Overdrive (36 page)

Logan consulted
the floor plan under his eyelid. “Down the corridor. Turn right at the second
junction.”

“Right." She
moved off, Logan following close behind, plasma cannon held before him.

The station was a
mess. Scorch marks decorated the walls. Communication and electrical cables
floated listlessly, having been burnt and severed by stray plasma bolts. Dead
bodies moved amongst them, swollen and bloated by the vacuum. Fortunately,
plasma blasts immediately cauterized wounds so they didn’t have to dodge
floating congealed blood as they made their way down the corridor. Crystal had
extended her field to encompass Logan, enabling the two of them to walk along
as if in a standard gravity zone.

That combat was
still taking place within the station was all too obvious. Explosions and
shouts of pain could be heard emanating from the corridors around them. Two
Gitanian security troopers in full space assault armor appeared, running
towards them from the far end of the corridor. They were cut down while they
were still 20 meters away, an unseen bolt of plasma encompassing them and
leaving smoking carcasses in its wake. Crystal and Logan ignored them, passing
the still quivering bodies before turning down the second junction.

“How much
further?” asked Crystal, worried now.

“About 300 meters
further on. We have to go through another 3 pressure doors before we reach
them. They must have been slightly damaged in the assault because they’re
suffering from a gradual pressure loss.” He stopped suddenly.

“Shit.”

“What?’

“Just got a message
from Tarquin. The pressure loss has increased. Must have had another hull
breach. He reckons they’re only got a couple of minutes air left.”

“Run!" yelled
Crystal.

◊

Sammael’s AI
reported an incoming message.

“Have you got them
yet?," asked Gabriella, struggling to control her impatience.

“What?," a
thoroughly flustered Sammael replied.

“My hostages, you
idiot.”

“I tried. You
neglected to mention that one of them is an Angel of the 1st order.”

“What?,"
demanded Gabriella.

“Exactly what I
said. She doesn’t have wings or our height or anything, but she certainly has
field generative capability at least equal to yours.”

“Fuck. Those
bastard Shepherds must have gotten hold of the DNA sequence. Sneaky buggers.”

She paused to
contemplate her next move.

“Don’t worry about
her for now," she said finally. “Grab some of her friends and get out of
there. The rest of the Gitanian PDS network has somehow got wind of what’s
going on up here. They’re moving two of their PDS towards us as well as six
frigates. The AI doesn’t fancy our chances.”

“How long have I
got?”

“About 20 minutes."

“I’ll do my best."

“You’ll do better
than that. Get me my hostages or I’ll leave you on the station to explain to
the Gitanians why you’ve attacked one of their stations and indiscriminately
slaughtered the crew.” She cut the link.

Sammael punched
the wall in frustration, leaving a huge dent where his fist had been. “Find
them," he bellowed to the Angels surrounding him. “Now."

◊

Knights Captain
Tynan thought he was saved when he saw three statuesque winged figures running
down the corridor towards him. They could only be Gabriella’s shock troops
dressed as they were in silver and white armor emblazoned with the Princess’
Trumpet.

Since taking the
AG lift down to the station’s lowest level 15 minutes previously, Tynan had
spent the time productively concocting a plausible story which would pass a
mild interrogation by Gabriella or her chief enforcer, Sammael. He thought,
with some confidence, that he could pull it off.

After engaging
Asel and inflicting significant damage upon that worthy’s ship using inspired
tactics, Tynan’s own ship had finally been damaged beyond repair, forcing him
to eject. He was then captured by the Gitanian’s, taken aboard the PDS,
interrogated and tortured. Even then, under severe distress and pain, he had
not revealed anything of the Overdrive to the cluster of evil eyed security men
who laughed as they inflicted pain upon his stout and steadfast body.

During a lull in
the torture, he’d killed three fully armed guards and made his escape; thoughts
of reporting back to his beloved Princess foremost on his mind. Maybe it was
five guards, he thought cheerfully. That would surely convince Gabriella of his
loyalty. Perhaps she’d finally elevate him to Angel status as a reward.

He’d managed to
find a vacuum suit since arriving on the deck, avoiding the Gitanian security
guards as they frantically made preparations to repel the hostile forces
invading the PDS. He’d had his suspicions that it was Gabriella who was
attacking the station. Only she would be so bold as to attack a fully armed and
operational PDS.

He’d found a
hiding space behind a garbage disposal unit, where he crouched fearfully as the
battle waged about him. Finally, he risked a peek and saw the Angels racing
towards them.

He stepped out
into the main corridor, putting his hands up, ready to transfer the code to his
brethren identifying himself as a fellow Areopagite. Unfortunately for Tynan, a
squad of heavily armed and armored Gitanian’s charged out of the corridor
junction, obscuring his would be rescuers from sight. They opened fire on the
Areopagite’s, filling the corridor with light and a backwash of heat from the heavy
plasma weapons. Tynan turned and ran.

He ducked as a
plasma blast exploded above his head, running past another corridor junction
and the entrance to a small bar. His breath came quickly; the air filtration
system in the suit barely able to keep his mask clear and the magnetic soles
unable to keep pace with the frenzied pumping of his legs. He took turnings at
random, rapidly becoming lost in his haste. After 5 minutes frantic running, he
found himself in a corridor completely blocked by the ceiling, the wreckage
still smoldering and littered by dead bodies - both Gitanian and Areopagite. He
borrowed into it, covering his exposed body with large bits of plasticrete,
made himself comfortable and settled down to wait.

◊

The slipmissile’s
tiny AI brain registered the appearance of the small ship as it emerged from
Nospace. The two meter long device was gliding inertly 7,000 kilometers from
the spatial rift as the starship dragged itself through into real space.

Its instructions
were clear: Take out the PDS’s offensive, defensive and communication
abilities. If that was already achieved by its fellows, its secondary
instructions were to maintain a defensive orbit around the station and target
any ship docking or leaving. This event clearly falling into the second
category, it activated its tiny ion engines, achieved a target lock and brought
its field on line. It activated its single use slipdrive and disappeared.

◊

Crystal and Logan
arrived at the section of blocked corridor and waited while Logan consulted his
layout of the station. Concealed by the debris, the door to the storage locker
containing Tarquin, Walter and Bruce lay five meters ahead of them. He raised
his plasma cannon. Time was a factor and while risky, the only way of reaching
his friends before their air ran out was to blast the rubble out of the way.

Crystal touched
his arm, gently lowering the muzzle of his cannon until it pointed at the
floor. She smiled and shook her head.

“I have a better
way."

Expanding her
field, she used it to lift the rubble and ceiling panels out of the way. Logan
had to admit that it was a far more effective way of clearing the area than
just blasting it to bits.

The two of them
had arrived at the section of corridor shortly after hearing from Tarquin. Both
Gitanians and Areopagites quickly learnt to avoid the couple, their weapons
incapable of penetrating Crystal’s field and retorts from Logan’s plasma cannon
convincing them that they were better off left alone.

Crystal had almost
cleared the section leading to the storage locker. She levitated a large
section of ceiling panel. The ceiling panel yelped in surprise.

She quickly
lowered the section, bringing it to rest at her feet. A small panel had been
displaced revealing Tynan’s frightened visage.

“I know you,"
accused Logan. “You’re one of the Areopagite’s toadies.”

Crystal looked at
Logan curiously.

“He was on
Coleridge," Logan explained, “at the same time Felix’s office was
destroyed."

Crystal nodded and
then smiled savagely at the Knights Captain.

“Perhaps we should
keep him then.” She handed Logan the vacuum suits. “I’ll look after our friend
here. You go sort out the boys.”

Logan used his
suits strength augmentation to remove the last pieces of rubble and opened the
door to the storage locker. Tarquin, Walter and Bruce were all lying on the
floor of the small room. A quick check revealed all three were still breathing;
albeit shallowly in the thin air. He managed to rouse them, relief written
painfully over their faces as he got them slowly into the suits.

Logan waited until
they got their breath back before leading them out into the corridor. It was
only then that he remembered Bruce. The gorilla was unlikely to forget that
Tynan had been directly responsible for the untimely demise of his Transplanter
partner. Through the vacuum suits clear face plate, he watched Bruce’s face
contort into an evil smile upon catching sight of the Knights Templar.

“Hey sweetcakes,"
said the gorilla, grinning horribly and hefting the Overdrive in a fashion that
could only be described as menacing. “I think I owe you this."

He brought the
Overdrive up and then down in a lethal arc. It stopped mere centimeters from
the terrified face of Tynan, suddenly encased in a glowing blue field.

“Now, now boys,"
said Crystal. “We haven’t got time for this. Bruce, I’ll let you play with
Tynan later.”

The Transplanter
lowered his makeshift weapon grudgingly, looking like someone had just stolen
his favorite toy.

“What’s the
quickest way back to the ship?," she said, turning to Logan.

Logan gestured
towards the still half debris filled corridor. “This way. Care to do the
honors?”

“My pleasure."
She exerted her field to its maximum extent. Now that delicacy was unnecessary,
she cast the assorted pieces of rumble to one side in an astonishing display of
power. Within minutes, the corridor was clear and the others started down it,
Logan leading followed closely by Tarquin, Bruce, Walter and Crystal – the
latter keeping a close eye on Tynan beside her.

Logan turned down
another corridor. It was fortunate that he had powered several meters ahead of
the others when the exploding projectiles struck him.

◊

The small group of
Gitanian guardsmen were hiding. They weren’t hiding because they planned some
form of cunning ambush and they certainly weren’t involved in some sort of
elaborate hide and seek game. They were hiding because they were scared
shitless. After the first sortie with the terrifying Angelic figures who were
even now taking over the station, the four of them had broken off from the
others and made a run for it. Just as well considering that the platoon that
they had been assigned to was now little more than a greasy stain on the
plasticrete floor.

They’d huddled,
terrified, in a maintenance corridor that had been closed for repair and jumped
every time they heard an explosion nearby.

“What’s that?”
said one of them in a horrified whisper. All three froze. Hoarse and nervous
breathing, filtered and expelled by their assault armor could be heard loudly
in the confined space. Clearly audible above this was the sound of heavy
footsteps coming down the corridor.

“Merde,” said
another. “Its probably those horrible winged beasts.”

Unspoken, all four
crouched down and readied their weapons. Two carried microprojectile launchers
which they pointed somewhat unsteadily in the direction of the footsteps. A few
dreadfully slow seconds went by and then a figure emerged from around the
corner clad in what appeared to be full assault armor.

All four fired
their weapons simultaneously, one letting off a thoroughly undignified and not
particularly military shriek, sadly but not quite drowned out by the weapons
loud roar. Two plasma bolts and twelve microprojectiles struck the armored
figure directly in the chest, blowing him back into the corridor wall.

“Yeah, we got
him!” yelled one of the Gitanians, standing up and punching the air.

A slim, dark
haired woman surrounded by a glowing blue field strode into the corridor.

“I wouldn’t
celebrate just yet if I were you boys." She held up her sword and marched
purposefully towards the four Gitanians. They fired their weapons almost point
blank at her. They needn’t have bothered.