A Galaxy Unknown (17 page)

The tugs ahead of them had a specific destination and Gunny Rondell followed along, then stood off and watched as first one, then the other, attached their cargo link-section to rows of others in an area that already contained thousands. The other tugs left as soon as they had separated from their container sections, permitting Gunny Rondell to back the link-section against another with the same Lewiston locking system and engage the locking hubs. Once it was secured in place, he released the tug.

"Gunny, as innocently as possible, fly around the entire center of this thing. I'd like the cameras to get a good look at this place and every ship in here so we can identify them all later if they show up in lawful ports."

"Will do, Captain."

New tugs continued to arrive at the base with pieces of ships from the Nordakian battle site. As they were brought in, they were delivered to an area apparently dedicated to salvage operations. Hundreds of workers in E.V.A. suits swarmed aboard the new salvage and began cutting up the damaged ships after they had removed anything of value. Thousands of small ‘assist' bots zipped around ferrying the materials to storage locations. In some places the Raiders were rebuilding damaged fighters and ships, but the latest fighting had left the salvaged ships beyond hope of repair, and the fighters that weren't in pieces were almost as bad. Rondell used the industrious activity to screen their movements, as he flew the small craft to every section in the enormous asteroid port.

Jenetta's eyes widened appreciably when they rounded the stern of an enormous passenger ship and found two, brand new GSC battleships floating side by side at adjoining airlock piers. At nineteen-hundred-seventy-meters in length and with a beam of two-hundred-ninety-two-meters, the sleek, powerful looking battleships were the largest GSC warships Jenetta had ever seen. She was sure the identical vessels must each mass close to a million tons. The natural bright-bronze coloration of their tritanium skin glistened through a clear, stealth material coating in the dim lighting of the cavern.

While the ship designers had strictly followed the rule of practicality first, esthetics second, the ships had bold, clean lines. There was naturally no need for aerodynamic shaping since it was unlikely that either ship would ever enter the atmosphere of any planet, but the requirements of stealth capability insured that the ships have certain streamlined characteristics. The special stealth material that covered every exposed plate of the massive ship would make it appear no larger than a shuttle on DeTect screens, and the styling ensured that the effectiveness of radar and lidar detection equipment was suitably diminished.

Closed hatches, no doubt concealing torpedo tubes and energy weapons, were visible on the sides and stern. The three even rows of oversized hatches that lined each side of the massive vessel had to be covering phased laser arrays. Jenetta counted forty-three on the larboard side alone, so assuming an equal number on the starboard side, and adding topside, bow, and keel arrays, the total had to be in the neighborhood of one-hundred-twelve of the deadly weapons. While still at the Academy, she'd overheard two officers discussing the development effort for a hundred-gigawatt array, and the hurdles that faced the Weapons Research & Development Section working to make it a reality. The major problem at that time was the same one always encountered in laser weapon development, the dissipation of excess heat. She assumed that by now they had successfully completed the R&D work and put the weapon into production in time for inclusion in this ship's armament. Although energy weapons were principally intended for defense against torpedoes, a hundred-gigawatt laser would add a new dimension to offensive efforts. The thickness and composition of the hull armor on an enemy ship would naturally be the final determining factor in the ability of the beam to punch through quickly, but she assumed that the battleship would make mincemeat of most anything that came under its weapons.

Since the ships were docked bow in, the number of bow torpedo tubes couldn't be ascertained, but Jenetta estimated them to be in the range of between fourteen and twenty, giving the ship a total of between forty-two and forty-eight tubes. With a reload time of fifteen seconds, the firing rate had to be prodigious. If any battleships ever deserved the title of dreadnaught, it was these. Few enemy ships would survive for long once they began to take incoming fire from these battleships. The fact that the Raiders had somehow acquired them frightened Jenetta more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

"What do you suppose they're doing here, Captain?" Gunny said.

"I don't know, but there's not a mark on them so they weren't taken in battle. They already have all their exterior markings, so I would guess that the Raiders seized them from a shipyard just before the ships were to be turned over to the GSC. They'd
never
have gotten them away from a base once they were manned. I sure wouldn't want to go into battle against them." Sighing lightly, she added, "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

Perhaps only a military person would view battleships as ‘beautiful.' They did have pleasing lines, for a battleship, but the overall appearance would still have to be described as ‘somewhat boxy' when compared to the sleek styling of a fighter craft that had with certain aerodynamic requirements for atmospheric operations.

"Aye, Captain. Perhaps some day you'll command one like them?"

Jenetta sighed again, knowing that she'd be extremely lucky to ever serve in even a minor staff position aboard a light destroyer once she got back to Space Command. Her only response to Rondell's comment was, "It's nice to dream about."

As the three infiltrators finished their filming, and turned to leave, they were confronted by several small security patrol ships. When a message came over the com demanding their assignment number and supervisor contact, Gunny punched the throttle and zipped behind a large passenger cruiser. The security ships immediately began close pursuit. Intending to head for the asteroid opening, the three sleuths were shocked to discover that it wasn't there. As they had been working to record the data about the ships inside the asteroid, giant doors had closed over the opening, effectively cutting off their escape route.

Gunny took the tug on a crazy tour around ships, cargo container farms, and junkyards, looking for another way out, but there didn't seem to be any other openings.

"It looks like we're trapped, Captain."

"I think you're right, Gunny. There doesn't seem to be any way out. I'm sorry for getting you and Browne into this."

Gunny chuckled. "I wouldn't have missed this party for anything, ma'am. What do we do, surrender?"

"Let's play our hole card and blow the Corplastizine. Maybe an opportunity will present itself."

As Gunny triggered the device, a crushing blast crashed into the tug and the interior of the small ship glowed momentarily with a bright blue light. The infiltrators awoke a minute later, dazed and aching. If they hadn't been strapped into their seats, they would surely have been flung about the cabin.

"That was some blast, Gunny," Jenetta said, rubbing her forehead where it had impacted with the viewing monitor for her seat. "I thought we were too far away to be affected. Let's see if we can find a way out in the confusion."

"That wasn't our blast, Captain. We were hit by something. All power is gone and we seem to be drifting toward an open maintenance bay."

The monitor she'd been watching was dead. Jenetta was required to release her seat belt so she could stand up to see out the forward windows. "I don't think we're drifting. I think that we're being guided in, probably by another tug."

Gunny Rondell unbuckled his own seatbelt and floated free of his seat. Without power, the gravity plating on the deck couldn't maintain the one g field. Pushing off from his seat, he swam to the back of the cabin where he opened a cabinet and removed two laser pistols. After a quick examination, he said, "Both pistols are dead. Whatever they used, it drained every bit of energy on board. Even my chrono-patch has stopped functioning."

The tug rocked slightly as it settled to the decking in the bay when the bay's gravity field was reestablished. Everything in suspension in the tug suddenly dropped to the deck, including Rondell, who grumbled a curse as he picked himself up. A slight vibration in the ship indicated that the bay's entrance door was closing. They knew that the next steps would be to pressurize the bay and then assault the tug.

"I may not have a pistol," Gunny said, "but I'm not giving up without a fight." Taking a large spanner from the tool closet, he stood behind the hatchway door with the wrench held over his head.

It was several minutes before they heard the torch cutting through the hatch lock. As the door started to move, Gunny tensed with the spanner while Browne stood opposite with a hammer. Jenetta crouched down on the pilot's chair as the door was pushed open a dozen centimeters. But instead of immediately entering the tug, the Raider security forces tossed in a stun grenade. The first Raider to enter the tug found three unconscious bodies.

Chapter Fourteen

~ July 20
^th
, 2267 ~

‘
It could be worse
,' Jenetta thought. Her head throbbed incessantly and her mouth was as dry as cotton, but she was still alive— at least her mind was telling her she was, in direct contradiction to the way she felt. ‘
No
,' she decided, ‘
I'm definitely alive. No one who'd died could feel as god awful as I do right now
.'

The small room in which she'd found herself was dark, but there was little doubt it was a jail cell. A three-centimeter wide band, glowing dimly near the ceiling, circled the entire room. Like a night light, it only provided sufficient illumination to discern the outline of objects in the cell. Sluggishly swinging her legs over the edge of the wall-mounted cot, she labored to stand. The room tipped and rocked as she pushed herself upright, but her equilibrium returned slowly and her head started to clear as she stood on wobbly legs. Until then she hadn't realized that except for her underwear, she was naked!

Full consciousness also brought awareness of the wide, flat bracelets on each wrist and ankle. Similar bands hugged her waist and neck. Her first reaction was an attempt at removal of the thick composite bands, but they were solid and hardly flexed when she tugged on them. Although not loose, they thankfully didn't pinch. They actually seemed custom made because of their precise fit. Without knowledge of how the apparently seamless bands had been affixed, she had no idea of how to remove them.

The three-meter by four-meter room contained only the cot and a single-piece stainless steel toilet, also mounted in suspended fashion on a wall. Jenetta moved to the solid door and pounded on it with her fists, but the sound failed to produce any response, and sore hands were the only reward for her efforts. Returning to the cot, she plopped down onto the thin mattress in disgust, disgust with herself. She knew that she'd recklessly endangered their lives by insisting that they continue on to the Raider base to verify the location and gather more information. Her only hope was that Gunny and Browne were still alive and unharmed. Lying back down on the miserable excuse for a mattress, she tossed and turned for a while, but eventually drifted off to sleep.

Awakened hours later by a sound that she could only describe as a soft ‘bong,' she wondered if there had been more than the six she recalled hearing. Illumination in the cell increased considerably after the last bong, so she deduced that it must be some kind of wake-up call. Sitting on the edge of the bare mattress, waiting for someone, anyone, to come to the cell, she wished that she had a blanket, towel, or anything with which to cover herself, but she knew from her psychology training that nudity, and semi-nudity, was one of the procedures used to break down a prisoner's resistance. For women especially, the near total lack of clothing in a hostile environment makes them feel more vulnerable.

It seemed forever, but it was actually only about twenty minutes before a small viewing port in the otherwise solid metal-alloy door, slid open to reveal a pair of squinty eyes. A gravelly, disembodied voice said loudly, "Prisoner, stand on the large black circle two-meters in front of the door."

Jenetta glanced down and saw a painted circle, a half-meter in diameter, which she hadn't spotted in the near-darkness. She stood up and stepped onto the blackened area, facing the door.

"Put your feet together, touch your wristbands to the belt around your waist, and hold them there," the voice instructed.

Shifting her weight, she brought her feet together. She lifted her arms and heard a soft metallic click as the bands on her wrists touched the waistband. A human hand, holding a small remote control device, appeared briefly at the window slot and she felt her ankles pulled together at the same time that her wrists were pulled tighter against her waist. She immediately realized that what appeared to be simple bracelets were in fact some form of electromagnetic prisoner restraints. As the hand disappeared, the eyes appeared at the slot again. Satisfied that Jenetta was secure, the guard unlocked the cell door and pushed it open, then carried in a covered food tray that he set on the floor just beyond the swing arc of the meter-wide door.

A large, aquiline nose that protruded prominently from a minacious face only a mother could love, preceded the five-foot ten-inch guard into the cell. Two days of brown beard growth surrounded a mouth shaped in a permanent sneer. As he straightened up, he said testily, "Okay, here's the drill, doll. You get fed twice a day. Ten bongs precede each meal so you can get ready. You must be standing on the circle when the guard looks in, or you get shocked. You don't
have
to put your feet together or your wrists against the belt, if you don't want to, but they'll wind up there anyway. This way you don't get hurt when the EM field kicks in. I saw someone get their arm broken about a year ago when they tried to keep it from being pulled to the belt."

Jenetta started to say, ‘I want to see someone in charge' but only managed the first two words before the world turned inside out and landed on her. She found herself sitting on the floor as she recovered from an unexpected electrical charge that had stunned her from her toes to the top of her head. Through barely focused eyes, she could see the guard's mocking grin as he lowered the handheld controller.

"What you want has no relevance, and prisoners are not permitted to talk unless asked a direct question," he said. "Besides, I always like to get the first shock out of the way so the prisoner knows what to expect for improper behavior. That was a level one shock. A level five leaves you dazed for more than a day, and maybe permanently. For really serious violations of the rules, such as escape attempts, the detention center supervisor can tighten your neckband enough to cut off your air, crush your windpipe, or squeeze until your head pops off your shoulders. I'll be around to collect the tray in an hour. One bong is sounded when I start collecting the trays. Get on the circle when you hear the single bong or you get a level two shock. Your next meal will be in twelve hours."

The guard turned and left, locking the cell door behind him. Dazed and recovering from the electric shock, Jenetta sat on the floor until she could focus her eyes properly again. But when she tried to put her hand down on the floor, she realized that her wrists were still attached tightly to her waistband. She uttered a few choice remarks that called into question the pedigree of her jailer as she struggled for several minutes, but she couldn't move her arms away from her waist even a fraction of a millimeter, nor pull her ankles apart. Not having eaten in almost a full day, the food aroma was so overpowering that she stopped struggling, swung her legs around to the side, and rolled over to the tray where she lifted the cover off with her mouth.

"Hmmm, today's breakfast selection is some kind of lukewarm mushy cereal, runny eggs, and watered-down tea," Jenetta muttered aloud to herself. "Well, only one way to get to the food." Jenetta positioned her face over the cereal and lowered her head until she was able to suck it up with her mouth. The entire lower part of her face became coated with milk but she was able to eat practically everything that wasn't stuck to her face. When she was finished, she rolled over to the cot and struggled for several minutes to scale the raised platform. Unable to reach the cot without damaging herself, she finally accepted the futility of the effort and simply lay on the floor next to it.

When Jenetta heard the single bong, she rolled around until her feet were on the black circle. The door slot was pulled back a short time later and the guard looked in.

"You're supposed to be
standing
on the circle, prisoner," he said.

"I can't get up."

"Why not?"

"I don't have the use of my arms or legs."

The guard looked down and saw the mess on the tray and on Jenetta's face. "Okay, I'll give you a break this time and won't shock you. I musta forgot to release you." He opened the door, removed the tray, and locked the door again. Then he aimed the controller at Jenetta and pressed a button. Instantly, she was released, and the door slot clanged noisily closed.

Her first action was to stretch her arms out, and the next was to wash her face using the water in the toilet, after having flushed it a couple of times to make sure that it was reasonably clean. With her hunger sated for the present, Jenetta sat on the cot and reviewed the situation. While not hopeless, she would be the first to admit that it was bleak. She would just have to wait until someone told her what they intended to do with her because she certainly wasn't going to risk talking to the guard again; especially since it was unlikely that he would answer her even if she managed to get the entire question out before he lit up her nervous system.

A small control panel that she hadn't noticed in the pre-breakfast darkness caught her eye as she sat on the cot. She moved to the head high, twelve-centimeter square electronic device on the wall opposite her bunk and began pushing the flat contact spots in various sequences, but none of the six had any effect that she could discern.

She spent the rest of the time until dinner pacing around the cell while chastising herself for her hubris. Three quick and decisive victories over Raider attackers had made her reckless enough to believe that she could find the Raider base and return safely with the information. She had gambled with the lives of two people who trusted her, and lost. She wasn't a great military leader. She was just somebody who had been lucky a few times. And now her luck had run out.

* * *

An hour after breakfast on her third day of captivity, a pair of eyes appeared at the door slot and a voice ordered Jenetta to stand on the circle. She complied immediately and her wrists and ankles were secured before the guard entered the cell. Once inside, he moved quickly around behind her, grabbed her hair, and savagely pulled her head back. She tried to scream, but the thick, rubber gag suddenly thrust into her mouth with practiced ease cancelled all sounds. An elastic-like band attached to the gag was stretched out and slipped over her head, then solidified in that position when the guard pressed a button on his controller. Jenetta now understood how the bands on her neck, waist, wrists and ankles seemed like they were custom made without any visible seams. The knowledge hardly seemed worth the price at the time.

Thus silenced, only Jenetta's legs were released by the guard so that she could be shoved out the door and prodded along an empty corridor lined with cell doors until they emerged from the cellblock. Jenetta found herself in a large, circular room with ten doors evenly spaced around the off-white walls. One door had no markings and one was marked ‘Head', while the others were sequentially marked ‘A' through ‘H.' Like the door to her cell, all other doors here seemed to depend upon old-fashioned hinges and locks for opening and closure. It meant that no one could manage an escape by circumventing electronic locks. You could only move around in the detention center if you had access to one of the heavy ancient keys the guards carried. Her superior computer skills would be of no use to her here.

Propelled to an empty area against the wall between doors ‘D' and ‘E', Jenetta's ankles were re-secured before her arms were released. After ordering her to raise her arms over the bar suspended above her head, with one arm on either side, the guard pressed a button on the controller that pulled her wrists together. She had foreseen what was intended so the sudden movement didn't catch her by surprise, but the next action did. The guard depressed one of two buttons on the wall and the bar rose until Jenetta was standing on the balls of her feet. As her arms began to protest the sudden distention, her guard smirked at her and released the button before taking a seat in an ‘oh-gee' chair at one of the four desks in the center of the room.

Jenetta hadn't seen this guard before, but he was cut from the same cloth as the others. About six-foot tall, and weighing roughly two-hundred twenty pounds, he had the look of someone who enjoyed inflicting pain on others. His unkempt brown hair and unshaven face complemented his rumpled uniform. It was only a few hours into the new watch and he already appeared as if he been on duty for days without a break. Like the hawk-faced guard that had shocked Jenetta with a Level-1 on the first day, his lips were curled into a permanent sneer. Jenetta nicknamed him Big Ugly.

Pulling the stun pistol from his holster, BU dropped it into a drawer of the desk before taking his seat and removing a holo-magazine cylinder from a different drawer. Twice as long as the holo-tubes used for data lists, the three-centimeter thick holo-magazine cylinders are extremely sturdy, lightweight, and offer better image resolution. Even at twenty-centimeters length, the composite-material tubes are comfortably portable, and can be updated in seconds by downloading different issues of magazines or newspapers contained in the central computer.

Placing the narrow tube on the desk in front of him, BU pressed the recessed button to activate it, and watched as a page of text and images rose up along the length of the cylinder. He twisted the end of the cylinder slowly until he found the page that he was looking for, then picked up the cylinder, leaned back in the chair, and began reading. He glanced over at Jenetta's gagged, helpless, and suspended form every few minutes.

Over the next forty-eight minutes, Jenetta's arms screamed for release as a number of security people came and went from the detention center, most taking time to ogle her body with lust-filled eyes. Jenetta visually ascertained that the doors with the letters were cellblocks, and the unmarked door was the entryway to the center. A chronometer on the wall maddeningly ticked off the seconds, and confirmed that she'd been in the detention center for three days.

When a giant of a man dressed in the white clothes of a medical attendant and smelling of antiseptic entered the center pushing an ‘oh-gee' chair, BU jumped up and glowered at him. There was no mistaking the acrimony in his voice as he said, "It's about damn time you got here. I got a call telling me to prepare her almost an hour ago. I can't even go to the can when one of my prisoners is in the anteroom."