A Taste Of Despair (The Humal Sequence) (8 page)

There were mutterings and curses from the assembled onlookers.

“Shocking, I know.” Walsh continued. “But that’s the reality of the situation. By contrast the Humals kept us busy for at least a year.”

“If it’s so easy, why not do it, then?” Klane asked.

Walsh smiled. “As I said, until we learn what happened in the war against the Humals, we’re hedging our bets.”

“Afraid you lost the war to the Humals? Is that it?” Hamilton suggested. “Afraid they might come back and finish the job if they found out you were active again?”

It wasn’t much, but there was the slightest hesitation in Walsh’s answer. “A prudent individual always uses caution. The war ended. We all know that. How it ended is another matter. If we had wiped the Humals out then we, not you, would now be the dominant species in this part of the galaxy. Conversely, if the Humals won, why has nearly all trace of them vanished? Surely they would have gone on to greatness? It’s a mystery. Until it’s solved, I will exercise caution. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to have your entire civilization destroyed at this time?”

Silence again.

“I thought not.”

“So, anyway.” Hamilton said at length. “Apart from catching up for old time’s sake, why bother talking to us? You could just have us exterminated. What’s your game this time?”

Walsh’s smile deepened. “No game. I was just curious as to why you hadn’t said anything to the authorities. About why you tried to sneak in quietly.”

“So what happens now?”

“Now? Why now I continue my business and you go about whatever it is you think you should be doing.”

“Just like that?” Hamilton’s tone was skeptical.

“Well, not quite.” Walsh admitted. “You see, if I have you all killed there’ll be questions. If I just let you go then you’ll no doubt come up with some ridiculous concept for tracking me down and cause trouble. I’m a very busy man. I can’t be wondering what you are doing every second of the day. Since I can’t dispose of you and I can’t let you go, I have taken steps to make sure you won’t be causing any mischief for a very long time.”

“And what steps might those be?” Hamilton frowned. Now they were getting down to it.

Walsh smiled and reached out of shot to retrieve a data-pane. The thin plastic sheet was alive with images and words. Walsh held it up in front of the camera at his end.

Hamilton looked at the data scrolling across the pane. It was his history and service record.

“Very impressive reading.” Walsh told him.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Walsh grinned. “Actually, I’m being facetious. It’s dull and boring, like all your species. But I think I can make it a bit more impressive for you.” He made a wizard like spell-casting gesture at the pane and then examined it happily. “There! Much better, don’t you think?”

Walsh turned the panel to the screen and Hamilton felt a chill run down his spine. There was now a flashing red ‘Warning’ alert at the top of his record. He read it with a certain amount of resignation.

“What do you think?” Walsh asked.

“It’ll never stick.” Rames told him. “Personnel data files have secure backups. There are comparative systems in place to detect obvious tampering like that.”

Walsh smiled. “Possibly you are forgetting what we are? Data can be changed, systems re-written. I promise you, only those that know you personally will question this revelation. If they create too many waves, well, accidents happen. Or maybe it will turn out that they, too, are members of the Righteous Flame terrorist cult, like Mr. Hamilton here.”

“So that’s your answer?” Hamilton said. “To have us all locked up as criminals?”

Walsh shrugged. “Pretty much. You’ll be out of the way, I’ll be happy. It’s a win-win situation.”

“You’re all heart.” Hamilton muttered.

“I know! It will take time for the information to propagate out to Tantalus Station from where I am. Once it does, the local authorities will deal with you. Nice of you to place yourself in quarantine, though. That makes it so much easier for them to round you all up!”

Hamilton gritted his teeth. “How long do we have?”

Walsh shrugged again. “Who knows? Your StellarNet is so sluggish, even for critical alerts like this. Too many jumps along the way. A half-hour maybe?”

Half an hour. Hamilton glanced at Rames, who nodded and disappeared.

“Thirty minutes isn’t very long. You could have given us a few hours.” Hamilton told Walsh.

“Oh no! I couldn’t!” Walsh protested. “That’s far too long for someone as clever – for a human – as you. You’d be up to no end of tricks. Better it’s all over quickly, don’t you think?”

“What about this?” Hamilton tapped the screen of the communicator. “This isn’t standard issue. Something you whipped up, I imagine. This, plus our story, could cause you embarrassment.”

Walsh’s smugness reappeared. “You really must stop thinking that I leave loose ends. The comms unit will degrade into a pile of dust – a dust-pile that contains traces of bio-agent material – and no one will believe the word of known terrorists. Especially terrorists whose cult believes in ‘aliens among us’! The courier that delivered the package will be found dead. It will be presumed that your fellow cult members tried to smuggle a bio-agent in to you so that you could perform some atrocity. The data trail for the package has been obviously faked, so it all looks like a nasty incident, narrowly avoided. All very tragic.”

“You forget that our records will have been scrutinized over the last few days since we arrived here. The sudden changes will be noticed.” Hamilton pointed out.

Walsh shrugged. “So what? Your questioners have their own hidden agenda. Or did you not pick up on that? When this alert comes through, they’ll distance themselves from you and be the first to sign the local arrest warrants. They won’t want any spotlight focusing on them, or the
Morebaeus
.”

“I did pick up on that, thank you. Something about the cargo?” Hamilton wondered.

Walsh nodded. “Yes. I think someone shipped something out on that ship that shouldn’t have been on there. No doubt it’s all terribly important to your kind, but irrelevant in the grander scheme of things. Either way, they don’t want to be connected to it, so they’ll sell you down the river – all of you – rather sharply.”

“Then I guess we have nothing more to say to each other.” Hamilton growled.

“Not really. But rest assured that some day, when I’ve found the answers I’m looking for, I’ll come visit you in whatever prison they put you in. That’s assuming they don’t just shoot you!” Walsh looked at Hamilton’s data-pane, then turned a surprised face to the screen. “Phew! You are one nasty piece of work now! I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley!”

“Why don’t you hold that thought!” Hamilton snarled and slammed the screen down, deactivating the contact. Almost at once, the unit began to give off a vile odor then, slowly, it started to crumble before their very eyes. In less than a minute, it was exactly what Walsh had promised it would be. A pile of dust.

“Great. Now what?” Klane muttered.

“Now,” Hamilton stated. “We get out of here. Walsh has us flagged as dangerous criminals, so we might as well bust out of here.”

“Easier said, than done.” Jones chimed in.

Rames reappeared from out of the corridor leading to the personal compartments.

“All done?” Hamilton inquired.

Rames nodded. “Everything is in hand. I suggest we get ourselves ready.”

“Alright! You and your men guard the main entrance as best you can. Klane and the rest of my lot, stay with them and help. Jones, you’re with me!” Hamilton ordered.

CHAPTER FIVE

Before anyone could object, or ask annoying questions, Hamilton was up and heading back down the corridor to the door leading to the medical area of Q-section. Jones ran right behind him.

At the door, Hamilton pointed at the control panel. “Get this door open!”

In theory, the door couldn’t be opened from this side. Leaving the medical quarantine area for the more general quarantine section was supposed to be a one-way trip. However, if the door wasn’t supposed to open from this side, then why did it have a control panel?

Jones bent down and examined the panel. “I hope you know what you’re doing!” He muttered under his breath.

Hamilton grinned. “When have I ever let you down?”

Not looking up from his inspection, Jones scowled. “You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?”

“Probably not. What about the door? Is it openable?”

Jones grinned and pulled out one of the canteen’s metal knives. “I think I can work with this. It may take a bit, though. I’m not used to working with such primitive tools.”

Hamilton actually laughed then. “Says the man who made a jammer out of broken terminal parts!”

Jones grinned. “I am that good!”

“The sooner you get it open, the quicker we’ll be out of here.”

“Why am I opening it? Just out of curiosity, you understand.” Jones asked.

“The medical section is where we entered the station. You and the others were all still in your cryo tubes. They ferried them here from the
Morebaeus
down at the docking ring. The medical section has a large airlock. It’s our way out.”

Without pausing as he pried the panel off below the controls, Jones said. “Won’t we need a ship? You can’t think of making a run for it in a spacesuit?”

“No, of course not! Rames’ marines are still on board the
Ulysses
. They opted to stay aboard under quarantine there, rather than come here for testing. Apparently there’s some Imperial regulation that allows for that which they quoted at the investigators. One of them apparently did some flight training before opting for the life of a gun-toting grunt. He’ll bring the
Ulysses
here.”

Jones looked round in surprise. “A Marine? A grunt is going to fly a ship up here?”

Hamilton shrugged. “Rames said he was up to the task.”

Jones returned to his task. He had the panel off and was teasing wires and fiber optic cables out of the conduit behind. “A Marine is going to fly a spaceship. This is what I have to put my faith in? A grunt with a joystick. What could possibly go wrong?”

Hamilton snorted. “It’s that or go straight to prison for the rest of your life.”

“Aha!” Jones exclaimed. He pulled a couple of wires free of the circuitry to which they were attached. “That’s the safeties.” Then a couple more were ripped free. “That’s the locking mechanism.” He touched those together and the door gave a clunk. He reached in and pulled another set free. “And these are the motor power lines.” He touched those together and the door slid open obediently.

Hamilton ran through at once into the small reception area. The officious clerk was not there. Hamilton assumed he was only present when someone was about to be released. He crossed to the windows and looked out.

The
Morebaeus
was still docked at the far end of the docking arm, exactly where it had been several days ago when he’d last had the opportunity to look outside. Next to it, the tiny ship that was the
Ulysses
had ignited its drives and was pulling clear of the dock. Hamilton winced as he saw the docking gantry and service umbilicals were still attached. The gantry broke free first, sending glittering shards of metal and plastic dancing through space. Then the umbilicals drew taught then pulled free of the ship. Unlike the gantry, the designer had thought about stupid pilots. They pulled free without damage to either themselves or the ship.

Maybe Jones was right to be concerned
. Hamilton thought.
Too late to worry about it now.

He turned back to Jones, who had remained by the jury-rigged door. “Go get the others, we’re leaving soon.”

Jones nodded and disappeared, leaving Hamilton alone in the room, looking after him. It was then that Hamilton noticed the pulsing red light by the door panel.

Tell-tale
. He thought.
I
should expect company soon.

He moved over to the door leading to the medical area. Just as he took up a position alongside it the door opened and the officious looking clerk strode in, accompanied by two guards, or orderlies, wielding stun batons.

Their attention automatically moved to the right as they entered, staring at the open doorway to Q-section. Hamilton, standing to the other side of the door, went unnoticed.

He stepped forward, grabbed the baton arm of the nearest guard and punched hard into the man’s left temple with his other hand. The man collapsed without fully realizing what was going on. Hamilton kept a hold on the unconscious man’s wrist as he fell. When the second guard turned to see what had happened, Hamilton jabbed at him with the baton, striking him in the solar plexus. The unconscious guard’s baton was not activated, fortunately for the other man, but the blow doubled him up anyway. Hamilton dropped the guard he held and finished off the second man with a knee to the face.

The clerk had only just completed turning round by the time it was all over. He stared in surprise and fear at Hamilton.

“Remember me?” Hamilton grinned, grabbing the frightened man by the collar. “You’re going to help me a little bit.”

By the time Jones arrived with the rest of the crew the clerk had, under duress, deactivated the tell-tale and called back to the medical section to tell them it was a false alarm. Hamilton removed the man’s pass card and then thrust the little man at Carl.

“Keep hold of him. He might come in useful.” Hamilton told the Enjun. If the clerk had been afraid of Hamilton, the big Enjun positively terrified him.

Klane picked up the shock batons and passed one to Rames and the other to Grimes.

“Don’t you want one?” Grimes asked.

She shook her head. “Nah. Never liked ‘em much. They’re the refuge of people who don’t know how to do hand-to-hand combat. Not my style.”

“Well, thanks.” Grimes said, not certain whether he was being insulted or not.

Hamilton turned away from the conversation to hide his smile. Klane was trained in hand-to-hand combat, it was true. However, since she had acquired her cybernetic limbs her idea of physical combat involved more foot-to-face than hand-to-hand.

He glanced around. “Is everyone here? Wait. Where’s Johnson?”

The others looked around themselves, as if expecting to see her when Hamilton could not.

“I think she was with us in the lounge area.” Charlton answered, frowning.

Hamilton sighed. Nothing ever went smoothly. “Okay. Klane, Rames. Lead everyone on through the medical area. Aim for the airlock on the other side. I’ll go find Johnson and meet you there.” He handed the clerk’s pass-card to Jones. “You might find this useful.”

Rames and Klane nodded and began herding the others towards the long corridor that led to the medical section. Hamilton turned and went back through the door Jones had opened.

Johnson was not in the lounge area, nor did she appear to be in any of the facilities areas such as the gym, which left only the accommodation compartments. Hamilton went down the corridor, banging on each door heavily and calling out her name. The vocalization was, he knew pointless, since all the personal accommodations were soundproofed, but it made him feel like he was doing something helpful, regardless.

He’d nearly gotten to the end of the corridor when he heard the near-silent swish of a door opening somewhere behind him. Turning, he saw a bleary-eyed Johnson peering at him confusedly.

“What’s going on?” She asked sleepily.

“We’re leaving.” He told her, walking back down the corridor towards her.

“Leaving? What?”

“You weren’t in the lounge at all, were you?” Hamilton asked rhetorically as he reached her.

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t feel so good, so I went back to bed.”

“Okay. Well, to summarize then. We all need to get out of here or we’ll end up in prison someplace.”

“Prison? I don’t understand.” She frowned.

Hamilton nodded. “I know, but there’s no time to explain now. We have to get going. Grab whatever you need and let’s go!”

She nodded, looking a little fearful and disappeared for a moment back into her room. In less than a minute she was back.

“That was quick.” He noted.

She smiled. “Only had to put my shoes on.”

“Okay. Follow me.”

Hamilton led the way back to the reception room.

*****

In the meantime, Klane had led the others along the corridor to the door that opened into the medical section. Jones was working on the door – neither the pass card, nor the clerk himself seemed able to open it, much to Klane’s irritation.

“Perhaps they’re on to us already?” Grimes suggested.

“I suspect there’d be more alarms if that was the case.” Rames answered him.

Jones had the panel off and was diligently pulling out wires and twisting other ones together.

“Hurry it up, Jones!” Klane told him. “We don’t have all day!”

“I’m doing it as fast as I can!” He scowled back at her. “This isn’t just a standard door. It’s a security door. It takes longer.”

“Oh crap!” The voice came from somewhere to the rear of the group. Everyone turned to see who had spoken.

It was Veltin. The pilot stood at one of the windows lining the corridor that looked out over the exterior of the station down as far as the berthing ring.

“What’s up with you?” Puckett muttered. The two men rarely saw eye-to-eye.

Veltin gestured out the window. “Look and see for yourself.”

Puckett walked up beside the other man and looked out. The rest crowded round as well.

The view of space was impressive, as was the bulk of the station spread out below them. Against that backdrop, the
Ulysses
seemed to crawl upwards towards them with a snail-like velocity.

It took Puckett only a few moments to understand what the other pilot was going on about. “Oh crap!” He echoed.

“What!” Klane prodded Veltin.

The pilot turned to her. “Whoever’s flying that thing doesn’t really have a firm grasp of the laws of momentum.”

“What does that mean?!” She glared at him.

“It means,” Puckett answered. “That whoever is piloting that ship is paying more attention to getting here quickly and less about being at a dead stop when they arrive!”

Klane glanced back out the window. The
Ulysses
was still heading towards them, seemingly at a sedate pace. “It’s going to hit the station?”