Fatal Containment

Fatal Containment - Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Dominion shuttle one descended onto the rocky surface of the small moon, its thrusters kicking up a cloud of dust as it parked a hundred meters from where shuttle two had been seized. As the thrustors went silent, the shuttle doors opened, and Owen and Connor stepped out, their eyes scanning the barren landscape. As the thick moon dust settled, in the distance they could see a makeshift outpost, a collection of metal structures that served as the base for the mercenaries.

A team of ten marines filed out and accompanied the two officers as they made their way to the outpost.

Robert Wölfflin was waiting for them. His scarred face was cold and calculating. He wore a long, dark coat that billowed in the moon's weak gravity.

"Welcome, gentlemen," Robert greeted, his voice echoing in the thin atmosphere. "As you might expect, we don't get many guests here. But we are not without our amenities."

Owen's gaze was steely. "I want to see my lieutenant. I need to know she's unharmed."

Robert nodded to two of his soldiers. They disappeared into one of the structures and returned moments later with Cheryl. She looked tired but unharmed. Connor's heart clenched at the sight of her.

"Cheryl," Connor called out, but Owen raised a hand to forestall any rash action on the part of his first officer.

She looked up and gave him a weak smile. "I'm okay, captain."

Robert gestured to a pavilion set up nearby. "Shall we discuss the terms of our agreement, Owen? I've taken the liberty of drawing up a small contract—to keep us both honest men."

"Wait!" Tyrell bellowed, coming from the pavilion. "You need to know if the captain can deliver on his promise."

"In what way," Owen said, standing his ground next to his XO.

"You promised this mercenary a 'working copy' of the project. We all know that is a bluff, captain."

"Is it?" Owen countered.

"Your tablet is connected a rapidly dissipating cloud of photons captain," Tyrell scoffed, his arms folded. "Without Sandy, we won't be able to find another one for centuries."

"She completed the master-equation, Tyrell. Didn't she tell you?"

"You lie!" Tyrell's face was red, pointing at the captain in anger. "Yes, she was close, but she would have told me if she had achieved that."

Owen turned to his XO with a smile. As he returned his gaze to Tyrell, he said, "I have a certain chief engineer that has a way with the ladies and their secrets," Owen chuckled.

Connor knew he was talking about Trevor, so he smiled despite himself. Owen turned back to Tyler.

"And I possess the equation now."

"Gentlemen," Robert gently chided both men. "We'll all know the truth soon enough. Come, let us all be friends and seal our arrangement with a drink."

Robert led Owen and Connor to a tent with a collection of crates and barrels serving as tables and chairs. He picked up a bottle of some unidentifiable liquor and poured three glasses. He held one out to Owen.

Owen started to enter the tent as Connor reached out, his hand closing around Owen's forearm. "Captain, this is a trap. You can't seriously be considering—"

And in that moment, the captain allowed his uniform jacket to open just a bit showing Connor that Dr. Spinoza had strapped enough Byrozium to his chest to blow a building in half.

"But, sir—"

Owen smiled andgently laid his hand on Connor's and said, his gaze steady. "I need you to trust me, number one. I've left nothing to chance."

Connor looked at him for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. He released Owen's arm and stepped back.

Owen walked over and took the glass from Robert and raised it in a toast. "To new arrangements," he echoed, then downed the drink in one gulp. It burned going down, but Owen didn't flinch.

Robert laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "I like your spirit, Owen. I think we're going to get along just fine."

Owen set his glass down and met Robert's gaze. "Let's get this over with, then. Release Cheryl, and I'm in."

Robert studied him for a moment, then shook his head. "Not so fast, Owen. Cheryl stays with us until I can be sure you truly have the master-equation. I'm sure my new friend Tyrell can confirm it."

Tyrell shook his head vigorously.

Owen's gaze hardened. "You have my word."

"Your word isn't enough," Robert replied, a predatory smile on his face. "I've played cards enough to recognize a good bluff when I see one," Robert said, lifting his glass to commend the captain on an excellent ruse.

"Then I should like to see your face when I lay down my cards," Owen countered, lifting his own glass to salute his estranged friend.

* * *

Outside the bar, Captain Jacques Pierre Beauchêne and his operators were moving stealthily behind the building where Cheryl was being held. They had the advantage of knowing her exact location, the terrain map, and the guard formations based on the real-time intelligence she had shared, and now they were ready to strike.

With a hand signal, Jacques sent two of his men to silently creep up on the perimeter guards. The now unconscious guards were lowered to the ground with swift, precise movements. One of the mercenaries at the building entrance managed to let out a cry of alarm before he was silenced, but by then it was too late. Jacques' men had the initiative and the element of surprise was on their side.

Hearing the alarm, Connor left the tent and sprinted for the shuttle. A battle had broken out between the marines and the mercenaries, but Jacques' team was well-trained and knew their jobs. They fought with a ferocity and skill that these mercenaries simply couldn't match.

Under cover of diversions and counter attacks, two marines managed to break Cheryl out of custody. She was shaken but unharmed, and she clung to them as they raced back towards the shuttle, their first objective to get her to the shuttle so she could evac.

As he reached the shuttle, Connor was pinned down in a firefight of his own. Robert had directed his team to secure Cheryl while he kept his own firearm trained on Owen and Tyrell, not liking one bit the cards Owen was placing on the table. His mercenaries were still fighting, but it was clear they did not have the advantage of a carefully planned attack.

A marine sniper began clearing the congestion as he silenced target after target in metronome precision. Finally, with a cloud of dust, the marine operators in their war paint delivered Cheryl to the shuttle and she was roughly thrust inside, the men now working to make a hole for their fellows to rejoin.

With grim satisfaction, Connor climbed into the shuttle, and initiated the launch sequence. The marines now switched to their second objective, recapturing the shuttle that Cheryl had flown, originally transporting Tyrell back to the Dominion. After all, it would be a shame to leave good imperial hardware to these mercenaries.

In a fit of rage, Robert turned to Owen as he shouted orders at his men just in time to see Owen finish off a second glass, smile broadly, and press the hidden button strapped to his wrist.

As the shuttle lifted off, an explosion rocked the outpost, sending debris and cargo everywhere at the same time, giving the marines another diversion to achieve their second objective. If Robert had survived, he would have seen the battlefield smile Captain Jacques Pierre Beauchêne rendered as the last of his men loaded up in shuttle two.