Flux Runners

by William Joseph Roberts

  “Do not move,” Hanns ordered. Un-holstering his sidearm, he pointed it in Willy’s direction.

  “What the hell, Hanns? I just said take care. Is it offensive or something in German?” Willy asked with a sarcastic laugh as he slowly turned and raised his hands.

  “Not you, Mr. Murphy. Please step aside and do not interfere.” Hanns held his weapon steady as he sidestepped and aimed at a target beyond Big Willy.

  “Okay, Hanns? I don’t get why…”

  “Andy Kleszinski! Surrender yourself and no harm will come to you.”

  Willy spun around to see Andy blankly staring at Hanns. “What in the hell, Hanns? On what charges? He’s one of our crew.”

  “He is to be arrested on sight if he boards this station,” Hanns said coldly. “I have also alerted station security that there is a possible situation and they will arrive momentarily.”

  “On what charges, Hanns?” Willy asked.

  “On charges of sabotage and the destruction of Martian Imperial assets.”

  “Wait…” Andy said in a questioning tone. “I fixed a bunch of stuff the last time we were here, not break it. I spent like two days helping Fritz to bypass and reroute lines because of a faulty relief manifold.”

  “Unfortunately, I must inform you that you did not, in fact, fix anything, Mr. Klesenski,” Hanns said coldly.

  “Well, hell, let me get down to engineering to talk to Fritz and see what’s up. Maybe we can figure something out,” Andy said as he started down the few steps from the airlock.

  “This is your last warning, Mr. Kleszinski. I do not want to shoot you, but I will if I must. You will be arrested if you step foot off of your ship.”

  “Whoa, now hold on Hanns,” Trae shouted as he exited the hatch. Cautiously he put his hands up and turned to Andy. “What the hell did you do this time?”

  “If Andy steps off the ship, Hanns has to arrest him,” Big Willy said.

  “But I need to go see Fritz down in engineering,” Andy argued.

  “Ha! Um … How about, no,” Trae said, laughing. “I suggest you get back on the ship.”

  “Hanns! Old buddy, old pal!” Tiff cheerfully shouted. She ran over to Hanns and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a big hug. Her eyes went wide and locked onto the gun in his hands. She took a slow step backward. “Hey, Hanns, um, what’s with the gun, man?”

  “If you would please, Mrs. Crowley, take a step back,” Hanns requested. He brushed Tiffany aside to clear her from his line of sight. I am afraid that Mr. Kleszinski must be arrested if he steps off the ship.”

  “What the hell, dude,” Tiff said, fussing at Andy. “Not even off the ship yet and you’re causing problems? Dude, that shit just ain’t cool.”

  “What’s up?” Rachel said as she exited the airlock. She stopped and looked from Hanns to Andy. “What did you do?”

  “Hanns is going to shoot Andy,” Tiff replied.

  “Hanns isn’t going to shoot Andy,” Willy said. “Are ya Hanns?” He crossed his arms and looked back at the Martian dock master.

  Hanns dryly swallowed. “That has yet to be determined, Mister Murphy,” he replied.

  “Ha! Hell, go ahead. No one will miss him anyways,” Fergus laughed. He sidestepped Rachel and exited the airlock. “Hey, Hanns!” Fergus waived. “Am I good to go?”

  “Yes, Mr. Coram. You may disembark.”

  “Okay, cool. Good luck Andy,” Fergus said. He slapped Andy on the back as he passed then turned and extended his arm to Rachel. “Dear?”

  “Why I’d be honored, good sir.” She half curtsied and wrapped her arm into his. “Toodles.” Rachel waved to Andy with her free hand as they walk out of the customs office.

  “Okay, so are me and Tiff good as well, Hanns?” Trae asked.

  Andy shifted uncomfortably. “So, you’re all just going to leave me here?”

  “Pretty much.” Trae smiled over at Andy. “If you did go and put your nose into other people’s business you wouldn’t be in this predicament. I’m going to assume that me and Tiff are good,” he said, turning back to Hanns.

  “Yes. The both of you may disembark, Mr. Crowley.”

  “Good, let’s go, Tiff,” Trae directed as he walked away from the airlock.

  “Aww, but I wanted to see what happens,” Tiff said.

  “Andy does something stupid. Hanns shoots him, Andy dies, then end,” Trae said. “Now let’s go.”

  “Andrew Raymond Kleszenski!” Mel’s voice echoed from within the depths of the airlock.

  “Oh hell,” Andy cringed. “Hey, Hanns, it was just jail, right?”

  “Don’t do it, Andy,” Big Willy said.

  “What the hell have you done now, Andy?” Melanie shouted as she stepped from the airlock. “We haven’t even gotten off of the ship and you have a gun pointed at you. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you that you bring this sort of thing on yourself?” Melanie waived with a quick salute toward Hanns. “Hey, Hanns.” She promptly turned and slapped Andy in the back of the head. “What the hell did you do, Andy?”

  Andy rubbed at the back of his head. “I’m not even entirely sure yet.”

  Melanie gritted her teeth, glaring at Andy. “What are the charges, Hanns?”

  “Sabotage of the station’s main power relays, sabotage of the station’s environmental systems, and destruction of imperial property.”

  “What in the hell, Andy? Really?” Melanie slapped him across the back of the head again.

  “Don’t reset his brain too hard, Mel,” Willy said. “You might knock him forward and Hanns will have to shoot.”

  “So…?” Melanie shrugged.

  “Hanns has to arrest him if he steps foot on the station,” Willy said.

  “And what happens then, Hanns?” She crossed her arms and braced herself for the answer.

  Hanns cleared his throat. “Incarceration until he can be transported to the prison mining facility.”

  Melanie snapped her gaze back to Andy. “Well, hell. That’s actually kinda tempting.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Andy said.

  Doug emerged from the airlock and stopped abruptly. He looked from Hanns to Andy and back to Hanns.

  “Hey, Hanns,” Doug said with a wave. “We’re still cool to dock, right?”

  “Yes, sir, Captain Rackham,” Hanns said.

  “Okay, good. Just making sure. So what’s with the gun then?”

  “Andy’s dumb ass broke their station the last time we were here and now he isn’t allowed off the ship,” Melanie said.

  Doug tilted his head with a quizzical look at Hanns. “Why haven’t you just arrested him then?”

  “Per the inner system trade agreement, your ship constitutes sovereign soil. My jurisdiction ends at that point of entry. I cannot cross the border to issue or carry out a warrant without the trade consortium’s approval.

  “Oh, okay,” Doug said then looked back toward Andy. “Get back on the ship, dumb ass. Don’t step foot off of it unless you want Hanns to shoot you.” Doug turned back to Hanns and waved. “See Hanns? Problem solved.” Doug slid his hands into his pockets and walked down the corridor toward the station’s promenade.

  “He’s all yours, Hanns. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so over it,” Melanie said, following Doug down the corridor.

  “Um…Mel,” Andy said. “You aren’t going to help me?”

  “Nope,” Melanie shouted over her shoulder. “Just do what Doug said. Turn around and you’ll be helping yourself.”

  Andy stared at Hanns.

  Hanns stared at Andy.

  Andy slid his foot forward as if to take a step off the ship and onto the station.

  Hans pulled back the hammer on his pistol.

  The sound of running footfalls echoed from the corridor that led to the station’s promenade.

  “Security is almost here, Mr. Kleszinski,” Hanns said.

  “All right, all right. Fine, I’ll stay on the ship,” Andy said. Reluctantly he turned, making
his way back onto the ship.

  cHAPTER 7

  The Betty

  Sol system asteroid belt

  May 23rd, 2176 / 0746 hrs (Betty time)

  “T o...Carry on!” Wes bellowed as he strummed at an imaginary guitar. The tinny tune blared power chords over the bridge intercoms. He lurched and swayed around the bridge to the rhythm of the tune.

  “Wes! Hey, Wes! Geek!” Doug shouted through cupped hands.

  Wes jumped with a start.

  “How in the hell are you supposed to monitor the scanners when you aren’t even at your station?”

  “Sorry, Cap, I just got sucked into it. It’s such a good song that I couldn’t help myself.”

  “You’d better, or you won’t be sailing anywhere anymore,” Doug said. “You’ll be floating away.”

  Wes’s eyes bulged wide. “Aye Captain!” He rushed to his station and turned down the volume.

  “Good, now what’s our status?”

  “Um...one sec,” Wes turned down the music to a lower level. “Nothing on infrared. Standard radio chatter. Active scanners are offline and passive systems show a pair of class J martian mining vessels parked on a rock just over sixty thousand klicks away. But… Huh, that’s weird.” A perplexed look contorted his face.

  “But what?”

  “There’s another transponder signal out there, but no data attached to identify the ship. Just like, hey, we’re here, don’t run into us, but we aren’t going to tell you who we are.”

  “That could be our target.” Doug excitedly looked over Wes’s shoulder at the console readout.

  “Or it could be a pirate,” Wes added. “Well, another pirate ship besides us, I mean.”

  “It’s possible,” Doug admitted. “Are they close enough to get a visual?”

  “Maybe. Hang on, let me see.” Wes switched the main viewscreen to an image of the expansive asteroid field. Rocks of all shapes and sizes tumbled and rotated within view.

  “Where is it?” Doug leaned against the back of the Geek’s chair.

  “The camera is pointed right at it. It should be about eight hundred klicks off the port side and thirty degrees nose high.”

  “Just behind that big rock then, I’d guess. Dammit.” Doug slapped the back of the chair.

  Wes turned in his seat to face Doug. “Most likely, Cap. The only reason we know where they are is because of the repeater beacons out in the field. They relay transponder data so you aren’t temporarily blinded because your line of sight is blocked.”

  Doug straightened and let out a frustrated breath. “How close is that rock to us?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to power up the radar to tell you. But if we do that, then they might pick up the signal and our cover will be blown.”

  “Well if it were pirates, they’d be running completely dark,” Doug said.

  “Most likely,” Wes said. “Any corporate or independent ships would be broadcasting to keep themselves legit. Even if their comms had been damaged, there are ways to transmit and let others know where you are.”

  Doug took a deep breath. “Let’s do this thing then,” he said as he walked back to the captain’s chair.

  “Wait, what if it isn’t them?”

  “It has to be them. Who else would be running legal but silent?” Doug sat back in his seat and flipped on the ship’s intercom. “All hands on deck! Target in sight.”

  “Arrrg, Yo ho,” Wes sang.

  “Stop it!” Doug glared at Wes.

  Wes lowered head, looking abashed. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.”

  Doug sighed. “I know…,” he said, then grinned and pressed the comm button again. “Sail on the horizon!”

  Wes giggled then excitedly turned back to his station.

  “Willy, lock her down and muck up the engines enough so it looks like we’re dead in the water. Don’t let her get cold though. I want to be able to go full throttle at the first sign of trouble.”

  “Trae, Fergus, get prepped and on standby at the airlock. Cheezy to the bridge.” Doug released the comm button with a flourish. “Wes, you’re with me.”

  “Oh my God, I get to be part of the boarding party?” He nearly squealed, barely able to contain his excitement.

  “Yes. But just remember that we have to take that ship quickly,” Doug said. “Keep your head down and take control of their systems once you get on board. Now turn on the distress signal as soon as Cheezy relieves you and go get yourself ready.”

  “Aye aye, Captain!” Wes saluted. “Yo ho ho!”

  cHAPTER 8

  The Betty / Airlock Docking port

  Sol system asteroid belt

  May 23rd, 2176 / Morning (Betty time)

  “C

  ap.” Rachel’s voice cracked over the intercom.

  Doug pressed a button on the airlock corridor comm panel. “Go ahead, Cheezy.”

  “Bogey is about to knock on our door, Cap,” Rachel said. “They keep trying to hail us, but I did like you said. I mucked up the signal and gave them an ear full of noise.”

  Doug turned back toward the airlock door. Trae and Fergus stood at the end of the short corridor. They prepared themselves, checking over their own and each other’s weapons and gear.

  “Are you two ready?” Doug asked

  “Yup,” Trae said without looking up from the display on his odd-looking weapon.

  “You betcha,” Fergus said.

  Doug proudly smiled at the two crewmen. “Good. Keep your eyes and ears open. Should be any time now.”

  “Copy that, Cap,” Trae acknowledged.

  “So where the hell is the Geek?” Fergus asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

  “Hell, I dunno. I thought he was with the two of you.”

  “I’m right here,” Wes said proudly as he strode into the docking port.

  Trae snorted a laugh. “Really man? Oh my dear God. We’re all going to die, aren’t we? That’s the only explanation. We’re all going to die and the Tallyman decided to have a sense of humor about it today.”

  “Hu, what the hell are you going on about?” Fergus turned and suddenly choked on a laugh. “Or ... we’ll go down as the worst space pirates in history.”

  “Um ...Wes …” Doug scratched his head as he took in the image before him. Wes wore full pirate regalia, complete with a red velvet jacket, dark wig and an oversized feather in his wide-brimmed hat. Doug stifled a laugh. “Um…What’s with the pirate outfit, man?”

  “This may be my one and only chance to be a pirate,” Wes said. “So, by God, I’m going to do it right!” He planted his hands on his hips and stood proudly, smiling a wide, cheesy grin.

  “Oookay then.” Doug shook his head in disbelief and turned back to the other two. “Trae, Fergus, you two sweep the ship and secure engineering. Wes will stay with me and we’ll head for the bridge.” Doug’s eyes narrowed at Wes with a stern, questioning gaze. He reached into his coat and produced an odd-looking gun that he tossed at Wes, which he barely caught. “Do you know how to use that?”

  Wes held the gun like a delicate butterfly in his left palm. He caressed the lines of cold black steel with the tip of one nervous, chubby finger. “My little friend,” he lovingly said the gun.

  “Cap,” Rachel chimed in over the comms. “Hard dock imminent, they are on final approach.”

  Doug quickly scooped the gun from Wes’s palm with a frustrated huff. “Look.” Doug pointed, then opened the breach of the pistol. “You have four rounds.” He held out the weapon for Wes to see then closed the breach. “Flip this lever and it’ll be hot and ready to go. Just point and click. Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not touch whoever you shoot unless you want to get zapped yourself.” He handed the weapon back to Wes.

  “Oh, okay, cool.” Wes longingly stared at the odd pistol.

  “Hey, have you tested this yet?” Fergus asked as he fiddled with a strange flashlight shaped object mounted under the barrel of his tactical shotgun.

  “Nope, not ye
t,” Trae said. “I haven’t had the time or a brain-dead sucker willing to be a lab rat for me. I considered just finding a random mouth breather, but that seemed too cruel. This will make for a great test run, though. Just remember that at max power, you should have about a thirty-foot range.”

  “What does this one do?” Fergus asked as he looked over the odd weapon.

  “It’s my latest variant of the original incapacitator,” Trae said. “There should be an almost instantaneous reaction.” He held up his beloved auto-shotgun and pointed to an odd pear-shaped object mounted under the barrel. “And this is my new and improved brown sound emitter. A two-second burst within forty feet and the target’s insides will be outside.” He chuckled with a gleeful grin.

  “Wait, what?” Fergus shook his head with disbelief.

  “You made a shit gun?” Wes laughed.

  “Yup.” Trae smiled proudly. Fergus held up a fist to Trae, who bumped it without even looking.

  “What the hell does this do?” Wes asked as he looked over the thick pistol in his hand.

  “It’s a taser pistol,” Doug said. “Four rounds of fifty-thousand-volt hell. You will hit anything that you point it at up to twenty feet.”

  Wes sighed, then clasped the gun to his chest. “Thank you, Cap. I love it.”

  “Cap,” Rachel chimed in over the intercom.

  “Go ahead Cheezy.”

  “Hard dock in five.”

  “Lock and load bitches!” Fergus cheered and pumped his shotgun in the air over his head.

  “Yup.” Trae chambered a round and let the slide move forward with a loud metallic clunk.

  “Four.”

  Apprehensive, Doug turned to Wes. “You ready?”

  “Three.”

  “Yup,” Wes said. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He flipped the prime switch on the taser pistol and drew his Cutlass. “Avast ye scurvy dogs!”

  “Two.”

  Trae and Fergus glanced at one another, then broke out into hysterical laughter.