Prison Ship (8 page)

“My pleasure,” Mason replied as he manipulated their vessel forward.

The low grinding of metal vibrated from the hull. An alarm rang out.

“Collision alert,” the controller shouted. “P.A.V., adjust your course immediately.”

Mason flushed as he worked frantically to correct his error. After the ship backed away from the side of the dock, one of the mooring clamps could be seen bent up against the superstructure.

Steiner’s faith in the smuggler’s skill wavered for a moment, then strengthened when the P.A.V. glided gracefully away from the station. Their ship never deviated from its flight path again—not even by a meter.

Sunlight pierced through one of the side viewports, maneuvering the shadows around the room as the P.A.V. banked on its course. Other vessels passed by, arriving on neighboring paths. A few minutes later, they had cleared all other traffic. The starry expanse stretched out forever, waiting to accept them.

“Increasing to top velocity,” Mason said.

The Earth shrank away in the rear viewport until it was a speck lost in the vast field of space.

“Phase,” Steiner commanded.

His stomach sank as the universe around them faded into the darkness of interdimensional travel.

WITH his AT-7 holstered at his side, ready to be drawn at the slightest provocation, Steiner walked through the P.A.V., inspecting the performance of his crew. His muscles ached from the constant tension he exerted on them to keep himself ready to defend against an attack. At any moment, someone might jump out at him from one of the open doorways or shadowy corners.

During the six hours since the launch, he’d noticed that the other convicts were always silent in his presence; some even stared until he left. He sensed they were afraid of him. He liked that. It might keep him alive longer.

He fastened another button on his jacket. Why was he so cold all the time? An hour earlier, he had checked the environmental controls just to make sure the temperature gauge was set for the mid seventies. Perhaps it was malfunctioning, too. He shivered. The lifeless gray surroundings strengthened the chill that gripped him. Even as he passed by workmen repairing the seared walls, it couldn’t melt his utter despair. He knew he was probably only there to die.

When he ascended a stairway to the second level of the crew quarters, he caught a glimpse of someone following far behind him. Impulsively, his hand went to the handle of his pistol.

No,
he scolded himself, easing his fingers off the weapon. Paranoia might be stealing his judgment away. He would first test his suspicion.

He entered one of the ladder wells and climbed down to the lower decks, where the landing bay and armory were located. Rarely did anyone go down there.

After walking a short distance through a vacant passageway, he pretended to stop in order to use Suzanne’s computer pad. While he faked pressing its keypads, he ventured a quick glance behind him. The straggler wasn’t there. Just as relief began to flood through him, his peripheral vision caught a face peeking around a corner in the direction from which he had just come.

There was no mistake about it this time.

He continued on as if he hadn’t noticed the man, picking up his pace just enough to get out of visual range. When the corridor curved slightly, he slipped into a niche in the bulkhead. He pressed himself into it, feeling the icy touch of metal against the back of his head. His breathing quickened.

Less than a minute passed before he heard the scuffle of footsteps. He lifted his AT-7 from its holster and sprang from his hiding place. His pistol muzzle was pointed at—

Sam?

Steiner lowered his gun, paralyzed by the fear that he might have shot the boy. Sam must have been the one trailing him all along. Steiner checked to make sure no one else was in sight, then thrust Sam into the concealment of the niche.

“What do you think you’re doing by following me?” He whispered what he wanted to scream. “I could have killed you.”

“I’m watching your back,” Sam answered.

“I don’t need your protection.” Steiner realized his voice had risen too loud. A deep breath calmed him enough to continue. “I don’t care what happens to me, but I want to make sure you’re safe. If you’re seen with me, it could put you in jeopardy.”

“You saved me from Al,” Sam replied. “I owe you.”

“I didn’t bring you along so that you can repay me.”

“That’s the only reason I came.”

Steiner sighed. From past experience, he knew it was useless to try to change the boy’s convictions about anything. If Sam was determined to protect him, then nothing would keep him from doing so. However, there was a chance that his mission could be modified.

“Sam, if you truly want to help me, then you must pretend you don’t know me.” When the boy tried to speak, Steiner covered his mouth. “Hear me out first.” He waited for a nod before he removed his hand.

Sam’s eyes sparkled with the fire of determination, yet he remained still.

“Blend in with the other convicts,” Steiner told him. “Act like them. Get them to trust you. Then, you can function as my eyes and ears for any approaching danger.”

The boy’s gaze softened. “I’ll agree if you watch your back better.”

“I spotted you, didn’t I?”

“After being followed halfway across the ship. If I had a weapon, I could have—”

Sam deflected Steiner’s hand as it came up to silence him again. The memories of their defense-training matches at Atwood came back to Steiner. He twisted the boy’s arms together. Sam fought vainly to release himself, but he had never been a match for Steiner physically. A grin cracked the boy’s strained face as his strength gave out.

“I’ll beat you someday,” he said between gasps for breath.

Steiner couldn’t prevent himself from chuckling softly. “But not today, amigo. Are we clear on your role?”

“How can I warn you if I can’t be seen with you?”

“Use Mason as a messenger.”

When Sam nodded, Steiner freed his arms.

“Be sure to keep one eye behind you,” the boy said.

“I will. Now, get out of here.”

Sam punched him in the arm lightly, smiled, then slipped out of the niche.

Steiner hated to think how much he would miss the teenager’s company.

THE next two days passed as the first, long and filled with anxiety. Steiner didn’t allow himself to sleep even for a few hours. Above all else, he had to maintain an unpredictable schedule, which would make it difficult for anyone trying to kill him.

Nobody had tried yet.

The effects from lack of sleep finally caught up with him as he patrolled through the firing range. Inside the darkened arena, his vision blurred worse than it had all day. When he closed his eyes to allow them to adjust, the haze building in his head seemed to ease. After a few seconds, he opened them, determined not to be tempted to sleep again.

He toured behind the BLUE team as they stood in a line, armed with fake assault rifles, shooting light rays at targets on a far wall. The camera in the back corner of the room panned along with Steiner. He could feel Tramer’s stare boring into him. Since the beginning of the voyage, the cyborg had never left the command center. It kept watch over the entire ship through the security monitors.

Steiner stopped behind one of the gunners, James Grant, impressed by the accuracy of his shots. The man might be the best marksman they had. As Steiner watched, the flashes on the target began to blur together into a fuzzy, twinkling star. All the surrounding sights and noises faded out. The sparkling orb grew in radiance until it was all he could see. His mind floated into its grasp.

Mary looked up into his eyes, sharing a secret smile with him before placing the wedding band on his finger. Her eyes watered as the minister pronounced them husband and wife. They kissed.

A shout pierced his ears.

Steiner cried out as his attention snapped back to the range. James Grant froze in the midst of what seemed to be a celebration dance. His target blinked with the symbol for a perfect score.

Grant and the men around him stared at Steiner, startled by his sudden outburst. An uneasy moment passed as Steiner tried to think of a way to rationalize his odd behavior. His mind was too clouded by weariness to be creative.

“Continue with the next set.” Tramer’s voice echoed throughout the arena.

At the command of their leader, Grant and the rest of the BLUE shift began firing at the targets once again.

When Steiner looked up into the rear corner, he found the camera still aimed at him. He tried to swallow the shame welling up in his throat.

Faint snickers sounded from the trainees as he left the range. Steiner was disappointed with himself. The incident would be all over the ship within a few hours. It might cause the crew to lose their fear of him.

As he continued with his rounds, he found that his mind strayed more often. It became a struggle to focus his attention. Shadows played at the corners of his vision, causing him to flinch for no reason. Maybe he needed some food? He stopped by the cafeteria, got a meal, and took it to his cabin. He refused to eat in view of the convicts since it would be a sign of his own mortality. They needed to believe him to be an indestructible man, requiring no nourishment or rest. His mistake earlier might have tarnished that image. He couldn’t afford any more displays of weakness. Not ever.

The synthesized entrées tasted bland, but at least they were nourishing. He closed his eyes momentarily and found it difficult to open them again. His muscles ached with fatigue. He had to have rest, even if it was just a brief nap. He couldn’t risk being asleep for long, since he still had to maintain his hourly rounds. He stretched out on the cot, his body welcoming the softness of the mattress.

For reassurance, he dragged out the weapons that he had put under the cot during his tour with Suzanne. He positioned the satchel of grenades next to him on the mattress, then propped the blast shield up against the bed frame, directly in front of his body.

Satisfied, he surrendered himself into the tender grasp of his pillow and let his thoughts go.

It wasn’t long before sleep embraced him, a dreamy haze of images and colors, swirling around in giant whirlpools. Peace replaced all worries. He wanted to stay there forever.

An irritating sound echoed throughout the rainbowlike landscapes. He recognized it as the call of pain and suffering. When he tried to flee from it, his legs wouldn’t move. The noise grew in intensity until he couldn’t bear it any longer.

When he awoke, he found his portable comlink flashing, its message alarm beeping. He brought the device up to his face. “Steiner here,” he said.

“Captain,” the synthesized voice of Tramer replied, “we have a U.S.S. ship requesting transmission of your password.”

“How long have they been waiting?”

“Nearly five minutes. They have forced us to dephase into normal space and armed their weapons.”

Steiner bolted from his cot, almost falling down from a head rush. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” he bellowed as he strapped on his gun belt.

“I have been signaling you since the ship first appeared. Only now have you answered.”

The mysterious noises in Steiner’s dream must have been the message alarm. It was his own fault for not responding to it earlier. “I’m on my way,” he said, softening his tone.

He splashed water on his face, jarring his senses back to life, and sprinted from his cabin. As he ran down the corridors, dodging crew members, he scolded himself for dropping his guard again. Twice now, his mistakes had weakened his image.

When he bounded up the steps to the command center, his heart stopped at the sight of the cyborg standing at the top. His hatred of it paled in comparison to the threat of attack. He raced past it without a second thought.

A small gunship closed distance in the front viewport, all weapons trained on them.

The navigator, Simmons, sat at the communication console, begging the other vessel’s commander to wait. He backed away from the mouthpiece to allow Steiner to speak into it.

“This is Captain Jacob Steiner. Hold your fire.”

“Transmit the appropriate password,” came the response.

“I was asleep. Stand down.”

“You have twenty seconds left to comply.” The channel went dead.

Idiots,
Steiner shouted silently. Even though he and his crew were prisoners, they deserved to be treated with the same respect due other U.S.S. personnel.

He slid into his command chair to access the shielded keyboard. His fingers hesitated above the pads. A wave of panic swept through him when he realized that he had forgotten to bring Suzanne’s computer pad. In his hurry, he had left it next to his bed.

He searched frantically though his memory. What was the password? It started with “PAV.” What were the numbers that followed? It had been a simple series with several repeating digits. If there weren’t any urgency, he would probably be able to remember.

“Captain,” Tramer said emotionlessly. “They have been waiting too long already.”