Starfire and the Space Dragons: A Grennig Crew Adenture

by Christine Westhead

  “Prove them wrong!” snapped Penna, who had watched the byplay like everyone else at the shooting range. “They think you are a liar and a coward.”

  “I don’t care what they think,” murmured Hal, not really listening to her and scanning the crowd for Honoray. His internal compass was pointing due trouble again and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Despite all the jollity and fun, he could sense hidden enemies watching him and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He raised his wrist.

  “Tranter, get to the shooting range,” he said quietly into his comlink,” ignoring the girl.

  “You are our guest and you dishonour us,” she cried, raising her hand to slap his face. Hal’s left hand moved like a snake and he caught her wrist, shoving her away. “Draw, Terrellian!” she screamed. “I challenge you!” It gradually went very quiet in the room and all eyes turned their way.

  “Penna, what are you doing?” Honoray pushed his way past the young men and stared open mouthed at his daughter.

  “He is a coward, Father,” she shouted. “He dishonours us all!” Hal looked at Honoray.

  “Call her off, Carl,” he drawled softly. “I don’t want to kill her, but she’s too fast for me to pick my shot.”

  “Take it back, Penna,” urged her father.

  “Why should I?” Penna stood defiantly, with her head held high and her hands on her hips, looking like a much thinner, younger version of her father.

  “Because I tell you to, you stupid little idiot!” said Meena’s voice as she shoved her way through the silent crowd to stand next to her husband. Tranter weaved his way to the front to stand next to Hal, on his left.

  “I thought it was best to bring the cavalry,” he said out of the side of his mouth, watching the furious Penna, gesturing and arguing, loudly with her parents.

  “Something’s wrong,” said Hal.

  “Yeah, I know. I left the Rebel on watch and it called me right in the middle of a straight flush. Four more of Berrin’s ships have shown up in the past half hour.”

  “And we don’t know the good guys from the bad guys,” muttered Hal, looking out at a roomful of pirates, all roughly dressed the same. “I better let Honoray know.” Hal walked towards the gun range, where Honoray had pulled Penna. She stood back, with her hand hovering over her gun butt.

  “Are you ready to face me, coward?”

  “Carl,” said Hal, ignoring her totally, “you got trouble.”

  “That’s it, Terrellian, hide behind my father,” Penna shouted, defiantly.

  “Four more of his ships have just pulled in.” Hal motioned with his head to where Berrin was talking earnestly to the gunman with the red bandana.

  “What is the problem?” asked Berrin, walking over. He had seen Hal’s nod in his direction. His gold teeth were flashing but the smile was forced and his eyes looked calculating. “When General Honoray throws a Theatre, are all not welcome?”

  “Of course,” smiled Honoray, just as falsely. “All are welcome on Theatre night.”

  “I was wondering, Carl” said Hal in a conversational tone, “do your men wear a sort of uniform, or does anything go on Theatre night?” Penna and the four young men from the fast draw club looked from Hal to Honoray in astonishment.

  “It is funny you should mention that, Hal,” Honoray wasn’t a General by accident. He was quick on the uptake, turned with Hal to face the rest of the room and continued in a casual manner, “for it would appear at first glance that all Pirates dress the same way, but should you look closely, you would see that all Clan Honoray Pirates wear a gold heart in the left earring, and Berrin’s men have the Ace of Spades tattooed on their right cheek.”

  “Yeah,” began Hal. He caught sight of Tranter out of the corner of his eye, slowly turning to face the room and sensed he was gearing up, “I see it now.” He stood with his hands by his sides, the open cuffs on his black shirt turned up to leave his wrists free. He looked calm and relaxed and Tranter casually gazed around for Ace of Spade tattoos within his range.

  “General Honoray,” Berrin stepped forward, his gunman at his side. “We do not want any trouble, so it really would be better if you surrender to me now.” He lifted his left index finger slightly and his men, twelve in all, raised assorted firearms and covered everyone in the room.

  “You know I cannot do that, Berrin.” Two men grabbed Penna’s arms from behind and dragged her in front of her father, while the man with the red bandana sauntered forward and put his gun to her head. They suddenly looked remarkably sober, as did all Berrin’s men.

  “She is a very pretty girl, Honoray and, I believe, your only child?” Berrin took a last puff of his big cigarillo and let it drop to the floor. “Just how much do you love your daughter, General?”

  “Carl?” Meena looked desperately at her husband.

  “Do not worry, beautiful wife,” said Honoray. “I am just about to make a deal.”

  “A deal?” said Berrin, “What the frag are you talking about?”

  “A deal, Hal?” asked Honoray, a note of desperation entering his voice, “do we have a deal?”

  Hal’s brain worked like a targeting computer and he scanned the room with one look. Red bandana would have to be the first. It would have to be a head shot though, as he stood behind Penna; the man already had his gun out and he was fast. Luckily he was a pro and his finger was outside the guard, lying along the length of the gun. Berrin would be next. He had too much confidence in red bandana and was far too busy gloating to be a real threat but it always paid to take out the leader as soon as possible. The two men holding Penna held knives to her body, but shots to their chests would throw them backwards so she should be safe. Tranter had fought by Hal’s side before and would pick targets in the middle ground. He was not fast with a gun, but he was steady and accurate at short range. He would leave the pirates furthest away, near the entrance door, for Hal and he spotted all his targets. Three long seconds ticked by while Hal figured this out.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he said softly then the room erupted in laser fire. Red bandana hurtled backwards, hit in middle of the forehead; Berrin was standing clear so Hal shot him in the chest, closely followed by the two men holding Penna. Just under one second had passed. Hal worked his way through the pirates furthest away while Tranter picked off three armed men with the Ace of Spades tattooed on their cheeks in the centre of the room. By the time Honoray had yelled,

  “Everybody, get down!” it was all over and Hal was walking forward. In just over two seconds, Hal’s gun was back in its holster and every Berrin man was dead or dying. Hal walked past the shocked and swaying Penna to check for wounded. There wasn't a scratch on any of Honoray’s people, although some of them were spattered with the blood or bits and pieces of Hal’s victims. Not one member of the gun club had drawn a weapon and watched, open mouthed, as Tranter and Hal walked around the room. They hadn’t had the time to pick their shots with care and every one of them was dead. Some of them were very dead and the sound of retching from a couple of near-miss survivors could be heard across the quiet room.

  One of Berrin’s men had seen Hal in action before and had dropped to the ground before the shooting started. He could see Hal walking away and reared up, holding a short range repeating laser rifle which he aimed at Hal's back. Hal looked back, drew his gun, tipped his hand down and back so that his gun was upside down and pointing backwards. He flicked his right foot back, tapped the gun barrel with his heel to lift it into line and fired, just once, without breaking his stride. The man was hit in the chest and toppled overF to lie on his back, staring at the roof. Hal didn’t turn around or stop walking and Tranter looked down to hide his smile. He never ceased to be amazed at his friend's shooting. It wasn’t done for effect; Hal was just very good at what he did.

  Distant gunfire and shouting filtered through from the other rooms and floors, but Honoray knew what to do about this. He walked quickly to the wall and pressed a switch.

  “This is G
eneral Honoray,” his voice boomed out across the station. “Berrin is dead. I repeat, Berrin is dead. You now belong to me.” The sound of fighting died away.

  Honoray shook Hal and Tranter warmly by the hand. “A deal is a deal, my friends. I will refuel your angry ship and lead your convoy wherever you wish,” he said. “I’ve had my eye on Berrin for a while, but I never thought he would try anything like this. Not at a Theatre; it is not the Clan way. He would not have held his victory for very long. The other Clans would have intervened.” Nobody had moved yet, then Meena pulled her trembling daughter away from the three dead men and steered her tightly by the elbow.

  “Thank you, both,” she said, simply, as they went to stand by her husband. Tranter tipped an imaginary hat.

  “All in a day’s work, Ma’am.”

  “I had forgotten just what an amazing gunfighter you are, Hal,” said General Honoray. “It is good that you are on the side of the angels.” He gazed down at his white faced daughter, “I think Penna owes you an apology.”

  “I was proud and stupid,” she said, “You would have bested me easily and you showed great restraint. If I had pushed things further, you would have killed me.” The girl shrugged free from her mother’s grasp, gently drew her weapon and raised her left arm in the air with a flourish. She bowed low, stretched out her right arm and pointed her gun at the ground towards him. Hal looked up as there was a slow, scraping sort of sound round the room and every one of General Honoray’s Pirates had copied her gesture, bowed very low, drawn their assorted weaponry and pointed it at the ground towards Hal’s feet.

  Chapter 18

  “I thought that went well,” said Tranter as they bid farewell to the pair of class five Tiger Sharks that had led them out of Triviol. Hal lifted a bored, indifferent shoulder. “It ain’t every day you get inducted into the Pirate Hall of Fame,” he carried on, “and Penna,” he smirked, “now there’s a young girl with a crush if ever I saw one.” Hal glared at him but Tranter carried happily on. “You did realise she was only pretending she didn’t know how to hold your gun so you would keep getting behind her and squeezing her hand to aim it, didn’t you?”

  Hal scowled and looked down. He hadn’t realised anything of the sort. In fact, truth be told, he was glad to get out of the place. News of the battle had quickly spread and, as with every tale, bits were added on and embellished. By the time they had left, Hal had killed over twenty five pirates single handed. Everywhere they went the next day, young men, wearing all black clothing and trying to cultivate his moody expression, stealthily followed Hal to copy his walk and he had suddenly become very attractive to young, giggling girls. He didn’t like it. In fact, quite a few of the older ones threw him the odd wink and inappropriate gesture as well. A couple of them had been very old and he shuddered slightly at one particular memory that he would take to the grave.

  “Well, we got our guide through the Badlands and that’s the main thing,” muttered Hal, determined to change the subject.

  “You have no idea how cool you are, do you?” grinned Tranter, determined not to let him.

  “And you got to face Erion when we get back.” Tranter stopped his teasing and it was suddenly Hal’s turn to smirk. “Yeah, off you went in The Rebel without kissing your sweetheart goodbye to a Pirate haunt on Theatre night, no less. And then there was all that drinking and gambling and dancing….” He tailed off.

  “There was no kissing,” spluttered Tranter, “and dancing don’t count. Anyway, I won four hundred credits at the Pan tables,” he added, proudly.

  “And you think that’s gonna make it okay, you idiot?”

  “I don’t know, Hal,” Tranter shoved his hand through his black hair in confusion. “I never felt like this about anyone before, but…” he looked up suddenly, “she outranks me, man!” Hal roared with laughter. Tranter was probably the only man who would ever see it, but he failed to register the unique event.

  “It ain’t funny,” he muttered. “Look, she ordered me not to come on this mission like I was some stupid private under her command. What do I do?” Hal shook his head,

  “I don’t know, you gotta sort it out between you. I’m no good with people stuff.”

  “I’ll talk to her when we back,” said Tranter, stretching out on the comfortable pilot seat.

  They went back to Manta Six so Vermillion could download her memory banks into her real shell and Tranter’s heart sank when he saw that the Grennig was still sitting in the bay.

  “You gotta face her sometime, Tran, it might as well be today,” said Hal as they sauntered into the guest lounge. Everyone was still there and Raan looked up from a vid he was watching.

  “How’d it go?”

  “We got us our guide through the Badlands,” said Tranter. He looked at Erion, sitting stony faced on the couch. “We have to talk.”

  “Go to the gardens,” said Vermillion, “I will ensure nobody is there.”

  “Thank you,” said Erion. They sat in the aircar in silence all the way there and stepped into Hofolhdxhy’s flower garden. As soon as the hatch closed behind them, Erion took Tranter’s hands in her own. “I was an idiot, Tranter. I’m sorry,” she burst in on his carefully rehearsed apology before he could speak. “It’s just that the last time you went into battle with The Rebel, you didn’t come back.”

  “Erion, you know neither of us has much chance of getting through this war alive,” he said, taking both her hands in his. “The Grennig is the best ship and crew in the Alliance and you get all the dangerous stuff because of it.”

  “I know, Con,” she sighed, “but don’t ever go off like that again though, you great pillock. If one of us ever doesn’t make it back from a mission, I want us to have parted as friends.”

  “Sure,” he kissed her lips, gently. “Oh,” he fumbled in his pocket. “I bought you this with my winnings.” He handed her a huge, sparkling emerald on a silver chain. She took it from him and gasped with delight.

  “It’s beautiful. It’s almost the same colour as your eyes.”

  “I know," he smirked. “That’s why I bought it.”

  “It must have cost a fortune,” she said, holding it up to the light. It spun and sparkled on its chain and cast golden rainbows across the white benches in the garden.

  “Honoray says it’s a speckled emerald, see those gold flaky bits? That’s what makes it rare.” She bent her head forward and he put it on for her. “Friends?”

  “Of course we’re friends,” Erion put her arm through his. “Let’s go back to the lounge and you can tell us all about your Pirates.” They had almost reached the hatch when Erion suddenly stopped and turned to face him. “What winnings?”

  Vermillion had returned from her memory upload and a flexi hologram of the system was spread out across the table. Raan was pointing at it with a light scribe.

  “Right, the Cantina is here,” he waved his pointer in the air, and Manta is here,” he caught Delta Ten’s eye. “Make this thing two dimensional will you, Del; it don’t make much sense like it is.” Delta Ten glanced at the map and it shrank down to table size. “Okay, like I was saying, The Cantina is here, and due south is Manta Six, then Aquitaine, and right in the middle of the Aurian system is Auria itself. If we go right down to here,” he pointed, “we have the border with the Triviol System. Now on the east of Triviol, we got the Badlands and north of that is the Terrellian System. That’s gonna be our route for the tankers.”

  “So,” said Erion, “we plan to start sending the tankers through the Aurian System with legitimate cargo as soon as possible.” She turned to Tranter, “Are you sure your Pirate friends will be waiting?”

  “Sure,” he answered. “They’ll be just inside the border with Triviol at these co-ordinates,” he pointed to the map. “Tell the pilots not to stray. They said they would wait indefinitely.”

  “Indefinitely?” put in Starfire, “That’s a bit trusting isn’t it?”

  “Pirates don’t break their word,” he said. “We said we�
�d be there and they’ll wait till we come.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Starfire, “You said Pirates don’t break their word. You’re not Pirates.”

  “We are now,” said Tranter with a smug grin. “Me and Hal are honorary Pirates.”

  “Good grief!” muttered Starfire. “Why would Pirates want you two in their Clan? I thought they were supposed to be classy!” Tranter and Hal glared at her.

  “As I was saying,” said Raan, “we send fuel tankers through first. That way, if we’re stopped we’re not piloting a great big empty ship. We’ll have bills of lading all sorted for fuel shipments to Auria Prime. If they’re empty, we just say we’re returning to pick up more fuel. Me, Starfire and Delta Ten will pilot them, along with a couple of Citizens. If we are boarded, we can’t have two big black robots in the pilot seats. On the mission, they’ll be on their own, but it won’t matter by then.”

  “I can just about pilot a Supertanker,” said Tranter.

  “Great, Tran, that’ll help,” said Raan. “Can you fly one on your own though? You probably won’t have to; it’s only if you’re stopped by the Galactic police. We don’t want anyone seeing the Citizens. They kind of stick out. Anyway, we’ll shunt back and forth till we have everything safely hidden, on the edge of the Triviol System, then Honoray and his men will lead them all through the Badlands and come out on the dark side of Serrell.”

  “I can pilot a Supertanker,” said Hal from the corner. “I don’t have any fancy papers for it, though.”

  “Fraggin’ Hell,” Starfire looked amazed, “he actually volunteered some information without having to be asked!” Hal slowly raised one lone, middle finger and aimed it at her, swivelling it slightly.

  “That’s great, Hal. That gives us five human pilots.” Raan looked at Hal, “Can you pilot one on your own? If you’re hauled over by customs, the Citizens will have to hide.” Hal thought for a second.