The Sunfire Read online

  Turning back to his squad, he motioned them towards the door with his head. The squad immediately divided into two teams, each taking one side of the door, one hand resting on the shoulder of the squad mate in front of him.

  “On three,” Gunny mouthed.

  “One.”

  “Two.”

  “Three,” Gunny said. Hitting the door release, the assault team streamed into the now deserted docking bay.

  *****

  Meanwhile Jon was doggedly making his way towards the ship’s bridge, hoping that either the Captain or the required authorisation codes would be there. Hopefully, with luck, both.

  Suddenly a hatch swung open in front of him. The woman stared at him, mouth agape.

  “What the—,” she exclaimed, but was abruptly cut-off by Jon’s fist hitting her under the chin. Her head snapped back, bouncing off the bulkhead with a resounding crunch.

  Wincing, Jon carefully lowered the unconscious woman to the ground, relieved to find a pulse, as he hated hitting women. Stepping around the prostrate body on the floor, Jon continued onwards, towards what he hoped was the bridge.

  Glancing around the next corner, Jon cursed upon noticing two crewmen in a heated discussion. It seemed that this corridor was the main thoroughfare connecting the length of the ship to the bridge at the front. Jon was acutely aware time was working against him, as very soon somebody was going to discover one of the unconscious bodies and raise the alarm. Making a snap decision that there was no time to backtrack; he stuck out his chest and marched forward. Looking to all who might see him as if he owned the ship.

  The two crew members spotted him almost immediately, with a similar reaction to the previous crew he had encountered, which was stunned disbelief.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” The first demanded angrily, while the second observed him suspiciously.

  Deciding to stick with the original cover story, he put on an expression of self-imposed importance, marching towards the crew and demanded. “I am looking for your captain. Your docking fees are days overdue. Unless they are paid immediately I will be forced to impound this ship.”

  “Where the hell did Fredrickson go? He was meant to be on watch.” The first hissed angrily. “So help him god if he sneaked off for a smoke.”

  Jon had absolutely no idea who Fredrickson was, but took a guess that he was currently lying unconscious outside the ship. However, what concerned Jon more was one of the crew was obviously moving towards an intercom. If possible, Jon urgently had to stop him from calling the bridge. Hence lengthening his stride, he put himself between the crewman and the intercom. Jabbing the crewman in the chest with his finger, he insisted. “Who are you? Where is the captain? I insist that you take me to him immediately, otherwise I will triple the fine.”

  With a large barrel chest and massive biceps, it was obvious this man spent a good deal of time in the gym and was less than happy about being poked in the chest by some station lackey. “Why you little shit,” he growled, pulling his hand back, obviously preparing to let loose a massive blow.

  The instant he let fly the punch, Jon simply stepped aside, the massive fist slammed into the bulkhead behind him. If Jon thought that must have hurt, this was confirmed by a scream of pain from the assailant. Jon meanwhile calmly stepped back into his field of vision and struck out with a fast sucker punch to the stomach. However, hitting the crewman there felt like hitting a brick wall and the blow had about the same effect—namely none at all.

  “You bastard.” The crewman yelled, spreading his arms wide and charging forward.

  With so little room to manoeuvre in the corridor, Jon had nowhere else to go and hence was caught in his arms, which instantly closed like a vice, squeezing him hard. The next thing he knew he was being lifted up off the floor and slammed into the wall, the breath escaping rapidly from his lungs, while stars danced in front of him from the impact of his head bouncing off the wall.

  However, what concerned Jon more was that over the shoulder of the giant who was intent on squeezing him to death, he saw the other crewman further down the corridor dashing for a large red button. Jon would be willing to bet good credits that it was the ship’s alarm.

  With very little time to spare, he did exactly what he taught Sofia many years ago to do, when immobilised by a much larger, stronger opponent. Jon hammered his forehead into the bridge of his assailant’s nose, stunning him. He then used the corridor behind him for leverage, kicking the crewman between the legs. With a muffled cry of pain, the crewman crashed to the deck, hands on his groin, whimpering painfully. However, Jon did not have time to stop and wait, instead sprinted down the corridor after the other fleeing crewman.

  Unfortunately he was about three meters, and two seconds too late.

  The crewman smashed his fist down on the large, red button, and almost immediately a deafening siren sounded throughout the ship.

  “Shit,” cursed Jon, reaching the crewman who was just turning round to check on his colleague. Running full pelt, Jon swung with his fist and caught the crewman under the jaw. With Jon’s full momentum behind the blow, the crewman lifted off the ground, slamming into the bulkhead behind him and slid down the wall and never moved. Jon had no time to check on the two crewmen as he continued sprinting down the corridor, towards the large open hatch ahead. A hatch that Jon hoped would lead to the bridge.

  Diving through the portal on the off chance that it could suddenly slam shut; he was relieved to find himself on the cramped bridge of the freighter. Sprawled out on the floor, resting on his chest, he quickly looked around the bridge, but all the panels were powered off, the lights dimmed. The bridge seemed to be deserted.

  “Don’t move an inch, otherwise I will blow your head-off.” A voice suddenly growled from behind him.

  Twisting his head slightly, Jon could make out a short, balding man, in a jumpsuit, with a pulse pistol firmly in his hand, pointing unwaveringly at him.

  “You the Captain?” Jon wheezed, still trying to catch his breath from the earlier fight and subsequent mad dash to the bridge.

  “That's right and who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m from docking facilities, come to talk to you about some unpaid docking fees?” Jon inquired, even to him the explanation sounded pitifully weak.

  “I’ve paid all the docking fees. In advance.”

  “Oh,” Jon replied, deflated. The cover story had helped him this far.

  “You stay right where you are. On your knees. Hands behind your head,” the Captain ordered.

  Jon could hear the whine, as the pulse pistol was adjusted to full power.

  “Last chance, moron,” the Captain insisted. “Tell me who you are and why you are here, otherwise I’ll shoot you here and now.”

  Jon desperately looked for a way out of the predicament, but there was nothing within reach and even if he could find something to use, the Captain was too far away. Thinking desperately to try and stall for time Jon stated. “I came with a business offer, I really need to hire a freighter. I can pay.”

  “Wrong answer,” the Captain interrupted him, tightening his finger on the trigger.

  Jon heard the sound of the pistol discharging and waited for the agonising pain to engulf him but nothing came. Jon hesitantly cast a glance over his shoulder, to see the Captain trembling on the floor, his body still jolting from being hit by the stun weapon. Casting his eyes above the body Jon could clearly see Miranda standing behind him, her weapon still pointing at the man.

  “Thanks,” Jon said stumbling to his feet, shooting her a grin. “I owe you. That is the second time now you have saved my life.”

  Miranda just rolled her eyes, taking a step forward, staring at the immobilised Captain. “I was not aware that we were keeping score?”

  “Sure we are,” Jon flirted back. “I like to keep a running count. To know how much I owe you.”

  “So how are you going to pay me back?”

  Jon looked at Miranda from head-to-toe, admirin
g her figure in the tight body-hugging black flight suit she wore, and with a broad grin he replied. “I’ll think of something.”

  Miranda just rolled her eyes again, before nudging the unconscious body at her feet. “Is this who we are looking for?”

  “I think so,” he replied. Looking around for something to use to restrain the Captain.

  A moment later Gunny stuck his head through the hatch, casting his eye professionally around the bridge to ensure that it was secured, with nobody else hiding in the shadows. “The ship is secure, Commander.”

  “Thanks Gunny. Oh, and Gunny?” Jon added before the other man could disappear back into the bowls of the ship.

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for not waiting for my signal.”

  “No problem Commander. The Captain warned me about you pulling a John Rambo,” Gunny announced each word carefully to ensure the correct pronunciation.

  Jon only laughed, recognising the name from one of the old 20th Century action films Paul and he watched occasionally. They avoided Sci-Fi films as it reminded them both too much of work.

  *****

  “You find anything Jason?” Jon inquired several hours later after the Captain and crew had been checked by the medical team and then restrained.

  “It’s not here, Commander,” Jason replied resignedly. “I’ve gone over the ship’s main computer twice and any other portable storage devices that we could find. The authorisation codes are not there assuming, of course, they even exist.”

  “They exist, I am sure of it,” Jon replied confidently. “An operation like the Tyrell Corporation would not have lasted so long and certainly not maintained the secrecy that it obviously does, without some form of two-factor authorisation. Looks like we are going with Plan B.”

  “The Captain?” Jason surmised.

  “The Captain,” Jon confirmed. “Come on Gunny, time for some good cop, bad cop routine, with a little added twist.”

  *****

  To say the freighter Captain was livid would be an understatement. Restrained in a chair in his personal quarters, his face was completely red and the profanity coming out from his mouth would make a seasoned sailor blush. Jon just took a seat opposite and let the Captain run out of curses for him. It took quite some time and by the end even Jon had some respect for the diverse variety the Captain used. However, finally he fell silent, just glaring at the Commander, with his eyes occasionally turning to Gunny who stood immobile beside him.

  “We need to borrow your ship for a couple of days Captain,” Jon started off with friendly banter.

  “Over my dead body,” the Captain replied, venomously.

  “Captain Johansson? Did I pronounce that correctly?” Jon asked, glancing at a datapad Jason had supplied him moments before.

  Johansson did not reply, just continued to stare daggers at him.

  “Well really, there is not much you can do to stop us taking your ship. Especially considering your current predicament,” Jon motioned towards the restraints, confining him to the chair.

  Johansson just cursed again.

  “No, my mother is perfectly fine and I am confident in my heritage,” Jon replied mildly, before snapping his fingers. “However, there is one other thing that I need. The two-factor authorisation codes to get me past the orbital defences around Tartarus.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “I’m sure that you do.”

  “Just assuming I know what you are talking about, I couldn’t give them to you. I would be a dead man walking. Sejanus would kill me.”

  “We’ll kill you if you don’t give them to us,” growled Gunny, his hand ready on the heavy pistol at his side.

  “You see,” Jon continued in a reasonable tone of voice. “I don’t think you understand the severity of the predicament you currently find yourself in.”

  “Sejanus will kill me if I give you the codes, your thug here will kill me if I don’t. And you say that I do not understand the gravity of the situation?”

  Jon nodded his head happily in confirmation. “It is far, far worse.”

  Johansson was completely agog. “It’s worse? How?” He muttered hoarsely.

  “You see, some eccentric, rich, lunatic—that's me by the way—” Jon clarified, “Transferred thirteen million credits into your personal account a few minutes ago.”

  Johansson looked first at Jon then Gunny with wild eyes. “You’re crazy, you’re both crazy,” he spluttered.

  “No, not at all. No need to take my word for it, check it yourself.” Jon tossed the Captain one of his datapads. Looking at them suspiciously but unable to see the harm, he accessed his on-line account from the device. Turning a deathly shade of pale, he could only stare at the balance in complete and abject horror.

  “So now you fully understand your predicament, there is another option open to us. I could just release you and your ship to return to Tartarus, where you will have to explain to Sejanus how a crazily rich, eccentric lunatic forced his way onto your ship, gave you thirteen million credits at gunpoint and then let you go without wanting anything in return. Good luck with that story by the way.” Jon laughed.

  Johansson once again glanced between the two men, but this time something else appeared in his eyes—greed. “What do you want in return?” He asked, licking his lips.

  “The authorisation codes needed for docking control of Tartarus,” Jon replied promptly.

  “And what of me and my crew?”

  “You will remain on the station here as our guests for the next couple of days, to ensure you have given us the correct codes and to stop you warning Sejanus. At the end of the week you will all be free to go your separate ways.”

  “And my reward?”

  “That stays between us. I will leave it up to you what you want to tell your crew,” Jon replied choosing his words carefully.

  Johansson looked once more at the account balance prominently displayed on the device, before turning to the two men in front of him, paying particular attention to the weapons at their waist, and making his decision.

  *****

  “We have obtained the necessary clearance codes to allow us past the orbital defences and onto the landing pad that has already been assigned to the Phoenix. We also have a basic layout of the facility, at least the parts accessible to the civilian crew,” Jon reported to Paul via the communications console.

  “So I take it you managed to convince the freighter Captain?”

  “He sung like a canary, especially when he saw his bank balance.”

  “I still don’t like giving such vast sums of money away like that,” Paul frowned.

  Jon simply laughed. “I’m sure that Marcus will pay us back if we get him off Tartarus alive,” he said. “And if we don’t, then we cannot take the money into the next life with us.”

  “So when you are planning on departing?”

  “We are ready to leave now. As Gunny’s team have just finished loading the last of the equipment,” Jon said. “However, the flight plan already filed by Johansson stipulates that we depart tomorrow. We will stick to his flight plan to avoid raising suspicion. A day’s delay will not hurt us. What is the status of the Sunfire?”

  “We are at full combat readiness,” Paul replied. “We will be there at the agreed time.” He added earnestly.

  “I never doubted it for a second. You take care my friend.”

  “You too,” Paul replied. “We will see you in three days.”

  Just as Jon closed the communication console, the doors to the Captain’s private quarters chimed, notifying him that his guests had arrived. “Come,” he called.

  The doors slid open to reveal Gunny with Miranda in tow. “I love civilian freighters,” Gunny chortled, waving a bottle of Scotch in the air.

  Jon smiled, finding a couple of grimy glasses in the Captain’s quarters, which he polished against his uniform, before settling them on a small table.

  Gunny poured a generous helping into eac
h glass, before raising his glass in toast. “To a successful operation and the safe return of the boss,” Gunny exclaimed, as the glasses clinked together.

  “Is this a good idea?” Miranda asked warily, motioning towards the bottle. “Considering where we are going tomorrow?”

  “One glass is safe enough. Anyway it is a good luck tradition and we could do with all the luck that we can get. Are we keeping you from something Gunny?” Jon inquired with a knowing smile, observing Gunny glancing at the chronometer in the cabin.

  “Uh, no, nothing,” Gunny replied turning an interesting shade of pink. “Get going Gunny,” Jon ordered. “Otherwise you will miss your call with Lieutenant Castle.”

  “How did you know?” Gunny exclaimed in disbelief.

  “One of my many skills, Gunny. Now go, get. Before you are too late,” Jon shooed the marine out of his quarters.

  “So clairvoyance is one of your skills?” Miranda asked with a grin.

  “Hardly,” Jon replied returning the smile. “I just finished talking to Paul and he asked me to authorise the transmission, as technically the Sunfire is maintaining communication silence.”

  “So Gunny and Lieutenant Castle? I would never have guessed.”

  “I believe it started with the monster in the wardrobe incident,” Jon laughed.

  “Monster in the wardrobe?” Miranda asked confused.

  “You don’t know the story?” Jon looked surprised. Miranda shook her head. “Well I guess it was a couple of months before you arrived.”

  “So what happened?”

  Jon shrugged and explained, “Castle has a young daughter, Elizabeth, about six years old. Do you know her?”

  Miranda nodded.

  “Well Castle’s husband was a navy pilot, he was killed a couple of years back in one of the last fleet engagements before the Imperial Navy was disbanded. She has brought up her daughter on her own ever since.”

  “So who is looking after her now?” Miranda quickly asked.

  Jon frowned at being interrupted. “She is staying with Carol and the kids, until Castle gets back. Anyway, back to the story,” Jon glared. “Elizabeth would not settle one night, insisting there was a monster in her wardrobe. Castle had just finished a double shift and was at her wit’s end, so in desperation she called security and asked if they could send somebody to reassure her daughter there was no monster in the wardrobe.”