The Last Flight of the Argus (41 page)

“
You look worried, Francis,” Saro Triste said. “Don't be. Inquisitor Cer will find, and kill the Independent.”

“
Are you certain?” Francis Lane said.

“
She will do as she’s commanded,” Saro Triste replied. “My orders are absolute and unquestionable.” He stared past Francis Lane and Nathaniel. “Unlike those you issue to your Mercs.”

A flicker of anger, a remnant of past arguments, appeared in Francis Lane’s eyes.

“
We agreed to these actions,” she said. “Melchor had the honor of killing Frasier and Maddox. If there is blame, it will be shared.”

“
Yes,” Triste replied. “But
I
suggested sending both Melchor and Balthazar together do the job, not Melchor alone.”

“
Frasier would become suspicious if both Mercs showed up to just escort him topside.”

“
My dear Francis, we are on the
Argus
. At this point, why bother with subtleties? By the way, where is Balthazar?”

“
Searching for Melchor,” Francis Lane said. “He's probably getting rid of Maddox's body.”

“
The bodies could wait,” Stephen Gray said. “The Mercs could have helped your Inquisitor get rid of B'taav.”

“
You fear the Independent that much?”

“
I don’t fear the Independent, but it’s a mistake to underestimate him,” Stephen Gray said.

“
She can take care of him on her own.”

“
Yeah, but why risk it? Besides, there were other alternatives, ways we could have handled this differently.”

“
You think B'taav could have worked for us?”

“
Why not?” Stephen Gray said. “People like B'taav do their job for money. Besides, he is our second... ”

The color in Stephen Gray’s face evaporated.

“
What?” Saro Triste asked.

“
The Independent…He’s our second pilot. Inquisitor Cer is our first.”

“
By the Gods,” Francis Lane muttered. “They’re
both
out there. How could we be so stupid!”

“
Inquisitor Cer needs to return,” Stephen Gray said. “Screw the B'taav. Let him wander all he wants. Let's get Inquisitor Cer back!”

“
She will take care of him!” Saro Triste said.

“
Look, Cardinal, accidents happen. B’taav might—”

“
B’taav is nothing compared to an Inquisitor of the Phaecian Empire. She will do her job, she will kill the Independent, and we’ll have one less problem to deal with.”

“
You need to get her back,” Stephen Gray demanded.

Saro Triste folded his arms. He made no move toward the communicator.

“
What’s the matter? Won’t she follow your commands?”

“
Issuing a death sentence is something we do not take lightly,” Saro Triste said. “Once this command, is made, it stands. Until the job is done.”

“
Oh, for—”

“
I would ask you not mock our beliefs.”

“
Look,” Stephen Gray insisted. “We all may know, on a rudimentary level, how to fly this craft. But there's no way we could get through that asteroid field and back to
Titus
. Hell, I doubt we could even make it out of the
Argus’
landing bay. And even if we did, what if we had a mechanical failure on our way back to
Titus
? What would we do then?”

Saro Triste was unmoved.

“
The matter is closed. Inquisitor Cer will complete her job.”

“
You noble types are so fucking stubborn,” Stephen Gray said. “Let's hope that doesn't send us to the grave.”

Francis Lane stepped between Stephen Gray and Saro Triste.

“
All right,” she said. “You've made your points. If Inquisitor Cer eliminates B’taav and makes her way back, we’re fine. If things work out the other way, and B’taav somehow gets the better of her—”

“
Such a thing will not happen,” Saro Triste said.

“
If such an unthinkable thing
should
happen, we’re still fine,” Francis Lane concluded. “In the end, B’taav has to come back here for he has no other choice. If he’s shows up, we deal with him from a position of strength. We can tell him Inquisitor Cer acted alone, that she was out for revenge because of his involvement in the Tamarin campaign. In the end, he'll listen to what we say. He won't believe it, but we have the only means out of here.”

Both Saro Triste and Stephen Gray considered Francis Lane’s words.

“
We’re almost at the end,” Stephen Gray said after a few seconds. “We’ve hit a couple of bumps on the way but you're right. In a few more hours, we’ll be done.”

“
Exactly,” Francis Lane said. “But from here on in, we don’t let anything else slip.”

“
Agreed,” Saro Triste said.

Stephen Gray eyed young Nathaniel. The boy stood near Francis Lane. His eyes were half-closed and he didn’t appear to have heard or understood a word of their conversation.

“
What do we do now?” Francis Lane asked.

Stephen Gray’s gaze remained on Nathaniel.

“
It’s time we got our money’s worth from this boy.”

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

B’taav
stepped past cargo boxes the size of small buildings while pushing away packing material and other unidentifiable floating debris.

The lights coming from his environmental suit helmet illuminated the corridor before him. He swept the flashlight stitched into the suit’s right forearm from side to side. He moved along quickly, but paused now and again to get his bearings.

B'taav eventually stopped before an enormous decompression chamber, the largest he had ever seen. A small fleet of ships the size of the
Xendos
could certainly pass through it.

“
Nothing about this place is small,” B'taav muttered.

The Independent adjusted the illumination of his helmet and ran the beam across the chamber's far walls. The opposite wall was crushed in, likely the result of a collision between the ship and an asteroid. The wall held despite the blow, but stress fractures as large as the
Dakota
were left in the thick metal paneling. At a few points the stress was severe enough to cause jagged cracks. B’taav spotted asteroids floating in space just beyond.

B’taav soon reached the other end of the chamber and paused before another enormous door. This one was at least ten stories high.

Really stretches the definition of a “door”.

B’taav shone his flashlight across the base of the metal structure, eventually finding the computer paneling that operated it. As with the much smaller entry to the landing bay, he pried the paneling off and removed the drained battery, replacing it with a fresh cell. He then waited, and hoped, for the computer system to boot up.

His wait proved long, and the Independent worried his luck had run out.

“
Come on,” B'taav said. If he was to have any chance at all, he needed to get past this chamber.

More minutes passed, and B'taav grew increasingly concerned. He looked around, trying to see if there was some other way past this point. He saw nothing close by. A minute passed. Two. Worry filled the Independent's face. Just when he was about to look for an alternate route, the computer panel came alive.

“
Took your time,” B'taav said. He punched in the “334466” code and hoped the code was reused on these levels. The door didn’t budge.

We’ll have to do this the hard way.

B’taav retrieved his computer pad from a side pocket on his environmental suit and placed it over the computer keys. The lock picking software was initiated and several red lights flickered on the device’s body. After a few moments, a display read “Alpha Alpha 345 Theta 1”.

The Independent keyed the code in and a series of intense vibrations shook the ground around him. The Independent feared the whole ship was falling apart. And then the doors slowly opened.

B'taav stepped inside and shone his light at the chamber beyond. It was as large as the one he just exited and packed from floor to ceiling with even more supply crates. The crates carried labels identifying the cargo as machine equipment, spare parts, tools, and various brands of coolant and engine oils.

Before moving deeper into this new chamber, B’taav looked back into the chamber he just exited. He noticed a flicker of light coming from the door leading into it from the landing bay. As he feared, someone from the ship was after him.

B’taav ordered the enormous door shut.

Inquisitor
Cer stepped into the decompression chamber and felt the floor vibrate. At the far end of the room she spotted movement and realized the far wall was actually an enormous sliding door. It was moving down, back to the floor.

Cer took full advantage of the weightless conditions and leaped forward. Despite her best efforts, she could not reach the door before it closed. With one final, heavy vibration, the door sealed and locked into place.

Inquisitor Cer examined the computer paneling beside the door. B’taav didn’t have time to shut it down or, had he wanted to, destroy it.

Wouldn’t be a good idea anyway
, Inquisitor Cer thought.
This is your only way back out.

Inquisitor Cer keyed in the main numerical code Francis Lane gave her and, like the Independent before her, waited to see if it would work.

Balthazar
opened the door leading into the small maintenance closet. Francis Lane, Stephen Gray, and Saro Triste crowded into the closet and stood over the remains of Melchor.

Francis Lane noted the bruises on his hands.

“
He put up a struggle,” she said. “Frasier died in his chair, unaware he was poisoned. Maddox was incapable of fighting back.”

“
Then who?” Saro began. His eyes grew dark. “B'taav. How the hell?”

“
Maybe we'll get a chance to ask him. He somehow found out what Melchor was up to. Maybe he entered Maddox’s room while Melchor was in the process of disposing of Maddox’s—”

Francis Lane gasped.

“
Maddox isn’t dead,” she said. “That’s why B’taav hid Melchor’s body. He was buying time. He wanted us to
think
Melchor was getting rid of Maddox.”

“
Have Maddox and the Independent formed an alliance?” Stephen Gray said.

“
If so, B’taav might not be looking for the
Charybdis
bomb after all,” Francis Lane said. “He means to destroy the
Argus
.”

“
How?” Saro Triste asked.

“
If he has converted a computer pad into a lock picking device, is it possible he's made it sophisticated enough to decode the
Argus'
self-destruct mechanism?”

“
Picking the lock on common usage doors and accessing one of the most sensitive pieces of information on a military vessel are two very different things,” Francis Lane said.

“
Then B’taav took a great gamble and lost,” Saro Triste said.

“
Did he?” Stephen Gray said. “It is even more imperative than ever your Inquisitor take the Independent out. In the meantime, we have to find Maddox.”

“
What possible harm could that cripple do to us?” Francis Lane countered.

“
Plenty. If I were B’taav, I’d place Maddox in a sensitive part of the
Xendos
and give him the means to disable this ship. Maddox would die a very happy man if he could seal us in this tomb.”

“
Then we need to find him,” Saro Triste said.

“
No,” Francis Lane countered. “If B’taav did as you say, searching for Maddox would ensure we lose this ship.”

“
What should we do? Nothing?!”

“
Time is on our side, not Maddox’s,” Francis Lane said. “Assume our work takes several days. Perhaps even a week or two. To us, that's not so bad. We’ve got plenty of supplies and we're healthy. The same cannot be said of Maddox.”

“
You're hoping Maddox's injuries eventually kill him?” Saro Triste mocked. “Or do you hope to starve him out? What if he realizes we’re waiting and decides to go ahead and sabotage the
Xendos
anyway?”

“
He hasn’t done anything yet, which means
for now
he believes B’taav will succeed in what he’s doing,” Francis Lane said. “So
for now
we keep everything as it is. B’taav undoubtedly left Maddox with some food and water and whatever medicines he could find. He’ll last, but each minute that passes he'll grow weaker and his supplies dwindle. We just make sure Maddox doesn’t know how B’taav –or we– are progressing. Waiting for good news may prove Maddox’s downfall.”

Inquisitor
Cer's fingers ran across the computer panel beside the massive decompression door and typed in the 334466 code. When nothing happened, she re-entered the code. The computer took the information, considered it, and again rejected it.