Crossing the Darkness Page 3

  Far more bothersome than the dreams was his physical response to the possibility of violence. There were the pounding headaches, the outbreaks of nervous perspiration and of course the shakes, which robbed him of a skill he once prided himself on, the ability to hit a moving target from 300 feet without batting an eye. He was a former sharpshooter who now could not even hold his gun straight, much less hit a virtual perp on a police target range.

  One of his training officers back at the academy had once cautioned that the job liked to chew up cops and spit them out. Sure enough, today Harker was washed up, burnt out, useless, just another statistic. Broken cops were a dime a dozen.

  At first he had hoped it would pass. Everyone seemed so reassuring and understanding. He had lost a partner, a man he had come to respect, love and count on. One couldn’t expect to remain untouched after a brush with the violence the city offered its less fortunate denizens on a daily basis. Four weeks later, however, Harker resigned just 10 months shy of his retirement. He had turned his back on a job he once lived for.

  For months he drifted, living off his unemployment payments, until he came across an ad on one of the newsfeeds that turned his life in a new direction. Surprisingly enough, he found himself willing to travel millions of miles to start a new life as a head of security for the Argos mining station. With a colony population of 3,000, it was a far cry from the slums of Los Angeles that had become a Third World state controlled by warring drug gangs.

  Harker’s plans for the future had come crashing down the moment he woke from cryo and realized he might be in for the fight of his life, a battle he would expect to wage back home, not aboard a ship drifting through the quiet darkness of space.

  Harker arrived back on the bridge and shifted his focus from the past to the problem at hand. The colonists were engaged in a heated exchange. He shot a quick look at Angus, the handsome young mining tech who had stood up for Faith. On some level, Harker didn’t hold it against him. Her character might be questionable, but there was no denying that Faith was a striking woman. Ten years earlier Harker might have reacted in much the same manner. However, his years in global security had taught him that a pretty smile could hide a dark intent. Trust didn’t come easy nowadays.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked Angus.

  The younger man pointed at Michelle, the female colonist who had earlier gone off on Faith. From the moment they were introduced Harker had immediately sensed that Michelle might become a problem. Sometimes he hated being right.

  “This lady is losing it,” Angus said. “She’s accusing us of being part of a conspiracy.”

  Harker shifted his attention to Michelle. Her eyes were wild, hands shaking as they clawed the armrest of the captain’s chair. Under the best of circumstances, waking from cryo could be accompanied by bouts of paranoia. Some people had strange reactions to the hibernation gases. Michelle was clearly experiencing a breakdown of some kind.

  “I know it’s hard, but you have to pull yourself together and try to relax.”

  “Relax? I don’t see you looking relaxed. We’ve lost five years of our lives! Five years!”

  He sighed. The lady was coming unglued. Harker wasn’t known as a patient man and he fought back the urge to raise his voice. His people skills had never been great and he wished his old partner was here to help out. Harker was the bad cop to Mark’s good cop, the yin to his yang. Harker slapped suspects around, Mark sweet-talked them into making a confession.

  “We’re 300 million miles away from Earth and the crew who was supposed to be flying this vessel is missing.”

  “Missing? Why don’t you just come out and say it? They’re dead!”

  Harker was tempted to snap back that she was right, that they were all completely fucked, but he somehow maintained his cool. Michelle glared at him and to his pleasant surprise, she stopped talking, tears welling up in her eyes. Thank God for small miracles.

  “Are you going to be a problem?” Harker asked.

  The woman glared at Harker but held her tongue. He was relieved when one of the male colonists, a young kid with a mature expression and a nametag that identified him as Brian, put his arm around the crying woman and took her aside.

  “What’s our next move?” Angus asked.

  Good question.

  “If the lady was telling the truth, Peterson’s murderer is still aboard this ship. Which means he is able to block our bio-scans.”

  Harker didn’t know what sort of technology would allow an assassin to remain invisible during a bio-sweep, but he knew there must be a way. For every security measure there was always a counter measure. Harker was about to throw out a halfhearted theory when a shrill whirring sound burst from the comm panel. Everyone flinched as the disconcerting noise caught them off guard.

  “What is that?” Michelle gasped, unable to mask her wide-eyed panic.

  Harker shook his head. It sounded like a jackhammer or power drill.

  “Computer, identify the sound and tell me where it’s coming from.”

  “The sound is emanating from cargo deck six. Someone has activated an asteroid mining drill. Security cams have been shut down. I am currently unable to provide a visual.”

  The computer’s voice was silenced as one of the screens flickered to life. It showed an overhead shot of a massive steel vehicle that resembled a tank. Instead of a cannon, a giant drill bit extended from the nose of the vehicle. The tip was spinning with blinding speed and the sharp sound it made was already grating on Harker’s nerves.

  “I thought the cams were down,” Angus said.

  “Looks like the killer hacked the feed.”

  “Why? What is he doing?”

  “Playing games,” Harker said in a grim voice. He took a step closer to the holo-terminal, his penetrating gaze scanning the security feed. He could vaguely make out a strange shape resting on top of the asteroid mining vehicle. He was trying to determine what he was looking at when the camera zeroed in on the object in question, almost as if whoever was in charge of the security feed had read his mind. The new image made everyone on the bridge gasp. Angus took a shocked step back.

  Splayed on the roof of the cargo crate was Peterson’s mauled corpse. Etched in blood around his head like a bloody halo was a chilling message: “Come and get me!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HARKER, FLANKED BY three of the colonists, emerged from an elevator and stepped onto the cargo deck. The group held their pulse guns up and ready. The earsplitting sound of the spinning asteroid drill made them grit their teeth and they tried to ignore the sound as best they could.

  Angus and two other colonists had volunteered to join Harker in the search for the killer. On his right stood Rhona, a black female with less body fat and more muscle than most guys Harker had ever known. Bringing up the rear was Norris, barrel-chested and slightly overweight despite the years spent in cryo, but his bulk allowed him to project a sense of power and physical authority.

  “Stay close together,” Harker said. “Don't be a hero and don't do anything stupid.”

  Everyone nodded. Harker and the colonists fanned out. The shadow-cloaked cargo deck awaited them.

  Rhona took the lead and strode past a series of crates, eyes alert and gun sweeping, finger resting lightly on the trigger. As she searched the pools of shadow around her, she took in the giant asteroid drill. The drill bit was spinning with enough speed and power to bore through tons of asteroid rock. There was no sign of whoever had switched on the device.

  As Rhona took a step closer she felt a rush of movement behind her. She pivoted just in time for the incoming laser bullet to pierce her forehead. The pulse beam destroyed and cauterized at the same time, leaving a small, perfect hole in its wake. For a moment Rhona stood there, dead, before she collapsed to the cargo deck.

  Harker saw Rhona go down and reacted immediately. He brought up his pulse gun and caught a glimpse of a powerful male silhouette vanishing among the crates. Before he could return fire, three seari
ng beams of energy ripped through Norris’ chest and the man went down in a heap of smoking flesh, a shocked expression etched into his now lifeless features.

  After the second casualty, all hell broke loose. Harker could see Angus’ terror-stricken face as he tore off into the shadows of the cargo deck. Harker wanted to shout out after him, urging the young man to stay put, but at this point everyone was on their own. They’d walked into an ambush. How could he have been so stupid? The answer was simple. Once again, he had underestimated the enemy, feeling secure in their greater numbers, but four colonists were no match for the trained killer they were up against.

  As if to confirm the thought, sizzling beams of energy slammed into the crate next to Harker’s head. He burst into motion, bringing up his firearm and unleashing cover fire into the cargo area. He made a sharp right and slipped between crates, the hiss of laser bullets following his escape into the darkness.

  ***

  Angus was hauling ass, driven by mortal fear. He tore past a series of crates, navigated around a four-wheeled mining vehicle and headed for the open doorway ahead of him. Death was closing in, and Angus had no illusions about the possibility that the blaster in his quivering hand could ward off his murderous pursuer. The gun seemed too small and ineffectual against this spectral opponent. His sole option was to find a place to hide, pray for the best and with any luck, let the worst of it blow over.

  Entering the chamber beyond the cargo deck, he took a few tentative steps and went still. An unexpected sight awaited him: a series of high-tech operating tables dominated the large space. Banks of pulsating computer consoles surrounded them. Phosphorescent blue and green lights flashed on the sides of sophisticated operating hubs designed for the most cutting-edge surgeries. Angus realized he stood inside a lab of some kind. Polished metal glittered in the multi-colored light.

  Despite the danger, Angus slowed his gait, eyes wide as he took in the surreal surroundings. Why was there top-of-the-line medical technology aboard the Orion? Angus might be just another worker drone, but he knew enough to realize this lab wasn’t standard equipment on a C-class mining vessel.

  Before he could give the matter further thought, the door through which he had entered slid shut behind him, plunging the lab into an eerie half-light. There was no sign of a living soul around him but, instinctively, Angus sensed he was no longer alone. An irrational part of him wanted to call out, but he curbed the impulse. Instead, he kept his gun up and advanced while his eyes scanned his surroundings.

  From the corner of his eye, Angus caught a flicker of movement. Silhouetted against the blue-red lights of the surgical tables was a human-shaped presence. The killer just stood there, malevolence given shape, and waited for Angus to make a move. He seemed to have all the patience in the world.

  A sound behind Angus made him whirl and he felt a surge of fear as, one by one, the overhead lights burst into life. Another row of operating hubs stood revealed in the light and each table held a terrible bounty. Human beings were laid out on the surgical steel, secured by iron bands. Each of the men and women sprawled before him were naked. Some patients lying in pools of cold blood were missing limbs and eyes. All were dead. This wasn’t an operating room. It was an abattoir.

  Angus let out a dry gasp, his legs shaking as his pulse raced. The sight had hit him so hard that, for an instant, he lost track of the stranger who had pursued him into this chamber of horrors. It was a costly mistake.

  Angus heard the killer’s sudden footstep — how could he move so fast? A shadow fell over his face. He whirled… too late. A hand tightened around Angus’ neck and lifted all 220 pounds of him off the ground. For a moment he struggled, arms flailing, legs kicking out madly, while only choked and wheezing sounds escaped from his throat. The pressure was cutting off the oxygen to Angus’ brain. The black dots dancing in his field of vision grew larger until there was only blackness. His struggles finally ceased and his head lolled back.

  As if making a sacrifice to some deity of medical technology, the massive silhouette deposited Angus’ body on an operating table. This medical altar immediately hummed to life, restraints firing from either side of the table and wrapping themselves around the prone man’s limbs and neck. The killer stood there for a moment before melting back into the darkness.

  ***

  As Harker peered around the corner of a cargo crate, he could feel the knots of muscle on the side of his face pulsing with apprehension. He clutched his gun so tightly that his tendons stood out. They were up against a formidable enemy, and he had serious doubts about his chances were he to face the killer on his own. He hoped with all his heart that Angus had managed to escape the madman’s clutches. His best move would be to alert the bridge, but he knew his voice might carry across the cargo deck and give away his position.

  Sudden footsteps brought an abrupt halt to his panicked thoughts. He could see a shape emerge from between a row of cargo crates, the killer remaining hidden in preternatural shadow. Despite his bulk, the man moved with the stealth of a beast of prey, his movements imbued with malicious intent.

  Harker considered firing at the killer but the shape kept vanishing behind various pieces of mining equipment, ruining any chance of a clear shot. His hand was shaking, unable of keeping the weapon steady.

  He watched helplessly, unwilling to risk taking a shot in his current condition, knowing he’d miss and draw a lethal response in return. The massive, unknown entity stepped into an elevator and the closing doors erased him from view.

  Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Harker popped out of his hiding place and rushed toward the lift. “Computer, where is that elevator headed?”

  “The upper deck.”

  Harker wasn’t surprised. The killer was making a go for the bridge.

  “Identify the person in the elevator.” He waited for a moment before the computer responded. “Unable to verify identity,” the soft-spoken voice informed him.

  Harker considered this. It was impossible. Everyone aboard the Orion underwent a series of comprehensive biometric scans. The computers should be able to extract a detailed identity profile from the elevator’s security feed. Either they were dealing with a stowaway, which seemed unlikely considering the 3,000 cams positioned all over the vessel, or the killer had found some clever way to outsmart the system. What were they up against?

  Harker activated his comlink, doing his best to not sound panicked as he spoke. “Gilardi, this is Harker. The man who took out the crew is headed for the bridge!”

  For a split second, he thought he could hear someone answering on the other end but the voice broke up, devoured by a crackle of spitting static, and the line went dead. A second later, Angus’ pitiful scream filled the cargo deck.

  It was the bone-chilling sound of a man being tortured to death.

  ***

  On the command bridge, Gilardi was trying to reach Harker.

  Michelle shot him a nervous look. “What's going on down there?”

  “I don't know. I had Harker on the line for a second, but I just lost contact with him.”

  “What do you mean, you lost contact?” Michelle said, her terror coming through loud and clear.

  Before Gilardi could retort, the door to the bridge whooshed open. All eyes turned toward the new arrival. Their curiosity was met with cruel fire as bursts of a laser scalded the bridge and instantly found their human targets.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FAITH STUDIED HER tiny cell. Once again, she was a prisoner. She was still reeling from the rough treatment she had received back on the bridge. It had served as a sharp reminder that her criminal deeds would continue to cast a large shadow no matter where she went or how many millions of miles she put between herself and her past. She was tainted, damaged goods, an untrustworthy ex-con just waiting to relapse to her old ways.

  With nothing else to occupy herself, Faith played the hologram of the little girl she had never gotten to know. She knew the soothing image held the power to lull her
into a trancelike state until sleep would overcome her. It was a habit she had picked up in prison. When her world turned to shit, the image of the smiling girl served as a digital talisman able to ward off any dark thoughts and hold the real world at bay. Unfortunately, this time the image of the little girl failed to calm her. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Every time the child’s lips playfully crinkled, she could see Marcus in the little girl, Marcus who’d been dead for ten years, Marcus whom she had loved like no other man before or since.

  She met him the way so many couples first connected, at a bar. Marcus was drinking by himself, bombed but somehow making it looking good. He radiated a wild, untamed air of danger, reinforced by the tattoos etched into his sinewy arms and confirmed by the dark expression on his face. Nevertheless, there was a forlorn, broken quality to his empty stare in which Faith recognized a part of herself. The world knew Marcus as a tough customer you didn’t want to cross, a career criminal who wouldn’t shy away from using violence to get what he wanted. Faith saw beneath his exterior, where there were still remnants of a wounded, frightened boy who never had a chance. It was a silent understanding between them, an instinctive knowledge of where they came from and where they might be headed.

  Faith was immediately drawn to him. That night, she took Marcus back to her room at the rundown capsule motel she had called home since ditching her step-father’s apartment. They’d both been too drunk to make love and instead just lay in each other’s arms. From the start, Faith felt a connection like none she had experienced before.