Alien Alliance Box Set

gave off a weird vibration, tingling his hands even through the cardboard. With effort, he slid it up over the railing, let it fall in the waves. Without a moment’s second-guessing, he returned to the passenger area and acted as nonchalant as possible, making sure to keep his gaze off Marise. Flip was still slapping his victim. Wretched Marise sat hunched in a middle seat, her face forward, moaning, dark bags pooled under her brown eyes. She looked as if she’d aged ten years. All the survivors did. It was as if all thirty three were waiting on death row without any hope of mercy—which was probably not far from the truth.

Chapter 11
While Regers patrolled the hostages with his sharp piece of railing, Flip walked to the back of the passenger area, scrutinizing him with a critical eye. Regers gave him a cheery salute. With a surly nod, Flip went to check on the RPG and the disruptor in its cardboard wrapping. Seeing the alien tech missing, he sucked in a breath, his eyes rounding in pools of panic. “Where’d the mind disrupter go?”
Regers shrugged. “Was here when Biggs last used it. Somebody must have got his hands on it, walked off with it.”
Flip gave a roar. “Biggs! We got a real problem here!”
Choko dragged his ass out of the loo, a thickening scowl on his bulldog features. “Pipe down, Flipper. Can’t even take a dump here without your dramatics.”
Biggs strode in from the starboard deck. “What the hell’s wrong?”
“One of these fuckers moved the disruptor,” Flip bawled.
Biggs gazed around the cabin area, his fists clenched. “Where they going to hide it—up their asses?”
“Coulda stashed it somewhere,” said Choko, “in any of the stow bins. If Regers’d been doing his job—”
“Yeah, what about this Regers fuck?” said Flip. “He was the last one near it.”
Biggs inclined his head. “Got something to say, Regers?”
“Nope. I’m in the dark as much as you are. Maybe ask Choko here. Seems he likes to take long shits. Could have been using it as a sex toy in there for all we know.”
Choko glared, his fists knotted, pushing in toward Regers. “You calling me a traitor?”
“Knock it off.” Biggs shoved him back and glared at them. “If we don’t find that tech, we’re dead meat.”
“It’s gotta be here somewhere,” said Flip with frustration. “Let’s all relax.”
“Relax, my ass. Find it.”
* * *
But they didn’t find it and never would. Nobody would.
The next hour passed with tense and embittered arguments. Biggs for all his brains could never imagine that Regers would chuck such a valuable piece of equipment into the ocean, just like that, especially given that it could save their necks if more assault boats and planes came after them. Regers was giving no signs to the contrary. Only then did Biggs point the finger of suspicion at Choko, who he deemed the only one bold and stupid enough to have hidden it with the intent of making an outside deal with a rival gang.
Choko bared teeth in a snarl. “You’re loco, Biggs! Why the fuck would I do that?”
Regers stood in accusatory stance, arms crossed on his chest while things were falling apart. This had been part of his plan, risking his hide to create inner dissension.
Biggs had questioned the hostages and got nothing but tears and whimpers. “We don’t know, we don’t know! We didn’t see anything!” Biggs could write off the teary-eyed freyas who probably hadn’t the nerve or physical strength to pull off such an act. Yet he snarled and took his boots to the wall. Regers’ biggest concern was that Biggs would torture the hostages into admitting that they might have seen him carting it away, but Regers had seen no eyes watching him, at least he thought. So the logical course was to search the ship for the hiding place.
And that’s what they did—for a fruitless hour.
At last, Biggs, circling the deck with a look to tame a wild beast, started to suspect that maybe it could have been tossed overboard.
The next hour passed with no retaliation from planes or coast guard. Choko manned the foredeck, eyeing the hostages through the broken glass, pacing with a bully’s swagger. Though his black, beady eyes scanned the skies with no small anxiety. After a time, he spat out a wad of phlegm. “So we lost the fucking thing, what can we do, Biggs? Good news is, no jets. That’s all these fuckwads got for us here today.  Maybe we’ll get out of this yet.”
Biggs leaned against the railing, studying the wind and clouds with a sullen eye. “What do you think, Regers? Choko here thinks that we’re okay now, that we’ll see no more attacks.”
Regers squinted into the sun. “I think that anything could happen, Biggs. We should be on guard. Lucky this tub is even running after the abuse it’s taken. I’d give the engines about—oh, say four hours. And the air cushion?” Regers shook his head. “Not even that.”
Biggs grimaced. “I agree. Let’s hope it gets us to Byarus. But I’m still very conflicted and pissed about the mind disruptor.”
“Bullshit,” spat Choko. “What’s wrong with you, Biggs? You a fucking pussy now? This guy’s got you bedazzled. Boat’s running fine. The authorities don’t give a damn, or are running scared. Got an itch in my pants something awful. Cock’s not getting any action. Think I’m going to take one of these hot chiquitas out for a test drive.”
Biggs shrugged. Choko swallowed two hits of bam and stomped across the deck into the passenger galley. He came out, dragging Marise by an arm. She struggled, a hoarse wail in her throat.
Regers saw the look of terror in her tear-stained face and his heart gave a sickening lurch.
“You got any objection, Regers?” Biggs asked coldly.
Regers