Shattered Salvation, CH 47 (Patreon)

Tristan shoved things out of the cabinet in his search, careless of where they ended up. He’d already found the nutrient bars and had devoured a full box, but while hunger was a problem, it wasn’t the one he was looking to solve. The virus was burning more than just nutrients out of him. To heal him, it was stealing his energy and, after the fight, he was feeling its effect.

It explained why he was so erratic, he’d decided. The need for sleep. If he could sleep he’d be better. Unfortunately, he couldn’t sleep; there was still too much left to do. He certainly wasn’t closing his eyes while that biochemist could roam around, or while Alex was awake. There was no telling what that human would do to him if given the chance; what he’d make Tristan do.

Antibiotics, Heals, immune-boosters, plasma-replacement, coagulants—did this ship have everything except stimulants? He opened another cabinet and more medical supplies went flying. In the other cabinet, he found the stimulant behind the anesthetics. “Of all the storage systems,” he cursed.

He took a box of them, checked it—for humans. He cursed, checked another, and a third. He growled. Why couldn’t they have anything formulated for Samalians? He took a vial, located an analyzer, and ran it through.

It wasn’t simply that he needed more; Samalian physiology was subtly different. The composition came up, and he read through it. He found nothing that would be harmful to him.

He put a vial in the injector and applied it against his neck. He hesitated to press the trigger. He was still infected. For all he knew, the virus would attack the stimulant as a foreign body and he’d end up being more tired, not less.

With a scream he threw the injector across the room.

“How long?” he yelled, and the woman by the fabricator twitched.

“I don’t know. Not long anymore.”

He stalked to her, and she backed away. “That’s what you said the last time.”

“It’s old, okay!” she yelled at him, hiding her fear behind the volume. “It wasn’t designed for this kind of work, and it hasn’t been calibrated in decades.”

“He wouldn’t have obtained something inferior,” Tristan growled.

“Yeah? Well, he wasn’t planning on buying anything. He was planning on using the fabricator you blew up.”

Tristan growled.

She backed away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m scared and I’m a wreck. It should be soon, it’s almost been an hour.”

With a snarl, Tristan turned and stalked around the room. When he passed by the nutrient bars, he ate one.

He was on his fourth one when the fabricator buzzed. Before she reached for the vial he was there. She screamed as she got out of the way and kept him from shoving her hard. He might need her, but she was still infected, so he didn’t have to be gentle.

“Wait!” she yelled as he looked for a new injector. “You don’t know what it’s going to do to you.” He found the drawer where the last one had been. “It was designed by a human; for all you know, it’s going to hurt you.”

He glared at her as he inserted the vial. “It isn’t attacking me, it’s attacking the virus.”

“It’s too dangerous, you can’t—” She stared at him as he injected it.

“How long until it kills the virus?” He already felt calmer.

“How should I know? It isn’t like I’ve been able to run tests on it. It isn’t like whoever designed this left an operating manual. As far as I can tell, it was designed in a hurry. I’d be surprised if anything more than virtual tests were done to ensure it would work.”

“How long?”

“I,” she began, enunciating the words, “don’t know.” She paused. “How long since you injected Alex? Considering the damage he had on him, I’d say he’s a good barometer of how long it’ll take.”

Tristan nodded. Twenty minutes? Thirty? Less than an hour. The fighting hadn’t lasted that long. “If you want the cure, you should get it started. I have plans for you, and they will start whether you are ready or not.” He pocketed a box of stimulant. Thirty minutes and he’d start using them.

He looked around the room, at the walls. No point in searching; he wouldn’t find what he wanted here. They were too far from the hull, and this manufacturer hadn’t been smart enough to realize that if people were in the medical bay, they might not be able to walk across the ship to the closest escape pod.

He cursed. He couldn’t leave her here unattended. He grabbed her arm as he headed out.

“Let go of me! I need to be here for my cure.”

“An hour,” he growled. “You can get it then.”

“What if the dead wake up?”

Tristan pulled her in front of him and glared. “Then you had better hope they don’t know what it is for, or know they need to take it, because you are not getting another one. Now walk before I decide to break your legs to justify having to carry you.”

She stayed with him, even if she almost had to run to match his pace. He found the escape pods in a port-side lounge. Anyone vitally injured in the medical bay would have died if they’d needed to escape the ship.

He had to bypass the lock on it since he didn’t have control of the ship. He wasn’t subtle; he didn’t care about alarms at this point. He ripped the cover off and connected the needed wires. By the time he was done, his fingers were burned and bleeding. He took that as a good sign, and injected himself with the stimulant.

He surveyed the inside of the pod with disdain. It had a bunk bed, was equipped with a field-stasis system, and had a food-preparation area with a high-end food printer. There was a small shower that used water, which meant there was a lot of space dedicated to storing it that could be better served storing supplies. So much luxury.

So much waste.

If he had the time, he’d strip this pod down to the bare essentials. The passengers were fortunate he didn’t.

He needed to take a gamble. Now that she knew there was a way out, now that he’d kindled her hope, he had to hope it was enough to control her.

“Go back and assemble a medical kit for you and one injured passenger.” He considered the time frame. How far were they from the client? He didn’t know. Not that it mattered; she was mobile. “It needs to last six months.”

“I’m not—”

“I don’t care!”

She backed away, and he grabbed her arm.

“You are getting a chance no one else on this ship is getting: you get to leave and live. But if you’re not going to be useful, tell me now. I’ll inject you with the cure and then snap your neck.” Hope worked best with a well-placed threat.

He let her go, and she ran. He didn’t care if she did what he’d told her or not; she knew what would happen either way. With her dead, returning his quarry would be more problematic, but still not impossible.

The first thing he disabled was the cryo system, and to be certain it couldn’t be repaired, he removed every wire involved in its functioning. He couldn’t afford for the virus to survive within its field. He reprogrammed the life-support system to scrub any and all foreign matter. He knew the virus could be detected and, therefore, eliminated. The medical bay quarantine system had registered the problem still existed when the forcefield was dropped.

He removed the emergency transponder that came with every escape pod, then he destroyed the communication system. He wasn’t risking either of them calling for an early rescue, or trying to hail a passing ship. And because of what he could do with even a basic sensor array, he destroyed that too.

As he exited the pod, the biochemist returned with a pack over each shoulder. He eyed them critically.

“I have more,” she replied defensively.

He followed her to the medical bay, considering what else he needed to do. He told her six months, so he needed a location for the client to get them that would ensure it took at least that long, even if they pushed their engines—not that Valkyrie-class ships were known for their speeds.

Six months would be enough time for the virus to be scrubbed out. He could ask her to confirm that, but he reminded himself he didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need Alex. He would go through the pod’s navigation system.

The quarry needed to be restrained. Tristan could tie him down to a bed, but then the biochemist would have to do everything for him, and she’d be tempted to release him just to make her life easier. He didn’t expect the quarry would be thanking her then. Once he was healed, he’d want someone to lash out against, and she would be the only target available.

For that reason, he couldn’t simply give him free rein of the pod, and there were areas he needed to prevent him from reaching, regardless of the situation. His quarry had proven too resourceful to be allowed even a chance of escape, but he still needed to be able to reach the shower and food-printer.

He grabbed a box of nutrient bars and ate his way through it as he headed for engineering. He froze as he stepped in. Alex had said engineering was where control of the ship had been transferred. He looked around, but saw no sign of him. He did see mercenaries stirring. He grabbed the closest gun, a Similik, and shot everyone in the head. Then he went to find out if this place had what he needed.

He found a parts fabricator in the maintenance area of the room, and a welder in the storage cabinet by it. He looked through the list of what it could do, and didn’t find what he needed. This had been a cruise ship, so a lack of restraints wasn’t surprising, but they were one of the easier things to improvise.

He settled on chains, both because this fabricator could make them, and because he had personal experience with them. His father had been fond of using them on him, those and the cage. Creating the manacles required more hands-on work, but he had all the tools here.

* * * * *

There were eleven packs lining the pod’s wall when he returned to it. The biochemist was stepping away from the pilot’s seat.

“I didn’t touch anything.”

It was a lie, but he didn’t care. There was nothing she could do, even if she had the knowledge. He let the coil of chain fall to the floor and she jumped.

“What are those?” she asked fearfully.

He unslung the welder. “Restraints.”

She ran out of the pod and he sighed. He should have mentioned they were for his quarry. Now when it was time for them to leave, he was going to have to search the ship for her. No, he’d send Alex, keep him out of his fur for a while longer.

He wished he could simply kill her, instead of having to modify an escape pod for her and his quarry. But there was no way he was spending that much time with the quarry.

He sighed.

He couldn’t wait for this job to be done and over with. To sit in his workshop, taking apart a lock in peace and quiet. To not have anyone bothe—

“Isn’t that kind of archaic?”

Tristan looked at him, in the pod’s doorway, and raised an eyebrow. He was too surprised Alex knew what this was to be angry at his presence.

“I did a job that took me…” He looked up as he tried to remember. “I don’t even remember the name. One of those back-ass places—barely any technology. They used those to hold their prisoners. Couldn’t believe the ease I escaped them considering they never even bothered taking my gun from me.”

He let a breath out. “The bridge is up and running, for what it’s worth. There’s only one console functional; there was a firefight in there. The computer’s mine to control. It tried to be an asshole about it, but I put it in time-lock. Unless you need the ship to do something unusual, everything’s going to be fine.”

Tristan caught how he’d used the word “mine”. Alex thought he was in charge. There was a moment of anger as he imagined himself ripping Alex’s head off as he’d done to that other alien, but he contained it. He couldn’t kill him right now, not until he’d seen what kind of traps he’d left in there first.

“Go get the biochemist and wipe the virus from her memory bank.” He did the best he could to keep his voice even.

“She isn’t going to like that.”

“Alex,” Tristan growled, “don’t push me.”

The human stiffened. “Where is she?”

Tristan shrugged. “She ran off. You control the ship, find out.”

Alex looked at him. Tristan began to growl.

“Did you take the anti-virus?”

“Yes,” he answered through the growl.

Alex nodded and left.

Tristan found himself watching Alex walk away. His shoulder, the firm back, that tight ass, his legs. He wrenched his gaze away when he felt his body react.

He needed to finish the job so he could be rid of the human. He was a menace, a threat to his survival. It was only a question of time now, before he was done with him.