The Last Flight of the Argus (27 page)

“
Anything you can do to hurry the process?” an impatient Maddox asked.

“
There’s always something to do,” Inquisitor Cer replied.

B’taav
and Cer moved past dark corridors and deeper into the body of the abandoned Phaecian base. The place was a model of Spartan functionality. Rooms and corridors were no larger than they absolutely needed to be. The furniture, all of it bolted to the floors, was boxy, firm, and uncomfortable.

B’taav and Cer spent an hour criss-crossing the station and repairing energy lines and computer systems. The maintenance storage room proved the only room within the base still carrying a full complement of supplies. The station’s last occupants removed all foods and weapons before departing.

“
Other than the obvious, what did they do here during the war?” B’taav asked.

Inquisitor Cer lowered her tools. The faceplate of her helmet, as was the case with B’taav’s, was fogged because of her heavy breathing resulting from their strenuous work.

“
You mean other than spy on the Epsillon war efforts? They left behind a cargo craft. Perhaps at one time or another they used it to raids merchant vessels and confiscate their supplies.”

“
Wouldn’t that attract unwanted attention?”

“
Of course. More likely the ship was used for exactly what it was designed: To ferry cargo to the base. For its time, it was quick and she is armed. She has a single fusion cannon mounted on its front.”

“
Hardly a fearsome offensive, or defensive, weapon.”

“
Yet a weapon nonetheless.”

“
Ok, so she moved supplies to this base. Where did she get those supplies from? It’s not like a Phaecian vessel could slip undetected into an Epsillon Displacer and take a ride across the border. Not unless—”

B’taav didn’t finish his thought. A knowing smile appear on his face.

“
You guys had your own Displacer around here, didn’t you?”

“
At one time. It didn’t survive the explosion.”

“
I believe you,” B’taav said after a while.

“
Oh? Why?”

“
If it still existed, I doubt you would have admitted you had it in the first place.”

B’taav
and Cer returned to the control room a full three full hours after originally leaving it. They were hungry and tired but pleased with their progress. The damaged energy grid was mostly patched up. Energy readings indicated that the station’s power was a little over the desired seventy-five percent.

“
Maddox, do you read me?” Inquisitor Cer said.

“
Go ahead.”

“
We’re ready to activate life support and artificial gravity.”

“
Understood. We’re going to stay strapped in the sled until you initiate the artificial gravity.”

“
Agreed.”

“
Easy with the increments,” B’taav said. “We wouldn’t want anything to come crashing down too hard.”

Inquisitor Cer pressed a series of buttons and both she and B’taav felt a slow increase in the pull of gravity. After so long without it, it was a welcome feeling. On the opposite side of the room, a pair of crates floating knee-high gently touched down on the floor. All around the station similar items also dropped.

“
The station now has standard gravity,” Cer said.

“
Acknowledged,” Maddox replied. “Now, get the life support systems online. We’d like to get out of these suits.”

“
You’re not the only one.”

Inquisitor Cer worked the controls some more. Reading indicated a rise in temperature, but because of their environmental suits, neither B’taav nor Inquisitor Cer felt the change. Soon, the displays indicated the station once again had breathable air.

“
I'm seeing no leaks. Atmosphere is stable.”

“
And the temperature?”

“
Best I can do is three degrees Celsius.”

“
Chilly, but livable,” B’taav said. “Now comes the hard part: Taking off our suits. How much faith do we have in the readouts from these old computers?”

“
Just like an Independent to question an Inquisitor’s faith,” Cer said. She reached into one of her suit’s pockets and removed a small black environmental sensor. She activated it and, after reading the results, nodded.

“
That old computer had it right,” Inquisitor Cer said and offered the Independent a wink. “Faith can take you far, but verification completes your journey.”

Inquisitor Cer removed a series of bolts that kept her helmet in place. She unscrewed it. A loud hiss was heard as the air from her suit rushed out. After removing her helmet, she stood still. Her yellow hair was flat and her stony brown eyes stared forward.

Finally, she took a deep breath of the station’s air.

B’taav watched her with equal parts fascination and dread. After a few seconds, the Inquisitor eyed the Independent and said:

“
What are you waiting for?”

“
The
station is functional.”

B’taav and Cer stood beside the escape sled. They no longer wore their helmets but remained in their environmental suits. The heat emitted from them was welcome. The passengers of the sled remained in their suits. But not for long.

One by one, they rose and eagerly removed their gear. A couple, Maddox and Rasp, stepped onto the landing strip before doing so.

B’taav watched them all, for it was the first time the Independent saw the faces of all the passengers aboard the
Pilgrimage
. When the decision was made to use the escape sled, B’taav and Cer were the last to suit up before putting the ship on autopilot. When they stepped into the control section of the escape sled, everyone else was already suited up and in place.

B’taav knew and had already seen Rasp, Maddox, Inquisitor Cer, Nathaniel, and the gray haired lady. The remaining six passengers were all men. The largest of them were a trio seated together in the last section of the sled. They laid their helmets down and quickly unzipped their suits. Each was dressed in thin gray plastic body armor. B'taav recognized it as belonging to the Veils, a well-known for-hire mercenary outfit. They were likely here to protect one or all the passengers, and they each carried steel suitcases. No doubt their weapons were stored within.

The remaining three men were seated immediately in front of the Mercs. They showed their inexperience with the environmental suits by the amount of time it took to remove them.

The man closest to the escape sled’s ladder was in his late forties. He was dressed head to toe in an elegant, high quality white suit. There was an incredible sadness on this man’s face, as if he recently suffered a great loss.

The man next to him took even longer to remove his gear. When it was off, B’taav immediately recognized him, but not by name. The man wore a regal dark green robe that identified him as one of the Phaecian Empire's Territorial Cardinals. In the centuries of history of the Phaecian Empire, none of the fifty six Cardinals had
ever
ventured outside that Empire’s borders. According to their religious dogma, to do so invited temptation and was therefore strictly prohibited. All diplomatic meetings between the Epsillon and Phaecians, at least on this side of the border, were conducted through intermediaries. Inquisitor Cer's presence among this group suddenly made perfect sense. She, like the three Veil Mercs at the back of the escape sled, was here to protect specific passengers.

B’taav also recognized the third, and last, of this trio of men. He stood slightly less than six feet tall and carried a delicate, prematurely aging frame. His hair was thin, his cheeks sunken in. In spite of this, he projected considerable power. Even here, in the middle of nowhere.

Stephen Gray.

He was a high ranking Epsillon Empire Industrialist and owner of both the Bandilion and Seriana companies. Each company had a long reach within the Epsillon Empire, from sophisticated weapon manufacturing to heavy cargo hauling to entertainment productions.

To say the least, it was an odd group.

A hand fell on B’taav’s shoulder. Maddox stood beside him.

“
Well done,” Maddox said. For the first time since the trip began, his face carried something other than a scowl. “It isn’t often you successfully evade the Epsillon Empire’s finest headhunters.”

“
It's getting to be a habit,” B’taav replied.

“
And here I thought you were humble,” Inquisitor Cer said.

A couple of the passengers chuckled at Inquisitor Cer’s statement. The tension they felt was replaced by levity. The passengers of the escape sled broke up into smaller groups. Their conversations were informal, mostly complaints about the station’s stale and very cold air. A couple admired the architecture of the place, while the three Mercs quietly checked their luggage. They did this away from any prying eyes.

The only ones not engaged in conversation were B’taav, Inquisitor Cer, and the boy with the red ball. The boy didn’t seem aware of anything occurring around him.

B’taav noisily cleared his throat. The conversations around him died out.

“
I don’t mean to ruin your good cheer, but I’m worried,” the Independent said.

“
About?” Maddox asked.

“
Daniels’ ships. We escaped, but only for the time being. If they haven't done so already, they will realize no one was on board the
Pilgrimage
when it exploded. Lieutenant Daniels’ considerable resources will be directed toward finding us once again.”

“
How will he do this?” Stephen Gray asked.

“
The life support systems in this base are old and noisy, both sonically and electronically. In time, his ships will pick us up. At the very least, his ship’s sensors will note the increase in temperature within this rock.”

“
This base has existed many years without detection,” Cer countered.

“
That was back when sensor equipment wasn’t quite as sophisticated as it is now. If we give them time, they will find us.”

“
That's true,” Maddox said. “But given the number of asteroids in this area, and unless we’re colossally unlucky, we should be fine. At least for a few days. Certainly long enough to get the
Xendos
operational.”

“
The
Xendos
?” B’taav said. “Why?”

“
This base was never intended to be our ultimate destination. We still have a ways to go. We only agreed to sacrifice the
Pilgrimage
because we knew about this ship.” A deep frown formed on the bartender’s face. “Had I known we might eventually need her, I would have spent more time making sure she was functional. As it is, it's up to us to get her moving before Daniels finds us.”

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

With
each breath they took of the stagnant and frigid air, the more they grew used to it.

B’taav, Inquisitor Cer, and Maddox took two hours examining the
Xendos
.

On the first, cursory look, they found several personal items including photographs, diaries, jewel boxes, discarded magazines, and books the ship’s last crew left behind. In the corner of the main engine room, B'taav found a half-finished letter a crewman wrote to either his wife or lover. It was addressed to “Helen” and the author wished he could return to her side. Whether this happened would remain unknown.

Inquisitor Cer treated the material with respect and swore she would return the more personal material to their families, if it was at all possible.

The trio left the effects in a crew compartment and turned their attention to the ship’s engines. They were a relic of ancient times, but were well preserved. The trick, obviously, was to treat them with great care while fixing them up.

“
The engine design is simple enough,” Inquisitor Cer told both B’taav and Maddox. Given her familiarity with Phaecian designed ships, she took the lead in the engine's refurbishing. “Our first step is to fix any leaks and replace batteries, liquids, and fuels.”

“
There were some spare parts on the lower decks,” Maddox said. “There are also some fuel tanks.”

“
Let’s hope none of that material has degraded, and that there’s enough to take us where we need to go,” B’taav said. “Where do we need to go?”

“
We’ll worry about that when we get the ship moving,” Maddox replied.

“
Does the base have a machine shop?” B'taav asked.

“
I think so. It should be in the lower decks of the station, as well.”

“
Any parts we don’t have, we may be able to make.”

“
That will take time.”

“
How long do you think we have before Daniels finds us?” Maddox asked B’taav.

“
Four or five days at the very most. Sooner if we’ve angered him enough.”

“
And how long before the
Xendos
is up and running?”

“
If I gave any estimate it would be little more than a guess.”