Ashkelon Station: In Orbit of GL382

07/22/2183

Within the hellish interior of Dizzy's club, Keren and her sister made their way crawling beside the wall to an open doorway entering a short hallway. There they stood with Keren pulling her along to Dizzy's office door. Within, a large decorative fish tank provided a diffused cool light still functioning on its own independent backup power supply. Once inside, Keren hugged Sheren close. Her younger sisters sobs returned sharply. She started to speak but Keren cut her off, “Listen! Those commandos are here to take us in for questioning.”

“What? Why?!” Sheren asked her eyes bubbling with tears.

“Doesn't matter. We'll figure that out after we get out of here.”

“We can't get out!” Sheren exclaimed.

“Yes we can!” Keren insisted, pulling away from Sheren to move behind Dizzy's desk. Beneath the wheels of his office chair was an opaque laminate sheet. She moved both aside to reveal a portion of floor decking cut out to make a trap door. She hooked her fingers into two holes to pull it up. It was heavy but no trouble at all for Keren's lean-muscled arms.

Beneath the plate was a dark hole leading down into a maintenance crawl way about a meter below. Keren knew it well. The crawl way was one of her favorite places to explore when she was a child. Dizzy used the passage on occasion to hide or smuggle contraband in and out of the club. She found it long ago when her father used to leave her unattended in this office. A small battery powered headlamp hung beneath the top edge at easy reach.

“What is that?” Sheren asked nervously stepping over to peer downwards.

“It's our way out!” Keren said gesturing quickly for Sheren to go down first.

Sheren hesitated but obliged taking hold of Kerens hands as she lowered her down between bundles of cables, pipes and strands of wiring. From the corner of her eye Keren noticed a familiar photo of her father framed on Dizzy's desk. How dearly she wished he was here right now! He would know exactly what to do. When Sheren's toes touched the metal grating on the crawlway floor Keren released her placing the headlight directly into the palm of one of her hands.

“Wait for me here!” Keren said pulling away quickly before Sheren could grab for her. Sheren objected with a voice that was half a cry and half a squeal. Keren ignored her. I have to check on Dizzy! Keren thought rushing back out of the office.

When she peered back into the club the sounds of gunfire had calmed. Keren could speak Chinese fluently so she had no trouble overhearing the commandos shouting back and forth over the cries of the wounded. Their commander shouted loudest of all attempting to regain control over the situation and ascertain the condition of her men.

Besides flashing tactical lights, the only light entering the club at this point came through tinted portholes on the front doors and the large view ports overlooking space dock. Floodlights angled from different levels of Ashkelon station shined brightly against the hull of the CSCS Kowloon outside. Yet very little of that light actually penetrated through the view ports, heavily tinted as they were against solar radiation. Whatever Dizzy did to kill the power evidently also disabled the emergency backup lighting.

Keren didn't waste time, falling quickly again to all fours crawling directly behind the bar. She found Dizzy sprawled out, leaned back in a slouched position, his burgundy/purple velvet shirt soaked wet with blood. Oh No! Keren cried out inwardly, though in truth she already knew what to expect. She saw how fast the Lt. Cmdr drew her pistol. There was no way she would miss at point-blank range. Somehow however, Dizzy was still breathing.

“Keren!” He whispered.

She moved close, ignoring the blood on his hands as he reached up to caress her cheek.

“You need to find your father,” He said in half a croak. “He's working with the Triad.”

“What?!” Keren exclaimed her voice choking.

“Look for his picture on my desk, he...” Dizzy paused, clenching his teeth as he coughed up blood. The act of speaking caused him a great deal of pain.

Keren felt the pang of tears welling up inside her, but also anger.

“Do you have a light?” He asked in a weakened tone.

Keren noticed now that his other hand held a bottle with a rag stuffed in the top.

“I cant let them take me alive,” he sighed.

Keren pressed her lighter into his hand, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. She spun away quickly moving on the balls of her feet keeping her head as low as possible. As she reached the end of the bar the hard muzzle of an AK-4047 pressed down against the side of her head.

“Down on your face!” The commando spat leaning over the bar beside her. As Keren heard the flick-flick of the lighter behind her she reached up quick as lightning to grab the end of the rifle yanking it up and away from her. The muzzles hot steel singed her palm. She ignored it, holding firm as the commando reacted by yanking back hard. He had the advantage of having both hands on the weapon, along with the supporting strap wrapped around his shoulder. Keren didn't struggle to keep hold of it. Instead she released it at the precise moment he put the most effort into pulling it away.

The commando swayed on his feet, off balance, putting one foot back to steady himself. That was all the opportunity she needed. Keren grabbed a bottle on the bar and swung it with all her strength against the side of his jaw. She felt the fracture of bone and shattering of teeth. Groaning the commando pulled the trigger on reflex, though his rifle was still pointed high above her head.

At such close proximity the pulse rifle burst was both blinding and deafening. Keren ducked and bolted towards the open doorway as every eye in the club was drawn to the shots. Tactical lights swung to focus on the bar just as Dizzy rose to his feet like an apparition with a crazed grimace on his face.

“Fàngxià tā!” The Lt. Cmdr shouted whirling around lifting her hand to point at Dizzy, her pistol was still drawn. Dizzy hurled his flaming Molotov-cocktail directly at her feet the instant the rest of the commando's pulled their triggers. Keren reached the safety of the hallway not at instant too soon. The Lt. Cmdr screamed, consumed by a fireball just as Dizzy was ripped apart by a hundred rounds. The entire bar and most of the bottles of his inventory were broken apart along with him. He was counting on that. No sooner had he fallen than the lighter he left lit on the floor burst the bar aflame.

_ _ _

Reese started moving the moment the fire began, grabbing Wade's pant leg with a jerk he grunted, “Lets go!”

As artificial gravity was still in effect, Reese expected the water-based chemical foam extinguishers on the ceiling to activate immediately. Even without power they should react. Strangely they did not allowing the fire to spread and burn hotter with every passing moment. On his feet now, Reese rushed towards the pressure doors. Getting those open was now of upmost priority.

Normally these sorts of automatic pressure doors should permit themselves to be forced open without power, yet, by the failed efforts of the commando's outside Reese could tell this was not the case. Only in the event of an explosive decompression were those doors supposed to automatically seal themselves.

“We need to find the mechanical override!” Reese shouted as Wade ran up to his side. Quick on their heels others were already starting to panic.

“OPEN IT!” they yelled. Reese felt a hand yank on his wounded shoulder. He clenched his teeth and threw back his elbow. Someones nose crunched.

Wade felt around the frame of the pressure door for the emergency override panel. Funny how you can walk through the same door a hundred times but never remember what it looked like in the dark.

“Got it!” Wade blurted just as someone shoved hard into his back. Wade felt his forehead slam against the frame. For a moment he was knocked dizzy.

Reese turned around and leaned forward against the throng. “Better hurry!” He shouted.

Wade steadied himself and opened the emergency panel. Inside was a simple fold-out hand-crank. He cranked on the mechanism with all his strength but nothing budged.

“It's jammed!” he shouted.

Behind them the light of the flames grew ever larger and brighter illuminating the club well enough to see were it not for so much smoke billowing up to the ceiling, spreading out to the edges and curling back down in a choking haze. Reese felt the smoke stinging against his eyes and throat. Suddenly there was was more shouting in Chinese. Some of the commandos and innocent people had the good sense to start grabbing for the auxiliary hand held extinguishers mounted in cabinets on the walls. There were only a few available, and only one operated properly on a full charge. It was not enough.

The rest of the commando's were pushing and shoving their way towards the door as well. Most unkindly. Any second now Reese imagined they would start mowing everyone down. It wouldn't matter. Not even an AK-4047 could blast through a solid bulkhead pressure door. Any compartment with exterior view ports into space was required to have one. Similar safety mechanisms were designed into the stations air ventilation systems. They were all poorly maintained and the better part of a hundred years old.

Reese turned and reached for the crank himself. Wade was right it was jammed, but Reese pulled much harder. He could feel something inside the mechanism resisting. Fists, kicks and elbows started raining down on the pair of them. Reese grimaced, sweat beading on his forehead. His wounded shoulder burned and bled as he exerted himself to the upmost. Finally with a groan of protest and grinding metal, the manual crank started to turn.

Even when it functioned properly, the crank was slow, cracking the doors open by mere centimeters for every full rotation. Reese had to use the strength of four men to make it move at all.

“FASTER!” People shouted. Reese kept turning, huffing and panting just as the smoke started to make everyone cough. Through the widening crack between the doors Wade could see a gathering crowd on the other side. With all the shooting and screaming, people were starting to notice something was seriously wrong. And yet, Executor still had not sounded any sort of general alarm?! The commandos outside slid their hands into the gap and pulled against the doors as Reese kept turning. It wasn't much help but it was something. A minute passed and Reese was near ready to collapse. More shoving, shouting and cursing. Reese felt the barrel of a pulse riffle up against his spine.

“Keep going!” A voice ordered. Do or die time! Reese cursed inwardly throwing his full weight against the handle again, and again, and again. Smoke poured out of the doorway into the corridor outside. Smoke detectors in the ventilation systems reacted. Alarms and flashing lights started to go off. When the doors appeared to open enough to squeeze through, the commando with the rifle ordered him to step aside. Reese ignored him. It wasn't open nearly enough, especially for himself. He kept turning.

The commando cracked the butt of his rifle against Reese's ribs. Reese fell down to one knee his face contorted with pain. The commando pulled the rifle butt back again as if to slam it up against the back of his skull. Wade pulled Reese's automatic out of his vest pocket and pointed it directly at his face. Instantly the man froze.

“BACK OFF!” Wade shouted with rage.

The commando obeyed, eyes widening. The other commando's leveled their rifles at the pair of them but it made little difference.

“Almost there man!” Wade coaxed Reese, “A few more turns and its time for that drink!”

“HELP US! HURRY UP!” the crowd behind echoed.

Reese pulled himself up, his vision blurring, the voices around him oddly hollow. He was in shock but he knew what he had to do. As he pulled on the handle again he felt indescribable pain. His ribs were broken. He fell down to his knees again, but this time he couldn't get up. Several other people outside started to aid the commando's shoving and pulling against the doors from the other side. It was no use. The air was hot and almost impossible to breath.

Suddenly there was more shouting in Chinese, but this time it was from outside in the corridor. One by one the hands in the door seam pulled away. Moments later a lithe, beautiful woman in a designer suit appeared before the doorway, her expression concerned and intense. As the smoke billowed towards her face she sucked in a deep breath, leaned forward and reached up with both hands, attempting to pull apart both doors simultaneously. Her eyes shut by reflex to avoid the sting of the smoke. For a moment her brows furrowed as she summoned all the strength she could muster. Amazingly, the manual-override handle spun with ease as the doors were immediately forced open.

Shocked expressions crossed over everyone's features. Is she a synthetic?! Wade thought to himself, familiar with such technology from his stint in the Colonial Marines.

_ _ _

Keren snatched the framed picture of her father off Dizzy's desk before she clambered down into the crawl way as quickly as she could manage. Sheren was crouched below her, still sobbing, hugging her knees to her chest. Her work uniform was just a skirt and a blouse. The headlight Keren handed her was on but clutched in her hand. “How is Dizzy?” She asked in a hesitant, shaken voice.

“Dizzy's gone,” Keren stated mournfully.

Sheren's lips quivered as she noticed the framed photograph in Keren's hand. Odd though it was, she didn't comment on it until Keren suddenly smashed the frame against a pipe prompting a gasp and flinch. Keren picked through the shattered glass fragments to pull the photo out. Behind it was a folded sheet of paper. She stuffed both into her jacket pocket without comment as Sheren stared.

“This way!” Keren said taking the headlight away from Sheren and affixing it around her brow. Together they crawled along the grating with bare knees. Moving without speaking, alone with their own horrified thoughts and questions. It didn't help how maddening and confusing the whole situation was. None of it made any sense!

Keren knew the crawl ways well but she had difficulty making up her mind where to go. Heading back to her quarters seemed a foolish notion indeed. It was very likely where the commando's would go next, if they weren't there already. Dizzy's quarters were next on her mind, which was also a bad idea for similar reasons. Her last idea was boarding a shuttle headed planet side. There would be refuge among her mothers family there to be sure, but the last thing she wanted was to put anyone else in danger. Were she by herself, Keren would feel much better. Sheren was not prepared for this. Guo never trained her to fight and survive. Keren was incredibly uncomfortable with that responsibility in her hands.

Priorities were clear. Keren needed to get Sheren to safety, but how? Assuming ICSC security was not part of the search efforts there was still a chance she could get Sheren unto a shuttle. In that case, they should hurry. Shuttles came up and down from the planet regularly, at least every hour or so. Some were specific for carrying cargo, live animals, raw materials or people, but most could accommodate a mix of all-the-above. Last minute passengers could usually squeeze aboard for a small bribe. Those wishing to ignore an ID check could sometimes do so for an even larger bribe. Or so she had heard.

Several shuttle ports were in use around the station, besides those set apart exclusively for corporate use. She led them towards one of the busiest, seedier shuttle ports on the station. The one beside the so-called 'street market' that imitated those of old-world Shanghai. Or so she had heard. It was on the same level as Dizzy's club so they didn't have to exit the crawl ways just yet.

“Do you have any cash on you?” Keren asked, pausing to look over her shoulder.

Sheren blinked, her face pale and slack in the harsh light of the headlight shining into her eyes. She was out of it. Keren noted her knees were bruising, scraped and bleeding. She couldn't keep this up for much longer.

“Just tips... my purse is still in my locker,” Sheren answered meekly.

“Let me see what you have?” Keren asked.

Sheren reached into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt and produced a small handful of folded, crumpled, bills.

Keren took them and removed her own wallet from her jacket pocket. She never took up the habit of carrying a purse. Adding up all their cash netted $265 in a mix of Three World Empire (3WE) Yen and United American (UA) dollars. The original CSC and the newer ICSC weren't large enough, yet, to create their own currency.

“There's enough money here for a shuttle ticket. If we hurry we can get you off the station before they find us,” Keren stated.

“What about you?!”

“I'll come along after. First I need to get to the bottom of this.”

Sheren shook her head pleadingly, “There has to be another way? Why can't we just go report this to security?”

Keren sighed, “Those were Jĭngtì Lóng Commando's. They carry bigger guns last I checked.”

Sheren glared, “Damn it! They don't have the right! We're civilians and we've done nothing wrong!”

Keren frowned. There was no question about that, but in the big picture, member worlds, colonies, outposts and space stations allied with the ICSC were all beholden to private corporate military oversight. The CSCS Kowloon and all the other ships in the fleet were touted as a defense force, and only as a defense force, but there were always rumors to the contrary.

Much of the time, Dizzy's Club was full of space-truckers, colonists, roughnecks and pilots of every variety. Men and women who braved the expanse of space for a living heard and saw things network news never reported. Out here on the trailward edge of the Outer Rim Territories, anything could happen. Tragedies such as the loss of Sevastopol station and an entire colony on LV-426 were yet to be solved. Keren spent enough time around ships crews and old-timers to learn some things were dangerous to talk about. Primary among them, were the lack of ethics and alleged illegal activities of interstellar corporate powers.

“It's not that simple Sheren,” Keren argued, attempting to speak gently and keep the frustration, or was it fear? Out of her voice. “We can't trust anyone until we know what's going on.”

“This is bullshit!” Sheren spat back heatedly.

“No argument here,” Keren smirked, happy to see some energy in her younger sister again. Anger was more useful than self-pity.

_ _ _

As soon as the doors opened the woman stepped aside allowing Reese, Wade and the rest of the survivors to pour out into the corridor in a mass-panic. Such a scene of chaos was a rare thing. Reese collapsed against the side of the corridor, only a few meters from the door. Desperate to take in deep breaths, yet unable to bear the pain in his ribs from the effort. His vision washed in and out of focus. It was all he could do to stay conscious, but he was determined to remain alert and observe everything going on. More than anything he wanted to understand who was responsible for this and why?!

Many of the survivors wanted to keep on running once they emerged but they were quickly stopped by another group of twelve commando's. Six on either end of the corridor with rifles leveled. Some of those strong enough, and brave enough to go back inside attempted to carry out more wounded and did their best to save more lives. Wade was one of the first to charge back into the smoke, but it was no use. He couldn't see anything so he retreated back to stand by Reese, coughing heavily.

At one point the woman in the business suit appeared ready to go into the smoke after him, before a stern voice called out, “That's enough Catherine!” from the opposite end of the corridor as Reese and Wade, just behind the line of commandos.

Wade turned to get a good look at him. Standing five foot nine, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit with a light medium build the man was clearly Chinese, at least forty years of age, possibly older. His hair was longer and fuller than the military cuts of the commando's, combed back easily and unpretentiously. He had the look of an executive. Someone of great importance. A fact reinforced by the four bodyguards standing around him holding short-stock carbine versions of AK-4047 pulse rifles.

Catherine frowned, her aqua-blue eyes glaring back at him. There was defiance there. Wade could see it. She was no synthetic. Her suit was dark blue, unlike her superiors (and those of his bodyguards) which were all black. Hers was also much tighter around the shoulders, thighs and hips accentuating her perfectly fit physique in a much lighter fabric. She was young, perhaps twenty five, standing five foot eight with thick, highlighted brown hair cut just below her jawline. Both her and the executive carried a bright-red-over-white pin of an orchid flower on their breast lapels.

“Come here,” the man ordered in a more fatherly tone, still speaking English as there was clearly no blood relation. By the rosy, warm hue of her skin and the classic look of her facial features Wade would guess Catherine was European. Either Irish or British? She obeyed, stiffly, moving to his side before crossing her arms with irritation bordering on disgust.

Of the thirteen commandos that entered Dizzy's club, only seven had emerged. A few of those were seriously wounded with gunshot wounds. Another was howling and groaning in agony, half his face puffed up and bruising. The executive overlooked them all with evident disappointment and frustration. For him this was plainly just a setback. He was not the least bit angry or shocked. His persona was more pragmatic, or else, he simply didn't care how many commando's had died. He only cared how badly they failed.

If I thought I'd get away with it I'd put one between your eyes right now pal! Wade cursed inwardly fingering Reese's automatic tucked in the back waistline of his jeans.

By now, just a couple minutes after the doors were opened, emergency fire crews, medics and security personnel were converging on the scene.