Belly of the Beast

In the belly of the transport, I was a ghost. Sabrina, as Archangel in her tactical control chair, was feeding internal diagrams of the boat to my head's up display, giving me a route towards my quarry. General, I was quite sure, was watching our target for any signs of change as I worked my way from an auxiliary maintenance hatch deeper into the ship's Engineering space.

The boat's Mechanic was somewhere in the Engineering space, but the resolution we could get from their onboard sensors was negligible. That meant I would be working my way through the boat the hard way: relying on instinct and training to find and eliminate the crew before they knew I was even here. By preference, I would eliminate their Pilot first, then their Mechanic. But my ingress through the maintenance hatch changed that.

Mother Dragon prowls
Silent hunter in the night
Unseen in the dark

The Mechanic was a skinny, somewhat greasy, young man, with a shaved head and extensive tattoos. He was sitting at the Engineering console, feet up, reading a glossy skin mag out of Londinium. With the low thrum of the boat's power plant so close at hand, he didn't hear me approach.

With the reflective surfaces of his console though, he did catch a glimpse. More confused than surprised or scared, he looked around to see who was creating the blurry reflection on his console. In a moment his expression of bored curiosity turned to one of shocked surprise. As the skin mag dropped from his hand, I lashed out, wrapping my fingers around his throat like a steel vice, thumb pressing on a pressure point beneath his jaw.

"I am here for the girl. Where is she?" My voice was barely above a whisper and, distorted by my helmet's comm system, it sounded androgynous. Androgynous and calm. Calm as death itself.

He gurgled something and I released enough tension on his windpipe to let him speak. "Don't got no girl here!" His voice was strangled, full of a combination of defiance and fear.

"Do not lie to me."

"No girl! I swear!" As he protested, his hand reached for a spanner on the console behind him. Though not unseen. He took a wild swing towards my helmet, which I quickly ducked, fluidly changing position. Pushing upward with the hand at his throat, I brought armored knuckles to the back of his head, tipping his head back painfully.

"You should not have lied."

Fragile bones will snap
Poor decisions have a price
You should not have lied

With their mechanic eliminated, I took a moment to patch into their Engineering console. While their internal sensors were as bad as Sabrina said they were, a direct patch gave us a better idea of the crew's distribution through the transport's interior.

"Looks like one on the flight deck, two down in the passenger section, and three more in the common." Sabrina said calmly. I knew she was nervous with me here in the transport alone, She'd said as much, but she wasn't showing it.

"Copy that, Archangel. I'll take the Common first."

General'd given me several strips of weld-tape on the off chance I needed it. The tape was childishly simple to use. Cut to length. Peel the backing. Stick it to one surface you wanted to weld. Peel the activation strip, and bring the other part you wanted to weld into contact. Fifteen seconds later the tap would activate and thermal weld whatever it was that the tape was stuck to.

It was a great way to seal a hatch behind you. Which I did. Getting back into the Engineering space through the primary hatch would be an exercise in futility. Or an exercise with a cutting torch. Either way, after placing a couple of surgical charges that would disable very specific functions, I left the Engineering space and sealed it behind me.

The common area was one level up from where I'd exited the Engineering space. Like most boats in this general class, it housed the galley, lounge, what passed for a recreation area, and in this case, a compact infirmary. It was where off duty crew and the passengers who didn't want to stay in their cabins would hang out.

On this boat, the "passengers" were usually locked in cabins that had been converted to cells. Though as far as we could tell, Aurora was the only passenger they had aboard.

From outside the Common, with a bit of audio amplification I could hear what sounded like a card game in progress. Two voices? Then three. Estimate was these were the crew's 'hired muscle'.

Like any crew on the Rim, they'd try and run as lean as they could and still get the job done. That typically meant two or three people who actually ran the boat. More if it was required. The remainder would be hired muscle to handle the 'cargo'. Might be a dedicated medic if they were dealing in Indentures, since letting people die cost them money. But often as not, there'd be no one worried about whether or not the cargo made it to the destination alive.

In silence, I moved back down the companionway to where one of the boat's cooling pipes routed across the a bulkhead. Taking one of the small explosives charges from its box, I stuck trimmed it down and stuck it to an exposed junction, then worked my way half way back up the corridor. "Archangel. Charge seven."

With a soft 'bang' the small charge detonated, opening a breach in the pipe to let a flood of water vapor spill into the companionway. Functionally, the breach was harmless but it should serve as a more than adequate diversion.

I could hear a bit of confusion from the Commons, then the gruff voice of what had to be their captain over the internal comms. "Hey, looks like we've got an alarm in Two Left. One of you clowns go check it out."

A moment's complaining and briefly arguing about who would go, and I could see a single figure entering the corridor out of the Common. A notch in the corridor to access one of the upper store rooms and the cloud of vapor hid me from view. Muttering under his breath about old boats and being 'the new guy' he neither heard nor saw me as he passed my hiding spot. In a moment, I moved from hiding behind him and coldly snapped his neck, catching his body as he fell, guiding his crumpled form to the ground in the little alcove in front of the store room.

Back in the Common, I could hear the other two growing impatient and within a minute I could see them stepping together into the corridor. Drawing the silenced .50 I half stepped from the alcove and squeezed off a round. The muscle on the right half spun as he dropped, the 21 gram round translating kinetic energy into an abrupt cessation of bodily function.

His partner turned in stunned surprise, looking at the falling body, only to turn back and peer into the vapor, half reaching for his own side arm. There was a chance he'd seen the slender black clad form in the cloud before the second fifty caliber round found its mark, ending his career as a Slaver.

Four down, two to go
Responsible for his crew
The captain is next

"Commons is clear, Archangel. Status?" I asked as I made my way carefully into the Common, stepping over the bodies of the two fallen Slavers. As I waited a moment for Sabrina to check the internals, such as they were, I grabbed the two thug's idents. Whether it led to anything or not, they would be worth getting.

"Still one on the flight deck. One and a half on the crew deck if the reads are right. No further motion."

I acknowledged and worked my way more urgently towards the flight deck. It wouldn't be long before the pilot started to wonder why he hadn't heard back from his crew.

Just outside the flight deck I paused. "Archangel, standby to disable internal comms." 'Brina didn't bother acknowledging aloud. Just a telltale on my heads up, showing the system was ready to do its thing.

"Go Hwong Tong! Where are you Buhn Dahn?" was mostly complete before the internal communication went static, then dead. A moment later he stepped from the bridge, weapon drawn. He must have realized something was amiss on his boat. Whether it was a simple mechanical failure that was getting out of hand, or an intruder.

A bit of both, really.

In a fluid motion I stepped from me spot next to the bridge door, slamming my elbow down into his weapon hand, sending it clattering to the deck as I spun in and drove my knee into his gut, sending him sprawling back into the cockpit in a heap. I'd taken a gamble on the position, but ninety percent of the Human population was right handed, making it a safe bet.

"Where is the girl?" I asked him as he looked up at me in stunned surprise, nursing his broken right hand. The tone was as quiet, calm, and androgynous as it had been with the Mechanic.

"Passenger deck. Second on the left. Ta ma duh! Who are you?!" He was trying to look past me down towards the Common, probably hoping for reinforcements that would never come.

I didn't bother answering his question. I just went on. "Good boy. Who hired you?"

He paled. I could see by his reaction that he was more afraid of whoever hired him than he was of me. "No. They'll kill me if I tell you!"

"And I won't?"

"Chwee Ni Duh!" he cursed, daring me to end him on the deck.

Captain makes his choice
Fear them more than the Dragon
Dragon kills quickly

Before leaving the flight deck, I checked their course to confirm what we already knew. Letting inertia do its job, the transport would pass within navtrak range of Muir in a couple of days. The empty crippled hulk should serve as a message to whoever had sent the Slavers after Aurora. If not? So be it. By then Aurora would be far away and safe.

With another strip of weld-tape I sealed the flight deck hatch and started working my way back through the transport to the passenger deck. If 'brina'd gotten a good read on the ship's compliment, there was only one person left guarding Aurora. One person between me and Tiny Dragon.

One last obstacle.

I'd been moving silently through the ship, being careful to stay to the numbers: checking for sensors, opponents, and potential places to screw up and wreck the Op. Against an unskilled target, it would have been easy to get overconfident and stray from training. With Aurora on the line, I wasn't going to get sloppy.

It was fairly obvious where the actual crew stayed and where their 'passengers' were kept. Cramped as the passenger accommodations were, I'd actually seen worse. In fact, they weren't much worse than some of the troop transports I'd been aboard during the war. Though the barracks had a proper head, and you got to actually leave your bunk.

With the enhanced sensors in my helmet, I actually had a good idea of what was on the other side of each of the thin, though strong, cabin doors. All were empty, save one. Two signatures inside. The ident was far from perfect, but it appeared to be one adult and one child. Aurora and a handler.

There was a fairly good chance that this last crew member was aware that something had gone wrong. The pilot's initial request, and second call to the crew, though interrupted, had been ship wide. That meant they were going to be more vigilant than the others aboard, and that was potentially a problem.

I crept up to the cabin door, keeping out of the way of the simple door cameras as I swapped out the magazine in my Fifty for a fresh one. Aurora's life might depend on the next few seconds, and I needed to make sure I was fully loaded.

We could easily kill the lights and shut down the boat's internal gravity, but any sudden change like that might be disastrous for Aurora. Not a risk I was willing to take. Which meant cycling the door and hoping I could get onto my target before they did something . . . regrettable.

I took a deep calming breath, centering myself, the Zen calm elevated to a point where the entire universe seemed to be moving in slow motion. The next few seconds were crucial, but I was ready as was humanly possible. "Archangel. Final target. I'm going in."

The door cycled quickly and I moved into position, half covered, weapon ready, shifting to assess people's positions in the small cabin. The scene that greeted me though gave me a moment's pause.

Aurora was standing a little uncomfortably as her 'handler' - a rather pretty thirty-something woman with a cascade of dark chestnut hair - was calmly dressing her in a child-sized EVA suit. Almost by reflex I drew down on the woman, but Aurora interrupted me in a small voice. "Mot. . . mi . . . Please? Don't kill her?"

The woman had already stopped what she was doing and turned to look at me, a half expectant, half resigned, expression on her face. "As you wish," I said softly to Aurora, then nodded to a chair over in the corner of the room where the woman quickly took a seat. "She saved your life." The woman just nodded, but said nothing.

Aurora moved next to me, taking the EVA helmet in her little hands. "Who hired you?" I asked the woman calmly, but she said nothing. While I could have pressed the issue, getting Aurora off this tub was more important at the moment than trying to extract information from someone who might not even have it.

"This boat is hobbled. You have power and life support to last a month, but no communications or maneuver. In about three days you will be within range of rescue. We will make sure you are found," I told her, putting my free hand on Aurora's shoulder and gently shifting her behind me.

The woman nodded faintly, remaining seated as Aurora and I backed out into the corridor and closed the door behind us. "Archangel. Target acquired. Moving to the starboard lock."

Wisdom of a child
Mercy to an enemy
A lesson learned well

Within a few minutes, General had soft docked Wave Equation to the transport's air lock and we'd transfered over. Safe. Five minutes later, we'd fired the last charges to thoroughly disable drives and communications, and were turned for the loop back towards Hale's Moon.

It would be a somewhat longer flight home, seeing as we were trying to keep our wake quiet and we needed to get a wave off to Jai or Gallagher to let the authorities on Muir that "they'd spotted a boat that seemed to have lost comms and drives, and maybe they should look on this here vector about a rescue."

Finally though, it was done. Aurora was safe and we were one our way home. A little time to relax while Wave Equation burned a hole in the Black. Time enough to gather Aurora, and my wife, and the friend who'd risked his life to come help us, and read.

"The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette..."