Constellation (Blood Empire Book 1)

by Robert Scanlon

  I fall to my knees—slowly in the gravity—and beg Bruno. “Please! Sloper has my brother. I need to know what Errikson is—”

  As I settle, I sit back on my heels, reach back with both hands and snap each high heel off.

  In a true ninja move, I duck my head, whip both arms around in front of me in a wide pincer-like movement, and I bring them forcefully together to stab the two neurowhips concealed in each heel into Bruno’s ankles.

  Bruno’s eyes glaze over in pain, but he’s paralyzed. I grab his satchel off his shoulder as he sinks down. I hear the sound of laserpistols firing behind me. I spin around on one foot and stay low to the floor.

  Danielli has already cut down almost ten of them, Pedro is actually wrestling a guy at the door ... which leaves five goons spreading out to take me down. I wonder why they haven’t killed me yet, then I realize my trump card: the price on my head is for me alive.

  Something else strikes my awareness. These guys have all spent a lot of time on Ganymede. Maybe too much to keep their muscles in trim. I hold my hands out in pretend surrender, and cower. They come closer. I crouch more.

  I wait until the first is almost on me, reaching out to subdue me, when I spring into the air and somersault over his head. Stabbing one neuroheel-whip in as I do so. He drops in slo-mo, but I’ve already hit the ceiling with my feet, rebounded and am diving into the two in the middle with both arms outstretched. They break my fall, or rather, my neurowhips do, and I slide down using their the whips on their bodies as a brake.

  At the last minute I twirl head over heels and land on my feet to face the final two on my right.

  One of them feints to my left, but I see it coming and I’ve already pushed off from my last victim. I give him a straight metal-toed kick where it hurts. He grunts and goes down.

  One to go. This guy’s big though—he even towers over me. He has a massive, outlawed plasmacannon strapped to his back. Plexi would be drooling. I throw my snapped-off heels to the ground. “Alright, I give up. You’re way too big for my tricks.” Then I slip my hand down through my skintight’s zipper, pull out the microlaser pistol I’d tucked inside on the ship, and splatter the guy’s knee to sausage meat. He howls and topples. Slowly.

  Microlaser in hand, I turn to the rest of the room. Pedro now has his guy on the floor and Danielli’s already taken out his assailants. I look at Danielli and jerk my head at the door. He holds up three fingers, but Pedro is waving us away, his foot on the other guy’s chest. “We go out there, we’re dead.”

  I look at Danielli.

  “He could be right, Ma’am. The element of surprise is gone, and we’ll be fighting our way out of a tunnel.”

  I point at the plasmacannon on the giant’s back, who by now has passed out.

  Danielli’s eyes widen. “No.”

  “Yes,” I say, and cut the cannon off the guy using his own beltknife. I waste no time, and I turn to face the wall next to Bruno’s limp form and pull the trigger. The wall partially disintegrates, but I see the dome barrier clearly beyond it. I fire again, and the dome barrier is blasted into a hole into Ganymede’s partly-formed atmosphere. The icy cold penetrates instantly.

  “We have 10 seconds to get out and back in again!” I yell over the noise of our room’s air whistling against the pressure. I fire again to widen the aperture, and jump through.

  Hell’s neutrons, it’s so cold I’m not sure I can move, but I have to. Holding my breath, I bound a few meters along the side of the dome, stop, turn and fire the plasmacannon into the dome’s surface. Repeatedly. A ragged hole appears, but I am now too cold to understand what to do next. I cannot move. My hands stiffen, and will no longer grip. I let the cannon drop slowly through my fingers. Shit.

  Then I feel myself manhandled though the hole, followed by Danielli and Pedro, who manages to turn and throw his jacket over the hole. It doesn’t work and the jacket is sucked out. I hear alarms and sirens from the dome breach, and I’m in danger of passing out. The lo-grav helps us again, and my two companions manage to drag me with them, and crawl far enough away to collapse, exhausted.

  The shock of the sudden freeze is wearing off. I’m hoping the ten seconds of exposure to Jupiter’s deadly rays won’t kill us, but if we don’t get to Pedro’s trike, we’re dead anyway.

  My judgment for the re-entry point was good: we’re in an alley I’d noticed when we arrived, running parallel to the building. The trike is not far away. If the thugs inside are preoccupied closing the breach and / or working out what the heck went down in that room, we might have some time up our sleeves.

  Danielli’s eyes meet mine. I think I can manage to get to my feet. We nod at each other briefly, then I stagger along the side of the building, staying close to it, Danielli loping ahead of me, Pedro behind.

  We turn the corner to Pedro’s trike.

  There’s a short figure astride it. He turns and beams.

  “India! So good to see you again,” Errikson says.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Errikson’s men close in around us. Bruno appears from his building, rubbing his head, his eyes blazing. Errikson laughs, and bounds off the trike. “I told you she was dangerous, but no, you told me no girl would trouble you.”

  My passionate kiss with Danielli was for nothing. Well almost nothing: it had intrinsic value. But, someone alerted Errikson, that’s for sure. And now I can’t believe my eyes. Clearly Errikson has some deal going down with Bruno. Last time I was on Ganymede, they were at each other’s throats. The Sector has truly turned upside down.

  Errikson stops laughing and stares at me. “Let’s take our three heroes somewhere else. Those sirens are giving me a headache.”

  We’re bundled into a hovervan and whisked away. I look at Pedro. His eyes are filled with despair. I lean over and whisper. “I’m not done yet.” He manages a brief smile, which quickly fades.

  I’m not entirely sure how confident I am of my statement, but something inside me refuses to be beaten. I’m the captain of a battlecruiser, goddammit. I still have a trick or two up my sleeve.

  Danielli catches my expression. “Impressive fighting skills back there, Ma’am.” I know he’s trying to make me feel better.

  “Didn’t work though, did it?”

  We sit in silence while the van bumps and bounds along like a beach ball in the low-gee. We jolt to a halt, and I sense us being lifted. I hear voices outside, but not what they say.

  Then we all feel the gravity briefly intensify, pressing us into our seats. “We’re leaving the surface,” Danielli says.

  “The shipyards?” I look over to Pedro, still with his head hung low. He lifts it up and nods, then drops down again.

  We journey for what feels like thirty minutes, then a distant clang confirms what we suspected: we’re docking in the shipyards. The van doors open, and I see the entire van has been lifted into a cargo hold. One of Errikson’s crew throws in three suits. “Put these on, unless you’re contemplating suicide.”

  We suit up in silence. I float out of the van and let the mag boots connect me to the deck. Errikson is over by a gantry; the airlock we have connected to is surrounded by cranes, gantries and other locks. He motions for us to come over and our guard pushes us forward. Unnecessarily in my mind. Where else was I going to go?

  Danielli accidentally bumps into me, as if his mag boot caught on something. I hear his voice quietly through my faceplate when we bump together. “E.B. active.”

  I do not acknowledge him, but keep my eyes trained on Errikson. He turns to greet me. “Ms Jackson. Always a delight.” Most people imagine Errikson to be some Nordic-descended blonde, heavily muscled and big-boned. But I am almost double his height. Errikson is a dwarf: stunted from birth by radiation. No doubt Ganymede’s environment suits him.

  “You’re working for the Jovians.”

  He waves my statement away and shrugs. “Everyone works for someone. I heard you were working for Sloper.” He points to Danielli. “He works for you. I also believe
you owe me a lightCruiser. What’s your point?”

  What is my point?

  “You want me for something. You’re under the Jovians’ thumb. Therefore they must want me for something. So let’s cut to the chase. What is it?”

  The small man’s face breaks out into a broad grin. “If only Frederic could see you now—”

  I manage to lash out and plant one kick into his groin before I am restrained. Not that it will hurt much in almost zero-gee.

  “If Papa could see me now, you would be dead, not him.”

  He throws up one hand, the other rubbing his groin. “We’ll all be that way one day, darlin’. I’d prefer not to arrive as quickly as some, of course ...” He looks me up and down.

  “What?” I glare at him.

  “You’re going to help me.”

  “Of course I am. And the Blood Empire are nice neighbors. Any other fanciful ideas?”

  He sighs and holds his hand out to one side. A man next to him puts a holocube in it. Errikson holds it up to me. I reach to grab it, but he jerks it away and taps play. The video shows my brother. Not near-naked anymore, but dirty, haggard and wild-eyed. I reach for the cube again, but Errikson holds it away from my grasp. “Ha! See ... I do know what you want.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Oh but it is. You see, I have something you want, which in turn is something Sloper wants, and Sloper has something—or someone—you want.”

  I screw my face up. “Then what do you want from me?”

  “Access to this.” He manipulates the holocube and an image of a massive starship drive fills the space over our heads. Danielli and I exchange glances. Errikson nods. “That’s right. The drive from a certain not-so-mythical battlecruiser.” He flicks the image off. “A little robofly told me you might hold a clue to the drive. Help me access the drive and I might even let you go. With the drive. Once I’m done. A parting gift, you might say.”

  I push aside my confusion. “Where did you get it?” More to the point, how did he manage to cut that thing out?

  “My dear. I thought that much was obvious. But I see by the look on your face that you are more interested in how we did such a fine job extracting this ... monstrosity.”

  I say nothing.

  He smirks. “You have no idea, do you?”

  I let out a breath. “Enough with your games, Errikson. Do share your magnificence. How did you liberate this thing—if it’s what you say it is?”

  He looks up at me, beaming through his faceplate. “Ah, but that’s my point. I didn’t. Your father did.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I am speechless. But what I don’t understand is this: if Errikson needs me to access the Constellation’s drive, why would he let me go? Why would he give me the drive to refit the Constellation for Sloper? I’m certain he has no idea I’m the Constellation’s slightly hobbled Captain, or that I’ve found the legendary battlecruiser, so why does he think I can access the drive? I realize I’m back to square one: why would he give it away, once accessed?

  And then it dawns on me. The technology in the drive must be worth more than either the drive itself, or even the Constellation. The realization is crushing: that if the Jovians get their hands on a technology powerful enough that it trumps the galaxy’s most revered battlecruiser, we’re all in a pile of Bellatian excrement.

  All this rockets through my head while I look Errikson in the eye. I collect myself and take stock. Danielli is on my right, Pedro behind Danielli. We’re all about fifty meters away from the airlock. They are all heavily armed. We are not.

  “What makes you think I can get you access?”

  Errikson laughs. “Let’s just say I have inside information. A simple job. Then you are free to leave, once I have taken what I need.” He sees my expression. “Oh yes. Like I said, you can take it with you. A big chunk of scrap alloy like that? Might be some credits in it for you. Good luck finding all the other parts though.”

  He confirms he has no idea I have the Constellation. I feel goosebumps on my neck. I have seconds to play this out before the action starts. I can only hope Aktip and Plexi have been meticulous in their investigation of the shipyards.

  “I won’t do it.”

  Errikson is caught with his mouth open. He closes it slowly and narrows his eyes. “Well. You leave me no other choice. I wasn’t going to spoil a pretty girl, especially after your father so generously helped me out.” Two men walk up carrying a coffin-like box at each end. Errikson motions them to stop. He lifts up the top and beckons me to look inside.

  I gasp. In the box is a SIM. A female SIM. An exact replica. Of me.

  He smiles and my blood runs cold. “All I need now is some of your skin, your neuro-impulse pattern, and a working voiceprint. I was quite prepared to do the right thing. I’d like to say that it won’t hurt a bit.” He shrugs. “But it will.”

  And then all hell breaks loose.

  The hangar lock behind us shatters in a barrage of automatic lasercannon fire. Errikson’s men scatter and take shelter behind the various crates and boxes in the small entry hangar. But it doesn’t save them from Plexi’s ire. Danielli pulls Pedro to the starboard bulkhead and I boot myself off the magnetic surface and fly to the overhead.

  I risk a quick look at the destroyed hangar’s airlock. Just beyond it hovers our salvage vessel. I can’t quite believe my eyes at first. Strapped to the nose of the sizable vessel is a small, suited figure brandishing a lasercannon in each hand. Our unarmed salvage ship just went military.

  Plexi is firing at anything that moves ... and anything that doesn’t. A voice hacks into my suit’s helmet. “Ma’am? Is that you up on the overhead?”

  “Copy that. Danielli and Pedro are directly below me. Cover us to your port side and we’ll make our way out.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Errikson’s men are now returning fire, but something is causing them to miss Plexi completely. I’m not sure why, but I’m grateful nevertheless. I pull myself across the overhead using the various mounts and gantries. I see on the deck Danielli has spotted my movements and mirrors my trajectory, elbowing Pedro to do the same.

  The amount of firepower being exchanged is staggering. I see two D5 plastisteel containers completely melt under Plexi’s sustained barrage. Errikson’s men, surprised and overwhelmed by an unusual and unprecedented attack are falling back. I see no sign of Errikson.

  The three of us make it to the edge of what’s left of the large airlock, and I push down to join the others. On the side of our ship I see a squat suited figure tethered to the sidelock, aiming a rescue line launcher at us. I wave to attract attention, and the figure fires the line at us. The line lands at Danielli’s feet, the autoclaw tears into the deck’s alloy and grips. Danielli looks at me and motions frantically. “Go. Move it!”

  It’s not a time to think, but to take action, so I obey his orders and throw myself out into the stars. I hook one arm over the line to steady myself, then pull as fast as I can with both arms across to my ship. I sense firepower around me, but none hits. I reach the ship and heave myself into the lock. I turn straight away and help Pedro, then Danielli enter the ship.

  The squat figure pulls a laserknife from their utility belt, ready to cut the line. Aktip, of course. She leans out and at the same time I hear a crackle and a familiar voice in my ear comms.

  It’s Errikson. Where is he? Then I spy him across the space between us, crouched at the edge of the airlock.

  He speaks. “I thought you might be difficult. I have backup. My second choice. Shared DNA you see. I’m told he’s for sale, too. Shame you ruined a good deal. I think Michelangelo will probably agree with me.”

  I watch horrified as Errikson raises a lasersniper, and takes aim as Aktip cuts the rescue line. There is a flash right in front of me, and Aktip screams and falls back into my arms. She is still holding the cut line. I cannot help myself and I howl. “No!”

  I hold Aktip tight as Zhang speeds us away from the
shipyard and we depart Ganymede’s hellhole.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I clutch Aktip in my arms, halfway out of the open airlock. She is shivering and I can feel her head swiveling inside the custom-fitted suit someone had obviously cobbled together. A scorched rip in the suit across her waist is already self-sealing, but it only emphasizes the extent of her wound.

  A voice breaks into my helmet comm. “Hey ... I know that relatively speaking I’m going the same speed as you guys. But I’d still appreciate a hand bringing me back in.”

  It’s Plexi. In all the agony of witnessing my friend cut down in front of me, I’ve forgotten Plexi. I turn to Danielli, knowing how my face must look. “I can’t ...”

  He knows I won’t leave Aktip. He grabs a line from the lock, attaches it to his belt and heads around the front of the ship to bring Plexi back in.

  Eventually the two come back in to discover Pedro and I manhandling Aktip—whose mass is sizable—back into the ship’s airlock. Plexi sails in through the door. “Cool shooting, don’t you—” then her face drops when she spots Aktip being floated inside between Pedro and I. “Oh crap.”

  We take the Rykkan to the medbay. I remove my helmet, and I gently slide Aktip’s off fearing the worst, but she is still breathing. The wound is on her lower hip where she was exposed to Errikson’s line of fire. She’s lost a lot of blood—dark red blood, which I guess must be due to Rykkamon’s high iron content.

  After cutting her suit from her, we strap Aktip to a bunk. Pedro takes my hand. “We need to stabilize him.”

  “Her,” I say, looking at my protector, barely alive. An alien I’d never known until a few days ago, who has left her home to defend me. “She’s my friend.”

  Pedro acknowledges my correction. “Her. But you’re in shock, so let me close the wound. You have patches on board, right?”

  Danielli rummages in a med unit and holds up a pack. Pedro rips them open and without any hesitation, slaps as many patches across Aktip’s bleeding hip as it takes to cover her up.