Starhustler

by Chris Turner

  If this plan worked, the reapers would come knocking soon.

  The camouflaged suit hung still there on the peg by the weapons rack, along with the poison-tipped boots Pazarol had given me. I looked at the garb and cast them a sour grin: Pazarol’s gift might come in handy.

  I murmured to Wren, “They’ll probably try to ambush us when we get settled into the drop point. Let’s be ready.” I adjusted the straps on the AK custom blaster slung over my shoulder, and the pouch containing the grenades.

  “You don’t know that,” hissed TK, his face grim.

  “Your point?”

  Wren interceded. “I’m surprised they haven’t tried to blow us up already.”

  “Until Mong and his monkeys get their alien tech, they’ll keep us alive. That’s what I’ve been banking on this whole time.”

  As we came within docking distance of the station, I made out more details: immeasurably long superstructure, shaped like a fish vertebrae with scores of side wings extending ninety degrees outward. The upper tiers of the main hub spread out like a honeycomb: rows for small craft like ours to dock in. Below that, larger octagonal ports spread, gray and sealed now, as they had been for centuries, since the large freighters had come to dock and transfer their payloads. An impressive piece of architecture all said and done. Belisar sprawled like a fantastic ark, the single portal open to the landing bay, just as we had left it. Already our scanners had picked up one bogey on our tail, too far away to do any damage, but proof that the bait had been nibbled. We’d hole up in the mining station before long, ready our explosives and wait for armageddon.

  No sooner had we reached docking distance with upper deck loading bay D-2 than a sudden blue blip flashed across the starboard viewport. A black ship vaulted out of nowhere. Wtf? A stealth ship? Drone? It was shaped like a manta ray and had that sleek, streamlined look of new tech and black death, some harbinger of doom. Either way, it had slipped under our radar. A blue beam of destruction came flaring out of its fuselage, one of those long-range fareon rays. With horror, I realized my well-oiled plans were becoming unglued from the onset. Our enemies had timed their strike with just enough force to incapacitate us, rather than destroy us.

  Our shields buckled; the ship rocked, sending us in a tailspin as we slewed into the landing port. I jammed the forward thrusters to compensate and save us from colliding with the side of the docking bay. Starrunner ran high up into the open landing bay.

  Starrunner spun down on her side, trailing sparks from her underbelly, smoking from her midsection. What can go wrong, will go wrong, the universal law of consequences. Molly’s voice crackled through the gloom. “Critical meltdown of engine core. Ship’s Barenium unstable.”

  At the edge of my vision, the viewscreen showed impending disaster. Baer’s ship and her companion vessel, a stealth V-Ray, glided in through the hatch before we could manually trigger the portal closed. Shit.

  I snapped out of my daze. We were sitting ducks in this smoking coffin. “Out! Now!”

  Wren and TK scrambled through the smoke, grabbing R4s and masks and coughing, staggered to the port hatch. The sealed landing dock re-pressurized automatically and I cranked the hatch wheel upon seeing the green lamp blink on the far wall. But it would only turn half way, and I had to kick it several times before it would loosen. We were in a bad place, trapped between the ship’s stern and our protective enclave while enemies roved about. The booby-trapped command area with all my careful snares was the only safe area for us at the moment. My synthetic fingers clenched the detonators with tingling desperation.

  I did not set any off.

  We forced our way through the cold but warming air, toward the double revolving safety doors of the command area. I ran up to the exit, my steel-tipped boots clanking on the grates.

  Wren and I dove for the command room, TK lagging behind, puffing for air, his breath coming out in steamy gasps. I got off a few shots, but I wasn’t going to trade ammo with the vague figures emerging from both ships and become instant space fodder.

  “Into the command bay! Quickly,” I hissed. “Let them fall prey to our traps.”

  “If we don’t have a ship,” cried TK, “what good will it do?”

  I waved a hand. “Messenger shuttle may still by salvageable.” Better to give them hope than futility.

  “We don’t have time—”

  “Shut up and move!” I cried.

  Wren herded the old man on, grumbling for him to tough it up. “We go to plan, TK. Think ‘plan’.”

  I could see the terror writ in the old man’s eyes. Under that dim swath of emergency lights, his broken, defeated look mirrored the inevitable, the shadow of looming death.

  “Use minimum fire,” I barked. “Draw them out with the explosives. Don’t give away our positions.”

  I looked back and Baer and two dozen of his men were pouring out of the first vessel with laser-guided AKs—remodeled blasters with stun capability. Swift, capable men, garbed in loose black fatigues, like modern ninjas, dark skull caps tucked over their ears. I knew in an instant those killers meant to capture us and torture us for the information leading to the amalgo. I was under no illusion that this round of torture would make the last look like a kindergarten picnic. Under no circumstance must any of us get captured.

  A group of five of them branched off to search Starrunner. Good, keep them busy. The rest moved in after us.

  Chapter 20

  My eyes dilated, adjusting to the murk. The command area of Belisar One was a rubble-strewn sprawl just as we’d left it. A pool of blue-black shadows with lots of places to hide showed itself, rigged with enough booby traps to kill an elephant and several lions thrown in. The place had been looted by bandits over the decades, as evidenced by the hodgepodge of overturned consoles, smashed component boxes, spilled circuits with wires showing. The pillars that supported the honeycombed ceiling had whole sections eaten out of them. By machine gun fire. Wedges were cut out as if drunken bandits had aimed a thousand shots and chewed holes into the walls. At least the idiots had left the port door alone.

  The light was so dim as to make it difficult to see. Only a faint ambient bluish glow spilled from the windows overlooking the interior of the station.

  I motioned to TK and Wren, urging them to the side wall to duck behind the random wastage while I staggered in a bent-kneed crouch over to the opposite wall to lure the others out and activate the explosives. Good thing the heating and air systems had powered on during our last mission, eliminating the need for suits. I made quick time to the back corner where the paneled glass looked into the interior: a place of silence, brooding and mystery. Below, the lower level showed massive ore bins, sorting stations and holding pods. A vast tangle of machinery, piping, docking stations, catwalks and inky depressions lurked in those confines. The emergency lights dimmed, then cut out. The unearthly blue glow flickered back on again, so recently activated by human presence after many decades.

  Despite what I’d told TK about Starrunner, I felt sick at the loss of her. In her state she was of little use. We were marooned here—like castaways, stuck out in nowhere with no hope of rescue or little chance of making repairs. I thrust that anxiety out of my mind.

  A dozen and a half enemy, lean and silent as weasels, came slinking in low on a wide sweep of the area. Their laser sights gave away their position while ours remained dark. We had an advantage, but they had the superior numbers.

  I signaled Wren with my silent communicator: lie low. The plan was for me to draw them out, pick off stragglers with explosives, and rely on the camo qualities of my guerrilla suit to keep them at bay.

  I chucked a piece of broken circuitry toward the first plant of explosives by the lower level ore carts. Several green laser sights lanced to the spot and eager figures split up to investigate.

  My sweat-beaded face curled in a cold grin. I saw a line of them moving toward the sound. Fools. My body tingled with expectation. Imminent slaughter was moments away.

 
; Just as the pack was within blasting distance of the far wall, I pinched my thumb on the detonator. Flesh and sinew erupted in a crimson mash. The force took out six of them, shredding them like ripe carrots in a blender. Bloody shreds of arms, legs and torsos sprayed in the immediate vicinity.

  Baer’s voice rumbled over the flames. “Fan out, you stupid fools! That fuck Rusco’s got the place rigged! He wasn’t so dumb after all. Flush him out. Quickly. Now!”

  “But boss—”

  “Shut the fuck up! What am I paying you for, blockhead? Move!” He thrust the man forward. “Don’t cluster in too tight and let him take you down.”

  I pressed the left detonator. Kabam. Another bright blast took out four more of the black-masked bastards, leaving a gaping hole in the ore bins and tangle of machinery below. Bright fire licked out at me as I sprang from one hiding place to another behind an overturned console. Keep them moving. Make them think there was a rat’s nest of snipers and ambushers around them.

  I winced. Shit, they were rounding on Wren. Someone must have sighted a flicker of movement. That idiot TK panicked, for he began shooting a spray into the fray. I told the fuck not to fire! Except in an emergency as it gave away location.

  A howling cry rose above the mayhem. Another black enemy fell on a knee, shin shattered by the shells.

  Wren joined in the firefight. Two more gunmen groaned in anguish and fell face down in the rubble.

  We were down to four plus change.

  But three of them started firing, and like a death squad, rained a fury of inescapable green at Wren and TK. They were smart, those stalkers; they took out the pillar where Wren and TK had dug in and the ceiling collapsed on them. A ton of metal came crashing down and I heard Wren’s sharp cry echo in peaked anguish. The girders folded like a tent around them, offering them some small cocoon—I hoped. All I could see was a dull gleam of metal where she was. I swore silently and acted without hesitation. The explosion had left her pinned behind a mangled ceiling panel.

  TK must have managed to wiggle free for I could hear his hoarse grunts and curses. I could vaguely make out a dark outline moving along the shadowy backdrop of the side wall. His or an enemy’s?

  I scooted closer. Like a thief in the dark, I kept low. My itchy fingers hovered over the last of the detonators. But the enemy was nowhere in my sights, nowhere near my kill zone.

  I think the last four heard Wren. I set off the last explosive, only serving as a costly diversion, and while they staggered back, wondering what next booby trap they’d step into, I raced forward, struggling to cover the area to their left side. She was gasping and cursing and banging on the metal that covered her.

  I rapped hard, hissing at her to quiet down. I grabbed an old machine tool, a hammer or something, caked with eons of dust and launched it somewhere behind them. One of the stalkers whirled around at the clatter of metal and loosed a shot. I launched out like a cat to a new defensive position, but was forced to dodge around and confuse them before I could come back to her.

  “Sh,” I hissed at her, trying to imagine the terror she felt trapped under that mangled mess. “Stay silent, you hurt?”

  “Pinned, can’t get out,” her muffled voice came back. “Left arm is throbbing.”

  I whispered, “Wren, listen to me. Stay put, no noise. Don’t try to move. I’ll get you out—but not now.” I couldn’t peel the metal back around her without alerting those fucks to my position.

  They were returning. Shit! This was not going well. I backed off, my head in a quandary, a high buzzing in my ear.

  “The old subterfuge trick,” Baer called out in the murk. “Nice job, Rusco. I expected more from you. Disappointing that you let your arm get blown up like mine. We’re two peas in a pod, you and me, two fools in a stew pot.”

  That’s it, you dumb fuck. Keep talking. Draw yourself out like a fat fool and use up your energy.

  An assassin had positioned himself between Baer and the tangle of metal. Now he was moving closer. Before long he’d clue in to where Wren was, trapped and helpless.

  I slunk away, hoping to draw him away. No luck. The bugger kept sidling closer, weapon trained at the fallen mass of metal. Where the hell was TK? Why wasn’t the twit helping?

  I sidewinded back and snuck up behind him while the gunman was focused on the debris, weapon aimed at the fallen ceiling. I hoped to neutralize him while he was preparing to take out the two of us whom he thought cowered behind that mound.

  I dove at this hulking figure, meaning to kick him in the groin with my poison-tipped boot to avoid firing and giving away my position. But the stalker heard the crunch of glass under my boot and pivoted. I ducked, missing by a hair his stun beam, wrapped my arms about his waist and brought him crashing to the ground. I knocked his weapon away. The man was exceedingly strong and he bent me backward to the point I could feel my spine creaking under the pressure. I pummeled him with my fists and in a mad tangle of arms and legs, we grappled and hooked, grunted and cursed. My hard right lashed out and I caught him with my elbow in his teeth. He loosed a garbled cry. I scrambled to my feet, kicked out a foot while rising, and grazed him high on the thigh. He went down with a howl, shivering for an instant and was dead within seconds. An impressive fast-acting poison. I staggered over the body, panting as I saw his glassy eyes stare up. No time to get Wren. I stumbled away from the booted feet coming closer to my position as they set scarlet sights upon me—scarlet meant moderate to lethal.

  Peeow. Peeow. Bright laser fire licked past my ribs, shredding consoles and metal.

  I couldn’t find my weapon in the dim light. Fuck it. I’d lost it.

  I saw the dead man’s firearm, a long fat rod of dark length in the shadows. I dove for it, snatching up his modified AK, then rolled flat to fire on the last moving shapes in the dark. But the damn thing jammed. I threw it away in disgust. Laser lines were sighting on me. With a hissing curse, I scrambled crab-wise for cover. Rat-a-tat-tat. A death rattle for heart-pumping Rusco. Terror raged at my heels, shredding everything around me. Those were no stun rays. They were real shelled bullets.

  “Rusco, give it up,” shouted Baer. “You’re a dead man. You’ve no ship and your explosives can’t last forever.” His panting voice rose above the shell chatter. “Tell you what—give me the phaso, and I’ll call it even—”

  “Phaso? Why didn’t you say so?” I called.

  Restless rumblings came from the huddle, like a nest of rats from where I counted three, with weapons cocked, laser sights trained in my direction. I ducked, held my breath behind a mound of shredded tin. Wished I was the invisible man right now.

  Baer held up a hand to the others to hold their fire. He advanced like a hairy beast.

  “Tell me where it is, Rusco.”

  “If you really want it, Baer, it’s in the conduit leading to the Barenium cylinders in my ship. I hid it there, taped it to the silver metal siding for safe-keeping. Go ahead and check—it’s out of harm’s reach, and the hands of even my own crew.”

  “More like a trap,” he jeered.

  “Believe what you want. Send one of your crew members to check.” I ducked down, inching away from there to another overturned console a few yards away.

  I hoped they’d fall for the lure as I’d bomb-rigged that conduit. It would mean one or two less thugs for me to kill.

  How everything was going to shit right now. It would kill Starrunner’s Barenium drive for good but better that than dying here at the hands of these cutthroats. A gamble. I hadn’t counted on both TK and Wren being neutralized so soon.

  One of them left on quiet feet; I could feel a lightening of presence. It was about the same time I noticed some other dark figure trail after him with a hobbling gait. TK? Where was that sneaky fuck going? Maybe he was going to take down the errand boy. I hoped so.

  My explosives were done. I’d been reaching for a fallen hunk of metal a yard away from my defensive position. It lay in open sight, but I was afraid that if they saw the small movemen
t, they’d blow my hand off. And I wasn’t about to let that happen again.

  I tried to keep Baer talking. Fortunately Wren had made herself quieter than a church mouse. Make the Baer blunder. The man had a gun, I didn’t. A distinct disadvantage in this miserable situation so any winning trick was a good one. I’d grab onto it like a drowning man grasped for straws.

  “I’m not sweet on the phaso, truth be told, Rusco,” said Baer. “Just tell us where the amalgo is, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  Just like that, you slimebitch, as if we were old pals? I grinned. “The amalgo’s a little trickier, Baer. Truth be told, it isn’t here, hate to tell you. I put it somewhere safe. Thought you’d like that.”

  He chuckled. “I do, and that’s good to hear. For a second, I thought you might have gone and done something stupid like destroy it to spite me. After that unfortunate incident back on Trellian.”

  “No, nothing like that, Baer. I got better things to do with my time than play the spiteful bitch.”

  “Haw haw. You’ll have to tell me where it is sometime. I got a short temper with this one at the moment.”

  To my right came a shuffle of feet. I could hear two of them. Flanking me like foxes at the henhouse, moving inch by inch, expecting that I had another detonator to trigger, but I’d drawn my last card.

  “Tell your gophers to stay back,” I croaked. “Otherwise I’ll blow them up like the rest of your tainted meat.”

  Baer nodded, signaled the two to stop. “So, what do we do now?” he said. “Seems as if we’re at a stalemate.”

  I let the seconds pass. I was running out of options. Just when I was about to do something desperate, I detected a hint of motion back near the landing dock entrance.

  TK, the mysterious sod, was slinking by the side wall. The crystal ring clutched in his trembling hand; it radiated that queer iridescent glow that had always mesmerized me. What was the fool up to? Maybe he thought to use the phaso as a bargaining chip? To save his own hide? Why had he left Wren, though? Seemed cowardly in my opinion. I couldn’t quite figure it.