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  Jack gave the signal for his squad to advance, then he turned to the agent. “Would you like me to go ahead, Special Agent?”

  Special Agent Kitt nodded and with the outstretched hand, she offered Jack to lead on.

  “Not before me,” Sam said and pushed ahead of Jack. He drew his pistol from his hip holster and held it in front of him, the butt of the pistol cupped in his left hand.

  Jack drew his own pulse pistol and checked that it was primed and ready to fire. He slid it back into his holster and marched down the boarding ramp ahead of Special Agent Kitt.

  The supply deck of the civilian transport was not as orderly as the Marine deck on the Scepter or any of the fleet’s Marine hangers. Although there was very little equipment here to truly clutter the space, somehow it looked untidy. Both marked and unmarked crates lay in haphazard stacks. Some were open, the contents half taken out and spilling out on the deck.

  Although there was clutter, there was one thing missing that surprised Jack.

  “Why is it deserted? There should be someone here,” Jack said quietly to Special Agent Kitt.

  She looked around the deserted deck, folding her arms across her chest and taking a deep breath. Immediately, Jack could see she was falling. She toppled forward, landing on one knee with her hand outstretched to stop her falling face first to the deck.

  Jack caught Special Agent Kitt as she fell, and then Jack felt himself succumb to a sudden bout of dizziness and nausea.

  The air was bad.

  Osho stepped over to Jack.

  “We are detecting Dox vapor in the atmosphere, sir. We need to get you out of here.”

  Jack nodded and escorted Special Agent Kitt back into the cruiser followed by Sam. Once inside, Jack rushed to the flight deck and set the atmosphere scrubbers on the cruiser to clear the air inside. He started to breathe more easily, but with a headache that made him feel like he’d been kicked in the head.

  Special Agent Kitt started to regain her strength. Sam Torent looked angry.

  “Do you think the Dox vapor is for us?” Sam said.

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Beretta is here, and we are going to get him.”

  He stepped back into the lounge, avoiding the open boarding ramp, and sent a message to Osho.

  “Create a perimeter around the cruiser, Squad Leader,” Jack said. “I’m going to find the ship’s emergency breathing apparatus and I’ll join you in a moment.”

  The Marine responded with a silent reply that appeared on Jack’s wrist-mounted holostage. Jack went to the rear storage cabinet. A civilian ship would always have some basic emergency equipment. He hoped this cruiser was properly equipped.

  Pulling open the cabinet, Jack found a set of simple breathers for the cruiser’s full passenger capacity. Although this was a private craft, it was designed to carry up to eight people in comfort. Jack grabbed three of the breathers and carried them to the forward section. He tossed one to Sam, who immediately fit it over his nose and mouth. Sam stepped over to Special Agent Kitt, who was on the floor breathing heavily and struggling to get rid of the Dox vapor that had entered her system. Jack pressed the breather over her nose and mouth.

  “Breathe deeply, Special Agent.” Jack held a hand on her back and pressed the mask into place.

  “Thank you,” Kitt said. She started to breathe more easily and then climbed up to her feet. She drew her pulse pistol from her hip holster and started toward the ramp down to the hangar. Although still slightly unsteady, she was regaining her strength quickly.

  “With me, Jack,” she said.

  Jack turned to Sam. Sam was smiling and tipping his head towards Special Agent Kitt.

  “She’s a pocket battleship all right,” Sam said. “Do you think she needs any backup on this mission?”

  Jack patted Sam on the shoulder and then shoved him towards the hatch.

  “We all need backup from time to time, Sam,” Jack said, then followed him down to the hangar deck and into the Dox-filled atmosphere of the civilian transport.

  Somewhere in this vast vessel, Beretta was up to something, and the Dox vapor was only the start of his nasty tricks. Jack was not going to be beaten this easily.

  Stepping back down onto the boarding platform where the mixed squad was waiting, Jack looked proudly at the Marines who stood at attention in a group. The enforcers fell in either side of Special Agent Kitt. Sam and Jack stood in front of the Marine squad and waited for Kitt to deliver her orders.

  “We are here to apprehend Lou Beretta,” Kitt said, showing no lingering effects of the Dox vapor she had inhaled. “He is eluding our sensors and has deactivated his ident chip, so we will isolate his bio signal and close in on him. I want him taken alive.”

  The landing bay was empty save for their group. The silence was eerie for such a huge space, like being alone in an empty city. A distant noise caught Jack’s ear. A rumbling and roaring, rising and falling like waves crashing on a beach. Then Jack thought it sounded more like a hundred bowling balls rolling down an alley. The noise died away again and then came back like a growling, like an animal in the distance.

  The sound died away to be replaced by the ambient noise of the vast ship. A thousand systems still in operation all rumbled in the background of the vast city-sized transport. Jack turned to Sam.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Sam nodded, a slightly bemused look on his face, difficult to take for one usually so certain of everything.

  “Is there something you want to add, Major?” Kitt said.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Jack said, but then he heard the distant noise growing again, closer this time. He looked out over to the open interior doors to the white, brightly lit corridors beyond. Something was coming this way, and it was getting close.

  The noise died away. Jack pointed to two of his Marines.

  “Send micro-drones now,” Jack said, pointing to the open door. The huge opening was large enough to drive a supply truck into the main corridors of the civilian transport. The two Marines picked the micro-drones from their tactical suit webbing vest and released them into the air. The two tiny drones, flashing their brilliant white location beacon, raced off towards the open hangar doorway, each taking a different route away from the landing pad.

  Jack walked over to Special Agent Kitt, his right hand held in front of him as he looked at the display on his wrist-mounted holostage. He tapped the controls and accessed the surveillance data being relayed by the micro-drones. He looked up at Kitt as she activated her own holostage.

  Then the noise rose up again, a rumbling, thundering, deep guttural growling with occasional shrieks. It rose and faded, but always came back.

  Sam steadied the squad of Marines as Jack conferred with Special Agent Kitt.

  And then the micro-drones discovered the source of the noise.

  The image on Jack’s holostage stunned him for a moment. The corridor was filled with a horde of writhing civilians. They poured forward at a pace that varied from a light jog to a fast walk, surging forward along the corridor a dozen across and a hundred deep. Jack zoomed in on the image and isolated a single individual.

  The individual was foaming at the mouth, thin rivulets of light red blood streamed away from the nostrils. The eyes were bloodshot. The skin pale and ghostly. Mouths wide open, eyes wide open, and hands clawing their way forward.

  Special Agent Kitt accessed the ship’s address system via her wrist-mounted holostage and issued her commands over the corridor speakers to the group of civilians coming forward at pace.

  “This is Fleet Intelligence Special Agent Kitt to the civilian group. You are required to stop and return to your cabins.”

  Hearing Kitt’s instruction echo along the distant corridor, Jack watched the horde on his holostage. They appeared to take no notice of the instructions issued to them. In fact, they appeared to quicken the pace.

  “Stand to, Marines,” Jack said, turning away from the agent. “Form a li
ne. Set your pulse rifles to low power. Low pulse only. They are coming through the interior hatchway any minute now.”

  Sam Torent repeated the order and mustered the squad to adopt the position Jack had ordered. Jack turned back to Special Agent Kitt.

  “Your enforcers should join my Marines in the line, Special Agent, unless you intend to abandon our position.”

  Special Agent Kitt was still staring at the image on her holostage. She looked up at Jack clearly unsettled.

  “Enforcers,” Kitt said, “join the Marine line.” Kitt walked to stand behind the Marines. She pulled her pistol and checked the weapon. She looked up at Jack. “I think this is more your area of expertise, Major. Take command.”

  Jack checked the position of the civilian horde on his holostage, but the noise from the corridor told him everything he needed to know. They were only a moment away.

  “Stand by, pick your targets, and fire at will. Hold them.”

  And then the horde burst around the edge of the internal hangar door and came rushing across the vast empty landing pad towards the small line.

  Jack took aim and fired.

  7

  The first civilians came tumbling onto the landing pad, and the Marines opened fire. The low pulse rounds slammed into the civilians, dropping them into quivering heaps. The civilians behind seemed to grow even wilder as they poured in, trampling over those who had fallen in front of them.

  “Maintain fire,” Sam called. He stepped up to the edge of the line, his pulse pistol held out in front of him and laying down a rapid stream of rounds.

  The sound of the horde was as worrying as the sight of several hundred crazed individuals pouring forward, their intentions completely unknown. It seemed unlikely they were a welcome wagon for the mixed squad that had boarded their ship.

  Jack walked behind the line of Marines, noting with satisfaction that the horde was being slowed. Only a few now remained, clambering unsteadily and awkwardly over those who had been dropped, and within a moment, all were down.

  Jack walked toward the nearest civilian—a young man who had been the last to be dropped. He lay on the ground, eyes wild and staring, his mouth still foaming and body quivering slightly while the low pulse round wreaked havoc on his nervous system.

  Leaning down and checking the young man’s pulse, Jack satisfied himself that the victim was disabled but alive. The effects of a low pulse round on an unarmored civilian would incapacitate the individual for up to an hour.

  Sam and Kitt came alongside Jack. Sam checked another individual.

  “They’re all out for the count, Jack,” Sam said, “but what the krav got into them?”

  “You allow your subordinate to use your first name?” Kitt said, looking up at Jack with a disapproving expression.

  Jack ignored Kitt’s remark. He was sampling the air and running an analysis through his wrist-mounted holostage. “This Dox vapor is not the same as the one the Devex used on us. Someone has tried to recreate it and they’ve nearly got it right. I’m betting it didn’t put them all to sleep but made them into, well, this.” Jack waved at the quivering, slumbering horde on the deck.

  “Who could do this?” Sam asked.

  But Jack knew Beretta was more than capable of doing this.

  “We need to report a medical emergency to the fleet,” he said, stepping back from the helpless and hopeless mass of civilians.

  “This is a clandestine mission, Jack,” Kitt said. “We proceed as such. We just need to locate Lou Beretta.”

  Jack knew the best place to look for Beretta now was the place where he could best take command of the entire ship.

  “We should check the command deck,” Jack said. “I’ll bet you my pulse pistol that’s where he is. We need to move fast, though.”

  “Agreed,” she replied.

  Jack was impressed by Kitt. She understood the importance of taking the command deck and she had no arrogance about her like so many other Fleet Intelligence agents. He nodded.

  “The enforcers will take point,” Kitt said and waved her two black-clad enforcers forward.

  “Let’s move,” Jack said to Sam, who relayed it to the Marines, and they all moved off along the smooth white corridors of the transport’s supply deck. It was a long way to the command deck, but using the transport loops would give away their position.

  They had to move hard and fast.

  The old chemist watched the horde of civilians on the small holostage in his laboratory workshop as they ran wild through the ship. His young assistant was scrolling through holofiles of the Dox vapor synthesis procedure looking for the error. Beretta’s associate stood in the corner of the workshop, unconcerned by the scientists and their panic.

  “They are going crazy out there. Mr. Beretta wanted us to put them to sleep, not have them all charging around like maniacs,” the old chemist said, his smooth hand scratching his rough stubble-covered chin. “We have to find the problem, and quick.”

  “I am looking through everything,” the young assistant said. “It should be just the same as the Devex Dox vapor.”

  “It’s clearly not the same as the Devex Dox vapor.” The old chemist turned on his assistant and threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Have you seen them down there? We have got about twenty percent of the population of this transport running around like wild animals. Mr. Beretta wanted them asleep! I’m not going to tell him that everything is just the same, when it clearly isn’t.”

  The young assistant sat back in his chair in a moody sulk, his hands across his chest. “Well, you look through everything. I’ve gone through every scrap of data. If you think you can find an assistant who can do a better job than me then I wish you luck. We spent days analyzing that sample, and even more days recreating the chemistry. I told you we needed to take longer to synthesize all the Dox vapor Beretta wanted!”

  “It’s Mr. Beretta to you,” the old chemist said with a nervous glance at the huge thug in the corner of the laboratory as he walked over to the holofiles. He scrolled through on his own, looking for any anomaly in the procedure.

  And then the call from Beretta sounded on the holostage. The old chemist looked at his assistant. The assistant felt the blood drain from his face.

  “He’ll want to hear it from you,” the assistant said, his voice shaking.

  The old chemist walked over to the small holostage. Lou Beretta appeared, his holoimage only a head and shoulders on the small stage.

  “Mr. Beretta, I can see the problem. We are working our hardest down here sort out this situation. We can have a new batch, a better batch, and have it through the atmosphere in an hour.”

  The young assistant shot a look at the old chemist. He mouthed the words, “One hour?”

  “Listen to me,” Beretta said. His calm voice was as frightening as any horde of wild civilians. “Have you seen what they’re doing out there? They are going crazy.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Beretta,” the old chemist said, his voice cracking under the strain.

  “I don’t know what you’ve done, but I want you to cook up a new strain of Dox vapor, and I want you to make sure that you get everyone running around in that crazed state. Do you think you can do that?”

  The old chemist felt his heart stop and he stood gaping. He looked across to his assistant, who was similarly stunned.

  “Did you hear me? Are you going to make me repeat myself? Can you do that again?”

  “Yes, sir. Yes, Mr. Beretta, sir. A new batch. Absolutely. Running around like crazy. Of course, sir.”

  Beretta leaned back in the chair and looked across the command deck. The central holostage showed him the image of the civilian transport. Red dots on the green line diagram of the ship showed him the locations of the crazed civilian hordes. Inset was the image of the old chemist, looking nervous. Beretta wanted him focused and calm.

  “Take your time and get it right, but don’t take too long. Do you understand me?”

  Sounds in the background from th
e laboratory drew the old chemist’s attention and he looked away. It sounded like doors sliding open.

  The old chemist called out in panic.

  “No! Get out. Lock the door.”

  Beretta leaned toward the holoimage as a wild civilian came into the holoimage field and fell onto the old chemist. The chemist held up his hands to fend off his attacker. The civilian’s eyes were wide and red, their mouth foaming, and they tore into the old chemist tooth and nail.

  The thug in the corner drew a pistol and fired at the civilians, killing several before more came pouring in and slammed into him, pressing him to the deck. Another couple of pistol shots rang out and then stopped.

  Beretta zoomed out the image to show him the entire workshop. More civilians were pouring through the open door and falling onto the old chemist. The young assistant was backing away and throwing laboratory glassware at the wild-eyed civilians who came lumbering forward. They grabbed at his face and his neck and tumbled to the floor. Beretta smiled to himself as he saw the laboratory fill with a mass of crazed civilians.

  “Well, that’s annoying,” Beretta said as he canceled the holocall. “I guess we’ll have to find another science team to cook up that spoiled version of the Dox vapor.”

  Beretta returned the main holostage to show the outline of the civilian transport. Thousands of civilians filled kilometer after kilometer of corridor space, and the red hazy blobs showed where the civilians roamed in crazed bands. And there, at one location, Beretta spotted a small group that were not registering with any civilian ident chips. They were moving out of the secondary supply hangar.

  Instinctively, Beretta knew this was a group moving against him. He zoomed in using the security sensor grid and immediately saw the two black-clad Fleet Intelligence enforcers moving ahead of a group of Marines in tactical suits. Behind them, two Marine officers and a Fleet Intelligence agent followed, the three of them wearing emergency breathing masks.

  Beretta tapped away on the command chair’s armrest console and identified all the sealable hatches on the ship’s security systems. He began to seal the hatches behind the small group, far enough behind so they didn’t hear and realize their retreat was being cut off. Then Beretta sealed the hatchways ahead of several groups of crazed civilian hordes.