by Mark Wandrey
Murdock gave a snarl of pain as he kicked the door, dislodging a large triangular chunk of steel, which fell inward toward the bridge with a crash. Inside, through the still smoking hole, were the last two pirates.
Murdock’s laser shots had not only cut the door, they’d continued to burn gouges through the controls and systems of the bridge. One of the two pirates was fighting desperately to control the freighter’s ascent, and the other was pointing a pistol at Murdock. Murdock shot him through the chest before the other man got the chance to do the same to him. The man jerked from the laser shot and fell to the floor with a thud.
“It’s over, dipshit,” Murdock said to the last pirate.
“Leave me alone, or we’re going to crash!” the man screamed back. “You shot the shit out of the controls.”
“Fine, land it nice and easy then,” Murdock said and stepped up behind him. Murdock wasn’t a pilot, though he didn’t need to be one to see just how screwed up the systems were. His laser fire had indeed done a number on the ship. He shrugged. Cost of doing business.
“I’m trying,” the man said. He appeared to be flying the ship with a secondary control not intended for the purpose. Murdock admired his skill. Too bad he was a sack of shit pirate.
The ship’s ascent engines were roaring unsteadily, surging and slowing as the pirate tried to manage the thrust manually. He glanced back at Murdock several times, nervously looking at the laser rifle pointed at his back before returning to the controls.
A single screen still showed the ship’s exterior. They were descending at a considerable rate of speed toward the ocean surface. Murdock moved over to a bridge chair and sat, letting the rifle hang by its strap as he struggled to buckle the safety belt with his maimed right hand. He managed after a second. He’d flown enough to know this landing wouldn’t be pretty.
He braced himself as the engines spun up to full power in an attempt to stop their descent. They strained mightily for several seconds, and then the ship slammed into the water at more than a hundred kph.
* * *
Something smacked him in the face. Murdock opened his eyes and grunted.
“Yeah, wake up you bastard.”
Murdock finally focused on the speaker to see it was the pirate who’d been piloting when they’d hit the water. “Great landing,” he mumbled.
“Screw you,” the man said and smacked Murdock in the face. It hurt a little, but probably not as bad as it did the pirate’s hand. The pirate cursed and shook his fist. In his other hand was a pistol. “I hit the water hard on purpose, hoping it would knock you out.”
Murdock glanced over at the only monitor still working and could see the ship was sinking. “Well done,” he said, then laughed, “you knocked me out, and fucked the ship to pieces. We’re sinking.”
The pirate glanced over at the engineering board, and Murdock slid a hand toward his Ctech pistol. The man didn’t buy it and instantly pointed his own pistol at Murdock’s head.
“Hey, easy there,” Murdock said, and took his hand away from the gun. The other man relaxed slightly. “So, what’s your plan then?”
“Plan?” The man asked, then laughed. “You’ve killed the whole crew and our boss! I don’t have a plan, other than looking you in the eye when I kill you.” He raised the pistol level with Murdock’s face.
“Huh,” Murdock said, “I wouldn’t expect that level of honor from a scum-sucking pirate.”
The man was taken slightly aback by Murdock’s aplomb. He shook his head and laughed. Murdock laughed along with him. Then Murdock launched himself at the pirate.
He hadn’t reached for his pistol before making his move. There was no way he could have brought the weapon up, aimed it, and fired before the pirate would have blown his head off. No, Murdock had simply clicked the release on his belt so he could make the real attack when the moment presented itself.
As he leaped, his wounded hip became a lance of white-hot agony, which threw his lunge off angle. The pirate’s gun boomed, and Murdock felt the bullet tear through his left shoulder, just to the side of the fucking armor.
His velocity carried him into the pirate, and the two went sprawling to the deck in a tangle of limbs. Murdock tried to grapple with the man, but his left arm didn’t respond.
The pirate kicked Murdock in the stomach and rolled to his feet. “Nice try,” he said.
Murdock managed to get to a sitting position, his left arm lying useless in his lap. It was the best he could manage. Blood poured from his shoulder; a lot of blood. Bad, he thought, glancing at the wound. The entire ship shifted slightly as it continued to sink. He guessed it didn’t matter much, he was in no condition to swim anyway. “Just end it, you worthless fuck.”
“Fine,” the man said and leveled the gun.
A pistol fired, and blood bloomed on the pirate’s chest as a hollow-point round punched through. He staggered and turned, lurching to the side, and allowed Murdock to see the small form of Vince half out of a ventilation shaft. The boy held a pistol with a curl of smoke coming up from the barrel.
“You?” the pirate stammered.
“Me,” the kid said. The pirate half slumped, then tried to raise his gun. Vince shot him again, and again, and again, the pirate jerking and staggering under the impacts before falling face first onto the metal bridge deck in a bloody ruin. His leg spasmed a couple times, then was still.
“You okay, Mr. Murdock?” Vince asked as he extracted himself the rest of the way from the shaft.
“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Murdock said, and tried to fish a cigar out of his jacket. His messed-up right hand couldn’t grasp the container, and his left wouldn’t work at all. “Can you get me a stogie out?”
“What’s a stogie?” Vince asked. Murdock gave a croaking laugh, then tumbled over sideways onto the pitching bridge deck.
* * *
Murdock opened his eyes and looked around. The fact that he was capable of opening his eyes came as a bit of a surprise. He remembered bleeding out from an arterial shoulder wound on a spaceship sinking in the ocean. The kid, Vince, had just saved his life from the sole-surviving pirate, if only saving it for a few minutes.
He looked around to find himself in a hospital room with all manner of apparatus hooked to his body. His entire left shoulder and part of the arm was encased in a cast, and his hip was heavily bandaged. He felt no pain. He raised his right hand, bending it at the elbow, and saw the hand was encased in bandages as well.
“I couldn’t do anything about the finger.”
Murdock turned his head and saw a man in medical dress standing by the door. He had a slate in his hand and was ticking off boxes while a Tri-V of a medical scan floated above it. Murdock figured it was his scan, because he could see red highlights on shoulder, hip, hand, and head.
“Frankly, I’m surprised to be breathing,” Murdock told the doctor.
“Captain Orlan of the Shell Game II had you medevacked back to Atlantis,” the doctor explained. “You died twice en route.”
“I’d like to say it’s the first time I died, but that would be a lie.” The doctor grunted and nodded.
“I’m Dr. Tangens,” he said, “chief surgeon in Atlantis.”
“Permanent damage?” Murdock asked.
“Some,” Tangens said. “Aside from the missing finger on your right hand, you have a little nerve damage in your left hip, and more in the left shoulder. We won’t know the full extent until the healing is complete.”
“Really wish I hadn’t used the last of my nanites now,” Murdock admitted.
“We used some on you,” the doctor explained.
“Ouch,” Murdock said, “I’m not looking forward to that bill.”
“Your expenses have been paid,” he said. Murdock didn’t know how to respond. The doctor laughed a little, then shook his head. “The police are outside.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Sort of,” Dr. Tangens said. “They’ve instructed us to hold you until they could intervie
w you.”
“Might as well get it over with,” Murdock said and nodded toward the door. The doctor headed for the door, then Murdock thought of something. “Hey, doc. What about the kid, Vince?”
“Sorry,” the doctor said, “I don’t know anything about it.” He left, and a minute later the door opened again and a familiar man came in.
“Detective Shawn Tyrie,” Murdock said with a grin, “imagine my surprise.”
“Spare me,” the police detective said as he strode up to the bed, “you lied about working as a merc. You lied to customs, and you lied to me.”
“I did no such thing,” Murdock replied.
The detective’s face flushed with anger. “Are you insane? You went out there with all kinds of weapons and carried out a damned war!”
“Oh, those toys?” Murdock asked with a straight face. If anything, the detective was further infuriated. “I’m just a retired merc working as a fisherman.”
“Bullshit! You might as well admit the fishermen hired you.”
“They hired me, alright,” Murdock said. Tyrie’s eyes lit up with an expression of victory. “They hired me as a deckhand, which is what I’ve been doing for the last few weeks.”
“You only did it to get a chance to fight the pirates!”
“Well,” Murdock said, and shrugged, “you might be right. But frankly, it’s your word against mine.”
“You son of a bitch,” Tyrie snarled.
“Oh, without a doubt. Without a doubt.”
It was later in the afternoon when Captain Orlan and several of his men showed up. The detective had left after much yelling and teeth-gnashing; Murdock had no fucks to give. He’d gotten worse from drill instructors during his cadre days as a young merc. Much worse.
“I assume I have you to thank for rescuing me from the pirate ship?” he asked the captain.
“Not at all,” Orlan said, “it was a kid. He flew you over in one of those pirate skiffs. We thought they were coming back to attack again.”
“Kid?” Murdock asked. “You mean Vince?”
“Yeah,” the First Mate said, “that’s his name.”
“Kid’s not a half-bad pilot,” Orlan said. “We offered him a job on the boat.”
“Good,” Murdock said, “he doesn’t have any family. I think he’ll be safe with you guys.”
“He would have,” Orlan said, “only he didn’t take the job. He says he’s going to work for you.” Murdock blinked in surprise. “He wants to be a merc. Says he’s going to live with you.”
“Swell,” Murdock said, and they all chuckled. “I live in a boarding house.”
“About that.” Murdock glanced over to see Sheela Dresdin standing in the doorway. “I wanted to thank you for what you did.”
“Did what?” Murdock asked with a straight face. “I just happened to be working on the boat when the pirates attacked.”
“And you ‘just happened’ to have missiles, and lasers, and shit hidden on my boat,” Orlan said, “totally believable.” All the men were giving knowing nods, and Sheela had a slightly crooked grin.
“Well, anyway,” Sheela said, “you still have a job with me. It also seems we found a small piece of land on a nearby island. It’s not much, but it has a little cabin on it. Orlan and I bought it the other day; I don’t know what we were thinking. Seems a bunch of the ship captains all donated credits for it, and decided to pay your doctor bills, too. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?”
“Hilarious,” Murdock said, then grinned, “but I can’t take it.”
“Then don’t,” Orlan said, “but it’s yours.” He handed him a folder with the logo of a title company on it. “It’s yours, do with it what you want.”
Murdock took the folder and looked at it, a swirl of conflicting emotions whirling around his head. “I didn’t do this for any pay,” he said.
“We know,” Sheela said. “We did this just to say thanks.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Murdock admitted.
“Just take it,” Sheela said. He nodded and put the folder next to his bed. The door opened again, and the kid Vince was there.
“Can I have a minute?” Murdock asked.
“Have all the time in the world,” Sheela said and began chasing the fishermen out of the room. Vince waited patiently, looking shy and a little afraid. After a minute, they were alone.
“Thanks, kid,” Murdock said, “you saved my life. But I told you to get out of there.”
“I never was too good at taking orders,” Vince said, a little impish grin on his face.
“I can relate,” Murdock replied. “But look, you can’t stay with me.”
“Why not?” Vince asked, looking crestfallen. “You don’t like me?”
“I like you fine, kid, but I’m an old worn out merc. I’m not some father figure.”
“I saw what you did,” Vince said, “and the fisherman told me the rest.” He looked at Murdock with big, shining eyes. “You’re a hero, and I want to learn from you.”
“I ain’t no damned hero,” Murdock insisted, but the kid’s expression didn’t change in the least. He thought for a second about what to do with him. He could have him stay with Sheela and her daughter, or maybe the Sharps. Problem was, he knew full well the kid would just run off. He’d seen the look a thousand times growing up in the South. The determination, the resolve, and the utter stubbornness. It reminded Murdock of himself when he’d left to be a merc.
“I’ll tell you what,” Murdock said and took the folder Orlan had left, “you can stay with me. For a bit,” he said as the kid’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “Just to see how it goes. Maybe help me keep my new place clean and stuff. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds awesome,” Vince said.
“But you can’t complain about my cigars!”
“What’s a cigar?” Vince asked.
“Oh, you’ll find out,” Murdock said and gave a little chuckle. Who knew, maybe it would be okay. At least with all the fucking pirates and thugs gone, Valais would be more like the place he’d wanted to retire to.
Vince sat down on the chair next to Murdock’s bed. “Can you tell me about how you became a merc?”
“Sure,” Murdock said, “why not.” He started telling his story, only with a lot less sex, booze, and killing.
* * * * *
Interlude
Enter the Big Bad Wolf
“What a dump.” The ship’s captain tapped at the controls and watched as his cameras focused on the distant globe. Water, water, and still more water. “Valais,” he said, turning his head to his pilot and flashing an impressive number of shining teeth. “Sonia, what does Valais mean?”
“How am I supposed to know?” she asked, working at her controls.
“It’s your language.”
“Humans don’t have a unified language, Rex. How many times have I reminded you?” He grunted, a sound that would have made ancient Humans cringe and move closer around the firelight. Had they seen Rex, likely those same Humans would have run screaming into the night.
Rex noticed the computer tasking change and guessed she was using her pinplants. Then Sonia grunted. “It’s the name of an ancient ocean on Earth dating back to the Mesozoic age.” He cocked a massively bushy eyebrow at her. “Two hundred fifty million years ago. The ocean is now largely near the top of mountains.”
“Typically meaningless Human name,” Rex said. “Is there any dry land, or do we have to swim?”
“There is some,” she explained. “Though not much.” He grumbled, then the cockpit was quiet for a time. The ship floated a short distance from the hyperspace emergence point, just a spot in the endless vastness of space. Unmoving. Quiet. Listening.
“This better not be a waste of time and fuel,” Rex said finally.
“The lead was Tuco’s, not mine,” Sonia reminded him. Rex glared, his eyes two glowing red spots in the darkened bridge. They both knew Tuco’s contacts were as reliable as they were unscrupulous.
&n
bsp; “One too many leads like the last one, and I might lose my license.” This time Sonia nodded. That would be bad. A second later the radio beeped; a high gain burst transmission had just been received. Sonia closed her eyes as she decrypted the message with her pinplants. “Well?” he asked impatiently.
“It’s worse than we thought,” she said. “Someone wasted the entire operation. Both parts of it!”
“A competing team?” Rex asked.
“No one knows,” Sonia replied, “but in the last three months there’s been no activity.”
Rex used a long claw to scratch behind one ear, his eyes narrow red slits. He was rare among Besquith, tending more toward thoughtful contemplation instead of opening fire. “Well, that complicates things,” Rex said finally.
“Or improves them,” Sonia suggested.
He turned his eyes on her. “What do you mean?”
“From what Tuco’s source said, those behind the operation were committed to this course of action. Maybe a more aggressive effort later?”
“Perhaps,” Rex said, his voice a low growl. “So, we either go look for opportunities elsewhere, or commit to a longer time effort here.” Sonia regarded her boss as he considered. “Wil?”
“Yeah, boss,” the voice replied from elsewhere in the ship.
“You willing to go down and evaluate the situation?”
“I doubt anyone down there would know me,” Wil replied.
“Good,” Rex said. “Take the shuttle down and get a feel for the situation. See if you can figure out how those other operations were neutralized and start setting up a center of operations for us.”
“I need the manufactory,” the man said.
Rex growled and showed some of his numerous teeth. Sonia gave a little cough to hide her laugh.
“Make it look convincing,” Rex said.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Wil replied.
Rex growled louder, spitting his answer. “Fine.”
“I need ten thousand in loose credits too.”