Metal Boxes - At the Edge Page 25

  At the bottom of the ladder, he started to turn right, but Tuttle grabbed him and pulled him left.

  Thinking about saving lives, he keyed his comms, “Marybeth, how are the people we’ve rescued so far?”

  Marybeth said, “We’re ready for them. Everything is set up in the shuttle bay.”

  “What do you mean? They aren’t there yet? Where are they?”

  “Well, dummy, it is a long walk from wherever you set them free. It must be eight kilometers or more along this spacedock. We can see them, but most of them aren’t moving very fast. They—”

  “Dammit, Beffie-pie! Don’t make them walk. Go get them.”

  “What?”

  Stone keyed his comms to the navigator left in charge of the Platinum Pebble. “Gordy, where are you?”

  “Sorry, Boss. Heading down to the shuttle bay now. Preacher Mary will keep an eye on the space around us. I think I found the nav point the Hyrocanians use to jump into the system.”

  Stone said, “Grab every cart you can and use anyone who can drive one to go get those people.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “I’m not a sir anymore, Gordy. Do you know how to link the luggage carts?”

  Gordy made a rude noise and said, “If you aren’t a sir, then I never met one in my fifty-year navy career. I remember hearing about a snot-nosed young midshipman barely out of the academy who taught a gaggle of trumped up officers how to chain the carts together. I’ve never done it, but I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  “Get those people taken care of, Gordy.”

  “You’re ordering a fat man to graze at the dessert table, Boss. I’m long gone on my way.”

  Stone said, “Hector?”

  “Hustling up here, Boss. I’ve conscripted a few of our healthier guests to start herding some of the other livestock. Some don’t herd so well.”

  Stone laughed, “Piglets didn’t herd well the first time we set them lose, either. Let’s make sure we don’t leave anyone or anything behind.”

  “Aye, aye, Boss.”

  Tuttle said in his ear, “That boy is eminently trainable.”

  Stone caught a scent of milk chocolate. Turning a corridor corner, he saw Peebee and a group of piglets digging into the deck.

  Peebee typed into her TTS, “We are almost through.” She hefted a tri-barrel cannon, waving its triple muzzle around. “I won’t be able to fit through the hole and this popgun may do more damage than we want.”

  Using STS, a piglet said, “I’ll go through first.” A flurry of other volunteers tried to contradict him.

  Stone said, “Tuttle drops through first, then me. We drop in camouflaged. Maybe we can subdue—”

  A piglet in the hole of the deck interrupted. “Breeching their ceiling now, Signore Stone.”

  Tuttle grabbed the little alien by a strap on his tool belt and lifted him from the hole. Flicking on her gilley setting, she jumped into the hole feet first.

  Though Stone saw her outline, they both had their IFF on, so friendly fire would not be a concern. The ceiling gave way and she dropped out of sight. He followed her into the hole with a quick hop. Rather than let go and fall all the way into the engineering compartment, he grabbed the edge of the hole with his left hand and hung there.

  Tuttle hit the deck below, crouched down, rolled to the side, and swung her right arm in a sweeping motion. Two technicians at a control board were brushed to the side before they knew anyone was there.

  He smiled at the memory of a training session at the academy where he had hung from the ceiling and shot an enemy intruder on the top of his head. He had fired without warning or hesitation. Reaching over his right shoulder and pulling out his rifle, he set comms to broadcast and shouted, “Surrender now. Stand down or you will be killed.”

  An older man ducked behind the massive fuel tanks that fed the engines spinning metal discs. “Who are you and why should I surrender to you?”

  Stone bellowed, “This is Ensign Blackmon Stone of the UEN and I’m here serving the emperor’s writ. Give up or die.” He was not in the UEN any longer and his rank had been stripped away, but it sounded more impressive than saying he was Trey Stone, a wealthy man’s kid. Plus, he would rather lie to the man than kill him.

  The old man threw up his hands and stood up. “Give it up, boys.”

  Stone glanced down at his feet as a huge man swung a heavy fire ax. It swished through the air. He swung it again, probing for Tuttle.

  Stone could see Tuttle’s outline facing the man, backstepping slowly out of range of the heavy ax head. If the ax had impacted Tuttle’s suit, it would only provide the suit with a bit more kinetic energy to store for later use. The only damage might be to his own hands when the ax handle vibrated painfully.

  While Tuttle was willing to let the man tire himself out, Stone did not want to waste time on one man too stupid to give up on a lost cause. He flexed the fingers of his left hand and dropped. Stretching his left foot slightly, he tapped the man on the way past. The weight of the suit shattered the man’s shoulder, crushing bone to tiny pieces. The strong man crumpled to the deck unconscious.

  Stone deactivated his gilley setting, popping into view. He pointed at the old man. “You. Unlock your hatches.” He stepped from under the hole and a rain of piglets dropped into the room.

  Looking up, he saw Peebee looking down. “Go find your sister. Help her and Tim get this ship cleared. We have to get back into the fight of clearing this spacedock.”

  Peebee wonked in laughter. “Jay says the ship is clear except for engineering. She’s waiting for us at the main hatch. Let’s go find some Hyrocanians to kill.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Stone pushed the last of the freighter’s engineers onto the spacedock corridor. Marybeth waved at him and pushed Riley Lowther in his direction. The young man was taking his position as her security guard with more seriousness than it required, swinging a thick truncheon and slapping it loudly against the palm of his hand.

  “I’ll take these piles of lice poop off your hands, Stone.” Pushing and shoving the cowed freighter crew into a tight cluster, he prodded them into a quick trot down the long corridor toward the Platinum Pebble.

  Stone heard him shouting, “No, you don’t get to ride them carts. You walk and you’re lucky Signore Stone doesn’t just order you shoved out an airlock right now. Move it, lice poop.”

  Flicking through his HUD, he tagged Allie’s video pick up to see what she was seeing. “Having fun?”

  Allie chuckled, “Never better, Love. Heavy resistance ahead. We’re stalled out at dock fifteen. A mass of suited Hyrocanians have built a barricade across the corridor. If you have a minute…”

  Glancing around, he took a quick head count. His original team was still intact and ready to go. Dock fifteen was about twenty kilometers along the central corridor, a quick jaunt for anyone in a suit. His drascos could cover that distance at a full sprint without even breathing hard.

  Dollish looked livid, his usually happy face contorted with hostility. Hector looked a bit green, but Tuttle’s hand on his shoulder seemed to steady him. He was about to order them forward when Marybeth stepped up and smiled at them.

  “This is more exciting than I thought. I mean these people have been treated horribly, but they’ll be—”

  Dollish interrupted, “Shut up, Marybeth. This is not a party or some charity event. These people are hurting. Help them or get out of the way. We still have work to do.”

  Marybeth looked shocked. “You can’t talk to me that way…you…you short order cook! You’re fired.”

  Stone decided to ignore the byplay. “Let’s move. Tim and Hector cover our rear. On the bounce, people.” He took off in a distance covering bounce. Spinning 360-degrees in mid-air, he said, “Long and low, Hector. You’ll get it.” He rotated back to facing front in time to bounce again.

  Turning channels on his comms, he said, “Dash, the Galactic Marshal’s platoons are reporting a bit of a challenge near
dock fifteen. Are you clear to their location?”

  “Negative, Signore Stone. From what we can gather, most of the work is being done on the ships at sixteen, seventeen, and the last one in dock eighteen. We’ve encountered workers on every ship we came to. They’re not the problem, but their human overseers seem to object to our presence.”

  “The ships themselves?”

  “Locked down, but not secured or prepped for scuttling yet.”

  Stone bounced forward. “My team is on the way to Allie and Hammer’s location. I guess you can join us when you can.”

  Numos snorted, “Way ahead of you, boy. Already on our way. The whip crackers in charge of the labor force are not a major problem. We’ll clean them up later. We haven’t found any Hyrocanians that the Galactic Marshals haven’t already dealt with.”

  Another voice broke into their conversation, “Piglet troops on the way. Don’t kill all the Eaters before we get there.”

  Stone slid to a stop halfway between ramp fourteen and fifteen. Catching his feet under him, he ran the last five hundred meters. Running at a crouch, he ducked behind a pile of deck sheeting. A barrage of energy bolts sprayed the air overhead as his team slid up next to him.

  Jay and Peebee stopped a few hundred yards back. Requiring a bigger barricade, they huddled down behind a huge tracked bunker in the middle of the corridor. The bunker was still smoldering with a few flames licking out of its firing port. The sides and roof bulged outward like an over inflated balloon, giving witness to Hammermill having achieved his desire to shove a satchel charge up someone’s ass.

  Hammermill crackled over comms on a system-wide push. “Welcome to the party, folks. Let me introduce you to our hostess, Captain Allison Vedrian. As you can see, she is pinned down behind that jumbled pile of conduit and scrap metal. I, in my most humble manner, will be your moderator. I hope to be refereeing events from my perch above the dance floor.”

  Stone spotted Hammermill and a triplet of deputies high on a catwalk. They had set up a barricade of bulkhead sheeting and were working to spread vis-aids along the edge of the walk to get a good view of enemy positions.

  He said, “Thank you for the invitation, Hammer. Looks like a fun party.”

  Hammermill laughed, “Are you ready to dance, Signore Stone?”

  “Let’s get the band warmed up.”

  Allie snorted. “Can it, you two. There isn’t room for me behind this pile of scrap plumbing with all of the party favors our guests are throwing my way.”

  Numos said, “My teams thinks we can find away under the corridor decking. We’re on it now.”

  A trio of piglets raced forward a gantry’s bulk, but a torrent of bullets and energy bursts sent them scampering back the way they came.

  Stone asked, “What are our injuries?”

  Numos said, “Sorry, Signore Stone. I know you’re concerned about our people, but let’s not count our chips until the game is done.”

  “Right, Dash. Lieutenant Hammermill, do you have a plan to reach Allie?”

  “Negative. If Numos can get into a flanking position—”

  Jay said, “Mama? Let’s move this.”

  Stone turned to see Jay patting the bulging metal sides of the tracked bunker she and Peebee were using as cover. The flames had not diminished, but the undercarriage and tracks looked like they would still move. “Can you?”

  Hammermill asked, “Can we what?”

  Stone said, “Wait one, Hammer.” Jay gave an exact imitation of a human shrug. She put a shoulder to the bunker and with a light push—she moved it about half a meter. “Hold on, Dearest. I’m on the way.”

  Hammermill said, “I never doubted it, Sweetie. But should you be talking to me that way over open comms?”

  Allie laughed, “He was talking to me, you goof.”

  Keeping low, Stone sprinted back to the bunker. Rather than run behind it, he dove face first under its metal bulk, sliding on his belly. There—in the middle—was a trap door. He pounded his fist on the hatch release button and it dropped open, swinging on hinges. Fresh air flooded up into the vehicle, feeding whatever was burning. Flames licked back down the hole.

  Not waiting for the fire to die down, Stone grabbed the edges of the hatch and vaulted inside. His suit calculated the temperature as hot enough to bake rocks, but inside his suit he felt as comfortable as if he was sitting on a beach under an umbrella with a light sea breeze caressing his skin. His suit could handle this heat and more.

  Glancing around, he noticed the only things still burning were half a dozen Hyrocanian corpses. The fire sputtered and flickered like a candle made with poor quality wax. He assumed the aliens still burned because of the high fat and grease content of their obese bodies.

  The smoke was thick and black. His suit’s receptors fed the fragrance to him. Normally—that is when they were alive—Hyrocanians had the odor of roses dipped in maple syrup. Cooking in this oven, they had an odd smell of barbecued pork and hot pancakes. He switched off the odor receptors temporarily.

  Dollish popped up through the hatch. “Goodness, Boss. I love what you’ve done to the place.”

  Tuttle and Hector quickly followed.

  Stone asked, “Tim, are you feeling better? You sounded a bit snippy back there with Beffie-pie.”

  Dollish said, “Sorry about that, Boss. It was something about those two young girls I pulled out of that captain’s cabin. I’ve got two baby sisters that should be just about that age, and…” His voice faded away.

  Stone said, “I don’t have sisters, but thinking about those girls makes me feel a little better about killing the S.O.B.” He did not feel better about killing humans, but it was the only thing he could think of to say to Dollish.

  “Sorry about that, Boss. I wish it had been me that killed him. Look, I’ll apologize to your cousin later—”

  Stone laughed, “The hell you will. You apologize for what you said and I’ll fire you for real.”

  Stone pointed forward. “Barb and Hector, see if we can clear those firing ports. Dollish, can you do something about that fire? It won’t bother us if we stay closed up in our suits, but this smoke is a bit inconvenient and the flames make our HUD’s infrared optics useless.”

  “Negative, Boss. All I have is the water in my suit. One of the first things the UEN taught us in cook’s school was that you can’t put out a grease fire with water. I can dump them back out the hatch though.”

  “No. Leave them alone. Jay and Peebee will have to walk over them when they move us forward if we toss them out.”

  Hector waved his hands in the air trying to put out the flames on his gauntlets. He had dragged a burning Hyrocanian away from a firing port and the burning grease had stuck. It was slowly burning away. He appeared unconcerned about the flames when he pointed toward the front. “We’re going that way?”

  “That’s the plan,” Stone answered. “Shipmates are pinned down by enemy fire. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Hector’s gauntlets quit burning and he looked out the cleared port. “Nope. Just asking so I know which way to point my guns.”

  Stone said, “Two ports. Tim, you and I are on the left side. Barb, you and Hector take the right side. Ready?” It was not a real question and he did not wait for an answer. “Jay and Peebee, push. Let’s get this thing moving.”

  Hammermill said, “Heads up, everybody. Stone is going to poke the bear for us. Let’s see if we can cut them down a notch when they pop up to see what’s happening.”

  Tuttle patted Hector on the butt. It was not one of the comrade-like slaps, but a gentle pat. “I know you haven’t faced these four-armed freaks before. Trust me, they aren’t as stupid as they’re ugly. Don’t aim, just shoot.”

  The bunker rocked forward then settled back into its original spot. A pair of wonks and the bunker slid forward with a jolt. Once rolling, it moved faster and faster, racing toward the Hyrocanian barricade at a gallop.

  Dollish pushed Stone to the side, stepped up to the fi
ring port, stuck a suited arm through the slit and twitched a few fingers. A spray of fireballs flew straight at the enemy. They impacted with a splat, seeming to sputter. Instead of dying away, they flickered brighter and brighter.

  Dollish said, “White prosperous. I’ve been wanting to try them for real instead of just in the sim. They should burn through that barrier—dammit!”

  Stone looked through the slit. A Hyrocanian had jumped over their barricade, jerked the hot metal sheet away from the impromptu obstacle, and threw it aside. There was still another sheet in place. The alien jumped back. It almost made it to safety before rapid fire from somewhere high on the bulkhead slammed into the alien’s back. Whatever munition the shooter used it was not just a simple slug. It exploded and the Hyrocanian rained down on its cohort in bits of blood and goo. A new pair of metal sheets slid over the top of the barricade, dropping into place.

  Stone braced his chest against the firing port and sent three bunker busters down range. They slammed into the barrier, exploded, and exploded again taking out a pair of bulkhead metal sheets, but not breaching the wall. Stepping to the side, he let Dollish send additional munitions at the enemy. Return fire pinged a discordant tune against the bunker’s front side.

  He said, “We’re almost opposite of Allie’s location. Jay and Peebee, give us a big push, grab Allie and her people and get back to safety. We’ll keep up the cover fire.”

  Peebee said, “No.”

  Stone was shocked. The girls were occasionally rowdy and wild, but this was the first time they had ever been deliberately disobedient. Peebee had not even spoken to him by their mind link but said it using her TTS, broadcasting to every human and piglet on their frequency.

  Jay said, “Hold on.” The bunker picked up speed.