Ariston_Star Guardians

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  The two kicked men jumped to their feet and renewed their attack, just as Mick reached Garcia.

  He lay facedown in the dirt and hadn’t moved since he’d been shot. Her sensors told her he was dead, but she bent down to roll him over and check. In part because she didn’t trust her equipment anymore—maybe something on the planet was disrupting it—and in part because she didn’t want to believe it was true.

  Garcia’s brown eyes, frozen open in death, still held the fear he’d felt in those last seconds. Mick swallowed, blinking away tears that she couldn’t afford to shed now. Even though she’d only been hired to ferry the scientists to this planet, as the pilot of the ship and the one person with experience in the galaxy, she felt responsible for them. Also, of all the people they could lose, to lose the doctor had to be the worst. It certainly seemed cosmically unfair. He wasn’t a fighter. He had come out here wanting to help people.

  Another boom sounded behind her, reminding Mick that this wasn’t the time for mourning. She raced into the ruins, putting several buildings behind her before slowing down. Her heart slammed against her ribcage as if she’d run a marathon instead of a two-hundred-meter race. She pressed a hand against a stone wall to catch her breath.

  Should she run straight back to the Viper? Or hide out here in the ruins?

  Her suit would register as little more than a cold hunk of rock to most ships’ sensors, so she might be better in here. But she couldn’t abandon the Viper to a second shuttle of those thugs. Who were they, anyway? What kind of assholes jumped out and started killing people without a word of warning? Or explanation.

  “Dev?” Mick asked quietly, activating her comm.

  She spotted movement out of the corner of her eye and whirled, bolt bow aiming in that direction. She expected to see some of those men racing toward her. But the cobblestone road was empty and still. Her sensors showed nothing around, but they would also struggle to detect someone in combat armor. The stuff was built to deflect scans.

  “Better keep moving,” she whispered, then added, “Dev?”

  The other woman hadn’t responded. Nobody had. The channel was open.

  Mick picked up her pace, doing her best to find a path through the ruins that didn’t take her down any wide alleys or streets. If that second shuttle flew overhead, she didn’t want the pilot spotting her, not easily.

  “Dev or anyone there,” Mick whispered. “I’d really like an update.”

  What if the second shuttle had already dealt with the Viper? Destroyed it and everybody on board?

  The thought jarred her so badly that she tripped, nearly planting her faceplate on an ancient cobblestone.

  Belatedly, she realized she could check. She whispered an order to the suit’s sensors, telling it to extend its range and check for ships, not just life.

  The Viper was still there, thank God. But the enemy shuttle hovered over it. Damn it. What if people from the shuttle had already deployed, forced the Viper’s shields down, and captured all the scientists? Or worse?

  Mick increased her pace again. The only way to end all these disturbing thoughts would be to confirm that they hadn’t happened.

  A clatter came from her left, like rocks knocked from a pile. Once again, she whirled with her weapon in hand. Once again, she saw nothing.

  Mick had never believed in ghosts or hauntings, but she was beginning to think her team had been naive to brush off the legends about this place.

  She kept running. Another quarter mile, and she would be out of the ruins on the far side. The Viper would be in sight, and she would figure out what was going on.

  She glimpsed movement to her right.

  “Damn it,” she snarled, spinning in that direction and almost firing even though she knew she wouldn’t see anything.

  Except she did see something. Someone.

  The man in gray-and-white patchwork armor. And he was pointing a bolt bow at her chest.

  4

  Ariston stared at the armored figure pointing a bolt bow at his chest from ten meters away. Crumbled walls, some etched with ancient hieroglyphs and images, rose to the sides of the alley they shared, but his eyes were only for his adversary. For her.

  Back at the wreck, he hadn’t realized the armored figure belonged to a woman, but now that they faced each other, neither moving, he could focus on her. He couldn’t see much of her features through the helmet’s faceplate, but her chest plate had a curve to accommodate breasts that male armor lacked. It was impressive that she’d fought so fearlessly, taking on a greater number of enemies by herself.

  He wasn’t sure why he was surprised or impressed by a female warrior—his wife had been an even better fighter than he, in addition to being a brilliant ship commander. But it took him a moment to recover and speak since he’d mentally classified her as male during that chaotic skirmish.

  “Lower your weapon,” Ariston said.

  “Because you want to be my friend?” Her tone had a challenging, skeptical aspect, but more than that, he noted the unfamiliarity of her words. Oh, the chip embedded in his ear had no trouble translating them, but he’d been to all the Confederation planets and plenty of alien ones during his years of service, and he didn’t recognize her language.

  “Because you are my prisoner.”

  “Screw that.” She shot him.

  Her immediate response surprised Ariston, but fortunately, his instincts weren’t sleeping. He fired back as he leaped from his spot, springing atop the nearest wall. Her en-bolt still splashed off his shoulder, but it didn’t take him in the chest. His armor had already received a beating from the salvage crew, and it wouldn’t take much to break open a seam there.

  The shot he’d fired slammed into her chest piece. She staggered back but didn’t fall. Good. Even though it seemed inevitable when he was so outnumbered, he didn’t want to kill anyone.

  He’d disabled the shuttle and injured several of the salvage ship’s landing party, but Star Guardians didn’t kill criminals; they captured them. Vigilantes, as Eryx seemed to believe his people were, too. Ariston had no idea who this woman believed she was, but Admiral Chen would want him to apprehend all the trespassers on the planet, in addition to Eryx’s crew, and throw them in the brig. He would have to get them to the nearest Confederation station for a trial, likely Talon Station in the next system over, a three-day journey from here.

  How he would do any of that when he was now stranded on the surface, he had no idea, but getting this woman could be a starting point. She had a ship, one he might be able to commandeer, assuming he couldn’t get to the second shuttle and take it over.

  But she’d recovered from his hit, turned, and was running for a corner.

  Ariston ran along the wall, paralleling her. He sped up, hoping to catch up with her and cut her off.

  Stone crumbled under his weight, almost thwarting his attempts. Still, he ran faster than the wall broke away, and he made it to the corner as the woman rounded it. He sprang for her.

  She must have seen him flying toward her because she pulled up and sprang backward. He twisted in the air as he landed, but she’d scurried out of reach. She yanked the bolt bow up again, firing at him.

  Anticipating it, he sprang into the air again, this time leaping over her head and somersaulting in the air. She fired over her head at him as she crouched, and he heard en-bolts sizzling past his balled-up form, but he was fast, and she missed him.

  He unfurled to land behind her. She took off again, sprinting down a wide lane of broken cobblestones interspersed with fallen rubble.

  Ariston sprinted after her, mentally commanding the built-in springs in his boots to activate, making his bounding strides more than three times their usual length. But she had the same feature activated, and she raced along the uneven road and weaved around rubble piles with impressive speed.

  Since she was running straight ahead of him, he could have fired at her again, a sustained blast that might have burrowed through her armor, but he didn’t want to
kill her any more than he wanted to kill the other men. He wasn’t even positive she was a criminal, though her presence here implied it. Still, if he could talk to her, maybe he could offer a deal, to speak on her behalf to a judge in exchange for the use of her ship.

  The old bounty-hunting craft wouldn’t be a match for Eryx’s enhanced salvage ship, but it could likely take on the other shuttle. Assuming he could catch the woman before she disappeared into her ship and took off.

  Though he was breathing heavily from the battle he’d engaged in before looking for her—and wishing he’d broken with the usual Star Guardian diet to eat something that would have poured extra glycogen into his muscles—he urged his legs to greater speed. The end of the ruins lay ahead, and her ship would come into view soon.

  She reached the last of the crumbling walls and should have sprinted across the boulder-strewn earth toward her vessel, but she halted so quickly she had to flail her arms for balance. That was his chance. He caught up to her and reached for her shoulder, but first he spotted what she had spotted. The second away team surrounded her ship.

  One must have heard them, for the armored man turned in their direction. He immediately jerked a bolt bow toward them.

  Ariston grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her back into the ruins. A crimson en-bolt slammed into the corner of a wall, spraying stone in a hundred directions.

  Some of the shards pinged off their armor as they scrambled farther back.

  The woman stopped, looking like she might use the remains of that wall for cover while she fired back, but she couldn’t win against so many. It would be better to fall back, regroup, and come up with a plan.

  Dragging her by the arm, Ariston pulled her into what had once been a kitchen with a hearth. She sank her boots in, trying to resist. Apparently, she wasn’t thinking along the same lines as he.

  Shouts and pounding footsteps sounded from just outside the ruins—at least a couple of men had been sent after them.

  With his armor lending him strength, Ariston hefted the recalcitrant woman over his shoulder. If she’d been expecting the move, he doubted he would have succeeded. She thrashed mightily, an armored elbow slamming into the side of his helmet. It was like keeping ahold of a greased Gorta worm, but he did his best. He ran from the approaching men, leaving the kitchen area and zigzagging through the ruins to put several structures between them and their pursuers.

  The woman managed to squirm free and drop to the ground behind him. He whirled and used his body to pin her against a wall. He lifted a hand, thinking of covering her mouth, then snorted at himself. That would be difficult with her mouth behind a faceplate. He settled for holding a finger to his lips in front of his own faceplate.

  Their pursuers weren’t shouting anymore, but Ariston could hear rocks shifting as boots thudded and crunched through the ruins. He hoped the woman would grasp the trouble they were in and realize she should wait until later to fight him. Better yet, he hoped she would give him a chance to speak once their enemies passed, so he could make his proposition.

  They were close enough now that he could see her eyes through her faceplate. He would have expected to find terror in them, but they were fearless and seething. And striking, he decided. They were close to amber, with a darker ring around the irises.

  The woman tried to jam her knee into his groin. Apparently, she didn’t want her eyes admired. Since he had his body pressed into hers to trap her against the wall, the move wasn’t effective, but it wouldn’t have mattered while he wore armor, regardless.

  “Can you understand me?” he whispered, not wanting to speak loudly when he could hear the men searching nearby. But he felt like a bully keeping her pinned against the wall and would prefer to get her cooperation through other means. Most humans who traveled among the planets had translation chips, but since she spoke that unfamiliar language, he had no idea where she was from or what her customs were there. She had a Dethocolean ship, but that didn’t offer many clues. His people had the premier shipyards in the galaxy, at least among humans, so many people preferred their vessels.

  “Yes,” she growled. Fortunately, it was a soft growl. She had to also be aware of the men searching for them. “If you let me go, I’ll consider not killing you as soon as I get the chance.”

  “A magnanimous offer. If I let you go, will you agree not to attack me or run?”

  “No. Why are you people harassing us? Dr. Garcia is dead.” Her eyes flared with rage.

  Ariston grimaced. He’d come out of the shuttle too late to stop that—the man in that flaming yellow outfit had already been down.

  “Your people weren’t the original target,” Ariston said, his grimace lingering as he also thought of the crashed ship.

  Ariston wished he’d known about the captain’s plans in advance so he could have done more. He should have made his move on the bridge, before that ship had been attacked. If he had, he wouldn’t be stranded down here on a desolate planet.

  “That matters so much to Dr. Garcia.” She shifted her weight abruptly, shoving away from the wall and almost succeeding in pushing him away.

  He compensated and leaned into her. A part of him admired her fighting spirit even as another part was annoyed that she wouldn’t listen so they wouldn’t have to fight. At least for now. If he somehow managed to deal with Eryx's men, he would be obligated to arrest her crew, too, but he could worry about that later.

  “Listen, I’m not with them. Didn’t you see me attacking them? I sabotaged their shuttle as soon as they got out. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” He was about to add the axiom about the enemy of an enemy being an ally, but she spoke first.

  “Yeah, that you’re a lunatic.”

  A scuff came from the side, the only warning they got before a man in blue armor lunged around the corner. He must have heard them arguing because he fired immediately.

  Cursing himself for not being more alert, Ariston threw himself away from the woman in a backward roll. Crimson en-bolts streaked through the space he’d occupied.

  As he sprang up, using a rubble pile for partial cover, he fired.

  The woman fired, too, her back plastered to the wall but her bolt bow pointed in the right direction. Their target jumped back behind the corner, but not before their blasts slammed into him, Ariston’s striking his faceplate and the woman’s taking him in the side. Unfortunately, his armor repelled both hits.

  Ariston leaped after him, running as silently as possible across the cracked cobblestones. The man must not have expected that because he leaned back out, clearly intending to fire again. His eyes bulged behind his faceplate when he spotted Ariston almost on top of him.

  Ariston slammed a fist into his foe’s bolt bow, knocking the weapon out of his grip. The man tried to spring away, but Ariston whipped his hand out, catching him around the throat. The neckpiece kept him from squeezing effectively, but he got enough of a grip to lift his enemy off his feet and shove him against the wall. Repeatedly. The man’s armor would insulate the blows somewhat, but Ariston knew from experience that it would still be jarring. It was possible to get a concussion while one’s head was in a helmet, especially if it wasn’t perfectly fitted, and he knew most of the men on the salvage crew who had armor had acquired it illegally.

  After the sixth or seventh blow, the man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he grew limp.

  Once again, Ariston felt like a hulking bully, but this was preferable to killing people. Star Guardian Headquarters didn’t even want the Pleasant Journey’s crew. Only Eryx. But Ariston had this deluded notion that he could somehow round them all up and fly them off to justice.

  As he dropped his unconscious foe, he was aware that the woman had come up behind him. To help, he assumed. But as he shifted, intending to retrieve the crewman’s weapon, she jammed the tip of her bolt bow into the back of his neck.

  Ariston froze.

  He eyed the suit’s integrity stat on the side of his faceplate, a simple diagram that showed the vari
ous armor pieces and how damaged they were. His chest plate and greaves had taken several hits and needed repairs, but he hadn’t received a blast to the back of his neck yet. Even if he couldn’t move quickly enough to spin and knock the weapon out of her hand before she fired—which he believed he could—he would survive a quick blast.

  “Who are you people?” she demanded while he considered if he wanted to whirl and knock her weapon away.

  She was talking to him, and maybe she would continue to do so if she believed she had the upper hand.

  “I’m Ariston,” he said, deciding it was probably safe to give her his real name. Wherever she was from, it wasn’t Dethocoles, and there weren’t any database satellites in this system, so she wouldn’t be able to look him up and find out he was a former space fleet commander and an oft-decorated Star Guardian.

  “Not you. I don’t care who you are.”

  “Not even a little? That’s upsetting. I’m quite personable, you know.” Maybe if he applied a little humor, she would feel more comfortable with him.

  “When you’re not maiming people?”

  “I do my best to maim personably. No back stabbing. Few groin attacks. For those deserving of it, an apology card and occasionally a hospital visit afterward.”

  “Wonderful, a damn comedian.”

  Hm, she didn’t seem any more comfortable.

  “Look, just tell me who you people are in general. All of you who came from that ridiculously armed brick of a ship up there. Why are you killing us?” Her voice cracked a little on the last word, the first hint of emotion—of humanity—creeping into the toughness she displayed.

  He wondered if the doctor she’d lost had been a friend and again felt bad that he’d chosen to stay in the shuttle to sabotage it rather than springing out right away. But he’d had to make sure the away teams couldn’t get back to the ship and report Ariston’s apparent betrayal to the captain. That might happen anyway, since the second shuttle and team were still down here, but at least Eryx shouldn’t strafe or bomb the area if his own people were stuck down here.