by Zach Winderl
“We don’t need anything near that big. We just need a small pop that will trip some sensors. I want something that will look like an accident and leave the mercs more worried about fixing up their ship than the need for revenge.”
As he finalized the plans with Shi, a thin girl in her early teens wandered into the lounge from the elevator. She planted herself before the self-serve bar and perused the options. Long, deft fingers worried at a thick blue and purple braid that hung over one shoulder, contrasting with the shaved scalp on the other side of her head. The girl stuck the tip of the braid in her mouth and chewed for a moment before making a selection and taking the proffered juice. As she turned back to the room, she caught sight of Margo.
Bouncing on the arm of the couch in lieu of a horse, with her fingers cocked as blasters, Margo noticed the girl watching. Freezing, the toddler returned the studied stare. Then with a squeal of joy she pulled the jacket from her head and clambered down to hug the girl’s legs.
Atom watched the interaction with interest.
“You ever find Lilly?” Shi asked.
“I did.” Atom shook his head and waved the girl over to join him. “Just have By ready to suit and float on my word. I’m not sure of the exact timing yet.”
“Aye, cap,” she said and closed the com.
“Interesting get-up.” Atom studied Lilly as she shed the upper half of her grungy coveralls and tied the arms around her waist.
Lilly set her juice on the table and scooped Margo into her arms. She flopped back into the empty couch beside Atom and with teenage disdain kicked her feet up on the table. “Interesting? More like uninteresting. I’ve found this age group is one of the easiest ways to avoid detection. Young teens are old enough to not warrant close supervision, and young enough to blend into the background most of the time.
“This girl’s name is Tilt. I’m not sure why.” Lilly retrieved her cup as she crossed her legs to create a comfortable cradle for Margo to sit in. Lifting her cup to Atom with a smile, she drained the contents. Then, like a true teen, she jammed the cup between the cushions of the couch. “But I’m guessing this will do exactly what we need.”
“Did you kill her?” Atom asked in a low voice.
“Nope.” Shaking her head, Lilly giggled and tickled Margo under the chin. “I shot her up with seds and tucked her away in my room.
“I’m guessing we’ll be done with our bit by the time she even thinks about waking up. Speaking of which.” The smile drifted from her face and a mature, business-like demeanor took hold. “What’s the plan and what’s my part in all this? I trusted you enough to go through the trouble of an ident-jump in the middle of what’ll probably end in all our deaths.”
“Just a little stroll….”
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for more.
“On their ship,” Atom concluded.
Lilly stared at Atom, trying to work the angles out. “Am I a plant?” She played with her braid with nervous fingers, flipping the end around and popping it in her mouth to chew on.
“Not really.” Atom glanced around the room. “No need for you to stay. I just need one thing . . . an open hatch.
“Do that, slip off, and we should each walk peaceably back to our own ships and burn for the Black on our own courses and never see each other again. We part on friendly terms, avoid a stand-up fight, and live.”
“Think it’ll work?”
“No idea.” Atom chuckled. “But we’re too outnumbered for anything else.
Lilly spit her braid out. “Yeah, I guess this seems the least suicidal path forward. At least this way there’s a chance they don’t toss us all out a lock.
“And your head is just too darn pretty for that.” She pulled Margo close, rubbing noses with the girl, until she looked up with a start. “But what’s to keep them from popping a torp up our pipes on our outward burn?”
“I’m hoping the other ships will follow suit so we’re just part of a scattering burn.” A weak smile pulled at Atom’s face. “Otherwise we’d better hope they’re too drunk to aim.”
“Just one hatch, I can do that. What’s the timing?”
“Sit on the aft airlock.” Atom rose to his feet and collected Margo from Lilly. “I’ll set everything in motion with the other caps. You just be ready for a knock on that door and then slip back up here before the dust up. I want to make sure we all head to our ships at the same time so the mercs don’t get spooked by someone popping seal early.”
Lilly looked up at Atom as she weighed her option. “And there’s no way we just ride this out?”
“You’ve seen the station. They won’t leave any survivors, if they have a say.”
Understanding and resignation forced her smile away. “We were dead when our feet hit the deck of this station.”
Atom nodded and strolled away.
***
The plan rolled into motion and like an experienced conductor, Atom orchestrated and adjusted as the players moved about. Only when the station’s klaxons began screaming did he rise from his table, take a last sip of his reka, and load Margo into the pram. Then, as the other ‘guests’ in the lounge panicked and flew about like a gaggle of disrupted geese, Atom strolled to the lift. He waited only a few moments for the doors to admit them and then he closed out the cacophony of the lounge.
“How is the plan proceeding?” he asked Kozue as they descended.
“It seems to be proceeding as predicted. My scans show most of the mercenaries headed for their ship as we speak.”
“Most?” The lift doors parted to a rapture-like scene. The dining room of the inn sat empty, tables overflowing with glasses and plates, chairs overturned, and soft music amplifying the stillness.
“There seem to be a dozen mercs doubling back to the inn.”
“What, they didn’t get the memo on the emergency procedures? A shipboard emergency means all-call and that means everyone,” he growled, as he maneuvered through the jumbled mess of the dining room. “I was hoping to avoid any awkward farewell scenes.”
Atom eased out the entrance, moving with cautious steps into the empty street beyond. “At least we visited the baths.” He leaned down and tickled Margo’s neck.
“Da, ‘top it,” she giggled, scrunching against his fingers.
“Did By and Shi get home safe?”
“Firm. The mercenaries appear—”
Captain Julien Anders rounded the far corner, hands thrust deep in his pockets as if out for a relaxing stroll. With his head cocked to the side, he stared up at the synth-sky that glowed a ruddy, evening skyscape from some far-off planet. Behind him his contingent of lieutenants and select muscle filled the street.
Atom pulled up short as the group halted a dozen paces away.
Anders pulled a capsule from his pocket, slipped it in his mouth, and cracked the casing with an audible pop. He inhaled sharply, held his breath for a moment, and then blew out a haze of heavy smoke. He spat the used plastic on the ground.
“Evening, gentlekin,” Atom called out as if pleasantly surprised to see Anders.
Lifting his scowl, Anders popped another capsule in his mouth and wreathed his head in smoke. “Seems someone’s been messing with my ship.” He pulled a third capsule and held it in his palm a moment before tossing it back. “And here I showed nothing but hospitality and courtesy when I let you pass peaceable-like.
“Why’d you have to go and do a thing like that?” he sucked at his teeth and spit out another cartridge to bounce at his feet. “It upsets me something fierce.”
Atom followed the motion, measuring the situation.
Instinct slipped his hand to his empty holster. Rolf caught the sleight of hand and grinned as he patted Atom’s rail pistol tucked in the front of his belt.
Atom froze.
As one, his eyes, shoulders, and weathered brown coat drooped in surrender. His gaze fell to Margo as she sat in the suspensor pram, watching and waiting with defiant intensity.
“Tsk, tsk,” Anders
chided, taking a step towards Atom. “And now you aim to draw on me? What’s the Black coming to? A man wanders in, looking for a room and a bed, then he has the gall to turn on them as offered the helping hand.
“Boys, go collect the other guests.” He turned his back on Atom and waved his underlings away. They skirted Atom and the pram to enter the inn.
Johansen and Nezumi remained.
“I aim to leave peaceably.” Atom straightened his coat and his shoulders. “No sense in causing a stir. You leave Fiver and me out of this and you can keep the rail-pistol. It’s worth a pretty sum.”
“Now you’re bargaining?” Anders whipped back.
“Beats dying.” Atom hooked a thumb in his belt.
The merc gave a slow nod of understanding.
“Problem is, I keep the pistol whether you live or die, so it don’t count as much of a chip. Neither does your boat.” Anders turned to Nezumi who trembled like a rabid tweaker. “Keep eyes on him. I told you earlier that he was dangerous and this quiet father act is worse than if he would just come out and fight.
“What’s taking so long?” he yelled to Rolf, who stood in the inn door.
“They’re coming now,” the patched man replied.
As if on cue, a group of mercs, led by Oli, herded the guests out into the street. Like cowed sheep they gathered around Atom.
“Koze, can you control the pram?” Atom asked as a plan drifted about his mind.
“Firm, what do you have in mind?”
“We’ll see,” Atom scanned the guests clustering around him. “Just follow my lead.”
“Where’s the tumbler?” Anders demanded as Igs ducked through the inn doors carrying a motionless form in his arms. “And what in the void are you doing with Tilt?
“She’s not dead, is she?” Anders pressed forward, shoving the last stragglers out of the way to get to where Igs stood cradling the girl against his chest like a tiny kitten. He inspected the girl, feeling for both pulse and breath.
“Who did this?” he demanded in a dangerous tone as he spun to face down the small crowd pressed around Atom. “I’ll kill every single one of you.
“I don’t care if you had anything to do with this.” His eyes flew wide with rage as he drew his blaster, aiming it with wild abandon into the flock of hapless bystanders. “Nobody lays a hand on my crew and expects to live. I was going to give each of you a chance to live.” He stepped forward. “But not anymore.”
Everyone crumpled to the ground, expecting blaster fire to rip into them. Only Atom remained standing. Around him a field of whimpering voices sprang up.
“Was it you?” a chill crept into Anders voice like frost across a windowpane.
Atom stared back with impassive defiance.
Reining in his anger, Anders advanced another step. The mercenary captain locked eyes with Atom, and he dropped his pistol to his side as he sized up the lanky captain.
A slight smile pulled at Atom’s cheek. He raised his hand in a childish mockery of a pistol and aimed it at Anders’ head. With exaggerated slowness he fired and slipped the pistol back into his empty holster. Atom repeated the process as if in a finger gunfight.
A shudder ran through Ander’s frame as he tried to control the laughter welling up inside. For a moment he maintained his composure, then the laughter erupted into a gale-forced bellow. Wiping a tear from his eye, he doubled over and propped himself on his knees. Behind him the rest of his crew stood in uncertain silence.
“Can you believe this guy?” he laughed over his shoulder to the crew.
For a moment they remained silent, but then the infectious laughter rippled through their ranks.
“How about your life for my ship and safe passage out of here?” Atom asked.
Anders wiped another tear from his eye. His shoulders continued to convulse as he fought to regain his composure, but he rose to take in Atom’s steely gaze. The gunslinger dropped his mock pistol to his side and returned the gun to the holster with an imaginary flourish.
“You’re bargaining with my life now?” The laughter threatened to overtake Anders again. “You have nothing. Are you planning to throw the pram at me?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Atom drifted the pram closer to himself until it bumped against his hip like a ship moored against a pier. With a light caress he stroked the handle. “I have all I need right here. What do you say, Anders? I let you live and my daughter and I walk away from here and never look back.”
Anders looked at Atom, as if trying to understand a foreign language.
“Follow my lead,” Atom whispered and then he turned his attention and finger pistol back to Anders. “Last chance.”
Anders shook his head.
Before he could open his mouth to reply Atom pulled the trigger on his finger pistol one final time. In the same moment the turbo-blaster dropped from the bottom of the pram and fired. The bolt caught Anders just below the eye, snapping his head back and knocking him from his feet to land in a heap before his crew.
Slapping the handle of the pram triggered a hidden compartment and Atom reached down just in time to catch a pistol as it dropped. The turbo laser fully spun into action even as Atom whipped the pistol up and fired. The mercenaries scattered.
Atom’s first shot blew out Nezumi’s knee as he turned to run. The skittish lieutenant dropped, all bravado gone as he clawed his way through the debris of the space station.
Behind Atom, Kozue guided the pram’s targeting and laid down a barrage.
The narrow street erupted into a blazing firefight as the mercenaries began taking pot-shots from cover. In the pram, Margo ducked low and followed the fight with just her eyes peeking over the armored rim of the death machine.
Stalking forward, disregarding the scattered return shots, Atom made for the shattered storefront where Rolf had taken refuge. He ducked into the alcove of the next store and hugged the metal wall as he spun the cylinder on his pistol to check the load. Ducking and darting, he plunged through the empty window on Rolf’s blind-side. Atom hit the patched man with a gut shot before he registered his presence. Rolf groaned as he sank to his knees. Cocking his head to take in Atom with his good eye, the mercenary’s glare fused hatred and pain into a palpable force.
Gasping through the pain, the patched merc tried to lift his auto-pistol.
“I told you that was a family heirloom,” Atom spoke without anger. “It would have been nice if we could have just walked away.”
Rolf grunted a stream of blood. He squeezed his trigger, but only managed a wild shot that punched into the floor near Atom’s feet. Atom shook his head. He gave the man a sad smile as he slipped the pram pistol into the holster at the back of his belt. Bending low, he pulled his rail-pistol from Rolf’s belt and checked the condition.
He spun the cylinder on his palm, a quick check for dirt and grime. Then he pressed the muzzle to Rolf’s forehead.
“I’m sorry it came to this.” He nodded and pulled the trigger.
As the body collapsed, Atom noted the silence outside.
He stepped back out into the street. Like tumbleweed in Tombstone, the mercenaries had disappeared. Only Johansen remained. He stood motionless in the center of the street beside Anders’ body with his thumbs hooked in his belt.
“Is it my time?” Johansen sounded bored. He stared at the body.
Surveying the street, Atom counted four dead beyond Anders. Nezumi curled in a whimpering ball against a wall, clutching his ruined knee.
“Depends on your intentions.” Atom held his rail-pistol at his side as he wandered over to stand before Johansen. “It’s been my aim to walk away. I’ve no direct quarrel with your people, you just happened to cross my path at a bad time. I still aim to leave. Whether you stand in my way or not is up to you.”
Atom turned away. He walked to Oli’s sprawled body and retrieved his backup pistol. He tucked it in the front of his belt.
He glared at Nezumi, who lay just beyond the dead merc. “You still itchi
ng to stick me?” he growled at the whimpering man. “I could have tossed a bullet in your pan, but figured this would send more of a message. Be careful who you aim to tussle with. And, by the void, listen to your captain when he tells you to steer clear.”
Shaking like a chilled chihuahua, Nezumi curled tighter into himself.
Turning back, Atom holstered his rail-pistol and flipped down his brown coat. As he walked back to the pram he called out. “What’s the word?”
“Something tells me it ain’t safe for me aboard my ship.” Johansen tracked Atom’s movements, but folded his arms across his chest to keep them away from any semblance of hostility.
“You figured that?”
“Why else trip an alarm that sends an all-call?”
“It would have cleared a path to my own ship.”
Johansen chuckled and shook his head. “We would have been on you before you cleared the system.”
Atom shrugged and powered the pram towards the docks. The turbo-blaster tracked Johansen’s immobile position. “What’s your answer?”
“Peace,” Johansen said without hesitation.
“Then check your system when you’re aboard.” Atom paused to turn back to Johansen as the blaster retreated into its hidden port in the pram’s belly. “It wouldn’t have killed you, but it would have compromised a hatch and forced you to address the problem instead of following us.”
Johansen nodded. “Who are you? Anders respected you more than a true merch.”
“The name’s Atom Ulvan, Captain,” he said and strolled down the spacer’s boulevard.
“Wait,” Johansen called after him. “What do you mean ‘captain’?”
“I just removed several links from your chain of command.” Atom continued strolling away. “That should put you next in line for the chair.”
Just before turning the corner, Atom stopped and looked back. Johansen stood in the same position, but Igs, still cradling Tilt, had crept out to stand beside him like an oversized child. Atom scowled at the brooding giant.
Drawing his pistol, Atom drew a bead on the man’s forehead. Confusion stared back. “Keep a tighter leash on that one.” Atom narrowed his eyes as he studied the man. “He’s liable to get into trouble if he’s not watched. He might hurt someone that doesn’t need hurting.