The Menagerie 2 (Eden) by Rick Jones

Deep cover has to show the Mexican government that we lost the man in charge of gathering data. And with him lost . . . along with the intel, which will be in my possession.”
    O’Connell moaned. Droplets of blood were pooling in the space between his feet.
    “He needs help,” she stated.
    Whitaker leaned forward. “Well, I’m afraid he’s not gonna get it.”
    “Then he’ll bleed out,” said Savage.
    “Then he bleeds out.” Whitaker held his gaze for a long moment, as if in challenge, before falling back into rank with his two commandos, Goliath and Maestro. Then, to Goliath:  “Get them to the Master Station,” he told him. “I need to contact Central.”
    Goliath shot him a thumbs-up. “Yeah, boss.”  
    Whitaker turned to Alyssa. “My men will take you to the ship’s Master Station,” he said coolly, “to a master console we believe to be the mind of this ship, or what’s left of it anyway. If what you discovered is the key that opens the archives, then you’ll be able to open it from there. But keep in mind: if you delay or drag things out unnecessarily—” He allowed the red dot of his laser sight to settle on Savage’s chest, at the point above his heart. “I guarantee you, Ms. Moore, that you will not like my response. Nor will Mr. Savage.”
    “We’ll do anything you want,” said Savage, “as long as you don’t hurt anyone else to prove your point.”
    “You have my word,” he told him. “As a soldier.”
    Savage winced at that statement. A SEAL would never compromise his morals for a hidden agenda at the cost of innocent lives. Never!
    But a Tally-Whacker.
    They had no morals .
    Whitaker gave his men a series of hand signals, galvanizing them. Maestro, an African-American who looked to be lean and angular with strong dimensions, poised his weapon so that it was leveled to kill. “Savage, you and your boyfriend O’Connell can take point.”
    “Where’re we going?”
    “Onward and downward,” he said, pointing to the aft of the ship’s remnant with a quick indication of his chin. “Ms. Moore will follow.”
    Savage took a steady look at Maestro’s weapon. He had been in situations like this before, most recently in Eden with the likes of Obsidian Hall and his team of mercenaries. But this group was different, a step up from Hall’s team. These people were skilled to never fall into complacency or to expect the unexpected, since the unexpected should never happen.
    Maestro, however, could see Savage’s thought processes at work, could see that he was trying to figure something out. More so, he was watching Savage’s every move, spying the slightest tic or awkward motion, looking for anything that would betray the SEAL’s intentions. He raised his weapon until Savage could see the open mouth of the barrel. “Move, Savage. And don’t even think beyond the moment.”
    Savage looked at Alyssa and shot off an everything-will-be-all-right wink. But she knew better, reciprocating with a false smile of her own.
    It’ll be all right , he tried to convey to her. Really!
    But they knew better.
    As Whitaker headed to the fore of the ship to contact Base Command, Savage, Alyssa and O’Connell were led to a part of the ship’s remnant at the prodding of two elite commandos. The deeper they descended the colder it became, with surrounding pockets of Stygian darkness so deep that light could not penetrate them.
    At corridor’s end they came upon the remnant’s Master Station. And it was, by all accounts, magnificent.
    Even with the point of a gun to her back, Alyssa could feel a cool tingling running along her spine, that chill of excitement and awe.
    “Keep moving, Ms. Moore.”
    She did, walking into the basking glow of phosphorous green light.
    Here sat the ship’s archives, the library and mind of otherworldly information, a set of cyber encyclopedias.
    But in the hands of Whitaker it would become something far blacker.
    It was about to become a gateway to