Prison Ship (7 page)

When Steiner rounded a junction leading toward the cafeteria, he stopped just short of running into a seven-foot-tall metallic mass. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he looked into the two eyes staring down at him. One, a human ocular cavity, gray and lifeless, the other, a glowing blue sensor orb. They were centered on a grotesquely deformed head, half-covered with apparatuses. The facial tissue was deathly pale and scarred, overlapping in areas where it had been sewn together. The arms and legs were entirely mechanical, fashioned to resemble oversized human appendages. A polished breastplate hid the body’s torso from view. Small see-through gaps protruded through the servos and gyrating components around the metallic pelvis frame. The scent of something like embalming fluid and rot hung in the air.

Mason spat a curse under his breath.

Steiner had seen pictures of this “thing,” but they couldn’t prepare him for the utter terror he experienced standing next to it.

“Captain Steiner?” The blackish lips moved, but the synthesized voice emanated from a device embedded in the neck.

Steiner fought to keep his voice from betraying any fear.

“Yes. Are you Tramer?”

The hideous face remained an expressionless mask. “I am he.”

He?
Steiner repeated to himself. How could it possibly think it was a man or even close to one? This monstrosity was an “it,” never a “he.”

“Hi. I’m Sam.” The boy stepped forward, extending a hand.

Tiny motors whined as Tramer’s head tilted down to look at the boy. Mason pulled Sam back. The blue sensor orb rose to shine at Steiner once again. “Captain,” the disembodied voice said. “Your officers have assembled in the cafeteria.”

“Inform them that I will be there shortly,” Steiner replied.

Mechanisms inside the cyborg’s body danced to life, turning it around in preparation to depart.

Steiner clenched his fists. How could Suzanne have possibly thought that this was the person that had once worked with them on the
Valiant
? It looked and acted nothing like the man he once knew. Despite its previous murders, Steiner refused to be afraid of it. If it killed him, too, he would be with Mary again.

“Tramer,” Steiner shouted, before the cyborg got far.

A hum emanated from a joint in the mechanical man’s hips as its entire torso pivoted around to face him. The unnatural stance further testified that it was only a machine.

“You forgot to salute,” Steiner said.

Mason cringed like a trapped animal ready to flee.

One of Tramer’s metallic arms rose, its spiny, clawlike fingers lining together before reaching the top of the disfigured head. The legs began moving, drawing the backward-facing body away. The torso spun to its forward position as it continued down the corridor. In a few seconds, the thuds of its heavy footsteps faded into the distance.

“Please don’t tell me Gruesome is part of the crew,” Mason growled.

“Our weapons officer,” Steiner answered.

Mason’s gaze burned. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier before I agreed to come on board?”

“I don’t want Tramer here any more than you do, but I didn’t have a choice. It was Suzanne’s idea.”

“Of course it was, since she won’t be cruising the galaxy with it.”

“Don’t worry,” Steiner said, motioning them forward again. “I’ve already made plans to get rid of it.”

Steiner followed the path that the cyborg had taken, each step bringing him closer to that monstrosity. A cold, forbidding feeling began to invade his soul. Death awaited him just ahead.

When they arrived at the doorway to the cafeteria, Sam started off by himself. “Since I’m not an officer, I’m going to do some exploring.”

“Why don’t you wait until one of us can join you?” Steiner asked.

“I can take care of myself.” With that, Sam tramped away.

Steiner was tempted to chase after him but held back.

“He’s tough,” Mason said. “He’ll be fine.”

I hope so,
Steiner thought, entering the cafeteria. He winced as he passed Tramer, who stood along the inside wall. He doubted he would ever become accustomed to its hideous appearance.

The dining area was similar to the one at Atwood, about a hundred feet long and sixty wide. An adjoining kitchen lay on the opposite side, oversized pots and pans hanging from ceiling hooks.

Seven other officers sat alone, scattered about long, rectangular tables with attached benches. Their sitting positions confirmed how much work it would take for Steiner to teach them to think as a unified group. He called them all forward to a single table at the head of the room. When the men had moved to the selected seats, Steiner glanced over at Tramer, who hadn’t budged from its position by the door. He wasn’t about to invite it closer. He wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.

“I’m Captain Jacob Steiner,” he said to the convicts gathered around the table. “Please introduce yourselves and tell what position you hold.”

The gray-haired hit man rose first. “I’m Phillip Daniels, the head engineer.”

“How many are in your staff?” Steiner asked, trying to keep his gaze from drifting to the cyborg’s glaring sensor orb.

“Seven, including myself.”

“How long would it take to complete a visual survey of all the vital systems?”

“Half an hour. Is there a problem?”

“An intruder came aboard this morning. I want to make sure nothing has been tampered with.”

“I’ll make sure everything is checked before we depart.” Daniels sounded too eager to please. Steiner wondered what the head engineer might be secretly planning.

The bartender tapped his cane against the floor and grinned. “Bricket’s my name. I’m the senior computer specialist, and I also moonlight as the keeper of the well.”

Steiner nodded.

A lean, muscular man with a mustache that bulged out over his upper lip came to his feet. “Benjamin Richards, chief of security.” Steiner remembered how proud Suzanne had been when she had told him about her choice of Richards. The man was a former police officer, convicted for beating information out of his prisoners. He held belts in three different forms of martial arts.

“These are my assistants in charge of keeping the peace,” Richards said, signaling for two men to rise. “Larry Hulsey and Eddie the Giant.”

An average man of five and a half feet, Hulsey was small-boned, built for quick mobility. At first glance, he looked like a college student on the honor roll, but this seemingly harmless man had teeth. He had gunned down three drug dealers because they had overdosed his girlfriend. Steiner recalled his amazement when Suzanne had told him it had taken a SWAT team to capture Hulsey.

Towering over his colleagues at nearly seven feet, Eddie was a former professional wrestler, in prison for raping a senator’s daughter. His dark-skinned arms rippled with muscles twice the size of Steiner’s. The mountainous swells of his chest stretched his uniform to the limits, but farther down, his contour narrowed into an overhanging stomach. Even out of shape, he looked like he could easily fight three people at a time.

“Weapons have been smuggled aboard, gentlemen,” Steiner told them. “Your job will be to search out and confiscate any weapons on the ship.”

“May we be armed with anything more than stun guns?” Richards asked.

“Not at this time.”

The security chief frowned as he and his assistants returned to their seats.

The two remaining men at the table showed no enthusiasm as they announced themselves.

“Julio Sanchez, pilot.”

“Mack Palmer, pilot.”

“Rick Mason, the best pilot,” came a shout from the opposite end of the table.

The two stared at Mason, who smiled triumphantly.

Since all the men at the table had introduced themselves, Steiner turned toward Tramer. It remained silent.

“Tramer is our temporary weapons officer,” Steiner said. “It will be leaving us at Tycus.”

The cyborg didn’t react in the slightest.

“I understand my predecessor had many rules,” Steiner said, casually walking around the table to escape the blue glare from the cyborg. “I have only one—stay alive. To do that, we must function as a team. Anyone not willing to do so will end up in the ship’s brig.” He purposely glanced over at Tramer. It was a meaningless threat. A detention cell probably couldn’t hold it.

While he outlined their upcoming raids, he found himself constantly reminded of Tramer’s presence. The sensor orb glistened in the pots hanging above the adjoining kitchen. When he looked at the floor, he saw a pale blue glow bordering his shadow on the floor.

He passed out lists, which divided the forty-eight-member crew into three groups of sixteen and designated them by a color code, RED, BLUE, and GREEN. According to his schedule, each crewman would spend eight hours a day in ship operations, followed by another eight of weapons training.

The stench of the cyborg grew more prominent in the room as each moment passed. Steiner began to taste it in his mouth.

“From now on, the bar will be restricted,” Steiner said. Bricket’s mouth dropped open. “For each successfully completed work shift, everyone will be awarded time to use it. This will give the crew an extra incentive to perform.”

“You’ll put me out of business with rules like that,” Bricket said.

“Your money would be worthless if we don’t survive the first mission. Any other questions?”

No one spoke.

“All stations, report ready at 0930. RED shift leads out. You’re dismissed.”

Steiner watched the men leave. Tramer stared at him for a long, uneasy moment, then marched out through the door.

“Ironhand—I mean, Captain,” Mason said. “If I were you, I would try to make friends with Gruesome, not anger the thing.”

The mutilated bodies of the cyborg’s two former victims flashed into Steiner’s mind, but he quickly discarded them. “There’s a half hour left before the launch,” Steiner said, changing the subject. “Would you check on Sam before you head to the command center?”

“Sure,” Mason replied, heading toward the door.

Steiner sat alone in the spacious sanctum, enjoying a moment of silence. He reached into his jacket and pulled out Mary’s holocard. When he activated it, her face flickered to life before him. Green eyes sparkled under waves of dark hair.

“I may be joining you soon,” he whispered to her.

STEINER waited in his custom-made chair as each of the RED shift reported to the command center for duty. While he watched them prepare their posts, he wondered which of them might be planning his demise. Heavy footsteps warned him of Tramer’s entering and moving to the weapons console. Steiner didn’t look back at it. The sight of it disgusted him.

“Captain, all stations have reported in, except for the engine room,” Tramer announced.

The mechanical hardness of the voice grated on Steiner’s nerves. He refused to acknowledge the cyborg’s report.

Down at the helm, Simmons, the navigator, was showing Mason what course had been plotted. Ever since Mason had entered the center, he had been so busy that he hadn’t found time to talk. Steiner wanted to ask where Sam was but refrained.

To get his mind off the boy, Steiner stepped up onto the raised platform behind him. He passed by Tramer at the weapons console and stopped at the security station against the back wall. The monitors displayed several scenes of the crew hurrying with last-minute preparations. One view depicted three engineers searching along the cylindrical reactors that stretched the length of a massive chamber.

“Daniels hasn’t finished with his inspection,” Tramer said.

The deck vibrated several times. Miniature motors whined closer. Steiner looked up at the lifeless face looming over him. He fought back the urge to shrink away.

“He estimates a fifteen-minute delay,” Tramer added.

“Thank you,” Steiner replied with a forced smile. “I’ll wait in my conference room.”

When he retreated down the stairwell into his private sanctuary, the nameplate on the door reminded him of his predecessor’s fate and perhaps his own. Footsteps followed behind him. He whirled about, half-expecting to see Tramer. Instead, it was Mason.

“Have you seen the instruments I have to work with? I’ve had better on most of the freighters I used to operate. Isn’t this supposed to be a warship? A senior citizen’s mobility unit is better equipped.”

Steiner smiled. Mason’s colorful exaggerations always cheered him up, even when they weren’t intended to. “This, coming from the man who bragged he could master anything that flew.”

“I can fly it,” Mason replied. “But it’s going to be a real long trip. Most ships are equipped with third-generation phase drives. This bucket has the original model. It’ll take weeks to get to the border.”

“Two weeks,” Steiner corrected.

“Whatever.” Mason glanced up the stairwell, then pressed the keypad to close the door. “I don’t like being up there that long with Gruesome. He makes me nervous—like he’s always watching me. And, his body smells like it’s decomposing.”

“We’ve got to work with it for now. Did you find Sam?”

“He’s in the bar, chatting with some of the off-duty men. He’s a smart kid. He’ll be fine.”

Steiner had already suspected that, but it set his mind at ease to hear confirmation.

The ship shuddered, then mellowed into a slight drone.

“The engines are active,” Mason said.

“Captain,” Tramer’s voice erupted from the intercom, “Daniels reports that all the vital systems are clear of tampering.”

Steiner touched a keypad on the desk. “I’m on my way.” After closing the channel, he found Mason grinning at him.

“I see I’m not the only one that shakes whenever that thing speaks,” the pilot said. “It’s almost like death calling your name, isn’t it?”

Without a reply, Steiner made his way to the door. After climbing up to the center, he slid into his command chair, while Mason took his place at the helm.

“Earthstation, this is Captain Steiner, requesting departure instructions.”

“P.A.V.,” the controller responded, “you are cleared for launch on path seven.

“Take us out, Mr. Mason,” Steiner said.