Orion Rises

by G J Ogden

  Hudson hadn’t considered this, but now that Trent had mentioned it, he realized he was right. The next portal they uncovered would result in a much more hotly contested gold rush. Worse still, the more mercenary hunters might even make a play for the Orion, or Liberty’s scendar device. “Thanks for the heads-up, and the advice,” he said, before glancing over at Liberty. “We’ll make sure we and the ship are well prepared for such eventualities.”

  “Good, then for now I shall leave you,” said Trent. “Though I suspect it will not be the last time I hear your names.”

  Trent turned to leave, but then Hudson remembered about the alien shuttle. With Griff’s appearance, he’d forgotten about it, but now the frightening memory crept back into his mind. Trent had seemed trustworthy, and Hudson felt that he could confide in him, without fear of blame or repercussions.

  “Commodore, wait,” said Hudson, causing the senior officer to halt and twist his head back. “There’s something else we need to mention.” Then Hudson glanced at the CET captain, who had not been introduced. The younger man presented the appearance of stuck-up snootiness that Hudson was used to seeing from the CET. “Alone, if possible,” Hudson added.

  Trent’s thick eyebrows lifted up, but then he turned to the unnamed captain and dismissed him. The officer shot a snooty, affronted look at Hudson and then marched away.

  Hudson waited until the captain was well out of earshot and then closed the distance between him and Trent, with Liberty alongside.

  “I’m all ears, Captains Powell and Devan,” said Trent, though his expression had hardened.

  Hudson took a deep breath and then met Liberty’s eyes, who nodded her approval. “That giant wreck over there isn’t the only alien ship on this planet,” Hudson said to Trent.

  Trent’s eyebrows raised even higher. “So, where is the other one?”

  Hudson looked at Liberty again, and this time she took the lead, “Well, here’s the thing, commodore; it sort of took off and flew away…”

  CHAPTER 28

  Commodore Trent had listened attentively while Hudson and Liberty detailed their discovery of the alien shuttle, and its subsequent disappearance. He had interrupted only when necessary, to clarify key points or ask pertinent questions. And he’d displayed no emotion, other than sometimes being unable to contain his amazement. But he’d also been unable to fully mask his skepticism. Hudson didn’t blame him for having some misgivings about their story. After all, in dozens of discovered worlds and wrecks, no-one had ever encountered an alien shuttle before, let alone an active ship. If a stranger had told Hudson the same story, he doubted he would have believed it either.

  They had parted ways with Commodore Trent’s assurance that he would investigate and take the matter seriously. This alone had both reassured Hudson, and made him feel a little less guilty about his part in the alien shuttle’s reactivation. The alien vessel’s intentions were still unknown – in fact, since it had sped out of sight, nothing more had been seen of it at all. But on top of the mysterious, moving red chevron on Liberty’s scendar device, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was bad news. Or, at the very least, that it was the harbinger of something dark, looming just over the horizon.

  “We have just over three minutes until the deceleration burn is complete,” said Hudson, poking his head into the Orion’s living space. Liberty was just finishing cataloging their score from the wreck. She’d also separated the relics into the items they would auction on Brahms Three, and the ones they’d store at the Landing Strip with Ma. Liberty acknowledged Hudson’s statement, stowed the last of the items into the storage compartments, and followed him back along the connecting corridor to the cockpit.

  “How’s it looking out there?” asked Liberty, as she slid into the second seat and fastened her harness.

  “Take a look for yourself,” replied Hudson, indicating to the navigation scanner.

  Liberty checked her own panel and saw twenty ships, seemingly looming in orbit above Brahms Three. “I’m guessing a planet like this doesn’t normally have so much traffic parked above it?” she asked, though she already suspected she knew the answer.

  “I’ve never seen Brahms Three’s orbit this busy,” replied Hudson. “There aren’t any orbital stations or facilities, even at the portal. So, you’re either arriving or getting the hell away from here as fast as possible. There’s no reason to sit in orbit unless you’re waiting for something.”

  “Or someone…” added Liberty. “Once we sell off some of this score, we’re going to need to make some serious upgrades to the Orion.”

  Hudson nodded. “We have to make it down to the scavenger town first.”

  Liberty looked over at him and smiled, “Best get ready to do some fancy flying, and earn your crust then, Hudson Powell.”

  Hudson threw up a casual salute, “Yes, sir, co-captain sir!”

  Liberty laughed, but then one of her panels bleeped. She checked it, frowning. “There it is again,” she said, shaking her head.

  “The ghost?” asked Hudson. During their journey back from the planet that Commodore Trent had since named ‘Zimmer One’, Liberty had periodically picked up what seemed to be a ship on their tail. It would appear a few hundred meters directly astern, but then disappear again. Hudson had even spun the ship around in an attempt to visually scan behind them. However, on every occasion, there was no sign of anything other than black space. The only confirmed contacts had been ships travelling in the opposite direction, to the newly discovered portal world. These had been a combination of CET and RGF colonization assets, plus a raft of impatient hunters, looking to make their fortunes on the new wreck. These eager ships would later camp out beyond the checkpoint perimeter. They’d then wait for the RGF to give the green light for relic hunting operations to begin. Hudson had explained to a fascinated Liberty that this was actually how the first scavenger towns had formed. They’d built up around the tent cities that had sprung up to accommodate the waiting relic hunter crews.

  “Yes, it’s back again,” said Liberty, punching commands into her console. “I’m going to have to strip the control systems for the aft navigational sensors when we get on the ground. It has to be a glitch.”

  Hudson grabbed the controls and placed his hand on the thruster lever. “We have a blockade to run first…” he said, staring out of the cockpit glass.

  Liberty looked up to see a small fleet of ships directly in their flight path to the planet. They were all private vessels, a mix of small, two-person patrols and escorts, up to larger, mid-sized light freighters. “Relic hunters…” said Liberty, exhaling the words as an exasperated sigh.

  “Commodore Trent was right; we have suddenly become very popular,” said Hudson. The registry IDs of each of the ships started to populate on his panel. Hudson watched anxiously, hoping the one ID he didn’t want to see was missing. He then closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. FS-31 Patrol Craft, Hawk-1333F was one of the twenty ships waiting for them. He doubted that Cutler would try to gun them down in front of nineteen witnesses. Still, if things did get heated, there was always a chance he could take a pot shot and get away with it.

  “We’re getting a flood of messages from the mini armada out there,” said Liberty. “They’re all variations on a theme. The theme being a demand that we share the method of detecting new portals.” Then she rocked her head back and let out a growl that told Hudson she’d just seen what he had seen. “I take it you know that your best friend, Cutler Wendell, is out there too?”

  “Unfortunately, I am aware,” replied Hudson, though Cutler wasn’t at the front of his mind at that moment. He was trying to work out how to break through the blockade and make re-entry over the scavenger town, without getting shot up in the process. The communications panel bleeped, but Hudson ignored it.

  “Guess who’s calling?” said Liberty.

  “Can you take a message? I’m a little busy right now,” replied Hudson. He had been joking, but to his surprise, Liberty actua
lly opened a channel.

  “M7070-Orion, how may I direct your call?” said Liberty, adopting the voice of a nineteen-fifties switchboard operator.

  “Tell me how you found that portal, and I’ll stop hunting you,” said the voice of Cutler Wendell, crackling over the channel. “This is a one-time offer. I suggest you take it.”

  “I’m sorry, I think you must have mis-dialed,” Liberty continued, still in character, “because nobody at this number gives a shit what you want.”

  “Just put Powell on, girl,” growled Cutler, “I don’t have time for your games.”

  Hudson slid his headset over his ears and opened the mic. “She’s trying to give you a hint, asshole. Which, in case you hadn’t understood it the first time, was to piss off.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” said Cutler, intoning each word with the enthusiasm of an undertaker conducting a funeral service. Then the channel abruptly clicked off.

  “I really hate that guy,” said Liberty. “Once we upgrade the Orion with weapons, we and Cutler Wendell are going to have a very different kind of conversation.”

  “Hold that thought until we get on the ground,” said Hudson. “And hold onto your seat too; this might get a little sporty…”

  Hudson aimed the nose of the Orion at a gap in the blockade and them rammed the throttle forward. The ship surged ahead with a ferocious burst of acceleration which pressed them back into their seats. Had he got the angle even fractionally wrong, he would have accelerated the ship directly on a collision course with one of the other hunters. However, within seconds they’d slipped through, and were soaring on towards the planet.

  “That was easy…” said Liberty, fighting against the pressure on her chest to get the words out.

  “We’re not out of danger yet,” replied Hudson, though he was straining to get the words out too. “We’ll have to slow down again for entry, and when we do, they’ll be on top of us.”

  Hudson held the five-g burst for a few seconds longer and then rotated the main engine pods, in readiness for their deceleration. Checking the scanner, he could see that some of the other ships had matched or even exceeded his burn. He would be able to make re-entry first, but then the real chase would be on. Some of the hunters would break off, but he knew Cutler, at least, would not. And this meant he’d have to evade them inside Brahms Three’s sticky atmosphere long enough for the CET to intervene.

  “Throttling back now,” said Hudson, expertly killing the bulk of their forward velocity just before the Kármán line – the point beyond which atmospheric entry began.

  “Six of the other hunters are still with us,” said Liberty, “including Cutler.”

  “Well, that improves our odds a little at least,” said Hudson. Six was certainly better than twenty, but there was only one pursuing ship that he was really worried about. “Get ready for some chop; I’m going in hot.”

  “Not too hot, I hope!” cried Liberty, gripping the arms of her seat tightly, as the noise in the cabin rose to a roar.

  Soon the Orion had left the void of space and penetrated the sweaty, hot atmosphere of Brahms Three. Hudson quickly reconfigured the flight systems for atmospheric flight and then dove the ship rapidly towards the surface.

  “I’m going to try to lose them in the valleys out west of the scavenger town,” said Hudson. “Keep an eye out for CET patrols. Once we’re within a hundred kilometers of the checkpoint district, they should start to take a lot of interest in us.

  Hudson dropped the Orion to just thirty meters off the ground, and immediately five of the remaining ships broke off. Hudson smiled, “Chasing us isn’t worth them crashing and burning,” he said to Liberty, who did not appear to be enjoying Hudson’s display of low-flying expertise. “Besides, they need us alive in order to coerce the secrets from us.”

  “Right now, I’ll tell you any secret you want, just to get you to stop!” cried Liberty.

  “Tempting…” said Hudson, quickly checking the navigation scanner, and noting the ID of the lone ship still in pursuit. “But we still have Cutler Wendell on our tail.”

  Hudson continued to weave through the deep valley system that stretched out for thousands of kilometers, beyond the scavenger town. Cutler’s ship matched them, move for move. Damn, that guy can fly he thought, skimming so close to one hill that the engine exhaust scorched the grass black. Then an alarm rang out. “Hold on!” he cried, banking sharply to port. Tracer fire flashed past his window and slammed into the rolling hills of the valley. He glanced over to Liberty, who was pressed into the seat as if glued to it. “Hang in there, Liberty, we’re almost inside the checkpoint perimeter.”

  Suddenly the ship began to shudder violently. Red lights flashed up across a dozen panels and alerts rang out continuously. Hudson wrestled with the controls, but they were responding sloppily, and then he saw that he was losing thrust.

  “Engine two is hit!” cried Liberty. “And we’ve got damage along the port side flight controls.”

  If he’d had more altitude, Hudson might have been able to coax the Orion down, but he was already flying too low and too fast. He only had a single option, and it wasn’t a good one.

  “I’m going to have to crash-land,” said Hudson, pulling out of the valley with the little power he had left.

  “What?!” cried Liberty. “We’ll be sitting ducks!”

  “We’re going down either way, Liberty,” said Hudson, aiming for an open plain, covered in a thick blanket of yellow foliage. “Hang on!”

  Hudson pulled up and fired the ventral thrusters in an attempt to kill as much of their downward momentum as possible. Hudson’s experience and pilot’s instincts paid off, but the Orion still hit the ground solidly, before beginning to carve a furrow through the dense vegetation. The tough, vine-like plants wrapped themselves around the hull like tentacles. It was as if the ship was being wrestled to a stop by a monstrous Kraken.

  Hudson unclipped his harness and sprang out from his seat. “Come on, we need to get off the ship, before Cutler comes back to finish us off.”

  Liberty didn’t need telling twice, and together they raced along the corridor into their living space and then out towards the cargo hold. Hudson slammed the emergency ramp release, and the hot, moist air of Brahms Three rushed inside. “Go, go, go!” cried Hudson, urging Liberty out first. Then he raced after her into the furrow carved out by the ship as it had ground to a halt. He was about to call out to Liberty to run into the denser vegetation to hide, but it was too late. Hovering above them was the FS-31 Patrol Craft, belonging to Cutler Wendell. It was so close that Hudson could see the occupants through the oval-shaped cockpit glass. Cutler Wendell was sitting in the second seat, and Tory Bellona was piloting.

  “You should have taken my offer, when you had the chance,” said Cutler, over an external speaker. Despite his level tone, the delight at having them cornered was still palpable in his voice. “Now, I’ll take what I need from your ship. And you can die here, in the dirt, where you belong.”

  The rotary cannon on the nose of the ship swung down and pointed at them. Hudson knew he’d run out of moves; this time Cutler Wendell had them.

  “I’m sorry, Liberty,” said Hudson, turning to face his partner. He didn’t know what else to say; any other words would be meaningless, he realized.

  Hudson knew Liberty had chosen to become a hunter, just as he had. And she had accepted the risks, the same as he had. Equal risk, equal reward. However, he couldn’t help but feel the stab of guilt and shame that he hadn’t managed to keep them both safe.

  Liberty wrapped her arms around him and turned her head away from the cannon, burying it in his chest. Then she spoke three words in reply. “I’m sorry too.”

  CHAPTER 29

  The cannon whirred, but Hudson saw the bullets cut through the ground to their side. He peered back up at Cutler’s FS-31 and saw that its nose had suddenly angled away from them.

  “Tory, what the hell?!” he heard Cutler cry out through the speaker
, before it was abruptly closed off.

  Hudson’s reaction had been the same as his enemy’s. He was used to Tory finding ways to spare them, but on this occasion, he didn’t know how she would justify it. A blast of air then hit them from behind, and Hudson and Liberty staggered forward, still holding onto each other for support. Shielding his eyes, he looked back to see a CET military tiltrotor patrol craft hovering above them.

  Hudson and Liberty watched in shocked silence as Cutler’s ship veered away and then started to climb sharply.

  “They’re leaving?” said Liberty, sounding more astonished than relieved. Hudson could scarcely believe it himself.

  “They can’t shoot us in front of the CET,” said Hudson, “Not unless they want to spend the rest of their lives in a penal station.”

  Hudson continued to watch until Cutler’s ship had vanished from sight, still barely believing their luck. Then he turned back to the CET vessel as it slowly set down in front of them.

  “Maybe that’s why Tory turned their cannon away?” suggested Liberty. “Perhaps she saw the CET ship approaching, and stopped Cutler from murdering us in plain sight of them?”

  “I don’t know, Liberty,” said Hudson, managing a weak smile. “But, like her or not, she’s saved our asses again.”

  Liberty scowled, “She was flying the damn ship that shot us down, Hudson,” she pointed out.

  Hudson couldn’t deny that Liberty had a point, but he didn’t believe Tory had acted merely to save her own skin. He was now more convinced than ever that the mercenary was still looking out for him, even if her methods weren’t always obvious. Maybe he was just believing what he wanted to believe, Hudson admitted, trying to play devil’s advocate with himself. However, he was finding it harder and harder to consider Tory Bellona as a threat, or as an enemy.