Issue 13 - Ray Gun Revival

The Price of Conquest, by Mik Wilkens Pg. 3
“Aye, sir.” The lieutenant called three men to
him and started toward the closed door into the
ship.
Closed? Kressa looked again. The door had
been open a moment earlier. Clearly, Connie had
taken it upon herself to close it. And now she took
it upon herself to defend it as well.
The bay’s overhead turret swung to bear on
the four men.
“Halt!” the computer said in a toneless
mechanical voice that bore no resemblance to
the way she normally spoke.
The soldiers froze.
“Your friends trying to be funny?” the leader
asked Kressa.
She shook her head and fought to control her
racing heart.
“They must not think too much of you. Think
they’ll put away the gun and open that door if I
turn Perst here loose on you?” He gestured to the
man guarding her.
Kressa shot an anxious look at Perst, caught
his eager grin, and returned her gaze to the Patrol
leader. “There’s no one on board.”
“Oh? We’ve been watching this ship since
it landed. We didn’t see anyone leave. Are you
saying the crew just vanished?”
Kressa bit her lip. They would find out soon
enough on their own. “I am the crew.”
“You fly this big old ship all by yourself?” he
asked with an overplayed look of amazement.
She nodded.
His expression turned mean. “Then who’s
playing the games with the gun?”
“It’s an automatic defense system.”
“Yeah? Shut it off.”
Kressa considered the consequences of disobeying.
If she resisted, it would give the Patrol
something to hold her on, then they would bring
in equipment to overcome Connie’s defenses.
She preferred to keep her name off any Patty
records and keep both computer and ship in one
piece. Besides, she had searched the freighter
thoroughly enough to know the soldiers would
find nothing incriminating on board. Once they
assured themselves of that, they would leave her
alone and go on about their business. I hope.
“Connie, let them in.”
The turret retracted and the door opened.
“Perst, keep an eye on wonder-pilot here,” the
leader said. “I want to talk with her later.” He
moved off to speak with a pair of soldiers manhandling
a heavy piece of sensing equipment
around the bay.
For several long minutes, Kressa stood under
Perst’s alert gaze as the others swarmed through
the bay, opening shipping crates and prying into
corners.
“Captain! I’ve got something here.” The call
came from one of the men operating the sensor
machine. He pointed to the doors that formed
the boarding ramp. “The readings are coming
from there, sir. Strong, too. I’m picking up several
hundred energy signatures.”
“There must be a panel there,” the leader said,
his voice rising with anticipation. “Get it open.”
Four men carrying magnetic releasers
and prying tools hurried forward and began
loosening the thick metal plates that covered the
inner surface of the bay doors. Kressa watched
in dubious wonder as the soldiers dragged the
heavy plates aside, revealing hidden compartments.
Half of the compartments were empty,
but the others held dozens of narrow plasteel
shipping crates, each about a meter long.
Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 13, January 01, 2007