Chapter Six –
Giuseppe’s goons led them to an empty storage module.
“Empty your pockets.” The mook prodded Putty with the butt of his electri-blaster.
Flynn and Chadrick didn’t have pants pockets, and so they were spared the search after a brief pat down. They ignored the notebook and pen Chadrick had in his breast pocket.
Putty was not so lucky. He turned out his pockets one at a time. There were twelve total.
The guards confiscated three wrenches, twelve bolts, a cold welder and a heavy multi-tool.
They left him with sine scraps of paper and his dignity.
“How do you keep your pants up with all that in them?” Flynn stared at his brother, incredulous.
“I’m not in a mood to deal with you right now.”
Shrugging, Flynn turned back to survey the small room they’d been shoved into. The walls were lined with vacant shelves, but someone had left a table and four chairs in the center.
Putty promptly moved a chair to the far corner, kicked his feet up onto a shelf and set about ignoring them. Flynn didn't blame him. In the same position, he would have probably tried to kill someone already. He would have found himself with a hole in his skull for the trouble. His brother was handling the whole thing remarkably well. Flynn could suffer through a little silent-treatment if that was what Putty needed.
Sitting at the table, Flynn thrummed his fingers. “Do either of you have a plan for how to get us out of here? We still need to finish what we came here to do.”
Chadrick sat next to him, eyes glued on Putty. "I'm worried about him."
Flynn looked over his shoulder, then turned back to Chadrick. "He'll bounce back, and when he needs something from us, he'll ask. He's a Monroe. We're bull headed, probably to a fault, but our saving grace is the fact that we do know how to ask for help... eventually."
"Nothing about this feels right." Chadrick let out an annoyed sigh and starting to jot down chicken scratch in a notepad the guards hadn’t seen fit to take from him.
"The girl is definitely bad news." Flynn grimaced at the thought of her.
He'd stayed far away from attachments during the war. There was just nothing he could do to convince himself that falling for a girl would have been a good idea. Lack of faithfulness had never crossed his mind... it was the inability to guarantee his return that had brought on his hesitation.
Now he wondered if he hadn't saved himself a world of trouble. After all, the only women he knew when he worked with the Lazarai were the Sisters of Serbal, the religion that had consumed his twin sister and held the Lazarai rebellion together.
Chadrick cast a wary glance toward Putty before he turned to back Flynn, “I know it doesn’t make much difference, I’m sure not to Putty anyway, but she couldn’t have understood what was going on.”
“Don’t give me that. Are you saying she tripped and fell on the guy?” Flynn was not about to believe that.
“No, but you saw her eyes, the dark veins at her wrists. She was about an ounce from overdosing on mad milk.”
The drug was hallucinogenic and highly addictive. Secreted from an ugly race of creatures called the madras, Flynn had dealt with them on the Lazarai home world where they were indigenous. The influence of the drug had spread throughout the Colarium’s systems and they’d embraced it because they could tax it. But here on the moon orbiting this dusty back world planet, it was the last thing Flynn expected to have to deal with. He would have ignored it if he could.
Flynn spat the sour taste from his mouth as he remembered the drug’s effects on Kathrynn. But now was not the time to deal with those memories.
“So, she didn’t know what she was doing. So what?” Flynn had no interest in hearing Chaddrick defend Giuseppe Refuti’s sister’s blatant disrespect for his brother.
“Maybe this is part of Giuseppe’s plan. He wants to break the people who live on Sukiyaki. Make them leave because they think they’ve got nothing left worth fighting for… maybe he thinks if we leave they’ll go too, on their own.”
“That’s a stretch of logic, even for you. At this point we have to choose between two assumptions. And the facts I saw were that, for whatever reason, my brother’s fiancé was sleeping with another dude. For the moment, I’m going to have to go with her wanting to be there. She certainly didn’t look like she hated it.”
“So you’re saying she’s guilty until proven innocent?” Chadrick sniped. “She’s out of her mind on madras milk; you can hardly say she knew what she was doing.”
“How do I know she’s not a mad milk junkie to begin with? She’s a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions. When she sobers up, maybe she’ll tell us a different story. This isn’t the Colarium central court system and I’m not giving her a second chance. Even if Putty does… and if he did, she’d be held at arm’s length, or longer, until I was certain she’d never do something like this again. Even after that, I’d be waiting.”
Chadrick looked like he was going to lobby for leniency, but Flynn was not going to stand for it. He set his jaw and glared.
The doctor sat down, but not before turning toward Putty, who had probably heard every word they’d said, “When you’re that high on mad milk you’ll do just about anything and not even know you’re doing it.”
“Give it a rest, Chad. I’m here to help your friend, and I’ll do that. If I happen to shove a missile up Giuseppe Refuti’s ass in the meantime and it wipes the smug smile off his damned rat face, so much the better.” Putty stood up and walked to the table. “We are done with this conversation.”
The three men sat in silence for what seemed like hours, when the hatch door’s release wheel screeched and spun.
The grinding of the hatch lock pulled their attention away from Putty’s problem, and Flynn instinctively reached for the gun that wasn’t at his hip. With an agonizing slowness, the hatch opened, but no guard came in.
Flynn tensed, holding Chadrick back from the open portal. “It could be a trick.” His whisper was too loud in his ears.
There was a pervading, eerie feel to the silence. Only the hush of the ventilation system proved to Flynn his ears still worked.
Flynn picked up his chair as quietly as he could, and took one step forward, his boot tread making too much noise. Another step, and he saw a flicker of movement at the jamb, between the hinges. Someone was waiting for them to leave. Flynn paused, the strain of holding the chair in its awkward position sent a tingling sensation through his arms.
Why didn't they just swing in and kill them all in one quick move? Three well placed bullets and it would be over. He didn't know the answer to that particular question, but at the moment, he wasn't going to complain.
He wasn't going to play their game, either.
He relaxed, dropping the chair back to the floor and dragging it to the table without a care about the noise. He sat, leaning back as casually as he could, and stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles and then his arms.
“Flynn, what the hell are you doing?” Putty’s whisper came with a worried and accusing look.
Flynn didn’t answer as he noted the same look on Chadrick’s face, though the doctor seemed mildly amused; he wasn't doing this for their benefit.
"We're not going to play your game,” Flynn said to the empty doorway. “So you might as well come in and face us like a man."
A muffled sigh echoed in the hallway, followed by a string of what he thought were curses; he couldn't be sure. The door pulled back further and the person it had been hiding stepped forward. Flynn muttered an irritated curse as he saw their liberator couldn't face them like a man.
Seamus smiled up at them. “You guys want to get out of here, or not?”
“How in the he—ck did you get here?” Flynn looked down at the pre-teen boy and wondered whether he should clap the boy on the back or bend him over his knee for a spanking.
“It’s not that difficult to go unnoticed when you’re small
like me. Most people don’t pay any attention. So, I snuck onto the transport ship before they closed the door. I would have found you sooner, but I got a little turned around. All of these hallways look the same and I’ve yet to find a blasted map.”
“You stowed away?” Putty asked, staring at the boy as though he were some strange fungal growth on the side of a ship.
“It’s not that hard to do. And you shouldn’t be complaining. I’m saving your butts, ain’t I?” Seamus looked too pleased with himself, but now was not the time to give the boy a severe throttling.
"We do need to leave,” Putty said. “I don't know why Refuti's keeping us around, but it can't be good. I refuse to believe he's going to let us go when this is all over."
Flynn nodded. He had no doubt his brother was still nursing his wounds. He might even have been inclined to give up on life itself – Putty was overly dramatic at times, but if there was one thing he could always count on Putty for, it was stating the obvious.
"I'll want my guns.” Flynn still had his holsters, and he fidgeted with them, though he knew it looked stupid. “Or at least a gun. There are too many baddies out there waiting to get their hands on us. I'm sure the men we killed down on the planet didn't exactly endear us to these folks."
"That weasely-looking man in the monkey suit put your guns in a room five doors down." Seamus turned and hurried out into the corridor.
Flynn tried to catch him, but his hand closed around thin air.
The boy was going to get himself killed if he kept running out into the middle of enemy territory without a care for where he was going.
When Flynn caught up to him, Seamus stood in front of a hatch that looked identical to the others, save for the keypad to the left of the locking mechanism.
"I don't suppose you saw the key-code?"
"No." The boy grunted as though this failure was the end of the world, but Flynn didn't have time to worry about childish sensibilities.
"Putty, you're expertise is required."
"I'm not any good with high-falutin’ tech, and that lock is top of the line.” His face screwed up and then, it lit like a bulb. “But I don’t need to break the lock. All I have to do is break the door.”
Flynn didn’t know what to say. He looked from Putty to the solid steel door. “That doesn’t sound like it will be any easier.”
Putty rifled through his pockets, and acted as though it was some sort of saving grace when he found the scrap of paper he’d been left with in a small back pocket. He held it aloft as though it were a gift from some unknown god.
It looked like a gum wrapper. Flynn would have thrown it away. So when Putty tore it in half, licking each piece and affixing the wet paper to the hatch hinges, Flynn was concerned some part of Putty's psyche might have cracked.
"Get around the corner, quick!" Putty insisted, in a low shout.
They did as they were told, though as Flynn opened his mouth to question his brother's sanity, a fizzling pop sound came from behind them and a metallic thunk echoed through the corridors.
When Flynn peeked back around the corner, the short connecting hall was full of metal splinters. "What the hell was that?" he asked, as Seamus shot around him to survey the destruction.
"Holy Corduroy! That was amazing!" The boy rushed forward and began sifting through the shrapnel, picking up random pieces and shoving the interesting ones in his pocket.
Flynn ignored him, turning to look at his brother. "I honestly thought you were crazy for a minute there."
"It's unstick tape. You’re only supposed to use a teensy bit at a time, it's meant to blow out bolts you can't get loosened."
Flynn smiled at his brother’s babbling and picked his way toward the door.
"Seems like overkill to me." Chadrick examined the melted metal with his nose wrinkled.
"Well, it was initially used for demolition... but as you can see, it gets a bit messy."
Flynn leveled a stern glare at his brother. "If you mucked up my guns, I may have to throttle you."
Seamus tugged at the door. Letting out small grunts of irritation as it didn't budge. "Too bad it didn’t work!"
Putty patted the boy on the head and took hold of one of the half melted, half cracked holes in the hinge side of the door. "A little help? Were' going to be bending or breaking the slide bolt on the other side."
Flynn and Chadrick stepped in, Chadrick and Putty pulling, Flynn on the other side of the hinge so he could push just as soon as their pulling loosened the seal.
They heaved in three good goes before the door slid far enough away from the wall to get a good grip for pushing. In the end, they only managed to get it open half way, but when Flynn stepped inside, he knew it was worth it.
His guns sat on a shelf just to the left of the now mangled hatch. But surrounding them was Giuseppe's weapons cache.
"Grab whatever you want, or can carry. We are not coming back, and the more we take, the less they'll have when they come after us." He shoved his pistols back into his empty holsters and pulled off his jacket, dropping it to the floor and filling it with anything he thought might be useful.
"We could end this all really quick you know?" Putty said with an odd reverence, forcing Flynn to turn around.
Putty stood next to the glimmering steel casing of a ship's missile. It was already on a dolly, and Putty pulled it toward the door. "It'll fit. I'm taking it."
Flynn paused, thinking he should caution his brother... killing hundreds of people in one fell swoop was not something that made life easier. But he didn't.
Besides, he’d place a hefty bet Putty couldn’t activate the missile, much less find a use for it.
He tied up his coat, threw it over his shoulder and turned to the others. Seamus had an array of weapons strung together with his belt, and Chadrick stood uncomfortably with a stack of explosives in his arms. The detonators hung out of his pocket, strung together by their wires. Flynn gave him a quick smile and nod. The doctor could have left behind everything and Flynn wouldn’t have batted an eye. That he was willing to help said a lot.
"Let's get out of here." Flynn took point, his gun at the ready, but each corner they turned provided them with another empty hallway.
They stepped into the hanger. It was eerie. The lights were on, but no one was home. He'd expected some sort of resistance.
Two men guarded the ship’s airlock entrance. They chatted away until it was too late. The brief hint of recognition in the second one’s eyes as Flynn cold cocked him was the only indication they knew someone else was on the station.
"We'll count it as a blessing and hope our luck holds." Flynn herded everyone into an empty shuttlecraft.
Flynn pulled himself up to the cockpit, leaving his stolen weapons on a seat in the back. Flicking the controls into preflight, he hurried through the motions. The sooner they were off the moon, the better.
By the time they were ready to take off; Putty had joined him in the copilot’s chair. “Let’s go. I don’t want to set foot on this moon ever again.”
Flynn slipped from the hangar before the roof had a chance to fully open and looked around quickly for any sign of enemy ships. There was nothing on his radar. Where had they gone?
Flynn’s eyes scoured the void beyond the view-port looking for Refuti’s ships. A warning blared to his left. Snapping back toward the panels, he saw the problem.
“Why is my weapon’s panel hot?”
“Because I’m going to blow these fuckers to kingdom-come with their own missile. We’ll end this all right now.”
Flynn didn’t know the shuttle’s systems well enough to bypass his brother’s access. “Take two seconds, Putty. Think about the consequences.”
“I’ll live with it.”
The instrument panel sent out a shrill warning as Putty punched the co-pilot’s armrest. “Shit.” Putty glowered at the screen, his intense focus faltering for only a second. “I missed.”
Flynn looked through the small viewport b
eneath his feet to the falling bomb. It wasn’t going to hit the compound. No, their luck wasn’t that good. It was headed straight for one of the core fissures.
“We need to go. NOW!”
Flynn flipped the shuttle into a barrel roll and pulled the controls sharply up, steering them toward the planet’s surface. There was no time to give a warning back to the others. He simply had to hope.
Flynn heard nothing but groans and curses as his instrument panels lit up and the bomb’s shockwave threw them violently forward.
A hundred bogies flew after them. Random trajectories sent his radar into a fuzzy scramble. He dodged and wove as best he could, but he didn't have much wiggle room. The shuttle sped toward the atmosphere. They were going to hit hard.