by Jack Archer
He guessed Rystar’s size correctly and threw the bag on the bed, watching as Rystar turned around from her comms tablet to look at the bags before going back to her work.
“Almost done,” she said, “then we can get out of this damn place.”
“You going to tell me your plan, or no?” Shea asked, sitting on the bed and pulling out his own comms tablet to check his email.
“I already attempted to bail out the poor bastard this morning,” she said, running a hand over her face.
“Didn’t work?” Shea grimaced.
“Unfortunately, no,” Rystar said, and Shea was worried about her lack of sarcastic comeback. This must be really serious. “Did you get the uniforms?”
“Right there,” Shea said and pointed to them.
She smiled and stood up, crossing the room to the bag, and pulled out her own. “Great work, let’s go ahead and get these on before we leave.”
“What are you planning?” Shea asked with narrowed eyes, grabbing the bag when Rystar was done and pulling his uniform out. She walked to the bathroom to change, and Shea did the same in the room, stripping from his clothes to put the new ones on.
“We are Terran Space Force, travelling to the Melm High Security Prison to move the war criminal Na’gya Vasilev to his trial back on Earth,” she explained, her voice muffled from the bathroom door.
“That seems awfully dangerous,” Shea paused in his dressing to gaze at the bathroom door. She emerged, fully decked out in her black jumpsuit and cropped, black jacket with the Space Force insignia. “Are these going to fool them? Seems like any chump can walk in and impersonate a Space Force soldier.”
“Well, we will have the credentials to prove it,” Rystar assured him, bringing out her comms tablet and swiping a few times before holding it up to Shea.
“That looks… really official,” he admitted, eyes raking over the identification card. “But we don’t have physical ones.”
“I do,” she said, pulling one out from her bag and shoving it into a pocket.
“What about me?” Shea said, pulling on his boots and standing up to face her.
“You will be the bumbling new kid who forgot his badge, so we hope the digital identification will do,” Rystar said, tilting her head at him like he actually was the bumbling new kid who screwed everything up. “Made the QR code and everything. It’s perfect.”
With another swipe, his comms tablet dinged, and he opened it to see the digital identification card in his email. “Thanks.”
Rystar smiled at him and threw her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t mention it. Now let’s get going.”
The queues to Bufefu were always long, as was the usual to any garden world. The worst thing about space travel was now everyone was on different clocks, so there was no off-season. Everyone was always on vacation.
They were surrounded by everything from Mach IV Carrier LASSOs to tiny, family spacecraft taking up the spacepool lane on their far right.
“Why don’t you get one of those smaller space vehicles?” Shea asked, watching as one floated by them.
“Because this was my mother’s, and Jorge pays me back for the fuel I’m wasting on this idiotic, side quest ridden bounty,” Rystar muttered through clenched teeth and pulled on the throttle, turning them left into the ship queue.
“Seems to me like you really hate bounty hunting,” Shea chuckled and leaned back in his seat, ready for a long queue.
“I hate bounty hunting when I’m not in the Sol system. There’s a difference,” she snapped, then rubbed her face in her hand and sighed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to take it out on you. I’m starting to feel like you.”
“What do you mean?” Shea asked.
“I’m getting a bad feeling about this whole trip,” she responded. “That guy following us, Mr. Vasilev and his war criminal son. I don’t like it, and I’ll be happier when we’re back home this time tomorrow.”
“Soon,” Shea said, reaching over to pat Rystar on the shoulder. He wasn’t sure where they stood in the face of that morning and when they made out in the hotel room. So he awkwardly rubbed her shoulder for a moment before pulling away without looking at her.
True, as grand as this adventure was, he wanted to be home so badly. It had been a roller coaster of hyperspace jumps and stolen kisses, and he desperately needed to be home in his own bed to sort things out.
But they were here, in the middle of the Horoth bubble where jump queues took forever, with a beautiful woman sat right next to him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
After a long while, it was their turn, and Rystar pushed her license through the tube that appeared in the side of the wall.
“Destination?” the comms buzzed.
“Bufefu Terran High Security Prison, Bufefu, Tyurba System,” Rystar responded.
Several moments of silence where Shea’s heart stopped beating, and he could have sworn he saw sweat beading on Rystar’s forehead.
“One jump, the credits will be taken from your account,” the clipped accent finally said, making Shea let out the breath he had been holding.
Rystar shot him a look that clearly said, ‘And don’t doubt me again’ before taking her license from the tube and shoving it back under the dashboard. She pushed forward on the throttle as the border gate in front of them flashed green and turned on, growing white-hot. They jumped through, swirling through lights and colors and sounds for several disorienting moments.
The planet blocked most of the sun as they approached the dark continent of New America, lights sprinkled across its face.
“Ground control to Gloriosum, please bank left and approach the prison complex at a speed under hyperspace minimum,” a voice came through her comms, and she rolled her eyes, slowing down the engines to take them out of hyperspace and into normal flight mode as they entered the atmosphere.
“Of course, it’s on the damn dark side,” she mumbled as she pushed down on the stick to align herself with the prison.
The planet twisted and turned above them, making Shea close his eyes for a long time while Rystar oriented the ship around to where the rock was above them now, and she broke through the gravity well by pulling up and twisting around to the right the LASSO. Finally, he opened his eyes and saw a grouping of lights on the ground with a string of blinking red ones leading up to it.
“I assume that’s the prison?” he asked.
“If it isn’t, we’re going to have a rough time,” she chuckled.
Landing was easy enough on planets and moons, and this one was no exception. Rystar expertly flung the Gloriosum around like a ballerina onto the landing pad, and they were taken underground to the holding area while the doors closed above them.
Clambering out, they were met with a guard, who checked their identification cards, Shea’s on his comms tablet, and led them through a set of steel doors and down a hallway. The prison walls were white with steel tones, barred doors with criss-cross wiring in the windows in case someone tried to break them.
He looked over to Rystar, who had her chest puffed out and her hands clasped behind her back, still holding onto her tablet. She looked straight ahead and said nothing, so Shea took her lead and did the same. He had never been around the Space Force much and assumed they were the strong, silent type.
“State your business at the front desk and don’t dawdle,” the guard said, pointing to a large desk in a foyer.
Rystar saluted him and headed towards the desk, Shea close in her wake.
“Captain Umara, present for the transport of a Na’gya Vasilev,” she announced, holding her head up high. Shea stood just behind her, looking straight ahead.
The man at the desk said nothing but clacked away at his keyboard for a few moments before looking up at them.
“Nothing on the schedule. What did you say your name was?” he asked.
“Captain Umara,” she repeated before spelling it, “and that’s not my problem. He’s needed back on Earth at the Capitol in Langley by tom
orrow morning.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t just—” the man began, but Rystar cut him off by slamming a hand on the desk, making him jump.
“Why don’t you get your Warden down here?” she asked, eyes wild. “And I’ll tell him why we get to be late delivering a dangerous war criminal to the United States Government.”
The man seemed to hesitate for a moment before typing a little more into his keyboard and nodding. “Oh, it says right here we were supposed to expect you today. My deepest apologies.”
“Fine,” Rystar said without missing a beat. “Tell us where he’s located, and we’ll take him off your hands.”
“D-wing, cell 42,” the man replied and pointed at the wall. “Just take the elevator and follow the signs. You can’t miss it. The D-wing is our most heavily armed wing, so please proceed with caution.”
“Thank you,” Rystar said and saluted him before turning on a heel and heading to the elevators. Shea followed close behind, and as the elevator doors closed on them, they both let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Remind me to thank Jorge,” Rystar said, her voice a little shaky.
“Why?” Shea asked.
“He’s the one who booked that appointment for us,” she replied. “He’s the only one who can. I was worried he’d forgotten.”
“Close call,” Shea muttered and wiped his forehead.
When the doors opened again, Shea almost thought they hadn’t moved, the hallways were so similar. Rystar led them out and down the hallway, making twists and turns among the maze-like corridors until they turned a corner and saw a set of concrete doors at the end of the hallway.
“How do you know your way around this place so well?” Shea asked in a low voice as they approached the door with the words “D-WING” emblazoned on them.
“It’s my job,” Rystar responded, tapping on her tablet and holding it up to a console on the right side of the doors for scanning. “And it’s your job, too. Reconnaissance is the most important part of any mission.”
Shea took mental note, smiling at her sudden switch to teacher mode. As much as Rystar claimed to be a lone wolf, she fit the role of teacher perfectly.
The doors opened to a proper prison wing, with concrete walls and steel doors sealed up with the best locks security could buy.
“Alright, it says cell 42, so just down here,” Rystar said and pointed down a wing to their left.
“Have you ever seen a hybrid before?” Shea asked as they turned and proceeded down the corridor.
“A Ya’ados?” Rystar corrected him. “Never heard of them before yesterday, but I’m sure they don’t like being called ‘hybrids.’”
Shea made a mental note to memorize the unfortunate word and took a deep breath as they approached cell 42—a large room sat behind a thick wall of plexiglass. A man sat on a hard bench in the center, his ice-blue eyes focused on the two of them as they stopped in front of the cell.
“Na’gya Vasilev?” Rystar pulled out her comms tablet and read from it, looking back up to the Ya’ados when she was certain she had pronounced the name properly.
“What do you want with me now?” Na’gya muttered. His voice was low and tired, the accent just out of Shea’s reach. Light brown hair tickled the tops of his brow, and he sat shirtless, thumbs twiddling in his lap. A single window showed the dark landscape of the moon outside, a meager offering of light filtering through to the otherwise dingy cell.
“Yeah, this’ll be easy,” Rystar mumbled under her breath and tapped around on her tablet before looking up at Shea. “We’re here to take you to our ship and deliver you back to the United States Government for your trial.”
“Back to what ship?” Na’gya narrowed his eyes at them and stood up. Shea took a step back unconsciously as the Ya’ados stepped towards them with caution. It wasn’t the way Na’gya’s eyes froze over as if he could see right through them. It was the unfurling of his eight-foot wingspan, bright gold feathers laced with hints of red and orange and silver.
“So that’s why they gave you such a big cell.” Rystar took a deep breath, and when Shea looked over, he could see her eyes were as wide as his.
“What ship?” Na’gya repeated and stood directly in front of them. They were inches apart, but for the glass and Shea gulped.
“We’re here to take you back to your parents,” Rystar explained.
“I’m not going back there,” Na’gya stated simply, “you have to take me to the Hoop. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”
Rystar narrowed her eyes. “How worth it?”
“Double however much my parents are paying you,” Na’gya said. Shea blanched.
“How can I know you have that much money?” Rystar asked.
“You can’t,” he said. “You just have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” Rystar huffed. “I just goddamn met you. Come on.”
Motioning for the guard down the hallway, she instructed them to open the cell after showing him the proper identification, and the cell opened. The guard slapped handcuffs around Na’gya’s wrists, and Rystar and Shea stood on either side of him, arms hooked in his elbows.
They made it back to the elevator and pushed the button to the foyer. Shea’s heart beat in his throat, his diaphragm painfully constricted as the doors slid open again, and they walked through the open area to the hallway that led to the hangars.
“Faster, Rystar,” Shea muttered under his breath.
“Don’t rush,” she hissed back. “Just walk slow. We’ll make it to the ship in no time, okay?”
The guard at the front desk nodded with his furrowed brow at them, and Shea gulped, pushing the doors open and heading into the hallway.
“Okay, now go,” Rystar said and grasped Na’gya hard, rushing them down the hallway as fast as she could.
“What are you doing?” Na’gya asked, running along with them down the hall and into the hangar where Rystar’s Puma sat like an old friend.
“In, in, go,” Rystar muttered, rushing them into the ship and climbing in after them. She shoved Na’gya near the back of the cockpit and settled into her seat before turning the LASSO on and slapping the comms button. “This is Terran LASSO Gloriosum requesting permission to depart from Hangar 13.”
“Gloriosum, you are clear to depart, raising platform now,” the comms came back, and Rystar punched them off before whooping and throwing her fist in the air.
“Fuck!” she cried, pulling Shea to her by his collar and kissing him hard. “Fuck, I can’t believe we did that.”
“What… did what?” Na’gya asked, approaching them slowly.
“Don’t worry about it, guy,” Rystar said as she pushed some buttons and bounced her leg, waiting for the hangar to push them out on the surface so they could depart. When the ground below them shuddered to a halt, she pulled back on the throttle and shot into the air, towards the blessed sky that would take them home.
The comms buzzed back on, and a voice came through, sultry and sweet. Shea had no idea what to make of it.
“This is the DSV Firehawk patching through to that piece of junk out there. Nice bounty you got there, sugar. Shame if something bad were to happen to him.”