Starpiercer: Sunlight's Edge

CHAPTER: XVIII: TOMAS IX

XVIII
TOMAS IX

"You think we won't dust the lot of you?" demanded Sarsid. The Tralfarian lieutenant was mag-locked by his boot and one knee-plate as he knelt behind Captain Colemon's acceleration chair, the barrel of his maser rifle pointed over the armrest at the door. "You fire one shot, your friends here get the same."

Tomas tried not to piss his voidsuit. He was floating in the middle of the room, hands out to his sides, with the barrel of one of the naval infantrymen's masers pointed directly at his head. He'd never been a hostage before. It was absolutely terrifying. Voidsuits automatically recycle urine. He remembered. It's better to piss now. Tomas let flow. It felt nice. One last piss before it all went dark, maybe. He was amazed at how he felt both bowel-watering terror and a peaceful sense of calm at the same time. Probably some mix of a euphoric attack and a panic attack. At least he could figure out the mindset he'd probably die in. The Fear that lurked in the back of his mind had taken on a voice now. Evolve or die. Adapt or fade.

"You won't do it," growled Carcosa. The salvage chief was hiding behind the door's edge. "You kill them, we lock you in here and vent the atmosphere."

"We have voidsuits, idiot," snarled one of the Tralfarian soldiers. Despite the monotone-sound of the voice filtration, Tomas could hear the frustration and terror in the man's voice. It was a situation as old as time. Primates threatening one another. Shaking sticks and hooting, but with more song and dance. And in a little tin box with nothing but empty eternity surrounding them. He wondered if the masers would peirce the hull. Combat masers. Designed not to cause interior damage, but capable of it when cooked to high power. He wanted to tell the voice that his fear had become to shut up. When had he learned that? It wasn't anything he'd read.

Now that he thought about it, the situation was a little different than just angry primates. There was a Yovian involved.

Roolu was with Carcosa, it seemed. The alien would periodically demand that everyone come to their senses, but it had also said it had a pistol too, so who the hell knew. Tomas wondered if Yovians had done this sort of posturing and threat displays when they were evolving too. Probably not. Supposedly, their species had been genetically engineered. Shaped by the Elder Peoples. Still, some of that animal impulse to resort to violence that it seemed that every species but Svivren still clung to was there.

"He is Correct," observed the Yovian's voice. "However, we could simply detach the bridge module and allow it to be crushed by the asteroid behind us."

Sarsid's rifle wavered a centimeter. "Even if you kill us, we've got a covering ship. It'll blast this whole flying scrap heap into atoms."

"Yeah, I doubt they know about your situation," shot back Carcosa from outside the bridge. "Thing about working with 'terrorists', you learn some tricks. Like how to jury-rig a radio jammer. But I figure you already knew you can't call your friends, so nice bluff, buddy."

Tomas hadn't had time to properly adjust his drift as he'd lunged out of the way when Carcosa had started shouting for the Tralfarians to drop their masers. He spun in the air ever so slowly, getting a three hundred and sixty degree view of the insane situation. Obviously, the Tralfarians hadn't dropped their weapons. Instead, two of them had trained their masers on Tomas and Dessia, who was still trapped in her chair. One of the naval infantrymen had their rifle a centimeter from her head, even though it put him where he could be shot easily. Tomas wondered if those hardsuits would stop the slugs. Probably not. Carcosa's maser looked like it packed a lot of power. Flashfyre type Four pistol. Manufactured by Hecutor arms. Overcooked it provides enough power to- "Shut up," he growled under his breath. The alien, personified fear slunk down into the back of his thoughts again. No one had heard him. Great. I'm going insane.