Draconia: Fractured Dream
Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2014 8:48 pm
I'm posting a few sample chapters to my upcoming book, Draconia: Fractured Dream, due to launch December 15, 2014.
Chapter 1
THE DECK plates vibrated beneath Mark's feet as power surged in the Frontier’s warp drive. On the main viewscreen, the white streaks of warp space reverted to a starfield while, beneath his feet, the vibrations ceased. They had returned to normal space. The space less than a light-year ahead of them belonged to the Norseen Confederacy.
“We are secure from warp space,” the helmsman confirmed.
“Stand-by Alert,” Mark instructed the tactical officer. The lighting on the bridge changed to yellow as the captain turned to the chief science officer. She was turned away from him, her brunette head bent over her console. “Everything working, Kate?”
“Yes, Captain,” she answered without looking up. “Now commencing scans.”
Mark returned his attention forward. “Aurora, you have the Saratoga's patrol route?”
“Already plotted,” she replied.
Mark smiled and nodded his approval. He looked around at his command crew, all busy at their stations. He was proud of their efficiency.
The Frontier followed the patrol route. Commander Kate Greigher remained focused on her sensor readings, alert to anything that might indicate what happened to the patrol assigned this sector. Six months ago, Space Fleet Headquarters had received a report from the patrol ship about new activity coming out of Norseen space. The ship had not been heard from since, and all attempts to establish communication had failed. So, the Frontier was sent to investigate.
The next morning, Mark was summoned to the bridge. He stepped onto the operations deck and joined Kate at her station. “Found something?”
“We have,” she answered. She turned her brown eyes to him. “We've detected traces of weapons fire. No sign of debris, however.”
“Norseen?”
“I'm running the check.” Something <i>beeped</i> on the console between them. Kate worked the controls. She sighed and looked back up at him. The grim expression on her face confirmed his guess before she nodded and said, “Norseen.”
Mark sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll prepare a report for HQ.” He started back to the lift, but halted as he remembered something Kate said. He swung back to her. “Wait, you said you didn't find any debris?”
“That’s right,” she acknowledged. She bent back to the results of her most recent scan. “We'll have to run the scan through the Forensics Lab to be sure, but my guess would be ion weapons were used.”
“And there’s no sign of the ship around here?”
“None yet.” She paused in her work as realization struck. She lifted her eyes to meet his, understanding what was on his mind. That the Norseen had captured the ship and taken the crew alive, their fate something that had been seen before. “I’ll let you know if we find anything conclusive.”
Mark mumbled his approval and continued toward the lift. As he descended, his mind wandered, first recalling that war eleven years ago. The crew of the ship he first served on — including the captain — were among those brainwashed by the Norseen. His vision blurred as he remembered Jack, his old captain and friend, on the main viewscreen, his eyes hard— He shook his head to re-bury that memory.
He turned his thoughts instead to that world inhabited by those dragons. They, too, had had a bad experience with the Norseen, right around the same time he was facing-off a completely different Captain Jack Harrison. If the Norseen had indeed renewed their hostilities with Earth... If they had found out about the Union’s Treaty with those dragons from the Saratoga’s databanks... It would seem their Treaty was about to be tested.
*
“What have we got?” Captain Krabush asked. He stepped onto the circular command deck of the station orbiting the sixth moon of Dante II. The control stations were arranged along the bulkheads with a main viewscreen dominating one end of the room. A situation table occupied the center featuring a tactical display of the surrounding space. Attached to it was the command console. His executive, Commander Donner, stood there now and looked up at his entrance.
“We’ve just started picking up a ship at the edge of sensor range,” she answered. “Engine signature shows it’s one of ours.” Krabush stepped up beside her. He studied the tactical display showing a blinking blue icon of an eclipsed planet with a small, gold star representing a ship zooming away — the insignia of the Earth Union.
“We are getting a signal,” the com-officer announced.
“Put it on,” Krabush instructed.
The officer worked his console. “This is United Earth Ship Saratoga. Captain Brenden commanding,” came a voice strained with distress. “Can anyone hear me?”
Krabush signaled the com-officer to open the com-channel. “This is Captain Kostenka Krabush in charge of Starbase Dante Two. We read you, Captain Brenden. What is your status?”
“Thank God.” Brenden sighed, as if with intense relief. “We're still trying to sort it all out. Whatever happened, it has left two-thirds of my crew missing. We must dock to sort ourselves out.”
“You may certainly come in and make a report to Space Fleet Headquarters, if you wish. We will gladly assist in any repairs that you need done.”
“I can’t express my appreciation enough. We’ll be entering orbit in one hour.”
“We will be ready to receive you.”
Contact was severed. “Inform Commander Pejamuri of the situation,” Krabush told the com-officer. While Donner made the necessary arrangements, he studied the tactical readout on the table of the approaching ship. Saratoga — he recognized that name from somewhere. He turned his attention to the monitor before him and called up all the recent reports regarding a Mercury-class UES Saratoga. The most recent that came up was from 5 July 2179.
He read the report and settled into the nearby chair. The ship had gone missing while patrolling the border between the Earth Union and the Norseen Confederacy. It would seem they were finally about to learn what had happened.
“The Saratoga is on final approach,” Donner reported. “She’ll dock at Port Three in fifteen minutes.”
Krabush was just coming to his feet when an alarm pierced the air.
“Saratoga is altering course,” the operations officer said. “They’re no longer aligned with the docking port.”
Krabush looked up at the main viewscreen. Indeed, the ship was tilting off course. She was now poised to go over the station. What were they doing? “Open channel,” he ordered the com-officer.
“They are not responding.”
“Detect—” Whatever Donner had to say was lost in the following explosions that shook the bridge.
*
“Enemy transmission arrays are destroyed,” Kinslin said. Commander Slikmac, standing behind the command chair, dropped his jaw in pleasure. His tail swept in broad arcs as he basked in their first victory of their second phase. The Earth ship’s original weaponry had been replaced with Norseen equivalents that were much more efficient and much more effective. They were indeed most effective against the starbase. Slikmac took his com-link from his belt. “You may proceed, Major Vrhaiess, to the moon.”
“Acknowledged,” came the brisk reply.
*
Egan Fasunyax flew the scout ship past yet another towering, black volcano, spouting molten rock. He zipped over the burnt-red surface, rivers of cooling lava, past enormous crater fortresses. Overhead, the thick layer of yellow clouds flashed here and there. Roars of thunder penetrated the hull.
“We are nearing the coordinates,” Hilda reported from the co-pilot seat. “We should be seeing it on the horizon soon.”
Egan concentrated his eyes on the jagged line where the dark red surface of Dante II-B met the heavy yellow sky.
It wasn’t much longer before the colony finally came into view. The penal settlement had been constructed within a crater under a huge dome spanning a roughly circular area of five kilometers in diameter. The dome enveloped an Earth-like atmosphere for the inhabitants. A kilometer out from the atmospheric dome, poles rose a hundred meters into the air and were placed in a circle around the settlement at one-kilometer intervals. When activated, they would generate a large shield to protect the colony from any lava flows that might occur in its vicinity.
“Their Command Center is hailing,” Hilda announced.
“You know what to do,” Egan said. Hilda nodded and explained over the com-channel that they had been scouting for sites of a possible new settlement, and that they needed to land for re-supply. Meanwhile, Egan continued his descent toward the colony, making for the first shuttleport he located. The launch doors of the ports opened in the stone rim of the crater.
“Launch Control wants us to surrender control to them.”
“They have it,” Egan answered as he worked the appropriate controls. When an indicator blinked blue, signaling that control was locked, he turned to see Cyrus entering the cockpit, a short man sporting a balding crown and sideburns. “Everyone ready back there?”
“They are,” was the brisk response.
“We’re almost there.” Egan turned back to the main viewport. The distance between them and the opened shuttleport quickly diminished.
“I can see that,” the man replied dryly. “The sooner we can get our colleagues out of that hell, the sooner we can begin claiming what ought to be ours — under our laws, not submitting to some giant, winged beasts.” Egan nodded his agreement.
Within minutes, the launch bay swallowed their ship. Egan landed their craft on the launch deck. While the launch bay was re-pressurized with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, Egan made for the boarding hatch with Hilda and Cyrus on his heels. Their teams were waiting for him. “Cyrus, your team will stay here and guard the ship.”
The man gave a curt nodded. Hilda, monitoring a nearby readout, reported the atmosphere outside was Earth-normal and opened the hatch. Egan motioned for Hilda to follow him. “The rest of you stay aboard and out of sight until I give the signal.”
The door on the west wall opened by the time Egan and Hilda were on the launch deck, admitting an officer and two security guards.
“The launch crew will be here shortly, sir,” the officer said. “We weren’t expecting to receive any ships for some time.”
“I'm sure you weren’t,” Egan said, and he drew a concealed laser pistol. He carbonized the officer’s head and shot another bolt through the chest of one of the guards. Hilda took the other guard. He swung back toward the scout ship and waved for his people to follow him. He led them past the three bodies toward the door. He kept his eyes off the bodies. It had to be done. He had justified it to himself before the mission began. It had to be done in order for them to claim what should rightfully be theirs.
*
Dylan March switched off his laser drill and set it on the ground beside him, next to a crate filled with the raw ores he found so far that day. He straightened his back and stretched; his joints cracked. He lifted his faceplate, tore off gloves that were reddened with Hell’s dirt, and rubbed his tired eyes. He looked up and down the tunnel where he worked.
The Mines of Dante. An incarnation of Hell if he ever saw one. Granted, the moons, with all of their volcanic activity, offered a cache of valuable ores that would be used in constructing starships and starbases. But he could not believe he was here doing the mining. He’d sworn he would never get sentenced to a place like this. Hell, he’d sworn he would never get caught, period. How the hell did that happen?
As he grumbled over this, a voice echoed through the PA system. “Attention all personnel,” it demanded. “All former crew of the Private Starship Determination will gather in the main courtyard. All other personnel will vacate that location.”
Dylan wondered at the unusual command as it was repeated. The ship name was familiar enough. His last job, in fact, just before he was caught — and subsequently damned — involved that ship. And he remembered hearing some news about that ship several years back, with a crew ignoring an order from a couple of Space Fleet ships. It was no business of his, so he’d paid it little attention.
Why would the colony’s authorities want them all alone in one area? The Earth Union was not in the habit of executing its criminals except in special cases. Even if it was, it would not make the least bit of sense now, years after the offense that put them there. Perhaps they were being released. Or, it could just be a big gathering to dispense congratulations and encouragement on fine work to date — but why kick all other personnel out of the courtyard? A group of the individuals in question now passed by him in the tunnel. Thinking quickly, Dylan removed his helmet and stood to follow the group, acting like he was one of them. Wouldn’t hurt to find out. If it was a release, perhaps one more in a group of a few dozen wouldn’t be noticed.
He arrived at the courtyard and joined a crowd of roughly twenty people. They gathered around the dais that occupied the center of the yard under the atmospheric dome. He was surprised — though, he was careful not to show it — to find a familiar face on the dais. Dylan recognized him even as he was dressed in the maroon security uniform of the Earth Union. He would recognize that pinhead anywhere, in any uniform. Bald head and light mustache.
Dylan searched his memory for the man’s name. Eden? Egan? Yes, Egan. Egan Fasunyax. He would’ve bet his ship, if he still had her, that this was an escape attempt. This guy had the ship; now he was getting the crew. Not hesitating for another moment, he squeezed through the crowd and made his way to the front.
“We have secured a corridor to the launch bay,” the man was telling those gathered in the courtyard below him. “And, we have a transport waiting in orbit of Dante II to take you all away from this Hell. And then, we will fight for what should be ours!”
“Some of my crew are on Dante Two,” a man at the front of the group said. “What about them?”
“Unfortunately, it’s doubtful we will be able to break them out as well. At least, not in a timely manner. But, we will demand their release as soon as we complete our business with those beasts.”
“What about our ship?” asked another in the group. A woman this time.
Dylan now reached the front, coming to stand before the dais. “Your ship’s yours again,” he blurted out before Egan could answer, startling those around him. “‘Less Space Fleet managed to repossess her while I’ve been here.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Egan demanded.
“Good to see ya, too, mister,” Dylan replied in mock courtesy, crossing his arms.
“Who’re you?” asked the woman.
“The man he hired a year ago to steal your ship for ya,” Dylan answered, throwing his head at Egan. He turned his attention back to his last employer. “And, as I was sent to this Hell-hole for that job, you'll take me with ya. After all, ya never did really pay me the rest for that job.”
For a moment, Egan appeared to be trying to think of a reason not to take Dylan along. Finally, he said, “Very well. Let’s go before security find a way to hinder our escape.”
Egan stepped down from the dais and proceeded toward a corridor where a dark-blond-haired woman waited. She stood there with a laser rifle held in ready but not pointed at them. Dylan followed close enough to hear Egan ask the woman, “We’re secure?”
“We are,” the woman answered. “All passages leading to our launch bay are sealed minus ours. It should take them twenty to twenty-five minutes to break through.”
“Then, we need to move quickly,” Egan said. He waved a hand behind him, “Take up the rear.”
Chapter 1
THE DECK plates vibrated beneath Mark's feet as power surged in the Frontier’s warp drive. On the main viewscreen, the white streaks of warp space reverted to a starfield while, beneath his feet, the vibrations ceased. They had returned to normal space. The space less than a light-year ahead of them belonged to the Norseen Confederacy.
“We are secure from warp space,” the helmsman confirmed.
“Stand-by Alert,” Mark instructed the tactical officer. The lighting on the bridge changed to yellow as the captain turned to the chief science officer. She was turned away from him, her brunette head bent over her console. “Everything working, Kate?”
“Yes, Captain,” she answered without looking up. “Now commencing scans.”
Mark returned his attention forward. “Aurora, you have the Saratoga's patrol route?”
“Already plotted,” she replied.
Mark smiled and nodded his approval. He looked around at his command crew, all busy at their stations. He was proud of their efficiency.
The Frontier followed the patrol route. Commander Kate Greigher remained focused on her sensor readings, alert to anything that might indicate what happened to the patrol assigned this sector. Six months ago, Space Fleet Headquarters had received a report from the patrol ship about new activity coming out of Norseen space. The ship had not been heard from since, and all attempts to establish communication had failed. So, the Frontier was sent to investigate.
The next morning, Mark was summoned to the bridge. He stepped onto the operations deck and joined Kate at her station. “Found something?”
“We have,” she answered. She turned her brown eyes to him. “We've detected traces of weapons fire. No sign of debris, however.”
“Norseen?”
“I'm running the check.” Something <i>beeped</i> on the console between them. Kate worked the controls. She sighed and looked back up at him. The grim expression on her face confirmed his guess before she nodded and said, “Norseen.”
Mark sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll prepare a report for HQ.” He started back to the lift, but halted as he remembered something Kate said. He swung back to her. “Wait, you said you didn't find any debris?”
“That’s right,” she acknowledged. She bent back to the results of her most recent scan. “We'll have to run the scan through the Forensics Lab to be sure, but my guess would be ion weapons were used.”
“And there’s no sign of the ship around here?”
“None yet.” She paused in her work as realization struck. She lifted her eyes to meet his, understanding what was on his mind. That the Norseen had captured the ship and taken the crew alive, their fate something that had been seen before. “I’ll let you know if we find anything conclusive.”
Mark mumbled his approval and continued toward the lift. As he descended, his mind wandered, first recalling that war eleven years ago. The crew of the ship he first served on — including the captain — were among those brainwashed by the Norseen. His vision blurred as he remembered Jack, his old captain and friend, on the main viewscreen, his eyes hard— He shook his head to re-bury that memory.
He turned his thoughts instead to that world inhabited by those dragons. They, too, had had a bad experience with the Norseen, right around the same time he was facing-off a completely different Captain Jack Harrison. If the Norseen had indeed renewed their hostilities with Earth... If they had found out about the Union’s Treaty with those dragons from the Saratoga’s databanks... It would seem their Treaty was about to be tested.
*
“What have we got?” Captain Krabush asked. He stepped onto the circular command deck of the station orbiting the sixth moon of Dante II. The control stations were arranged along the bulkheads with a main viewscreen dominating one end of the room. A situation table occupied the center featuring a tactical display of the surrounding space. Attached to it was the command console. His executive, Commander Donner, stood there now and looked up at his entrance.
“We’ve just started picking up a ship at the edge of sensor range,” she answered. “Engine signature shows it’s one of ours.” Krabush stepped up beside her. He studied the tactical display showing a blinking blue icon of an eclipsed planet with a small, gold star representing a ship zooming away — the insignia of the Earth Union.
“We are getting a signal,” the com-officer announced.
“Put it on,” Krabush instructed.
The officer worked his console. “This is United Earth Ship Saratoga. Captain Brenden commanding,” came a voice strained with distress. “Can anyone hear me?”
Krabush signaled the com-officer to open the com-channel. “This is Captain Kostenka Krabush in charge of Starbase Dante Two. We read you, Captain Brenden. What is your status?”
“Thank God.” Brenden sighed, as if with intense relief. “We're still trying to sort it all out. Whatever happened, it has left two-thirds of my crew missing. We must dock to sort ourselves out.”
“You may certainly come in and make a report to Space Fleet Headquarters, if you wish. We will gladly assist in any repairs that you need done.”
“I can’t express my appreciation enough. We’ll be entering orbit in one hour.”
“We will be ready to receive you.”
Contact was severed. “Inform Commander Pejamuri of the situation,” Krabush told the com-officer. While Donner made the necessary arrangements, he studied the tactical readout on the table of the approaching ship. Saratoga — he recognized that name from somewhere. He turned his attention to the monitor before him and called up all the recent reports regarding a Mercury-class UES Saratoga. The most recent that came up was from 5 July 2179.
He read the report and settled into the nearby chair. The ship had gone missing while patrolling the border between the Earth Union and the Norseen Confederacy. It would seem they were finally about to learn what had happened.
“The Saratoga is on final approach,” Donner reported. “She’ll dock at Port Three in fifteen minutes.”
Krabush was just coming to his feet when an alarm pierced the air.
“Saratoga is altering course,” the operations officer said. “They’re no longer aligned with the docking port.”
Krabush looked up at the main viewscreen. Indeed, the ship was tilting off course. She was now poised to go over the station. What were they doing? “Open channel,” he ordered the com-officer.
“They are not responding.”
“Detect—” Whatever Donner had to say was lost in the following explosions that shook the bridge.
*
“Enemy transmission arrays are destroyed,” Kinslin said. Commander Slikmac, standing behind the command chair, dropped his jaw in pleasure. His tail swept in broad arcs as he basked in their first victory of their second phase. The Earth ship’s original weaponry had been replaced with Norseen equivalents that were much more efficient and much more effective. They were indeed most effective against the starbase. Slikmac took his com-link from his belt. “You may proceed, Major Vrhaiess, to the moon.”
“Acknowledged,” came the brisk reply.
*
Egan Fasunyax flew the scout ship past yet another towering, black volcano, spouting molten rock. He zipped over the burnt-red surface, rivers of cooling lava, past enormous crater fortresses. Overhead, the thick layer of yellow clouds flashed here and there. Roars of thunder penetrated the hull.
“We are nearing the coordinates,” Hilda reported from the co-pilot seat. “We should be seeing it on the horizon soon.”
Egan concentrated his eyes on the jagged line where the dark red surface of Dante II-B met the heavy yellow sky.
It wasn’t much longer before the colony finally came into view. The penal settlement had been constructed within a crater under a huge dome spanning a roughly circular area of five kilometers in diameter. The dome enveloped an Earth-like atmosphere for the inhabitants. A kilometer out from the atmospheric dome, poles rose a hundred meters into the air and were placed in a circle around the settlement at one-kilometer intervals. When activated, they would generate a large shield to protect the colony from any lava flows that might occur in its vicinity.
“Their Command Center is hailing,” Hilda announced.
“You know what to do,” Egan said. Hilda nodded and explained over the com-channel that they had been scouting for sites of a possible new settlement, and that they needed to land for re-supply. Meanwhile, Egan continued his descent toward the colony, making for the first shuttleport he located. The launch doors of the ports opened in the stone rim of the crater.
“Launch Control wants us to surrender control to them.”
“They have it,” Egan answered as he worked the appropriate controls. When an indicator blinked blue, signaling that control was locked, he turned to see Cyrus entering the cockpit, a short man sporting a balding crown and sideburns. “Everyone ready back there?”
“They are,” was the brisk response.
“We’re almost there.” Egan turned back to the main viewport. The distance between them and the opened shuttleport quickly diminished.
“I can see that,” the man replied dryly. “The sooner we can get our colleagues out of that hell, the sooner we can begin claiming what ought to be ours — under our laws, not submitting to some giant, winged beasts.” Egan nodded his agreement.
Within minutes, the launch bay swallowed their ship. Egan landed their craft on the launch deck. While the launch bay was re-pressurized with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, Egan made for the boarding hatch with Hilda and Cyrus on his heels. Their teams were waiting for him. “Cyrus, your team will stay here and guard the ship.”
The man gave a curt nodded. Hilda, monitoring a nearby readout, reported the atmosphere outside was Earth-normal and opened the hatch. Egan motioned for Hilda to follow him. “The rest of you stay aboard and out of sight until I give the signal.”
The door on the west wall opened by the time Egan and Hilda were on the launch deck, admitting an officer and two security guards.
“The launch crew will be here shortly, sir,” the officer said. “We weren’t expecting to receive any ships for some time.”
“I'm sure you weren’t,” Egan said, and he drew a concealed laser pistol. He carbonized the officer’s head and shot another bolt through the chest of one of the guards. Hilda took the other guard. He swung back toward the scout ship and waved for his people to follow him. He led them past the three bodies toward the door. He kept his eyes off the bodies. It had to be done. He had justified it to himself before the mission began. It had to be done in order for them to claim what should rightfully be theirs.
*
Dylan March switched off his laser drill and set it on the ground beside him, next to a crate filled with the raw ores he found so far that day. He straightened his back and stretched; his joints cracked. He lifted his faceplate, tore off gloves that were reddened with Hell’s dirt, and rubbed his tired eyes. He looked up and down the tunnel where he worked.
The Mines of Dante. An incarnation of Hell if he ever saw one. Granted, the moons, with all of their volcanic activity, offered a cache of valuable ores that would be used in constructing starships and starbases. But he could not believe he was here doing the mining. He’d sworn he would never get sentenced to a place like this. Hell, he’d sworn he would never get caught, period. How the hell did that happen?
As he grumbled over this, a voice echoed through the PA system. “Attention all personnel,” it demanded. “All former crew of the Private Starship Determination will gather in the main courtyard. All other personnel will vacate that location.”
Dylan wondered at the unusual command as it was repeated. The ship name was familiar enough. His last job, in fact, just before he was caught — and subsequently damned — involved that ship. And he remembered hearing some news about that ship several years back, with a crew ignoring an order from a couple of Space Fleet ships. It was no business of his, so he’d paid it little attention.
Why would the colony’s authorities want them all alone in one area? The Earth Union was not in the habit of executing its criminals except in special cases. Even if it was, it would not make the least bit of sense now, years after the offense that put them there. Perhaps they were being released. Or, it could just be a big gathering to dispense congratulations and encouragement on fine work to date — but why kick all other personnel out of the courtyard? A group of the individuals in question now passed by him in the tunnel. Thinking quickly, Dylan removed his helmet and stood to follow the group, acting like he was one of them. Wouldn’t hurt to find out. If it was a release, perhaps one more in a group of a few dozen wouldn’t be noticed.
He arrived at the courtyard and joined a crowd of roughly twenty people. They gathered around the dais that occupied the center of the yard under the atmospheric dome. He was surprised — though, he was careful not to show it — to find a familiar face on the dais. Dylan recognized him even as he was dressed in the maroon security uniform of the Earth Union. He would recognize that pinhead anywhere, in any uniform. Bald head and light mustache.
Dylan searched his memory for the man’s name. Eden? Egan? Yes, Egan. Egan Fasunyax. He would’ve bet his ship, if he still had her, that this was an escape attempt. This guy had the ship; now he was getting the crew. Not hesitating for another moment, he squeezed through the crowd and made his way to the front.
“We have secured a corridor to the launch bay,” the man was telling those gathered in the courtyard below him. “And, we have a transport waiting in orbit of Dante II to take you all away from this Hell. And then, we will fight for what should be ours!”
“Some of my crew are on Dante Two,” a man at the front of the group said. “What about them?”
“Unfortunately, it’s doubtful we will be able to break them out as well. At least, not in a timely manner. But, we will demand their release as soon as we complete our business with those beasts.”
“What about our ship?” asked another in the group. A woman this time.
Dylan now reached the front, coming to stand before the dais. “Your ship’s yours again,” he blurted out before Egan could answer, startling those around him. “‘Less Space Fleet managed to repossess her while I’ve been here.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Egan demanded.
“Good to see ya, too, mister,” Dylan replied in mock courtesy, crossing his arms.
“Who’re you?” asked the woman.
“The man he hired a year ago to steal your ship for ya,” Dylan answered, throwing his head at Egan. He turned his attention back to his last employer. “And, as I was sent to this Hell-hole for that job, you'll take me with ya. After all, ya never did really pay me the rest for that job.”
For a moment, Egan appeared to be trying to think of a reason not to take Dylan along. Finally, he said, “Very well. Let’s go before security find a way to hinder our escape.”
Egan stepped down from the dais and proceeded toward a corridor where a dark-blond-haired woman waited. She stood there with a laser rifle held in ready but not pointed at them. Dylan followed close enough to hear Egan ask the woman, “We’re secure?”
“We are,” the woman answered. “All passages leading to our launch bay are sealed minus ours. It should take them twenty to twenty-five minutes to break through.”
“Then, we need to move quickly,” Egan said. He waved a hand behind him, “Take up the rear.”