"Silence!" Guzman demanded.

Jaxon followed the order. He recognized the instability in Guzman and knew that if he wasn't careful, he could in fact cause the man to lose control completely and exact the revenge that was surging through his veins.

"Good, that's good, Mr. Rasner," Guzman said as he paced back and forth in front of Jaxon's bunk. "Who I associate myself with inside your company, your GSA, is none of your concern. If I were you, I would worry more about how exactly you are going to die." Guzman leaned in close to Jaxon's face. "And let me tell you, it will not be a pleasant experience. I will not afford you the same consideration that you gave my father all those years ago. It will be slow and painful." Guzman spat with each word, causing Jaxon to nearly gag at the stench coming past his lips.

"But," Guzman began, standing upright, "before we get started, I think we first need to neutralize the rest of your traveling companions. Tell me, Mr. Rasner, where exactly are they hiding? I had hoped that I could capture all of you in one, solitary swift motion. But then again, I should have figured otherwise-you're all trained agents, after all. It was wise of you to split up."

Jaxon was elated to hear that the rest of the team was still out there. As much as he wanted to throw it into Guzman's face, he remained silent and only smiled confidently.

Guzman watched Jaxon's expression, waiting for an answer. Unfortunately, it was too late for Jaxon to retreat before he recognized Guzman's insanity surface. Guzman reached behind his back before whipping his hand across Jaxon's face.

Jaxon had been beaten many times throughout his career, and normally a backhand offense would only have a momentary sting, but something was different. Something was more severe with Guzman's assault. Jaxon ran his tongue across the front of his teeth and tasted a metallic residue. He leaned to the side and spat a mouthful of blood. He looked up at Guzman, who was smiling back. He held his hand up in front of Jaxon, displaying the brass knuckles resting on his palm.

"I have to tell you, Mr. Rasner. I am so very delighted that you are here with me. Our next few days are going to be such sensational fun. Well, fun for me-not so much for you. Or your friends for that matter. To tell the truth, I don't need anything from you. I was only asking as a professional courtesy before I kill them. What do you say? Would you like to watch-possibly even participate?" Guzman asked before removing his brass knuckles and opening the door. He nodded to the guard and then motioned toward Jaxon. The same disfigured killer stepped in and grabbed Jaxon firmly before throwing him out into the corridor, and off to a new location.

50.

Jaxon's transponder signal maintained its speed and trajectory for an additional twelve minutes before it abruptly stopped. The sudden halt caused Camille to stare blankly at the screen for several moments. Not sure what to expect next, she looked at Oliver.

"Yeah, I see it. Either his giddyup ran out of gas, or they reached their destination. Still nothing on the scope."

"Still no ship? What about its location? Is there a station or perhaps another ship in the area?" Camille asked.

Oliver compared his sensor results with the known entity maps on the ship's computer bank. After a series of back and forth views, he responded. "Nope. There's nothing on any of the sky maps. It's like he just stopped in midair. Should we continue on our course?"

Camille considered the situation. "How long until we intercept?"

Oliver was bringing that information up as she asked. "Less than fifteen minutes. Assuming he doesn't deviate from his current position and we maintain our staggered approach."

"What if we change course and head directly for him at our best speed?" Camille asked, evaluating all her options.

As if Oliver was on Camille's same mind track, he had the stats already up on his display. "We could be there in six minutes."

Camille sighed heavily then mumbled quietly. "I hope to hell you know what you're doing, Jaxon."

"Come again?" Oliver asked.

"Change course. Let's get there fast and see if there's anything he needs from us," Camille said. "Clay, when was the last code change done on the stealth device?"

"Last cycle was ... twenty-three minutes ago, and the next change will be in seven."

"Okay, be ready for it. I also need you to do whatever you can to increase the defensive shields. I have a feeling we're in for a battle."

"I ... I don't think it's possible to increase the strength-it's at minimum power as long as the stealth device is active. It's not quite a one or the other scenario, but it's certainly close," Francisco said.

"Okay. Do your best then. Any sign of attack, throw the shields up to full strength and ditch the stealth device."

"Understood," Francisco said.

The silence on the bridge was practically audible. The moments ticked away as the Buddha narrowed the distance to Jaxon's position.

"We're still a few minutes out, but we should be able to see his location via external cameras," Oliver said.

"All right. Let's see it."

The main screen flickered from the long-range sensor array to what appeared to be a still image of outer space. At the center of the screen, there was a bright, metallic object increasing in size. Within seconds, the indistinguishable shape began to take form. The exterior surface was charcoal in color with a matte finish. There was virtually no reflection from its skin. The shape of the structure was cylindrical in nature, with two perpendicular shafts intersecting at the middle.

It was a space station.

There were no ships anywhere in sight, assuming that the station had external docking ports in the first place.

"Holy shit," Oliver exclaimed. "It's an undocumented space station. This shouldn't be here."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Camille said. "How could they have built such a structure without alerting the GSA?"

"Theoretically, it's impossible. Extensive detailed drawings need to be submitted, and approvals must be secured prior to any construction," Francisco said.

"Well, it's right there, and none of our sensors can pick it up. The station must have its own stealth device installed."

The Buddha slowed before it began to orbit the station. Now fully visible on the screen, it appeared to be about a quarter the size of a standard entertainment class space station typically found in the outer ring. The closer Camille scrutinized the design, the clearer it became that the station was more like a fortress than anything else. On first glance, there were no visible view panels and only two cargo bay doors large enough to permit docking ships. On the other hand, there were at least a half dozen torpedo cannons and railguns at various points on the station. Camille's heart skipped a beat as she watched one of the cannons continually track them as they drifted by.

"Not good. Not good at all," Camille muttered.

51.

Jaxon sat in a cold metal chair with no padding whatsoever. His arms were bound to the armrests, and his ankles were shackled to legs that were bolted to the floor of what appeared to be an oversized airlock.

The airlock was bright white and had various gauges, controls, and peripheral connections throughout. Straight ahead of him was a rectangle door with a small view portal at the center. He tried to peer out from his position, but could only see faint darkness. Above and to the right of the door was a large view screen displaying various technical information.

"I presume that you are comfortable, Senor?" Guzman's voice said over the intercom in the airlock.

Jaxon looked up and around, as if to locate the source of the voice, but didn't answer. He wasn't entirely sure words would help him one way or the other, as he looked perilously toward the airlock door in front of him.

"Can I assume that with your distinguished career at the GSA, you know precisely the effects caused by the vacuum of space?" Guzman said. "If not, let me give you a firsthand demonstration."

Jaxon somehow knew what was about to happen well before Guzman began to ramble on. He took in several deep breaths-exhaling fully in between-before taking a final breath. With his lungs full, a warning light flashed at the perimeter of the airlock and the door opened up to the vacuum of space beyond. Every cubic meter of breathable air vented out of the chamber. The sound of the air escaping was nearly deafening. As the last volume of life passed out into space, silence took over, and Jaxon involuntarily expelled his own last breath. Panic and fear overcame Jaxon as he fought for the air that wasn't there. He thrashed against the constraints holding him in place. His vision quickly began to cloud over as darkness seeped in. The mere seconds that passed seemed like an eternity, then he noticed the airlock door closing and the display screen beginning to turn from red to green as air was being replenished.

As Jaxon gasped for air, Guzman spoke. "Tell me, Mr. Rasner. What are you feeling right now?"

Guzman paused, but after only a few moments of silence, he continued. "More importantly, how do you think it feels to suddenly have your breath taken away from you?" Guzman laughed. "Ha, ha. I know that's a rhetorical question, seeing as you just experienced that firsthand. Perhaps I need to be more precise with my question. Do you think it feels the same when your breath is taken away as it feels when a loved one is ripped from your life?"

Before Jaxon could answer, he saw the door light flash again as the airlock cycle began. Unfortunately, Jaxon had no time to prepare for the second assault on his lungs, and there was scarcely any air left in his chest. The screaming of the air vacating the chamber was deafening. Dizziness and darkness took hold on him much quicker, and just as he was about to pass out, the airlock closed again.

Jaxon gulped at the air as it refreshed the chamber, and although he had training for rapid decompression in space, he was always inside of an environmental suit when it happened. The drills were an exercise to quickly patch a leaky suit. There was no preparation for what Guzman was doing to him now. As Jaxon regained control of his breathing, he gasped out loud.

"Stop. Please, stop," Jaxon begged.

"So. He still can speak," Guzman said, chuckling gleefully. "Why exactly should I grant your request?"

Jaxon continued to breathe deeply, feeling the burning sensation in his chest dissipate. He held a finger up as best he could despite his restraints. Finally, when he felt that he could speak coherently, he began.

"You ... don't have to ... do this. I'm sure that ... if there was something ... I could do, we could ... work something out," Jaxon said, breathing deeply as he spoke, preparing to fill his lungs once again at the first sign of another airlock cycle.

"That's the thing," Guzman said. "I don't need anything from you. As a matter of fact, I probably know more about your mission than you could ever imagine. For instance, I've known that you were on your way to visit me for at least a week. And before that, I knew that you were being sought for active duty several months before you did. Oh, Mr. Rasner. I know so much more, and I could go on, but to tell the truth, I'm actually quite enjoying seeing you suffer. Perhaps the pain that you're now experiencing can come close to the pain you caused me when you took my father from my life."

Who the hell was feeding him his information? Jaxon wondered. His mission to assassinate El Tonto was only known to a few people. And the knowledge of his existence on Taloo could only have come from one or two people at the company. But who was it? Who was the mole? Who was Brutus?

"Ah, I see that your mind is like a mouse on a wheel. It's running and running and running, but you're getting nowhere-the answers just won't come. Isn't that correct, Mr. Rasner? You're asking yourself right now who is my inside man at your precious GSA?"

"You're right, Guzman. You've got me beat. If you just untie me from this chair, I'll be happy to call off the half dozen reinforcement ships that are heading this direction as we speak," Jaxon said, hoping that a different approach would delay the inevitable that deep down he knew would come.

There was silence for several minutes as Guzman was either checking his resources with the company or scanning the external sensors.

"Ha, ha," Guzman laughed. "You almost had me there, Mr. Rasner. It's highly unlikely that what you say is true. There will be no reinforcements. Otherwise, Brutus would've warned me long before now. You see, it's just you and your three team members. That's it. Your mission was set up to fail from the start. I've known about you all from the very beginning." He paused, and Jaxon could hear papers rustling in the background. "Mr. Miles Oliver, for instance. He is probably the most formidable foe of the group. He has the most recent activity with the company, but his personal philandering crossed the line one too many times."

Jaxon was shocked that Guzman had more information about his team than what was given to him by Director Howe. The majority of Oliver's file had been redacted.

"Then, there's Mr. Clay Francisco. He's the child of the group, is that correct? He's on task to discover what makes Whitetail so addictive. Rumor has it that he may, in fact, be a double agent."

Francisco? A double agent? Jaxon thought back and realized that he may have been tainted by somebody else inside the company. Francisco was the obvious mismatch for the team.

"Finally, Mr. Rasner, we come to your FiFi. She's ... special to you, isn't she?"

"Leave them out of this. If you want to exact revenge, focus on me and no one else," Jaxon demanded.

"You're in no position to demand anything."

Suddenly, the viewscreen flashed from the safety green circle to a view of outer space. As Jaxon deciphered what he was looking at, the blood drained from his face. He saw the Buddha circling the space station.

52.

Several minutes passed as Jaxon watched the Buddha cross through the view screen. It was slowly drifting through space, most likely looking for a point of entrance to the station.

"What is it you want?" Jaxon begged. "Whatever it is, just leave them alone. I'll give you anything."

"I want nothing from you, Mr. Rasner. Well, nothing that you can physically give to me. What I want is retribution and that will only come from seeing you suffer."

"Then take it out on me and leave them out of it. They're just following orders. They mean nothing to you," Jaxon yelled.

"Oh, contrary to that statement, they mean everything. They mean everything to you and if I remove them from your life, you will begin to experience even more so what I felt nearly 20 years ago."

The speaker in the airlock cut off as Jaxon continued to watch the view screen. He hoped that Camille was wise enough to not stay in any one position for too long. Then, the screen flickered from the floating Buddha to a new display, showing the familiar layout of a close proximity sensor array. From what he could tell, the scanning region was void of any contact, as a teal-colored radar sweep rotated around the space station.

Suddenly, a dialog box appeared on the screen, and a multi-digit hexadecimal code was entered in. The dialog box disappeared. Then, a new one displayed, saying: SEARCHING FOR FREQUENCY. Jaxon inhaled sharply as he hoped that the subroutine that Camille installed was continuing to function. Within moments, an error displayed on the screen: NO SIGNAL FOUND.

Jaxon exhaled slowly, satisfied that at least one thing was going for the team. Then, a new dialog box appeared that read: SYSTEM OVERRIDE.

Jesus, Jaxon thought. How much more does Guzman know?

His question was answered promptly, as Guzman entered in the direct access override code for the Buddha and hit execute. The screen flickered and turned black before the display that Jaxon was familiar with appeared. It was the control panel layout from the Buddha itself. Guzman now had full access to the ship's controls. He watched in horror as the selection indicator hovered over the stealth device menu. Jaxon inhaled sharply, but Guzman didn't access the system as expected. Instead, he dropped the selection down to ship's defenses and brought up a new screen, displaying the status of the shields.

"God, no," Jaxon exclaimed.

Suddenly, the screen flickered back to the view of space. Seconds slowly ticked by, turning into minutes. Painfully long minutes passed until the ship came back into view. Jaxon caught his breath at the sight and knew the inevitable was about to happen.

Then, without notice, the airlock door flashed as it began to open, once again vacuuming the breathable air out into space. Jaxon breathed in deep and fast, taking in what would most likely be his last breath. Strangely, though, the door halted with only an inch-wide gap between. The air continued to escape, but at a much slower pace. He could still feel the pull on his lungs, but it was a manageable resistance that he could bear.

53.

Siding with caution, Camille had ordered everyone to don their environmental suits at the first sign of hostility. Seeing the space station's gun turrets trained on the ship certainly justified that action.

As Camille stepped back onto the bridge, her two companions had already changed and were back at their stations.

Sliding back into the pilot's chair, she asked, "Status?"

"No change. Still no apparent point of entry, and the station's weapons continue to track our movement. I think it's safe to say they know we've arrived."