Bridge Across the Stars: A Sci-Fi Bridge Original Anthology

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “—following orders, yeah, I know.”

  “Fischer! You can’t murder him in cold blood!”

  “I have my orders, too,” I said. But I hesitated, and that’s not like me. I think something inside me didn’t want to disappoint Darrow. I liked her. Admired her, even. And she had just saved my life.

  “Please!” Blalock cried. “I can help Tony Taulke! I can—”

  “Geeks are a dime a dozen these days,” I said, remembering my contract. “Which makes your example all the more necessary.”

  “Please!”

  I pulled the trigger and Blalock’s body stiffened, electrocuted by his own EM field. I heard Darrow gasp behind me.

  “Goddamnit, Fischer,” Darrow shouted, getting to her feet. “I’m arresting you for the…”

  She trailed off when she saw me pointing the Mark II her way. Her eyes darted to her own weapon laying on the floor. She’d put it down to tend to Erkennen. Too far out of reach.

  “Do it then,” she said. “Just do it.”

  “I’m not gonna kill you, Darrow,” I said. “I told you earlier.”

  She stared straight down the barrel of my fancy new stunner. “Then what?”

  I thumbed the setting down. Technically, a stunner could be true to its name—it didn’t have to be lethal. In my business, it was hardly ever used that way. “Sweet dreams,” I said.

  “Fischer—”

  I pulled the trigger but was a hair too slow to help ease Darrow to the ground. She collapsed, but not too hard. I took a moment to wonder what her future might be with the Service, since she’d disobeyed orders from the top. They wouldn’t kill her now, they didn’t need to, and her mug had been all over The Real Story. Too high profile to get rid of, at least right off the bat. If they spaced her, it’d be after the hubbub from the livecast died down.

  Ra’uf Erkennen had begun to move, gasping with every stretch of his limbs. He was reaching for Darrow’s weapon. I kicked it away.

  “Congratulations on ruining your faction, Ra’uf,” I said. “Tony’s going to absorb the Erkennens like a bad stain.”

  “Fuck you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Taulke is still finished. Wait till Gregor hears what you’ve done here. He’ll—”

  “Your brother Gregor? If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll play ball with Tony. Maybe the Taulkes will even let the Erkennens live.” As I moved to stand over him, Erkennen had to crane his neck. “Well, all but one.”

  The fear in his eyes, then. It seemed foreign. He’d been the big cheese for so long, giving orders and being obeyed. Now, he was just another rat about to be shot like the vermin he was.

  “Last words?” I asked, bringing the .38 up. I’m nothing if not a traditionalist.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Good as any, I guess.”

  I plugged him right between the eyes, the blast echoing around the metal walls.

  As he slumped, I took stock of the room. Four dead mooks, one dead geek, one dead faction leader too big for his britches, and one sleeping marshal. After she woke up, I knew Darrow would feel compelled to make an official report. Images of Ra’uf Erkennen’s third eye would be all over the Basement before lunar sunrise, I figured. And most everyone would see it as justice served after that little confession he’d broadcast. Maybe even Darrow would come to see it that way in time. If she lived long enough.

  I grabbed Blalock’s padd full of the greatest invention since the stunner itself and headed for the door. Tony would be happy. Before stepping through, I turned and regarded Darrow one last time. Even unconscious, her fierce beauty I’d noted earlier, bolstered now by seeing firsthand her strength of dedication to right for right’s sake, impressed itself on me. Part of me hated leaving her to her fate.

  “See you around, kid. Good luck with the law.”

  The Favor

  “Hey, Stacks, how’s life in the killing business?” Tony asked as I walked into his office.

  “Tolerable,” I answered, like always. It was our old way of greeting one another after a job.

  I sat down and smiled. He must be happy, since he’s calling me by my preferred handle. I hate Eugene. Tony happy? Everybody happy.

  “Nice work out there,” he said in a rare show of genuine appreciation. “And good work keeping your face off-camera.”

  “Thanks. I see Gregor Erkennen got out in front of the bad news.”

  Tony chuckled. Gregor had wasted no time disavowing his older brother after hearing Ra’uf confess. According to Gregor, the elder Erkennen and his super-scientist had pursued the MESH tech all on their own, outside normal Company protocols. Gregor’s story explained both why Ra’uf had hid MESH’s development in Darkside from his own brother and why the Erkennen Faction had originally reported Blalock’s actions as corporate espionage. There’d been a power play within the faction too, discovered by Gregor after Blalock had disappeared. And Ra’uf had lost.

  “You sure the Brothers Erkennen weren’t in on it together?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He said it in a way that raised my eyebrows. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute.”

  Tony waited.

  “Was Gregor Erkennen your little bird on the inside?”

  Tony’s face was uncharacteristically unexpressive. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Like usual, he kept his hole cards to himself. Tony doesn’t like sharing secrets he doesn’t have to, not even with me.

  “Well, that opportunistic little…” I marveled at the human capacity for betrayal. “What about the MESH? What happens to it?”

  “Gregor will have a distribution plan to me by Monday.”

  “Distribution plan?”

  “Protection against stunners is an advantage,” Tony said. Then, after a beat: “Unless everyone has it.”

  My eyebrows went up again. “So you’re giving it to all the factions?”

  “Along with the Mark IIs,” he said. “My people are looking into how to upgrade the MESH to protect against the new stunner.”

  So Gregor Erkennen had uncovered his brother’s plans after what looked like simple espionage by a wayward employee, plotted with Tony to get Ra’uf out of the way, and was now in charge of the family business. And set to make a huge personal profit when the other four factions ponied up for the new tech.

  “Keeping the balance by keeping everyone without an advantage over the others,” I said, impressed. “Mutually assured protection.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And you get to be the Company hero by handing everyone access to the new tech.”

  Tony was nothing if not a showman. A real natural at the theater of running the Company. He winked like he knew I was thinking that, and that sliver of human cleverness made the machinelike façade of his face all the more terrifying.

  “Nice insurance policy for the status quo, too,” I said.

  Tony grinned. “I thought so too.”

  I sighed my satisfaction at successfully closing another contract. My bank account was bigger. My boss was happy. Life was good.

  “What about you, Stacks? I’m feeling generous today. You got paid, sure … a bonus, maybe, or…”

  He left the air empty for me to fill it with a favor. I thought it over. Whether he had a real desire to reward me or recognized an opportunity to do me a kindness he’d ask to be repaid one day, I wasn’t sure. I decided it didn’t really matter.

  “Well, there’s one thing.”

  Tony waited.

  I cleared my throat. This would be tricky. “The marshal. Darrow.”

  “What about her, Eugene?”

  Gah. Not a good start.

  “She was a big help. Without her, I’d never have found Blalock. And even if I had—we were outnumbered and out-teched. I hate to see her rotting in a cell, stripped of her badge, for only doing her job.”

  Tony frowned. “She disobeyed a direct order from me. She’s lucky to be alive.”

  “You asked what I wanted, Tony.” I shrugged like
it didn’t really matter to me, like she hadn’t saved my life while I reveled in Ra’uf Erkennen’s pain. I hoped he’d buy it. “Up to you.”

  Tony Taulke eyed me for a moment: a hint of the cold blue mixed with the businessman’s calculated stare. “If she’s so good, maybe I should hire her, then, and pack you off to Planitia Prime.”

  It was an empty threat. I was the best corporate enforcer in the business, and Tony knew that. It’s why I worked for the Taulkes and not one of the other factions.

  “Retirement on Mars? Me?” I made a joke of it. “That’ll be the day.”

  He held me in his steely stare a moment longer, then burst out laughing. “All right, then. I’ll see that she’s reinstated—only as a special favor to you, Stacks. But there need to be consequences for her disobeying orders.”

  “I reckon so.”

  “I’ll leave that up to the Service to decide. Nothing career-ending, though.”

  “Fair enough.” I rose and gathered my coat and hat. I’d have to get a new MESH set made, and soon. “See you around, Tony.”

  I left the boss’s office and headed for The Slate to shoot the shit with Mickey Stotes and have a Scotch and a beer. Or maybe six. Quality downtime was something I’ve begun to appreciate more and more since passing the half-century mark. It’s the sunnier side of becoming less patient with bullshit as you get older.

  Maybe, after I slept off today’s revels, I’d hop the Hearse back to Darkside and visit Minnie. She’d seemed anxious to have me spend some quality downtime with her. Up and down time, actually.

  Yeah, exchanging pleasantries with Minnie might be just the thing—a pleasurable distraction until Tony called me in to execute a new contract.

  Pun intended.

  About Chris Pourteau

  Chris Pourteau has been a professional technical writer and editor for twenty-five years. His first novel, Shadows Burned In, won the 2015 eLite Book Award Gold Medal for Literary Fiction. In November 2015, he edited and produced the collection Tails of the Apocalypse, which features short stories set in different apocalyptic scenarios with animals as main characters. He recently co-helmed a sequel of sorts, Chronicle Worlds: Tails of Dystopia—a similar collection of animal-centric stories, this time set in various existing dystopian worlds of their authors—with Future Chronicles Series Editor Samuel Peralta. Among novel-length works, Chris recently co-authored a Sci-Fi series with David Bruns (also in this collection) set in Nick Webb’s Legacy Fleet Kindle world (a kind of Battlestar Galactica meets Aliens universe). You can find that series here.

  If you enjoyed this story featuring SynCorp assassin-for-hire Stacks Fischer, be on the lookout in 2018 for an entire novel series by Bruns and Pourteau that details the rise of the Syndicate Corporation in the wake of Earth’s climatic apocalypse. Stacks will be back as a featured character in that series. If you’d like to know when to expect him, email Chris at c.pourteau.author@gmail.com and put “Stacks” in the subject line. He’ll keep you on a super-secret list and update you when there’s news about the series. Feel free to drop him a line and just say howdy, too.

  To keep up with Chris’s authorial antics, subscribe to his newsletter. He’ll send you free stuff and promises not to spam.

  Chris lives in College Station, Texas, with his wife, son, and two dogs.

  The Firebug and the Pharaoh

  By Daniel Arenson

  MAIREAD “FIREBUG” MCQUEEN LOVED THREE THINGS: a good romp in bed, an ice-cold beer, and killing aliens.

  Today she was hoping for all three.

  She leaned back in her Firebird’s cockpit, kicked off her boots, and slapped her bare feet onto the dashboard. She tossed back her red hair, lit a cigar, and took a puff.

  “All right, lads,” Mairead said, speaking into her comm. “We do this quick and easy. We’ll be in and out before they know what hit ’em.” She glanced out the cockpit at the starfighter beside her. “Sort of how you bang a lass, Pharaoh.”

  Ramses “Pharaoh” al Masri, the pilot flying nearby, flipped her off. Mairead gave him a wink.

  She shoved down the throttle, and her Firebird blazed forth.

  “Try to keep up, lads.” She blew a smoke ring, charging through space. “Last one there does our laundry.”

  Ramses stormed forward at her side, his starfighter just barely keeping up. She could practically hear him cringe through the comm.

  “I’m not touching your unmentionables,” he said.

  Mairead snorted. “Unmentionables? What the muck are you, the Queen of England?”

  “You know I’m descended of Egypt’s great pharaohs,” Ramses said. “Show some respect.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll show you my freckled arse if you beat me to the planet.”

  The other Firebirds raced close behind them. They were fifteen starfighters, an entire squad, all under Mairead’s command. She was only twenty-three. She was the youngest pilot here. But she was also the best damn pilot the Heirs of Earth had.

  And she never let anyone forget it.

  Even now, as she charged to battle, Mairead gave a showy barrel roll. Her starfighter’s twin engines left a double helix of fire.

  Mairead loved serving on large starships like the ISS Jerusalem, cavernous frigates one could get lost in. She loved fighting on planets, the sun baking her hair, the ground firm beneath her feet. But she loved flying her Firebird. This small starfighter, just large enough for one pilot—this was true freedom.

  The fleet’s hulking warships were far behind her now. Only a handful of Firebirds flew here. Around Mairead spread the galaxy in all its splendor. Countless stars. A great spiral arm that spilled across the distance. Nothing but open space and adventure.

  And somewhere out there, beyond the darkness, too far to see, Earth waited.

  At least, that’s what the legends said. Mairead wasn’t sure she believed Earth existed. Oh, she had said her vows like everyone else. When she had joined the Heirs of Earth, she had professed her belief in Earth, had sworn to bring humanity home. But it seemed laughable. An actual homeworld for humanity?

  There were thousands of alien civilizations in this galaxy. They all had planets of their own. All but humans.

  For thousands of years, we wandered the darkness, Mairead thought. Hiding. Hunted. Dying. A species without a home.

  So no, maybe Earth did not truly exist. Maybe, as many claimed, humans had always been homeless, doomed to forever wander the galaxy, fleeing the hunters.

  But Mairead was no animal of prey. She would not be hunted.

  I am the huntress, she thought.

  And there ahead she saw it. Their destination.

  From here, it was only a green dot, soon growing into a sphere. The jungle world of Saropia.

  “If the galaxy has an arsehole, it’s this planet,” Mairead muttered.

  “Language!” Ramses said.

  She scoffed. “Sorry, Mother.”

  The fifteen Firebirds flew closer.

  Saropia grew larger, soon filling half their field of vision. A rainforest covered the equatorial regions, fading to grasslands, deserts, and finally hinterlands and frozen poles. It was a nice world, as far as they went. Most worlds were lifeless, airless chunks of rock. Saropia was lush with life. That was its blessing—but also its curse.

  Pretty much every plant and animal on the planet would kill you.

  “Why the hell did humans ever bother settling here?” Mairead muttered.

  “They didn’t settle here,” Ramses said softly. “They’re hiding here.”

  “Mucked up place to hide, if you ask me,” Mairead said. “They say there are mosquitos the size of horses, venomous trees with claws on their branches, and Ra damn dinosaurs. Dinosaurs, Pharaoh! Giant reptiles who’ll bite off your tadger if you pull it out to piss.”

  “Language!” Ramses said again. “But yes, you’re right. Nobody in their right mind would settle Saropia. Which is why, I presume, the human colonists chose it. The Peacekeepers Corps, the Skra-Shen E
mpire, or anyone else who hunts us would have to be mad to visit. Of course humans would hide here.”

  “Lovely idea,” Mairead muttered. “At least until the dinos start chomping their wee tadgers, and we’re called in to save ’em.” She sighed. “No matter. I’ve always wanted to kick a dino up the arse. Good day for it.”

  They flew onward toward the planet. The call had come in only yesterday. Only a few words, sent into the darkness.

  Only fifty of us remain. We are human. We are hunted. Help us, Heirs of Earth!

  And so the Heirs of Earth were coming to help.

  Whenever humans were in danger—the Heirs of Earth would be there.

  We are a homeless species, Mairead thought. Endangered. Scattered across a thousand worlds. Aliens hunt us everywhere. But we are not powerless. We have the Heirs of Earth.

  The fifteen starfighters plunged into the planet’s atmosphere, ionizing the air. They dived down like flaming comets, moving faster than sound. The rich, yellow sky spread around them, filled with golden haze and blankets of silver clouds. They slowed down, then dived through the clouds, emerging into curtains of rain. The wet sheets swayed and shimmered around them. Jungles spread below, covering the land, parting only for a snaking river. It felt like flying through an oil painting, still wet and blending and changing with every brush stroke.

  Freedom, Mairead thought. Beauty.

  She wondered what Earth looked like—assuming it was real. She had never seen Earth, of course. No human had in two thousand years. But she had heard tales. They said Earth’s sky was blue, her forests green, her fields golden. The description sounded drab to Mairead. She imagined that in real life, Earth would have a million shades like this planet, but less like a dramatic oil painting. More like a watercolor painting, gentle and beautiful.

  Maybe Earth is real, Mairead thought. Maybe someday I’ll fly in that sky too. Maybe someday I’ll fly not to battle but to—

  Dark shapes rose from the jungle ahead, tearing her from her thoughts.

  Mairead leaned forward, staring.

  “What the hell?” She squinted. “Are those enemy ships or...”