The crowd was not seeking shelter in the lounge room. Rather, they wanted to cross to the other end, where an exit led to the main hall of the ship.
But panic ran rampant, and that made for a messy attempt. Some stumbled and fell, only to be quickly trampled by the maddened mass.
Halden, who had been standing away from either door, remained beyond the flow. He watched in horror, his eyes darting back to where these people all came from.
The phaser shots were getting closer.
An alarm blared, which only fueled the confusion further.
He knew he couldn’t stay here—that would leave him exposed to whoever was coming. But there was no way he’d risk joining that throng. He’d have waited for the tail end of the flow, but that felt just as risky.
After a few seconds of consideration, he decided to go against the tide. He hurried toward the opposite door, the one they had all come from, and where he could hear the phaser-wielding madman—for surely, that was all this could be—quickly approaching.
Leaning his back against the wall, right next to the opening, he waited, his heart thumping fast.
What was he thinking? He was no fighter. How could he expect to take this guy down?
And what if there was more than one?
He blanched at the thought.
Well, maybe security would get there before it came to that. Surely, with the alarms going off, they’d know something was off by now?
And he knew there was security on the ship. He’d seen enough of the uniformed guards during the guided tour he’d taken. They were everywhere...
Except, of course, when you needed them.
What were they waiting for?
The crowd was finally thinning and he considered making a run for it. A loud zap resonated and a woman fell to the ground. The back of her dress was charred black. Smoke rose from the still spasming body, carrying a sickening scent of burned flesh.
Halden held his breath as he heard quickly approaching footsteps.
From the sound of it, it was just one person.
Still, what was he going to do?
What no one would expect him to...
He was not a fighter, but he had been in the army. Thirty years ago. For five minutes. Still, he’d learned a few things. Would he remember them now, when he most needed them?
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Had Marcia been here, she’d likely have snorted and pointed out that it was like riding a bicycle. You couldn’t forget that.
No, he realized. She wouldn’t have said that at all. She’d have run like all the others. In fact, that could have been her right there...
His eyes looked at the still smoking body, and his fists clenched.
A man walked into the now empty lounge. His step was quick and firm, and he clearly intended to follow and catch up with the crowd.
Trying not to think about it, Halden jumped at the man.
His right hand shot to the weapon—he needed to disarm the guy if he wanted any chance to survive this.
The startled madman yelped as he felt the phaser yanked out of his hand and tossed away, and a punch hit him in the back.
He twisted around to face Halden, a snarl of hatred on his face.
“You shouldn’t have done that, old man! Now you’re gonna die.”
The scientist frowned at this. He was not that old. His foe was much younger, though, so of course he would think that.
He blocked an incoming fist and kicked the guy’s left leg. Hard. Bones cracked.
The man stumbled back, screaming.
“You broke my damned leg!”
“I’m more concerned about the people you killed,” Halden said calmly.
He heard footsteps running toward the lounge.
“They deserved what they got,” spat out the madman. “This place is an abomination. Only bad things can happen here.”
The guy drew a dagger.
“Now it’s time something bad happened to you, old man.”
Again with the insult.
Halden cringed as he eyed the dancing blade.
What had he got himself into?
“Nobody move!” yelled a voice from behind the knife-wielding man.
Halden knew better than to look away. His eyes remained on his opponent, though he could see a dozen men had arrived, all pointing weapons at them.
He took a few steps back and slowly lifted his hands.
The madman grinned and rushed toward him.
Phasers shot.
The man’s legs exploded, spraying the room with blood and splintered bone fragments.
He fell and squirmed, screaming and crying in pain.
“Who are you?” asked one of the guards, phaser pointed at the scientist.
“Halden Roche,” he said calmly. “I was resting here when this crazy guy burst in, waving his weapon.”
The officer frowned as he looked around and saw the phaser on the ground, a few feet away.
“Hold out your arms,” he commanded.
Halden did as told.
Weapon still pointed at him, the guard approached. He placed his wristpad against Halden’s, then looked at the display.
“Everything checks out,” he said as he put away his phaser. “Sorry about that, but I needed to make sure.”
“I understand.”
“You’re a researcher?” said the other dubiously.
Though he and his fellow scientists at the IAS all worked for the Imperium, it was held quiet, and their official profession was a more generic, less controversial one.
“I am.”
“How did you not get killed?”
Halden explained what he had done, and the guard nodded.
“You’re lucky you pulled it off. It could have gone very bad for you.”
“I know. But none of my other options seemed much more appealing.” He glanced at the madman, who was now being placed on a stretcher to be carried to the medical bay. “Why did he do this?”
The guard shrugged. “We’ll have to investigate, but there are crazy people out there.”
“He did say something about this ship being an abomination.”
The other wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“He must be a Child of Wrath.”
“A what?”
“Fanatics who think technology is destroying the Imperium. How can you not have heard of them?”
Halden frowned. It sounded somewhat familiar. Someone must have mentioned them at work. But he’d been so focused, he had hardly paid much attention to the news.
Perhaps that had been a mistake.
“You should go back to your room until this is settled,” added the guard. “There could be more of them out there.”
The scientist shuddered at the thought. He nodded and walked off.
As he walked, his wristpad buzzed.
He looked at the display and saw he had received a message from his daughter...
His dead daughter.