Prison Ship (36 page)

His pulse pounding, Steiner drew himself away from the edge and let Richards survey the scene.

The shrill blast of a laser beam pierced the air.

“They’re trying to cut through Pressure Door C-3,” Richards announced loud enough to be heard over the noise. “Do they have access to the armory?”

Steiner shook his head wordlessly.

“Why isn’t Tramer doing anything?” Hulsey asked. “Has he joined them?”

“No,” Steiner replied. “He knows we’re here but hasn’t informed the others.”

“Then why doesn’t he stop them?”

“Maybe he can’t. Simmons also claimed that Boon Wong was a cyberneticist. Perhaps he’s been rendered inoperative.”

Richards sighed. “If that’s true, Captain, we have no other choice but to retreat. Pistols are no match for assault weapons.”

“Where will we go?” Steiner argued. “They’ll have cut through the pressure door within ten minutes.”

“But it would be suci—”

The laser beam abruptly ceased its cry. Richards had cut himself short, but not in time to keep his voice from echoing through the deathly silence.

“It failed again,” an irritated voice said.

“Quiet,” Wong whispered harshly. “I heard something.” Muttering a curse under his breath, Richards gave a hand signal to Hulsey, then sprinted out from behind the corner. Hulsey rushed after him, discharging his gun into the air. The startled group of men fled toward the armory, calling for Quinn and the other mutineers. Wong raised his rifle, but Richards was on top of him before he could fire. They both tumbled to the ground. A second later, the chief came up with the assault weapon.

“Richards,” Tramer shouted from his stationary position.

“Disable the cannon—quickly.”

Instantly, the chief showered the device in bolts, and it fell from its mount, sparking and sputtering.

Vengeful cries rose from the side passageways, accented by energy blasts.

“Flee at once.” Tramer’s voice overpowered all the other noise. “They have access to the armory.”

Steiner couldn’t understand how that could be possible, but considering the number of weapons the mutineers possessed, he wasn’t about to doubt it.

“What about you?” Steiner shouted at the weapons officer.

“Go. You cannot help me.”

A howl reverberated through the metallic halls.

Richards grabbed Steiner by the shoulder. “Captain, he’s right. We must leave.”

With a final glance at Tramer, Steiner raced off in the direction of the stairway, with Hulsey and Richards close behind. What had they done to Tramer? Deactivated him?

The cries behind them grew louder and more frenzied. Richards knelt behind the barrier of storage bins and took aim with his rifle. “Both of you, get up to the generating station as fast as you can. I’ll cover you.”

When Steiner raced up the steps behind Hulsey, he caught a glimpse of an army coming around the corner behind which they had been hiding earlier. Richards fired his assault rifle, chasing the mob back. An instant later, bolts slashed into the bins.

Hulsey stopped a third of the way up the stairs and gave a loud whistle.

Richards glanced up from behind his shelter, hesitated for a second, then tossed up his rifle. Hulsey caught it effortlessly and brought it to bear on the mutineers. Dodging enemy energy blasts, Richards sprinted up the stairs.

Steiner paused halfway up to the generating station, furious at himself for allowing the security officers to face all the danger alone.

“Run, Captain,” Richards shouted as he bounded past Hulsey.

Steiner dashed up the remaining distance to safety, hearing the intense fight behind him. He looked back in time to see Richards three-fourths of the way up, whistling for Hulsey to throw up the rifle.

A streak of movement at the bottom of the stairway caught Steiner’s attention. A missile dug into the barrier of storage bins. With a brilliant flash, the shelter exploded into burning embers. The stairway jolted violently. Hulsey lost his balance and dropped his assault rifle over the railing into the smoke-filled chamber below. The weapon’s impact resounded throughout the area.

Sharp cries of victory rose through the haze, followed by the rush of many footfalls.

Hulsey raced up the steps. Richards ran five feet ahead of him, constantly glancing back to make sure his friend stayed with him.

Steiner knew the two men would never make it to the top in time. Drawing his AT-7, he fired blindly through the gray cloud below, hoping to slow the mutineers’ approach. A rifle muzzle rose from out of the smoke. Steiner pelted it with bolts before it could come alive. Steiner’s hopes climbed when he saw that the two security officers had almost reached the top.

A shrill howl broke out from below, then a fierce onslaught of bolts rained up on them. Richards pulled Hulsey up off the stairs, just as one of the searing beams cut into his friend’s back. The man shrieked, falling to the deck of the balcony. Richards hauled him out of range and began examining the wound. The overpowering smell of burnt flesh stung Steiner’s nose.

“How is he?” he asked.

Richards glared up at him. “We have to get him out of here—fast.”

“Go then,” Steiner said. “I’ll make a stand here.”

The chief picked up his barely conscious friend and dragged him toward the electrical accessway.

Steiner inched up to the edge of the balcony, where bolts from below ate away at the metal railing. The deck plates at the top of the stairway vibrated under the force of many men coming up. Steiner raised his gun muzzle over the lip and fired three times into the leader of the group. The dead mutineer toppled back into the rest, knocking them all down the steps.

Steiner ducked as a new eruption of energy blasts from below sought him out. Covering his ears from the deafening noise, he watched as searing bolts sliced through the railing bars, leaving glowing jagged tips behind. With a groan of fatigue, the top half of the metal assembly dropped to the floor just inches away.

Then, as abruptly as the attack had started, it died. Faint voices floated up in the stillness, but nothing else. The mutineers must be up to something, but what? They wouldn’t dare launch a grenade for fear of damaging the generating station.

Steiner shuffled the smoldering rail over the edge of the balcony to see if it would draw any fire. Nothing happened. The new silence made him apprehensive about what was to come.

Another vibration ran through the deck plates, this time much stronger. It was followed by a second, a third, a fourth … The twisted metal pieces, scattered about the floor, rattled with each tremor. Some of them tumbled over the edge of the balcony.

When Steiner attempted to fire over the brim of the stairway again, he saw Tramer coming up the steps, wearing a facial shield over his head.

“Flee.” The weapons officer’s voice echoed from beneath the helmet. “I can’t stop myself.”

Steiner hesitated. “What have they done to—?”

“Quinn is controlling me,” Tramer shouted. “He will use me to destroy you. Run for your life—please.”

Steiner didn’t waste any time in heeding the warning. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the narrow accessway. His shoulders scraped against the tight walls as he ran. About halfway through, he caught up with the crimson-lit forms of Richards and Hulsey, moving much too slowly.

“Richards,” Steiner shouted. “You must go faster. Tramer is right behind me.”

The chief glanced up. “What? I thought he was immobile.”

“No, it’s far worse than that. Quinn has control over him, his weapons, his mechanical limbs, everything.”

Immediately, Richards dragged his friend faster, causing the man to sob and beg to stop. Picking up Hulsey’s feet, Steiner helped with their retreat.

AGAINST his will, Maxwell moved toward the narrow opening into which Steiner had retreated. He hoped his shipmates had enough time to escape.

He ignored the terror and fear that built up within him. If he killed them, he couldn’t hold himself responsible—not like when he had murdered the two men aboard the
Magellan
.

It’s a monster, Mommy,
Veronica screamed inside his mind.

Maxwell began to weep.

One day, when your daughter learns that her father is still alive, don’t you want her to be proud of you?
Steiner had asked him in New England.

Yes, I do,
Maxwell pleaded silently,
but it’s impossible. I cannot help myself.

Stepping into the narrow accessway, he detected Steiner and the two security officers near the far end.

His targeting computer locked on. His breastplate dropped open.

Veronica materialized in front of him, her face panic-stricken. Her mouth opened.

“No, Veronica—please don’t,” Tramer cried out.

His daughter shrieked at him again as the twin guns ignited.

STEINER, Richards, and Hulsey fell in a heap outside the accessway just as a brigade of energy beams filled its interior.

Heaving with exhaustion, Steiner pulled himself up and stumbled toward the control panel inside the frame of the doorway. When he reached for the keypad to seal the passage, a bolt exploded into it. He retracted his singed hand, ignoring the throbbing pain.

With his pistol drawn, Richards flung himself across the opening to the opposite side as flashes of energy licked the air behind him. Darting back and forth from behind the shelter, the chief returned fire at Tramer.

Inhuman screams and pleas for death echoed from the accessway between weapon blasts. Tramer seemed to be in utter torment, begging for relief. Staring down at the AT-7 in his own hand, Steiner realized he couldn’t force himself to shoot at his friend.

Hulsey’s lifeless gaze caught his eyes, and Steiner turned away. Horror and guilt threatened to tear his sanity away.

“Captain,” Richards screamed, “you must help me. Tramer is more than halfway through the passageway.”

Steiner crept to the side of the entrance, then hesitated.

“Fire back,” the chief bellowed.

“Forgive me, Maxwell,” Steiner breathed, and began shooting at his friend.

MAXWELL’S cries for destruction had been in vain. The pistol fire deflected off his armor without any effect.

His twin guns continued blazing the tight passageway, getting closer to their marks each shot. Wong must be getting accustomed to aiming them with the targeting sensors. It wouldn’t be long before he made contact with each of the defenders.

One of Richards’s bolts detonated against Tramer’s left hip joint. The implant registered damage. If it could be struck again, it might cease to operate.

“Aim for my left leg,” Maxwell shouted.

Richards pelted the location. One of the shots exploded near the same spot. The limb froze up.

It worked,
Maxwell thought with relief.
I’m crippled.

His spirits rose until he saw his arms bracing against the walls and moving him forward again. He wailed in frustration.

Richards whipped around the corner and discharged a slew of blasts into Maxwell’s right leg, but failed to retreat fast enough. A beam sliced through his side as he dove for cover. The chief fell backward and rolled behind the doorframe before he could be hit again.

By then, Maxwell stood twenty feet away from his destination. Wong couldn’t miss at that range. Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen feet.

Steiner held his gun around the corner and fired blindly. Then the impossible happened.

One of the captain’s bolts impacted under the side of the face shield, damaging a component—Boon’s bypass center. Maxwell’s right arm flinched and dropped to his side. He attempted to move it and found, much to his surprise, that it obeyed him. Instantly, he used it to rip the control wires from his twin guns. The weapons went still. With his liberated limb, he gripped an electrical cable lining the ceiling. As long as he held on to it, Wong couldn’t move him any farther forward. His left hand reached up and began prying at the other, tearing into its circuitry.

“Captain,” Maxwell shouted. “Try to secure the door. I can’t hold on much longer.”

STEINER inched around the corner of the entryway and examined the charred remains of the control panel. Two black holes had been burned through the set of keypads. The accessway couldn’t be closed with the password, but there might be another way.

“Hurry,” Richards warned as he bound his bleeding wound with his shirt. “Someone else could open fire in there at any moment.”

Using his pistol, Steiner blasted the outer casing off the panel and pulled out the inner circuitry and cords. He had only one chance. If he could fool the door mechanism into thinking there had been a hull breach, it would close automatically.

“Get back, Captain,” Richards screamed. “I see movements on the far side.”

Steiner gritted his teeth in determination and continued to randomly connect wire tips together.

MAXWELL’S sensors detected Quinn’s men behind him, aiming their assault weapons into the accessway. Using his obedient arm, he shoved his body toward the side wall to shield the captain. An onslaught of rifle bolts slashed into his back. They were twice as powerful as pistol fire. His armor wouldn’t withstand them for long.

His body fell forward a few inches as his left hand nearly finished clawing through his right arm.

Just then, a blast to the back of his head blacked out his digital systems.

I’m saved.

His CPU had been damaged. Without it, his human body could not survive. Death would finally embrace him.

Before he slipped away from consciousness, he heard the pressure door beginning its descent.

Then he saw Veronica once again. She ran up to him and hugged him tightly.

“I love you, Daddy.”

STEINER watched with despair as Tramer’s smoking body was ripped from his right arm and fell forward under the brunt of the bolts assailing him. He dropped less than ten feet from the descending pressure door. His smoldering helmet slid off, giving Steiner one last view of his face before the accessway sealed up.