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  Heck looked at the cross hanging above the window in the cockpit and realized just how remarkable the past two days had really been. How remarkable it was that he’d even survived one of those scrapes, let alone all of them. Heck made a silent promise to God to make up for lost time.

  “That still don’t address why Kharkov won’t just kill us.”

  “She won’t kill us. She has something else in store for us.”

  “Incoming message,” stated Dooly amidst the chimes of his computer. “It’s Kharkov.”

  “Play it.”

  A holographic image of the beautiful and deadly Yulia Kharkov appeared in front of Heck. “Congratulations, Marshal. You’ve guaranteed your lover another day to live. Return to Alamo Drift with our package immediately.”

  “Great,” said Dooly with a growl. “I hope there ain’t no more damn zombies to deal with.”

  Much to the relief of Stephen W. Doolin, the great warship operated by Ryevolutzia was where Kharkov intended to receive Sixkiller and her crew. Heck piloted the sleek and deadly cruiser into the open hangar bay in the massive ship and waited for it to pressurize. When systems showed the outside air was safe and breathable, Heck and his friends walked down the ramp from Sixkiller’s cabin to the deck of the Ryevolutzia ship.

  Kharkov stalked out into the hangar and up to the waiting ex-lawmen and their crime lord friend. Her contingent of guards was following smartly along behind, their boots striking the deck in cadence echoed loudly in the cavernous hangar. She stood with her hands on her hips, still wearing her dark glasses, her soft hair tumbling from her shoulders. She didn’t seem surprised or concerned that King Virgil was present on her ship. But why would she care who Heck Thomas brought with him on her massive warship? Especially this one, with a crew of over a thousand very bad Ryevolutzia.

  Heck handed the holocard with Uzefski’s data. Kharkov snatched it from his hand and plugged it into a holotablet computer. Within seconds a holographic data-stream containing Uzefski’s wormhole theory was blazing through the air in front of her. Nodding to herself, she placed the computer in the pocket of her leather coat.

  “We will know if this is a fake, Marshal. Our scientists will run the algorithms and assess the data.” There was no need for Yulia to elaborate. She was not making a threat, but was stating a fact. And it was quite clear to the lawmen what would happen if it proved to be counterfeit.

  “What now?”

  “Return to your craft and get comfortable. We go to wormhole.”

  “Fine, we’ve done what you want. Where is Laylara?”

  “Have you forgotten our bargain, Marshal? There is more to come later.” As Yulia Kharkov walked away, Heck imagined the crack of his rifle as the bullet sailed gracefully through the air and pierced the back of her head, forcing its way through her brain, to exit through a very large hole in her pretty face. He was startled from his fantasy by the soldiers who remained behind, indicating that he was to return to his cruiser with the barrels of their rifles.

  “Ok, Ivan, or Igor, or Ingrid. We’re going,” he said placatingly.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Ryevolutzia ship finally arrived at the location of the wormhole’s existence. Heck and Dooly were exhausted and managed to get some sleep onboard Sixkiller, though Heck’s dreams were plagued by the constant recounting of the past few days events. When Kharkov’s guards came to Sixkiller to escort the three men to the observation deck of the Stalin, he was no more rested than before. He was weary, very weary. If anything, the short sleep had only served to make him wearier still.

  After being forced to disarm, the men walked silently through the corridors of the ship which had been built and commissioned to honor the memory of the Soviet Union of the early 20th Century. The ship was old and in disrepair but its archaic tributes to the failed governmental system known as communism were everywhere. The Alliance that had preceded what was now the Ryevolutzia had flirted with the ideals of a new, stronger, space-faring USSR. The movement had some momentum and the Socialist Alliance existed with strength for a period of twenty years, before interest died off. The Socialist Alliance had accomplished little of significance, other than projecting a very dangerous presence in space and had provided no solutions to the problems plaguing Earth.

  Although Heck Thomas had no direct experience with the evils of communism, he still possessed an inherent dislike for it and couldn’t help but scowl when he saw pictures of people like Stalin, Lenin and Khrushchev.

  Finally they reached the observation deck of the Stalin, lavishly decorated and in a much better state of repair than the rest of the ship. The observation deck had a great viewing window where one could look out over the dark behemoth as it sailed the solar system.

  “I hope you enjoyed our hospitality,” said Kharkov with false sincerity as she stalked into the room and waved at the viewing window. Heck wondered if she stalked everywhere she went.

  “It was as warm and enjoyable as you, Kharkov,” Heck was doing his best to get under her skin. If he succeeded, she didn’t show it.

  “Well, then you will enjoy our next stop.” Kharkov led the group through a door in the side of the observation area. This was the scientific laboratory where Ryevolutzia’s scientists, willing and unwilling, labored to revive the Centaurus Project.

  The laboratory was a model of state-of-the-art computer systems integrated with scientific equipment. A quick count revealed nearly twenty scientists in their white lab coats laboring at their holographic interfaces, recording data, or making observations.

  “Can you see it Marshal Thomas?” asked Kharkov in a whisper of awe.

  “I’m sorry, your big head is blocking the way. I can’t see a thing.”

  Dooly chuckled and Heck took a shot to the ribs from a guard, forcing him to double over.

  Satisfied that Heck’s insolence had been punished, Kharkov smiled, continued. “That is the wormhole, Marshal. That vast empty space which is anything but. It is our destiny! Our wormhole device will expand the limits of humanity beyond our solar system. Perhaps we will make first contact with another sentient species.

  “The wormhole devices we have created will also be made into weapons! Ryevolutzia will be invincible!”

  “Alright, Kharkov,” said Heck angrily. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the grand tour or your maniacal motives. Where is Laylara?”

  “She is in there,” she said dismissively, waving at the viewing window that looked out over another area of the Stalin. Then he saw what Kharkov was pointing at. There was a small gray shuttle poised on a launch pad. Its engines had been warmed up and Heck could see a glow from the exhaust ports. “She is getting ready to make history!”

  “You bitch!” he seethed. “I’ll kill you!” Heck received a blow to the back of his thighs with a rifle by one of the guards.

  “Ah, Marshal Thomas,” she said patronizingly. “You are not permitted to make threats here. I hold the key to your lover’s survival, tak?”

  “Tak?” he mimicked her, returning the patronizing tone. Then he got to his feet with a promise of violence in his eyes. “And I hold the key to your survival, Kharkov.”

  “I think not, Marshal Thomas. You are not good at bluffing. My scientists used the formula of the late Uzefski, which you so thoughtfully provided.” Kharkov walked slowly, speaking methodically. Then she turned away from Thomas and looked out the window. “We thought, perhaps, you might have a difficult time handing over something so critical.

  “And now we come to the third task, Marshal Thomas. Miss Espinosa will be my guarantee of your good will.”

  “You don’t know where you’re sending her!” he shouted. “She could be lost forever!”

  “Perhaps,” said the powerful woman, unsympathetically. “Perhaps not. If you provided me with the proper formula, you need not worry. I will even be so kind as to let you go through the wormhole after her if she does not return immediately.”

  “What about the radiation from U-999?” he dem
anded. “That substance is evil!”

  “Ah, well,” she said with a guilty smile. “Perhaps you should worry about that.”

  “You won’t get away with this,” he growled.

  “Somehow I think it is you who won’t get away with this,” she countered. Enjoying the questioning look in his eye she continued, “Marshal Thomas. You are the mastermind of the new Centaurus Project! Thank you so much for your services to the goals of the Ryevolutzia! It is so sad that you will be arrested for your good work. But you will be remembered if it is any consolation.”

  Then the door to the lab opened and in walked the last person Heck Thomas thought he would see aboard the Stalin.

  “Well, Marshal Heck Thomas. How good of you to join us!” said Gem Revelier. “And you even brought another of my favorite criminals with you. That was very thoughtful. So much easier for me to kill two birds with one stone.”

  Heck stood tall next to Dooly. “I thought I smelled the Bureau’s stink in this,” he seethed. Then he spit on the floor at Revelier’s feet. “Do you think we are going to let you get away with this?”

  “Which ‘we’ are you referring to?” he asked innocently. “Did you mean you and ‘King’ Virgil, or perhaps you and Mr. Doolin?”

  Heck’s eye twitched dangerously as he looked from Revelier to Dooly to Virgil. Dooly gave Thomas a shrug and walked over to stand beside Revelier.

  “There,” said Revelier with a grin. “So glad that’s settled. Deputy Marshal Doolin here is going to get a ‘Heck’ of a promotion for bringing you in. I think a commission as a full Marshal and his very own cruiser are in order.”

  Thomas said nothing. There was nothing to say. Business mode funnelled his rage and stored it. Laylara was still at risk. He had to think, had to come up with a plan to survive the next few moments and rescue Laylara. He looked at Virgil and noticed, for the first time, that Virgil didn’t appear to be the slightest bit concerned. Then Virgil gave Heck a wink.

  “Enjoy Sixkiller, traitor,” said Heck in a very low, very unstable voice. “If you set foot in there without me, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

  “Again with the threats, Marshal Thomas!” chimed Kharkov.

  “A promise,” he corrected grimly. But Dooly seemed amused more than threatened. Heck promised himself not to ask Dooly why he turned. Now, he just wanted to kill the man.

  “Your attention, gentlemen!” said Kharkov. “We begin the countdown sequence...now!” A timer on the wall began to count down from five minutes. Poor Laylara. There was nothing he could do for her now. He wondered how she was faring, knowing that he was here. She was probably expecting him to rescue her. But she was tough, tougher than many men he knew and brave as any.

  “Can I talk to her?” he asked, feigning defeat.

  “Whatever for?” asked Revelier.

  He was surrounded by armed men and badly outnumbered. It was him and Virgil now, he laughed grimly at the irony. Frantically he scanned the room, assessed the situation, looked for options. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be a way to save Laylara and stop this from happening.

  “Are you that stupid, Revelier?” he asked, stalling. “Then again, you are with the Bureau.” Three minutes left.

  “You wound me!”

  “What do you get from all this, Revelier?”

  Revelier didn’t get to answer the question because an explosion rocked the ship.

  The doors that led from the observation deck to the laboratory blew inward, instantly killing the guards and sending others sprawling. Heck took advantage of the moment and grabbed a rifle from a downed soldier as he ducked behind a desk. Some of the scientists panicked but most simply dropped to the floor to avoid bloodshed. Virgil ducked behind him.

  Before he could say a word, another explosion and a surge of flame stunned his senses. Luckily the desk they were behind shielded the pair from much of the blast and Heck was able to recover his senses quickly. Then gunfire erupted and Heck strained to see who was fighting whom. Then he saw Virgil beaming with pride.

  “What’s going on, Virg?”

  “It’s good to be the king, Heck!” he replied with a grin. “Those are my royal troops!”

  Heck smiled and slapped Virgil on the shoulder, “I love you, man!”

  “Awe shucks!” quipped Virgil. “We got this! Now see what you can do about saving that girlfriend of yours.”

  Heck moved cautiously through the broken equipment, ducking when a spray of bullets peppered his surroundings, then moved on. His heart sank when he saw the countdown clock had been destroyed. Laylara was still inside the shuttle and the shuttle was still on the launch pad, so Heck hoped against hope that he could stop the launch. He searched for a means to stop the launch sequence. The scientists who were not dead had managed to escape the lab, he could find no help there.

  He searched frantically for Yulia, she could stop the launch! He would force her to stop it or he’d kill her. Virgil’s forces were doing quite well against the Ryevolutzia, but the fighting was intense and both sides were still engaged fully. That Virgil’s men were here at all meant that the rest of the ship was under his control. The Ryevolutzia forces were fighting for their lives and nothing else.

  Heck spotted Kharkov behind an overturned steel table with Doolin and Revelier. He had a good line of fire on their flank and took aim with his rifle. He had to choose his target quickly. He desperately wanted to kill Revelier and Dooly, especially Dooly. And Kharkov presented a good target too.

  He fired. Kharkov dropped her rifle and fell, holding her side. Dooly looked around and locked in on Heck’s position while Revelier cowered on the floor behind the now injured Kharkov. Heck quickly aimed at Dooly as his ex-partner and friend did the same, but a billow of smoke blew through and impeded his view. Knowing that he was no better protected than Dooly was, Heck chose to move away and get behind cover.

  He glanced out the window and saw that the shuttle was still there. He was desperate now. How long did he have? Seconds? He had two choices. He could try to get to the shuttle before it launched and extricate Laylara, or he could beat the control codes from Kharkov’s miserable body. Judging the distance to the shuttle, beating Kharkov seemed the more likely scenario of success. He said a quick prayer to God. Right now, God, all I need is a way to rescue Laylara. She’s all that matters; I know that now. I need to save her!

  He ran across the room towards Kharkov amidst a hail of gunfire and obscuring smoke.

  As he slid through the smoke, life seemed to shift into slow motion. The shooting stopped, but the shuttle was beginning to lift away from Stalin’s launch pad. He saw Yulia on the ground, holding her profusely bleeding side. He saw Revelier cowering, the reflection of death in his eyes. He dropped to Kharkov’s side.

  “Stop the shuttle!” he shouted at her, the words leaving his mouth like molasses from a cold bottle.

  She shook her head, slowly. Her eyes were glazing over. “Can’t,” she said slowly. Too slowly. “Launch...irreversible.” Then she died.

  Emotions roiled and threatened to overwhelm him again. He wanted to sink into despair and futility, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t wired that way. Cops never are.

  “Heck Thomas!” a voice drifted through his awareness. “Don’t kill him!”

  Kill who? Then he looked down at Revelier. The man had wet himself for fear of being killed by Marshal Thomas. Then he realized just how much he wanted to kill him, and thought he might oblige the miserable agent. But the sight of the shuttle clearing the pad and rocketing toward an enigmatic point in space stopped him cold. He watched powerless, helpless. Then a point of light expanded before the shuttle, growing wider and wider until it swallowed up the shuttle completely. Then it went out.

  “Heck!” that was Virgil.

  His grip on his weapon tightened and loosened over and over as he stood there, debating whether to kill or not. He was angry and sad and alone all at once. Profoundly so. He wanted to assuage his emotions with violence. The
ship’s ventilation systems quickly cleared the room of the smoke and the smell of gunpowder. He looked around for his ex-partner but Dooly was nowhere to be seen.

  “Heck, stop!” said Virgil. “It’s done. It’s over. Ryevolutzia is done.”

  “Laylara...” he began, his eyes welling.

  “Gone,” said Virgil softly. “Gone. I’m sorry.”

  “Ok, so now what? Are you taking over the mafia?” he asked, wearily.

  Before he could answer, another man walked up to the pair. A man in the combat uniform of the Commonwealth. “Marshal Thomas,” said the man gently.

  It was then that Heck noted that Virgil’s men were attired the same way. They were all wearing the Commonwealth combat uniforms in the colors of blue and silver, the colors of the fleet. Each man or woman had the flag of the Commonwealth on one shoulder and Virgil’s personal coat of arms on the other. On their backs in reflective block lettering read, ‘KING’S MEN.’

  “King’s Men?” he asked Virgil. His friend shrugged.

  “It’s good to be the king!” laughed Virgil. “We are privateers now, working to help the Commonwealth to police the wilder areas of the solar system.”

  “Marshal Thomas,” the other man repeated.

  “Do I know you?”

  “No, I am Special Agent David Hall.” Heck’s face tightened and he seriously considered shooting this man. But at Hall’s direction, the cowering Revelier was brought to his feet and handcuffed. “Please understand, this piece of trash and I are not of the same cloth.”

  Heck nodded but said nothing. He was curious as to how this group of commandos managed to find him and takeover the ship at precisely this moment. But his mind was partly on what he had to do next, and on locating Stephen William Doolin. Hall seemed to read the question in Heck’s eyes and nodded. Revelier stood with eyes down, every time he tried to speak he was silenced with the butt of a rifle.

  “I am so sorry we couldn’t get here in time to rescue Laylara,” he began. But the look in Heck’s eyes warned him not to continue on that path. “Revelier sent me to find you, but I was suspicious of my boss from the start. When the word wormhole popped up more than once, I did some digging.