Free A Taste Of Despair (The Humal Sequence) by Robert Taylor Page A

here. Walsh has us flagged as dangerous criminals, so we might as well bust out of here.”
    “Easier said, than done.” Jones chimed in.
    Rames reappeared from out of the corridor leading to the personal compartments.
    “All done?” Hamilton inquired.
    Rames nodded. “Everything is in hand. I suggest we get ourselves ready.”
    “Alright! You and your men guard the main entrance as best you can. Klane and the rest of my lot, stay with them and help. Jones, you’re with me!” Hamilton ordered.

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Before anyone could object, or ask annoying questions, Hamilton was up and heading back down the corridor to the door leading to the medical area of Q-section. Jones ran right behind him.
    At the door, Hamilton pointed at the control panel. “Get this door open!”
    In theory, the door couldn’t be opened from this side. Leaving the medical quarantine area for the more general quarantine section was supposed to be a one-way trip. However, if the door wasn’t supposed to open from this side, then why did it have a control panel?
    Jones bent down and examined the panel. “I hope you know what you’re doing!” He muttered under his breath.
    Hamilton grinned. “When have I ever let you down?”
    Not looking up from his inspection, Jones scowled. “You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?”
    “Probably not. What about the door? Is it openable?”
    Jones grinned and pulled out one of the canteen’s metal knives. “I think I can work with this. It may take a bit, though. I’m not used to working with such primitive tools.”
    Hamilton actually laughed then. “Says the man who made a jammer out of broken terminal parts!”
    Jones grinned. “I am that good!”
    “The sooner you get it open, the quicker we’ll be out of here.”
    “Why am I opening it? Just out of curiosity, you understand.” Jones asked.
    “The medical section is where we entered the station. You and the others were all still in your cryo tubes. They ferried them here from the Morebaeus down at the docking ring. The medical section has a large airlock. It’s our way out.”
    Without pausing as he pried the panel off below the controls, Jones said. “Won’t we need a ship? You can’t think of making a run for it in a spacesuit?”
    “No, of course not! Rames’ marines are still on board the Ulysses . They opted to stay aboard under quarantine there, rather than come here for testing. Apparently there’s some Imperial regulation that allows for that which they quoted at the investigators. One of them apparently did some flight training before opting for the life of a gun-toting grunt. He’ll bring the Ulysses here.”
    Jones looked round in surprise. “A Marine? A grunt is going to fly a ship up here?”
    Hamilton shrugged. “Rames said he was up to the task.”
    Jones returned to his task. He had the panel off and was teasing wires and fiber optic cables out of the conduit behind. “A Marine is going to fly a spaceship. This is what I have to put my faith in? A grunt with a joystick. What could possibly go wrong?”
    Hamilton snorted. “It’s that or go straight to prison for the rest of your life.”
    “Aha!” Jones exclaimed. He pulled a couple of wires free of the circuitry to which they were attached. “That’s the safeties.” Then a couple more were ripped free. “That’s the locking mechanism.” He touched those together and the door gave a clunk. He reached in and pulled another set free. “And these are the motor power lines.” He touched those together and the door slid open obediently.
    Hamilton ran through at once into the small reception area. The officious clerk was not there. Hamilton assumed he was only present when someone was about to be released. He crossed to the windows and looked out.
    The Morebaeus was still docked at the far end of the docking arm, exactly where it had been several days ago when he’d last had the opportunity to look outside. Next to it, the tiny