by Josh Busch
***
"As long as I'm connected," Shila announced in his earpiece as Dickson took up chase after his crew, "I think I'll take the liberty of downloading a few hundred terabytes of information out of the servers."
“You’ll do no such thing,” Dickson commanded, feeling the dread again.
Shila’s holographic face turned to face him from the disk. “And why not? This is the perfect-“
“Where exactly do you plan to store that information? You don’t have nearly that much storage available.”
“I can stream it to the Punjab Lasso, of course.”
“And have the station computer bots scan right through the false cloak on the ship? Are you insane?”
Shila paused. She seemed flustered. “I can compensate…”
“No, and that’s an order. I’m sure you have good intentions, but the access into the system is a last resort – I don’t want them tracking us through it. They may or may not know that I’ve had this up my sleve, but I sure as hell don’t want to give them the opportunity.”
Shila didn’t reply to that. Her face disappeared from the holographic display, and Dickson dashed forward to catch up with Gaileen. She wasn’t the most graceful runner after consuming so much booze, but damned if she wasn’t fast. The pair rounded a sharp corner halfway to the flight deck – and almost slammed into Gallagher, who had come to a stop in the dead center of the passageway.
Just as Dickson was about to shout at his second in command, he heard Vena’s angry voice from somewhere ahead of them.
“Get out of my way, giant,” Vena hissed at someone Dickson couldn’t see.
He moved Gallagher out of the way to find – well, how about that. Vena was standing only a few feet away from Hopo, who had somehow reappeared just as was needed. The enormous islander, like all the humans still left on the remnants of Earth, was enormous and blocked more than half of the passageway. Unlike most, however, there was a good amount of muscle behind the fat on his body. Hopo could overpower just about anyone Dickson knew of.
“Heard ‘bout the Flasha’ in tha’ ba’,” Hopo boomed, his accent thick and groggy. Dickson wondered if he’d been sleeping. “I worried some ‘bout mah crew. You runnin’ away from tha’ ba’, t’ward mah ship. I ain’t likin’ that much.”
“I’m trying to get away from that mess,” Vena replied. “I had nothing to do with it!”
“See, ‘dat tha’ funny ting’ – I look at ya’ shoes and dey’ be where tha’ Flasha’ be. Dey’ be all scuffed and black like ‘dat. Only one crew know to do ‘dat, and ‘dat be my crew.”
“Look, you moron-”
“He’s new, Vena,” Dickson called out from behind. She snapped around, revealing the sidearm she’d somehow produced during her run. She aimed it at his head, but Dickson ignored it. She wouldn’t shoot him…not yet, anyways. “He has no idea who you are.”
“Ya’ know dis’ gahl’, boss?” Hopo called out, sounding annoyed at Vena’s turning her back to him. “Friend oh’ yous?”
“She used to be on our crew,” Gallagher called out. “Then she went pirate on us, ironically.”
“Only because you-” Vena began, but she ducked suddenly as Hopo’s enormous fist burst through the spot she’d been in. Obviously, Dickson’s largest crewmate didn’t trust the girl one bit. He probably wasn’t wrong, either.
“Ya’ want me crush her, boss? Can do it, ya’ know. No problem.”
“Not necessary, Hopo.”
Vena seized the opportunity. She tapped her toes against the metal floor, and that was the only warning they had for the Flasher she had stored in the other boot. Dickson, who’d been staring right at her, was prepared for her this time. He barely got his hand to his collar in time to activate the flash screen before the area was lit up around them.
The rest of his crew had been too distracted by Hopo’s actions to expect a second flash so quickly. They fell to the ground again, temporarily blinded by the terrible device. Hopo fell too, his body crashing against the deck with a loud thud.
Vena ran, hopping over the islander’s groaning body as if it were a hurdle. Fortunately, Dickson could see just fine and took off after her down the hall. “You’re outnumbered, Vena! Give up the artifact and I’ll tell them not to hurt y-”
Her hand shot back as she ran and a beam of red light flashed past him. She was shooting at him! Well, so much for giving up. He yanked his sidearm off of its holster and fiddled with the settings on it, leaving it at ‘low-grade stun’. Dickson didn’t want to hurt her – nothing he had said before had been a lie. He missed her more than he had known, and he wasn’t ready to let her get away again.
Another beam shot past him, narrowly missing his right ear lobe. She wasn’t playing around, he realized – and she’d always been a pretty good shot. Dodging left and right around bolts, Dickson dove after her down the assorted halls and passageways of GI2 in the general direction of the flight deck. He raised his own gun and tried for a few potshots, but she seemed to instinctively know when to dodge, because every shot went wide.
As they maneuvered around various civilians and maintenance robots, she fired again – and the shot struck home. He saw the beam hit the front of his blazer, and he winced internally as he waited for whatever setting Vena had set the shot for – but nothing happened. He felt his clothes; they were warmer than usual, she’d definitely gotten a hit. Why wasn’t he stunned, or worse?
She must have had the gun set on light mode, he realized. That was the only explanation. Her lack of planning had saved him, but she certainly wouldn’t make that mistake again. Once her weapon registered the hit and Vena realized she was still being chased, she would set it to what she really wanted – and he wouldn’t get lucky again.
They rounded another corner. Dickson risked a glance at where they were: Deck C – Omega. They were getting very close to the flight deck, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do once they got there. He wasn’t even sure which ship she would head for. That was information he probably should have gotten. He didn’t have his head in the game today – Vena had wrecked his normally perfect concentration.
Well, he could fix that. “Shila,” he huffed out. The high-speed chase was beginning to wear on him. He was afraid Vena would get her second wind and leave him in the dust. Then he wouldn’t have her or the artifact. What a mess!
“Yes?” Shila replied through Dickson’s earpiece. She didn’t bother forming a holographic display for him to talk to; the disk was in his pocket now and a floating face wouldn’t be useful for him.
“Can you check the ship registries?” Ahead of him, Vena bolted down some stairs. He was hot on her tail, but backed off when the sidearm was aimed up back at him. She shot a volley of beams very nearly past his head. “Does she have any ships down there she can use to get off the station?”
There was a momentary pause as Shila looked up the information with her newfound security clearance. “She has two, actually. The Christine and the…and the Daaé. Well, I guess she’s somewhat of a copycat, huh?”
The references to the classic Leroux novel had not been lost on him. Whatever her reasons had been for naming them along the same lines as the Punjab Lasso, it was obvious she hadn’t named them randomly. “Are you able to disable those ships?”
“Afraid not. Their major systems aren’t connected to those of the station. The most I could do is shut off the repowering cycle they’re running; but I’m reading that they’re both almost completely recharged anyways, so it wouldn’t help.”
“Could you seal the main airlock? Getting to her ship won’t help her if she can’t fly it out.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, I think I could. But…”
“But what?” Dickson shouted impatiently.
“I’m receiving some chatter on the station channels about security teams, Andrew. They’re looking for whoever set off that Flasher – and they al
so know about Gaileen’s hotwiring of the communications system back in the bar. If I start messing with things and blocking off doors that aren’t supposed to be blocked, they’re going to know exactly where we are. I really don’t suggest you try it.”
Dickson cursed mentally, but he knew she was probably right. He wanted to get Vena and the artifact, but it wouldn’t be worth it if they were all caught on the night they were supposed to be retiring from piracy altogether. He couldn’t do that to his crew, no matter what he would lose by restraining himself.
“Alright, then, what do you suggest?” he asked Shila.
“That’s up to you. Why aren’t you shooting at her?”
Dickson wondered that himself, and raised his sidearm just in time to see her doing the same. The beam came directly into his shoulder, and he tensed reflexively. He hoped she hadn’t gotten angry at her mistake and upped her intensity just because the first shot hadn’t gone according to plan.
Again, however, nothing happened. By now, she must have known her first shot had been a dud – her sidearm was registering direct shots with no damage! Why hadn’t she upgraded the-
Dickson felt stupid immediately. Of course. She hadn’t upgraded the intensity of her weapon because she didn’t want to hurt him. All the things he had said to her had been true…perhaps, maybe, she was telling the truth to him too? That she wanted to be with him, and the silly artifact was all that was standing between them? That she was just trying to scare-
“Sorry to interrupt your thoughts,” Shila announced through his earpiece, “but they just put out a station-wide alert. I thought you’d want to hear it.”
The frequency in his ear changed, and a crisp-sounding newswoman had taken over Shila’s voice. “This is an urgent message to all station staff: GI2 security has been made aware of the presence of pirates onboard. Anyone engaged in suspicious conduct is to be reported to station personnel on any wall communicator. In order to avoid panic, do not inform civilians until more information about these invaders is known. All information given to assist in the apprehension of these pirates will be compensated no less than five thousand dollars per tip. I repeat, G12-”
The voice faded out, only to be replaced by Shila. “What do you want to do now? I think what we’re doing should be counted as suspicious.”
A few more red bolts from Vena shot past him, but Dickson was no longer concerned by them. “We need to get Vena back. Besides, even if we can’t catch up with her, we’ll need to be near enough to the Punjab Lasso to get away if things go bad.”
“You’re the boss,” Shila said in finality, though it sounded like she didn’t agree with the plan. Dickson didn’t have time to consider the alternatives. As he bounded down yet another set of stairs, a quick scan of the geography showed they had reached Deck H – the flight deck.