deal. Before you scurry off and belly up to the first bar you can find, I want the cargo loaded, weighed, and secured. Got it?”

“But, luv”

“No ‘buts,’ Sy. Business first. And I shouldn’t have to remind you that it’s this business that keeps you in as many pints as your greasy paws can carry whenever we’re in port.”

“Yes, ma’rm,” Simon said dejectedly, not trying the least little bit to hide his disappointment.

“Oh, buck up, ya big baby,” Dezmara teased as she adjusted the controls and banked
the
Ghost
toward the top of the column of rock towering from Trinity Major’s core. The beacon flashed and then held steady as the ship reached the three thousand foot mark.

“Hold your position!” the portmaster commanded.

Dezmara pushed the throttles to hover and nosed the front of her ship down so she could get a better view. She was directly above the column and staring down at a barren expanse of cracked and eroded rock. Many thousands of years ago, it was just a small part of the surface of Trinity Major—solid ground where people worked and built their homes; where children laughed and played—but this desolate patch of misshapen stone was all that was left. She shuddered to think that this could have been the fate of her home world—or worse.

As she studied the surface more closely, her eyes naturally focused on a peculiar sight. Almost directly in the center of the column’s top was a huge, dark circle. The circle was divided into perfect quadrants by four rectangular shapes that melded with its outer perimeter. “That thing must be miles across,” she said to no one in particular. “I wonder what it’s for?” As soon as the words escaped her lips, the ship’s sensors picked up movement and a three-dimensional projection of what was left of Trinity Major flickered from the console in front of her and hung in the air in tones of muted gray.

“Hmph,” she said quizzically and then looked through the forward viewing pane to make sure the ship’s computer system wasn’t coming down with a virus. “Well, I’ll be damned.” The sensors were working just fine. “Sy, you gotta see this to believe it.”

“What is it then, Dez? I’m a little busy preppin’ for the load job.”

“The surface of Trinity Major,” she said with wonder as she punched the controls and the image became larger.

“All right, I’ll dial it up on my screen,” Simon replied with a hint of irritation.

“You’re gonna want to see the real thing—trust me. Come back up to cockpit and have a look.”

After a few moments, Simon stomped back into the cockpit, wringing his furry hands together and scrunching his lips in frustration. “What’s so bloody…Blimey,” Simon said, looking at the hologram with the analytical marvel that only an engineer could have for such an amazing device. His mouth was slightly open as he looked the image up and down and then hurried to the viewing panes, pressing his face against the glass for a glimpse of the actual contraption.

The four rectangular shapes flanking the circle were actually giant platforms bolted deep into the crust of the planet. Each base supported an enormous forked arm between which hung a geared wheel. The four massive cogs bit into the lip of the circle and hoisted its colossal weight from the ground. Much to their surprise, both Dezmara and Simon realized that the circle was merely the top of a gigantic shaft. As the cogs on the mighty wheels passed their fulcrum point on the lip, rectangular blocks expanded from the shaft itself and meshed perfectly with the next tooth on each of the four gears. It seemed to last forever: the splined gears turned, the great gate crept further toward the heavens, new teeth expanded from the shaft and then the whole thing began again.

“If I had to wager,” said Simon, “I’d bet your friend the portmaster is in control of the entire works here. One push of a button an’ the whole thing seals it back up like a cork on a bot’le of Zonian port wine.” Dezmara broke from her fixation on the hologram and looked at the Kaniderelle with genuine surprise.

“I’m impressed you know what Zonian port wine is,” she said.

“Don’t let my rugged good looks fool ya, luv,” he said while keeping his eyes trained on the display. “”Neath this superbly conditioned exterior lies a refined gentleman.”

Dezmara rolled her eyes and made a noise with her mouth that sounded like she had sprung a leak.

“I’d bet next runs winnin’s those bumps on the ugly-stick there are pneumatically controlled,” he said as he pointed at the oily, gouged teeth on the shaft. “Wouldn’t surprise me if those little buggers didn’t snap into notches inside the bore—keep the whole thing locked in place, ya know?”

“Okay, Mr. I-know-everything-there-is-to-know-about-mechanical-crap-in-the-universe—since you’ve got it all figured out—how in the hell is that thing going to clear the opening so we can get in?”

“That, luv, is a good question,” Simon said earnestly.

They continued to stare at the digital representation, although the shaft was climbing so high, they could have peered out the viewing pane and gotten a better look. It had just passed fifteen hundred meters when it suddenly stopped.

“Trinity Medar’s your reference—proceed to the north face of the gate!” The portmaster’s gruff words interrupted their thoughts, and Dezmara was beginning to get tired of his orders.

“This jerk is really starting to piss me off!” she said as she zoomed the display to show the base of the shaft. “That damn thing’s not even out of the hole! How are we supposed to”

BEEP! The display auto-focused a few feet above where Dezmara had it fixed as it detected new movement on the shaft.

“Hmph,” said Dezmara as she shook her head and looked over at Simon. “So simple. Why didn’t
you
figure it out, genius?”

“Well…I figured they’d prob’ly do it somethin’ like that. Just wanted to give you a chance to figure it out on your own—that’s all.”

“Right,” she said as she engaged the throttles and pointed
the
Ghost
toward the modest, circular port opening below them on the side of the cylinder. As she breached the interior of the shaft, Dezmara slowed down and flipped on the exterior lights. They floated slowly into the aperture, and Simon let out a long whistle to punctuate his amazement.

“This thing’s meters thick,” he said as they passed through the opening. I bet it can take quite a bit of damage if someone decides they fancy whatever this gearworks is guardin’.”

“Yup, and this gate’s way too small for big transports—the kind that can carry troops in numbers—or multiple ships at one time. Nope, they funnel you in, one-by-one, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some serious fire power waiting at the other end.”

“Pretty secure,” Simon said with relief. But Dezmara didn’t share his enthusiasm.

They both fell silent as
the
Ghost
motored ever downward through the interior of the cylinder. There was nothing to see at first: no changes in color or texture; no marks, symbols, or decoration; and no inhabitants of the empty space inside the tube. The shaft remained featureless until the exterior lights changed. They weren’t as bright as before. Dezmara and Simon glanced out the viewing panes and saw that the lights weren’t reflecting off the oil-soaked walls of the cylinder anymore; instead, they fell on smooth, red stone. The orange and red rock swirled with bands of different colored material that glittered with the precious mineral that had once been the life blood of the planet.

As the lights shone on the passing strata, Dezmara caught glimpses of large rectangular cuts in the rock. Simon was right. The teeth on the cylinder locked it into the bore once it was lowered in order to seal the gate. It was exactly what Simon said it was—secure. And Dezmara didn’t like it.

As
the
Ghost
descended into the depths of Trinity Major, Dezmara’s claustrophobia chiseled away at her usually icy nerves. Her gut told her something wasn’t right as she looked at the seemingly endless lines of notches in the cylinder. She couldn’t help but think it would be way too easy to be trapped here. Her anxiety was mounting and she kept turning off the nav lights for signs they were drawing close to their destination. “Nothing yet,” she said as they stood there, bathed in the blue glow of the instrument panel for a few seconds before lighting up the tunnel again.