Star Crossed

by C. Gockel

  "I wasn’t too thrilled myself." The anger had evaporated. Now she stood, eyes downcast as if embarrassed. She probably was.

  "How did it get here?" he said. "Was that a holding pen for a kartek or a passage outside?"

  She brought up the mountain graphic and enlarged the medical area. "A passage outside."

  "Yes, I thought so. That’s how they disposed of the bodies."

  She shuddered.

  He put an arm around her. "Come on. We have a K-400 to steal."

  Allysha’s heart still danced a tango in her chest. She hadn’t planned on meeting the wildlife on this planet. Yet another reason to get the hell out of here. Brad blasted the locks on the door marked ‘No admission’ before they left the medical center. Fair enough, too. She’d hate for anybody to walk in on a kartek.

  She made a show of getting out her techpack and sent the command to the security system to fix Brad as being in the control room. She’d already set her own location as her room. Brad checked his tablet, intact on his belt despite his dive and roll through the door, nodded and stepped out into a dark tunnel.

  "Time to blow the lab," he said.

  She sent the command to trigger the detonators. A dull whump and then the sounds of breaking glass, rumbles, clatters, crashes that quickly dwindled into silence.

  He turned on his torch. She took it from his hand and turned the beam down to a glow. "It’s enough for me to see," she said.

  "How?" Amazement colored his tone.

  "My eyes were modified when I was a baby so I could see the same frequencies as the Tors. Come on."

  She led the way through the tunnels to the store room and into the secret warehouse, walking between tall rows of shelves

  "Anything new here?" he asked via his implant.

  "Not that I can see."

  She stopped at a wide, high doorway.

  "The hangar’s through here."

  They slipped through a personnel door set in the larger door into an enormous open space, sparsely lit. New surfaces, pale and smooth, stood out against the darker unworked rock where rock cutters had done their work. This had been a natural cave, shaped and widened for its purpose. Prefab buildings lined a wall, offices and storage space. Only the guardroom glowed with light, a beacon in the dimness. The K-400 cruiser, its wings withdrawn into the fuselage, stood to one side. Sleds and maintenance vehicles were parked in orderly lines. Piles of neatly stacked crates occupied a corner.

  "I’ll take the lead," he said.

  She stood aside for him. The pistol in his hand, he sidled along the wall toward the pre-fabs, squeezing past the fronts of the line of vehicles parked side by side.

  Bright light blinded her.

  She stopped, pulse pounding, as her eyes fought to adjust. Shit. They’d turned on the main lights. Brad grabbed her hand and ducked under the closest sled’s nose. It wasn’t much, but the shadows were deep.

  A motor engaged. Nerves jangling, she peered around the sled. The massive door that sealed the cavern from the jungle rose steadily into the rock. Something huge and dark and noisy appeared in the bay entrance. Fear rippled up her body. And subsided as her brain registered a ship, maneuvering through the opening. A small freighter, snub-nosed and ugly, landed gently on the rock floor not twenty meters from where they hid. She narrowed her eyes against the cloud of fine dust raised by its thrusters.

  As the engines shut down and the craft settled, the cargo door opened and a ramp slid down. Men emerged from the tunnel that led to the main drive.

  "Move it, you fellows," a voice she didn’t recognize said. "The sooner you get that cargo off, the sooner you can go back to bed."

  The men slouched toward the row of sleds where she and Brad hid. Uh-oh. If they needed more than two or three sleds, she and Brad were in trouble.

  "Don’t move, whatever you do," Brad said.

  She hadn’t been intending to. But then again, they could probably hear the thundering of her heart.

  The first sled from the end of the line moved off.

  "I hate these unexpected arrivals," somebody grumbled. "I was dead asleep."

  The next sled’s engine started.

  "Aah. Just think of the money," a man replied.

  The sled slid away, maneuvered around and headed for the freighter.

  The pilot climbed down from the cockpit and walked toward the main tunnel to meet two new arrivals. Allysha stifled the groan. Oh, buckrats. Van Tongeren and Sean.

  "Do you know who he is? The blond one?"

  "His name’s O’Reilly." That was true, after all. And she’d tell him the rest later.

  The three men stopped four meters away. Beyond them, the ground crew shifted cartons and crates out of the freighter and added them to the existing piles.

  "Good trip?" van Tongeren said. He’d raised his voice to be heard above the bangs and crashes and the whine of the sled motors.

  "Yes, uneventful," the pilot said, peeling off his gloves. "The Feds have got their hands full with the Qerran crisis, being very careful not to upset anybody."

  "It’s certainly a useful distraction. Duggan over there can take you to quarters for the night," van Tongeren said.

  The pilot nodded and walked away, dodging a laden sled.

  Van Tongeren stood with his back to her, hands on hips, legs apart. Surveying his domain, no doubt.

  "It’s going well," he said. "The AR70 assault rifles are in demand. We’re going to have to see if we can get some more. Is your Qerran contact ready to collect them?"

  "Yes, they’ll send a ship to pick up," Sean said.

  Her nerves tingled. Qerran contact? Sean had a Qerran contact for rifles? What was that about?

  Van Tongeren chuckled. "I must say, O’Reilly, that wife of yours has done a marvelous job with the IS," van Tongeren said as the last of the cartons was loaded onto a sled.

  "Oh, yes, my Allysha’s one smart lady," O’Reilly said.

  Oh, shit. Oh shit shit shit. She looked at Brad. He’d gone tense. His eyes swiveled to fix on her face. She couldn’t read his expression. She didn’t need this. Not now. "I can explain. Please."

  Sean and van Tongeren started to follow the sled toward the tunnel that led to the warehouse, walking slowly to match its speed as it floated above the ground.

  "Do you think she’s done enough to prove her worth?" Sean asked. "She must be nearly finished."

  Her worth? To what? She glanced around. The load crew had all left the hangar. "I have to hear this," she said to Brad.

  She crept along the wall back the way they’d come, a little behind the two men as they dawdled along, Brad following.

  "Oh, she is. As near as may be. She showed Emment the interface today. In fact, I called Tepich a few days ago. He’s on his way."

  "When do we discuss the contract?" Sean said.

  Van Tongeren grunted. "Later. Don’t worry, you won’t be disappointed."

  They were gone. The secret door clicked into place and the main hangar lights went out. She stopped, crouching in the dark. Allow somebody she didn’t know to take her somewhere to do something else that was definitely illegal? What happened to the divorce? What happened to her half of the money? Why had she ever believed him?

  "Bastard." She ground the word out. "Lying bastard."

  "But your husband."

  Oh, buckrats. She squeezed her eyes shut. What would Brad be thinking? That she was a whoring, lying, cheating bitch? He’d be the sort of man who thought marriage was forever.

  "We’re estranged. I’m getting a divorce." And the sooner the better. And she might just cut off his balls before she did it. Bastard.

  "We need to talk. But first we get off this planet."

  Nerves wriggled in her stomach. She wished she knew him better. She couldn’t tell if he was happy or sad or angry—or what. "I was going to tell you. Later."

  "You will tell me later. As soon as we get that freighter into space." He headed off back down toward the hangar.

  They hurried t
hrough the darkness, the soft thump of their boots loud in the silence. "So not the K-400?"

  "The freighter’s in the way."

  "But I won’t know how to get into the freighter’s systems."

  "It probably won’t be so different from the K-400."

  He sounded so matter-of-fact, as though it was going to be easy. Then again, she didn’t think the procedure was difficult for the K-400. And it was what she did.

  He glanced at his tablet again, checking the movements. Allysha did, too. O’Reilly and van Tongeren had reached the store room. Brad stopped. "It looks like they’ll end up at the control room. They’ll see I’m not there, or anywhere else in the mine according to the security sensors. We have to get out of here. Now."

  15

  Saahren put his hands on her shoulders. "Allysha, I need for the freighter to recognize me so I can fly it. Can you do that?"

  She bit her lip. "Okay. It’ll take a minute or two, though."

  They probably wouldn’t have long but it couldn’t be helped. "Let’s get closer to it, and then as quick as you can."

  They loped across the deserted hangar to where the freighter sat like a bloated insect, all ugly body on squat legs.

  She sat down with her techpack. A projected keyboard appeared. He watched the tiny screen but it meant nothing to him, just scrolling numbers. "I’m finding connections. The ship must have some sort of remote access."

  He knew when she’d found it. More scrolling, more rows of numbers. "What am I looking for?"

  "Authorized pilot. It’s probably secure." He leaned over her shoulder, breathing in the scent of flowers from her hair.

  "Yes, it’s secure. Just a moment." She keyed a few entries. "Pilot’s name is Farsu." Some more entries. He saw the pilot’s name change to Stone. Done. Remarkable.

  She closed the device, put it back into a pouch on her belt and gazed up at him. "It’s all yours." She spoke normally, not through the implant.

  "Can you open the hangar’s external door?" he said.

  "There’s a panel in the office. You do what you have to with the ship and I’ll open the door."

  She slipped away.

  He climbed up the ramp and into the cockpit, where he turned on the red night lights. The configuration was close enough to the ship he’d flown to Chollarc. It had some weaponry, too, a turbo-laser on each flank. Not much, but better than nothing. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use them. He toggled switches, brought up power and told the IS to set course for Chollarc. A clunk and a rumble in the darkness. She’d activated the door. Her feet thumped on the ramp. He closed up as soon as she reached the main deck.

  Lights flared in the hangar. A klaxon blared. Blast. Something had triggered the alarm system. He had to hope he’d have enough time to get clear.

  The freighter rose and drifted toward the bay entrance, out into darkness and pouring rain. A light blinked on the console. Something on approach. Not to here, though. The landing pad on the other side of the mountain. "What’s that coming in?" he said.

  "A Centurion cruiser with a GPR registration, Brad," the ship’s IS said.

  "Coming for me?" Allysha said.

  "Maybe. But you won’t be here." The power surged. The freighter raced toward the clouds, the rain streaming past its shields.

  "We know it’s you, Stone. You’re dead." Van Tongeren’s voice, oozing venom, boomed from the speakers in the bridge. Brad told the IS to turn the volume down.

  The Centurion had altered course, powering toward them in pursuit. Blast. The ship was faster, more maneuverable than the freighter.

  "Can you beat them?" Allysha asked.

  "Probably not. But there are other options." He stared around the cockpit. Keep your heart rate down. Stay cool. There had to be a manual release somewhere. Ah. A yellow lever beside his right foot. He grabbed it and pulled. A panel of the cockpit fascia dropped away, revealing a stick control.

  Saahren shifted the stick sideways and dropped the freighter down into the clouds. He hadn’t flown a combat mission for years and even then he’d flown a fighter, not a cumbersome crate like this one. Wishing he had heads-up display he glanced at the sensor data. He’d gained a few seconds but it wouldn’t be for long. If he could keep close to the mountain or the jungle he could lose the Centurion or it might destroy itself.

  He dived down around the mountain, close to the rocks, then swerved up and over the top. The engines whined in protest. The port aileron warning light flashed. Allysha sat rigid, white-faced, in the second seat.

  The Centurion had already made up lost ground. He skimmed the mountainside as the ship narrowed the distance. If he could force the pilot to make a mistake he might stand a chance. A flare of light. Missile launch. He hauled back on the stick and ducked over the rim of the volcano, into the caldera. The missiles slammed into the rock wall behind him, flinging debris high into the air. He risked a glance at the screen. With the power on the thrusters into the red, engines screaming, the freighter hurtled over the surface of the lake, dodged over the opposite rim and down to the jungle. He flung the stick from side to side, ignoring the protests from the creaking hull, dodging and weaving between the tree tops at breakneck speed. He’d have to hope they made a mistake, and he didn’t. His heart bounced as an energy bolt splattered blue on the starboard shield.

  The Centurion showed in the view screen, above and behind. Saahren flew on, still skimming the tree tops. If he could get back to the protective flank of the mountain he could lure the Centurion in close and fire off a volley of shots… his beam weapons wouldn’t get through those shields but maybe he could unbalance the pilot.

  The freighter lurched and listed to starboard. Red lights flashed and an alarm blared an urgent warning. Strike on the upper rear. Stabilizers taken out on the port side. Saahren fought to keep the nose up. The proximity sensors blared and suddenly disappeared. Too low. He dragged back on the controls. No response. He braced himself as noise exploded all around him. Crashes, cracks, thuds, clangs as the ship tore through the canopy and ground to rest in a tangle of broken forest.

  Saahren thrust the harness away before the ship stopped moving. Allysha hung in her seat, eyes closed. He pressed his fingers to her throat. Please, please don’t be dead. I’ve only just found you. A pulse feathered against his fingers and he breathed again. He had to get her out and fast. The fighter would be back to finish the job. He slapped the quick release on her harness and dragged her down the ramp. With Allysha thrown over his shoulder he stumbled into the surrounding trees and hid behind the largest bole he could find.

  The Centurion’s engines howled as it crossed, examining the wreck site. The flash of the bay opening warned Saahren. He fell to the ground behind his tree, covering Allysha with his body. The boom reverberated in his ears. He lifted his head. The freighter had erupted into a roaring, crackling ball of flame. What sort of idiot fired a missile at such short range? At any rate, the Centurion had disappeared.

  "Allysha?" He knelt beside her, legs aching and sweat stinging as it trickled into grazes on his face. She stirred. "Allysha."

  Her eyelids flickered. He stroked her cheek, all the while aware of trees crowding close, shadows, crackling flame. He’d have to get her away from here.

  "Brad?"

  He almost cried with relief. "Are you hurt?"

  "Nothing… nothing serious. A bit sore. And a headache."

  "Can you get up? We have to find shelter."

  She nodded and tried to sit up. He helped her to her feet and tucked her up against him, his left arm around her waist, the Emson in his right hand. She leaned close, warm against his side.

  The fire growled like a living thing, devouring the remains of the insides of the XP32, sending up steam and acrid black smoke. Only the hull, toughened to withstand the heat of re-entry, was untouched. Flames licked the leaves of the surrounding trees. They wouldn’t last long. It must have rained; the forest was saturated.

  The mountain loomed, a dark mass, thirty meters away
through the trees. Jungles at night were not a good idea for unprotected people. Maybe he could find a cave. And hope it wasn’t inhabited. He tuned his senses to his surroundings. Behind him steam hissed, metal pinged, the heat of the fire seared his back. Beside him Allysha breathed softly. All around the heavy drip of water from sodden leaves punctuated the silence. They were knowns, things he had to consign to the background.

  He urged her forward, toward the mountain, feet squelching in the soaking ground.

  Something snapped to his right. He stopped, straining with his senses, searching the darkness.

  Over there, under the trees, a deeper darkness. He concentrated on it, and hoped against hope that the creature, whatever it was, was as disturbed and frightened as him. It was a little shorter and broader than him, its hide well camouflaged in the jungle. But the eyes glowed and teeth glinted in a slightly opened jaw. He tensed. A kartek. And all he had was a pistol. He raised his gun and fired. The predator howled and disappeared. There would be others; they hunted in packs.

  "Quickly, Allysha, we have to get out of here."

  She nodded "If we can get to the mountain we might be able to hide in the Ptorix workings."

  A second howl reverberated behind him. He whirled and sensed rather than saw the beast advancing at a clumsy run, thudding toward him between the trees. The Emson’s energy beam carved a bright red trace through the darkness and splattered on the beast’s hide. It stopped, shook its head. Holding tight to Allysha he backed away toward the nearest tree trunk. He fired two more shots. The kartek retreated. He dodged behind the tree, grabbed her arm and ran for the jungle’s edge, ears straining for sounds of pursuit. Another howl split the air. She stumbled over a tree root and staggered. He slowed to steady her. He sensed the predator before he saw it, advancing from his left. He grabbed Allysha and ran. The beast’s howl gave him the additional adrenaline spurt he needed to surge free, out from under the trees into the perimeter between the jungle and the solid wall of the mountain, towing her in his wake. Rain sheeted down, trickling into his eyes.