Nathan Hystad - The Survivors - Books 1-3

“C ome on, I have to use the bathroom!” Nick called to the guards on the other side of the door. It had only been an hour, but we weren’t going to sit around waiting for them to convince themselves to dispose of us.

Clare must have sensed that Nick wasn’t getting anywhere, so she went to join him. Maybe a woman in need would pull on their macho soldier hearts.

“Me too. I can’t go in here. Don’t you guys have any compassion?” she asked, layering in a thick sad tone to her voice.

After a minute or two, the door slid open, and a guard motioned for them to step through. It was tough to see, but even from across the room, I spotted the glint of the screw as Nick placed it at the base of the door, feigning tying up his shoe in front of the guards.

We hadn’t been counting on two of ours getting separated, but it was in motion now, and we couldn’t turn back. Slate was already moving for the door, which had slid shut but not all the way, as the six-inch-long screw stopped it from sealing so that it wasn’t locked. Clare had seen the blueprints on the original station plans, back on Earth at the base she’d spent a year working at. These doors had almost a faux lock; a precautionary thing for safety, not really meant to keep anyone in. Only prison cells would have the real locks that would alert someone if the door wasn’t sealed properly.

“Two guards, minimum, had to go with them. It looked like we only had three or four watching us, so I say we all go, swing the ship back, and grab the other two,” I said to Mary and Slate, the only others left in the room with me.

Slate nodded, gun already in his hand. I wished I’d seen this coming, because the knife in my grip didn’t give me the confidence a pulse pistol would have.

Slate stood at the door, three fingers raised. He lowered them one by one, and when his count was at zero, he gripped the handle and pulled it inward with a grunt. It slid open, and two guards were there, talking between themselves.

Before they could react, Mary was on one of them, disarming him and pointing her gun to his head. “Drop it,” she told the other one, and I bent down, picking up the pulse rifle from the ground.

“Do it!” I called to the last guard still holding his weapon. He lowered it, letting go, the metal clanging on the floor. “Mics,” I said, holding my left hand out. They looked at one another, and the smaller of the two took an earpiece out and set it in my hand. The other guy followed suit. “Thank you. So you know, we are the Heroes of Earth, and when this all shakes out, come down to the surface and I’ll buy you a beer.”

They looked at us, wide-eyed. “I told you it was them,” the smaller one said, grinning as we led them into the room we’d recently vacated.

Slate pulled the screw from the door jamb, and we left, locking them in.

“Let’s go before the other guards come back,” I said, wishing we had Clare and Nick with us. Even though we had a plan, leaving anyone behind was a chance I didn’t want to take.

We knew the way back, since we’d walked these very halls over an hour ago. Foot traffic was nonexistent; I wondered how many people lived on the station, and what exactly it was they did up here. I hoped I’d eventually learn the answer.

“This way,” Slate said as we heard footsteps coming from down the hall. We ducked into a side room, the door sliding shut as the steps reached us. We waited in the dark as the sound echoed away from us. My heart was hammering in my chest, and Mary had gripped my hand, a gesture of worry and comfort.

“Let’s go,” I said, heading back into the hall. The one good thing about function over fashion was that we could hear anyone coming from a hundred feet away on the metal floors. Twice more, we ducked into empty rooms before continuing on our way, soon making it back to the hangar. As we paused in the hall leading to the docking station, alarms blared loudly, getting the attention of the guards lingering inside the large room.

One of the guards held his hand to his earpiece, trying to hear commands over the noise, and he pointed to the door we were standing near. The three of us ran the other way, turning in time to see the guards from the hangar heading down the hall, toward the room we’d escaped from.

“Time to shine,” Mary said, rushing back to the hangar. There were only a couple guards left in the room, the rest likely sent to assist in searching for us. Mary ignored them and ran straight for our ship, which still had the ramp lowered. I followed her while Slate threw some covering fire at the guards’ feet and made for one of the other ships docked inside the hangar.

The guards didn’t even have time to fire back, which was a good thing. We had no intention of killing anyone today. They were doing what they were told, like any good soldiers.

Our feet clanged on the ramp, and I hit the button as I entered the storage area on our ship. Slate was still firing, and I caught a glimpse of green light emanating around him as he lifted into one of their ships. I still hadn’t seen a guard fire at us.

“Time to go!” I yelled as Mary ran to the bridge, firing up the engines.

Our viewscreen showed Slate’s ship leaving, erratically flying like a madman. We followed him out, and when he went left, we went right, back toward the middle of the station. It was only moments later that two ships came after us, but Slate was on them, firing at their shields, making more of a show of it than actually trying to harm them. It was enough of a distraction that the two ships focused on him rather than us.

“Come in, Clare,” I said after slipping my comm-device in my ear. The sound crackled, and as I thought they might not have been able to conceal the earpieces, her small voice came through.

“Dean, we’re down the hall in an office, about a hundred yards down from the room we were in. I can’t talk, they…” Her voice cut out.

“We’re coming now. Be ready.”

There was no reply as I told Mary the directions. When we thought we were above the section of the station they were in, I told Clare to activate the pins. The energy changed slightly in the room, and I ran to the storage room where the beam drive sat. Clare entered, and she was crying.

“They spotted it right before you came. Nick’s still down there,” she exclaimed.

“This complicates things,” I said, wondering if we should head to the surface now and hope we could deal with getting Nick back after. It might be the smartest move, but I hated the thought of leaving one of us behind. There were too many unknowns.

“That’s not going to matter, because you’re all going back,” a voice said, coming from the far side of the ship where the rooms sat. The black-haired man in the suit emerged from the dim hall, gun pointed at us, a sideways grin covering half his face.

The training Slate had engrained in us over the last few months took over, and I assessed the situation. For now, I would keep him talking.

“Find anything you like, or were you having a nap?” I asked, my voice level.

A flicker of annoyance passed his eyes before he smiled again. “Those quick to joke are covering their own insecurities.”

I wasn’t sure if he was quoting someone or just making up something stupid and irrelevant, but I played along.

“I heard that men who wear suits all the time are covering their own soft desk-job bodies.” I shrugged, and he raised his gun, this time pointing it at me.

“Dean, are we good?” Mary called through the ship’s intercom system.

“Tell her to join us back here,” the man ordered me.

I shook my head. “Why would I do that?”

He moved the gun to the side, firing at Clare, who saw it coming and rolled out of the way. “Because if you don’t, I’ll kill this one.” He fired again, but Clare was already pulling her own gun from the strap on her leg. She shot the man as his beam struck her in the arm.