Andy, standing behind Bache, realised he didn’t have time to initiate his DOVI and neutralise the officer’s weapon. He’d have to do something divergent. Suddenly dropping to the floor and convulsing was the only thing he could think of in the time frame. It worked though.
‘What the hell’s wrong with him?’ asked the fat man, grimacing at the writhing figure on the ground.
‘Severe allergy,’ said Bache, shrugging and looking suitably apologetic.
‘To what?’
‘Corrupt and treasonous illegal arms manufacturers,’ said Andy, miraculously recovering and standing back up, clutching his own weapon.
The fat man sneered and pulled the trigger.
‘What the fuck?’ he blurted, as the pistol emitted a faint grunting noise and a puff of smoke.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Bache.
‘What rotten luck,’ said Andy, hearing Groxl chuckling behind him.
‘I never thought I’d ever be glad of those bloody DOVI things you have,’ he said, patting Andy on the back. ‘Good ploy.’
While this was going on, one of the two operators had slowly slid across his seat and stretched his arm up towards a red button protruding from the wall. Xutan, who was nearest, swung his rifle up and jabbed the muzzle in the operator’s ear.
‘Go right ahead, motherfucker,’ he growled.
The operator retracted his arm like it had been stung as everyone else in the room glanced at Xutan with raised eyebrows. He noticed the attention and grinned.
‘Always wanted to say that,’ he said. ‘Especially in the council chamber when someone’s being overly aggressive.’
‘You did it very convincingly, Mr President,’ said Andy. ‘Scared me to death, honest.’
Xutan puffed out his chest and beamed.
After searching them, they gathered the four together in a small office at the back with only one door. Groxl melted the lock with his rifle to ensure they stayed there.
It became very quiet once they turned all the machinery off. The constant shuck shuck shuck had become almost white noise and now it was gone the silence seemed a little eerie.
They filed through the manufacturing hall, following the process to where the powdercake was packaged.
‘Isn’t this just a little bit dangerous?’ said Andy, eyeing the pallet-loads of what reminded him of cement sacks.
‘It has to be injected with a catalyst to actuate the explosive,’ said Bache. ‘Then you need to treat it with a bit of care. This stuff you could throw on the fire and it would just burn and spit like a soft wood log.’
Xutan gave Bache a sly sideways glance.
‘You seem to be very conversant with illegal substances,’ he said, a slight smile crossing his lips.
‘I did a dissertation on explosive yields during my engineering course,’ Bache replied. ‘You want a bang, I’m your man.’
‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ said Andy, getting a few chuckles from the group.
‘Worked a treat,’ said Bache, looking nostalgic. ‘Especially with girls on Deelatayne.’
‘This will all need to be destroyed though,’ said Xutan, returning the conversation to a serious note.
‘It will,’ said Bache. ‘But first we’ve got to be able to get off this thing and for that we need a ship.’
‘There’s an airlock over here that goes out to a docking tunnel,’ called Phil, from the far end of the cavern. ‘It must be where they load the powdercake onto a ship.’
‘Is there a ship docked?’ Andy asked.
‘Can’t see – it’s dark in there.’
They all joined Phil and had a peek through the small porthole on the airlock.
‘Can’t tell if it’s pressurised either,’ said Bache. ‘You can just see the outer door, so we know it’s closed, but not if it’s sealed or what’s beyond it. The controls are just winding handles. Everyone hang onto something just in case, I’m going to open the inner door and if it starts sucking, I’ll close it up again.’
They all grabbed hold of some of the attached racking and when Andy peered around to check everyone was ready, gave him the thumbs up.
Only a slight hiss sounded when he wound the red handle and cracked the seal. He continued until there was enough room for someone to squeeze through. Andy stepped up and peeked inside just to check it was empty.
‘I’m the skinniest,’ he said. ‘I’ll go. Seal me in and I’ll crack the outer door just a squeak and see if there’s a ship beyond.’
‘Doesn’t matter if there’s a ship or not if there’s no docking tunnel,’ said Phil. ‘None of us have got suits.’
‘There must be some form of emergency evacuation for the workers here and I haven’t seen any lifeboat signs,’ said Phil.
‘It’s an illegal arms manufacturing site,’ said Bache. ‘I don’t think adhering to GDA workplace health and well-being regulations was top of the list.’
Andy squeezed inside and nodded at Bache through the porthole. He watched as the inner door slowly slid closed, before turning his attention to the red winding handle for the outer door that was on the opposite side to the inner one. It was locked solid and even putting his whole weight behind it failed to make it move.
‘Turn it the other way, dummy,’ said Bache’s muffled voice from inside. ‘The doors are reversed. You’re supposed to be an engineer.’
‘Yeah, yeah – ha, ha,’ grumbled Andy, finding the handle did in fact turn the other way.
It turned a little more easily than he expected, the door cracked suddenly and a gale of wind sucked through. He immediately reversed the rotation for a moment, until he realised the wind howling through the small gap was in his face and breathable.
‘Shit, the tunnel’s pressurised higher than in here,’ he said to himself.
It quickly equalised and the draught lessened and finally stopped. He continued turning until there was enough gap for him to pass through, but narrow enough if he needed to close it in a hurry. He gave Bache the thumbs up through the porthole and stepped through into the darkness, waiting a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
The docking tunnel was like the corridors in the complex, double width to allow the auto trundles to pass in both directions when loading a ship. There were three of them parked inside, stacked high with the pallets they used for the powdercake sacks.
As he walked past the first of these an armoured hand grabbed his collar and dragged him behind and against the pallet stack. He swore and grabbed the arm, trying to tear himself free.
‘Do not resist,’ said an emotionless metallic voice. ‘Identify yourself.’
Andy stared into the faceplate of the armoured figure. Apart from some faint green reversed text scrolling across the inside of the visor, he could make out nothing of the human inside. Movement in his peripheral vision caused him to glance left. Another armoured marine had moved into view, covering him with its arm weapons.
‘Identify yourself,’ the second suit’s similar voice repeated.
‘The man on the moon,’ said Andy, as a flat green laser light emitted from the marine’s helmet scanned his face.
‘Incorrect,’ the metallic voice continued. ‘You are Andrew Faux from Earth in the Sol system, crew from the starship Gabriel. Are the rest of your group with you?’
‘They went on holiday,’ he said.
‘Please come with us,’ the second suit said.
‘Like I have a choice?’ Andy mumbled, as they half dragged, half carried him away up the tunnel, away from the open airlock.