War in the Fringe - Chris J Pike

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War in the Fringe - Chris J Pike Page 30

by M. D. Cooper


  Rogers smiled and pointed out the window. They were coming up on an asteroid.

  “That better not be Chimin-5,” Ricket warned as they flew past the oblong rock.

  “No, that was three,” Rogers replied. “It’s the big one—well it’s the smallest now, but it’ll be the biggest soon. Steady as we go.”

  “Steady as we go seems to be giving this thing more credit than it deserves,” Ricket muttered.

  Rogers shook his head. “I just like saying that when I fly—though usually not aloud. Been doing it since I was a kid.”

  Ricket gave him another of her sidelong glances. “You know, I don’t really know much about you other than you’re a pilot and that you like to eat. What’s your story? What trauma makes you what you are?”

  Rogers shrugged. “No big story. My parents didn’t die in a blaze of glory. They’re still alive. My mom’s a biologist, my dad constructs buildings. Five brothers and sisters. Happy life. I was always handsome, funny, and popular.”

  Ricket snorted. “I knew you were too good to be true.”

  Really? She thinks that? Rogers cleared his throat. “I have a twin sister. She actually became a pilot for the SSF. Fighting the good fight was her thing. I got into it because she did. Didn’t really stick with me.”

  “A twin? Planned?”

  Rogers shook his head. “Unplanned. El-natural.”

  “Huh. Don’t meet many unplanned kids as it is, let alone twins. I guess it just proves what I suspected. You’re a freak.”

  Rogers raised his eyebrows. “A freak!? I guess that puts me in good company.”

  She gave him a flirtatious smile and a soft punch in the arm. Neither spoke for the rest of the trip, just enjoying one another’s company, as well as the starlight shining into the shell.

  Ten minutes later they could make out the receiving portal on Chimin-5, surrounded by a wide net.

  “That’s encouraging,” Rogers muttered as the shell continued its approach.

  “Just a precaution,” Ricket replied with a nervous smile.

  The shell made small maneuvers to align with the portal, and the four grav arms that extended out into space. Rogers knew that deceleration would be as abrupt as the launch, and he wasn’t disappointed.

  The shell shuddered as waves of antigravitons emanated from the four arms, rapidly slowing them before the shell slid into the receiving portal and down a long tube to the debarkation area.

  As the shell slid to a stop, Rogers tossed Ricket a jaunty grin. “See? We survived.”

  Ricket returned his smile. “I never doubted it.”

  Rogers accessed the local public network and looked for status reports and updates. There was no update on Jim’s crew’s progress. In fact, there were no updates on anything. Everything was status quo, nothing of any interest other than progress on their schedule.

  “Find anything?” Ricket asked. “It’s like this place is shut down.”

  Laura added.

  Rogers shook his head. “Nothing saying, ‘hey the bad guys are in here’, if that’s what you’re asking’. Though I guess we can take no updates for days as a sign.”

  “Well,” Ricket whispered. “Guess no one ever said this would be easy.”

  Isn’t that the truth?

  The top of the shell lifted off, and Rogers stepped onto the platform, followed closely by Ricket.

  “Gravity is minimal here,” Ricket commented. “Less than half a g.”

  Rogers nodded as he walked across the platform to the airlock leading into the station. He palmed the control, but it flashed red, reading ‘Invalid Tokens – Station Manager Access Only’.

  “On it,” Ricket said, taking a knee as she began her work hacking the door.

  Rogers leant against the bulkhead, rifle held across his chest as he peered through the airlock window. He could just make out the tunnel beyond, but only a short stretch was visible before it curved.

  “One more second….” Ricket said and a moment later, the airlock door opened. She bounced up to her feet and gave him a triumphant smirk.

  “Way to go. You ever think of being a cat burglar?” Rogers chuckled softly as they entered the airlock.

 

  Rogers asked.

  Ricket cast him a confused look as the airlock cycled open.

  Rogers replied, more curious about Ricket’s past than explaining that cookies came in boxes or bags, not jars.

  Ricket glanced at Rogers, raising her eyebrows as they advanced down the narrow tunnel.

 

 

  One of his girls—it was one of the nicest ways there was to say Kylie had been a sex-slave, a gorgeous and elegant one at that, but didn’t change the truth.

 

  Rogers said.

 

  Rogers said.

  Ricket said pointedly.

  Rogers gave Ricket a pregnant look; her comment was a little too on the nose for him. Sure, he understood what it was she was saying, but she was playing at things as much as he was.

  A few meters later, the tunnel opened up into a broad chamber. A corridor on their right bore a sign reading ‘Home Sweet Home’, and the facility’s public map listed it as crew quarters and dining services. Four other corridors—some raw rock without any dressing—led off to the refinery, and to three separate mines.

  Ricket pointed at the second tunnel from the left,

  Ricket moved into the lead and Rogers took up the rear. What a rear it was. It was hard to focus on their surroundings with Ricket’s perky ass swaying side to side in front of him.

  He tried to think of something else, like the sick workers down in Facility 99, or the smell of the place. Things that were decidedly un-sexy. At the memory of the odor, he coughed, then sneezed violently.

  Ricket asked, sounding concerned.

 

  They rounded a bend and came to a section of tunnel shrouded in darkness. The passageway thus far had been well lit, but now nothing. Hairs on the back of Rogers’ neck stood-up as his foot slipped on a loose rock. He regained his balance and froze, the tension in him mounting. He looked at the overhead and saw that one of the power lines had been cut.

  Rogers said as he peered down the tunnel.

  Ricket said.

 

  Once the armor was over his face, it replaced his vision with its feed, and the tunnel lit up in startling clarity. The darkened
section of tunnel was half filled with crates and ore haulers. Anything could be hiding in there.

  Rogers sensed, more than saw, that there were people lurking in behind them.

  “We’re not your enemy!” Rogers called out. “We’re here to get help for Chimin-1’s structural damage, people are in danger. We need you to come back with us.”

  He saw the nose of a rifle peek around a crate, angling toward them.

  “Don’t do it!” Ricket screamed. “We know you’re there. You have no element of surprise!”

  On their left, another man was creeping up from behind a stack of crates with a kinetic slug thrower. Rogers knew Ricket couldn’t see it—neither could he, but he could sense it the same way he’d felt the vibrations on Chimin-1.

  Rogers reached out and pulled her back a moment before the enemy darted around the corner and fired a shot. Ricket pulled him backward and they fell into an ore bin and flipped it over, falling in a heap.

  Ricket grunted but struggled up into a crouch as gunfire erupted around them. She pressed her back against Rogers’ as she returned fire.

  Rogers said.

 

  Rogers broke cover, aiming and squeezing off rounds by pure instinct. He didn’t know what it was about piloting the Barbaric Queen, but it seemed to have enhanced his reflexes, giving him speed like Kylie and Lana had.

  Rogers replied.

  Behind him, he heard a weapon’s barrel sing through the air, aiming in his direction, and he ducked before the shot was even fired, spinning and shooting the attacker, then turning toward another enemy and putting a round in the woman’s neck.

  Ricket glanced at Rogers, a mixture of concern and awe in her eyes.

  Tell her? That what, he could sense things moments before it happened?

  Ricket said, but Rogers could make out the doubt in her voice.

  A minute later, their attackers were all down—which Rogers and Ricket double checked before carefully clearing corners and blind spots.

  Ricket said as they came upon a stack of the same canisters from Facility 99.

  ‘Oh shit’ was right. No one was working around here because it was being used as a storage facility.

  Ricket nodded.

  Rogers said, continuing his cautious advance down the tunnel.

  Ricket said, devoid of humor. she muttered.

  Rogers replied as they cleared the last stack of crates.

 

  Rogers asked.

 

  They moved further down the tunnel, into a section where the lights were working again, and Rogers glanced at Ricket, only to see that she was giving him a penetrating stare.

 

  Rogers twisted his lips, considering his response. He didn’t want to hide the changes he was experiencing, but whenever he brought them up, people acted like he was in some sort of danger and needed to be fixed.

  Still, she was right about the need for a team to understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

 

 

 

  Ricket said, glaring at Rogers through her helmet’s visor.

 

  Ricket smacked his arm with the butt of her gun and scowled.

  Rogers turned and faced her.

 

  Rogers sighed. He liked that Ricket cared enough to badger him but didn’t really care for the actual lectures.

  Ricket gave an indignant squeak.

 

  Slowly, she nodded.

  He grinned his best roguish grin.

  She smacked his arm with the butt of her rifle again, this time harder.

  That’s what all the ladies said, but he didn’t think that was a good point to bring up just then. Instead, he gestured at a windowless plasteel door on their left.

  They walked over to it and Rogers palmed the control, only have it display a red message reading ‘Access Denied’ while emitting a rapid beeping sound.

  Rogers said.

  Ricket crouched beside the panel and keyed in a command.

 

  Ricket glanced up at him, her brown eyes wide, warm. The type of eyes he wanted to get lost in forever.

  Rogers checked the time mapped against the amount of air Chimin-1 was probably bleeding through all the fractured rock. Damn, they had been here too long already.

  He took a deep breath, glancing up and down the corridor. How did Kylie deal with this pressure all the time? Where was she? Rogers knew he’d feel better if he just knew she was OK.

  A lot better.

  THE CLIMB

  STELLAR DATE: 11.05.8948 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Chimin City, Maintenance Shaft 917A

  REGION: Chimin-1, Hanoi System (independent)

  Kylie hooked her arm around the next ladder rung and groaned. Allowing herself to hang for a moment, she closed her eyes and sighed. Her forehead was covered in a layer of sweat and grime, and her legs shook from exhaustion. She didn’t know how many rungs she had climbed, but it was way too many.

  Even though the door was in sight, Kylie didn’t know if she could go on. Her arm was nearly fully healed, but the pain was still there—and she struggled with her fatigue.

  Marge began to offer.

  Kylie shook her head in re
sponse.

  Marge’s avatar smiled.

  Despite herself—and the situation—Kylie chuckled. She drew a deep breath, and lifted her foot back to the next rung, resuming her ascent. One rung, then two, she kept pulling and climbing, using her good arm to do most of the heavy lifting.

  The door above was almost within reach. It was on the left side of the shaft, and there should have been a platform beneath it, but it was long gone, either fallen ages ago, or salvaged by some enterprising soul. Kylie sighed and climbed another rung, then two.

  Marge gave a soft giggle.

  Kylie was glad one of them had kept their sense of humor.

  She drew level with the door, and Kylie leant over, grasping the ladder rail with her right hand and doing her best to ignore the pain in her forearm.

  She brushed her fingers across the access panel, but it didn’t light up. Damn it, it was like the entire place was either falling apart, or on lockdown.

  It was Bubbs’ voice. Though it was breaking up, Kylie could recognize the growling drawl anywhere.

  Kylie couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. She shifted back to the ladder, both arms wrapped around the rungs, even hooking her chin over the bar to conserve strength.

 

  Bubbs couldn’t hear her. Kylie squeezed her eyes shut in disappointment. When she opened them back up, a surge of determination flowing through her, unlike anything she’d felt since…oh about rung one hundred or so.

 

  Marge said, all business again.

  Kylie waited as patiently as she could, managing her breathing and conserving her strength. A few minutes later, Marge gave a victorious cry and the door swung part-way open.

 

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