The Last Flight of the Argus (49 page)

Stephen
Gray watched from the safety of the far side of the decompression room as Balthazar exited the
Argus
. A graphic display on the corner of his faceplate showed the position of the Merc and the two he pursued. Stephen Gray smiled.

His way was clear to get back to the
Xendos
, and he would make it there well before B'taav or Inquisitor Cer. Provided, of course, they should somehow overpower Balthazar.

But Stephen Gray didn't understand why they retreated to the decompression room after being in sight of the
Xendos
. He walked the corridor outside the room and approached the communication amplification beacon. A few steps away from there he paused by the windows overlooking the landing bay and the vessel. He now understood why the Independent and the Inquisitor back-tracked.

“
Oh, Inquisitor. You parked her a little
too
out in the open,” Gray muttered and laughed. “Anyone could see you coming and close the Decompression doors before you got there.”

He eyed the beacon and noted its controls were set to dampen rather than amplify any signals.

“
Clever,” he said. Balthazar told him, back in the crevasse, what the codes were for activating the beacon, but either B'taav or Cer had already cracked the code and didn't bother setting up another. The equipment had served its use, so Stephen Gray shut it off.

The Epsillon industrialist began the walk to the
Xendos
. Unlike the Independent and the Inquisitor, he didn't fear anyone seeing him approach. In fact, he fully expected Francis Lane to try to shut him out. She wouldn't. Stephen Gray had seen to that before he left.

For as Balthazar was originally setting up the amplification beacon, Stephen Gray hastily changed the computer codes used to close the decompression chamber doors as well as activate the
Xendos’
flight controls. Because Saro Triste was near him all that time, Stephen Gray was forced to keep the encryption codes simple. But even simple codes would take a few minutes to crack, and that was all the time anyone needed to enter the ship from here.

He imagined Francis Lane's despair as she furiously tried to shut him out and fly away.

He laughed.

He could only imagine Francis Lane's face when he finally confronted her...and squeezed the life out of that scheming bitch.

B’taav
saw Balthazar exit through one of the holes above him.

He fired a shot but the Merc ducked away. B’taav jumped past a series of twisted and melted antennae and landed in a small service pit. The Independent ran its length before climbing out. Once again he looked for Balthazar, but there was no sign of him.

B’taav ran away as quickly as he could, taking a moment after each series of steps to look back. Now and again he thought he saw some movement, but could not be certain if it was the Merc or his imagination.

The asteroid dust on the outer surface of the
Argus
was very thick and B'taav's steps kicked it up. His footprints and the cloud of dust made him an easy target.

And that's ignoring the trackers,
B'taav thought. He still held Inquisitor Cer's tracker unit in his left hand. He could have thrown it away, but he wanted to lead Balthazar as far from the Inquisitor as possible.

A shadow flickered behind him, and B'taav whirled around. His eyes opened wide in horror as a metal tube slammed against his right arm. The impact shattered the bone and sent the Independent flying backwards. He lost his grip on Cer's tracker unit and it too went flying.

Fortunately, B’taav still held his fusion gun, but at the moment, and despite the intense pain, he was more worried about the condition of his suit. If the metal tube ripped a hole in it, he would be dead in seconds.

B’taav quickly assessed the damage while in mid-flight. He was relieved to find there was no tear in the suit's fabric.

B’taav slammed against a twisted post. Waves of pain splashed throughout his body. Several meters away and approaching fast was Balthazar. The Merc no longer bothered hiding.

B’taav raised his fusion gun and fired, but again the Merc was quicker. He dropped low and scurried away.

Though B'taav could fire well with his left hand, his accuracy, especially in these zero gravity conditions, simply wasn’t as good. And given his injury, if the Merc got close enough to engage in hand to hand combat, there was no way the Independent could offer even the ghost of a fight.

B'taav stumbled away from the twisted post. As he did, he once again spotted the Merc approaching.

Balthazar had no intention of letting B’taav get away.

CHAPTER SIXTY

Inquisitor
Cer jumped the melted remains of a defensive cannon unit and looked back. B’taav was a small figure moving farther away from her with Balthazar following close behind. The Inquisitor aimed her fusion gun at the Merc, not caring that she might draw his attention. If she could take him out...

Just as she was about to pull the trigger, the Merc slipped out of sight behind a rectangular post.

Inquisitor Cer tried to re-acquire her target, but the Merc was gone. So too, she realized, was B’taav.

For several seconds she remained where she was, hoping to catch sight of either man. The clock in her head told her she couldn't afford to waste any more time. Reluctantly, she turned away. As much as it pained her to abandon her ally in the middle of a fight, the mission was too important. If she didn't make it to the
Xendos
in time, they were
both
dead.

Maddox
fought off a fresh wave of nausea and resumed his slow crawl. His mind was a jumble of images from the past and the present and nothing made much sense anymore. Nothing but one thought:

You need to
kill
Francis Lane.

The words gave him strength. Strength enough to crawl another few feet.

“
I need to kill Francis Lane,” he muttered. Each move was a small victory. Each move got him closer to that woman.

When he heard a voice coming from down the corridor, Maddox stopped. He feared he was suffering a hallucination. The voice persisted. He listened to it, tried to identify it. It was Francis Lane. With a start, Maddox realized he was only feet away from her room.

I'm almost there.

A fresh surge of energy that almost eclipsed the pain and exhaustion filled him. He crawled forward.

He was almost there, and he inched along.

He was almost there...his work would be done. He'd be able to rest...to sleep...to...to...

Maddox could no longer move. His body had given all it could and would not move another inch.

Come on!
He thought, but his limbs felt like they were encased in cement.
I should be upset. I should be angry.

I should...

Exhaustion gripped him. He closed his eyes and was gone.

Stephen
Gray reached the door leading into the
Argus
’ landing bay and entered the code. The door slid open.

Before approaching the
Xendos
, he crouched down and eyed the far side of the landing bay. He adjusted the magnification on his suit's faceplate until the distant entry became crystal clear. All details of the area came into focus, including wrecked equipment and antique machines. Of greatest importance was the missing landing bay doors, the route Inquisitor Cer and B'taav intended to use to get to the
Xendos
.

They were nowhere in sight.

Stephen Gray expected this. The display on the side of his visor offered the latest readings of their positions, and it indicated they were running the opposite direction with Balthazar close behind. Still, Stephen Gray gave the landing bay doors a look. He was a cautious man and wanted to be sure before moving.

When he was, he ran toward the
Xendos
.

“
I’m
trying hard not to get angry, but you’re making it very difficult.”

Nathaniel withstood another burst of energy from the yellow disk. Afterwards, the young boy offered his guardian the same contemptuous stare.

Francis Lane shook with rage.

“
You’re going to talk,” she said. “I’ve got plenty of time and if the disk doesn’t do the job, there are other means. Primitive ones.”

The boy said nothing.

Francis Lane sighed. She reached for the pain disk and, instead of raising its settings, actually lowered the intensity. There was little to be gained in melting the boy's brain. At least at this point.

Nathaniel went limp. He fell sideways onto the bed and let out a whimper.

“
Rest up while you can.”

Francis Lane eyed the small computer she brought along on this journey. It remained linked to the
Argus'
central computer operating system. A cursor flashed in a blank box. To gain access to the super juggernaut's data banks, she needed the proper access code.

The one the boy refused to give.

Francis Lane walked to her closet and pulled out a container from her small suitcase. She laid down its contents on the bed. Among the various toiletries was a small knife. Francis Lane examined its blade before running it over the palm of Nathaniel’s left hand. She pressed down hard, drawing blood.

Nathaniel shrieked and tried to pull his hand away, but Francis Lane held tight.

“
That was just to get your attention,” she said. “You have ten fingers, child. For now.”

She grabbed the boy's pinky finger, twisting it away from the others while thrusting the blade at its base.

“
Last chance, Nathaniel,” she said.

The boy still did not reply.

“
Have it your way.”

Francis Lane gripped the boy and pressed the blade down hard. A horrific snap was followed by a scream.

Francis Lane released the boy's arm and drew several breaths.

“
Nine more,” she said.

Tears flowed down the boy’s face. He dared not look at his tormentor, but neither did he speak. More seconds passed, and Francis Lane's patience was quickly exhausted.

“
You asked for it,” she said.

Francis Lane again grabbed the boy's arm. He tried to pull away, but didn't have the strength to free himself from her grip. Francis Lane pulled at the pinky finger on his other hand and placed the blade against it.

“
Talk, Nathaniel,” she said. “Don't make me do this again.”

The boy let out a whimper. Still he did not talk.

Francis Lane's jaw tightened.

“
Fuck you!” she spat. The grip on the knife's handle tightened. “You can stop this, Nathaniel. Remember that!”

She drew a deep breath and was about to press down—

A loud buzz roared from the outer corridor and was amplified through the ship’s speaker system. It was a proximity alert. Someone was approaching the
Xendos
.

Francis Lane released the boy and ran to the window. She saw someone in an environmental suit run past the debris in the
Argus'
landing bay. The person was moving directly toward the ship.

“
Who the hell?” Francis Lane muttered. What did this person hope to gain? The ship's decompression doors were closed. She had closed them herself—

Suspicion filled Francis Lane's mind. She pressed her face against the window and looked to the far right. She saw a light coming from the rear of the ship. From the decompression chamber.

The outer doors were still open.

“
Son of a bitch!”

Francis Lane ran to her computer and clicked on a series of keys. The
Argus'
operating system was replaced with that of the
Xendos
. She clicked on another series of commands.

Decompression doors closed and locked,
the monitor read.

“
You fixed the controls, didn’t you?” she muttered. “You made me think they were closed when they were still open.”

She ordered the computer to shut the doors, but received an error message. The computer believed the doors were already closed, so any command to close them was therefore in error.

Francis Lane swore and switched to the navigation controls. Like Stephen Gray and Saro Triste, she too had hidden her piloting skills from the rest of the group. Now, if she could lift off and take the ship outside the
Argus
, it wouldn't matter if the decompression doors remained open or not. All she had to do was...