Shock Diamonds

by E. R. Mason

  There were at least thirty. Plasma beams began to come so close they were ruffling our clothing. There was no way we’d escape. Demoray ditched his sword. It spun once in the air and stuck in the ground behind us. He was doing a fair job with the rifle, but in my peripheral vision I saw a shot catch him square in the shoulder and flip him over. There was nothing I could do. I had to give my attention to the enemy out of sheer desperation. Surprisingly, a moment later, rifle fire rang out alongside me, meaning Demoray was back up and shooting. It was then I took a direct hit in my left arm.

  The shot skidded me back on the ground. Stars and lightning flashes appeared. I kept firing blindly and tried to pull back up to where I had been, but discovered my left arm was now completely off duty. I had to drag and shoot with the rifle hand. Demoray had rolled once to change his position. It looked like together we had dropped at least a dozen of them, but there were plenty more. We had slowed them quite admirably. They had given up on their charge, spread out, and were piling on the automatic weapons fire.

  Demoray was the first to go. He tried to roll once more but a beam caught him square in the chest. His rifle went flying in the air and landed beside the sword. I knew I was now firing my last rounds.

  Three or four very long seconds later, I was hit in my left hip. Not so many lightning flashes this time, but for a few moments all of me was paralyzed. A few of the enemy resumed their charge, and a moment later they were upon us. I was disarmed and held with a knee in my back. I still had some use of the right arm, but my left and my legs were no longer a part of me. Suddenly, I was on my side and watching them check Demoray for other weapons. They turned him onto his back and dragged him away by the collar. As his boots passed by, someone suddenly had me by the collar, and I was dragged alongside him. It had been a good fire fight. It was over. The future looked bleak.

  But then came Wilson.

  The world was still slightly blurry. There was smoke and trash in the air from the firefight. Through the haze he emerged, a heavy automatic weapon in each hand, firing continuously, wearing upper body armor and a face shield that looked like Batman. He did not stop, just kept tromping forward like a monster from hell. The few plasma shots that hit him were poorly aimed and glanced off the armor, knocking him back slightly each time, but not stopping him. Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear the moans and cries behind me of the many enemy falling.

  Whoever had been dragging me had stopped. Beside me, Demoray’s feet were no longer moving. My right arm was tingling but beginning to work again. I managed to push up at the waist and glance behind. The continuing plasma fire from Wilson sizzled and crackled as it passed overhead. The enemy was a scattered, wounded bunch. They had been well organized, but totally unprepared for Wilson. They staggered and fell among the two dozen or so already down, trying to find cover or fire back at the strange monster that refused to die. Wilson finally took a hit dead center to the stock of one rifle. It flew out of his grasp and snapped the harness off his shoulder. He wiped the stun from his hand but kept firing with his other.

  Some hasty retreating began by the security force. Only three of the attackers that remained had true grit. They continued to awkwardly advance. They’d fall, fire, and then scramble ahead. As I watched, one of them took a hit and dropped his rifle. Dazed, he held one arm but still kept moving forward. His partner took notice, tripped on a fallen comrade, and fell, burying the muzzle of his own rifle deep in the dirt. He reached down and drew a Bowie-type knife from a sheath on his ankle.

  A split second later, Wilson was on them. He was still squeezing at the numbness in his stunned hand as he drew a bead on the two and fired, only to find his weapon fully discharged and recharging.

  It was suddenly an unarmed Wilson facing off with two unarmed security soldiers. I wanted in badly. I pushed up and tried to get to my feet only to find I was still shut off from the waist down. I clawed around trying to spot a weapon within reach. Demoray remained out cold. For a moment, it looked like hand-to-hand combat, two against Wilson. Those were good odds for Wilson, even with a bad arm.

  But the security man nearest him spotted the sword sticking up out of the ground, and the automatic weapon beside it. He did not hesitate. He dove for the rifle.

  It was the worst choice he could have made. It left Wilson with a sword. As the guard rolled upright with the rifle, Wilson’s good hand already had the grip. He sliced the blade upward in time to catch the rifle just in front of the trigger guard. The barrel of the gun was knocked upward, striking the attacker squarely in the forehead, knocking him out instantly. He fell in a heap. In one continuous motion, Wilson made a quick, tight circle with the sword tip so that it cut down across the chest of the second guard wielding the Bowie knife. It opened a new seam in the man’s uniform top, left a shallow red line down his bare chest, and came back around to end up a few inches from his face. He looked at Wilson, the ragged opening in his uniform, let out a squeak, and ran.

  Suddenly, there was silence, interrupted by occasional moans or cries. Wilson disappeared from my field of vision for a few moments, then returned with his guns. Once again, I tried to regain my feet, but the lower extremities were still not working. The next thing I knew, I was again being dragged on my back by my collar, the unconscious Demoray dragging alongside me. But this time we were headed for the ship. I craned my head back and managed an upside-down view of Wilson pulling us both along like sacks of wheat. Behind us was the carnage of sleeping or whimpering security force men wondering what the hell had happened.

  At the base of the Griffin’s loading ramp there was suddenly a great deal of fussing and dashing about with choruses of cursing and woeful commentary. In the background I could make out Danica’s voice on the intercom adding her own version of foul-language motivational speaking.

  Then we were inside with the hatch sealed, on the floor going up at a blistering 9 Gs. Except for the whine of the OMS engines there was not a sound. Those of us flattened out on the floor could not take enough air into our lungs to express any sentiments of discomfort.

  Finally a commanding female voice came over the intercom and yelled, “Stay down!” and we were left there for the jump to light. We slid across the floor into a heap against the back wall like the unsecured cargo that we were. No one minded. Wilson was sitting against the wall with his knees raised, smiling down at me like a kid who had just visited Disney World, now on his way home. Demoray was lying next to me, his head rolling from side to side as he mumbled incoherently and tried to come to consciousness to get back in the fight.

  With one good hand and one hand still tingling, I managed to push myself up against the wall next to Wilson. To my surprise, the right knee was willing to bend and came up to help hold the position. I pointed to it and shook my head proudly.

  “You better hope everything else still comes up too, partner,” he said with a smirk.

  “Wilson, did we just kill a bunch of people?”

  “My guns were on wide-beam heavy stun. What were yours on?”

  “Heavy stun. So you’re saying we didn’t kill anybody?”

  “I don’t know. If any of them had pacemakers I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”

  “So they were in stun, too. Wanted us alive.”

  “Some were, some weren’t. Got some burns in my armor.”

  “Was I hallucinating or did you take out two dozen guys?”

  “Ah, but I’ve done better, days past.”

  “De Bergerac! You’re trying to quote de Bergerac at a time like this?”

  “Your other knee is twitching. There’s still hope for the more important parts.”

  “You cut that guy with the sword.”

  “Barely scratched him.”

  “It was a long one, though.”

  “It had to be convincing.”

  “Apparently, it was.”

  “It will be a trophy he will brag about for years to come. He’ll probably get promotions because of it. Eventually after the tale has bee
n told a hundred times, he will finally win the battle and save the fair maiden. Look, your extra-points prisoner is about to join us. We deserve ale.”

  Demoray jerked his head up, raised a hand to fight, looked around and realized he was on a spacecraft, then plunked his head back down with a sigh of relief.

  Wilson continued, “You know, he wasn’t too bad out there. I don’t believe a single shot hit anything, but he sure was game.”

  “ He had an affection for the sword. Too bad we had to leave it.”

  Wilson leaned over. “You mean this sword?” He pulled Demoray’s blade out from behind him.

  “Wow! You have truly outdone yourself, sir.”

  My other knee finally came all the way up. Wilson smirked and gave me a knowing nod.

  Demoray looked left and right and spoke. “What happened? If it’s bad don’t tell me.”

  I tilted my chin forward to get a better look at him. “We’re on a ship headed for Earth. We’re about to drink a bunch of beers.”

  Still flat on his back, he looked over at me. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a week. What kind of beer is it?”

  Wilson blurted out a laugh. “My god, he’s even got a sense of humor. He may be worthy of we musketeers after all.”

  I made an effort and managed to push and pull myself to my feet.

  “You’re not leaving?” said Wilson. “I was just beginning to enjoy our little after-the-battle blog.”

  “I’m going to get the beers.”

  “Oh, well, carry on then. We’ll meet you in the med lab.”

  “A quick visit to the flight deck is necessary.”

  I staggered off and passed through the sleeper compartments section to find the atmosphere that awaited me in the habitat module was unlike any I had ever experienced. Patrick, Catherine, and Emma were standing there together by the conference table having the most intense conversation any family could have. At least, that was my first impression. They were a family now, and as I entered, they stopped and stared with a reverence I knew I would never deserve.

  Patrick spoke. “Adrian, my god, you did it!” He held his daughter by the arm as though he feared she would be taken again.

  “We did it, you guys. But we’re not home yet.”

  I tried to duck past, but Emma caught me with her free hand. “You don’t know…” She choked off.

  “Believe me, I have a good idea.”

  She began again. “I would have died.”

  “Nothing here now but family and friends, Emma. You were worth it.”

  “And I need to thank the other man who brought me here. His name is Wilson?”

  “It’s okay, Emma. I’ll pass it along.”

  “But he risked his life, too.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up with him on the way home. He’s a really special guy, but don’t tell him I said that. And let me give you a tip. If you ever hear him say, ‘Now I don’t want any trouble,’ it’s already too late. Hit the deck or take cover. All hell is about to break loose.”

  She let me go and hugged her father. Catherine gave me a knowing smile. I escaped to the forward airlock and into the engineering section. R.J. was sitting at his station.

  I slapped him on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”

  “Oh, you know, just passing time.”

  “Radar’s clear?”

  “Nothing to see here. Your face is still black, by the way.”

  “I really am black and blue, believe me.” I smiled and went forward. On the flight deck, I stooped over to get a look at the instruments.

  Danica looked up. “Thank god.”

  “No one in pursuit, I hear.”

  “No, but the ship took a dozen or so hits while we were on the ground. You may want to go outside for a look.”

  “Pressurization?”

  “No problems, but no idea how the skin is out there.”

  “No stopping and no excursions. We don’t want to give anyone any chance to catch up. What’s your course?”

  “It’s not direct. It’s set up so we can tack home. Nobody will be able to plot our flight path to show them where we’re going.”

  “Very impressive, Ms. Donoro. I salute you.”

  “Is everyone alive in the back?”

  “Everyone and then some.”

  “Is anyone hurt?”

  “Just knocked around some. I’m heading back there to have a medicinal beer or two, if it’s okay with you. Then I’ll come and relieve you, poor dear.”

  “Watch who you’re calling 'poor dear,' dirty-face.”

  “That was a hell of a launch off that ball, Dan.”

  “Wilson wouldn’t let us leave.”

  “The man is a terminator.”

  “You really do owe him that beer.”

  I squeezed Danica’s shoulder and headed back. R.J. stopped me.

  “Adrian, we need to talk. Where you going?”

  “Back to drink beers with Wilson. It’s medicinal, you understand. You stay here and keep an eye out, okay?”

  “I’d say you guys deserve a beer, at the least.”

  “If you see any ships on long range, scream out? And go ahead and transmit that stolen XiTau data to Earth, in case we don’t make it.”

  “Wilco. Is everybody really okay back there?”

  “I think so. I’ll bring you back one of those beers.”

  I managed to get by the new family with only a wave, and continued back to the battle-weary. I found them in the med lab in not quite as good shape as they had pretended to be. Wilson was applying salve to plasma burns on both forearms. Demoray was wrapping them as he went. Demoray’s eyes were beginning to blacken, and there was a burned hole in one pant leg I had not noticed before.

  “Did that reach the skin?” I asked, staring down at it.

  “Just a touch. I’ll get to it in a minute,” said Demoray.

  I looked at Wilson’s arms. “How deep are they?”

  “Not too bad I think. Didn’t feel them at all while it was going on.”

  Demoray paused and looked at me. “What’a you got? You got some. I know it.”

  “Nothing that’ll give me bragging rights. But I do have pain killer.” I reached down and pulled up a floor plate that covered the refrigerated storage. Inside, I drew out half a dozen Red Moon beers, left there previously by another medical doctor.

  With the floor plate replaced, we pulled out the counter stools and found the best places to slouch or put feet up. Wilson made the toast.

  “To the successful rescue of a fair maiden and the newest member of our 'Mission Impossible' team.”

  We held up our bottles, clinked them, and sat back, smiling at each other for no particular reason.

  Demoray asked, “I don’t get it. Why’d they come after us with most of their weapons on stun?”

  Wilson swallowed his gulp and answered. “There was so many of ‘em, they didn’t think we had a chance. They’re so used to rounding slaves up it was probably the standard routine. They wouldn’t want to kill any valuable property, after all. They were very well organized, but not very experienced, not at all-out warfare anyway. There were two or three that were pretty game. One or two of them did fire kill shots. That’s how I got the burns through my sleeve armor.”

  The three of us shared a somber moment and drank.

  Finally I couldn’t resist. “So Wilson, about that alien janitor lady in the restroom…”

  “That should never ever be spoken of again, Adrian.” He quickly changed the subject. “Christopher, how’d you wind up going from CEO to slave?”

  “I owe it all to a bastard back on Earth, one I’m looking forward to tracking down when I get home.”

  Wilson raised his bottle again. “Here, here.” He took a long drink.

  Demoray continued, “One of my companies handles the technicians who do spacecraft processing at the space center. This high-powered jerk wanted to highjack somebody’s spacecraft. There was no way he could pull it off withou
t my techs, so he kept trying to convince me it was in my best interest to look the other way. I refused.” Demoray paused, took a drink, and stared off in thought for a moment. “His people began bumping into me out in public with intimidating comments, or I’d get calls on phone lines that he shouldn’t have known about. Of course, I turned it over to the law. They were very interested, but didn’t seem anxious to do much about it. Finally the messages became too threatening. I was going to demand police protection. Long story short, I went to bed and woke up on one of Blackwell’s buddies' spacecraft on my way to XiTau.”

  I almost choked on my drink. “Who did that to you?”

  “A guy named Blackwell. He was after a ship that was in the news a while back, the Griffin, and he didn’t care what he had to do to get it.”

  Wilson jerked forward and spit his drink back into his bottle. “What the hell?”

  I gave a muted laugh. “Christopher, by the way, welcome aboard the Griffin.”

  We stared at each other in disbelief. Demoray waited to see if it was a joke. “How can it be?” he asked. “It’s impossible.”

  Wilson kicked back. “It’s a message from God, it is.”

  Demoray looked at me.

  “Oh no, don’t look at me. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

  Wilson persisted. “Plain as day. Don’t you guys get it? Chris, my man, the ship you refused to sell out came and rescued you back home.”

  “I think I need another beer,” said Demoray.

  I held my celebration to one beer, and let the other two polish off the rest. We assigned the last sleeper cell to Demoray and broke up. They headed for the horizontal. I took a moment to clean up and change, then went forward to relieve Danica. R.J. was waiting at the conference table.

  “Where’s my beer?” he asked.

  “I was thinking a little bit later. I just popped a detox. I got to give Danica a break.”

  “Who’s the new guy?”

  “He was scheduled for the same radiation mines that I was. Seems like a damn nice fellow, too.”

  “How’d you get him out?”

  “Long story, an interesting one you’ll appreciate. By the way, I just thought of it, sorry about your diamonds.”