Every observation panel went blue for a millisecond, and then a friendly, calming image returned. It was Sol, the happy yellow glow of humanity's home star shining in the distance. The next largest body in the sky was a dull red disc the size of a large coin. It was Mars, and Wulf guessed it would slowly grow in size over the next few hours, giving the gawkers something to watch. Wulf could not resist craning his neck around to see if he could see anything else. He was rewarded when he found a tiny blue-green star.
"There," he said, with a sad smile. Isaiah and the Boy looked, too. Johnny stared into his beer.
"Earth," said Isaiah.
"It has been a long time," said Wulf with a sigh.
"It's not there," said Johnny. The others just looked at him. "There's nothing there," continued Johnny, getting to his feet and pushing back his chair.
"There is something there," said Isaiah. "Something for all of us."
"Bollocks," said Johnny, walking from the bar.
The others ignored him and stared on in fascination, willing to suspend disbelief. The Sol system floated in front of them, and everyone began thinking of their favourite Earth thoughts. Wulf thought whimsically of a log cabin by a fjord, and a stout girl with long, white-blonde braids. The Boy thought of a high-tech city where cheering crowds would praise his gaming skills. Isaiah thought of Milton Keynes, and a rainbow crowd of mutants in the park on a sunny day, happy in their differences, waving and smiling at him as he walked, yes walked, among them, unafraid of persecution.
Johnny walked alone in the corridor and remembered a childhood in seclusion, fighting for survival in his teen years, and finally being exiled by his own people. He couldn't think of a single thing to like about Earth. Not that Earth was there anyway. He rested his hand on the corridor bulkhead and willed his alpha eyes to stare through the hull. They looked past the insulators and wires, out through the ceramic shield and a wall of force, until they gazed into hell.
Outside the ship, Earth was still light-years away. The China screamed through a tube of energy, an invader in someone else's universe. Coils of pure force slammed into the hull, raking along its length, reaching tendrils of destruction in search of the very atoms that held the China together. One flicker in the ship's forcefield, one hiccup in the ship's generator, and the energies of warp space would take hold, flinging the China and everything in it into oblivion, tearing everyone and everything apart in an apocalypse of pain. It was a terrifying abyss of infinite danger and Johnny stared right into it.
"Johnny!" called Wulf from somewhere behind him. "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere," said Johnny.
"We are in luck," said Wulf, catching him up.
"We are?"
"Jah! At least der Happy Stick is close by!" said Wulf. "There is a chance."
"We get Ruth to Mars, check she's okay, and then we clear on out," said Johnny. Wulf nodded. "With the Happy Stick," added Johnny. "Somehow."
The two men dawdled along the China's main corridor, unwilling to rush back to the cramped cabin, and with no money to spend in any of the vending machines. Johnny perched on one of the promenade benches, lost in thought. Wulf scrolled through the mugshots on his wrist comp. He knew what Johnny was thinking.
"Everybody has the times of bad luck," said the Viking. "And Alnitak was always a long shot."
"No he wasn't!" protested Johnny.
"Jah," argued Wulf. "He was! He did not jump der bail. He has not been arrested."
"You're just splitting hairs," said Johnny.
"No," said Wulf. "All you have is der old photo. That's all anyone has. Nobody has seen Alnitak. Always it is der henchmen and der minions. He's laying low."
Johnny had to admit Wulf was right. The trail they thought they were on was long dead, and there wasn't much chance of picking it up again. He wearily lifted himself off the bench and started for the cabin.
"Okay, Wulf," he said. "You win. We hit Mars, we go to the Doghouse, and we pick up something smaller. We don't bite off more than we can chew."
"You know it makes sense," said the Viking, his long legs easily matching Johnny's slow pace. Johnny reached the darkened hallway of cabins and carefully opened the door to Nigel's. His brother-in-law lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The Gronk was slumped at his feet, snoring.
With nowhere else to go, Johnny and Wulf perched on the floor. Nigel didn't acknowledge their presence with more than a single glance. He was trying to get some rest and Johnny didn't blame him.
"Life would be easier," whispered Wulf, "if der navy was rubbish."
Johnny looked at him quizzically.
"The whole body shark operation," said Wulf. "It needs there to be no guards."
Johnny nodded. "With patrol ships riding shotgun," he said, "the pirates and the body sharks, they're all up sneck creek. They've lost their ships."
"Jah," laughed Wulf. "Maybe now they have to hitch der ride."
The conversation died, sputtering like a candle and finally fizzing out. Johnny eased his aching back against the wall and tried not to complain that Nigel had the bunk. It was Nigel's cabin, after all. He had booked it for himself, and not with the expectation of having to share with three others. Johnny closed his eyes, his eyelids adding a red tinge to his permanent alpha vision. He always saw something. Just once, he thought, he would like to see nothing.
Someone was arguing in the cabin next door and Johnny cursed the ship's thin walls.
A man screamed, and then there was the fizzle of Electronux. Johnny's eyes were immediately open, staring across the cramped cabin at Wulf. His hand sprang to his side, to the empty holster where his confiscated Westinghouse had once rested.
"Oh sneck," said Johnny.
"What?" said Nigel.
A fist banged hard on the door.
"Open the sneck up!" shouted a man's voice.
"Pirates," said Wulf. "They're stealing this ship."
SHIPLESS
Nimbus ran out of patience. He was a big man and he had things to do. There was no time for warnings, or countings to three, or any of that sneck. He pointed his gun at the lock and fired. He heard a high-pitched squeal from within the cabin before he kicked open the door, one hand shining his torch into the room. He saw a Gronk at the far end of the tiny cabin, two of its hands plastered over its eyes so it couldn't see anything that might scare it.
"You!" shouted Nimbus. "Out."
He raised his gun. This was a fast operation. If the Gronk gave him any trouble, he would blow it away and move on to the next, no questions asked.
A hand grabbed his wrist, dragging his hand up, the gun suddenly pointing at the ceiling. Nimbus pulled the trigger in surprise, firing into mid-air. He dropped his torch. Nimbus couldn't see in the dark.
Johnny could.
He wrenched Nimbus's arms to the side and slammed a fist into his face. Nimbus blinked in shock, his nose throwing blood over his nose and chin, and looked down at Johnny in surprise.
Johnny hit him again, and Nimbus stumbled back out into the corridor. He tripped backwards over a body on the floor and tumbled to the ground, smacking his head on the opposite wall as he fell. He looked up and saw the man with the milky-white eyes standing in the doorway.
Nimbus realised he didn't have his gun in his hand any more.
Johnny raised the small pistol and pointed it right at Nimbus's forehead.
Nimbus smiled, sure that this stranger wouldn't be so callous as to-
Johnny shot Nimbus in the head.
Red and grey gook smeared across the opposite wall. Nimbus's body refused to admit it was dead and lay sprawled, the left leg twitching with misplaced excitement. Johnny wasn't looking. He turned to look down the hallway where a second man was dragging a woman from another cabin.
"Nimbus!" shouted the second man as he dragged the woman in front of him as a shield. Johnny registered a ball gown in shimmering blue - she was probably on her way to the bar to try her luck. He saw a woman's eyes scrunched tightly shut, willing
the terrible situation to go away; tears on a wet face. He saw tight curls of blonde hair and a tiara. And next to it, the snarling face of a sweating man, jamming the warm muzzle of a gun against her temple.
"Drop the gun," he yelled at Johnny. "Drop the gun or---"
Johnny shot him in the head, too. The little pistol made a ludicrously low-calibre noise, more of a slap than a shot. But a bullet was still a bullet.
The second gunman collapsed to the floor. His former hostage screamed some more. She took one look at Johnny's face and dropped to the ground, her hands over her head. All she saw was a man with a gun - she couldn't tell friend from foe.
Johnny darted across the hallway to an open cabin and fell to a crouch. No need to present a target at head height.
"Wulf," he called.
Wulf rolled off the bed where he had been hiding crammed next to Nigel. He hit the floor of the cabin and edged forward, staying low.
Johnny squinted along the dark corridor at the tangle of people up ahead. Undoubtedly there were more pirates there, but he couldn't separate the targets from the hostages. Johnny looked down at his stolen gun; it was a ceramic pistol, designed to escape metal detectors. They were hijackers, for sure.
"Out the door and to your left," said Johnny.
Wulf stayed on his hands and knees, his left arm flailing in search of something.
There was an anguished female squeal as he grabbed onto something he shouldn't have. The woman Johnny rescued had gained a little of her courage back. She lashed out with her fist and bolted away into the dark.
"Oh, sorry, cucumber," called Wulf after her retreating back. He leaned out into the corridor and finally found what he was looking for. It was another of the stealth pistols, right where the second gunman had dropped it.
"Got it?" called Johnny.
From somewhere in the ship came the sounds of more gunshots and screams.
"Got it," said Wulf.
"What's happening?" squealed the Gronk.
"Stay put," said Johnny. "You too, Nige. Just stay the sneck where you are."
"Gotcha," said Nigel.
"And hang onto the Gronk!" added Johnny.
Wulf snatched up the fallen torch. "Now where?" he said.
Johnny was thinking. Two men in this corridor. If this was a planned operation, which it sure as sneck had to be, they would take both cabin decks simultaneously. That meant two men in the corridor above, and maybe two or three taking the bridge. They would need at least four in the bar area. Johnny and Wulf would have a lot to deal with.
From somewhere above them, they heard a familiar voice begging through showers of spit.
"Don't hurt me!" shouted Squid. "I'm a wealthy man. I can pay my ransom. At least, I can if you give me time, I-"
There was the sound of a fist slapping into something wet, and Squid's cry of pain simultaneous with his assailant's yell of disgust.
"Down," said Johnny. "Don't let 'em sight on the torch!"
Johnny and Wulf ran for the stairwell, Johnny taking the upper flight, while the Viking headed down, keeping the torch on his feet while his eyes adjusted to the light. Johnny had no such problem. He reached the topmost stair and dropped to the floor. He saw Squid cowering on the ground while an indistinct gunman raised a pistol to his head. Squid shivered, praying that he wouldn't hear the sound of a gun being fired.
A gun went off, and he yelped in anguish. Another body could be heard slumping onto the floor.
"Holy sneck," whispered Squid, realising he was still in one piece.
The corridor lit up with a series of flashes and bangs. Squid threw himself flat on the ground and saw Johnny's head poking above the top of the stairwell in the lightning moments of visiblility.
"Johnny," he called.
"Stay down!" shouted Johnny, before any sound he might have made was drowned out by further gunshots. Squid didn't need telling twice and stayed close to the ground, his hand snaking over to his fallen would-be executioner, looking for the gun.
His hand closed on the muzzle of another pistol, hot to the touch. "Aha," said Squid, flailing his hand around until he found the butt. But as his hand closed around the grip, a booted foot stomped down on it.
Squid yelled in pain, looking up to see a shadowy figure towering above him. It raised its own gun to fire point-blank at Squid's head.
Squid's ink sac loosened completely, deluging his trousers with black liquid that smelt faintly of asparagus. His life flashed before his eyes, which didn't take long. He glimpsed only a parched childhood until his mutie mother learned to keep him wet at all times. Younger years were spent collecting frogs and other amphibians. There were a couple of failed scams as a teenager, leading to run-ins with the MKPD. And then he took the chance to be a bounty hunter, which he altogether regretted. Squid had done nothing. That annoying Johnny Alpha was right. All his achievements had been procured from those who did the real work. He was a thief who stole other people's criminals. He had only taken in one perp using his own initiative, and that had been his Uncle Fred who had come to him looking for a place to hide. And now his hand hurt, and he was on a snecky little cruise liner in the middle of nowhere, with someone about to put a bullet in his head. Squid's life sucked, and he knew it.
Johnny saw the hijacker move in on Squid. He had no time to take more careful aim. Instead, he just emptied his gun at the man standing on Squid's foot. The slugs tore into Johnny's target, causing him to jerk and sway. His gun fell to the floor, his foot stepped off Squid's hand, and he crumpled to the floor beside him.
Johnny's trigger finger clicked twice on an empty chamber. "Throw me the other gun!" he yelled at Squid.
Squid flailed in the half-light for the fallen weapon and skimmed it across the floor to Johnny. It skittered on the decking and came to rest at the top of the stairs. Suddenly, it was a lot quieter.
The echoes of the gunfire stopped ringing in Johnny's ears. All he could hear in the dark corridor was Squid complaining about his hand. All he could see was the hunched figure of the permanently-wet mutie surrounded by several bodies and a pool of warm liquid. It was too quiet for comfort. Johnny leaned back down the stairwell but heard nothing from the lower floors.
"Where's Blarg?" he yelled.
"He was downstairs!" shouted Squid. "Where's your Viking friend?"
"Same place," said Johnny quietly. Keeping on his belly, he crawled across the floor to Squid, taking care to avoid the slowly cooling puddle of body fluids next to him. Not all of it was Squid's. Johnny leaned on the corpse of a fallen hijacker and checked his gun. He flipped open the old-fashioned revolving chamber and saw just one bullet remaining. This wasn't looking good.
"Check them for ammo," he whispered, jerking his head at the fallen hijackers.
"You do it," whined Squid.
"Just snecking check!" hissed Johnny. He trained his gun on the entrance to the bar area and waited while Squid fumbled in the corpses' pockets.
"Nothing," whispered Squid.
"For sneck's sake," said Johnny.
"Amateurs," sniffed Squid.
Maybe, thought Johnny, maybe not. Probably a dozen men with a few rounds each on a ship full of feeble, drunken civilians. The gangs had had to resort to piracy. When you've lost your ship, why not steal someone else's?
Johnny looked around him. Not all the bodies were burly hijackers. He saw corpses with feathers, one wearing high heels, another with eyeglasses toppled from the bridge of its nose. One had a strangely shaped beard - the security guard they'd met on the Vaara leg. Innocent bystanders had been caught in the firefight or had suffered the consequences of resistance.
The lights came on all at once, causing Squid and Johnny to shield their eyes from the glare. There was a sudden feedback whine and then a voice crackled over the China's speakers.
"Is this thing on?" it asked nobody in particular.
Johnny and Squid exchanged worried glances. The hijackers had the bridge.
"Show's over," it said. "Everyone sta
y calm and you will not be hurt."
Squid nursed his injured hand and looked at Johnny. He might not like him, but he would do as Johnny ordered. It was his best chance to stay alive. Through the portal at the end of the corridor, Johnny could see the lowermost tier of the bar area. It was deserted but for a couple of bodies on the floor. A bloodstained handprint could be seen on the white wall.
Johnny signalled to Squid to stay down and keep to the wall. He slunked down against the opposite bulkhead and inched closer to the portal.
"All areas of this ship are under our control," said the voice. Squid and Johnny looked back at their body-strewn corridor and smirked at each other.
"The company is insured. You will be ransomed. You will be returned to your homeworlds safely if you cooperate."
"That is der cow poo!" shouted a familiar voice somewhere near the microphone. The tannoy was abruptly shut off, but Johnny heard Wulf continue to yell from somewhere inside the bar.
"These people are body sharks," said Wulf. "They'll kill you all."
Wulf suddenly went quiet after an audible thump. Someone had punched him into silence. Johnny edged one side of his face around the corner of the portal and looked up at the bar area. The passengers were clustered in the mid-section far from the exit, with no access to the corridor to the bridge.
He saw Wulf, cut and bruised, captured in his failed attempt to secure the other cabin deck. He saw Isaiah in his wheelchair, and the Boy looking scared amid the faintly woozy drinkers. And walking among them he saw seven men with red handkerchiefs pulled over their faces - a futile gesture to hide their identities as everyone would have been filmed coming onboard. The scarves were most likely being used to help them identify each other. Johnny frowned. The hijackers were working towards a common goal, but they had not been sure who was on their side. Something wasn't right.
"We see you," said Wulf's captor. "We see you round the corner. Give it up."
Johnny crouched back behind the bulkhead. Squid looked at him expectantly.
"What do we do?" he whispered. "Can we stall them?"
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