Stranded: (Space Outlaw 2)

by Dominique Mondesir

  "I can't say I do."

  "Really?"

  "No. All of my previous lovers were handpicked, like a delicate flower, by me. They experienced something that will stay with them forever. Making love with me is really a curse if you--"

  Phoenix felt another plasma bolt skim the top of his head, giving off the smell of singed hair.

  "Argh! Enough of this," said Phoenix.

  He looked ahead and saw a crane loaded with barrels. He waited until they had run past it to turn around and aim for the links that held it together. Firing at it repeatedly warped the metal, bringing down its contents and blocking their pursuers' path.

  "That should hold them, for now. Let's make a move," said Phoenix.

  "It won't be long till they are looking for us."

  "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it... Was there really no one else?" said Phoenix.

  "Shut up!"

  Blake rubbed his scarred hands over his bald head as he walked. He stopped every so often and let out a heavy sigh. Rolling his tense neck, he heard it crack and pop. Finally he stood before an unmarked door, and once again he passed his hands over his head.

  He lifted his hand to knock, but it paused midair. He brought it back down and scratched the back of his head. He straightened his clothes. He bit his lip. And still he didn't knock or enter.

  His closed fist came up and stopped an inch away from the door. It hovered, it waited; for what, he didn't really know.

  He let out a last sigh and his fist descended towards the door. The sound it made as it connected caused his heart to sink deeper than it already had.

  "Enter!"

  Blake did as he was told and walked into Duke's office.

  Chaos wasn't the right word to describe the room.

  Weapons of all shapes and sizes, from knives to guns and everything between, littered the office walls. A few were still blood-smeared. No, chaos wasn't the word that came to mind. Destruction was.

  "Well?" asked Duke.

  A frown crept over Blake's face. He waved his hands in front of him, disinterested in the information that he was giving.

  "How much did we lose?"

  Blake told him with a wave of his hand, as if it didn't matter.

  "That's all of the day's takings. How could we lose so much at the VRG store? We had our best guy playing against some chump! All he had to do was play through the script! Just follow it. Did our boys take him outside and show him what we think of losers?" asked Duke.

  Blake gave a small nod.

  "Good. I don't want any of our boys to lose this week. We can't afford it. We need to make a profit. Make sure that Kai fixes whatever glitch made us lose that game."

  Blake raised his eyebrow and threw out different hand gestures in quick succession.

  "Whoa, whoa, you're going too fast. Who lost who?"

  Blake slowed his hands down before ending his gesticulating monologue with fingers shaped like a gun firing into the air.

  "It could only be one person that would ever want to speak to Baldric. But she's... If this person with an earring was with her, then this could mean trouble. Not much, but you never know. Do you think she could be back?"

  Blake gave Duke a small shrug.

  "Whoever this earring fucker is, he seems to be quite capable. Injuring one of our guys and giving four others the slip is something not many people could do."

  Blake rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  "I know you may not think much of them, but they are the best men I can afford. Now, will you make sure that Kai fixes whatever glitch happened?"

  Blake threw his hands up in the air and started to walk out the room.

  "Blake, what's the matter? You've been acting strange lately," said Duke.

  Blake turned on the spot and began to signal with force. His movements had no fluidity or flow. Each signal ended in a definite stroke. Each signal came down like a guillotine.

  "What do you mean, I don't care about you?"

  Blake pointed to himself again and shrugged his shoulders forward.

  "Look, the business has taken up more of my time than I wanted it to, but that doesn't mean I care about you any less. It's just--"

  Blake stamped his foot and turned away, marching towards the closed door.

  Duke chased after him before he could open the door. Duke turned Blake around and lifted his head till they made eye contact.

  "Look, things have been crazy around here lately, but why don't me and you go off world for a little bit, after this is all over? What you say?"

  Blake brushed Duke's hand off his face and pointed to both of them before pulling his hands apart.

  "I can't help that we've been growing apart. I'm trying to make amends, here. After the business--"

  Blake turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

  14

  The crew sat around a table in a dark corner of Rusty's. L retold what had happened, as best she could, with Phoenix filling in the parts she missed. Half-finished drinks rested on the tables in front of them.

  Phoenix passed his hand over his chin, sandpaper stubble greeting his palm. He took another sip of his drink and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When was the last time he slept? It seemed like days had flown past, in the blink of an eye, since they had crash-landed on this planet.

  The joy he had first felt at arriving here had all but disappeared. When people were shooting at you, you couldn't exactly enjoy the scenery.

  "Where's Freyan?" said Phoenix.

  "He said he needed supplies," replied Saoirse.

  "What for?"

  "How am I supposed to know?"

  "I was just asking," said Phoenix.

  Saoirse folded her arms over her chest and stared off into the distance.

  What's her problem?

  "I need to get my brother out of here," L said. "He's not safe, and I don't know how much longer he will be useful to Duke. Once Duke finds a replacement for him, it will all be over. Duke will kill him without a second thought. I need... I need---" She slammed her fist down on the table, toppling her drink over.

  "Sorry," she said, wiping up the spilled contents.

  "See, that's why I never had much to do with family," said Plowstow.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix saw Saoirse's jaw set. Her hand began to tap along the handle of her knife.

  "I mean, they're more hassle than they're worth. Me–if it was me–I would just leave him be. He got himself in this mess, he can get himself out. Siblings! Who needs them? You need to be more like me, L. I'm a survivor, a warrior--"

  Saoirse shot up from where she sat, fire in her eyes. Phoenix had seen it coming, and held down the hand that was beginning to draw her knife. She looked at him with a snarl on her lips. Phoenix kept his hand firm and simply shook his head.

  "Dishonourable--" Saoirse began, but cut herself off. She slapped Phoenix's hand away and stormed out, shoving aside anyone unlucky enough to get in her way.

  "What's her problem?" Plowstow asked.

  "Let me take a guess, you dick! Your utter lack of compassion for anyone apart from yourself. Your selfishness. Your downright lack of sensitivity to anyone's feelings. Your total lack of respect for your crewmates--"

  "I didn't ask--"

  "I know you didn't ask, Plowstow! But like it or lump it, we're all you've got. Now, you either shape up or ship out. It's your choice! No one is forcing you to be here. You're free to leave, whenever you like," said Phoenix.

  Plowstow shot from his chair, forcing it back, and it landed on the floor with a bang. "Well, if that... I can't... Have it your way."

  Plowstow turned on his heel and walked away from them, chest puffed up, arms swinging like pendulums in grandfather clocks.

  "Well, that could have gone better," said Phoenix.

  L said nothing but simply stared into her now empty glass. The other customers went back to their conversations and drinks, and the noise slowly started to rise. The show was over; there was nothi
ng interesting to gawk at.

  "What's up with Saoirse?"

  "She's upset that she wasn't there when we went to the VRG store. She can be a bit prideful, sometimes."

  "This captain shit is a pain in the ass. They always make it look so easy in the movies. Argh. It's like dealing with a bunch of children."

  Phoenix rubbed his face and stared at the ceiling, hoping to find the answers to his problems there.

  L whispered, "When I was younger, I always thought that the older you got, the more you knew, and the easier everything would become. But the older I get, the more I realise how little I know."

  "L, I am many things. A lot of those things are not nice. But I am a man of my word, and when I told you I would protect you, and make sure that nothing bad would ever come of you, I meant it. We will find your brother and get him back. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  15

  Holger lay sprawled on what appeared to be a sofa with wheels, while two of his slaves–or servants, as he called them–pulled him along. A small fan blew a cooling mist on his face. He tilted his head back and let out a small sigh. He could use any one of the automated vehicles to drive him anywhere he wanted to go on the ship, but being pulled along had a certain personal touch.

  Who was he, to walk like some commoner? Like some low-born bastard birthed on some smugglers' ship. No, he would use all the available power at his disposal. More fool those that didn't.

  "Take me to the conference room. I have an urgent meeting with my father. No doubt he wants to congratulate me on all my recent successes."

  The servants looked at each other, smirks threatening to burst from the corners of their mouths.

  Servants and guards alike lowered their heads as Holger was pulled along. Not a head that they passed was bowed fully. Some barely managed a slight nod. Most had barely-hidden smirks; all had looks of disgust.

  "Hurry! I must not be late for my appointment with Father. He needs my counsel."

  One of the servants pulling Holger along turned his laughter into a coughing fit. He slapped his chest and looked up at Holger. "Sorry, my lord. I don't feel all too well lately."

  "Hmm–see to it or I will replace you. Can't stand the sick."

  Stopping at the door to the conference room, Holger got up and allowed his eyes to travel down his body. "How do I look?" he asked the two servants.

  Scuffed and watermarked shoes were barely covered by wrinkled trousers. His uniform blazer sat lumpily, the buttons stretched to breaking point, as the cloth struggled to contain his bulging stomach. Food stains marked his cuffs.

  "You cut a fine figure, sir."

  "Dashing, if I may say so," replied the other.

  "I thought as much," said Holger.

  He walked into the conference room and was greeted by a hologram of a man standing with his hands behind his back. His salt and pepper hair was cut short and a slight scar ran the length of his jaw. Seeing Holger approach, he clenched his jaw, making the scar ripple. His uniform was finely pressed and hugged the contours of his body like a second skin. Gleaming medals sat at his breast pocket, and the pocket displayed the image of a hand gripping chain links and the family motto: We never forget.

  "Ajax, where is Father?"

  Ajax breathed heavily through his nose before responding. "He is unavailable at the present time."

  "Unavailable? Unavailable!"

  "Yes, Holger, unavailable. It means he can't be here at the present time. It means--"

  "I know what it means, you dolt."

  Ajax raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing.

  Holger paced up and down, stomping his feet like a child. "He knows what today is. What's so important that he had to miss talking to me?"

  "He is...sparring. Training--"

  "Sparring! Fucking sparring! Is this a joke, Ajax? No, how can it be? He always preferred that to me. He always preferred many things to me. I would like to speak with him. Can you get him for me?"

  "Holger, it isn't the best time, right now. After losing Earth's resources...your father has to review things and try and regain what he lost. That task in itself is proving more difficult than he would have thought.

  "Plus, with the Council digging into everyone's affairs, things are strained, right now. There are big plays being made by unknown players in the shadows. Your father needs a clear head and some time to decide what to do next."

  "But, Ajax...it's my birthday. I thought..."

  "Things like birthdays will have to wait for another time, I am afraid, young master."

  "But Earth wasn't my fault. How was I supposed to know it would end up the way it did? Smit failed me. It was out of my hands. Surely Father sees that?"

  "He--"

  "You must make him see that I tried my hardest. It wasn't my fault. I tried, but things just didn't work out like they should have done."

  Ajax's face turned to stone and all pity left his eyes.

  "I am making amends," Holder said. "I have my best people working on it. That bastard who ruined our plans will learn what it means to cross a Portendorfer. He will--"

  The hologram of Ajax disappeared, and the last image Holger was left with was of Ajax shaking his head in disgust.

  16

  Plowstow walked with his head bowed and hood up. Glancing furtively behind him, he stopped in doorways, every so often, and counted to ten. Satisfied that no one was following him, he continued on. Resting his hand on the pistol on his hip gave Plowstow some security. It wasn't much, but it would do.

  The dark shadows lurking in the mouths of alleyways took a step back as Plowstow exposed the gun at his side. Sidestepping over the occasional dead animal, Plowstow fixed his gaze forward and marched on.

  He came to a stop under the fading red sign of a boarded-up shop. Pulling his cloak around him, Plowstow slipped into a groove in the wall and waited. His breath billowed out before him, and he pulled his cloak tighter around him.

  Fuck this planet! The days were humid, and hotter than working on a mining ship on Rar, but the nights were cold enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

  Click, click, click.

  Plowstow tightened his grip on the handle of his pistol and drew back further into the shadows. He held his breath and waited. He didn't move from his spot for fear of being found. Tilting his head into the breeze that swept past him, carrying any sound, he listened and waited.

  But still nothing came.

  Night must be playing tricks.

  A sound to his left made him draw his pistol. Rapid breaths were expelled from his body, running away from him like wild horses. Plowstow scanned the darkness in front of him, searching, looking.

  He could have sworn that he had heard something.

  Maybe...

  "You're getting jumpy in your old age," whispered a voice just behind his ear.

  Plowstow whipped round bringing his pistol to bear, but was stopped short as the barrel of a gun was placed under his chin. It hummed slightly with power.

  "Now, now, big boy. We wouldn't want to do anything rash, would we?"

  Plowstow tried to swallow but his mouth had become dry. He licked his lips and stared at the person in front of him. Orange hair fell just below her ears in a short bob. Smooth green skin was pulled tight over a lean, muscled frame. Slight curves stood out against the leather outfit she wore. Her canines shone in the darkness. Inviting, welcoming, hungry.

  "Odessa," said Plowstow.

  "Plowstow, darling, how have things been?"

  "Good. But it would go a lot better if you took that damn pistol out of my face."

  Odessa tilted her head slightly and gave Plowstow a smirk. The pistol still remained.

  "I thought we were here to do business," Plowstow said. "I ain't got all day, you know. Got things to do. People to see. Credits to make. I can take my business elsewhere, if you ain't interested."

  "Plowstow, Plowstow, Plowstow." Odessa accompanied every word with a pat on the side of Plowstow's face.


  "What?"

  "How did you ever survive out there?" she asked.

  "What?"

  "I don't mean on this rotten planet. I mean among the stars. Someone like you should have died years ago. If there ever was a god, you should be paying them for their kindness in regards to your health."

  "I do just fine, thank you. I have survived for this long because of my smarts."

  Odessa brought a hand to her mouth to hold back a snort. Shaking her head, she looked left and right. Not seeing any threats, she lowered her gun slightly but didn't put it away.

  "What took you so long? I been waiting here in this stinking alley for what feels like forever. This is bad--"

  "Don't lie, honey. I saw your scared little form jumping at every little shadow. You haven't been here long," said Odessa.

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because I know everything, darling." Odessa smiled.

  Plowstow scratched his groin before giving Odessa a look of disdain. "You have my credits?"

  "Maybe. You have the product?"

  "What do you take me for, some fool? You'll get to see the product when I see the right amount of credits."

  Odessa let out a sigh and brought the holocom on her wrist to her face. She punched in some numbers and a projection formed in the air between the two of them. It displayed numbers that brought a smile to Plowstow's face.

  "Very nice," said Plowstow.

  "Now. Can I see what I am buying?"

  Plowstow let out a bark of laughter before shaking his head. "You think I'm that stupid? To bring it here?"

  "Well, the thought did cross my mind."

  "I will message you a time and a place to do the deal. A crowded place. I have heard how you treat people you do business with. Until then, stay on the planet, and I will be in touch soon."

  Plowstow made his way back the way he had come with a smile on his face. Things were finally going his way.

  17

  Phoenix made his way up a flight of stairs toward the rooms they were staying in. They had managed to secure rooms above Rusty's, after Saoirse had a quiet chat with the landlord. Whatever had been said was lost on Phoenix, but there had been much head nodding and smiling from the owner.