Authors: Michael Bowers
An arm wrapped around her throat, lifting her feet from the ground. She screamed, but only a gurgling noise came out. As she thrashed about, she caught a glimpse of her assailant’s reflection in the dead computer screen. It was the man she had shot.
Gasping for air, she put her feet on the corner of the console and pushed away with all her might. Her attacker slammed into the back wall, but his grip remained firm.
Her vision blurred. The room drifted away. She had only a few precious seconds left to free herself from the death hold.
I’ll stop him,
she promised herself.
I won’t die.
Then she saw her salvation. The vague form of one of her award statues stood on top of the console. She reached out and took hold of it. With her remaining strength, she thrust the metal pinnacle on top of it into the man’s groin. A shriek of pain followed. The iron grip relaxed enough for her to pry herself free.
Coughing and wheezing, she stumbled into the front office, her muscles weak from the lack of oxygen. The room tilted and spun. Escape looked out of her reach. She screamed with all her might. A blow to the back of her head squelched her cry and sent her sprawling to the floor.
She rolled over, her hands flailing out to ward off an attack. The man drove his knee into her abdomen, driving out her breath. The face looking down at her twisted with rage.
“If you want your trophy so much, I’ll give it to you,” he hissed, reaching for the statue on the ground.
Suzie, don’t ever let people get the advantage over you.
Her mother’s voice rang through her head.
The harder you fight, the farther you’ll go.
“Mother,” she sobbed aloud. “What can I do?”
At that moment, she saw her purse lying a few feet away, the miniature pistol sticking out of its flaps. She reached out and grabbed the small gun. The man raised the statue over his head, with the pinnacle pointed at her. She aimed the weapon at his head, closed her eyes, and fired.
She might have lost consciousness for a second or two, because she had no idea what happened next. She opened her eyes. Her attacker’s body lay across her legs. To her horror, she saw the award statue protruding from a bloody wound in her chest. Pain followed, excruciating in its intensity before mellowing into a warm sensation. Darkness crept in from all sides of her vision. She fought against it. She must warn Steiner of the sabotage. Numbness enveloped her. She heard voices and saw vague forms, surrounding her, but they became less real to her by the second.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” she whispered, then closed her eyes and welcomed the peace of nothingness.
RALPH Jamison stared at his computer screen, expecting more codes to print out, but nothing happened.
“Your man has proven unworthy,” Quinn said, looking over his shoulder.
“He got everything except the pressure-door overrides. You won’t need them if you plan your mutiny right.”
“If someone is onto us—”
“No one knows about you,” Jamison replied, losing his patience. “I’m the only one at risk here.”
“If you are questioned, they might learn of me.”
“Over the years, I’ve made friends within Military Intelligence who will warn me if I’m in danger of being arrested.”
Jamison copied the passwords onto a computer pad and handed it to Quinn.
“Is that cyborg still on board?” Quinn asked as he looked over the list.
“Yes.”
“Can you transfer anyone on board with me?”
“As many people as you need.”
“Just one other. A cyberneticist friend of mine.”
THE New England sky brightened slightly, advertising that dawn had arrived. Gray clouds stretched the horizons, completely masking all but a faint glow of the sun. A light blanket of mist hung across the land, painting everything in dewdrops. Birds danced among the trees, giving praise to the new day. A flash of lightning brightened the haze far to the west.
Steiner maneuvered his rented oversized truck along a seldom-used gravel road, which led to a secluded town. After using public transportation to reach the general vicinity, he had rented a vehicle to approach Tramer from the most secretive angle possible, for fear of bringing attention to himself. Glancing down at the tracker, he located the weapons officer a mile to the north. He parked the vehicle on the shoulder of the deserted road. The rest of the way he would travel on foot. Unstrapping himself from the seat, he stepped out of the truck into the chilled morning air. The scent of the wind promised rain. He zipped up his jacket, folded his arms tightly, and headed off through the damp grass toward Tramer’s last-recorded position.
Steiner found his anxiety over the
Marauder
’s upcoming departure growing like the humidity in the air. Even though Cole had promised their mission schedules would be lighter, a premonition of disaster during the voyage ahead haunted Steiner’s thoughts. Maybe the guilt, which hung around his neck with the medallion, had induced the terrible feelings. He couldn’t be certain. He looked down at his watch, set for Earthstation time. It told him there were five hours left before the ship was to launch. It had taken him nine hours to find Tramer’s location, even with the aid of the tracker.
When he climbed to the top of a hill, he saw the small town nestled in a valley below. Opening one of the pockets in his jacket, he extracted a pair of high-powered binoculars and made a visual sweep of the area. A wave of relief swept through him when he spotted Tramer, standing amidst a collection of shrubbery outside the town. The inhabitants might not even know he was there.
Steiner descended the hill, entering Tramer’s sensor range. The weapons officer didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way. Steiner stopped outside a gap in the shrubbery.
“Tramer?” he asked.
No response. The faint odor of formaldehyde hung in the humid air.
Steiner forged a path through the prickling branches until he stood next to the metallic body of the weapons officer. The sensor orb cast a blue glaze over the foliage facing the town.
Steiner stood motionless, listening to the respirator on the back of Tramer’s neck cycle air.
Steiner aimed his binoculars through the branches, attempting to focus on whatever Tramer stared at. Figures moved around inside the picture windows of a nearby house. Intensifying the distance ratio of the glasses, he could make out a woman inside, bundling up her two children in warm clothing.
“Is that Candice?” he asked, lowering his binoculars.
A breeze shifted the trees overhead. The rustling leaves nearly overpowered the answer.
“Yes.”
Steiner sighed with joy. Tramer’s response meant that he hadn’t lost his mind. “How did you find her?” he asked.
“Candice’s parents live in this—Wait, they’re leaving now.”
With his binoculars, Steiner watched Candice and the two children emerge from the house. When the older girl glanced in his general direction, he saw a slight resemblance to Tramer—the old Maxwell Tramer.
A man stepped out of the building behind the girl and put his arm around Candice.
Poor Tramer.
Candice must have remarried. That would explain the other child, who didn’t look anything like Tramer. The family climbed into a sedan and drove off into the hazy distance.
Steiner’s throat constricted to the point where he couldn’t even swallow. He couldn’t stop thinking of what it would be like to see Mary with another man, living out her life in fear of him. It would have been unbearable.
The sky darkened.
Servos whined as Tramer’s spiny fingers rose to pinch the stem of a hanging blossom. He plucked the delicate flower and brought it up to his deformed face. The petals changed to a violet hue under the glow of his mechanical eye. “My sensors detect the molecular density of this flower and the dispersal pattern of its pollen, but I can never again savor its aroma.” The blossom floated to the ground. “It is forever lost to me, just like the love of my daughter.”
Thunder echoed off the hilltops. A light rain rode the breeze.
“Why did you run off?” Steiner asked.
The mechanized torso rotated until Steiner could see Tramer’s whole face, wet from rain or tears. “I might have hurt someone in my emotional state—as I did once long ago.” He looked up into the heavens, opened his mouth, and let out a barely audible scream that almost sounded human. “I never intended to kill those two men five years ago.” His gaze met Steiner’s. The torture on his face melted away until he appeared as emotionless as ever. “I had to be alone to regain control over myself.”
“Is that why you came here—to find control?”
“I do not know.”
“Maybe you came to say good-bye to your old life, so that you could begin anew?” Steiner said.
Water speckles converged on Tramer’s breastplate, steaming down the metal surface. “I miss Veronica. I never want to leave her again.”
Steiner wiped the rain from his face. “If you stay, you’ll lose your career. I need you on the
Marauder
. You’re the backbone of that ship.”
Lightning flashed from the north.
Tramer’s torso swiveled back toward the town.
Steiner took a step closer. “One day, when your daughter learns that her father is still alive, don’t you want her to be proud of you?”
“She will always run from me.”
“No,” Steiner said. “She’ll learn to look past your exterior and find the soul of her father, just like I have.”
“He died.”
“When I first met you on board the
Marauder
, I would have agreed with that statement, yet you care. You feel.” Steiner turned toward the direction in which the vehicle had driven away. “And you hurt. Show Veronica you love her by striving to honor her. Don’t end it all here.”
Heavy droplets pelted the damp earth around them. Tramer continued to stare toward the town.
Steiner sighed. Tramer chose to mourn the passing of his previous life rather than attempt to live again.
Steiner opened his jacket and grasped the medallion flush against his chest. He freed the ribbon from his head, then draped it over the shoulder of the weapons officer. Starbursts of light glistened in the medallion’s water-speckled surface.
“Good-bye, Mr. Tramer,” Steiner said. “It was a pleasure serving with you.” He straightened his posture and gave his best military salute. If Tramer’s career ended there, it would be with the dignity he deserved.
Steiner walked back up the hill toward his vehicle. When he reached the apex of his climb, he glanced back and saw the weapons officer frozen in the same position.
Lightning tinged the sky, accented by a low rumble. Sheets of rain rippled through the grayness.
Steiner ran the rest of the way back to the truck. By the time he climbed into the cab, his clothes and skin dripped water. He started the vehicle, swung it around, and kicked up some gravel as he sped to get back to Earthstation within five hours.
The headlight beams illuminated a dark figure directly in the center of the road. Steiner stomped on the brakes. Rocks ground under the tires of the truck as it slid to a halt. Tramer, his blue sensor light twinkling through the downpour, stepped to the passenger side and opened the door.
“Permission to join you, sir?”
“Always,” Steiner said.
The weapons officer climbed into the spacious cab, leaning forward so his head would clear the roof. He handed the Harrison medallion back. “I would prefer to earn one on my own—for Veronica’s sake.”
Steiner smiled knowingly. “Welcome back, Mr. Tramer.” As they drove off in the direction of the coming storm, Steiner felt at peace. If something terrible did wait on the horizon for the
Marauder
, at least Tramer would be there with him when it happened.
STEINER weaved a reckless path through the flow of military personnel in the corridors of Earthstation. Tramer followed in his wake, people automatically providing him room to pass. Barely fifteen minutes remained before the
Marauder
’s scheduled departure from the space docks. The crew would take three times that amount of time to prep the ship.
When Steiner arrived at the security checkpoint for their ship, he didn’t see Suzanne anywhere around. Maybe she had work that needed to be done before the launch? She would probably arrive soon.
He remembered how he had left her the previous evening, frightened about having to go into the reception alone. Maybe the horde of inquisitive people had been too much for her to bear alone? No, if that had been the case, armed guards would have been waiting here to escort him away. She must have made it through without any problems.
He stepped up to the guard behind the counter. “Has Director Riggs been here at all today?”
“No, sir, but Commodore Cole delivered your Orders disk an hour ago.”
Steiner accepted the silver wafer from the guard and slipped it inside his shirt pocket. “Have the rest of my officers returned from their leaves?”
“The last of them reported in this morning. Your two new crew were escorted on board two hours ago.” The guard handed Steiner a computer board with a printout of the transfer orders.
“What are the names of the two new convicts?” Tramer asked.
“Travis Quinn and Boon Wong,” Steiner read off the miniature screen.
A flash of recognition crossed over Tramer’s pale countenance. The sensor orb targeted the guard. “Where are they now?”
The guard blinked under the scrutiny of the beam. “In the ship’s bar, waiting to be assigned crew quarters.”
Tramer turned to Steiner. “We must find them immediately.” Without waiting for a response, he hastened into the docking tube.
Steiner thanked the guard, then chased after the weapons officer. The enclosed walkway shuddered with each impact of Tramer’s heavy feet. Steiner raced to match his pace.
“Tramer, what’s wrong?” Steiner shouted.
“I have met Travis Quinn before,” the weapons officer answered. “He came aboard the P.A.V. with Joseph Barker.”
“Stop for a moment.”
Tramer halted so abruptly that Steiner overshot him by a yard.