by J G Cressey
“Shouldn’t be far now,” he shouted.
“Let’s hope not,” Tark replied, an edge to his voice.
Laurence turned and followed the little man’s gaze. He was looking at the distant alien base, ghostly pale in the gray air. Something was happening to one of the block-like structures: Multiple silver dots were breaking away from it and rapidly rising into the rumbling, black storm clouds above. Laurence felt his heart thud faster and stronger. “They’re coming,” he bellowed.
With Tark close behind, he leapt off his perch and joined the mass of bodies surging like a swarm controlled by one brain, their destination clear.
Chapter Forty-Three
UNINVITED
As he leaped from the platform, Cal had already decided not to go for any of the unsuspecting pirate’s guns. There was no way of knowing if they were charged or even loaded, and he was unwilling to risk his element of surprise. With his back turned to the sync sphere, the man knew nothing of Cal’s presence until he’d slammed into him. Wrapping an arm around the pirate’s neck, Cal used his other to reach for one of his many knives. With the benefit of the Xcel, his actions were lightning fast, and before the bewildered man could register what was happening, Cal had withdrawn one of the knives and thrown it at the woman with the short, spiky hair. Whether due to blind luck or the Xcel fine-tuning his abilities, the heavy knife span through the air in a blur until the metal handle struck the woman directly on the forehead. She was unconscious before hitting the floor.
Making a clumsy grapple for one of his holstered pistols, the pirate in Cal’s grasp tried to twist around, almost breaking his own neck in the process. With no intention of fighting fair, Cal slammed his forehead into the side of the man’s head, knocking him out cold. Before dropping to the floor, however, the pirate’s body convulsed as multiple pulse blasts tore mercilessly through his frame. Having predicted this, Cal was already throwing himself to the ground, aiming for the relative safety of the nearest console.
He wasn’t quick enough.
The pulse blast spun his body in mid-air, and as he crashed to the deck, a searing pain ignited across his ribs on the right side of his body. Even with the benefit of the Xcel, the pain was excruciating. Ignoring it as best he could, he scrambled back against the console, pressing himself hard against its lifesaving cover. Pounding vibrations rocked his spine as the pulse blasts pummelled the console. He stayed put, putting his full trust in the robustness of The Orillian’s construction.
At least the helix bomb had done its job. That was something.
Eventually, the blasting ceased and was replaced by a stony, almost eerie silence. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled Cal’s nose. He looked at his torso to see that the right side of his sync suit had been scorched away, revealing a bloody mess. He winced, eyes pressed shut as he swore under his breath. Even with the Xcel, he’d not been quick enough. But he wasn’t finished yet, not by a long shot. Trying to push the thoughts of the injury and its implications aside, he searched for Kaia’s discarded control wand. As it turned out, he was practically sitting on the little device. Gratefully, he plucked it off the floor and slid it through a hole in his sleeve—a small piece of luck in a huge crap pile of misfortune.
A man’s voice broke the silence. “Guns are working again, boss.”
“No shit, you imbecile. No one fires another shot ‘til I give the order, got it?”
Cal recognized the voice; it was the hawk-faced man, Rekvit. Unfortunately, he suddenly sounded far more composed than Cal would have liked.
“Do you hear that, young man?” Rekvit shouted. “No one’s going to fire another shot until I give the order. Now, I won’t give that order if you go ahead and stand up with your hands raised.”
Ignoring the empty promise, Cal fixed his attentions on the lifeless form of the pirate who lay sprawled in a bloody mess close by. It seemed his appearance had shocked them enough that they’d accidentally shot their comrade, or maybe they just didn’t give a shit. Grinding his teeth as his pain flared, Cal stretched out a leg, hooked his foot under the strap of the bolt rifle still slung across the dead man’s back, and pulled the body towards him. Even with his injury, the Xcel made the act virtually effortless.
“I reckon he might be dead, Rek. I think I caught him with one my shots.”
“I don’t think so,” Rekvit replied. “You’re not dead, are you, young man? If you’re unable to stand, just go ahead and yell out or crawl your way into the open, and we’ll come and patch you up.”
If there wasn’t so much at stake and he wasn’t in so much pain, Cal might have laughed at that.
“Don’t waste our time,” Rekvit continued. “You’re sorely outnumbered. How long do you think this will last?”
Cal set about removing all of the dead pirate’s guns. As well as the old-fashioned bolt rifle, there was a five-click pulse rifle and a pair of identical, needle-shot pistols, all charged and fully loaded. Ripping a sleeve from his sync suit, he folded it and, with a sharp intake of breath, pressed it against the wound in his side. Then he used the strap from the old bolt rifle to bind it. It would go at least some way to stemming the blood flow. Carefully slinging the five-click pulse rifle over his back, he took up a pistol in each hand and readied himself. He would need to let them know he was armed and most definitely dangerous.
“I’m running out of patience,” Rekvit called out.
Turning to face the console, Cal raised a pistol above its edge and, careful not to aim anywhere near Kaia, fired a torrent of random shots. Confident that the occupants of the room would be taking cover, he raised the second pistol, peered over the console, and ceased his random fire. He waited. There…a raised head, one of the men near the big screens. Cal shot him and was down behind his console again before the inevitable barrage of return fire.
A little less outnumbered, he thought with grim satisfaction. He’d always been a good shot, but the Xcel made him a marksman without equal.
“Fuck! Diggs is down, Rek. Bastard shot him right in the head.”
“Shut up, and stay put ‘til I say.”
There was a long silence.
Taking advantage of the moment of calm, Cal considered his next move. He’d be damn lucky to pull off the same trick twice. To stand any chance, he’d have to get inventive.
“That was a fine shot, friend,” Rekvit shouted. His voice was still calm, but it was fast sounding forced, an underlying edge of anger and possibly fear. “Might be that you were just lucky, though, eh?”
“I’m saving my luck for a difficult fight,” Cal shouted back, trying his best not to let his pain seep into his voice. “Let the girl go, and I’ll allow you all to leave unhurt.” As soon as he’d finished shouting the words, he began shifting himself along the floor with as much stealth as he could manage. None of the pirates would take his words seriously—no more than he had theirs—but with any luck, they’d keep their weapons trained on the spot they’d heard his voice.
The console behind which he’d taken cover was the first in a long line. They curved around the center of the lab in a wide arc, and if he stayed low, he could move alongside them without revealing his position. The fact that his left side felt as though it was being eaten away by acid didn’t make stealth an easy thing to achieve. Nor did the pulse rifle slung over his back, but fortunately, any noise he made was drowned out by Rekvit’s loud rambling. He was still making a feeble attempt to weed him out without losing any more men. Cal knew his type well. His concern would be for his reputation rather than the wellbeing of his comrades. He also suspected that there was a good deal of fear encouraging the man’s efforts. The boss wants her alive and intact. Even in the pirate world, there was always someone to answer to, and when mistakes were made in that world, a shot through the head was the preferred method of demotion.
“The girl is important to you,” Rekvit bellowed. “I’d hate to be forced to treat her the same way you did Diggs. She has such a pretty head. It would be a shame to rui
n it.”
Cal gritted his teeth. Empty threats. He already knew Kaia was valuable to them. Their intentions had become as clear as day. Technology was their bounty, and based on their ability to track and commandeer The Orillian, and the fact they had two synthetics, made it clear they were way beyond the average crew of pirates. They wanted the ship and, with it, Kaia’s wealth of knowledge. Cal shook his head. The insight wasn’t going to help him now. Pushing the thoughts aside, he did his best to focus on the task in hand.
“Maybe I should just have my synthetic slowly squeeze the life out of her. What d’you think about that?” Rekvit shouted.
Cal continued to drag himself along, breath rattling in his chest. Even bolstered by the Xcel, he was starting to feel his strength wane—although a conjured mental image of throwing Rekvit out of an airlock went a little way to rekindling it. Never had he felt so much hate for a man so quickly. Still, it was good of him to keep drowning out all other sounds with his constant prattle.
“I think you must like the idea,” Rekvit continued. “You must, else you’d be standing up by now with your hands held high.” Cal was starting to detect a desperate edge to his tone.
Finally, he reached the end of the arc of consoles. Whatever the hell his next move was going to be, he’d have to pull it off quick. Rekvit’s men were likely creeping around the lab by now in order to flush him out, and it wouldn’t be long before they spotted the long smear of blood he’d left across the gleaming white floor. Remaining low, he maneuvered himself around the edge of the last console until he was sat at the front end of its base. It was painfully frustrating that the means for activating the dropships was just above his head. Even to stand for a couple of seconds, however, would have been suicide.
“Maybe I’ll just have to send one of my synthetics after you. That’s right, young chap, you heard right: a synthetic. In fact, I have two of them here with me. Have you ever witnessed the speed and strength of a synthetic?’
There it was. Cal had been wondering how long it would take for the synthetic card to be pulled.
“What d’you think? Should I order one of them to come and pluck you out of your hiding place?”
Again, empty threats. At least, Cal hoped. He strongly suspected that Rekvit—at least for the time being—wouldn’t risk a valuable synthetic while he still had expendable men at his disposal. The synthetic would very likely succeed in carrying out the order, but Cal was armed, and even synthetics weren’t infallible to a direct blast from a five-click pulse rifle; a lucky shot could cause severe damage. Just in case he was wrong, he placed the two pistols on the floor and un-slung the pulse rifle from his back, feeling a little dizzy as he did so. The blood loss was starting to take its toll. If he didn’t start shooting again soon, they’d be on him.
Bloody get in gear, Cal.
Pulling Kaia’s control wand from his sleeve, he shifted himself to the edge of the console and made sure he had a decent view of the large, high screens on the far side of the lab. Pointing the wand, he brought up a live, wide angled view of the entire lab. With their attentions fully focused on the center of the lab, neither Rekvit nor any of his crew reacted to the screen, and despite its distance, it was large enough that Cal could easily make out their positions. Nice of them to come wearing dark clothing to a largely white lab.
Realizing the futility of coaxing Cal out with words, Rekvit had gone quiet. On the screen, Cal could see him busily directing his men with silent but rigorous hand signals. Seemingly unwilling to risk his own hide, the hawk-faced man had remained near the entrance. As Cal had predicted, Rekvit’s three remaining men were cautiously inching their way around the lab and towards its center. Two of them held twin pistols while the third favored a single pulse rifle.
Cal was relieved to see that the two synthetics remained near Rekvit. One of them was still tapping away at a console while the one holding Kaia stood close behind. Kaia was unconscious now, and the synthetic had thrown her limp body over her shoulder. Cal gritted his teeth. She’s alive. That’s what counts. He brought his attention back to the human threat.
With a tight grip on the pulse rifle and finger firm on its trigger, he waited patiently for the three armed men to move a little closer. Remaining focused on the distant screen, he pinpointed the console behind which he was hiding and judged the positioning of the men. As he’d hoped, their attentions were firmly set on the spot where he’d shouted his reply. Taking a couple of quick breaths, he swiftly stood and, with a calm efficiency that came from years of experience, thrust the muzzle of his five-click pulse rifle in the direction of the nearest man. He squeezed the trigger once and was back down behind the console before the weapon’s blast had even stopped echoing around the room.
“What the hell?”
“Christ, Borlen’s down.”
“Shit…shit. Where did the shot come from?”
“Bugger this…”
“Hold your position, Deets, or I’ll bloody well shoot you myself.”
Cal managed a grim smile as he listened to the panic he’d created. He peered at the distant screen—his lifeline—and watched the men cowering behind consoles and workstations.
“It’s only one bloody man. Keep your shit together.” Rekvit was now far from composed and had given up trying to hide the fact.
“How the hell did he aim so quick?”
“I said keep your shit together, and hold your positions.”
Cal listened and continued to study the screen. Despite Rekvit’s threats, one of the men was clumsily retreating towards the lab’s exit.
“Damn it, Deets, I said—”
But Deets didn’t hear; Cal’s next shot had caught the man in the left shoulder, and he was spinning to the floor with a wail.
“Christ,” Rekvit cried disbelievingly. Even though the hawk-faced man was all the way over the other side of the lab, Cal could see him stooping down to take cover.
The shot man was writhing on the floor, clutching at his shoulder and bellowing in pain. Cal could sympathize. If it weren’t for the Xcel, he was certain that his own pain would have rendered him unconscious long ago. The man was definitely no longer a threat, which left only Rekvit and one other. Cal had a feeling that Rekvit wasn’t the sort to dive into the fray. More a long-range leader armed with longeye goggles and a comm unit. Then of course there were the synthetics, but Cal was doing his best not to think of them. Not easy with the remaining pirate screaming at Rekvit to let the cybernetic women off their leash.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Rek, this ain’t right. This guy ain’t right. No one can move that quick and shoot that easy.” The man had to shout to be heard over the cries of pain from his floored comrade.
Cal kept his eyes glued to the screen, eagerly awaiting a chance to take the man out. Unfortunately, fear was keeping him well and truly concealed behind a work station.
“Please, just send the synthetics. For all we know, he’s some sort of male synthetic himself.”
Even with his boosted hearing, Cal could barely make out the words over the injured man’s cries, which were fast becoming a shrieking howl.
“Shut your face. I give the Goddamned orders,” Rekvit reminded his last man.
“What’d you say?”
“I said… Christ,” Rekvit barked in frustration. “Can you see Deets?”
“Yeah, I can see him. His bloody arm’s hangin’ off. He’s wrigglin’ on the floor like some sort of flippin’ eel.”
“Take care of him,” Rekvit bellowed. “I can’t bloody well hear myself think over that racket.”
“Take care of him?”
“Yes, fucking take care of him.”
A few moments later, Cal heard two rounds from a pulse blast and saw the injured man shudder twice.
Again, the room became deathly quiet.
Cal clutched the five-click pulse rifle tight to his chest and shifted himself a little to get a better view of the distant screen—in particular, a better view of Rekvit. Surely, the ma
n must have learned his lesson by now. Surely, he was ready to put the problem into the hands of his precious synthetics. Cal watched closely, trying to get an idea of the hawk-faced man’s intentions. Please let him be the incompetent prick I hope he is.
The silence was broken by the synthetic at the console. “There’s activity on the planet surface.”
Rekvit whipped his head around. “What kind of activity?” There was fear in his voice. “The aliens’?”
“Yes, multiple parts of their base have detached and mobilized.”
Cal felt his stomach lurch.
“Shit.” Rekvit spat. “Are they coming this way?”
“No, they are remaining well within the planet’s atmosphere. But I have no way of assessing whether this vessel remains undetectable.”
Rekvit’s tone was dropping, and Cal struggled to hear what was being said. He stared at Rekvit’s strained face on the screen. What’s his next move? What the hell’s my next move? Out of habit, Cal looked down and checked his weapon’s charge even though he knew it was full. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force a solution. So far, he’d done well in disabling the threat, but his injury was serious, and unless Rekvit ordered a full retreat, the worst was still to come.
“We’re leaving,” Rekvit suddenly shouted, causing Cal to hold his breath in anticipation.
“What?” his last man cried from his hiding place. “How…how do I get to the exit?”
“That’s your problem,” Rekvit replied tersely before turning toward the synthetic holding Kaia. “Give me the girl. You two stay here, and once you’ve dealt with the asshole with the big gun, finish commandeering this ship and follow.”
Goddamn it, no. Cal strained to hear every word and watched with growing trepidation as both cybernetic women nodded their understanding. Then the synthetic holding Kaia reached up and pulled her off her shoulder like a rag doll.
“We’ll rendezvous back at Hex,” Rekvit continued as he took hold of Kaia. Then, after a brief glance in Cal’s direction, he said, “Try not to get yourselves shot. The boss will overlook a few dead idiots, but if either of you get damaged, there’ll be hell to pay.”