Metal Boxes - At the Edge Page 30

  Ryte started, “Captain Numos—”

  Stone interrupted coldly, “No, Agent Ryte, I’m no longer a snot-nosed teenager you can push around and manipulate.”

  Ryte said, “Yes. That’s true. But from the data Kat has extracted from the warehouse ship, they are expecting a Hyrocanian fleet to show up any day now to take possession of a dozen new ships.”

  Emmons explained, “Thirteen to be exact, although the construction managers did expect to get the last two operational before the Hyrocanians showed up.”

  Ryte said, “Yes. However many is not the point. The point is that even if they only send one or two warships with enough personnel to operate the new ships, we will be vastly outgunned.”

  Numos said, “Well, not vastly. We do have some teeth on this ship.”

  Ryte said, “One, two, or ten. We blow those new ships and the whole dock they sit on. Let the UEN come in and clean up.”

  Allie added, “The Galactic Marshals orders were to aid Tammie Ryte. If you say blow it to smithereens, well, we can do that.”

  Numos nodded, “Of course we can. I can even back the Platinum Pebble away from the dock and use our weapons to pound the whole thing to scrap, but I’m under Trey Stone’s orders.”

  Emmons looked thoughtful. “We could plant charges on the ships, wait for their new crews to show up and then blow them. I think we could spoof the incoming ships like we did during our Q-ship mission in Hyrocanian space.”

  Hammermill, who had been quiet for the whole conversation, said. “I don’t like the idea of destroying this equipment and running away from an enemy. Besides, we don’t know how many enemy ships are on the way. There may be more than we can spoof at one time with the personnel we have.”

  Emmons said, “We’ve done it before and I have all the programs available.”

  Allie leaned across and asked Numos, “You sure you didn’t manage to scrounge up a few of those repulsar mines? We could string a few across the Hyrocanian incoming jump point and kill them off, easy peasy.”

  Numos shook his head. “Those are still classified and restricted weapons. The UEN even denied having them when I asked for a few. We got just about everything else we asked for, but not that.”

  Stone looked at Agent Ryte. “I know that you’re in charge of the operation, but I’m in charge of the ship. I don’t like running from an unknown enemy force any more than anyone else. Tammie, if you have to report in, I can give you the Vance and a pilot to return to Lazzaroni. For all I care, you can take one of those…” He tapped the Hyrocanian ship’s manifest. “Dash, how many people do you think we’ve got that can pilot a ship?”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Stone looked out over the crowd gathered in the Platinum Pebble’s shuttle bay. He had peeled out of his armor to address everyone and now realized the suit would have amplified his voice. Shouting to be heard, he said. “For those who do not know me, I am Trey Stone. This ship is mine, so listen up.” It only took a heartbeat for the crowd to stop chattering and face him. He was sure the crowd’s actions had more to do with the fact he was backed by nineteen armored Galactic Marshals and a dozen suited crewmen than his being the ship’s owner.

  “We’re going to make every effort to get you home, but—”

  The big man Stone had rescued from the warehouse cafeteria interrupted, “Then kick this pig into high gear and let’s get out of here before more of those Hydrocapanians things show up.”

  Stone said, “Sir, that is the last interruption I will tolerate. First, they are not Hydrocapanians. They are Hyrocanian. Second, their showing up is the problem.” He glared at the big man until he nodded his acceptance.

  “The Prophet was forcing you to build warships for humanity’s enemies. When you could no longer work, you were sent to the enemy to be eaten alive. We believe the Hyrocanians will show up any day to collect their new ships. Our plan is to stop them—.”

  A smattering of applause interrupted him.

  “—and kill them.” The applause grew to a loud roar. He held up his hands for silence. “You have been sorely treated. You have a right to go home, see your families, and live in peace. There are not enough of us to stop those who will be coming so we need your help. It will be dangerous, and if you stay, you might be killed. But, if we don’t stop them here, your families on Holliman’s Rift will be the enemy’s next stop, and you now know how Hyrocanians treat human captives.”

  Pointing at Ryte, he said, “This is EMIS Agent Tammie Ryte. She will be leaving this system to jump to the UEN base in the Lazzaroni System to report the situation here to the emperor and ask for military assistance. She will not stop at Holliman’s Rift or anywhere else along the way. What is coming will be hard and unpleasant, but necessary. Everyone who volunteers to stay, please move to your right. Anyone wanting to leave with Agent Ryte, move to your left. No one will criticize you for leaving. I would go if I could.”

  He was surprised at how few people chose to leave, but there were still more than they could fit into the Vance. The shuttle was big as human shuttles go, but not big enough to hold the people moving to the “get-out-of-dodge” group.

  A shouting match erupted in the crowd trying to leave. The religious woman Stone had rescued with the big man was trying to speak calmly, but an old man was shouting her down. A group of people clustered around them, each yelling different opinions.

  Stone waded into the group.

  Leaning on a pair of crutches, the old man shouted into the woman’s face. “I ain’t going.”

  The woman looked at Stone. “For the love of God, signore, you can’t ask some of these people to fight. There are old women and children here.”

  Stone nodded. “You are correct.” He pointed at a fit young boy. The boy stared at him, curious and unafraid. He had the look of one used to hard labor from the time he could walk. “Do you want to stay or go?”

  The boy glared back. “I got nowhere to go and no one to go to. My Ma was worked to death on these docks. I had two baby sisters that were taken away, now you say, them aliens ate them? I declare I have as much right to stay and fight as any man here.”

  “How old are you, son?”

  The boy said, “Twelve standard, near as I know.”

  Stone nodded and said to the crowd. “Any child under twelve standard must evacuate.” He raised his hands to stall the hubbub. It was distressing to see how few children were in the crowd this size. “And anyone, regardless of age, who is too ill to work, must go.”

  “No.”

  “Let me fight.”

  “I won’t leave.”

  Stone said, “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for this. Those I just mentioned will go willingly or I will force you to go.”

  The old man raised one crutch and swung it through the air. “Bring it on, sonny. I’m tired of getting pushed around. Where’s my payback?”

  Stone held up his hands in surrender. “Signore. Do this.” He held up his hands, flexing his index fingers.

  The old man dropped his crutches and easily wiggled his hands. “My knees is shot with arthritis, but my hands are good.”

  Stone said, “Trigger fingers?”

  The old man grinned, “You strap me in the chair and I’ll shoot them bastards to my last breath.”

  Stone shouted over the crowd, “Parents of those children may also go.” Looking at the religious woman, he added. “You go as well. The young children without parents are your responsibility. It will be a long flight, so watch them well.”

  Without waiting for a response, he walked over to Numos, “Dash, I know the plan was to use the Vance, but there are too many people who need to leave. I suggest we use the old slavers freighter. I sort of damaged their bridge, but there should be secondary manual controls in its engineering compartment.”

  He refused to turn and look at the volunteers who wanted to stay but were being forced to depart for safety. Catching a group of running figures out of the corner of his eye, he glanced out of curios
ity and spotted his cousin Marybeth sprinting toward the group headed for safety. Her entourage was so close on her heels. They had not even bothered to pack.

  Stone was not sorry to see Beffie-pie go and he understood her desire. He did not want to stay, but Allie was bound by her orders to stay and he would not leave her behind. Marybeth surprised him when she stopped halfway to the main hatch leading to the old freighter. She rushed back. She threw her arms around Dollish and kissed him good-bye—long, hard, and passionate, then turned and ran away.

  Suppressing a grin at Dollish’s blush, he keyed his comms, “Jay and Peebee, move the two virion nest cages into a warehouse bay on the slave freighter.” Turning to the Galactic Marshals, he asked, “Allie, would you send a few people to help get those things out of here?”

  He spotted Doctor Emmons among his crew and waved her over.

  She stomped in his direction. “I told you that I’m not going.”

  Numos shook his head, “We’ve discussed this, Kat.”

  She spat back at him, “You discussed it. I disagreed.”

  Stone said, “Doctor Emmons, the argument for your exit is compelling. As a galactic-class behaviorist, there is no one better to escort the two virion nests inhabiting the bodies of Riley Lowther and that fat bastard of a Hyrocanian admiral to the Emperor’s College for interrogation and study. Jay and Peebee don’t like it either, but they’re leaving too because they’re best suited for guarding them.” As an aside he added, “Not to mention their particular brand of violence won’t be useful in the coming fight.”

  “I realize humanity needs to know and understand the virion nest, but this is my fight, too. I don’t want to run away.

  Allie said, “Hammer, if you please.”

  Emmons was still arguing as Hammermill carried her toward old freighter.

  Stone spoke through his comms, “Hammer, lock her in a cabin. Jay and Peebee will guard the nests the whole way. Give them the hatch access codes to Kat’s cabin with instructions not to let her out until the ship is in the gray.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Stone grunted as he pushed the cargo container up on the sled. Even using his combat suit’s enhanced muscles, some of the containers were massive in weight and cumbersome. It had been a long five days since they had agreed to his plan and began putting it in place. EMIS agent Tammie Ryte and a slew of civilian non-combatants had departed on day one in the slaver’s old freighter.

  The antigravity sled dipped slightly when the cargo container slammed into place on its flat top. Stone winced, but not from pain or discomfort. Bins full of Hyrocanian space mines were not meant to be tossed around like tubs full of soccer balls, cotton balls, or even boxes of rocks. Hyrocanian mines were notoriously unstable, designed without safety switches, and prone to exploding early if jiggled too hard.

  He checked off the container from the list of goods he kept on his HUD display for easy tracking. They had moved more mines than he cared to count. The warehouse ship held enough munitions for fifteen warships, each outfitted with a dozen cannons to fire those munitions.

  Stone keyed his comms, “That’s the last of those, Captain Numos. They’re on their way to the Vance now. They will boost to you ASAP.” Other mines had already been wrangled from the warehouse ship to the newly built ships, filling their storage spaces and munitions bunkers.

  Stone allowed the sled to move about a kilometer ahead of him. He followed at a slow sedate pace and half a dozen Galactic Marshals deputies followed him.

  Lee laughed, “Damnation! That wasn’t fun at all. I’m glad we’re only pretending to be deckhands. Too much like work for me.”

  Nance agreed, “You couldn’t pay me to do that again. Crap! Five days of shifting cargo from one place to another isn’t as much fun as blowing stuff up.”

  Stone tapped his suit’s massive chest. “We don’t wear combat suits to move cargo, people. We take our time, using loaders, cranes, and power levers. Besides, you guys are getting paid to do this, right?”

  Lee said, “Sure. The same pay I get as any Galactic Marshals corporal in a war zone.”

  Stone asked, “No, you’re getting Stone Freight Company standard pay rates, aren’t you?”

  Lee answered, “No one said anything about it. We don’t normally—”

  “This isn’t normal,” Stone interrupted.

  All of the deputies laughed.

  Lee sputtered, “Normal? You’re a hoot, Stone. This is the Galactic Marshals. There isn’t anything like normal. We do everything from standing guard outside of the emperor’s private toilet to…well, whatever we’re doing here—standing around waiting to throw rocks at enemy warships.”

  They got all the way down to docking ramp six before they were stopped by a large crowd of people gathered in the corridor. Men and women, the smallest group wearing Stone Freight Company uniforms, clustered in uncomfortable groups. Most of the people were dressed in the rags of the Prophet’s ex-labor force.

  Hector and Gonzo were the only two remaining from Marybeth’s original entourage. Hector stood in a small cluster of military personnel and veterans, leaning against Tuttle’s bulk in comfortable silence. Gonzo was off to the side of the crowd, pointing his video camera at everyone. Hammermill had previously taken Gongo’s camera and uploaded a classified file that automatically pixilated active duty military personnel who might be caught on camera by mistake. For obvious reasons Galactic Marshals deputies did not like their faces shown in public.

  Dollish waved at Stone, signaling him to come up to the front of the crowd clustered in the wide corridor, close to the high platform holding Allie. He peeled a backing off a piece of paper—actual paper—and slapped the sticky side against the front of Stone’s suit. An enormous number three was on the paper.

  Stone said, “Nice number. How did that happen?”

  Dollish grinned, “Cost me a whole week’s wages to swap with Gordy.”

  Stone patted the number on his chest, “Three is a lucky number, Tim. Thanks.” He smiled, remembering a time during his first assignment when he had lost a lot of money betting on number three holding the next box of rocks. It seemed his luck had changed since then.

  “Don’t thank me, Boss. Three has been lucky for me, too. We might as well do this right.”

  Stone said, “There is still time to hang back, Tim.”

  “Not me, Boss.” He flexed his index fingers. “I’ve been doing exercises and practicing for the last few days. I’m as ready as I’m going to get.”

  Allie shouted for everyone’s attention. “Listen up, people. Anyone with a change of heart is to hustle down to ramp number twelve. There are no hard feelings if you go, those of us who are staying completely understand.”

  Stone looked around. He saw a few people glance at each other, but no one moved. Allie continued to wait.

  “Please?” Allie begged.

  Finally, an old man with the number eight taped to his chest shouted, “Listen, Missy. Trey Stone promised he’d carry me and strap me into a gunner’s chair.” He waved a thick, handmade crutch in the air. He wobbled, leaning up against the big man Stone’s team had rescued from the warehouse ship. “You lie to me?”

  The big man also had a number eight on his chest. “I got him, Captain. Let’s get this party started.”

  Allie said, “All right, people. I just don’t want anyone saying that we didn’t tell you what was coming. Get to your ships. Captains and pilots report into Fleet Captain Numos as soon as you get sealed up and are ready to boost to your station.”

  She was not in her combat suit, so she rode the overhead crane down from her high perch. Rather than drop to the ground, she settled in a few feet off the deck and did a quick sideways maneuver until she was face-to-face with Stone.

  He popped off his helmet, letting it fall back on its tether, down the back of his neck. He wanted to hug Allie, but not in his armor. He did not trust the power of the enhanced muscles not to squeeze her too hard because he could not control his raging
emotions.

  She grabbed his face with both hands. Kissing him, she said, “No good-byes, Lover. Just, see you when this is over.”

  “You had better plan on coming back, Dearest. Without you, I have no heart.” The thick fragrance of dark wet chocolate filled his nostrils.

  She kissed him again, jumped the few remaining feet to the deck from the elevated platform, and walked away without looking back. She had only gone a few meters when a cart slid to a stop, picked her up and whisked her away.

  Dollish harrumphed to get his attention, “Sorry, Boss. Our ride’s here.”

  Stone gestured for Dollish to get into the front. He took a quick hop up and landed on the back of the wide flatbed construction truck. There were two trucks with the number three sloppily painted on them. People, with number three plastered to their chests, jumped in, climbed over each other, sat on top of one another, or clung to the sides.

  The trucks wasted no time at the ramp to spaceship number three. They drove straight into the ship through the wide-open main hatch. Unceremoniously, people jumped to the deck, many not even waiting for the trucks to shut off their anti-gravity system and settle to the deck. Each slapping a flat palm against a wall-mounted attendance scan pad, then scurried down the corridor, branching off and disappearing into bays, cabins, and compartments. The pad flashed red with every touch.

  Stone watched from the back of the truck. It would not take him long to reach his station, although he had to go down a long corridor, drop down a ladder to another level, race across and back up a few decks. Not for the first time in his life, he gave thanks to the idiot who designed the enemy ships. He used to curse the designer before realizing they may have deliberately designed the ships with the most confusing, maze-like layouts possible. Sabotaging a ship’s blueprints took courage considering what the Prophet and his Hyrocanian friends would do if they figured out what was happening.

  Dollish was the second to the last person to sign on as a member of Three’s new crew by placing his palm on the attendance scan pad. He stepped to the side, performing a quick salaam, gesturing Stone to the pad.