Gray Panthers: Dixie (14 page)

New Mississippi, planet Dixie

8 November 2128

“Montgomery, you have the point.” Sam stood at the top of a wide concrete staircase that went steeply down into the dark. They’d borrowed a beamer to cut the lock that secured the huge metal double door.

“Yes, ma’am.” Montgomery bent over as she inched down the stairs. All she could see was what the light on her carbine exposed. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she swung the beam from one end of the hall to the other. There was no light switch to be found.

The hall was ten feet wide, the ceiling ten feet high. The light from the carbine wasn’t bright enough to reach all the way to the end of the hall. Montgomery’s grip on the carbine grew moist as she began to perspire. She started to imagine monsters stalking her in the dark, as the very blackness seemed to touch her shoulders.

The soft sound of footsteps reached her as the rest of the team continued down the steps. More beams of light pierced the darkness as the other scouts formed behind her.

Scotty mentally berated himself.
I should have requested to be attached to a shuttle unit,
he thought as he nervously checked the power setting of the beamer. The optical sight on the beamer allowed him to see the entire hallway as if it were daytime.

The sharp clatter of a bouncing metal ball pierced the quiet. A couple of the scouts caught a glimpse of it, black against the white beam of their lights.

“Down!” was all Montgomery had time to yell. The scouts all hit the ground and the chemical grenade exploded in a brilliant flash as it melted Montgomery’s entire torso. The rest of the team was blind from the flash.

Scotty realized what he had to do. “Everyone flat, now!” he shouted from on his knees. Unable to see, he fumbled with the beamer, hoping that he was putting it on the second setting and changing the power to three. He aimed down the hallway and fired, first at what he estimated was waist-level, then chest-high. The beamer fired silently. From down the hall the sound of howls like an army of angry cats mixed with cries of pain and surprise. A haunting quiet ensued, and the smell of burnt hair and charred meat wafted through the dark. No one from the team moved. They could see only white from the explosion, their ears still ringing from the concussion as they strained to hear anything at all.

The Gray Panthers were first on the scene, and they were horrified at what they saw. Thirty or forty Red Coats were strewn about the deck, each one in no fewer than three pieces from Scotty’s beamer fire.

Scotty and the scouts were scattered on the ground a short distance from the huge pile of gore, blind and deaf and ready to open fire in defense. McGuire reached for the hand of the first scout she found and did her best to reassure him as she helped him safe and then sling his weapon. Another Gray Panther then walked him to the surface, and the procedure was repeated until the last of the team was safely out of the tunnel.

Scotty let himself be guided from the skirmish site. He was happy to be led away from the smell of the eviscerated bodies. His balance was off, and he tried desperately to hear or see anything other than the bells and bright white light. The breeze felt good as he was directed to sit in the soft grass, and the sun warmed his face.

Dixie ship Texas, Dixie space

9 November 2128

Captain Perkins was relieved as the reports came in from Dixie. The pandemic was curable. The Gray Panthers were sending four shuttles and forty Gray Panthers for him to reclaim the Atlanta. The addition of the Gray Panthers calmed his fear of the entire fleet becoming infected. Now they could take real action.

Master Sergeant Marty Epstein was eager to get on board the ship and get started. He’d managed to hide the fact that he was claustrophobic. His only desire was to get out of the shuttle.

“We have docked with the Atlanta. You may open the hatch.” The announcement had barely finished before Epstein rushed through the hatch. Their orders were to proceed to the bridge from the docking station and help every crewman they could.

The ship was lit only by emergency lighting, so the Gray Panthers donned their special optics to better see in the dark. The air had a thick, putrid quality, making it slightly uncomfortable to breathe.

Epstein and the others didn’t have far to walk until they found the first crewmembers. Holding back the urge to vomit, they rushed toward the wobblers. The wobblers simply stared as they were prodded with the sticks. The Gray Panthers didn’t wait to see if it would work before pressing on toward the bridge.

“Hold for five, guys. Drink some water while we can,” Epstein said as he took a long swig. He listened on his radio as the other teams reported their success. Many areas had large groups of wobblers, which usually revealed trapped groups of crewmen. Most were dehydrated but otherwise okay.

The crew had to be subdued from returning to their duty stations until they were reminded that the ship was still infested with wobblers.

“Back on the clock, guys. We should be close to the bridge.” Epstein turned the wheel to manually open the hatch and was surprised at what he found on the bridge. The wobblers were agitated and seemed to be taking turns going after a small wobbler that was nude except for his white officer’s hat. The GPs quickly made the rounds, prodding the bridge crew cum wobblers. Epstein looked at the last wobbler, the one wearing only a hat.

“Pleased to meet you, Admiral Pierre Gustave Toutant-Beauregard,” Epstein said. “Time for you to take a nap.” As he administered the prod, he thought,
I almost feel sorry for the pompous prick.

Libra cargo ship Profit, Dixie space

9 November 2128

Epstein had mixed feelings. He wanted to rescue the Dixians, yet he also wanted to blast the Libra ship to hell. He felt the walls of the shuttle closing in on him, and there was no air as he fought another attack of claustrophobia.

“We’ve locked onto the ship. All signs say we have good atmosphere on the other side of the hatch,” the shuttle pilot reported. The cargo ship had been warned that they were coming and had been ordered to cooperate.

“Lets do this. Don’t take no shit from these Libra, but don’t start anything either that you can’t finish on your own.” Epstein opened the hatch to see three tall Libra standing in front of him.

“Welcome to the Profit. I am Captain Krupp. This is my first officer, Lieutenant Krupp. That is Lieutenant Krupp, the security chief.”

Epstein tried not to stare. The Libra were all tall and thin. Their skin was a transparent pink, with deposits of baby-like fatty tissue. Their bald, pink heads had tiny black, evil-looking snake eyes. When they opened their mouth, petite fangs could be seen. They had no ears or nose, just a single hole in the top of their head. They all wore simple white tunics with badges on their shoulders.

“Take me to the prisoners, now!” Epstein ordered. “If we don’t report in to our ship, we will be destroyed along with you. Now move!” The three creatures before him seemed to slink down as they walked.

The ship appeared to have had better days. The bulkheads showed severe rust in areas, and the pipes that ran along the corridors showed signs of many repairs. Some had buckets under them.

The Libra stopped in front of a huge hatchway and explained that the prisoners were in the hold on the other side. Epstein watched as the officer punched in a sequence of characters on a pad mounted on the bulkhead. The hatchway opened slowly, with a grinding noise like gears that didn’t want to mesh.

The hold looked like something from a bad horror movie. There were four levels of shelves, and bodies were piled three and four deep. Every effort had been made to get as many bodies in as possible. None of them seemed to be alive.

Epstein did his best to control his anger and revulsion as he asked, “Alive?” The three officers looked at him in a peculiar way.

“Of course they are alive. The entire hold is one huge stasis chamber. That way they sleep and stay healthy. We do not have to feed or water them.”

“How many?” Epstein was struggling to control his emotions, first the rage he’d felt when he thought these people were all dead, and now the immense relief, knowing that they were okay and would soon be rescued.

“Three thousand in each hold, nine thousand total,” the captain replied.

“What other cargo do you have?” Epstein asked. The three started to argue among themselves, and Epstein felt his anger rising again.

“Who the hell do I have to throw out of an airlock before I get an answer, dammit?” The translator couldn’t translate every word, but the three officers got the gist and they started to huddle together.

“We have a cargo hold full of native transports,” the captain answered.

“I’m not sure what the Dixians call this, but on Earth we call it looting. Sometimes it carries a penalty of death.” Epstein wondered if anyone would say anything if he did space the Libra. “How many shuttles do you have to transport the Dixians back to the surface?”

The Libra again started to argue among themselves. Epstein looked behind him at his nine men. He could see they were ready to laugh at how frustrated he was. He whispered to them what he wanted done.

Turning back around to face the bickering Libra, he order loudly, “Take the security chief.” Two Gray Panthers picked up the lightweight alien, whose legs windmilled beneath him as the men marched down the hall carrying the alien between them.

“Now, how many shuttles do you have on board? I am getting unhappy.”

“What have you done to our little brother?” The remaining two aliens seemed to have shrunken, huddling against each other.

“If you don’t answer my questions, he will either be spaced or we will eat him for dinner. Answer my questions and make me happy, and I will return him to you unharmed. Now, how many shuttles are on board?”

“Twelve,” the first officer replied.

“Eight,” the captain answered at the same time.

“Okay, I’m going to space your brother—”

“We have eight, not including four military shuttles that are cargo.”

“Are there any military on board?” Epstein cursed himself for not asking that question when he first came aboard.

“Only four. They are shuttle pilots.”

“How long did it take to get all the Dixians on your ship?”

“Only two days,” the captain proclaimed proudly.

“Well, I’ll make a deal with you. You get them all back on the surface in a day, and I’ll give you back your brother—and maybe allow you to return to Libra with more than the clothes on your back. The clock starts now!”

The two Libra stood in stunned surprise and then jumped into action. Bowing to Epstein, they disappeared down a corridor.

“Dixie ship Atlanta, this is Recovery Team One.”

“Go ahead, Recovery Team One.”

“We have nine thousand survivors on board. Be advised, crew will be returning them to Dixie’s surface using their shuttles. Do not fire on the shuttles and advise forces on the surface not to fire on them.”

“Good job, Recovery Team One. How did you negotiate with the crew to return the survivors to the surface?”

“I promised not to space the crew at this time.”

Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie

10 November 2128

Lieutenant Krupp from the Libra cargo ship Profit was a happy Libra. He was the best shuttle pilot on the Profit and would get the bonus for delivering the most Dixians back to the planet.

“This is Krupp, to all shuttles. Be sure to stay out of my way!” The Libra military pilot had been happy to let Krupp use his shuttle, as long as he could stay out of sight. The shuttle was bigger and faster than the other shuttles. The regular shuttles were all old and in questionable condition.

“Krupp, coming in for landing.” The shuttle was pushed to its limits as the pilot pulled up at the last second, and was on the ground only a hundred feet from the city.

“Okay, everybody, you are home. Remember, it was Lieutenant Krupp that brought you home.” Krupp smiled until he saw the number of injured passengers.
Oh well,
he thought.
They are delivered. That’s all that matters.
He had delivered a hundred on his first trip! He watched the other shuttles land as he departed for the ship.

“Can anybody tell me what the hell is going on here?” The Honorable William Johnson, mayor of New Mississippi and general of the guard, had barely departed the shuttle before it took off. He had a broken ankle from the flight and no memory of ever getting on a ship—nor could he figure out why he stank so bad.

Arizona Space Ship Beater, Earth space

10 November 2128

“All hands, this is the captain. Check out the debris fields and number of ships. Looks like we missed the big one.” A new sense of shame combined with guilt began to eat at Captain Johnson, and he couldn’t turn away from the wreckage.

“Arizona Space Ship Beater, Gray Panther Control.”

“Gray Panther Control, Beater. Go ahead, please.”

“Beater, you are cleared to return directly to ground operation. Captain and first officer to report immediately to Mr. Abdul Bahadur. Ground transportation will be waiting.”

“Copy that, Beater. Out,” Johnson said. “Damn. I wonder what happened to Dan? And who the hell is this Arab guy?”

“The Abdul guy you already met. It’s Abby. Since he’s production manager, he probably has some new toys for the Beater,” Poland suggested.

“You can bring us in, Commander Poland. I need to try to clean up my paperwork before we get home.”

Seated at his desk, Johnson thought,
I wonder how quickly I can have Beater do this for me or just pencil whip it?
As he picked up the first item he was surprised to see that it was a request from Short Blade to be considered for officer training.

“Beater, are there any regulations that would keep Short Blade from being recommended as an officer candidate?”

“The only requirement he would fail is height, which a medical officer must determine after the application has already been submitted. Review of the candidate’s records and performance would make it difficult to deny him initial acceptance into the program.”

“Thank you, Beater. Are there any requirements you have while we are on the ground?”

“Numerous plates on the hull were damaged when the gas giant exploded. They should be repaired or replaced while on the planet. If the hull were polarized there could be failures, so we only had force fields to protect the ship.

“Why didn’t you report this sooner?”

“Sensors did not notice the problem until we dropped from FTL space. There was a short in the system, so it appeared that the hull plates were normal.”