Stranded: (Space Outlaw 2)

by Dominique Mondesir

  "I...err..." L coughed.

  "No, no, no, my little flower, you have the wrong idea. I would never do such a thing, but I know others that would. Others housed in this building, in fact..."

  "My friends--"

  "Are not here. I believe we can both help each other, on this darkest of days. You would like to keep your dignity, and I would like to have this mission of mine go smoothly. You do as I say, and we shall both have what we want. There are a lot of people who want to lay hands on you, my little flower. Holger, for one."

  L shuddered at the name.

  "There, there. He won't even need to know of your existence, if our deal is kept. You're in safe hands."

  L could feel hands stroking her face and backed up but couldn't move any further; something solid at her back prevented her from doing so. Fingertips brushed the sides of her face. They raised goosebumps wherever they touched.

  "My friends will come for me. And when they do, Mr Bell Man, you will wish that you were never born," said L.

  "That's what I am hoping for."

  The half glass of brown liquid in front of Phoenix did nothing to soothe his mood. The glass was dirty and cloudy, like his thoughts. He picked it up, stirred the contents and knocked it back in one. It burnt on the way down. He rubbed his face and let out a sigh. The hair on his chin was now slightly longer than stubble.

  He tapped his fingers along the wood of the bar, playing a tune to the thoughts that dominated his mind. The crew couldn't stay much longer. Sooner or later someone would come knocking, and when they did, he needed to be prepared.

  What to do? What to do?

  Phoenix ordered another brown drink. He waved in a "carry-on" motion as the bartender poured until his glass was filled to the brim. Phoenix ignored the look of disdain the bartender threw his way. He wasn't feeling too great about himself. Shit had gotten out of control, and he didn't know if he could right the ship back to where it needed to be.

  He had given Plowstow and Saoirse orders, but that was just to get them thinking about something other than their conflict. He didn't know what he would do with the things he'd sent them to get, but he hoped that some idea would strike him. But still he came up blank.

  What to do? What to do?

  He slammed his fist down on the bar, earning another look from the bartender. Dammit! Wasn't this what he'd asked for? Didn't he want adventure and crazy space stories? Well, he had got what he asked for, and now he was stumped at the first hurdle. Stumped at the first planet he visited. Huh, some great space adventurer he was turning out to be.

  What to do? What to do?

  He needed a plan. Plans were never his forte, but he needed to come up with one if he didn't want to see his friends die before his eyes. Saoirse was always level-headed and had an iron sense of calm in battle. But once L was in danger, that calm came crashing down like a house of cards.

  Then there was Plowstow. Phoenix knew there was more to him than met the eye; he just couldn't figure out what. Or how Plowstow was tied up with the whole thing.

  What to do? What to do?

  The opposition had more men, more firepower, more resources, while his own group were trying to grab anything that might come in handy. Phoenix placed his head in his hands and groaned into them.

  He was up against three people who wanted him dead. No matter what shit storm he was in, Phoenix had never pissed off so many people all at once. One-maybe two–people had wanted to cause him some serious harm in the past. But he had never had this many so bloodthirsty for his downfall.

  Did you really think it was going to be this easy?

  Phoenix shook his head, resuming tapping his fingers. They left shiny marks in the grime as he played a beat that slipped him into a trance.

  His brain ran through a hundred different scenarios, but each one always ended in bodies riddled with holes. He couldn't see any way out. He couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  They were doomed.

  "Shit!

  38

  A knock on the door made Holger lift his head from the maps he was reading. He ran a hand through his hair and let out an irritated sigh. The table in front of him was covered in star maps, reports and any findings his spies had managed to acquire. Holographic images of different planets vied for space on the walls around him.

  The answer was bound to be here somewhere.

  Another knock at the door resounded, this one more forceful than the first.

  Holger slammed his balled-up fist on the desk and glared at the door. "What?"

  "My lord...there is an important call for you," said a voice through the door.

  "Take a message! I'm in the middle of something."

  "He says it can't wait. He says that because you ain't answering your holocom he was forced to contact the ship itself."

  "Who says?" said Holger.

  "He says that you wouldn't want his name being known among your crew. That saying his name is like uttering a curse of old; once it is said, the action can't be undone. That once it is known, death will befall all who were not meant to hear it," said the voice through the door.

  "I will deal with this issue. You can go back to your post."

  Holger slammed his fist down on the desk in front of him once again, scattering papers everywhere. He shook his head and looked around the room. He walked through a door into a different room. The walls of this room were bare, with nothing but cushions and chairs decorating the living space.

  Holger punched a code into his holocom and allowed the call to come through. The projection of Rustem's face beamed at him in glee.

  "Now, why would you block my calls, when this is such an important job? One of the few rules that I have is that I am able to keep in touch with my client at all times. Jobs like mine are as special as a dying star. Things change, things evolve," said Rustem.

  "I am busy. Make it short."

  "Surely you are not too busy to hear the good news that I have; news like this can't simply be--"

  "Rustem!" Holger barked.

  "Fine. Fine. I was just updating you on the fact that I shall have Phoenix in my possession any day now. I have plans--"

  "Wait. This is not a call telling me that the task that I have assigned you is complete? I am confused. How is this good news?"

  "I thought you would like to know how the job is coming along," said Rustem.

  "Then you thought wrong, didn't you?" Holger's eyes flicked to a flashing light on his holocom. He sucked his teeth in irritation. "The next call I want from you is one to inform me that the job is done. Until then, I do not want to be interrupted again. Now, there is a call coming through that I must take. Do not disappoint me, Rustem."

  The last image Holger got was of Rustem's lips pulled back in a fine line. A small vein pulsed along his temple. Good. Holger hoped that the mercenary was angry at being dismissed so quickly. The sooner he learnt his place, the better.

  Holger took a seat in one of the chairs that littered the room. Back straight, stomach pulled in, he brushed down the sleeves of his jacket before allowing the call to come through.

  Ajax's face appeared before him. The scar along his jaw shone as his jaw clenched. His hands were balled in front of him, one resting in the other. They were huge. Meant for choking necks and cracking skulls.

  "Ajax. To what do I owe this honour? I can't believe you would take time out of your training to talk to someone like me. Has father still got you running around doing little errands for him? Thought you would be sick of having a boot on your neck for so long. But, alas, if that's all you have ever known..."

  "Are you out of your mind, boy?"

  "Boy?" said Holger.

  "I asked you a question."

  "Not the last time that I checked, no, Ajax. I am quite sound in mind. I have never felt better. Now, can you tell me what this call is all about?"

  "You appear to be digging into affairs that do not concern you. I am told that you are looking for another planet so you can t
ry and acquire their resources--"

  "Have you, now! I didn't think what I did would reach such lofty ears as yours, Ajax. What I do with my time is my own business, no one--"

  "In that you are mistaken, boy. What you do affects the whole family. Your actions ripple far and wide. You think you can act as you want? Do as you please? You are wrong. Wrong and arrogant. I have told you that no moves can be made in trying to find more resources or invading another planet; the Council will not have it. We must tread lightly."

  "The Council would never know," said Holger.

  "If I found out, the Council already knows, or is at least looking into it. Cease all operations you have going in this endeavour. Clean your tracks as best you can. You are fortunate that I found this out before it reached your father's ears. His actions would not have been as kind," said Ajax.

  "But--"

  "No buts, Holger! Just get it done. Don't make me clean up another of your messes." With that, the image of Ajax disappeared.

  Holger sat slumped in his chair, as if the strings holding him up had been cut. His cheeks were red, his mouth dry, his hand was wet. Holger allowed a snarl to escape his lips.

  Who does he think he is? Telling me what to do. Instructing me? They will see! They will all see my greatness!

  Then their fear will come and I will bathe in it.

  39

  Phoenix stood with his hands clenched tightly behind his back. Everyone had gathered in the little room the crew had claimed as theirs. It stank of too many bodies, but beggars couldn't be choosers; it would have to do for the time being. Faces looked up at Phoenix in apprehension. Saoirse's lips were tight and fire filled her eyes. Freyan had a pleasant smile and a relaxed demeanour. Lastly Plowstow shifted his gaze back and forth like a caged rat, looking for a way out. Thinking that maybe this was a trap. That maybe this was where it all ended.

  Phoenix lifted his head and inhaled deeply. It didn't smell pretty, but pretty wasn't what he needed right now.

  "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that this will be easy. If you think it will be, erase that thought from your mind. I'm not going to tell you that if we fail then it doesn't matter. It does. It fucking does. It matters what happens out there, because they have one of our friends. But more importantly, they are threatening our friend's family. Our crewmate! We must do whatever we can to ensure that we do not fail--"

  "But the odds, Phoenix," said Plowstow.

  "Fuck the odds! None of us got where we are by listening to the odds. By allowing the odds to govern what we do. We got here because we spat in the odds' face and told him we ain't listening to his shit!"

  Phoenix could feel the blood rushing to his face. He paced back and forth, as the slowly building rage sharpened his mind. It had been cloudy, uncertain, hesitant, but now, it carved a path to where it knew he needed to be.

  "But we're up against Rustem and Duke!" said Plowstow.

  "Oh, don't forget Holger, as well," said Freyan cheerfully.

  "So? You going to let some short angry gangster push you around?"

  "I just--"

  "Think of it this way, Plowstow: whatever you find that is Duke's, after this is over, you get to keep. Any loot whatsoever," Phoenix said with a smile.

  The glint in Plowstow's eyes could outshine the brightest star on a cloudless night. He nodded his head up and down and licked his lips. Phoenix was surprised he didn't start rubbing his hands in glee.

  "You can keep as much of it as you can carry, my friend. You can take it all! Jewels, weapons, credits. Whatever you find, you may have."

  "This plan of yours–is it sufficient to complete the task at hand?" asked Saoirse.

  "I won't lie to you, Saoirse, I've had better ideas. But this is the best I can think of. We'll run over it till it makes you happy. Any suggestions you have are more than welcome. We won't move till everyone is happy," said Phoenix.

  She gave him a small nod but didn't say anything else.

  "I am sick of people taking what's ours! It's time to start taking it back!"

  40

  Duke sat behind his desk, eyes narrowed, as he looked across to Rustem. Rustem leaned back in his chair, eyes half closed, with his feet on Duke's desk and his hands laced behind his head.

  Duke bit the inside of his cheek to stop his rage from spilling out. Rustem and his men had made themselves at home in Duke's warehouse. Duke wanted to club each and every one of their brains out but he needed Rustem...for the moment.

  "So... What's so important that you saw it necessary to interrupt me in the middle of my work?" Duke asked.

  "Can a new friend not greet another without there being something they need from each other? Why can't we enjoy each other's company? Why can't we just be, without there being this uneasy feeling?" said Rustem.

  "Because you're a murderous worm that will kill anything just to benefit you," said Duke.

  "How dare you insult my good name? I will have you know that I only kill for business. I am an entrepreneur, and murder is the business I deal in. I have stopped civil wars that would have claimed millions of lives. I liberated billions, by killing dictators that enslaved and tortured their people. I have killed scientists that were creating weapons of mass destruction. But I will admit that in between that and this, I have killed children, women and innocent souls. My slate may not be clean, but it sparkles compared to yours."

  "I do not lie to myself so I can sleep at night," said Duke. "I am what I am. I accepted that role a long time ago. I was created from the sand and will return there when the time comes. Till then, I will take whatever I can, as others have taken from me!"

  "How petty. Like a child only wanting what's in front of his face, not having the foresight to see the bigger picture. It's a shame you shall die with those eyes of yours never fully opened," said Rustem.

  "Will you be the one to complete that task?" Duke asked, grabbing the edge of the desk, his hands turning white.

  "Me?" Rustem questioned, touching his chest. "Oh, no. Not I. I shall allow that honour to be had by someone else. Someone more deserving than I. Why would I wish to take your life when you have hardly offended me at all?"

  "Hardly?"

  "No, your fate does not lie in my hands. I can guarantee you that," Rustem said, swapping the placement of his feet on the desk, and in doing so letting large amounts of dirt drop from his boots.

  "But what if yours lies in mine?" Duke smiled.

  Rustem threw his head back and a laugh escaped his lips. "Many have tried to claim what is not theirs. Many have tried to add my name to their accomplishments. But, as you can see, I am still standing. I have been told that you own a few gambling houses. Maybe you would like to try your luck." Rustem took out a small knife and whirled it around his fingers till the blade became a blur.

  Duke watched the blade silently, left hand drumming along the desk, right hand playing the same tune on the handle of his pistol. I wonder who is faster... Argh! Another time maybe.

  "If you have nothing of importance to discuss, then..." Duke pointed towards the door.

  "How the pleasantries of small talk have been lost. Very well, I will get to the meat of the conversation. I have had word that Phoenix wants to meet, to broker some sort of deal. I will give you the location, as we are partners in this endeavour."

  "Partners, are we, now?" said Duke.

  "Yes, partners. To build some trust between us, I will allow L to be contained in this building alongside her brother. I think--"

  "Now, why would you do that? What's stopping me from killing you once she is in this building?"

  "Because you need my men. For this to go smoothly, you will need all the bodies you can get. Since I have made that number a bit...smaller, since my arrival, you can class it as a gift," said Rustem.

  "Well, I'm all sorts of lucky today, ain't I?"

  "One condition: I stay here. You meet Phoenix."

  Duke's eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair.

  There was a game
being played here, but he couldn't see where it ended. Rustem wanted Phoenix, so why not go get the Earth man himself? Why wait here? If Duke got to Phoenix first, he could use the Earth man as bargaining power over Rustem.

  Hell. Why stop there? It would be easier to cut out the middle-man completely and sell to Rustem's client. He would just have to find out who that was, first. But once he did, he could ask whatever price he wanted. The only thing that stood in his way was Rustem.

  Maybe the Bell Man did come bearing gifts.

  "If you insist," Duke said with a smile.

  Rustem got to his feet and gave Duke a small nod. He turned on his heels and gestured for one of his men to follow him.

  "Rustem. Is he one of yours?" Duke asked, pointing to the man.

  "Yes."

  "Good." Duke drew his pistol and fired a shot between the man's eyes. Smoke wafted from the hole the plasma bolt left, and the smell of burnt flesh crept into the room. The body collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  "As you're on your way out, see to that, will you, Rustem?"

  "He--"

  "I always have enough men. Just remember that," said Duke.

  41

  The setting sun looked like a fireball being swallowed by the sands, its dying light giving the sand before Phoenix's feet a golden tint. Phoenix squatted low and scooped up a handful, allowing the sand to run between his fingers.

  Golden. Beautiful. Warm.

  Phoenix blew the last remains from his hand and watched them dance on the breeze. It wouldn't take long for the breeze to feel like needles against the skin, as the rapidly changing temperature went from one extreme to the other.

  But he was hoping to be back in the city by then.

  The temperature wouldn't play much of a factor anyway, as he was covered from head to toe in combat gear. The jet-black material felt like Kevlar and fitted him like a second skin. It regulated his temperature and protected him against plasma bolts. Bolt guns and anything larger would still do damage.