by A. R. Knight
“He didn’t hurt me, really,” Viola said, replaying the bar scene in her mind. None of the crew had done anything to her, except help, now that Viola thought about it. But there'd been distractions. When he wasn't being attacked, Davin might focus on that bounty.
“If you’re having doubts, I can personally guarantee your safety,” Erick said. “Davin will let you walk right off this ship if I ask.”
“That’s a lot of trust.,” Puk said.
“I’m not going to leave him to die,” Viola said.
“And your generosity will be repaid,” Erick replied.
They lurched back into the ship’s entry bay. It was empty, but Viola could hear noise outside. Erick gestured to the left, a door leading to the med room. Somewhere Erick could patch himself up. Viola stayed silent, trying to keep the easiest escape route clear in her head. That and her legs were burning from keeping Erick upright. One more step, one more step.
“What I’m trying to say, Viola, is that, as you’re helping me right now, so we might be able to help you,” Erick said, then sighed. “Especially as it seems this ship won’t be going anywhere in the near future.”
17
Heal Thyself
Home, a cramped three meter by three meter med room. Seeing the bed, the countertop covered with tools laid out in strict order, labeled cabinets and the bright surgical light took the edge off Erick's constant jarring ache in his stomach.All of the equipment gained in bits and pieces. Junk here and there re-purposed to keep the crew alive. And now it would do the same for him. Hopefully.
“I’ll need you to put me on the bed,” Erick said. Viola shuffled over to the thin-cushioned apparatus, a sickly gray plastic covering and yellowed rails forming the bed’s accents. Viola twisted her body, allowing Erick to slip out of her grasp and fall onto the bed. The cushion felt cool, but then, Erick had the hot stickiness of blood over the lower half of his body right now. It only made sense.
“Are you ready?” Erick asked. “I know I am asking a lot of you, but I think you’ll be disappointed if you dragged me all this way only to have me expire upon this table.”
“Puk?” Viola asked. “Can you run the diagnostics?”
Erick watched the little bot hover over the wound in his abdomen. With proper cameras, even small bots like Puk could measure a pulse, track his breathing and pupil dilation, among other things. Still, bots were at the mercy of their programmers. One error and the readings could be wrong, fatally so. Erick preferred the personal touch.
“Looks like a nasty fist fight,” Puk said, buzzing around Erick and scanning him with its lens. “And you didn’t win it, doc. I’m reading bruises all over the place. The blood from the mouth is coming from a split lip, nothing serious. But the stomach, ouch. Did you take a hard kick there?”
“Did I? Possibly,” Erick replied, hearing the sound of his own voice, its faintness alarming. “The man’s boots were sharp.”
“That’s what I’m reading. Six-inch laceration, deep. Viola, that’s where we need to focus.”
Viola stood up, glanced around the room.
“Talk to me, Erick,” Viola said. “I don’t know where anything is here.”
“I’m sorry, my dear, but you’re going to have to learn quickly. The scissors are in that top drawer on the left, along with the stitching supplies,” Erick said. “But before you close the wound, you’ll want to make sure that, um, that…”
Erick tried to stay focused, but the world decided to swirl. To dim and lighten at random. The blood loss was causing the problems. But Erick hadn’t seen this side in person before. Experienced the loss of control that came as his limbs, his mind started shutting down. It was horribly fascinating.
“Hey, Viola, he’s crashing here. Since you want to help this guy, we have to move!” Puk announced, the words echoing and fading, coming to Erick's ears from another world. “Lift the shirt away!”
Erick felt his shirt being pulled.So sticky there, around his stomach. The snip of a scissors on the fabric.
“It wasn’t a good shirt anyway,” Erick mumbled. The girl ought to know that. So she wouldn’t feel bad ruining it.
“Now what?” Viola asked. Erick wasn’t sure what she meant.
The ache was diminishing, a battery of agony quieting to the smallest of pin-pricks. A bad sign. Come on, Erick, it's not time to quit yet. Erick forced his eyes open, focused on the bright light.
“I don’t think he got that from a kick,” Puk said. “Looks like a knife wound.”
A knife wound. Were they talking about him? They might be. Back to the present.
“At least it looks clean,” Puk said. “Relatively anyway. Organs beneath look OK. We’re just dealing with a lot of blood loss.”
“Oh, is that all?” Viola said.
“Count your blessings, sister,” Puk replied. “Now, let’s get to stitching.”
The first stitch felt like a poke. A second poke. The girl was moving quickly. Doing well. A third poke. Every tiny lance through his skin felt like a stride towards life.A fourth poke. Lacing the skin together was always his favorite part. It meant the job was nearly done, and it was only necessary if the patient lived. A sign of success.The fifth poke was hard, sharp. Erick sat up. His eyes tracked down, saw Viola and Puk leaning over his stomach. Her hands, gloved, were so red.
“That doesn’t look good,” Erick said.
“Just hang in there, Doc. We got this,” Puk said.
The pokes continued. One after another. Erick laid back, darkness flashing at the corners of his eyes. But he held onto those pokes. Each one another rung in that ladder leading up to sanity. He could let go, fall back into that endless chasm. But then, when had he, doctor on a mercenary ship far from the comforts of Earth, chosen the easy route?
An infinity later, Erick’s eyes fluttered open. An IV tube led into his front wrist. His stomach felt tight, the pain muted. Viola over there in the corner, sitting in the chair looking dazed. The sound of boots on metal echoed through the ship. Either the good guys were back, or enemies coming to finish the job. Ironic, if it was the latter. All this to save an old man just to have him gunned down.
The door to the cargo room opened, and Davin’s face appeared.
“You alive, Erick?” Davin said, stepping into the room.
Viola’s face twitched. Erick could see her muscles tighten. Thinking about a run for it. The little bot was out of sight, no doubt planning some sneak attack to buy the girl some time.
“Thanks to the girl, yes.”
Davin glanced at Viola, but continued to Erick, looking over the stitch work and the IV.
“Not bad,” Davin muttered. “What’s your timetable?”
“A few hours. Maybe less.”
“We’re going to move in twenty. After everyone gets geared up.”
“Move?”
“They have Trina. And Cadge, now. If we want to get the Jumper off the ground, we’ll need Trina back.”
Of course they took Trina. Of course he’d been unable to prevent it.
“I’m sorry, Davin.”
“Not your fault,” the captain said. “Now, Viola. What’re we going to do with you?”
18
What It Takes
Davin walked Viola out of the med room, had her throw away the bloody gloves and shut off that blinding light so Erick could sleep. The central hold was empty, the others getting a hot minute to take a breath before the real fun started.
Looking at the painted walls of his cargo hold, Davin realized his vision wasn't swimming anymore. He wasn't listing from side to side. Amazing what getting punched and shot at will do for sobriety.
“So what are you running from?” Davin said. Viola and her floating bot shied away from him, her back to a wall.
“I’m not running,” Viola said.
“Oh really. Just came alone to this frozen hellscape of a moon as a vacation?”
Behind Viola, painted on the wall, was one of Mox’s works. The gray towers of the lunar
surface, a dot of blue in the sky for Earth. Always amazed Davin how the big man kept perspective,
“I was bored,” Viola said. “It sounds stupid, I know. But that’s what it was.”
“You’re talking to a guy who just started a fight with the police. Stupid is very familiar,” Davin let her have the wall, stood a meter away towards the center of the room. Spend enough time on a spaceship and personal space gets to be a big deal. “See, what I’m trying to find out is whether you’re a problem or an opportunity, why don’t you help me out.”
“I’m not trying to be anything,” Viola replied, folding her arms and staring at the ground.
“So you’re open to ideas, then?”
The girl looked up at him. Dammit if Davin wasn’t a sop for a hope-filled face. Phyla should be here, ready to throw the cold bucket of reality on the star-faring fantasy Davin was going to offer.
“I’m not a fan of bounty chasers,” Davin continued. “Those guys at the bar. It'd feel good to stiff them. Take you out of their reach.”
“Meaning what?”
Viola was looking Davin dead-on now. Good. The girl had a spine.
“Meaning I’m not a fan of freeloaders either. Or rich kids that don’t have anything to contribute. You want to ride with us, you have to make it worth my while.”
“Who says I want to come with you?”
“You don’t, I’ll let you walk off this ship right now. Ramp’s right there. Take your chances with Whelk. He's real nice once you get to know him.”
The bot buzzed Viola’s ear. Davin didn’t eavesdrop. If he was reading the kid right, if she had the guts to fly here on her own and walk into that bar tonight…
“That man back there? The one you punched?” Viola said. “He called you murderers.”
The words hung there in the air, the silent question tied to them.
“And what do you think?” Davin replied. “We look like a bunch of killers to you?”
“Puk ran your name. There’s a charge.”
“Let me guess, from today?”
Viola nodded. A universal Free Laws registry synced recorded crimes in a database across satellites, available to anyone. People looking for coin could chance bringing someone in for the reward, otherwise Free Law-signing cities would arrest anyone on the list.
“What’d they put us?”
“Three-hundred thousand,” Viola said, and Davin couldn’t stop a whistle. An amount over five thousand brought the hunters out from the shadows. This high, the Nines would attract the real rough customers.
“We must be dangerous then. How about before that? Anything?”
“Nothing like this,” Viola said. “Small stuff.”
“See? We’re harmless.”
“Uh huh.”
“Look,” Davin said. “I was where you were. Stuck in a place I didn’t want to be and offered an out. We need another member.”
“I’m not a mercenary,” Viola said, spreading her arms as if to show she wasn’t carrying a dozen weapons.
“Did you program that bot?” Davin said, eyes moving to Puk.
“Yeah. Went a little overboard on a class project.”
“Then we can use you,” Davin glanced at his comm. “I have to get my gear. You want to leave, the ramp’s right there. You think you want to stay, go up to the cockpit and talk to Phyla.”
Davin turned and left before Viola could ask another question. The girl looked like she would fit in nicely if she stayed. Bonus, she’d come cheap. And if she didn’t work out, there was always that bounty.
Davin’s cabin was the largest on the ship. Ramshackle souvenirs from a dozen spaceports littered the room, from stick-figure statues of the first native Martians to swirling balls of gas literally captured from Jupiter’s atmosphere.
Towards the head of the bed, near his own pillow, Davin had a lamp that filtered light through a blue slate of Europa ice. In the locker on the right side was his objective, hanging on a hook.
Melody was the deadly parting gift of the last captain, along with the Jumper itself. The departing captain didn't say anything about it, and Davin found Melody on his first walk through the ship, no note except a full supply of charged battery packs for ammo. Davin slotted a fresh charge into Melody right then, slipped a couple more into his pack.
Next to Melody was the same series of sidearm everyone on the Jumper carried. Gotta love bulk discounts. The weapons weren’t much in a big fight, but they’d knock a man out cold if Davin shot him close.
“Mox, Merc, Opal, you ready?” Davin said into his comm. “And hey, we’re marked at three hundred thousand. Be ready in case there’s a surprise.”
Three clicks came back. The universal affirmative. Time to stage a rescue.
19
Video Evidence
Phyla ran her hands over the three consoles that made up the Jumper’s cockpit. A pair of cushioned chairs nestled in the middle, one of which she occupied. The view closed off now, the armor shades blocking outside light. She was busy checking to see whether their visitors had left any nasty surprises. The idea that someone had been pushing these buttons, adjusting her settings had Phyla feeling ill, violated.
“Hello?” Said a voice behind her. Phyla jerked around and tried to put on a neutral expression. Viola, wasn’t that her name? The girl was staring past Phyla, at the shifting updates on the consoles as they ran through their checks of the Jumper’s systems.
“They change based on what the ship’s doing.” Phyla said. “Because we’re resting, it’s telling us all the things we’d be interested in for a maintenance stop, or a cargo load.”
Viola nodded and Phyla reached her hand towards the central console, then gestured, sweeping the status updates away. An overlay of choices appeared, words beneath simple icons. Flight, cargo, life support. Tap and Phyla could get a second-by-second update on every part of the Jumper.
“All of these are different sets?” Viola asked.
“You got it,” Phyla replied. “Davin trusts me to keep the Jumper running, and I start by keeping the systems as advanced as possible. It’s how we know that if we tried lifting off,even if we could get the outer bay door open, they blocked the cooling systems. We’d be in the air a few minutes, then the engines would overheat. We'd be a firework.”
“Is it because they think you killed somebody?”
“Maybe,” Phyla said, watching the life support checks come back green. One system that wasn’t sabotaged, anyway. “I think we’re being set up.”
“For what?”
“Eden's upset they lost a pair of inspectors, so Marl pastes us with the blame. Why they canceled our contract. But what I don’t understand is why Marl gave us twenty-four hours to leave, and then ambushed us outside of a bar,” Phyla continued. “And try to kill our doctor, kidnap our mechanic.”
“She changed her mind?” Puk said.
“But why?” Phyla bit her lip. Eden was a business, an entity that moved slow and evaluated all the options before targeting the most profitable one. Why shift out a security contract so fast when evidence was on the Nines side?
“So,” Viola said. “Davin said to come talk to you if I wanted to stay.”
“He tell you why?”
“To come to you? No.”
“Watch this,” Phyla said.
Phyla waved a hand over the center console and the display shifted up and appeared over the closed windshield. A much larger screen. Tapping an icon of a camera, the panel shifted to a display showing several recordings taken over the last few days. The first box listed a time only a few hours old. Phyla touched it and the video played.
Trina, a tiny with blue hair - her color of the month - knotted into a bun, was digging through a supply container in the Jumper’s main bay. A few seconds in, Trina paused in her rummaging and glanced towards the ramp. The angle caused the back of Trina’s head to face the camera, the boarding ramp visible on the right side of the frame.
“That’s Trina.” Phyla said. “Our m
echanic. There’s no sound in these, unfortunately, so I have idea what she’s saying down the ramp.”
Trina edged closer to the boarding ramp and then jumped past it to the control panel on the wall. The mechanic pulled a small lever and the boarding ramp retracted. On the low edge of the ramp, an arm appeared, then a head. A trooper climbed his way up the ramp as it swung closed. Trina saw the guy too and reached back into the crate for one of the metal tools. Holding it out in front of her like a club, Trina backed away.
“You think she’s running, but Trina knows every inch of this ship.” Phyla said. “That panel there, put enough weight on it and it’ll give. Just a bit, but enough.”
The trooper took a step towards Trina and stumbled as his knee dropped farther than he expected. Trina leaned in, swinging the metal club. The trooper moved his left arm in the way, taking the hit and falling right. With his other arm, the trooper pulled out a small object that flashed. Trina froze, the club dropping from her grip. She fell after it, lying on the floor.
“She’s only stunned,” Viola said. “The color, it’s based on the make-up of the energy triggered. The white, it’s more electrical, locks up the nervous system.”
Phyla glanced at Viola. The girl knew her colors. It was a start.
In the video, the man walked over to the control panel and reversed the boarding ramp’s course. He turned and shouted something down the opening. Then an orange blast from off the screen lanced through the cargo bay and into the trooper's side.
“Erick?” Viola said.
“Better shot than you’d think,” Phyla said. “I’ve never figured out where he learned how to fight so well.”
The trooper stumbled onto the ramp, then fell to his knees. Erick walked into the feed, towards the control panel, but a flurry of guns from out of sight launched lasers up into the ship, driving Erick back. The doctor settled for reaching Trina and dragging her away. Two seconds later and more troopers appeared on the ramp, moving upward in a crouch, guns ready and pointed. Erick and Trina weren’t in the shot any longer.