The thug knocked on the door three times, paused, then twice more. Almost immediately, the door opened, but this time, the noise barely penetrated Kinson's thoughts. What was going to happen next? He didn't have long to wait.
"Take them with us. Now that our cover's blown, we can't afford any trails," Tarken said, having recovered some of his senses.
"You can't do that! The whole planet will be searching for us!" Celeste said in panic.
"Then I guess we'll just take you off world. You're a valuable bargaining piece, after all, and we can't afford to send you back for free," Tarken turned around and began to walk back the way they had come.
The men in suits stepped menacingly toward them. Kinson quickly grabbed Celeste's hand and followed on his own feet. The men hesitated, and brought up the rear, ensuring the two of them had no chance to escape.
"I'll try and give you a chance to run," Kinson whispered into the blonde hair at his cheek.
She shook her head. "No, they might kill you. They'll keep you alive to use me, and vice versa, so we should be fine, for now," she added positively.
"If they get us, they'll be that much closer to starting this war. Can we really do nothing?" Kinson whispered fiercely.
"We're not soldiers. I don't know what to do, but I think we should try and stay safe. Father has a lot of weight to pull around. I'm sure he'll rescue us," Celeste said hopefully.
"Enough chatter. I'm sure you know not to escape. Each of these oafs behind you is a class 5 psionic with painful restraining abilities. I'd like to keep you in one piece, if possible. But if you insist…" Tarken let the sentence fall off menacingly.
They both shut up, and Kinson couldn't help looking back. The lead bodyguard grinned at him, showing several missing teeth. He turned around and focused on keeping pace with Tarken. How could guys like that reach class 5? With that many powerful opponents, all thoughts of escape left the two students' minds.
They arrived at the elevator and travelled to the ground level. Instead of taking the hallway to the lobby, Tarken instead led them the opposite way. For some reason, they still hadn't passed a single another person, which Kinson found both odd and unfortunate.
"Where are you going?" Celeste finally asked after a few more turns. "There aren't any exits this way."
"Foolish girl. Do you really think the BPI wouldn't leave any escape routes?" Tarken remarked offhandedly.
Sure enough, the ornate hallways eventually led them to a small storage room. Tarken waved a grunt forward and opened the door. The room was only twenty by twenty and contained only a few large crates of some unknown material. Kinson sneezed as their footsteps disturbed the thick layer of dust which blanketed the room.
"If anywhere has a secret passage, it's here," he muttered wryly.
The two bodyguards behind Kinson shut the door with a bang and moved some of the crates against the far wall. After much exertion, they slid them across the ground, revealing a small door about 5 feet tall. Tarken grabbed the handle and twisted it, but couldn't pull the door open.
"Rusted shut," he frowned.
The man beside Kinson raised a hand, and purple energy manifested itself, coiling around his fingers. A glow appeared around the door, which began to tremble upon its hinges. After a moment, a loud crack echoed around the room, and the door swung open.
"Locks are for the unqualified," the man said dramatically.
Kinson rolled his eyes but inwardly felt a little envious. Why couldn't he be that cool? Having already forgotten the important intel he had accidentally received, he inwardly blamed his useless psionic ability.
"Thanks, Brinkhoff," Tarken said and ducked into the tunnel.
The bodyguard whose name they had just learned, Brinkhoof, followed behind. His hand remained alight, illuminating the dusty corridor ahead. Any spiders were long dead and gone, but their silk webs coated the inside of the tunnel.
Kinson glanced at Celeste as she shivered beside him. "Spiders…" she whispered, a look of panic overcoming her features.
He gently took her hand and squeezed it lightly. She looked at him anxiously.
"Don't worry, nothing will happen. Those webs are all dry, anyway," he said encouragingly.
He hesitated no longer and ducked into the tunnel, pulling Celeste behind him. Her hand trembled, but her grip was firm. The small tunnel was dry and cramped, and the thick webs fell around his head, arms, and shoulders like a sheet. Ahead of him, Tarken had yielded the lead to Brinkhoff, who tore through the worst of them like a tank through weeds. Every once in a while, a tangle of the web would grab at his legs and trip him up, or send shivers down his back as it crept under his clothing like the insect that wove it. The clingy webs ensnared the light, and shadows spun in all directions.
Celeste never released his hand, clinging onto him tightly the entire time. Kinson tried his best to shield her, but, every once in a while, she would whimper softly as a web grabbed at her face or hair. He could only shake his head, dumbfounded. Were the webs really that scary? He hadn't taken her as someone scared of something as common as spiders. She was always so steady and reserved, even as they had been kidnapped. This side of her was actually pretty new to him.
Besides, these webs were nothing compared to the jungle horrors of Vietnam. Although his memories of these experiences were rather detached, he still remembered the ever-present bugs and foliage, which seemed intent on erasing his very existence.
They pressed through the tunnel for almost twenty minutes. After about a hundred steps, Kinson found it rather dull. Fortunately, the webs thinned to nearly nonexistent for some reason about halfway through, which greatly eased all of their discomforts. Now, only his back was sore after bending over for so long.
The tunnel came to a rather abrupt end as a wall suddenly appeared before them. When they reached it, Kinson saw it was actually a door. From how far they traveled, they likely weren't in the city of Colony anymore.
Brinkhoff pulled at the door, which budged. He yanked harder, and, aided by his psychic power, nearly ripped the steel door off its hinges. Kinson blinked in pain as light streamed through the ajar doorway. Celeste gasped, beside him, and he shared her gratitude for the much awaited light.
"Finally," Tarken breathed, and Kinson was surprised he also sounded relieved. Apparently, the man didn't appreciate that tunnel either. His surprise quickly disappeared, replaced with disgust when he heard the pirate mutter, "I can't wait to burn this all to the ground."
Brinkhoff pushed through the door, which allowed the rest to follow. Still adjusting to the light, Kinson found himself in a large spaceship hangar. The room was hundreds of feet long, with many things to draw his attention. However, several small spacecraft dominate his sights. Most of the ships seemed outdated, even to his inexperienced eyes, but one in particular, which occupied the center of the room, was particularly new and sleek. The ship was painted entirely black and shared nothing in common with the clunky transports elsewhere in the hangar. Large fins extended from it like wings, proving it to be airworthy as well as space worthy. Beneath the wings, on either side, large guns dimly glowed with psionic energy. Kinson looked at the front and saw a cockpit that might hold three, or four people. The entire craft was only about 40 feet long, rather small for most starships.
"A warship!" he whispered in awe. Regardless of time or place, any man would appreciate such an elegant and inspiring war machine.
"Impressed by the sight? You'll get your chance to fly in it as well," Tarken chuckled, some words which would have excited him in other circumstances. Now, however, a heavy weight sunk in his gut and extinguished his joy.
"It's better than that tunnel," Celeste shivered in memory of their recent experiences.
Kinson nodded, and only now noticed that there were quite a few people busy around the hangar. Some prepped the starship, while others seemed to provide maintenance on various pieces of equipment spread about the room. Each of these workers matched his idea of a pirate, wearing the mismatched equipment he saw in the deathdream.
"This should be a secret base of the BPI. Why do you pirates have possession of it?" Kinson asked after a sudden realization.
"Heh, we have our ways. No one is impervious to the whispers of allurement," Tarken replied cryptically.
"Fine, but don't make stuff up if you're not going to tell us," Kinson said, annoyed at his answer.
Tarken ignored him and began to softly discuss something with an arrogant-looking man who had just approached. Their voices were too low for him to hear, but their gestures toward the students, particularly Celeste, made plain the situation.
"Are we really going to space?" Celeste asked, in a daze as she watched the pirates prepping the ships.
"I think so. Unless… no, I won't say anything," Kinson quickly silenced himself.
"Huh?" Celeste looked at him curiously, "Do you have a plan? She leaned in and whispered.
He realized he was still holding her hand so he quickly let go. "Sorry," he apologized, embarrassed. "But yes, there might be a plan. I don't have service anymore, but…"
Her fingers left him reluctantly, but understanding joined the hint of regret in her eyes. "Just wait and see?" she asked with a frown.
"Yeah," he replied with a nod.