“Fuckin-A,” Paul replied and drank more coffee watching the monitor too.
*****
By the time the cutting reached ninety-five percent finished the soldiers were getting close to the mining rig. Paul and Blake watched from the control room as soldiers stopped about a kilometer from their position to confer, and take a break. It doesn’t take long for the heat to become unbearable in the Australian outback, and though it’s around eleven AM local time, the temperature had reached thirty-five degrees Celsius outside. Paul admired the soldier’s stamina, jogging along in such heat with combat gear on for more than twenty kilometers. The soldiers seemed in deep discussion, and the difficulty of not being able to contact their base, thanks to the Y-field, wouldn’t have helped. After about twenty minutes a soldier shouted, and the message went down the line. The soldiers climbed to their feet, putting canteens away, about to resume the search. The cutter readout indicated they had three percent left to cut.
“Not long now,” Blake said, meaning until the soldiers find them.
“I’m going to the mining compartment, in case they try to get in there,” Paul said picking up a disruptor pistol off the console, and activating it.
“Happy hunting, Major,” Blake said as Paul left.
Nadir decided Blake should stay out of the line of fire as much as possible, as only he could build the new qdrive, which made Paul more expendable. Paul took his position at one end of the open lower hull and waited. After about fifteen minutes, a head appeared looking up inside the mining rig from beneath. An Australian Soldier’s eyes bulged, as he looked inside. He began to shout for his CO, when Paul stunned him. Outside, the drones began to fire disruptors on the soldiers. The sound of automatic weapons fire sounded, as the soldiers shot back. A bullet suddenly ricocheted from the exposed hull and hit the wall next to Paul’s head. Paul looked at it thinking he’s lucky he didn’t get killed. He moved his position to give him better protection from stray bullets.
Once the cutter had finished, Paul hit a button and the cutting rig recoiled into the vessel. Blake came out to the mining room and they put the cutting rig away, and setup the extraction rig, lowering it into the mineshaft. As they descended, a burst of disruptor fire from the drones began to keep them covered. The first job is to remove the crystal offcuts from above the sphere so it could be extracted. The cutter had already cut the crystal they needed to remove first, so by manual labor they loaded the lift with chunks of crystal to be taken away. Paul left Blake down in the mine to prevent any potential of him being hurt, and unloaded the lift into the mining rig alone. The sound of battle outside kept growing more intense.
“Haven’t you got them under control yet?” Paul shouted for Nadir.
“Most of them, but some have found cover and are putting up resistance,” Nadirs voice said over the speakers.
To pull the crystal sphere out of its resting place Blake applied a system of suction cups attached to a GFM. Gently they lifted the sphere clear of its resting place making them look at it with some satisfaction.
Paul’s cell buzzed and he answered it. “What’s happening up there, Colonel?”
Nadir sounded anxious. “Their setting up artillery from outside the Y-field. Without shields you’re fucked, so get outta there now!”
Blake swore. Paul replied, “We’ve extracted the crystal, we probably need another thirty minutes to get it up the mineshaft, and secured on the rig.”
Paul looked at Blake who had quickly began attaching the protective cover, which wrapped around the crystal.
“I’m sending drones to deal with the artillery now,” Nadir said.
“How we doin’ Blakey?” Paul asked.
“Just another fine day in the Corps, Major,” he said with a grim smile.
Once the cover attached, they realized that they were stuck beneath it, which created the risk of damage as it left the shaft and entered the rig. The risk from stray bullets. Nothing could be done about it now, so Blake activated the GFM with his remote. They put a foot in hanging nooses, and the platform and began the slow ascent. As they got closer to the surface their worst fears were realized, and they could hear gunfire mixed with the crackle of plasma fire from a drone. An explosion made the ground shake around them, as an artillery shell fell close to the mining rig.
Blake screwed up his face. “Fuck! If these bastards damage this crystal after all we’ve been through to get it, I will personally kick each of their asses myself!”
“I’ll join you,” Paul said sharing the frustration. He grabbed his cell and Nadir answered immediately. “Colonel we’re getting close to the surface. When we do you’ll need to ramp up your attack to cover us while we enter the mining rig.”
“Roger that. How long will it be before you reach the surface?” Nadir asked.
Blake yelled, “Four minutes, Colonel, and then give em hell.”
“You can count on it, Gordon,” Nadir said with a touch of affection.
So they hung there silently as the GFM edged its way up to the sound of gunfire, and the odd explosion. The time seemed to go slowly but eventually the gunfire suddenly stopped replaced by the loud crackle and hiss of disruptor fire bursting from the drones. The soldiers hit were stunned, while the others hunkered down in foxholes and behind rocks to take cover. The crystal sphere entered the rig first, then the heads of two dirty men looking about, popped up. Smoke was everywhere, which Paul felt glad about as it meant that the soldiers probably couldn’t see them. Once they were half inside both men swung their legs up to the floor of the rig, and climbed inside.
Blake turned to Paul and said, “Get us out of here, Major, I’ll secure the sphere.”
Paul ran to the Bridge of the mining rig and started the lift off procedure. The sound of guns firing returned as the Drones now wound down their firepower because they were now aboard. Bullets hit the outer hull of the rig with little damage. He noticed his console read the rig is still open, and waited for a moment as he couldn’t lift-off until the rig is sealed. Seconds ticked by and still nothing.
“Blakey, what’s going on?” Paul shouted down the intercom.
He got no reply.
“Blakey, what the fuck are you doing back there?”
Again, no reply. He jumped out of his chair swearing to himself as he did, and sprinted through the compartments to the mining section at the rear. As he entered the dirty compartment, he looked around for Blake, but couldn’t find him.
“Blakey! Where the fuck are you?” Paul shouted, but nobody responded. He pulled out his cell and hit Blake’s icon and waited for him to answer, still nothing. Paul climbed around the equipment to where he last seen Blake, and noticed a dark smudge on the floor that looked out of place. He put his finger in it and rubbed his thumb over it. Its blood, he thought alarmed.
At that point a bullet suddenly ricocheted off the one of the hatches making Paul duck again. He looked into the dark shaft realizing with horror what had happened. Standing quickly he hit a button that made the outer hatches begin to close and made toward the control room.
“Blake’s gone down the shaft! A bullet I think,” Paul shouted, pulling a med-evac pack out of a cupboard.
“Shit! Is he OK?” Nadir’s alarmed voice came from the speakers in the rig.
“I don’t know yet do I. I’ve closed the hatches, I want you to fire a stun wave so I can get to him without having to worry about these assholes outside,” Paul said.
“It’s done. There’s nothing moving for fifty kilometers,” Nadir said.
“Good, once I’m out of here you can autopilot the mining rig home. I’ll bring Blake in the shuttle,” Paul said opening an air lock and jumping outside into the heat of the day.
He looked around at the scene in shock. Bodies of soldiers lay everywhere, and thick smoke and dust filled the air. He smelled the unmistakable ozone smell left after a stun wave had been deployed. The hatch sealed behind him. He hit a button on his cell and the shuttle suddenly appe
ared ten meters away, to the north of the rig. He placed the med pack on the ground and ran to the shuttle feeling a gust of air behind him indicating the mining rig had lifted off. From the shuttle he grabbed the GFM from the metal case and shoved it inside a backpack and put it on. Picking up the remote, and a torch, he ran back toward the mineshaft. Holding the med-evac pack under his arm, he fiddled with the GFM remote until he began hovering off the ground. He moved over the dark mineshaft opening, and abruptly dropped.
At first shining the torch down as he dropped didn’t show much as the shaft is two hundred meters deep. However, once the bottom came into sight, Paul slowed his descent using the remote. He could see Blake lying there, not moving.
“Blake!” he yelled, but still Blake didn’t move.
As his feet touched the crystal bottom of the mineshaft, he deactivated the GFM, and rushed to Blake’s side. Thank heavens there’s a faint pulse present, he thought. From the side of the med-pack he pulled out a stiff neck collar, and applied it. Blake lay on his stomach, so he straightened him. Blood flowed from his abdomen, and Paul got some on his hands. He looked at it for a moment twisting his hands, and feeling afraid for Blake. Paul placed the med-evac pack on top of Blake back, and hit a button on top of it. A clear synthetic compound suddenly shot out of the med-evac pack, encasing Blake’s body entirely. The med-evac control console began to show his vital signs, it put him in stasis so Paul could get him back to Ship for proper medical treatment.
The only way he could get Blake up to the surface is to carry him. He Picked up the heavy man and held him around the waist, and pressed the button on the GFM remote. Slowly he began to rise, picking up speed as he adjusted the remote. It isn’t such a strain holding Blake like this as they rose to the surface, due to the sensation of falling. He had to make sure Blake didn’t bump into the wall of the shaft. What worried him is the backpack, which held the GFM inside. If it tore under the strain, they’d fall down the shaft and probably die.
He shot out of the mine in a rush, and fiddled with the remote which he couldn’t see. They travelled about one hundred meters into the air before he eventually started to slowly drop back down. Landing next to the mineshaft entrance he held Blake in one arm while putting the GFM remote in his pocket. He lifted Blake up in his arms and carried him into the shuttle. Laying Blake wrapped in his cocoon on the floor, he rushed to the console and started the prelaunch checks. Once he finished, Paul accelerated so fast that a sonic boom sounded across the area.
“Shuttle to Ship, I have Blake and will be there in twelve minutes,” Paul reported.
Nadir appeared on the monitor with a sweaty forehead, “Is he OK?”
“He’s alive, got a bullet in the guts by the looks of it. That’s all I know,” Paul said.
“We’ll be waiting with a stretcher. Safe trip,” Nadir said and vanished.
Paul looked back on Blake and noted the med-evac system flashing green, which meant that he’s alive and stable. He felt bad for leaving Blake to finish securing the sphere alone, if he had stayed he might’ve prevented this. Just another situation that he’ll be blamed for. Paul felt tired of being blamed for everything that happened to him, not because of him. No, he thought, this has to change. Seeing Blake there reminded Paul that he’s just as much a victim as anyone else. Since he first discovered the Baliri five years ago, his life. It has to stop, he thought. A fear rippled through him though, knowing that they were relying so much on Blake rebuilding the qdrive, and there he lay his life in the balance. Without the qdrive, they would never be able to go home. They could spend the rest of their lives virtual prisoners on Ship, as thrusters alone would never be able take them to another habitable planet. We might never get home, he thought feeling afraid. We could be stuck in this dimension forever.
He considered Nadir and Blake, the possible saboteurs. More and more it didn’t make sense to Paul why these two would blatantly sabotage the mission on one hand, then wholeheartedly work toward getting them out of here on the other. Why keep fighting so hard to succeed on repairing Ship, if this is a suicide mission for them? Paul’s instincts were now telling him that Nadir and Blake were set up. However, that led to the ultimate question. By whom? It can’t be Lijuan, Jane, or Dexter, he thought. Suddenly, it hit him.
Fragments of conversations about terrible nightmares, acts of blatant sabotage, the communications hub that doesn’t work despite nothing being wrong with it, the planted remote for the detonator, disgruntled ex-lovers of the Professor suddenly surfacing en masse, and now the mysterious informant about their mining. He had been looking at the crew for possible suspects, when all along they were innocent. They had a stowaway on board, and if Paul is right, a dangerous one at that. A Vaman, he thought, a fucking Vaman. I hope I can lure it out and kill before it realizes I know about it.
He got up and went to the back of the shuttle and pulled open a drawer and rummaged inside for a moment. He pulled out a case, and from that he got out a small device the size of his hand. He turned it on and put it next to his temple, and began to remove all he had thought about it from his memory, and stored it in the neural implant in his brain. This way he hoped to keep the Vaman ignorant of the fact he had figured it out. They might be able to read minds, but they can’t read neural implants.
Chapter 13
Richard found life rather boring as a prisoner in a comfortable cage. What he thought would last a week or so, had lasted much longer than he imagined possible. The television programs he could watch had grown so tedious for him, that he couldn’t even stand seeing them anymore. Being cut off from human contact, with no news from home, had become a subtle form of torture. He often found himself pacing the floor for no reason. The temperature on the balcony always seemed freezing. He could only last outside for a few minutes in the thin white cotton overalls he had been given to wear. Sometimes he paced the floor, thinking about Emma and what she must be going through. He had put her through enough over the years with his many affairs, but now there’s this. Her father is a rich media baron in Australia, which of course is the reason he married her. Her money meant he could take it easy, though his employment is reasonably well paid. Then there’s Marcus, his friend for many years, and the man who kept his many affairs secret. There’s been many women paid off to keep silent about his affairs with them. Marcus usually organized that for him. Richard wished he could see Marcus now.
He collapsed on the soft-red sofa with a sigh, when suddenly the phone rang. He sat up and looked at it, thinking about answering it. Part of him didn’t want to answer the phone, as an act of defiance. However, he felt so alone that even talking on the phone to his captors seemed better than nothing. Recently he had been talking with a man who had a squeaky, almost childlike voice. He even began to enjoy these conversations as it became obvious the man is very intelligent, and because the man wouldn’t give him his name Richard started calling him ‘Squeaky’.
He picked up the phone. “Hi, Squeaky,” he answered.
“Hello Rishard,” a strange voice said. A deep, almost husky voice that hissed slightly on the ‘S’ sounds. The voice had a weird accent he couldn’t place.
It’s not squeaky, he thought. “Who’s this?” Richard asked, feeling his stomach bubble.
“They’re going to kill you,” the voice said.
“I suppose so, there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?” Richard felt annoyed by the intrusion.
“I could help you get out of here.”
“Look mate, if my father in-law won’t pay your friends, he won’t pay you either. So kill me and get it over with, OK!”
Richard slammed the phone down, and went toward his bedroom. The phone began to ring again as he reached the door, he turned to look at it. He didn’t necessarily feel angry, due to the drug they’d given him, but he is angry. He sat and picked up the receiver and put it to his ear.
“Don’t be so hasty, Rishard. I’m not after your money. It means nothing to me,” the voice said.
“Sure mate, you’re just a humanitarian doing a good deed,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
A cold laughter echoed on the phone that would’ve made Richard feel scared, if his feelings were working properly.
“I’m no humanitarian, I can assure you. I’ll help you escape, but you must do something for me in return, that much is true.”
“Ah, there’s always a catch. So if it isn’t money you want, then what?” Richard asked.
“I need some information smuggled out of here, and delivered to some friends. If you do this for me, I’ll help you escape so you can give it to them.”
“What kind of information?”
“That’s unimportant for you to know. Are you interested?”
“Why can’t you give these people the information yourself?”
“There’s a possibility I may be dead by the time they get here. I need someone to make sure they get it, that’s all.”
“Get here? Where are they?”
“They’re… a long way away, that’s all you need to know. Now, are you interested?”
“How do I know your offer is not a trick? How can I trust you?” Richard said with a nod, thinking he’d outplayed this man.
“All right, to show you that you can trust me, I’ll tell you something about your jail you can test. Something your captors don’t want you to know.”
Richard sat up, sensing what the voice is about to tell him is important. “OK. What?”
“Throw something over the balcony.”
“What?” Richard decided this must be a joke after all and slumped back into the sofa.
“Throw something over the balcony and watch it fall,” the voice insisted.
“Are you kidding? It’s freezing outside.”
“It’s an illusion. It’s trickery. Do as I say and you’ll see it for yourself. Goodbye Rishard we’ll talk again soon,” the phone went dead.
Richard stood and walked to the glass doors that led to the balcony. He put his hand on it, feeling it cold to touch from the outside air. Thinking he had nothing to lose he walked into the bedroom and grabbed the quilt off the bed, and wrapped it around himself. He went to the kitchen and picked an orange off the top of a bowl of fruit. Standing at the glass doors that opened to the balcony, he thought his captors were probably watching and having a good laugh at his expense. At least this game relieved the boredom, and that’s the reason he’s playing along. Pushing the heavy door open he stepped outside and immediately felt a blast of cold air hit him. He shivered all over, but pushed on to the balcony. The wooden floor felt icy and slippery as walked across it. At the rails he leaned over, pulling the quilt firmly around him as peered down at the sheer drop that looked several thousand feet. Pulling the orange from under his quilt, he held it over the abyss, and let it go. He leaned over the rail to watch it fall when he heard a slight thump. Less than a meter below the floor of the balcony, the orange seemed to hover in the air, defying gravity. The words of the voice echoed in his mind: It’s an illusion. It’s trickery.