Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid

by S M Briscoe

  Jarred turned his attention to Sierra as she walked past him a few steps and stopped, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Which one is yours?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

  Jarred pointed towards the Fancy Girl’s berth and watched as Sierra turned to look at the ship.

  “Not bad,” she commented, turning on her heel to march off towards it. “It’ll do.”

  “Not bad?” Kern asked incredulously, as he stepped past Jarred as well to walk around the ship for a closer inspection. “Do you know what this is?”

  “You mean, beyond our ride out of here?” Sierra retorted, dryly.

  “This is a Meridian Stargazer,” Kern continued, seeming to ignore the sarcastic remark. “They stopped making these over a century ago. It’s a classic.

  “How does she fly?” he asked Jarred, without a backwards glance, continuing on with his examination.

  “Well enough,” Jarred replied, simply. Normally, he would have jumped at the chance to converse with someone who had a real appreciation for an airworthy specimen like this one, but their current situation as it was, it hardly seemed appropriate.

  “I’ve never seen one in such good condition,” Kern went on, not seeming put off by the unenthusiastic response. “It must have set you back a few credits.”

  Jarred couldn’t help but smirk. “You’d be surprised.”

  “I’m not very often,” Sierra remarked, with a raised eyebrow.

  She was still weary of him. He didn’t really blame her. He had no intention of trusting her either. He viewed her distrust of him as a good thing. As suspicious of him as she was, she was even more so of everyone else around them. It didn’t hurt having another pair of trained eyes watching for trouble. So, she could continue being as weary of him as she liked. Once they got clear of this mess, he would find a safe, quiet place where they could part ways. He assumed she was just as eager as he was to do so. From there, he wasn’t quite sure of what he was going to do. There was still Elora . . . and Ethan. The solution to their problem wouldn’t be quite as simple.

  “It’s a bit flashy for a bounty hunter’s transport.,” Sierra went on, continuing to stare him down. “I wasn’t aware the Guild’s contracts were paying out so well.”

  “Well, now you’re aware,” Jarred responded, quickly, meeting her scrutinizing gaze. He knew where her questioning was leading and he didn’t have the time or patience for an interrogation now. “We could hang around all day and discuss just how lucrative an industry it is, if you’d like, or maybe we should just be moving along before another Sect raiding party kicks down the door looking for your little friend.”

  It took mentioning her for Jarred to even remember that Orna was still with them, standing quietly as always at the rear of the group, observing their exchange.

  Sierra glanced momentarily over at Orna, then returned her suspicious gaze back to Jarred. She continued to eye him for a moment before finally nodding her agreement. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Stellar!” Jarred exclaimed, sarcastically. “I’m ready right now.” Retrieving the ship remote from his pocket, he triggered the Fancy Girl’s boarding ramp and watched it drop into position on the deck. “If you’d all care to board, we can get this pleasure cruise under way.”

  The words had barely left Jarred’s lips when an alert tone sounded over the bay’s comm system. Almost immediately after, the numerous civilian access doors around the bay began sliding shut one after another, each sounding a metallic thud as they were locked in place. Only the bay’s sudden silence, as all work stopped on the floor, allowed Jarred to hear the electronic drone of the dock’s entry port shield powering up, and he turned to see the faint crimson glow of the energy field shimmering to life in the open portal that was their only means of escape.

  They were effectively sealed in.

  A moment later, the comm came to life again, this time with an amplified, very calm and formal sounding, female voice.

  “Attention, civilian aviators,” the operator began. “This is a citywide bulletin wave for all Trycon docking ports. Effective immediately, all privately docked vessels are hereby grounded at current points of harbor, pending further notification by Trycon airspace authorities. We thank you for your cooperation.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound good,” Kern commented, looking around the bay. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

  Kern caught both Jarred and Sierra’s looks of doubt and shrugged at them in response. “What? It’s possible.”

  As the alert message began to repeat itself, this time in another of Trycon’s many multicultural dialects, Kern called out to a small dock mech rolling in his direction. “Hey, mech!” The mech came to abrupt halt as he stepped into its path. “Where can I find the docking supervisor?”

  The mech’s head rotated one hundred and eighty degrees, as it appeared to slowly scan the dock, eventually returning to Kern to squawk what Jarred took to be a negative response.

  Kern stood up straight with his hands on his hips and scanned the dock for himself. “Alright, I’ll take that as you don’t know. Well, are there any organics on duty today I might be able to talk to?”

  Jarred’s eyes widened in realization as he finally discovered what had been troubling him about the bay and he silently cursed himself for not having caught it sooner. A quick glance at Sierra told him she had also just come to the same conclusion, her lips curling down into a scowl.

  The mech responded to Kern’s question with a long string of unintelligible binary dialect before finally turning to go off on its way, leaving Kern to turn back to face Sierra. “And you wonder why I hate mechs.” He seemed about to go on, but stopped himself as he noticed both of their reactions. “What?”

  “We’re in trouble,” Sierra answered him, with a look that mirrored Jarred’s own concern and frustration.

  “Yeah,” Kern said, cringing slightly. “Of course we are.”

  Jarred glanced back at Elora. She looked unfocused and withdrawn, her gaze seeming transfixed on nothing in particular. He doubted she had even heard the broadband alert, still lost in her feelings of grief and guilt. He needed to get her as far from this place as he could, and he needed to be quick about it.

  “Kern,” Jarred called out as he turned around, receiving the man’s attention. He tossed him the ship remote. “Go aboard and warm up the engines. We need to keep a low profile with the grounding, so run through the low power start up sequence, then keep her on standby. Once the barrier is down we’ll need to make a quick dust off.”

  “Hey, I think I know my way around a flight deck,” Kern answered, sounding only slightly offended. He then glanced over at Sierra for confirmation and received an affirming nod.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, turning back to Jarred.

  “To get that shield down,” he replied, pointing towards the port barrier.

  She took a step closer to him. “I’ll go with you.”

  Jarred nodded in agreement and then turned to face Elora, who was now actually looking back at him.

  “Go with Kern,” he directed her, trying to be as gentle with his words as he could be. He didn’t want it to sound like he was ordering her to get onboard and out of his way, but it was the safest place for her right now and she wouldn’t be able to help him in her current emotional state.

  “Both of you.” This was directed to Orna, who stood just behind Elora, having been taking the situation in with her usual lack of concern.

  Orna stepped up next to Elora, resting a hand gently on her arm. “Come,” she spoke softly. “There is nothing more we can do here. You can be of best use to him now by staying safe from harm.”

  Jarred waited for Elora to put up an argument which, to his surprise, never came. She instead gave Orna a resigned nod, seeming swayed by her melodically soothing words and, with only a brief glance back in his direction, she turned to follow Kern towards the ship’s ramp. He had expected her to put up a bit more of a figh
t and wondered who Orna had been referring to when she spoke. Himself . . . or Ethan. Most of what Orna ever said seemed to have multiple meanings, so in the end, he guessed it didn’t really matter what she meant, only what meaning the listener took from her. Judging by the result, he assumed Elora had heard the latter.

  “Keep your comm open,” Sierra called after Kern.

  “Copy that,” Kern responded back, over her active comm unit as he marched up the ship’s ramp, Elora and Orna close behind him. “Try not to shoot anyone.”

  Jarred managed to pull his eyes from Elora only once she had disappeared up the boarding ramp, turning from the ship to look up at the dock’s upper level control room. Sierra’s gaze was also locked steadily on their target as she raised the comm to her lips.

  “No promises.”

  * * *

  Kern stepped onto the flight deck of, what he considered to be, one of the finest examples of space worthy craftsmanship in the past century and slowly found his way to the forward control seat, taking in every console and display with a sense of child-like awe. Holding his breath, he eased himself down into the pilot seat and let his hands pass gently over its controls. Small displays on both sides of his arms began flashing to life at his touch, revealing the ship’s current dormant status.

  “Hello, old girl,” he whispered, softly to the ship. “How are we feeling today? I was thinking I might take you for a little ride. What do you think?” He heard the gentle hum of the engines coming online as he began their silent warm up sequence and grinned to himself. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  He sat back in the seat for a moment, content to simply breath in the ship around him, before finally sitting back up to continue initializing the rest of the start-up systems, his grin growing broader.

  There was no doubt about it. He was in love.

  * * *

  Jarred stood in front of the lift tube to the dock’s upper control room and gazed up at the tinted view panel that stretched across the length of it. The lift was the only access point to the control center and the only way to open the barrier doors was up there. Unfortunately, access to the tube was restricted to dock personnel.

  “It’s key card activated,” he informed Sierra. “I’ll have to run a bypass.”

  “A bypass?” Sierra asked, skeptically.

  “Well, normally I’d just blast a hole through it, but under the circumstances, I think the situation calls for a little more discretion, so why don’t you just keep an eye out for security.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sierra responded, stepping in front of Jarred. “After seeing you in action, I think it’s fairly safe to say that the word discreet is lost to you. You can watch the dock.”

  “Alright, suit yourself.” Jarred took a step back, shaking his head while suppressing a grin. There was no reason to be insulted by the remark. After all, he didn’t really specialize in subtle or discreet. Instead, he turned around to face the dock and placed himself in front of her so she could work while he kept watch.

  The dock itself seemed calm enough, considering the lockdown, and aside from the lack of organic personnel, there were no signs of trouble. But if the past few days’ events were any indication, he had no doubt that it would find them soon enough.

  Over his shoulder, Sierra was connecting a scan card to some kind of small input device, sliding the card through the lift tube console’s scanner.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Running a bypass,” Sierra answered, not bothering to look up as she began inputting commands into the device attached to the card.

  Jarred rolled his eyes and was about to respond when he heard an inquiring set of beeps come from behind him. Turning, he had to look down to see the small dock mech, pointing its view cam back up at him, curiously. Giving it a light kick to move it on its way, and receiving an offended squawk in return, he turned back to Sierra.

  “Thank you,” he began again and pointed to the device she was holding. “But what is that?”

  Sierra breathed out a sigh, as if annoyed. “It’s a modified card writer. Basically, it hacks into the console and retrieves the access data, then overwrites it onto the card.”

  “That’s handy,” Jarred commented. He hadn’t seen any devices like it on the mercenary black market, where most new tech was field tested before being submitted for public or military contracts. “Where did you pick that up?”

  “I have my sources,” she answered, playfully, before handing the scan card to him. “Done.”

  Jarred turned the card over in his hand, impressed. “No doubt. What kind of sources?”

  Sierra smiled. “You can’t expect a girl to give away all her secrets.”

  Jarred chuckled, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I guess not.” He noticed the sudden change in Sierra’s expression as her eyes moved to something behind him and he turned to find himself staring into the broad alloy chest plate of a dock security mech. Taking a step back, he looked up towards the mech’s face, humanoid in design, for better organic interaction.

  “Human bystanders,” the security mech began, in a pleasant, masculine voice. “This lift tube is restricted to dock personnel only. It is required that you vacate the immediate vicinity.”

  Jarred was about to reply to the mech when he noticed Sierra’s hand raise up to her ear, receiving some kind of message from Kern, he assumed. The sudden hardening of her features as she spoke inaudibly under her breath was a sure sign the news wasn’t good.

  “If you require directional assistance,” the mech continued, “the visitor map interface can be accessed at this dock’s central information kiosk.”

  “That’s alright,” Sierra interrupted, letting her hand drop back to her side. “We were just leaving.”

  * * *

  Kern sat up in his seat as the Fancy Girl’s computer interface announced, with a brief tone and confirmation message across the control console display, engine readiness for quick fire up.

  He shook his head as he read the transponder name again on the communications display panel. A fine craft such as this required a name that signified its own greatness. It seemed almost sacrilegious to give a ship so powerful, sleek and elegant a title that mocked those very attributes. He felt it was embarrassing for the ship, as absurd as that may have sounded, to think that Fancy Girl would be the name that preceded it wherever it went. The only explanation was that Jarred, being a bounty hunter, randomly changed his transponder codes as a precaution. At least, he hoped that was the only explanation.

  Making a mental note to question Jarred about it later, Kern returned his attention to the matter of prepping the ship for launch. With the engines in silent run mode, they would appear idle to any passer bye and register nominal power readouts when scrutinized by scanners. From what Kern could see, most of the onboard systems had power cloaking technology hardwired into them. That was, what systems he had been able to bring online. The majority had command locks in place, and every system that denied him access only served to increase his frustration. He wanted to see just what this ship was capable of.

  The desire vanished from his thoughts as he noticed a squad of armed Trycon security officers marching on to the dock through the front viewport. His stomach suddenly tightened when his eyes came to rest on the larger being at the center of the group. Gnolith tended to stand out in most crowds.

  Kern was already beginning to speak as he switched on his comm. “Sierra, we’ve got company.”

  “What sort of company?” Sierra queried back, her voice a near whisper.

  Kern kept his eyes on the security group. “The unfriendly kind. Looks like our Sect neighbors have hooked up with the local authorities. I count about a dozen TrySecs escorting one fur ball.”

  Sierra was silent a moment. “Then they can’t know we’re here, otherwise they would have sent everyone. They must be performing sweeps of all the ports.”

  “Wonderful, but that doesn’t really help us. As soon as they figure out we
are here they’ll call and invite the rest of their friends over.”

  “Then we’ll just have to leave before they can make that call.”

  “How is that coming, anyway?” Kern asked, impatiently.

  “We’re working on it.”

  Through the viewport, Kern could see the Gnolith barking orders at the security team as half of them began to fan out in pairs across the bay with what looked like some kind of scanning equipment.

  “Well, work faster. They’re breaking out the sensor gear, so I’m guessing they’re not planning on waiting for us to turn ourselves in. It looks like we might get boarded.”

  “That’s not an option,” Sierra came back. Her tone left no doubt as to what he was to do if he got backed into a corner. “Secure the package and hold tight. We won’t be long.”

  “That’s comforting.” Kern watched through the viewport as the Gnolith commander crossed the bay with the remaining half of the security team. “Heads up. You’ve got one fur ball and friends headed your way.”

  “I see them,” Sierra came back. “It looks like the rest are yours.”

  “Great,” Kern replied, sarcastically. “And if they come knocking?”

  “Stall them. Cut comm transmissions. We’ll see you soon.” With that, Sierra’s comm went silent.

  Stall them.

  Kern took one last look out the viewport before getting up from his seat to head for the flight deck hatch. He found both Orna and Elora sitting quietly at a table in the main hold.

  The woman, probably not much younger than himself, seemed eerily detached, as she had been since the carrier ride back to the docking bay, and didn’t seem to take notice of his approach. He could imagine the anguish she must have been feeling at having to leave a loved one behind. He had lost a lot of friends over the years . . . but a sibling, and one so young. The pain would have to be overwhelming.