Cerberus 04 - Paragon Slayer by Andy Peloquin

Author:Andy Peloquin [Peloquin, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2020-07-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Cargo Hold Four appeared utterly normal as Nolan entered. Essentially a giant room made of metal—titanium alloy for the walls and spaceship-grade steel for the I-beams—it had just three openings. The first was the door through which Nolan had entered, which led to the passageway that spanned the length of the lowest deck from the landing bay in the stern to Cargo Hold One at the bow.

The second opening was a twenty-meter tall door that allowed for heavy transport vehicles to drive in and out when the ship was docked on the ground. Nolan guessed that this opening was also shielded by exterior doors—if not, the passengers in Cargo Holds One through Three wouldn’t have been able to breathe.

The third opening was a long seam that ran the entire length of the cargo hold. This would open from beneath, allowing lighter freight spaceships—like the tug-haulers in the landing bay—to gain access to the Armada’s holds in orbit.

All in all, it was exactly what Nolan had expected from a cargo hold, down to the pallets of crates, sacks, and boxes stacked ten and twenty meters tall.

However, as Nolan had seen on the footage Taia had shown him of Monty’s visit to this place, Cargo Hold Four held a secret that someone—almost certainly Rip—was willing to kill for.

He found that surprising. After Rip’s interrogation upon his arrival and hearing the man speak of the Liberationists, Nolan would expect a violent response only if the refugees were threatened.

So what the bloody hell is so important down here that he’d snap Monty’s neck and attack his own chief mechanic—a woman it seemed he had real feelings for?

The answer to his mental question awaited him in a dark corner on the aft-starboard corner of the vast metal chamber.

Nolan didn’t bother with stealth mode—the shadows of the dimly lit hold offered more than enough concealment, and with Taia blinding the cameras, he had no fear of being watched.

“Omni, on,” he told Taia.

“Activating now.”

A digital filter passed over his viewscreen, and the cargo hold around him grew suddenly bright. With it on, amplifying the lackluster red glow streaming from the light strips along the wall, Nolan could see as clearly as if he’d been in a fully illuminated room.

Everything appeared normal among the stacks of thermoplastic crates that filled the majority of the cargo hold. Most bore labels of vaccines, medicines, non-perishable food supplies, blankets, clothing items, and tools, the sort of thing expected of aid supplies delivered to refugees. A single pallet was loaded with dozens of sacks emblazoned with the logo of Rolling Wind Estate—the rushgrain seed that the Armada’s manifest claimed filled its hold.

“Looks like the Protection Bureau’s intel is either wrong or bullshit once again,” Nolan muttered. “Unless these crates are hauling explosives instead of food and essentials.”

He conducted a quick search of a few of the thermoplastic crates. Their contents matched their labels—all materials needed by desperate refugees fleeing their homeworlds and intending to start new lives on a new planet.

That didn’t sit right with him.

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