Chapter 13: Chapter 33: Mutiny

Still puzzled by the empty galley, Dash barely noticed the sound of the parting lift doors.

He peeked out the galley in the direction of the lift, expecting Milia. Tinker stood frozen in the middle of the passageway. An odd sight. Then, two flailing forms stuck out of the partially open lift doors—Brock and Henrik, whispering furiously at each other. Brock shifted his torso, widening the gap. Henrik popped free and fell. He smacked atop the deck, something bouncing from his hand. It spun and came to a rest a meter away.

A pistol.

Henrik’s gaze lifted from the weapon to meet Dash. The captain eyed the pistol, then the matching one in Brock’s grasp.

The split-second moment stretched into infinity as captain and crew stood opposed, the bot unmoving between them. Instincts hammered through the haze of sleep deprivation and disbelief, compelling Dash into action. He launched himself through the pressure hatch beyond the galley as an energy shot streaked by. It struck the far end of the passageway as he spun and slapped the hatch panel. The hatch shut as Brock sidestepped Tinker and charged after him.

Dash engaged the manual lock, then opened the backpack. He pulled Betsy free and saw Milia’s pistol had been removed. He cursed himself for not checking earlier. She must’ve slipped it out while waiting for him to process through the gate.

Clutching Betsy, he willed himself to peer through the hatch’s small viewport. Brock’s angry face loomed, his muscular jaw clenched like some deranged killer from a horror vid. His breath fogged the glass as he said, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“You should know me better than that,” Dash said, and raised Betsy toward the viewport. Brock ducked out of sight. Dash backed away and opened a comm to Gaius and Wesley. It failed to connect. He tried again, and then understood. It wasn’t a coincidence. Milia had called him down on false pretenses, then must’ve slipped onto the bridge behind him. Somehow, she’d locked him out of his own ship.

He ran to the next junction. Turning a corner, then another, he passed his quarters and came to a halt at Gaius’s. He pounded on the hatch and shouted, “Blue sun!”

Pulsing music and muffled noises sounded within the pilot’s quarters. “Cap? What’s all the fuss about?”

“I said blue sun!”

“Er, what’s that mean again?”

“It means there’s a fucking mutiny!”

“Captain?” a voice said beside Dash. Wesley stood a few meters away in the middle of the passageway. The medtech’s gaunt complexion made him look like he’d seen a ghost.

Dash waved Wesley over. Footsteps pounded on the deck as Gaius opened the hatch. He stood there in his underwear, a confused expression on his face. Dash grabbed Wesley and dove into Gaius’s quarters as a shot ripped past them. Gaius snapped awake to reality and slapped on the panel, closing the hatch and locking it.

“Mutiny? Is the ops crew seriously shooting at us?” Gaius said.

“Yes,” Dash said over the pulsing electronic music. “Turn the noise off.”

“It’s not noise. It’s Lady Starlight’s newest release.”

“I don’t care. Turn it off. Milia’s locked us out of the ship. Use your bunk panel,” he said.

Gaius tried to switch off the music via his PD, out of habit rather than disobedience, and frowned as he saw Dash was right. He reached into his bunk and muted the music. “How are we locked out? You didn’t give her full command by accident, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Open the hatch,” said the muffled voice of Henrik. “You’re locked out of the ship’s hub. There’s no chance to regain control or call for help, so don’t bother.”

“If you want any chance at staying alive, you’ll come out of there now,” Brock said. “Otherwise, this gets unpleasant.”

Dash said, “Henrik, I know you and I don’t get along, but—”

“Don’t even try it. You’re not talking your way out of this one,” Henrik said.

“It’s over, Dash,” Rosalie said.

“Sorry,” Draug said.

“The gang’s all here then,” Dash said.

“You’re a subpar captain,” Henrik said from the other side of the hatch. “Before the unrest, you could barely get by. Now, post-Auturia, you can’t hack it anymore. We’ve found someone who can. So we’re replacing you.”

Something thumped on the other side of the hatch. Brock said, “Open the hatch now, or we will!”

“Try it,” Dash said, holding Betsy at the ready. “How much you want to bet Betsy can blow a hole through the hatch, and you?” The banging stopped.

“You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” Wesley shouted at the hatch, his voice trembling. “How could you betray the trust of your captain?”

“Shut up, Doc, you Commonwealth stooge,” Brock said.

Gaius grinned at Wesley. “I might’ve vented about your support for regulations when you first came aboard. But I don’t really think that about you now.”

“What do we do, Captain?” Wesley said.

“We can fight,” Gaius said, holding up an angry fist.

“They’ve got an advantage in numbers and guns. And who knows what other surprises Milia has in store?” Dash said. “The autopilot is on. Once we get close, we might be able to connect our PDs to the Depot network. We’ll find some way to call for help. This mutiny will be over in no time.”

---

Milia swore under her breath as her fingers danced over the panel. She swore a second, and a third time. A colorful combination, followed by a rapid-fire barrage.

The command override malware in her datastick was not working. She was on her third run-through when she remembered to check in on the mutineers down below. They should’ve reported in by then. “What’s your status?” she asked over the ops crew comm.

“They’re hiding in Gaius’s quarters,” Henrik said. “They’re not going anywhere.”

Milia paused her work, eyes lifting from the captain’s display. “How did they get in there to begin with?”

“There was a complication—”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. Take care of them while I deal with this.”

“Deal with what? Is the autopilot still on?”

“Yes.”

“You’d better turn that off or we’re in deep trouble.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Milia said. “What are you doing about the captain and his cronies?”

“Like I said, they’re locked up tight.”

“Not good enough. You need to actually finish the job. Break out a torch while I try to talk some sense into them.” She opened a comm to Gaius’s quarters. “Dash, come out now, and I promise you won’t be harmed.”

“You’re unbelievable. You just came aboard the ship, and you’re attempting a mutiny? At a major trade hub, of all places? Are you insane, or just stupid?” Dash said.

“Your crew begged me to do it. You didn’t even see it coming. And you’re trapped in a cabin with no ship hub access. Who’s stupid now?”

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“You’re going to get caught. People will ask questions if I’m gone.”

“What makes you think I’m stupid enough to stay in the system?” Milia replied.

“The autopilot is locked in. In a few minutes, you’re going to have a failed mutiny on your resume. Put down your guns, put an end to this, and I’ll let you go.”

“We’ll see about that,” Milia said, and closed the comm.

---

The door to the lounge opened. Red One stepped through first, his eyes snapping to the cleaning bot scrubbing away in the far corner. But then he saw the three men by the lounge window. Their presence wasn’t alarming—it was a lounge; people were supposed to be there—but something else about them made his skin tingle.

He noticed their reflections in the window, their hard features familiar. For a moment, he feared they were undercover SecForce. But then he recognized them as the trio of men from the plaza on Praxa Prime. The stocky one who’d jumped him and Two in the brawl in the dockyards.

One pinged his team as they filed in behind him. The three men shifted their eyes in the reflection. Then the stocky one turned, glaring at them. “Look who we have here. Back for round two?”

Heat bloomed in One’s torso, threatening to move to his face. He kept the beast in check. “Leave now, and you will not be harmed.”

The men stared back, blank expressions tinged with confidence. Men accustomed to violence. He smiled. The acolytes were used to far worse.

The tall dark man smirked. The bearded one remained unmoving. The stocky one laughed and waved a thick finger. “That’s bad manners. We were here first.”

The bearded one said, “We’re the primary contract team. I’ve received no word of another team. You’re not scaring us off.”

One didn’t know what the man spoke of, but he didn’t care. The Controller wanted the truth about the fate of the package. He would obtain it by any means necessary. He connected to the lounge hub, reserved the room, and activated privacy mode. The door locked, the security cams switched off.

“We’re doing this then?” the stocky one said.

Beside One, Red Two said, “You were given the opportunity at life. You chose to throw it away by staying here.”

The acolytes spread out in a line, facing off with the three other men. The groups sized each other up, eyeing postures and expressions, searching for tells or hints of weakness.

Outside the window, four SecForce officers strolled by. One of them noticed the opaque windows and approached. Everyone in the lounge froze, watching the officer. She bared her teeth at the window and picked at a tooth with her fingernail. Then she went back to chatting with the others—all of them standing a few meters from the lounge.

The two groups remained at a standoff.

“Guess we keep it quiet then,” the tall dark one said, and pulled out a blade. He pressed it to his lips. “Looking forward to our first kill.”

The cleaning bot beeped as it finished its deep clean work and resumed its trek around the room. The bearded one glanced at it. “If that bot finds any blood and flags SecForce—”

“Then none of us get what we want,” One said.

The stocky one cracked his knuckles. “Good old-fashioned hand to hand. This is going to be fun.”

The man with the blade looked at his weapon affectionately. “One of these days, I promise.” He sheathed the blade and adopted a fighting stance. The other two did the same.

The four acolytes crept forward. The beast stirred within One, and this time, he released it, letting the warmth erupt from his face as he closed in on the three men.

---

“This is all my fault,” Wesley said. He sulked on the deck of Gaius’s quarters, head between his legs. “I pressured you to bring her aboard. I’m so sorry, Captain.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m the captain. I made the final call,” Dash said, and checked the time. They were close to docking. He had his PD scanning for any networks he could find.

Something scratched at the top corner of the hatch. Then, a light as bright as a burning star pierced through the metal. Gaius leapt out of the way of the flakes of hot metal.

“They’re cutting through. They must’ve grabbed a torch,” Dash said.

“Will they succeed before we dock?” Wesley said.

The light moved downward at an alarming pace. “Definitely yes,” Dash said. “We can’t let them take us. If she’s serious about this mutiny, she’ll likely threaten to shoot one of you to make me unlock navigation.” He examined the compartment up and down, then opened the local copy of the ship’s schematics on his PD. He pointed to the corner where Wesley stood. “Right there, we can drop down onto deck C. Then we can hold out in the main airlock.”

“You don’t happen to store a torch in your bunk, do you?” Wesley asked Gaius.

“Of course not. Who has a torch under their bed?” Gaius said.

“I might have an alternate solution,” Dash said, and held up Betsy.

“Oh, that is a bad idea.”

“I know, but we don’t have a choice,” Dash said. “You two get in the bunk and close it up.”

Wesley stooped to climb in, but Gaius slid in ahead. “Giving me the outside, I see. How polite,” said the medtech.

“Not really. If this goes bad, he’ll have a layer of protection,” Dash said.

Wesley looked at Gaius, who grinned sheepishly. Dash shoved the medtech inside. “Snuggle up tight. Get ready to move as soon as this opens,” he said, and closed the bunk.

Dash stuffed himself inside the locker as much as he could. He aimed Betsy at the deck in the far corner and fired.

The thunderous impact reverberated in the small compartment. He heard the faint cries of the ops crew outside. The deck glowed red hot where the charged plasma round had vaporized a chunk the size of his hand. He fired three more times, then surveyed the damage.

Wisps of smoke drifted to the ceiling and collected like miniature clouds. He stepped out from behind the locker door and approached the damaged deck. One swift leg stomp, and the piece broke free and fell to deck C.

“We’re clear,” Dash said, and opened the bunk. The medtech and pilot spilled out and stared in awe at the deck. Dash grabbed Gaius by the elbow, ushering him to the hole. “Go!”

The pilot eyed the dimensions warily, tucked his arms in tight, and dropped through the opening. He hit the deck, fell onto his side, and let out a groan.

“Clear below!” Dash said, and pulled Wesley into position.

“Yeah, thanks, I’m fine!” Gaius said, still groaning as he scrambled out of the way.

Someone pounded on the hatch. “Go!” Dash said to Wesley. The medtech dropped and landed with surprising grace.

The hatch shuddered as it was forced open. Without looking back, Dash jumped. He landed with bent knees in a controlled fall as he’d learned to do all those years ago—though it didn’t stop his legs from aching at the impact.

“Move it, Cap!” Gaius said, and pulled at his arm. Dash stumbled to his feet and followed the others down the passageway. His heart pounded ferociously, lungs straining with each desperate stride. Angry voices echoed in the corridor behind them.

The corridor dead-ended at an intersection. They turned the corner and burst into the cargo bay. Sprinting between several pallets of unprocessed junk rock—leftovers they’d taken from Praxa Prime—they reached the opposite side, and slipped into the main airlock.

Dash opened the inner airlock hatch, and they slipped inside, watching on the display as the station—their salvation—drew closer.

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