Wreck of the Nebula Dream (12 page)

“Yeah, this ship is no place to linger,” Nick said. “Wasn’t there an LB davit a few yards from here?”

He led the group at a half run down the corridor, Mara carrying Gianna and holding Paolo’s hand. The LB indicator light was green. Relieved, Nick tried punching in the release code. Frowning, he read the response and tried the sequence again. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“New problem?” Khevan asked. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“The readout shows the LB wasn’t launched but this, over here –” he tapped an impatient finger on a smaller screen to the left “– says the boat isn’t in the davit.” Nick had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It’s reading as a vacant, unboarded station. Damn thing is contradicting itself. Either it’s vacant, or there’s an LB there.”

“Well, so – so it’s confused.” Mara’s voice quavered. Clearing her throat, she stared from Nick to Khevan. “We’re wasting time. There’s another portal by the anti-grav lift, on the far side. I noticed the light was green when we got out of the shaft on our way to get the children. We should move on to the next portal.”

“Always good to have a backup plan. I like your attention to detail, even in the chaos. Let’s move.” Taking her by the elbow, Nick escorted her down the corridor.

But when he reached the next glowing green LB portal, he got the same conflicting messages from the interface. “Almost as if no lifeboat was stowed in the first place,” he said, flicking his fingers against the screen. “As if someone set the indicator to green after overriding the Ship’s AI net.”

“So it would think it had an LB stationed here when it didn’t?” Khevan crowded close behind him, peering at the various readouts.

Nick nodded. “Which would explain all those extra passengers on Level Three, fighting for space on our boats. I wondered where the hell they came from.”

“You’re not making sense.” Mara shifted Gianna in her arms to sit on her outthrust hip. “SMT couldn’t carry passengers without a full complement of LBs – that’s against the Interstellar Commerce Code!”

“Wouldn’t be the first thing I’ve found on this damn ship which wasn’t as advertised,” Nick said grimly. “Lack of lifeboats is a much more serious omission for SMT to make than leaving out the anti-grav workout facility or the mineral hot baths.” Anger ran hot through his veins as the ship flexed and groaned. “We’re wasting valuable time here.”

“And we should go where?” Khevan asked, staring in the direction they’d come.

“The bridge.” Nick was brusque.
I’ve had enough of this bullshit.
“There will be crew there. We can get some goddamn answers and direction to an LB. The command staff will be the last off, or may not leave at all. If the ship isn’t completely doomed by whatever happened to us tonight, SMT’ll keep a skeleton crew on board to wait for the rescue crews, keep her from being claimed by some enterprising salvage tug owner out to make the score of ten lifetimes.”

“How do we get there?” Mara sounded dubious, frowning at him. “The anti-grav shaft only goes to the Casino Level.”

“I’ve been to the bridge. I had a tour of the
Nebula Dream
yesterday, in fact. We’ll have to take a special access grav lift to get there. Now, we need to move faster if we can. Who knows if there are more hull breaches, or any other
minor
problems Captain Bonlors forgot to mention in his so-charming holo message.”

“I wanted to punch him,” Mara admitted as the small group stepped into the anti-grav shaft again. “I’ve been on enough interstellar flights to know what a load of – of comet dust he was spewing.”

Nick held tight to Paolo’s hand as the anti-grav carried them smoothly past Level One and Level B, and then to the terminus at the Casino Level. “He was wasting precious time, for sure. I have a few questions I want to ask him, when we get to the bridge.”

“And I’ll be right behind you with my own inquiries.” Khevan’s angular face was set in somber lines. “This was all handled poorly.”

“To say the least.” Getting his bearings in the deserted corridor on Level A as the grav-shaft door closed behind them, Nick pointed out the landmarks. “Control Level access is to the right, away from the casino and the shops –”

A woman’s piercing scream, shrill and desperate, interrupted him.

“Lords of Space, now what?” Mara clutched at Gianna and stared in the direction of the sound, coming from the casino area.

“Damn, I wish I had my blaster.” Nick checked with Khevan, who shrugged.

“I’ll follow your lead,” the Brother assured him. “You decide.”

There wasn’t any other decision he could make. Nick gave orders quickly to Mara. “You and the children wait here. We’re going to check it out, see what’s happening. If anyone comes, or something else happens, get yourself and the children into the grav lift. There aren’t going to be too many people left on board who can follow you in there, since it appears the crew has abandoned ship. Should be safe. Or as safe as anything on this miserable hulk, now. Okay?”

Eyes wide, face pale, she bit her lower lip and nodded.

“Good.” Nick took a step in the direction of the casino and the renewed sounds of a woman in dire distress. “If Khevan and I can do anything about the situation, we will. Give us five minutes. If we aren’t back by then, start for the Control Level access. We’ll catch up.”

In action mode, he was three long strides away, Khevan at his shoulder, when the sound of Mara’s voice stopped him.

“Nick –”

Glancing at her over his shoulder, he shook his head. “We can’t walk away without trying to help,” he said.
I’m
surprised she’d object
.

“I was only going to say be careful, both of you.” Mara was annoyed, her displeasure clear in her tone of voice.

“Sorry.” Nick stepped back, reached out to touch her left arm gently, by way of apology for misjudging her. Rewarded with a small upward quirk of her lips, he and Khevan moved out again, going toward the casino.

As Nick crept silently down the corridor, he could hear the sound of breaking glass and men’s loud voices raised in a drunken quarrel. In the lead, Khevan right behind, he proceeded through the last few yards of curving corridor in a cautious crouch. Taking cover behind a bountiful arrangement of synthetic plants, Nick peered around the edge of the ornate, blue-glazed planter.

One woman lay dead or dying just beyond the casino entrance, her body contorted, dress ripped and stained, blood pooling beside her head.

 
Standing in a half circle near the entrance to the casino were seven men. Several were swaying, having already had too much to drink by the signs of it, whether before the disaster struck the
Dream
, or after. Empty, broken bottles, looted from the casino’s bars, littered the deck. Falling to his knees as Nick watched from concealment, one man threw up and collapsed, moaning. The rest of the unsavory group’s attention was focused on the woman standing against the opposite wall, trying to face them down without much success.

“Come on, babe, we all know you’re a damn Socialite, so why not party with us?” one of the drunks said, taking a step toward the girl.

“Yeah, we can party as nicely as your ‘Lite pals,” boasted another, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Probably better, in fact. We ain’t spoiled Inner Sector boys.”

Nodding, several of his companions murmured profane agreement.

“You don’t want to do this,” the woman pleaded quietly, with dignity, although her voice shook. “Please, let me go, let me find my friends.”

“Hey, Socialites are supposed to crave new experiences,” one of the drunken thugs reminded her with a leer. He stared at the group. “Well, you can have seven different experiences, right here, right now, babe. No cover charge, no minimum.”

Their quarry slid away, making scant progress, taking slow, cautious steps toward an all-out bolt for freedom. “Please, I’m begging you, leave me alone.”

Nick realized the woman in jeopardy was Twilka Something or Other, who had been on his shuttle and on the beach the morning he’d rescued young Gianna.
How in the Seven Hells did she end up here, by herself, easy prey for these drunken, would-be rapists? Why wasn’t she with the rest of her crowd, wherever they might be?
These men – intoxicated or not – might have thought twice about accosting an entire group of fellow passengers.

“Sorry, can’t oblige you, babe.” The first man made a lunging grab. “You might tell someone what we was doing here, drinking, helping ourselves to what we want. Don’t need trouble.”

Screaming, Twilka tried to make a run for freedom, but the man was too quick for her, his reflexes sharp even in a drunken state. He caught her by one wrist, swinging her to face him.

She slapped him as hard as she could, a good resounding blow, but the momentary pain couldn’t break his grip on her, only made him angry. “Oh yeah, we can play rough, too, if you ‘Lites prefer,” he jeered, throwing aside the bottle in his other hand. “Enough small talk,” he grunted, grabbing her by her cap of short, shiny black hair and tugging her toward the other men, who were watching and catcalling.

“Hold her for me, and then when I’m done, you can each have a turn,” said Twilka’s captor. Planting a big, wet kiss on the girl’s averted face, he fumbled at her breasts. Two men came forward, laughing uproariously, and grabbed at her arms, preparing to force her to the deck.

Nick checked Khevan’s reaction. The D’nvannae’s face was set and grim.

“The Lady doesn’t appreciate gang rape and wanton murder,” Khevan whispered.

“Neither do I.” Keeping his voice low, Nick shook his head. “I recognize the girl – she was on our shuttle from Glideon, remember? She’s part of the Socialite crowd. I recognize one of those lowlifes, too. He’s the junior attendant at the gym on Level Four.” Nick remembered Easton’s desire to mingle with the Socialites.
A desire for social climbing is a far cry from what the guy’s about to participate in now
.

Quickly, Khevan reconnoitered again, over Nick’s shoulder. “Yes, I recognize them both. Have you a plan? We can’t simply charge them. She’ll get hurt before we can handle them all. The men are drunk enough to be stupid and fight.” Khevan’s assessment was contemptuous but realistic. “Frightened men are like dogs in a pack, finding courage in each other.”

“Yeah.” Nick was in agreement. “Okay, we go in openly, casual, like we want to join them – the gym rat will recognize me. And you, I guess?”
 

Khevan nodded. “It may buy us a precious minute of time.”

“No use wishing for a blaster.” Nick was rueful.
The whole thing would be over already if I’d had my service weapon.
“Less sophisticated methods should work here. Grab a bottle, smash it across someone’s head when we get close enough, and lay into the others. I’ll do the same for the thugs holding the girl, then I’ll grab her and we’ll run for it, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” Khevan stood, taking care to remain screened by the lush foliage of the plants. He stretched, loosening up for action, rolling his shoulders, flexing his fingers. “Lead on.”

Nick straightened out of his own crouch, stepping away from the planter. The gang of would-be rapists had their backs to him as he strolled down the center of the corridor toward the group, the Brother on his heels. Nick whistled a tune slightly off-key. At the sound, the men lurched to stare, expressions ranging from surprise to hostile wariness, depending on their level of intoxication.

Nick smelled them, a mixture of liquor and acrid sweat, the girl’s expensive, tangy perfume an incongruous note in the medley.
 

Midnight-blue dress hiked up above her waist, Twilka was stretched out on the carpet. She was struggling wildly against the two men holding her. Kneeling between her legs, the first drunk was one-handedly fumbling with the closure on his trousers and clawing at her white silk undergarments with his other hand.

“Help me.” The girl begged piteously, catching sight of the newcomers. “Please, please, help me.”

“You’re doing fine on your own, sweetheart.” Nick slurred his words a bit. He ignored the shocked expression of terror crossing her face, which chased away the first glimmer of hope she’d obviously felt at their timely arrival.

“Don’t let them do this,” Twilka cried, her voice breaking in a sob of terror and pain. “What kind of people are you?”

Nick caught the eye of the attendant from the gym. “Hey, Easton, can anyone join in this party?”

“You know these guys?” asked the ringleader, the man who had first captured Twilka, checking suspiciously with Easton.

“Yeah, I guess. They’re okay. Not big tippers, though,” the SMT employee said drunkenly, peering at Nick. He was pretty out of it, sitting on the floor now, swigging brandy like water. “Why not let them get in line? We’re all going to die when this damn, cursed ship blows up anyway.”

“I like your philosophy.” Nick kept a big fatuous smile on his face. “Share and share alike.” Pausing in his leisurely advance, he leaned over and grabbed a pair of unbroached bottles.
Taychelle vodka
, he noted in passing as he handed one to Khevan, who made a show of nearly dropping it.

“Always wondered what it’d be like to fuck a Socialite.” Khevan licked his lips lasciviously as he uncorked the vodka.

“Go find your own woman,” said the inebriated ringleader, turning his attention to the weeping Twilka. “You weren’t invited to this party – it’s private. Probably a lot of other females left on board, someplace else.”