Beneath the Face of Saturn: Chapter 3
"Are you alright, Dr. Rhodes?" James asked. Karen moved her head just enough to nod. She kept her eyes fixed on the opposite bulkhead and her head firmly back against the seat, concentrating on quieting her stomach. It was better now that they were on the ground. Her inner ear had some semblance of gravity to tell her which way was up. She didn't think that she could go through that flight again. Maybe they should just leave her here on Enceladus. She could always shack up with the pirates.
She felt James' big hands pulling at her harness, and then the straps released with a snap. She blew out another shaky breath and got to her feet unsteadily.
"Easy there, Doc," James caught her under the elbow as she swayed. She rested against him for a moment, grateful. Slowly her equilibrium returned.
"Thanks, James," she said. "Let's get our stuff ready to go." He watched her a second longer to be sure she wasn't going to add herself to the injured list, then went and started laying out some of their basic supplies.
"You guys okay back there?" Lt. Wilson called back. "Looks like we've got a few minutes. The jumptroops are still on that ridge over there and it'll take 'em a few minutes to get the first people down. Lt. Gerald and I are going to stay up here just in case something happens."
"We're okay," Karen said, "but we're not going to be able to do much for anybody until the shuttle's pressurized."
"Let's get everybody on-board first and locked down," Lt. Wilson replied. "Then depending on the situation at that time we might be able to linger long enough to stabilize some people. Anything on the scope, Lt. Gerald?"
"Nope, looks like we're the only ones here."
"Alright then," the pilot said, "let's open up the doors and roll out the red carpet."
"I would prefer that you not do that," a voice commanded behind them. Karen saw James whirl around and draw his blaster. Before he could fire, he was shot in the shoulder.
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The blaster fire endangering the jumptroops gradually slowed, then ceased. Crow Mengele knelt by one of the rifle stands, making sure the power pack was disconnected. He looked up as Tom Jose joined him. "Now what?" Crow asked.
Tom straightened and looked over at the evac shuttle. No movement or communication since it had landed over ten minutes ago. Tom figured the crew was already dead. Pirates don't take prisoners.
"We need to get that ship back," he said. He looked back, where members of the Sierra-Three platoon were checking on their Baker-Two comrades. "We leave the wounded and mount an assault before they can get the shuttle off the ground." He glanced down at Crow. "No matter what, that shuttle doesn't leave unless we're flying her." Crow nodded.
"Sierra-Three," Crow called out. "Muster up."
The platoon gathered round as Tom sketched a rough map in the fine powder covering the surface. "We're here," he pointed, "and the shuttle is here." A rock was dropped into place to represent the shuttle. He looked up at the platoon. "I have reason to believe that the pirates who set this up have taken the evac shuttle." Nobody said anything and a couple of people nodded. "We're gonna get it back."
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"Hatches closed and locked, Hurral," a dark-haired pirate reported. "And I've also blocked all communications from this vessel."
"Excellent, Cynan," Hurral said. He was a big man with red hair and a full beard. His eyes were as flat and dead as a shark's. He gestured at the prisoners with his blaster. "Move over there and kneel with your hands behind your heads."
The pirate guarding the pilots searched them roughly and forced them to their knees. Karen did not move, holding her hand over James' torn suit.
"Did you not hear me, woman?" Hurral spat with irritation. "Move over there and put your hands behind your head."
"He'll die if I do," she said, shaking her head. "His suit's torn where you shot him."
Hurral laughed. "Then he will die," Hurral told her. "Now move!" He gestured again with blaster.
"No," Karen said stubbornly, "not until you've pressurized the shuttle."
"You try my patience," the pirate said angrily. He moved closer to her, pointing his blaster directly at her face. "Stand."
Karen shook her head mutinously and remained by the nurse. The pirate's hand was shaking and the blaster wavered. Karen held her breath.
The pirate laughed suddenly and lowered his weapon. "Very well, then," he said. "Cynan, pressurize this vessel. I have a desire to see their faces as they die."
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"Wonder why they haven't launched yet," Crow said as he crouched with Tom Jose and Robert Preston about 100 meters from the stern of the shuttle. The rest of the platoon was fanning out while the officers tried to find some vulnerability in the shuttle's defense.
Robert scanned the surrounding area again, then swung back to examine the shuttle. "No sign of activity at all," he said, "hostile or otherwise."
"Maybe the crew did some damage before they went down," Crow suggested. He flipped his binoc lenses down and looked closely for any weakness in the shuttle armor they could use to their advantage.
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"Let me put him out of his misery," Hurral asked the pilots. "Give me the access code for the main engine start sequence." He held James up by the hair. James groaned and tried weakly to sit up. Hurral pinned him down by stepping on one of his broken arms and slammed his face against the deck for the fourth time. His body jerked once, then was still. Hurral knelt down and check for the pulse in his neck.
"Unconscious," he sneered in disgust. "He is weak." Standing, he drew his blaster and shot James in the back of the head where he lay.
"No!" Karen cried out and rushed at him, but Cynan jumped down from the cockpit and grabbed her around the waist.
"Not so fast, bychan," he said, swinging her around. The dark-haired pirate held her tightly as she struggled and pinned her arms in front of her body.
Hurral pointed the blaster at Lt. Wilson. "Give me the access code," he said, "or die."
"I will die anyway," Lt. Wilson said calmly. He was pale but determined not to let the small pirate band have the shuttle.
Hurral grinned and leaned in close. "Ah," he said softly, "but there are many ways to die." He straightened, and smiled down at the two men. White teeth flashed in his bushy red beard. "Cynan, bring me the woman."
"Hurral," the dark-haired pirate began, tightening his grip on Karen's arms.
"Silence, Cynan! Do you think they would be so gentle if the positions were reversed? What is one soft-bellied Homeworlder against the fate of our own women and children?"
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"See that?" Tom asked Crow fifteen minutes later. "The aft engine access hatch. Get in through the main engine crawlspace and you've got access to the ship." He shrugged. "Can only get in one at a time, but they may not be expecting it."
"Yeah, I see it," Crow said. He dialed in for a closer magnification. "There's something attached to the external controls." He frowned. "Looks like somebody else had the same idea and beat us to it."
Tom switched lenses as well. "Damn," he said. He was silent a moment. "I don't see any other way," he said. "If they're distracted elsewhere we might stand a chance. Crow, I want you and Preston to take six troopers and get in through that hatch. I don't care how."
"It may take a little extra time if there's a device," Crow warned.
"We'll try and give you the time you need," Tom said.
"Just don't damage the shuttle too badly," Crow grinned.
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Karen knelt in line with the pilots, trying to stifle her sobs. She couldn't look away from James' body where it lay before her. Beside her she heard the sound of a blaster fire and a thud as Lt. Gerald's body hit the deck. Tears mingled with the blood running down Karen's swollen face. It stung and burned in the cuts on her cheek and split lip.
Out of the corner of her eye Karen saw the dark specter of Death move closer to her, pointing his blaster at Lt. Wilson. Soon she would be joining them. This was not how she had envisioned dying, beaten and bruised on some alien moon. She clasped her fingers tighter behind her neck, trying to stop their trembling.
"Cynan," Hurral called down angrily from the cockpit, "the code does not work!" Cynan lowered his blaster. Lt. Wilson closed his eyes with regret.
"Do you want to use the woman again?" Cynan asked, his face expressionless. Karen cried out in fear and cowered where she knelt. She began sobbing uncontrollably.
"No," Hurral growled, "obviously I overestimated the chivalry of the ExoFleet. Just kill her," he ordered. "Then do whatever is necessary to get that code!"
Karen saw the pirate glide toward her. She looked helplessly up into his face, searching for any sign of mercy there. It was like looking at a marble statue. This was it. No goodbyes. No chance to tell her father she loved him. No more new experiences, no more knowledge to savor. No mate. No children to bear. Just like that.
Suddenly she would do anything to live.
"No," she begged, "Please." Cynan raised his blaster. She noticed inanely that his eyes were deepest brown. Like chocolate.
"Please, don't kill me," she pleaded. "I don't want to die!" She looked up at him, wild-eyed, begging him with everything in her to spare her life. Death faced her, final and fatal.
The blaster touched her cheek, and slowly traced down along her jaw. She felt cold metal brush across her lips. For a moment Karen dared to both hope and fear that he had found a use for her.
"What a waste," he said. The blaster moved to her forehead. Karen felt it burning there and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She couldn't help the sobs that ripped through her.
"Please," she whispered. Her eyes flew open. "Wait!" she cried. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I… I can help you," she stammered. "I have something. Something valuable!" The pirate studied her but did not lower the blaster. Nor, however, did he pull the trigger. Hope blazed.
She swallowed hard. "My hand." Her voice was harsh and low. She could barely get the words out, her throat raw from screaming.
"My left hand," she said, slowly lowering her arms from behind her head. Carefully she removed the suit's gauntlet, revealing the device engulfing her left arm. She raised it slowly for him to see.
"What is it?" he asked. The blaster did not waver from her forehead.
"A… a medical glove," she gasped. "New technology." Tears streamed down her face.
He seemed to hesitate.
"Military technology," she added, and damned herself for a traitor.
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"Crow, is your team in place?" Tom asked. Across the rocky area where the shuttle sat, Tom could see the barest hint of movement as six figures slid carefully down behind an outcropping.
"We're in place," Crow responded. He took another look at the aft hatch. "Captain, there's scorch marks around that panel." He frowned. "Looks like there may have been some sort of electrical discharge. I won't be able to tell more until I get my hands on it."
"Roger that, Crow. On my mark. Preston, make sure you take out that rear sensor housing. We don't want them to know Crow's coming."
"Roger, Captain. Don't worry, Crow, they'll be blind back there and not even know it."
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Karen stumbled as Cynan pushed her past a rack of engineering worksuits. He gestured toward the pirate lying just below the access hatch to the engines. "Prove your worth," he ordered. "Heal him." The blaster was still trained on her. Karen drew in a shaky breath and dropped to her knees next to the body, activating her glove.
"What happened to him?" she asked, scanning him rapidly. Her heart sank.
"An electrical surge," Cynan said, watching her closely. She felt his gaze burning into her, and shivered.
"He's dead. I'm sorry," she added automatically. She froze and looked up at him in panic. "He's been dead for a while, I swear." Her voice rose with fear and she trembled.
"Hush, bychan," Cynan said, drawing her up by the elbow. "I believe you." He looked closely at her glove, examining it. After a long while he dropped her arm and moved in close with the blaster, forcing her back against the bulkhead.
"What are you doing?" Karen asked. The question stuck in her throat. She wasn't sure the answer mattered to her if it meant staying alive.
"Be silent," he said, forcing her head to the side and brushing her hair aside to look at the neural interface at the base of her skull.
They both stilled when they heard the cruel thud of a blunt weapon on flesh. Lt. Wilson screamed at the front of the shuttle and they could hear Hurral's laughter. Karen shuddered and touched her own face lightly. Her breathing was harsh in the cramped area.
"Don't listen to it," the pirate said roughly. Karen gave a bark of laughter.
"How can I not?" she asked incredulously. Hysteria made her voice shrill.
"Concentrate on something else," he told her, his mouth brushing her neck as he spoke. He pulled back slightly and forced her to look at him with his hand in her hair. His face was all harsh angles. The intensity in his brown eyes held her mesmerized.
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"Let's do it by the numbers, people," Tom ordered. "Now." Preston took his cue and sighted down the barrel of his rifle at the tiny camera housing mounted beneath the nose of the shuttle with the cannon. With one shot he took out the sensor array. Simultaneously Fred Henderson blasted out the forward arrays, purposefully missing the first few shots to distract the pirates in his direction. Crow's team was almost half-way to the shuttle before Henderson finished firing.
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Karen's hand slid slowly up the pirate's forearm to grip his biceps. She felt the hard muzzle of the blaster digging into her ribs and the tug of his hand in her hair. Activating the glove's surgical laser, she cut deeply into his arm and raked savagely downward.
The pirate gave a cry of pain, and tore his mouth from hers. His finger spasmed on the trigger and blaster shots went wild as he jerked his arm away from the pain. Karen grabbed for his wrist, injecting a powerful anesthetic. The hypospray made only a glancing contact but it was enough to make his hand go numb. He cursed as the blaster fell from nerveless fingers, then lost his breath in a rush when she kneed him in the groin with a vicious thrust. She hit him over the back of the head with the hard side of the glove and he went down.
Panting, she stared at his fallen form in disbelief, waiting for him to come up with a roar and kill her. He didn't move. She nudged his arm with her foot, then quickly bent to snatch up his blaster. Slowly she backed away until her heels hit the dead pirate. Almost tripping, she noticed the open grating to the crawlspace. A way out.
Up front a single shot rang out. Karen jumped, holding her hand to her heart in fright. Lt. Wilson. She set her jaw and forced herself to think. She had to do something. She knew she couldn't ambush the pirates with Cynan's blaster. She was shaking too badly.
Blaster shots rocked the shuttle and Karen screamed as something blew, sparks flying everywhere. The jumptroops! It had to be. Karen grasped the ray of hope with all her might. But the hatches were sealed off and wouldn't be able to be opened due to the pressurization in the shuttle. Her panicked gaze fell on the rack of engineering worksuits. Worksuits with helmets.
Helmets for work without cabin pressurization. Quickly she grabbed a gauntlet from one of the suits and worked it on over her gloved hand. Reaching for one of the helmets and sealing it clumsily, she frantically searched the engineering environmental access controls. Emergency decompression?
A hard body tackled her from behind.
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"Dammit," Crow cursed sharply. "It won't budge, Captain."
"Did you try the manual override?" Tom asked. He ducked as cannon fire from the shuttle raked by him.
"Of course I tried the manual override," Crow said in exasperation. "Looks like the shuttle cabin is sealed and pressurized. We'll have to cut the hatch off."
"That's going to take too long, Crow," Tom warned. "Can you blow it?"
"Not if you want this bucket to fly, Captain."
"Well then you'd better get cutting, I guess," Tom said.
"Already on it," Crow bit out as he and Henderson grabbed a couple of torches out of their packs.
"Wait a minute," Henderson said. "Look at that." Vapor began to vent out around the edges of the hatch. "What the hell?"
"Get back!" Crow shouted. He pushed Henderson out of the way as the hatch blew out of its framework. It went sailing across the rocky landscape, narrowly missing Henderson's head. Crow was blown backwards by the rush of air whistling out the hatch.
"Crow," Tom called. "The main doors just blew on the shuttle. We're moving in now. What's your status?"
"Aft hatch is blown too, Captain," Crow reported. "Looks like it was done from the inside."
"Roger that," Tom said. "Careful on your way in."
"Acknowledged. Crow out."
Crow motioned for Unholy to take point. Leon grinned behind his faceplate and quickly scrambled into the small crawlspace, inching along on his belly in a low crawl. He held his rifle out in front of him, finger poised on the trigger. When he reached the end, he launched himself out of the crawlspace and rolled to his feet, swinging his rifle up to cover the small room.
Debris littered the area, scattered everywhere by the sudden decompression. Crow was crawling out when Leon detected movement. He whirled around, bringing his blaster to bear on a rack of environment suits that had been torn down. Something stirred.
Carefully he crept closer, training his rifle on the person trapped behind the fallen rack. The person moved awkwardly and disjointedly, and then Leon was close enough to make out a face behind the helmet. The doctor. She looked at him with fear in her eyes. Her lips moved, but Leon wasn't on the right channel to hear her. He felt Crow nudge him and he moved toward the main cabin to secure the area.
"Crow, report," Tom ordered.
"I've got a live one back here, Captain," he said, pulling the rack off of her. "Looks like the Medical Officer. She's been worked over pretty good. Also one dead pirate." He began checking her suit for tears.
"We're all secure up here," Tom said. "Three decompressed pirates and three dead crewmen. Crew looks they were tortured before being shot. No sign of other pirates in the area. Awfully small group. They must have planned to catch the shuttle crew off-guard."
"Captain," Robert reported from the cockpit, "I've used the command override to clear the lock-down on the main engine start sequence. This bird'll be ready to fly in five."
"Roger that," Tom answered. "Folker and Polnacek help him out. The rest of you head back and get the casualties." He looked out over the moonscape. On the horizon, Saturn was beginning to rise.
"Let's blow this rock."
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Karen tossed and turned in her bed, the sheets winding even tighter around her body until she couldn't breathe. Desperate, she kicked off all the coverings and sat up painfully, rubbing tears from her eyes. Suppressing a low moan, she went into the head to splash some cool water on her face. She looked up and saw her reflection in the small mirror over the sink.
She turned her head this way and that, examining the damage. Rafael had closed the ugly gashes but nothing except ice would reduce the swelling. Her left eye was puffing up nicely, she noted with detachment. In a few days she was going to have more color on her face than on her jumpsuit. She touched her swollen lip with a finger. "Chocolate," she said suddenly.
Leaving the head she grabbed her jumpsuit, but her beaten body protested the snug fit. Instead she managed to get her loose-fitting pajamas back on and wrapped herself up in her robe for good measure. Slipping her feet into soft fuzzy slippers, she stuck her head out into the hall to check for night owls before leaving her quarters. She padded down the corridor, pausing only a moment before entering the mess.
She heard soft snoring from one corner of the darkened mess hall. The night shift cook, taking advantage of the opportunity. Karen slipped past her softly, taking care not to wake her. The last thing she wanted was for some crewman to see her wandering around in the middle of the night in her robe and ridiculous fuzzy slippers. Or to be asking unwanted questions. Carefully she shut the door to the kitchen, turning on only one small light over a chopping block.
A quick survey revealed the freezing unit. She fumbled with the latch for a moment before figuring out how to lift up the huge lid of the icebox. Peering inside, she was discouraged to see a multitude of frozen foodstuffs. She sighed and leaned in further until most of her upper body was suspended over the rim. She dug at random through the piles, but didn't see anything that looked hopeful.
"Don't fall in," a deep rough voice warned. Karen gave a squeak and jerked up, hitting her head on the freezer lid. Clutching at her robe, she spun around and gasped with pain as her newly mended broken ribs protested. Cookie stood there, arms folded. Sweat stained his clothing and a small white towel was slung across his neck. Karen rubbed her head and tried not to look guilty.
"I was trying to find the ice cream," she told him. He regarded her without expression for a long moment before turning and opening a huge metal door set in the back wall of the kitchen. He disappeared inside a moment and Karen debated making a run for it. Then he reappeared with a tub of chocolate ice cream and set it down with a thud on the chopping block in front of her. A bowl and a spoon were plopped down in short order. Karen decided it was self-serve night.
She was grateful for Cookie's silence as she sat at the chopping block and slowly ate the ice cream. She could feel him studying the marks on her face, but he never said a word. Finally she set the empty bowl down with a sigh.
"Thank you," she said, not looking at him. Carefully she eased herself off the stool and took the bowl over to the sink.
"Think you can sleep now?" he asked. She wrapped her arms around her body and shot him a wry look.
"No," she answered. He smiled slightly.
"It'll get better," he told her gruffly. She looked at him skeptically. "Not soon, but eventually," he added after a moment's consideration.
Karen wondered what demons kept a man like him awake at night. She hesitated uncertainly, but that seemed to be the sum total of what he had to say on the subject. She turned to leave.
"Hey, Doc," he said. She paused and turned around. He tossed something small at her. "For emergencies." She tried to catch it but it fell through her fingers and dropped to the floor. Sighing, she bent and picked the small object up. A chocolate bar. She smiled and grasped it in her fist.
"Thanks."
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