by T. R. Harris
After that, the containers could be safely carried in the cargo hold of the Ed Gibson. Even then, a slight amount of radiation would remain. Jay would have to save a little of the foam for the cargo hold. After transferring six containers, the residual contamination would be high enough to be detected by Riyad and his people, a dead giveaway that more than one container had been inside the hold. That was fine; Jay planned for it.
With everyone at work, Jay stood back and scanned the desolate field of abandoned warehouses at the facility. He casually wondered what was in the other buildings. There could be another treasure trove of riches inside. He shrugged. That would have to wait for another day. Two million credits would be enough for this trip. Then with the profits, he could return to Hax’on with a full-scale operation if he wanted. There was something like eighty warehouses in this section of the factory. Not all would contain products, but some would be. Jay was curious to see what else was in them, but without the locking codes, he would have to blast open the doors, and that might attract attention. But first he had to finish this job. Get the weapons, make an enormous profit, and then he could figure out this next move.
Jay Williford loved it when a plan came together.
9
It had been a day already, and the spacesuit was becoming stuffy and hot, and even if one went to the Ed Gibson, it wasn’t safe to take them off, at least not for an extended period. It had been fourteen hours since the decon foam had been applied, with another two to go before it would be safe to transport the containers. It was going to be another long day on the surface of Hax’on.
After trying his access code on several warehouse doors—with no success—Jay began to think more about the mysterious—and deadly—owners of the weapons. They attacked the aliens at Cain’s a couple of weeks ago, and he was wondering why they hadn’t done it earlier? After all, Hax’on had been attacked by Kracion over three years before—so why start the killing now? Were they only now getting ready to move on the weapons? He knew one of the reasons they hadn’t recovered them earlier was because the surface of Hax’on was much hotter than it was now, more than any suit could protect against. Also, Kracion was still active in the region for several months after the attack, so no one dared approach any of the dead worlds until he was neutralized.
But it had been a couple of years since salvage operations began in The Zone, yet only now the owners felt the need to keep their prize a secret. Jay figured the dead aliens at Cain’s had tipped their hand that they were about to reveal the existence of the weapons. That, or, as Jay figured, the owners were getting ready to make their move on the warehouse and didn’t want to risk anyone revealing their existence, either before or after the salvage. That was why he kept one eye on the space above. They could show up at any time and spoil the party.
The development and manufacture of such incredible weapons involved a substantial investment, both in time, talent and money, and after all that, who would want to lose their investment? Add to that the fact the rifles were built on Hax’on—which was not known as a center of weapons manufacture—and that meant the mysterious owners had come out to the Kidis Frontier to keep their invention a secret from the bulk of the galaxy. There was a sinister purpose behind the weapons; there always was. Twenty-four hundred super-rifles would make a sizeable dent in any hostile action, especially if they could be introduced all at once and by surprise. Somewhere in the galaxy, a revolution was brewing, and the prototype flash weapons were the key to its success.
While waiting for the decon foam to work, Jay made his way to the main administration building of Tainesin Manufacturing Works, hoping to learn more about the weapons and who ordered them. And that brought up another interesting possibility: somewhere there had to be design plans for the rifles. They would be extremely valuable in their own right, although any competent weapons manufacturer could easily reverse engineer the rifles if they could get their hands on one. Even so, the plans would be worth a fair number of credits. Besides, companies like Maris-Kliss and Xan-fi would pay handsomely just so they could lock the plans away from their competitors. The plasma rifles were game-changers, and the big players would know that. Jay would be doing himself a disservice if he didn’t make an effort to learn more about their design and manufacture.
And another item—and probably the most important—if the owners were willing to kill anyone with knowledge of the weapons, it would be a good idea to know who they were so he could keep an eye out for them. Jay knew that seldom did great gain come without risk, and a little preventive care could go a long way to mitigating that risk.
The huge building was spooky in its emptiness. Although the attack on Hax’on had come with little notice, there had been enough for the natives to run to their homes and families before the bombs began to fall. Even so, there were still a few bodies lying about, horribly ravaged by the intense radiation, yet preserved to a point by the lack of surviving bacteria and other organisms that would have contributed to decay.
Jay discovered early on in his salvaging career that most planets in The Zone had automated cold fusion power grids that still functioned to some degree, although more were failing as time went by with no one to oversee their maintenance. However, the Tainesin Manufacturing Works was a large operation that couldn’t afford power outages. Because of this, the company had dedicated reactors as backups, which kicked in when the off-site systems broke down. However, with the entire population of the planet either dead or gone, there was little call for them to activate.
Jay held his breath as he powered up one of the larger computers he found in the building. To his relief, lights came on, and the screen lit up. How long that would last, he didn’t know. He would have to hurry.
So, where to begin? He’d thought of this already, so he spoke to the machine, letting the universal translator convert his words into Hax’onean. “Seventy-plus power rating.”
The power level of the rifle was one of its most unique features, and searching for the subject rather than a general reference to plasma rifles might produce more fruitful results. He wasn’t disappointed. The search produced nine results, with most referring to appliance ratings and other general information about flash cannon power levels. But there was one that referenced the Saxon Order. He followed the thread.
With the computer now keyed to English, most of the text was converted into his native language. He began to read. To his surprise, there was very little security surrounding the order for the weapons. Tainesin was primarily a builder of household and commercial appliances, such as refrigerators and food processors, items that hardly required security clearances to produce. Even so, it did take some back-dooring to eventually reach the main file on the Saxon V-18 EJK Special Boost Weapon, or the SV-18.
For all the gratification he felt at having traced the weapons, Jay was disappointed with some of the information he found in the main file. The order was placed by a being named Kalses U’nlo, representing a company called Rosnek, located on the planet Fes’do. Jay had never heard of Fes’do before, nor had he heard of the company Rosnek. A later search of the Library would fill in the gaps, but that would have to wait. He had just noticed an interesting reference key, one that made his heart skip a beat. It was more of a footnote, but it was significant.
In one reference to the name Kalses U’nlo, the word Gradis was next to it, set off in parentheses.
Jay leaned back in the chair and thought about the significance. In a way, it made sense. The Gradis Cartel was one of the largest criminal organizations in the galaxy, and they were located primarily in the Kidis Frontier, as was the planet Hax’on. Who better to handle the production of surreptitiously built super-weapons than the Cartel? It also helped explained the gangland hit at Cain’s. The Cartel would have ready access to any number of professional killers for the job. But this also meant the Gradis was merely the brokers for the transaction. He doubted if he would find the name of the end-users in any of the computer material; otherwise, they w
ouldn’t have used the Cartel to coordinate the manufacture of the weapons. Jay hoped to learn their identity so he could avoid them in the future. That wasn’t going to happen. And it was impossible to identify Cartel members since they came in all shapes, sizes and of every species.
Frustrated with this line of inquiry, Jay began a search for any schematics, drafts, or anything else that would show how the rifles were built. He was deep into this new search, having transferred some plans to a thumb drive he found in the desk when his communicator screeched and Donal’s voice sounded in his ear.
“Jay, where are you?”
“I’m in the admin building. What’s going on?”
“Rans is picking up approaching contacts, three of them coming out of the Northwest.”
“From space?”
“Yes. Starships, each of varying signatures.”
Both Jay and his second-in-command knew what that meant. Raiders. Pirates seldom had more than two ships from the same manufacturer, as their fleets were made up of an amalgamation of whatever vessels they could scrounge together. On the contrary, Union or Expansion ships would all have the same energy signature.
“Three, you say?”
“Yes. Rans is orienting his weapons toward the approximate landing area.”
“That’s a lot. I hope we have the firepower to scare them off.”
“As do I. The crew is taking up arms as well. And we do have the rifles.”
“Good point. How long until they land?”
“They are on final approach; five minutes, no longer.”
“I’m too far away to help. I’ll monitor from here, see if I can outflank them.”
“I do not understand?”
“I’ll see if I can sneak up on them from a different direction.”
“Ah, that would be good. Maintain contact.”
Jay removed the thumb drive and shut down the computer before sprinting for the exit. It would take five minutes for him to leave the building, and then another twenty to reach the warehouse grounds, even using his enhanced Human muscles in the light gravity of Hax’on. Whatever was about to happen would be over by then. Still, he had to do what he could to help. He was armed with a standard MK-17 flash pistol and two extra battery packs. That wasn’t much against three raider ships and their crews.
Dammit! he thought as he ran. I was really hoping we could get away with this clean.
The three pirate starships made no attempt to hide their intentions. They came in low over the warehouses then hovered until they found a suitable landing area where they would fit. Rans and his security team were pros, armed with powerful weapons designed specifically for this type of action. The raiders would land and send out individual troops. They were after the salvage as much as the others, so an attack from the air was impractical. The pirates would have to overcome the ground forces before they could claim the prize. The security force was there to prevent that from happening.
Rans stationed his troops at the corners of the warehouses, with line-of-sight to the landing starships about four hundred yards away. Double-barrel flash cannon had that range, and Donal had taken the opportunity to unload a few of the prototype rifles from their crates, handing them to his crew. Although he’d never seen the weapons fired, Jay told him what they could do. He grinned, thinking what a surprise they would be to the invaders.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was at their backs, while the raiders had to contend with the blinding light in their eyes. Donal walked along the line of defenders, patting each on the back and giving them words of encouragement. They had multiple factors going in their favor. It would all turn out fine.
What Donal didn’t know at the time was that twenty armed fighters were approaching on foot from the opposite direction, having been waiting on the surface for several days before their ships made diversionary landings on the other side of the compound. They moved quickly, yet cautiously, around the warehouse buildings, hugging walls and watching that their elongated shadows didn’t attract the attention of their prey.
The defenders were in a perfect position to respond to the starships; however, their backs were exposed to the unseen force approaching from behind, and now only yards away.
That’s when the inevitable happened. A restless defender turned for some reason, spotting the approaching raiders and yelling out the alarm. He opened up with a powerful flash rifle, firing repeating rounds of strange blue energy.
Captain Lospen Calos began shouting orders to fire, even as three of his troops fell to the deadly fire from the strange weapon. But even this super rifle wasn’t enough to prevent the slaughter. Within a minute, most of the defenders were dead, with only a few scrambling for the cover of a small speeder nearby.
Rans Xaoc pulled the microphone close to his bloody mouth. He’d been hit in the side by a grazing bolt from a Xan-fi rifle, and although most of the wound was cauterized, there was still blood, the result of internal injuries. He struggled for breath as he sent out the distress call.
“Xaoc calling Riyad Tarazi. Hax’on expedition under attack. Raiders. Surprise approach. All defense eliminated. Final reporting …”
His voice trailed off, along with his breath. He died with the microphone still clutched in his hand.
10
Jay didn’t witness the slaughter of his crew, but he did see the aftermath.
From a hidden position at the edge of the warehouse field, he saw the pirates loading the bodies into the hold of the Ed Gibson. Raiders didn’t like leaving reminders around of their handiwork. They wanted the salvagers to believe they were thieves, not killers, and the fewer horrific murder scenes broadcast around The Zone, the better.
He checked his watch. Another hour and the containers would be safe to move. With three ships and a workforce of over twenty, the pirates would make quick work of the pods, leaving Jay not only with nothing to show for his efforts but without a ship, a crew, and in even more debt to Riyad than before. His friend would be especially upset with the loss of the Ed Gibson. They only had a few serviceable ships and no money to buy new ones. The loss of the freighter would be significant. The death of the alien crew they would shrug off, as would Jay. One could never become very close friends with aliens. They were just too … too alien.
But having Riyad pissed off at him was the least of his worries. He was in a bright green protective environment suit, using filtered air to breathe. That was fine, but the planet had absolutely nothing to eat and only toxic water to drink. If what they said about the Survival Rule of Threes was true, then he had about three days to go before he would die of thirst, maybe sooner since it was hotter than hell in the suit.
It was a given that the pirates would take the Ed Gibson. But what about his speeder? It was too small for hauling cargo and was unarmed, making it useless in combat. Would they assume all the salvagers were dead and just leave it? Jay was an optimist, but that would be asking too much.
As far as he could see, he only surefire way off the planet was to stow away aboard one of the raider ships. He had no doubt they would eventually show up at Liave-3, and if not there, then Dasnon, the other oasis planet within The Zone. But Dasnon was nothing, just a half dozen waystation settlements on a desert world. But at least there he could catch a ride back to Liave. Maybe. There was just too much uncertainty in his planning; however, the only certainty was that if he didn’t get off the planet with the raiders, he would be dead within the next few days.
It was dark by the time Jay made his way into the warehouse forest. He had to get closer to the three grounded starships to look for a way in. Most of the crew was out near the main warehouse, beginning to pull out the containers and place them on squat transports. The raiders came prepared, equipped with everything they would need to load the containers into their ships. The six decontaminated pods would fit easily in two of the ships, if not one. They were larger than the Ed Gibson, with gaping holds designed to carry as much booty as possible.
Early on, the alie
ns entered the warehouse and emerged with a few of the loose rifles. A crowd formed around them, gawking at the weapons. Then one of the aliens stepped back and began firing into the air. This set off a literal stampede into the building, with each of the pirates emerging with a rifle of their own. Moments later, the dark sky was ablaze with bright blue streaks, looking like a 4th of July celebration. Other shots were aimed at the nearby warehouses, sending fiery explosions into the air as sun-hot plasma met steel.
A muscular black-skinned alien ran up to the unruly mob and began yelling, pulling several of the weapons from the hands of the crew. He was the captain of the pirates, and his orders were obeyed. Calm returned to the night, but not before someone noticed that a door to a neighboring warehouse was hanging open. Others of the crew went inside to investigate, seeking even more treasure.
Jay crawled on the tarmac on his stomach to get a better look. It wasn’t easy, staying concealed while wearing a bright green Hazmat suit. Fortunately, Hax’on only had one moon, and it hadn’t risen yet, casting the field into thick, gloomy darkness laced with a trace of fog.
A couple of minutes later, an electric excitement began to move throughout the pirate community. They scrambled outside the second warehouse, as others ran to neighboring buildings, blasting at the locking mechanisms with their new toys. The aliens would run in, then emerge a few moments later, even more excited.
Jay wondered what they found inside, so he rose to his feet, and in the confusion, sprinted to the side of his speeder where he could get a better look.
Crew members were running up to their captain, talking with wild hand motions and amplified voices. Jay’s translator struggled to make out the chatter, fighting among the multiple languages being yelled across the tarmac. What he could make out sounded a lot like, “More! More!”