Under The Stars

Chapter 1

“We there yet?” I looked over at the big man intending a vicious glare, that apparently was not having the desired effect. He chuckled and went back to his armor. The steady ratcheting sound was vastly irritating. After two solid weeks of complaining about it, he refused to put down the damn tool so I decided to take it as one of life’s inevitable frustrations. I couldn’t be too hard on him about it, he was proud to have it and at least he had something to do. Whereas I forgot my damn playing cards and had nothing to do but complain about the constant click click click.

Conlin was a study of contrasts. His high energy, jovial nature was at odds with his withered body. His skin was dark, and his neatly cropped hair was nearly a third grey. His beard was holding out a little better, but still had scattered patches of grey throughout. His face had its wrinkles, and his high cheek bones could easily have given him a hardened, rough appearance. Instead, the smile lines around his eyes, and his constant smile told a very different life story than the shit show he has endured. That was only part of why I admired him but had nothing to do with our arrangement.

Conlin is a survivor. He had a large family back home, that I was only distantly connected to, hence why my skin was not quite so dark. Almost everything he did was for his family, at the cost of his own well-being. But for a man nearing fifty after a life of hard labor, he somehow retained his energetic approach to everything he did. On the flip side of that coin, I had nobody else to support but myself. What he did for survival, I did for ambition. And this haul was looking to be one of our best yet, which had Conlin in an even better mood than usual, but had me in a rather somber, cautious mindset.

Another round of ratcheting brought out an annoyed sigh. “If it's not right by now, it's not going to be.”

“It’s getting there.”

“And weeks later it's still getting there?”

“Yes.”

I sighed again. The armor was a chest piece be bought during a pick up awhile back. Conlin believed in being prepared, and even though we both had decent environmental suits that helped us deal with the stresses of this kind of work, he liked his with some metal. There were cons to this sort of chest piece, and those had been what he was trying to work around. It was made with a layer of gel that was fixed to his ES and coated with thin plates of metal. It was made for multiple forms of protection. Hard impacts, the metal would help of course but mobility was also a huge factor in our work. Between each plate was a small threaded insert, designed for a specific tool. You could tighten or loosen the corresponding plates in relation to the surrounding metal to adjust the fit and mobility of the entire piece. Conlin was also a perfectionist.

“I'm going to check the cockpit. If we are on schedule, we should be pulling out of jump soon.”

“Okie doke.” Click click click.

I stood up, stretching as I did, and pushed the little button beside the sealed door. The mostly transparent door creaked open most of the way, and I slid by hitting the close button on the other side. It slammed shut, and the surrounding vents started hissing. The cockpit was kept at a different pressure than the rest of the ship. G force was a thing, and even in space the right maneuvers could apply enough pressure to crush your hand down into the controlling joy stick. This, was no bueno.

I had a few moments before things got floaty in here. I slinked around the side of the chair, and dropped into it. It was comfortable, and it had to be. Most of this thing we outfitted ourselves, so I made damn sure that if we were running cargo, I had a nice chair. Pulled this one off a serious cruiser, so it was a little big for the space but worth it. I glanced over the different screens faced my way, and nothing had changed since the last time I checked besides the amount of fuel we had left, and our location. Which would have us leaving jump, in just a few minutes. Perfect.

I leaned back and bounced my fist twice off the door behind me. Conlin responded with an audible stomp, acknowledging he heard me. I flipped a switch that would start thawing the fuel for our mobility thrusters. Space was cold Afterall. I glanced back, and saw Conlin strapped down into his G chair. It was probably overkill, but he insisted. Usually dropping out of a jump was pretty smooth, but occasionally it could get a little turbulent. The seat he had, along with every cockpit chair you will find, was made to minimize the damage from potentially brutal turbulence. Conlin said one such incident jacked up his back, and after that he would never enter or leave a jump without being strapped in. He also had his full ES deployed. His particular suit had a sort of hood he pulled over his head, that would close around his face and attach to the rest of the suit. This gave him a complete seal, so if there was a hull breach, he would at least be able to survive a short time with the oxygen recyclers. There were triangle folds in the material, giving the shroud over his face sharp edges, and space so the hood wasn’t directly in contact with his face. I didn’t bother, I hadn't developed that kind of paranoia. At least not yet.

Until today. The nav blinked a few times, releasing a high-pitched tone of warning. Time to slow down. I flipped a switch, activating the forward thrusters and essentially putting the ship into reverse. The fuel for the main engines and the mobility thrusters should be thawed enough for use at this point.

I took the throttle in my left hand, and slowly started pulling it back. The forward thrusters cut on with a bass rumble, the ship’s frame vibrating in response. This was the hardest part for me to learn, and caused the most nerves. Too fast, you are fucked. The ship’s gravity systems can only do so much to protect you, and even that G chair Conlin was in wouldn’t save his life. And I would probably be smeared across the wind shield. On the other hand, too slow and you blow past your target.

Most navigation systems only plot and clear the course from point A to B, and only monitor what is between that distance. You blaze past that, and your computer is not ready to calculate what point C, or anything else looks like. You could fly straight into another ship, debris, or of course the obvious. An entire planet. Thus boom, thus death. And there is nothing you could do about it. Some of the more modern ships could recalculate, and even pull out of a jump automatically before hitting something. But this hunk of steel didn’t even have an AI that could turn the lights on, much less take the wheel so to speak. So, here’s to not fucking this up.

The ship rattled and groaned as we deaccelerated, the forward engine working to slow us down. I could feel it when we left jump. I sort of, warping of the world outside the glass. I glanced side to side at the engines. They were releasing a steady blast of energy, working to counter act our forward momentum. Everything looked stable, and they were not wiggling around anymore than they usually did. Then, I took a moment to observe our planet. Earth.

She looked... sick. Dark, oozing green clouds circled above most of the main, visible continents. What was left of them. Turning my focus to the vast ocean, which took up most of my forward view, I tried finding our destination. We were still a little far out to be able to make out any details, but I did see the small silver spec out in the Atlantic, South East of Greenland. Below the nav was a small analog stick, like something on a video game controller. Clicking it inwards, I shifted the nav into the camera setting. Basically, I could take the view ahead of us, zoom in on a location and lock in the coordinates. Last time I relied on the previous stop history in the nav, the damn system somehow confused a few of the numbers and we ended up dropping down a few hundred miles off.

Locked into the location, I slid the throttle back to forward cutting the engine thrust to zero, but we continued drifting. I flipped the switch I hit a minute ago back to forward momentum, and started pulling back on the throttle again. For a cargo ship, she moved okay. She wasn’t all that big, but was bulky enough that we wanted to go a little overkill on the engines. Thank the stars we did.

We were closing in, and only about a minute from dropping into the atmosphere, when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. There was a sudden, rough pulse that surged through the ship, knocking into us like a strong guest of wind. A moment later, the world screamed. The ship twisted and lurched, and a sound like a bomb exploded from somewhere behind me. I jerked my head around, and nearly thew up as the ship continued to rotate.

There was a small, glowing red hole in the right side of the ship. Conlin was mid step, and turning as the loss of artificial gravity took him off his feet. The air forcing its way out of the ship, caught Conlin and slammed him back first into the red-hot outline of steel. I guess those metal plates would be useful now. I was about to call out to him, and see if he was alright. But something about his movements made me think he was in complete control of what was going on. He grabbed a circular devise from his belt, and pushed it into the bulkhead with a twist. A neon blue wire glowed to life, attaching Conlin’s waist to the device now magnetically holding onto the steel wall. He did all of this, head facing forward to the opposite wall. He was looking at the exit wound.

The left wall of the ship, had gained a window. The steel was twisted and warped around an opening wide enough for two or three men to walk through. I pulled my own hood up on my suit, and everything went black for a moment. There was a quick buzz around my neck as the material sealed around the neckline of my suit. Triangles danced across my vision, as the different folds in the material blinked one at a time into transparency. I shook my head, trying to focus and take in details. I looked at the radar, and it was functional but blank. So, they were not running a beacon and were hiding their location somehow. Fucking pirates.

I took a second to think about our options. It only took a second, because we didn’t have many options. Running, not a chance. Not many weapons could blast through both sides of a ship in one go. It was one of those new needle cannons. No running from that. Throws blasts so damn fast, the only thing stopping it would be to make it glance off a reflective surface. This heifer of a ship was too blocky, and too slow to escape it. So, I guess final hell Mary it was.

Conlin likely was already thinking the same things I was. But I waited as I looked back towards him. The pirates, or whatever they were would be waiting to see if we were dead or not before wasting another one of those rounds. He was fiddling with his bracer. Conlin was always trying to improve it, and because of that it only worked maybe half the time. It sparked once or twice, and then his forearm glowed a pale blue along the edges. He started curling his trigger finger, followed by a snap I couldn’t hear. Something started banging around from a compartment in the back. We didn’t have time for this, I couldn’t wait to see if this was one of the times his shit worked.

We needed to be patient on when to act. The shot placement of that cannon told me a lot of things. Those cannons were supposed to be accurate enough to knock the antenna off a ship. Generally, they were either used to take out an engine, or the cockpit. The fact that it hit us roughly center mass told me two things. One, that it wasn't properly calibrated. Two, that if it wasn't properly calibrated. They probably didn't have the resources to burn through the ammo the weapon takes to calibrate it. These guys were not going to waste shots if they think they've already won. I could use that. But needed to wait for the perfect moment, or we are screwed. We didn’t even know how many other ships we were dealing with.

We continued our slow rotation. One of the screens starting beeping at me. We were being hailed. I pressed the touch screen to pick up. I heard a gruff, self-satisfied voice through the link. “You will-” I didn’t give him a chance to finish.

“HELP US!!!!! THERE IS SO MUCH BLOOD OH MY GOD! PLEASE!” I started like I was going to continue, but feinted a cough, and mimicked choking several choking sounds. I exhaled a long, exaggerated breath. With a smirk I looked around, an idly smacked my metal coffee tumbler off its magnetic trey. It took some effort; the magnet was strong enough to keep the mug still while flying and it was mostly full. But it hit the ground with a loud thud, and rolled around the cabin leaking coffee.

“Heh. He’s out.” I heard from the link, and they broke off the link leaving a dull dial tone behind. Conlin would have handled that differently. Had he been behind the yoke, he would have told the pirate exactly what he thought of him, what he planned to do, and would have carried it out to devastating effect. Conlin could fly like nothing I had ever seen. They banned him from the races early on, to keep the events more competitive. He was a fighter pilot years ago, before he pissed off the establishment. The CO that kicked him out, was subsequently court marshalled for letting such a valuable asset go. But Conlin wasn’t up here. I was. And while I didn’t have his skill, I had something he didn’t. An absolute lack of shame, with no sense of fair play.

I applied gentle pressure to the right thrusters, and slowly rotate to look behind us, perpendicular to where I thought they were. I slumped forward and laid my head on the dash. I looked dead, but had my head tilted in such a way that I could get a decent look at the other ships. There were three, in a pretty standard formation. A light cargo ship, not unlike our own was hanging out at a safe distance. The bulk of their crew would be there. There were always more man power than there were ships. The ship closest to ours, ha, was a damn Hercules.

Core Star Hercules. It was wide for a fighter, with barely a slit for the pilot to see out of. Most of their vision was projected on the screens inside. It was shaped a little like a T, with guns on both ends and another under the cockpit. There were also a number of high velocity missiles tucked on the underbelly between the gun stations. There were probably three or four crew aboard.

The defining trait of the Hercules was that it was absolutely covered in armor, even around the main engines. Which is rare, and difficult to do right. It sacrifices heat venting for durability, but usually leads to unreliable engines due to the excess heat. It starts burning out components leading to failure. The manufacturer claimed these issues were user induced. Naturally, the only things you couldn’t armor were the propulsion outlets, or exhausts. This was frequently brought up when they claimed to have made an invincible ship. They pushed back, and started calling the model, the Hercules. Because while it had a weakness, it was still super naturally tough. Yeah, Hercules. Not Achilles with the ankle, but Hercules. The manufacture fucked that up and still haven't lived it down. Knowledge of history is not common, which explains much about our state of affairs. It's not even taught in most schools anymore.

The Hercules would be tough much like the advertising presented. The third ship though, was the problem. That sniper cannon was slow, but one well-placed blast would end us. We were lucky the first time, couldn’t count on that again. If they got the idea that we are still a threat, safe to say we would be fucked. So, this was going to have to happen fast for us to have a chance. Need to prioritize, get the biggest threat out of here and work down. Their crew hauler was third, as it could be outmaneuvered pretty quick and they knew it. Take out the big guns, and they will probably run. Probably.

I was laying slack in my chair, incase anyone got an opportunity to check us out. I wanted them to think we were dead and out of the fight. “Got it.” I fought hard not to stand straight up from my possum impersonation when I heard Conlin’s voice loud in my ears. Right, comms.

“Sweet. You ready?” I whispered back.

“Yessir.”

“Ight.”

That was all the communication we needed. I let the ship keep drifting, covertly using a hand to gently guide us where we needed to be. It occurred to me right before acting, that if I went for the sniper our back would be pursued by the Hercules and we wouldn’t get our shot at its back. It would be a miracle to ever get that shot with this old hauler, if the Hercules had even a sliver of experience. Even with our improvements to our ship. Fuck. Well, let’s get this over with. I threw the old ship into a gradual reverse, and it didn’t take long to get level with the Hercules. I stayed limb on the dash, even as I flipped the switch lowering our weapon groups down. The comms pinged again.

I jerked up right, and gave power to the port side thrusters. The ship lurched, and we cut a diagonal line behind the Hercules, only slowing down when we came level with its engines. I pulled the standard guns trigger on the stick after I slowed us down. Almost simultaneously I hit the missile launch trigger beside the throttle. I skipped the lock on, there was no time. I tracked the viridian lasers with my eyes, and they nearly got the engine. The missiles a moment later impacted the heavy ship as it started to spin to face us. That was a mistake. If he had took off in another direction, he probably would have been okay. Instead, he rotated just enough, to let the right-side missile find its mark as he spun. I was suddenly very glad we bit the bullet, or rather the missile, and paid for the self-propelled ordnance that had its very own miniature engine to speed them to the target. Any slower it would have hit armor. This shot impacted somewhere inside the engine exhaust port.

There was an explosion as fuel ignited somewhere within its engines, and grey smoke billowed out engulfing the ship, and severely compromising our visibility. It was a toss-up on if the Hercules was out of the fight or if we merely delayed our execution, but we couldn’t wait around to figure it out. I hit the throttle on the side thrusters again, and we took off fast. We never fully stopped in the first place, and it didn’t take much to get us moving. We rotated with the Hercules, tucking in right behind the smoke hoping that sniper didn’t have Infared or something up and running. A moment later Conlin spoke through the comms again, simply saying “Now!”

Either we were lucky, or Conlin had a super human ability to track orientation and speed. As I slammed the forward throttle, we burst from the smoke, heading straight at that sniper. I started pulling the trigger again for the main guns, and we lit him up for only an instant before it moved. It was fast, too fast to be anything but a light flanker. If it had decent armor, it would have been willing to take a few hits in order to pull off a kill shot. Instead, it was jumping around unwilling to trade shots. We danced like this for a few moments, using the sniper’s evasive hops to close the gap where that cannon wouldn’t be as dangerous. I gradually took us in a weaving, side to side pattern as well. I wasn’t to worried about that single shot cannon taking us out while they were under fire, but you never know. Then the crew hauler was on us.

With its four engines, one at each corner of the ship, the thing took up a lot of space. Our own ship buzzed slightly just from being in its proximity, and it was getting closer. It started throwing crimson light our way, that was so bright I had to reach to the side of my ES hood and drag the perceived light setting down a few notches just to see where it was moving. This caused a delay in our next evasion action, and I felt the cannon before I saw the flash of light from the sniper. I know in that position, I would have expect the smaller ship to flee from the big one. So, I would have lined up my shot to land where I thought they were going. That would leave only a few angles, and if we zigged where the sniper thought we would, we would be dead. There was no safe bet there, except for forward.

I hustled our heifer of a ship towards the hauler. Somewhere off our port side, something invisible to the naked eye blew past us, and rocked the ship away from the projectile's trail. We were now tilted to the right side, and that is how we impacted the much bigger ship as I felt another blast of the cannon. There was a flash of light, and it looked like the shot had skated across the edge of the hauler, scarring its dark grey body but only causing minimal damage. The next sound was pure, metallic chaos as our hulls collided and screeched together. It knocked the ship into being parallel to ours as another blast from the cannon roared through the abyss. It had nearly taken us, and the hauler out but It felt like the shot went low given the way my boots vibrated against the floor underneath me.

The hauler was now between us and the sniper ship and I liked it that way for a moment. The sniper would adjust their angle, but not yet. I took that opportunity to tilt ourselves up slightly, and fire on one of the front engines. A few green flashes and the ship lurched away from us, more smoke escaping the damaged engine. There were bright sparks, and a few scraps of debris floating away from it. During its retreat, we surged forward again with all the engine power we had. It took only a minute to find the sniper, only slightly offset since I last saw it. The ship had been drifting to our left, trying to get a better shot. It was now looking right at us, but not from very far away.

I jerked the yoke to the left, and sent us into a barrel roll, dipping the port side down first. I had maneuvered on pure instinct, that seemingly paid off as another buzzing bolt flashed by us to the right. Then we were on it. It was a small, nimble craft. It had two hulls, and a thin frame held them together in the center. The cannon was fixed to the underside of one hull, and a standard laser was under the other. Both guns shifted their aim to fire as we began another roll, but they were aiming where we were about to be instead of where we are. Instead of making it easy for them, I waited until we were essentially upside down and yanked the controls to jerk the ship into slight downwards trajectory as another shot blasted by. This shot was close enough that its wake impacted the ship enough to bounce my head sideways.

I spun a few more times, narrowly escaping another blast as I got close enough to the sniper to finally do something about it. I jerked to the right, avoiding another blast. I was close enough now that I could see the subtle blue light emerging from the weapon as it prepared to fire. I took us a little lower than the sniper, and started tilting.

A moment later, we were under it. This was one of those moments that seemed to go by excruciatingly slow. I brought us into a half roll and slowed down as we slid under the sniper’s hull. I wanted our new, left side window to have a great view of that thing’s belly.

I glanced back at Conlin. I couldn’t see his face through his hood, but I imagined him with that half-crazy smile he only got in high stress situations. The compartment towards our ship’s rear was wide open, and in Conlin’s capable hands was his pride and joy. He didn’t splurge for much. He didn’t need much. But this was one of those special things, he did entirely for himself.

To be honest, it was almost too big for a single person to utilize. It was a large weapon, with two-barrel rods where a regular gun should be. Electricity danced between the forks, as he hoisted the thing to his shoulder to aim through the little scope. The dancing plasma brightened for a moment, and he pulled the trigger. He had fired straight through the opening that was ripped open on our ship, and into the belly of the sniper. There was a deafening sound, mostly from the ship above us as the shot tore through its hull. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it went through the far side.

Air rushed out of the opening, and some debris floating out of the hole as we drifted past the ship. I didn’t hesitate, I spun us around and elevated to the sniper’s level. Again, I started with both triggers, the light ship flying apart from the rapid impacts. I launched a missile at one hull, and slightly pulled us to one side so we could barrage the other. It didn’t last long and the thing just stated coming apart. There was a burst of sparks from something, and then the two hulled ship was suddenly in dozens of pieces drifting away from each other. I threw a hand up and shouted in victory, but the celebration was short lived. As the ship was pulled apart, I saw something that sent chills through my sign. The hauler, with its busted engine was looking right at us. Along with the damaged Hercules.

Neither were in great shape, but there was no winning this one. The Hercules was probably hobbling along with nothing more than the small mobility engines, that would have a hell of a time moving that behemoth quickly. The hauler, though down an engine, still had three more. We had one option. I opened fire again, hoping to make at least one of them pull off and get out of the fight for a moment. Neither of them did. They were also, apparently unified on their own strategy, which was to unload with every laser they had. The blackness of the abyss lit up like a party as different colored blasts ripped through the space between us. Some of the shots impacted the debris from the sniper ship pushing the metal fragments around. Other blasts ricocheted off those pieces, chaotically going in different directions. A few hit us dead on, and I yanked back one of my legs with a yelp after a shot smashed into the ship where my leg had been. It didn’t penetrate the cockpit, but it wouldn’t take much more.

I threw us in reverse for a mere moment, before throwing the switch back into the forward position and turning us planet side. From there I gave us full throttle, even the mobility thrusters were working to send us down to Earth. Shots flew past us on all sides, the light reflecting off the cockpit glass. Our ship shook a few times from impacts to the back, which was slightly more armored from the rest of the ship. However, it couldn’t hold out indefinitely. I decided to give them something else to think about. I turned the ship into a 180 spin, switching us back to reverse as I did so. I sent back a barrage of my own, making the ships pull away from each other to avoid the initial burst of veridian light flashing their way. The Hercules was slower to move, but I focused on the hauler instead. This time I took the missile controls, and got a clean lock-on before launching. I tracked the shot with my eyes, and it hit home.

The hauler’s front end burst into pieces, sparks and smoke dissipating around the impact. I saw a man float out into the abyss, followed by another. Most looked like they were in full ES gear. I was hoping the Hercules would break of the attack and see if they could bring the survivors aboard, but no such luck. In true pirate fashion they continued their pursuit. I almost felt bad for the men. It had to be tough watching their ally and only chance of survival, continue the pursuit of violence and treasure. Then I remembered, they were the ones that started this. Fuck those guys.

I spun us back towards the planet, but halfway around we were bombarded with a number of blasts that hit home. I heard a scream through my comms that terrified, and froze me to my core. This was followed fast breaths and curses. I sent the throttle forward and we were blazing through the atmosphere a moment later. This part would be tough, but hopefully Conlin’s ES would keep him from burning up. If he was still alive. The rest of the interior was probably toast though. I tried to focus on what was going on, but I couldn’t help it. I looked over my shoulder to see what had happened, to Conlin.

We had taken a number of hits. Everything back there was in disarray. But what stood out most, was the bright red cloud of blood around my friend. It was slowly settling down and falling like it should, as natural gravity began to take effect. That’s when I saw what was wrong. The last burst of fire had taken Conlin in the arm. His bicep was gone, everything below it was hanging limply. I saw bone, and tendons hanging there under his torn suit.

The next part however, would be even more unsettling. Those suits are designed to protect our lives. Even if it meant taking other things away. Through my coms I heard Conlin’s breathing quicken, and the man nearly whined as a winding sound played through the comms. He started screaming again. “Hey, hey.” I was trying to talk to him, distract him from what was about to happen. “It's not going to last long, it is okay. We are nearing help; we are going to get help. What do you think we should do now? How would you kill a Hercules?”

I kept talking to him as the winding sound reached a crescendo. Conlin whimpered, before the blades started ripping. The suit had a protection protocol. Losing his arm had triggered the amputation response. He screamed again, louder and harder than he did last time. He didn’t stop until his voice went raw and gave out. The suit was chewing through what was left of his arm. I looked back, and He was unconscious. The suit was supposed to load your body full of pain meds and the like for injuries like this, but the pain was probably enough to put him out on its own. I saw the remains of his arm drop off right below his shoulder, and the suit start to wrap itself around the bloody stump. I saw steam rising from the suit, and even with a wall between us I nearly gagged at the acrid stench of burning flesh as the suit cauterized the wound. On the one hand, it was an absolute nightmare to watch and probably even worse for Conlin. On the other, he was alive and not bleeding out. But we still needed help.

I turned my focus back to the windshield. “Hang in there Conlin. I will get us to help, we got this.” I didn’t really think he could hear me, but it was also for me. I AM going to get us out of this. A shot blazed by my starboard side. The Hercules must still be behind us. I tried being as evasive as I could, without shaking the unconscious Conlin about any more than I had to. Then, things started getting hot.

An amber nimbus started to form around the tip of our ship, we were breaking into the atmosphere. I glanced back and the inside of the ship was getting hazy with heat. He would probably make it, but fuck he was already hurt. I slowed down as much as I dared with the ship still firing shots down towards us, a few impacting the rear of the ship. I heard a ding of a lock on beginning, and started jerking us in different directions. As I did, I hit a switch with my right hand not far from the start up button. Panels across the ship were pushed slightly up, and a snowy white substance emitted from the hull, inside and out. It lasted longer outside than it really should have, but it was still gone in a moment. On the inside, it lingered. It was the emergency fire safety. It was made to stay attached to the ship itself, instead of just flying around coating everything in slime. The ship cooled by several degrees within a moment, and after half a minute I could see my breath fogging in the air.

I heard another ding and kept up the evasive maneuvering. There was not much point in turning to face the Hercules, we would never get behind him again and hitting the front was useless. We broke into the first layer of clouds, and I used that opportunity to angle out and away from our initial trajectory. I was hoping that would throw him off, and it did for a moment. But after we broke through the clouds into relatively clear skies, he started shooting at us again.

A few more dings, and a few more spins later we were nearing out destination, and our most likely source of help. Our home, Atlantic 27 was a floating city in the middle of an ocean. The skyrises were coming into view, and I felt a surge of hope as I had an idea. The military base had plenty of guns that could run this guy off. I altered our course towards the south end of the island, and the chase became more desperate. I heard a different tone from the computer and sent us into a rightwards barrel roll as a missile flew by. He wasn’t throwing everything at us now, locked on or not. A few more blasts impacted the ship, and suddenly we started dropping.

There were flashes on multiple screens. From what they were showing me, we took a hit to the right engine. Explains why that side keeps dipping down then. Not ideal, but I could land us with the engine on the left with the help of the mobility thrusters. We were nearing the base. I saw the large, multi-barreled turrets lining the walls of the military establishment. I looked at my altitude meter, and was shocked. We were well within their no-fly zone, and they were still doing nothing. I used the communications screen to call out on the proximity comms. I asked for help, I was a citizen being chased by a rogue. No response. Until one of the turrets slowly spun, guns aiming right towards us. Yet, it did not shoot.

That’s it. They were not going to help. For once in my life, I hoped, and truly needed them to do something. To do their damn jobs, to protect their people. Instead, they are likely sitting back with popcorn awaiting my demise.

We lurched again, this time something broke off the back left quarter of the ship. More warning lights, and I felt the remaining engine go unresponsive. I checked our speed, and heard my knuckles crack I was holding the stick so tight. I looked back at Conlin, who was hanging from his magnetic anchor. I lost hope. We were done. At this speed, nothing but a core engine could slow us down enough to save us. I guess, I still had to try. I did everything I could. All the mobility thrusters were working at full throttle, but were barely slowing us down. I deployed the landing gear, and heard myself giggling out loud. There was literally no point. Then I heard a soft, broken voice breath through the comm link. “Hit...the base...” It was hard to hear, through the rushing air now whirling in the cabin.

“Huh?” I wondered out loud. Then I got it. I made a slight adjustment to the thrusters and sent us barreling down towards the base itself.

Proximity comms start speaking through the dash. “Cargo ship, change your trajectory. You are on course to collide with a government military establishment. Adjust your course now.” The voice was so cold, it was almost robotic.

“Oh, so now you want to talk. How about you help me with this fucking pirate, and I will try adjusting where I crash!” I all but yelled at the dash.

“Citizen, change your”

“FUCKING HELP US!” I screamed at the dash this time.

No response. We closed in. This was it. I almost shut my eyes, but I couldn’t. I started muttering. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” The stark white walls were rushing up to meet us, and with only a few minutes before impact, with a dozen different warning lights flashing, a teal light snapped up from an emitter attached to the giant turret that had been tracking us. The tractor beam slowed our momentum, a moment before we would have crashed head on into it.

“You have deliberately attempted to damage government military property. Stand by for recourse. First sign of disobedience, you will be fired upon.” That cold voice came through the comms again. Then the ship started moving of its own accord, away from the turret. We were descending at an angle now, outside of the military walls. We were probably 10 feet from hitting the metal ground, when the blue light vanished. Fuck.

We dropped through empty air, and slammed into the ground. The sound left my ears ringing, and the entire ship flexed from the impact. The safety properties in the chair kept me from most of the damage but I was still a little dazed. I strained, and looked back towards Conlin. He was still hanging from his anchor, but at a different angle. There was also a head shaped dent in the roof above him. “Conlin?” I whispered. I wasn’t expecting anything. There was not much point in hoping.

There was a surging engine sound overhead, and a shadow stretched over everything I could see from the cockpit. I craned my neck, and looked up. The only thing I was fairly confident in at this point, was that the pirate would have backed off and left us alone, given that we were literally sitting next to a military base. I was wrong. I was looking up at the Hercules. Its deep rumble shook the very frame of our little broken ship. Panels were shifting open on its underbelly, revealing its landing gear. The Hercules was sinking down, closer, closer, closer.

Chapter 2

My consciousness wavered, but I was recovering. It didn’t take much acting to lay dazed and unmoving on the dash as a man entered my peripheral. I didn’t see a face just a man covered in mismatched hunks of gear. It looked like his mask was welded together in the center, and its eyes were slightly off kilter. My ES hood was still up, so he didn’t see my eyes tracking his movements. I could see part of the Hercules off to the right. It was pointed away from us, which was a little dumb. I would have wanted my guns facing the ship I had just brought down. I tightened my hand on the pistol at my hip, the pirate wouldn’t have been able to see it.

After a moment the man turned, and I got the impression he was talking to someone else. I took the moment to slide the gun from my holster, and into my lap. The man moved on towards the main hull behind me, where Conlin was. Oh God. Conlin.

I couldn’t linger on that. I had to keep my head clear if either of us had a shot at survival. I quickly tapped out a few patterns on the tablet, bringing up every prox cam we had. I could see the pirate that was looking me over, now standing in front of one of the ship’s main guns, probably evaluating its value. I could also see where one of the pirates was poking at Conlin, still hanging from his tether. He wasn’t moving. But I heard a sound, almost inaudible from the comm link. A small inhale, followed by a slow exhalation. Which normally, with anyone else, wouldn’t be a significant detail. Not even worth noticing. But I had worked with Conlin enough to understand his habits. He always took a slow, measured breath like that before he did something. Whether it was lifting something heavy or starting an uncomfortable conversation. I grinned. I couldn’t help it. We were probably dead already but going out without a hail merry was simply not our style.

Another pirate entered our ship through the hull breach. So, that’s at least 4. There had to be at least one more on their own ship. I was starting to like this math. Through Conlin’s comm, I heard one of the pirates speak. “Hey, I think he is still breathing.” Now or never. I grabbed the stick in front of me and pulled the trigger. I watched the outside prox cam in maniacal glee, as a gun rated for combat against star cruisers blasted away at that fucking pirate. Who had been standing less than a foot away from its barrel. I exploded out of my chair and turned to the door. I triggered it to open with the ship link on my wrist, and opened fire on the pirate closest to the breach. Conlin already had his knife, in the other’s throat. Teal and viridian blasts tore at the pirate, and while his armor stopped some of the bolts, it was not enough. After a few shots his armor cracked, and the following shots blew away his internals with a few squelches and sizzles.

I practically leaped the distance to Conlin, who was nodding his assurance. “At least one mo’” he said, looking towards the breach. I pressed the pistol into his hand in place of his bloodied knife. I clapped him on the shoulder, the one that still held an arm, and ran back to the cockpit. The prox cam on the monitors showed me a man hustling down the back tail gate of the Hercules. He had a rifle to his shoulder, and had better gear than the others did. He moved like he had done this before. But it wouldn’t matter. His slow, measured, precise steps would hail his death.

I dropped into the cockpit’s chair, and with a few practiced clicks fired up the engines, and jerking the yoke to the left I managed to spin the ship around without lifting off, digging gashes into the earth. I triggered the forward thrusters, as well as their reverse thrusters to keep us from moving, and cranked the engine to 11. The heat blast from those engines, that were way more powerful than this ship really needed, sent a wave of heat over the lone pirate that would settle into my nightmares for awhile. The scream was, thankfully, brief. The man’s armor melted, and dripped down his body as he sank to the earth. I cut power to the engines, and sank back into the chair for the briefest moment before rising again.

I went back to Conlin, who was starting to stand on his own, though heavily relying on his tether. “I gotta go clear that ship.” All he did was nod and grip the pistol in his hand a little tighter. I bumped a storage compartment next to the breach a few times until it popped open, exposing the handle of another pistol much like the first. I moved out of the breach, making sure I didn’t rub against the still smoking metal around the gap. I nearly gagged when the smell of the burnt pirate nearby hit me, but forced myself to focus. I refused to look in the direction of the crispy corpse, and did my best to ignore its existence.

As I moved, I started to raise the gun to eye level, to focus on the back lift of the Hercules, when I saw the law approaching. A dozen men in solid white armor, with helmets that somewhat resembled the front of a plow. It was tech like my own ES hood, and didn’t mark where their eyes would be. It gave them a grave, robotic appearance. They all had rifles ready to use, so I holstered my own weapon the moment I saw them, but kept my hand on the grip incase the Hercules still had a threat inside.

A few things went through my head as they noticed me. 1, we were outside city walls. Laws were different out here. Like that of claim and salvage. I lurched forward, and jumped the last few steps to the Hercule’s wing. Placing my hand on the tip that dipped down to just over my head, I shouted at the enforcers. “Claim! Claim by salvage!” They all looked at me, and a few tilted their heads. The one in front shrugged.

“Who else is alive?” Called the one who had shrugged.

“One in there, needs medical attention.” I pointed at the wrecked ship behind me.

“What about the herc?”

“I'll tell you in a second.” With that I slowly approached the rear lift. This would be a lot cleaner if nobody else was left, but there was still a chance. By the law of salvage, anything abandoned outside city walls was fair game. Anything you take from someone who attacks you, was also fair game. I made my way up the heavy lift and drew my pistol as I did so. I gave the side eye at the enforcers, they had been known to be a little jumpy lately. Half of them stayed and watched me, as the rest went to Conlin. I took it slow and made myself assume there were pirates left to deal with. I didn’t want to get complicate. Everything was cold, grey steel with a few black accents. Simple, efficient. Sliding lockers lined most of the walls, a table and couch took up the center of the room, and a sleeping cot was tucked away in a corner. There were also two doors, which looked to line up with the ship’s wings, that would serve as tiny sleeping quarters. So, one on the couch, one in each sleeping quarter, one on the cot. That’s four pirates.

As I moved, my eyes flickered between the cockpit area, and the two side doors. There would be small sleeping quarters behind them. I approached the first door, standing off to the side and well clear of the door as I kicked the button to activate the door. It slid open with a whoosh and showed me a tiny room with an empty bed, a closet, and a small shelf. Clear. I moved on and made my way directly across to the other side. Before I could repeat the same procedure I man’s shrill voice called out, and I nearly pulled the trigger in his direction on instinct. “Mercy! I yield! I yield the ship, just give me my life!” Well shit, if he just hands over the keys that would save me the processing of the salvage claim.

“Done.” I called back, as clearly and confidently as I could. “Open the door, both hands up, you know the drill. You will exit the ship and tell the law that you have relinquished your claim on the ship to me.

“Okay okay!” He shouted, and the door opened. I kept my gun on him, just in case, but he did exactly what was asked. He was a small framed man, and wore one of those rough ES helmets like the other pirates did. But the rest of him was considerably less armored, which usually meant he was the pilot. I watched him as he made his way down the ramp, and called out to the enforcers that he was surrendering to them, and yielding the ship to me. Well, how about that. I wrecked the cargo hauler and traded it for a fucking Hercules. Would be a pretty good day if not for Conlin’s arm.” After a quick once over, and a glance into the cockpit area, I returned to Conlin. He was being assisted off our ship, and someone was on a comm requesting a medical shuttle. His ES helmet was deactivating, folding back into place around his collar bone.

“Geiser, you gonna make it?” I called, not wanting to get in the way of the enforcers.

“Supposedly from what I'm hearing.”

“Cool. Once you get off your sick bed and get over being a cripple, you can come back and check out our new Hercules.”

“Salvage claim?”

“Nah sir, last pirate yielded.” The old man grinned, and it took away years of turmoil from his face, and gave me a little more hope for his recovery. He was still looking rough.

The lead enforcer approached me, deactivating his own helmet. I did the same with my hood, and watched it fold down and snap into place behind my neck. “Time for a statement?”

“Time for a statement.”

Chapter 3

“And you, Darren Wren, affirm your statements as read here by proctor Adam Wretch, are the whole truth?”

“Yes.”

Wretch cut off the recorder. “Good. Now that’s over with. We will only be keeping you for 72 hours. It’s the minimum for destruction of property. After that, you are expected to pay out $7,200 to repair the damage.”

I banged my head against the bars. Wretch glanced up from his desk only a few feet away. “Or you can agree to sign over the personal property seized at the scene.” I glared around the room. This was processing. There were other officers working with other new detainees, but I was the only one doing business from a cell. Something about throwing hot coffee into someone's face last time I had a speeding ticket. The entire room was nothing but desks, chairs, and me in a small cell in the corner. There was a dull roar comprised of quiet voices, chairs scraping on floor tiles, and the haptic feedback coming from dozens of screens.

“$7,200 is half a year’s worth of living expenses. The Herc is probably worth eleven times that. This is bullshit and you know it.” I growled, meeting his eyes. “And you know I don’t have a way to pay that off, anytime soon.”

“Not my problem. Figure it out.” I ground my teeth. This wasn’t the first time dealing with Wretch. He wasn’t, malicious, per say. But he was one of the most apathetic assholes I had ever met. And completely oblivious to the corruption going on over his head. The $7,200 was absurd, and that number was only so high as to push me into desperation. Thus, encouraging me to just let go of the Hercules and walk away debt free. I tried reasoning that out with Wretch, but he does what he is told, and goes by the book. And the guys who wrote the book fucking suck.

“This is ridiculous.” A confident, tall man in a tailored suit was trailing behind another processor. Wait, no. THE processor, the guy in charge. A commandant, as denoted by the black stripe cut diagonally across his chest, in contrast with the white of the rest of his uniform. Who the fuck talks to a commandant like that and gets away with it?

The commandant looked distressed, sweat beading on his forehead as he walked. He settled into a chair behind the desk next to Wretch, and the speaker dropped into the chair across from him. There was also a woman with him, in formal business attire. Both had dark hair , pale skin. She had blue eyes, the man’s eyes were dark. The woman had a round face, where as the man had sharp eyes and high cheek bones.

“Look. These things take time. We will submit a formal request, and I will personally rush this to the top.” The commandant spoke as confidently as he could with his voice, but his eyes told a very different story. He was an average sized, middle aged man with a receding hairline. He was known for efficiency and had a reputation for cold calculation. Commandant Froth was a serious, intelligent man who had been there, done that. For him to be nervous was unheard of.

“She doesn’t have that long.” The woman was seething mad I noticed. Her expression was cold, but it was a mask. And that mask cracked the more she spoke. “We don’t have time for this.”

“I understand that. We will do all I can, but there are only so many strings I can pull.” Froth was trying to sound reassuring, and it wasn’t working.

“There are strings I can pull as well, that I can hang you with if you do not act NOW!” The woman slammed her fist down on the desk, jostling everything on it. There was a momentary lapse in the white notice in the room as everyone stopped what they were doing to stare. It didn’t last long, as it was not uncommon here. Nobody came here happy.

Froth was shaking his head, and his voice nearly cracked as he began speaking. “There is substantial risk involved in any outrider initiative. It must be approved by management, then a team must be put together, assets prepared, then we need to confirm...” His voice died away as his eyes briefly met the woman’s. “There is too much that goes into this and it's not in my power to just snap my fingers and send a team. If I could, I would.” She just threatened a commandant’s life and he is still on the defensive? Who the hell are these people?”

“You could try your luck with a private party.” Everyone turned to look at Wretch, including me. I was pretty invested in this conversation now, and I had 72 hours to kill. Wretch looked up from his tablet, apparently surprised that everyone's focus had shifted over to him. Setting his screen aside he continued. “Its not a great option, but it could be a quicker option. Throw some money their way, promise more when they get back, and you could have a posse heading across the ocean by sundown.”

“Where would we find such a party?” The man asked, looking unconvinced. Wretch glanced down at the tablet he had set aside, and after a pair of taps glanced over at Froth. Froth took out his own tablet that was hooked on his belt. It was one of those fancy folding devices. “They are out there. There aren't many, most are not trustworthy but some are.” Then... he turned and looked at me as the couple considered that.

Froth, then exchanged a quick glance with Wretch, and nodded before setting his Tablet aside. “Like him.” Froth spoke, some of his original confidence creeping back into his voice as he pointed in my direction.

I looked back and forth between he and Wretch, answering with all the grace and dignity as befitting someone of my position. “Huh?” I felt my eyebrows furl and try to squeeze together.

“You are an outrider?” The woman asked. There was still heat in her voice, but it was not directed at me, as much as it was a symptom of whatever was going on.

“I mean, I’ve done it. Mostly been doing cargo hauls lately, mostly on world, a few off.”

“But have you been on the mainland?” The man asked, giving me a stern looked that demanded a firm answer.

“Uh, yeah.” I looked around at everyone, wondering if they would leave me out of it if I crept back into a corner.

“Don't let him fool you.” Wretch spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him. I stood up a little straighter and took my head off the bars. What's he up to? “I have a file full of his exploits. He has had a hand in a little of everything. Just this morning he was attacked. Killed a few pirates in the sky, and a few more when he landed. He is a troublemaker to be sure, but nobody has ever accused him of not keeping his word, or of not getting a job done. And I’m going to go out on a limb, and say that maybe, just maybe, you guys could work something out given his current...circumstances.”

I arched an eyebrow at Wretch and looked at the couple. “What do you need?”

They hesitated and stared at each other for a long moment before coming to some kind of silent conclusion. The woman, the obvious alpha in the relationship turned towards me. “Our daughter was taken during our voyage from another Atlantic Island. Last thing we saw was their ships heading towards the mainland. From what we gathered on our here, their trajectory points to a known colony of lawless. We want her back.”

“Fuck that.” I turned from the conversation, and flopped down the corner of the small cot, as far from the couple as I could get. I sat leaning against the wall, looking away. Nope, not today, hellllll no.

“Why not?” The man asked.

“It's simply a losing proposition. I’m sorry, but it is.” I reluctantly looked back over my shoulder, tossing my braids as I did. I didn’t like what I was saying any more than they liked hearing it. “You only have a few options for something like that. Go in with such a force that basically says, give us what we came for or we turn this land to glass, or you sneak in and try and get out faster than they can chase you. I don’t have the force, or anything sneaky enough, or fast enough, to make this happen for you. I don’t know anyone else who could pull a job like this either, I’m sorry.”

The couple shared another one of those staring contests, but this one was much shorter than the last. The man spoke. “If we got you everything you needed. Got you out of whatever trouble you are in, funded your requisitions, could you be on the sea before sundown?”

I glanced at a clock on the wall. 10 am. “Yeah, I could do it with the right equipment. Won't be any time for custom work, the right vessel is going to cost you. But even if I try, there is no guarantee I make it back. Debt sucks, being gunned down by the lawless sucks harder. And I'll need help.”

“We free you, square your debt, pay you and anyone you recruit 15,000 credits on return of my daughter, and you keep the equipment.” The man looked sideways at his wife as she spoke. That was a ridiculous amount of money and left a few holes where I could take advantage. Like recruiting an excess of help, needing multiple ships. I looked at her cold blue eyes and realized that she knew that too. And offered anyway. They really were desperate.

“Besides, if I die trying, all you loose is the equipment. Nothing stopping you from finding other contractors while you wait on the law. Right?” Nobody answered me. I sighed and stood back up. I sauntered over to the bars and raised both hands to brace myself against them. I was staring at the ground, trying to think this through. I could get out of here, get a new ship, whatever equipment I wanted, and make enough to sit back and enjoy myself for a while. And the ship was absolutely necessary. I would need something that could give both ariel cover as well as be submersible. Theoretically it would work, if I could get Laine on board anyway. Still, very slim odds I make it back. I was going over all I had heard in my head and realized a detail was missing. “How old is your daughter?”

Silence. A cold hush ran through everyone listening until the woman, the mother, found the nerve to speak. I could feel her eyes on me when she spoke, but I didn’t have it in me to meet them. “8.”

I inhaled a long, slow breath before letting it back out. Oh God, an 8-year-old girl in a fucking lawless colony. We knew few things about those colonies, and what we didn’t know for sure we could imply. Freedom, wealth, and the fate of a little girl. Hook, line, and sinker. “Fuck me.” I muttered under my breath. “Get me out of here. We need to go shopping and I need my call.”