Archaea 2: Janis Read Free Page A

standing silent and dark. I could hardly see, and between the ominous roar of the incoming storm, and the rising wail of winds through the rigging, I could hardly hear myself think.
    As I approached the gate to the storeyard I was so keyed on a cargo container by the entrance, that when a man stepped out from behind the container I felt as if I had willed him into existence. Maybe I could smell him.
    “Halt or you will be fired on!” he yelled, predictably.
    Being fired on was exactly what I didn't want at the moment, so it was an easy decision for me to hold my hands up and out at shoulder length. A strong blast just about lifted me off my feet and threw me off the end of the wharf. I staggered a bit in the most non-threatening way I could, and said clearly and loudly, “My name is Yak Onebull, I represent the independent frigate Archaea, and have been directed to meet here regarding transshipment of supplies.”
    I considered my options for a few moments, while the man huddled in the lee of the container, covered me with a nasty looking shotgun and barked unintelligible sounds into his comms. It seemed the best course of action to adopt an immediate no-sudden-movements policy and smile.
    As he stepped up, and waved me over, I noticed he was wearing pretty decent tactical gear, and looked pretty solid.
    “Are you armed?” he yelled with a strange accent.
    “Yes sir, I suppose I am. Are you my contact?”
    “Negative, you'll want to move on up!” he gestured with the barrel of his gun towards the warehouse.
    “Thank you!” I yelled, with the winds trying to tear the words out of my mouth, and made my way through the storeyard away from him, hoping he didn't feel even the slightest bit threatened.
    The barrels of his gun looked like two caverns. I wanted nothing more than for him to turn them away, but that was apparently not on his agenda and I felt a horrible itching and burning between my shoulder blades as he tracked me all the way to the door of the warehouse.
    When I got there, I had an even worse feeling of being watched, the feeling that I was walking into a trap. I'd prefer to have overwatch and a squad of assault troops on tap, set to storm the place if something went south... or at least Jane.
    I hated leaving her like that, but she didn't seem to be in any real danger, certainly not enough to abort our current mission. At least she was someplace safe right now, either back at the Archaea, or hanging tough in some holding cell waiting for the captain to collect her.
    As I stepped up the wide plastiform planks that made up the front steps to the warehouse, the sliding door opened up barely wide enough to enter, and a voice called me in – into the dark interior I couldn't see.
    My bad feeling was not getting any better, but I wasn't exactly flush with options at that point.
    A glance upwind left me with an image I will never forget, and one I won't ever be able to accurately describe as the full fury of the storm started to fall.
    “Mr. Onebull, please come in!” a man yelled, stepping through the door and motioning me in.
     
    *****
     
    Captain Smith, Gene and I made our way forward to the bridge, ears ringing and eyes caked with grit, the ferocity outside completely insulated inside the Archaea – she felt like an impenetrable fortress compared to the chaotic maelstrom hurling hunks of Vega 6 past our forward port.
    The view forward was grim indeed. We couldn't see the next blast pan at all, just an undulating wall of brown and black as the winds scoured everything in their path and hurled anything that wasn't bolted down into the darkening sky.
    “Some howler, Gene. I guess I had forgotten what these were like.” Captain Smith said, as he checked the Unet terminal on his station.
    “This is definitely a beast, Dak”, said Gene, taking a sip of water and wiping the dust out of his eyes. “What class do they have it at?” he asked.
    “The weather stations are calling it a class 8, sustained