Stranded: (Space Outlaw 2)

by Dominique Mondesir

  Phoenix stood stock still as Rustem slowly got to his feet. They stared at each other, neither saying a word. Phoenix couldn't hear anything even if he wanted to; a faint buzzing dominated his thoughts, drowning everything out. His mind was blank. His thoughts were nonexistent.

  He could see Rustem's lips moving, but the words didn't reach his ears. It didn't really matter what was said now, anyway. None of it did. Whatever Plowstow had or hadn't done, he still didn't deserve to be treated the way Rustem treated him. He was still part of Phoenix's crew. He was still Phoenix's responsibility.

  Phoenix walked towards Rustem without lowering his gaze. He didn't hesitate.

  Rustem saw him coming and folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head. It was the action of a teacher who had taught a lesson repeatedly but the student still failed to get it.

  Rustem's arms were still folded when Phoenix punched him in the face. The look of smugness was overridden by shock as Phoenix continued to snap the mercenary's head back with each blow he struck.

  Punch, kick, head-butt, punch, kick, elbow.

  Phoenix aimed at and struck any body part that he could. His blows were executed with a viciousness that he had thought long forgotten. But here it was, resurfacing like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

  Phoenix's breath was heavy and his hands bloody. He looked towards his swaying opponent.

  "Well, well, Mr Jones. You are full of surprises today, aren't you? It seems those nanobots have taken to you more than I thought they had. I would love to know who your manufacturer was, just so I can--"

  A shot rang out loud and clear, silencing Rustem. The man looked down at his chest as a wet patch began to spread across it. He patted it with his palm, and it came away red.

  "Oh," Rustem said, turning his head to look behind him.

  Duke stood with a bolt pistol raised, its smoking barrel pointing into the night sky. His arm was steady. His gaze swept over Rustem with contempt.

  "You think you can fucking double-cross me? You think I wouldn't notice?" Duke said.

  "I do not know what you are talking about," Rustem said.

  "We had a fucking deal! I should have known that you would have taken the girl! I should have known," Duke said.

  "The girl should still be--" Rustem's head snapped to Phoenix, who had a knowing smile plastered on his face. "You–" was all he got out before Phoenix punched him in the throat, dropping him to the ground.

  Phoenix stepped over Rustem as if he were trash. He let his foot hang in the air above Rustem for a split second before bringing his boot crushing down on the mercenary's head. Giving his boot a final twist, he continued on his way towards Duke.

  "Stay right where you are," Duke said.

  "Duke, it's over. You've lost. Now, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way.'

  "The easy way or...are you stupid? Do you not see who is holding the weapon? This will only end one way–with your crew's surrender. When that happens, I may allow you off this planet, if I feel like it."

  "Duke, your men are dead–or soon will be. I know for a fact that you don't have L or Kai. The ship you wanted so much will soon be mine. So I will say again, you have lost. Let's stop this needless violence while we can," Phoenix said, holding his hands held out.

  Duke threw back his head and let out a snort of laughter. He shook his head and looked at Phoenix with eyes that made him take a step back.

  "Do you think I got to where I am by making peace? When will you fools get it? There is only one thing people respect in this universe, and that's violence. Violence and power. You can't have one without the other. So I will say it again: tell your crew to surrender."

  Phoenix felt a presence by his side. Saoirse stood with her lips pressed into a fine lie.

  "What do you think about his offer, Saoirse?" Phoenix asked.

  Saoirse's hands moved in a blur as she flicked two knives towards Duke. One knocked the pistol from his hand, while the other embedded itself into his chest. Duke looked down at the offending knife and seemed lost for words.

  "That's your answer, I guess."

  58

  Duke collapsed to the ground and lay there moaning, clutching the knife embedded in his chest.

  "I couldn't have given a better answer myself," Phoenix. He walked over to Plowstow and knelt beside the Orcian, laying a hand on his forehead. "You still with us, big guy?"

  Plowstow looked up at Phoenix and gave a slight nod. He still held his hands over his stomach wound, trying to hold back the flow of blood. Phoenix could see that there had been a lot of blood loss, and if Plowstow wasn't treated soon he would die.

  "It's okay, Plowstow. Freyan will get you up and running in no time. Just hang in there for me, okay?"

  "Phoenix, I don't think--"

  "Don't give me that shit! Look, I promise you that you will make it, okay? Look at me. Look at me! You will make it. I know things haven't been the best between you and the crew, but that will change. I will make sure of it. I will always remember what you did for me here today. You saved my life. You gave me another chance.

  "So when I say that you will make it, you will make it. Now, what are you going to do?"

  "Make it," Plowstow whispered.

  Phoenix gave him a small nod before getting back up to his feet. He was battered and bruised. His bolt wound was a bloody mess. He didn't feel he could move his face properly, and his body wasn't responding to the simplest commands. He moved unsteadily towards Saoirse and laid a hand on her shoulder.

  She had the odd mark of battle here and there, but apart from that she appeared unharmed.

  "It's almost over," said Phoenix.

  "Almost?"

  "Yes, almost. We still have to take care of Holger, but that is for another day." Phoenix moved past her and made his way towards the warehouse doors. His mind was foggy; thoughts chased themselves around his brain. He was tired–couldn't his brain see that? Couldn't it feel his body's energy draining away with each step he took?

  His right hand was on the latch of the warehouse door before he knew it.

  How did...I get here?

  Phoenix shook his head and went to open the door. Something pulled at his leg. He looked down and saw Duke grimacing up at him, one hand holding onto Phoenix's leg.

  "Duke, it's over, man! Either die in peace or crawl away with whatever dignity you have left."

  Duke coughed and heaved, trying to get the words out. "I told you, this isn't over. It will never be over. I have sacrificed too much to get what I have. I have given too much to just allow someone like you to have it."

  "You know, Duke, people like you never get it. They never know when they have lost. They never see why they lost. Should I tell you why you're lying on the ground and I'm not?"

  "Oh...please...do," Duke between fits of coughing.

  "It's because you never trust anyone. You never allowed anyone in. And if you did, you've already pushed them away. I used to be like you–never trusting, always thinking about myself. Always seeing what people could do for me and never the other way round.

  "But luckily I saw the error of my ways. Not all of them, but most. That is why I am standing over you while you're lying there on the ground."

  Duke laughed till his chest shook. He shook his head and looked at Phoenix with a bemused smile. "Phoenix...I told you this wasn't over. But now it is." Duke lifted his other hand up in the air. The device he held blinked with a red flashing light. Squeezing a button on the side sent a click through the air that silenced everything around Phoenix.

  Shit!

  The explosion that ripped through the warehouse engulfed it in flames.

  Phoenix was thrown from the warehouse, his body turning and spinning. His senses couldn't tell which way was up. He landed on the ground and continued to roll, the force of the blast keeping his momentum going. Over and over he went until he came to a stop in the dirt.

  His vision was blurry, his view peppered with dark shadows he couldn't see past. He
couldn't hear anything but a faint ringing in his ears. He tried to get up but the effort proved futile.

  I'm dying.

  He knew it for certain, as he knew what it felt like to sleep, to laugh, to love. Phoenix lay on the ground and brought his right hand up to his face, but all he saw was a bloody mess. Well, at least I won't need that where I'm going. He let his hand drop back down. He wanted to close his eyes but he saw an image above him that forced them to remain open.

  Saoirse moved towards him, her hair a mess, blood leaking from multiple wounds. She swayed in front of him before collapsing to her knees. She was saying something, but the words never reached his ears. Her face was a mask of pain–the kind reserved for a loss worse than the physical. He knew that face well. It was a mask he'd worn when he found out about his parents. But why was she wearing it now?

  Oh...

  Phoenix focused on her lips; he could see what they formed. He could see who they mourned for. L.

  L had said that her ship was located behind Duke's warehouse. That he wanted it for himself. If Duke had set explosives in his warehouse, then it was safe to assume that he had also detonated some in the junkyard. The same ship junkyard that housed L's ship. Phoenix let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

  He just wanted to rest. Just for a moment. Now it seemed that he would get that chance. Feeling a hand on his face he opened his eyes and saw the vague outline of Saoirse. Tears streaked her beautiful face as she cried her heart out. Phoenix couldn't stand to watch. It just highlighted his failure even more.

  Bright lights hovered over Saoirse's head, bathing everything in light. He couldn't see her features anymore, just a silhouette where she knelt over him. Phoenix felt her shake him. She was trying to tell him something, trying to convey some sort of message.

  "I can't hear you, Saoirse. I can't..."

  Phoenix closed his eyes, letting the white light wash over him as one thought dominated his mind: It's true what they say about death.

  59

  Phoenix's eyes fluttered open. The image before him wasn't in focus; it was as though he were looking through a greasy window. He shook his head and felt something soft beneath it. He closed and reopened his eyes, getting a clearer image. White metal ceiling greeted him. He tried to bring his hand to his face but something restricted him from doing so.

  "I think he's starting to wake," L said, her face appearing above him with a wide grin. "Phoenix!"

  "L, please, not so loud. He's in a fragile state."

  "Hello, sleepyhead. We thought we had lost you. It was a close thing. How are you feeling?" L asked in a whisper.

  "Hmur," Phoenix replied.

  "That good, huh?" L said with a smile.

  "How...I don't...?" said Phoenix.

  "Aww, I know, I know. You're a bit confused, but Freyan says that you can't have too much mental stimulation. So I'll explain later," L said, giving him a kiss on the forehead and turning to go.

  "Please," Phoenix croaked.

  L let out a small sigh and passed her hands through her hair, which was the colour of a setting sun. "Freyan, look, I can't leave him like this. Bit of conversation won't hurt."

  "If you must, but keep it brief," said Freyan.

  L walked closer to Phoenix and laid a hand on his shoulder. "We found the ship, no problem. After Freyan broke us out, it was only a matter of making sure she ran okay again. But while we were doing that, the bombs that Duke set about the junkyard and warehouse went off. He really thought something like that could destroy this ship. He was dumber than I thought, or he underestimated the value of what he had.

  "To do any damage, he needed five times the amount of explosives he used. We all live and learn, eh? Well, maybe not him," said L with a laugh.

  "You okay?" Phoenix asked.

  "Phoenix, I'm more than okay. Watch me dance," L said, doing a jig on the spot.

  "L!" said Freyan.

  "Okay, okay. If it weren't for you, Phoenix, I wouldn't have ever found my brother. I wouldn't have gotten my ship back. I would have been trapped in Dredar till the sands of my life ran out. So, for that, I thank you, and know that I will always be in your debt." L kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

  Freyan took her place, holding a syringe up to the light.

  "How is everyone else? Plowstow? Saoirse?"

  "Saoirse only had minor injuries. Plowstow has more lives than I can count. His little stomach wound should be healed in a day or two--"

  "You should cut him some slack. He did save my life."

  "Hmm."

  "Try and be nice to him," Phoenix sighed.

  "Being nice is a way for dumb people to hedge their bets," said Freyan, still focusing on the syringe.

  "I'm glad everyone come out of this okay," said Phoenix.

  "Everyone else did... You, on the other hand..." said Freyan.

  "How bad is it, Doc?"

  "Honestly?"

  Phoenix looked up and gave Freyan a tiny nod.

  "Both eardrums were completely blown. I have used a temporary fix but you will need surgery. One hand suffered significant skin, muscle and nerve damage. If I'm honest, it's pretty useless and will need to be replaced. You will need facial reconstruction–multiple fractures. Both your retinas are damaged. Most of your skin suffered burns from the blast.

  "If it weren't for the combat gear, you would be dead right now."

  Silence filled the room as Phoenix took the information in.

  "So what you're saying is that I'm fucked up?" said Phoenix.

  "Pretty much," said Freyan with a small laugh.

  "What happens now?"

  "Now, I put you under and begin the process of surgery. I need to fill your system with nanobots. You were lucky that you had my basic ones inside you. They tried to heal you as best they could."

  "Freyan. The nanobots... I did things I never could before. Time slowed down, I became stronger, my reflexes doubled. What's happening to me?"

  "I told you back at Dredar, Phoenix. My little nanobots have the power to make you a super soldier. Whenever intense emotion is involved, the effects are amplified, and those were just basic ones. When I finish with you, you will be beautiful beyond measure. You will laugh at what you thought was strength, your past reflexes will look like a child's against what you will soon have.

  "You will be my most beautiful creation! Now, sleep, my friend. You shall awake a god!"

  60

  Plowstow walked with his head down and his shoulders hunched forward. One hand tapped the handle of his pistol. The hood pulled over his head cast a shadow over his face, which was set in a deep scowl. He looked over his shoulder for the hundredth time, side-stepping into the entrance of an abandoned building. He waited and allowed his heart rate to come back down.

  Did she see me?

  He counted to twenty and peered round the corner. Coast clear. He stepped out of his hiding place and continued on his journey. He had to get rid of her before she left the planet. Once out in orbit she could go anywhere, be anywhere, and that was something Plowstow couldn't risk. It would always be hanging over his head. He would never know when it would come crashing down. It would be a situation that he just wasn't in control of, one that could unravel the trust that he had gained.

  The orange bob moving among the few heads in the alley took a right. Plowstow followed.

  His hand encircled the handle of his pistol in a death grip. Plowstow moved faster now his target was in sight. The smell of the alley assaulted his senses. The breath billowing out before him in the night air betrayed the heat of his body; sweat poured down his back.

  Plowstow took another corner and had to duck as a kick flew towards his face. He rolled out of the way and brought his pistol to bear, but that too was kicked out of his hand.

  "Plowstow, Plowstow, Plowstow. I could hear you coming a mile away, big boy. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Odessa asked.

  "You double-crossed me," Plowstow snarled.

  "Of course I did, stupid. What d
id you expect? You have done the same to others countless times. It's the business we are in. It was never personal–just business. To be honest, I thought you would have bailed at the first sign of trouble. More fool you for sticking around."

  "Things are different--"

  "Different?" said Odessa with a laugh. "How so?"

  "They just are... I think I've found somewhere...that I would like to stick around for a while. Ain't nothing set in stone, but who knows?," said Plowstow with a shrug.

  "I don't see what that has to do with me," said Odessa, picking lint off her sleeve.

  "Really?"

  "Look, Plowstow, let's call it quits. Let's just say that I may call on you, from time to time, to ask you for a favour. If you don't do said favour, who knows what might slip out of these pretty lips of mine? I mean, uttering the wrong thing at a local inn or spaceport, and who knows who it can get back to? I mean, gossip travels fast, big boy–more so among outlaws like us."

  Plowstow shook his head and began to walk towards Odessa. His face was blank, his eyes were focused.

  "Now, now, big boy. Let's not do anything that we'll regret," Odessa said, her hands held high in front of her.

  "I'm sorry, Odessa, but I want a clean start. With you around, I can't do that," Plowstow whispered.

  Odessa's eyes grew wide. Her face paled, and her chest rose and fell. She reached behind her and pulled out a long blade, which shone in the dark.

  "That won't stop me," said Plowstow.

  "Well, I had to pack in a hurry, seeing how things turned out. Tell you what, let's just call it quits. No favours. It will be like me and you never even met."

  Plowstow shook his head and continued forward. Odessa lunged at him with the knife, but Plowstow jumped out of the way and kicked the blade out of her hand. As the knife clattered into the darkness, Odessa's gaze followed its path longingly. While her attention was elsewhere, Plowstow threw a punch to her stomach that doubled her over.

  She gasped for breath as she tried to make her escape past him, but Plowstow caught her round the throat with both hands. Odessa clawed and scratched at Plowstow, her nails digging into his skin and leaving bloody streaks. Ignoring the pain, Plowstow squeezed harder.