Pew! Pew! - Sex, Guns, Spaceships... Oh My!

by M. D. Cooper

  Nikili’s net caught Hook’s salvager. She let out a breath. “Recalculating for second round.” With most of the CITs out of danger, her attention shifted to saving Vanth. “Hang on,” she whispered. “Help is on the way.”

  E51 sent standard emergency procedure messages to the spacecraft remaining in peril.

  “Second wave of torpedoes in three, two, one.” Nikili’s fingers hit command after command, firing weapons, ordering Hueys, checking on CITs.

  The second volley of plasma torpedoes lit up the heavens. The chunk of ice reflected the explosions in a glittery array. Where the impacts hit, the ice expanded outward and refroze, spreading into a thinner mist, creating gossamer wings. It altered the ice rock’s trajectory, shifting it farther away from Vanth. One thin wing dipped into the atmosphere of Vanth. It fell as rain. No Vanth-born Outling had ever tasted rain. The harbor masters yelled and laughed, praising Nikili and her team. Residents ran out of the cities, splashing in the downpour.

  The celebration would have to wait for Nikili. A transport remained in trouble. Chaquita moaned on the floor, pointing at its identification code.

  “That’s the transport to Rhea,” she croaked. Her lips had dried and were splitting. Spaceships were harsh that way.

  Blood drained from Nikili’s face, numbing her cheeks. She signaled SO8. “Hook? Are you okay? Answer me.”

  His voice was strained, but he was less out of breath. “I’m fine.”

  “Saverna is in trouble. CIT SR78QVT9.”

  His gulp was loud enough to scare an alien, if any existed. “How long until we can intercept?”

  Dispatch cut in, muting her conversation. Nikili could barely hear herself.

  “That was the opening act,” the dispatch agent said. “The tip of the iceberg. Literally.”

  Live video came on the gel glass screen sent from the space telescope at Eris. A slab of ice the size of Jupiter tumbled with an entourage of smaller chunks. When its massive broad plains spun into the right position, it cut contact with the communications hub at Eris.

  “The big slab has an atmosphere.” Dispatch sounded light years away.

  Nikili rubbed at an ear. It didn’t seem possible for her to feel colder, but she did, suppressing a shudder that left her fingers shivering. She shoved them into her jacket pockets. “Is-is it headed for Orcus? Th-the Rhea transport?” There weren’t enough photo plasma torpedoes to take it out; not enough nets to catch folks in peril; not enough juice in the planetary deflectors to send it away.

  “We dodged that asteroid bullet,” dispatch said, “but Saturn is smack in its path. Calculations put Titan and Rhea on death watch.”

  Nikili couldn’t swallow. “You’ll have to stop it.” She had no idea how. “Right now, I have a daughter to save. Hook?”

  “The ice will reach the transport before you,” dispatch said.

  Nikili stared at the calculations. “You can’t be right.” She wouldn’t believe him.

  “There’s another way.” Hook managed to override dispatch. “Let’s hitch a ride on the Spaceberg and get Saverna.”

  “Spaceberg?” A chuckle snorted out of Nikili’s nose. “Good name for it. Roger that.” She tried to smile at Lucy and failed, her chin quivering. “I’ll get on the Salvager with Hook. You can take the Huey to safety.”

  “There’s no time. For better or worse, we’re a team.”

  “Sounds like a proposal.”

  Shrugging, Lucy laughed; a dry laugh that stabbed at the stale air in the cockpit. “We said ‘I do’ the minute we stepped onto ORS 51.”

  “Yeah.” Nikili prodded Chaquita with a toe. “What about her?”

  “I’m in.” Chaquita winced, moaning with each word. “Must go after Saverna.”

  “Come on board Vulture,” Hook said. “It’ll be easier to land one ship on the ice than two.”

  “Dispatch,” Nikili said, “when you think up a plan, we’ll be on the Spaceberg. If we come up with one, we’ll be in touch.”

  “Landing on that thing is suicide.” Dispatch sent the specs on the enormous slab of ice. “It’s moving fast, spinning faster.”

  “Understood. We’ll take it from here,” Nikili said. “You’re not responsible.” She cut the comm. link with Eris and reeled in the photon net with Hook caught in the middle of it. “Ready to disengage, SO8?”

  “Yeah, I’m ready. Vulture, remain in position and ready to dock ORS 51.”

  Every second passed with Nikili’s heart pounding. The wait would kill her, would kill her daughter. “E51, connect to the Rhea transport.”

  “Dispatch is responding to their distress call and blocking other communication.”

  “I can get you through.” Chaquita managed to sit up, panting from the pain of multiple zaps from Lucy’s striker.

  “Daughter of a wind fart.” Nikili helped her. “Do it. I want to speak to Saverna.”

  “I do, too.”

  “If you hadn’t sent the ship off early-”

  “Dastardly as it was, it gives the transport a fighting chance.” Chaquita pointed at the current flight path versus if the transport had left on time. “If they had left when scheduled, they wouldn’t have any chance.”

  The corners of Nikili’s eyes narrowed. “It excuses nothing.”

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry. It was an asshole thing to do. Whether you believe it or not, I’ve come to care about Saverna. A lot.”

  “Maybe I’m wrong about you.” Nikili held out a hand. “Let’s work together from now on.”

  “Agreed.” Chaquita shook.

  “If not…” Lucy patted the striker holstered to her thigh.

  “You’re twisted.” Chaquita used her harbor master credentials to hack into the transport’s communications system. “This is Orcus Harbor. Report.”

  “An asteroid is coming straight at us,” the captain said. “It’s a cluster of rocks, not one solid piece. I can’t avoid all of it.”

  “Do your best,” Chaquita replied. “ORS is on its way.”

  “You can’t fit a transport full of people onto a Huey.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Nikili answered. “We’ve a salvager as well. You only need to worry about minimizing damage until we arrive.”

  “I’m on it, ORS 51.”

  “May we stay connected while you do?” Nikili rubbed at the back of her neck. She had to know whether Saverna and the transport survived the initial impact. She had to know how bad the transport would suffer. “Remember what I taught you, baby,” she whispered under her breath.

  “ORS 51 is fully docked with Vulture,” E51 reported.

  Nikili blew out a breath. “Hook, get us moving. We’ll join you in flight control on the salvager.”

  “Roger. Doors are open.”

  She grabbed onto the ladder and slid down.

  Chapter 10

  Hook grabbed the live communications feed with the transport and piped it over to Vulture. “Hang on, baby girl.” He swiped a trickle of blood off his forehead. The spinning salvager had done worse to him than a wet noodle. Thank the solar winds for Nikili.

  Two medic bots clustered at his feet, probing him, pricking his skin with medications. “Shoo!” He kicked them out of the way and trotted to the hatch connecting Vulture with ORS 51.

  The idea of seeing Nikili always quickened his pulsed. He pulled the clip from his bangs and combed his fingers through them. Straightening his shirt, he struck a nonchalant pose against the wall opposite the hatch.

  A control on the hatch switched to green. The door slid open. A grin spread on his cheeks. It dropped the moment Chaquita stepped out.

  “Darling.” He reached for her hand and kissed her cheek. “How unexpected.” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “I was with Nikili when the emergency alarm went off. I couldn’t leave you out here in trouble.”

  “You’d be safer on Orcus.”

  “I can’t be safe when you and Saverna aren’t. We’re family.” Her gaze searched his and the corners of her mou
th flattened. She was as determined a woman as Hook’s first wife.

  Nikili brushed past the two of them without a word and took command of flight control.

  Hook trotted after her. “Vulture is my ship.”

  “We’ll argue as much as you like later. Right now, we have to figure out how to hitch a ride on that iceberg and get our Saverna out of danger.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it—“

  “So have I. There’s no point to anything if you and Saverna don’t survive.” She brushed a strand of dark hair behind an ear slightly too clunky for her otherwise refined features. She resembled an exotic elf. A tall and broad one.

  Hook stared at her lush lips, as mesmerized by their movement now as when they first met. That they spoke of saving him and their daughter put some warmth in his heart. Other things tingled, too. “What have you in mind?”

  Chaquita came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He tore his focus away from Nikili’s mouth and put it on the star charts and the continuously updating information on Spaceberg.

  “Right now, Spaceberg is pushing debris ahead of it. We need to get into that current and get to the transport as soon as possible.”

  “What about those in danger from Spaceberg?”

  “Yes,” Chaquita cooed. “What about them?”

  “One thing at a time.” Nikili’s exotic amber gaze raked over Chaquita and Hook. “We can be adults, right?

  Heat rose into his cheeks, and Hook peeled Chaquita’s arms off his waist.

  “We must commit to what it takes to rescue those in the path of Spaceberg, but Saverna comes first. What meaning does the Sol have without her?” Her brows steeped with the knot furrowing her forehead.

  For the first time in years, Hook saw a shadow of his former wife, of the love she once shared with him and Saverna. “We’re in total agreement,” he said.

  “Who cut a noodle?” Chaquita chuckled. “The universe is ending.”

  Hook squeezed her arm. “No games.”

  “You like my games.”

  Usually he did. Her games had kept him and Saverna in air and water rations; had grown his profits and business. She never hid her emotions. “Set them on Saverna.”

  “I’ve no other thoughts. Honest.” She patted his hand and went over to Nikili, studying the data on the gel glass monitor. “Tell me how to help.”

  “Track the open comm. channel with the transport,” Nikili said. “Keep me informed as to what they’re dealing with.”

  “Absolutely, especially if I hear anything about our girl.”

  To her credit, Nikili didn’t make a face. She kept working the charts and the information E51 provided. “Hook, you watch for wayward debris headed our way. Lucy, you figure out how best we rescue the souls on the transport.”

  “And you?” Chaquita looped an earphone into place.

  “She’s going to pilot Vulture,” Hook answered.

  “I’m glad you’re not fighting me.” Nikili sat in the command chair. The arm reached up and locked around her wrist. Vulture put the salvager controls at her command.

  “If we and Saverna are to survive, we need the best pilot.” He took the seat beside her. “I’d let no one else’s hands on my joystick.”

  “There’s no joy in it, sailor.” Nikili maneuvered Vulture into the currents pushing at the debris in front of Spaceberg. The salvager lurched with the force of the Spaceberg’s push. Two more wobbles and Nikili compensated, guiding Vulture smoothly through the ether at a speed faster than the engines could generate alone.

  For a moment, Hook watched the Sol zip by in a rush he may never experience again. The blur of the stars and Za’ha’dum caught in his gut. It stopped his breath, and he enjoyed the rush longer than he should have. A warning alarm from Vulture put his gaze back on the scanners.

  A sheet of ice the size of two cities on Orcus raced toward the salvager. Another zoomed straight at them from another direction. Hook fed the course corrections to Nikili. He swiped at his forehead with the back of his wrist.

  Quiet as the hush settling over flight control on Vulture, Chaquita relayed the latest from the transport to Rhea. “It’s been hit. Gravity has been destabilized. They’ve had a hull breech.”

  “Can we go any faster?” he asked.

  Nikili rubbed at the back of her neck.

  Hook’s gut sank into a pit of knots.

  Chapter 11

  The transport tumbled, the content of Saverna’s stomach. Her head smacked against something hard, and her leg against something harder. Another something whammed into her stomach before drifting off in the other direction. She bounced down, up, sideways, and end over end. She had no idea which way was up.

  Gravity kicked in. Something landed on top of her. It moaned. A someone. Alarms screeched. Warning holograms filled the observation deck. Too many to read; too many to be good.

  She tested her fingers then her toes. Her neck moved okay. The rest of her was squished under somebody who wouldn’t move.

  “Hey,” she said, twisting and kicking. Moving stirred up a nasty jab of pain, and she felt sick again. Inhaling sharply, she lay still, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “Hello?” She could barely hear herself. “Hello?” she said louder.

  “Yeah.” It was a male voice. “Saverna?” He had Qeb’s deep bass and accent.

  Why didn’t anyone else answer? There had been forty people on the observation deck. Something warm and sticky soaked Saverna’s back. The scent of copper was unmistakable.

  “I’m stuck,” she said. “Can you help me?”

  “On my way,” Qeb said. He shuffled and tripped. His steps halted. “We crashed. The alarms say critical. Hull breach.” His syllables grew increasingly unsteady.

  “One thing at a time. Help me first then we’ll figure everything else out.”

  The weight eased off Saverna with a thud. A knee clad in soft gray knelt before her. She glanced up. Qeb had a black eye and he clutched an arm to his chest.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Unsure.” She tested her limbs and felt along her ribs, wincing. Every lesson her mother had given her sprang to mind. She couldn’t help him or anyone until she took care of herself.

  Saverna sat up. Lifting her shirt, she examined the damage along her side. There was a welt and bruising. She took a deep breath, then another. The pain didn’t increase, which was a good sign. She tested her range of motion, twisting side to side, lifting one arm then the other. Best guess, she hadn’t sustained a rib fracture. “I’ll be okay.”

  Qeb continued to rub his right arm above the elbow.

  Saverna wrinkled her nose. “What about you? What happened to your arm?”

  “It’s not broken.” He twisted, revealing a bloodied sleeve. Pushing it up, he showed a deep gash. The blood flow wasn’t gushing, which meant his artery hadn’t been nicked.

  “We need to get you bandaged up.”

  “And your leg.” He nodded at her left thigh.

  Someone’s chopsticks stuck out of it. Blood rushed from Saverna’s face; the observation deck whirled. She inhaled deeply through her nose. “Well.” She took another breath and examined the wound. It wasn’t bleeding. “It’s best to leave the chopsticks. Removing them could rupture the artery.”

  Her gaze darted around the topsy-turvy room. Bodies sprawled among the remains of the buffet table, chairs, and telescopes. The sniffles of sobs poked at her ears.

  “I can help. Everyone needs help.” She struggled to rise.

  Qeb placed a hand on her arm to keep her still. “We can’t help anyone until we take care of ourselves.”

  He sounded like her mom. The exact person Saverna needed right now. She patted her chest, seeking her comm. badge. Like everyone else in the Sol, she wore it on a lanyard. Her fingers shook, making it difficult to signal her mother. Finally, she hit the right icon. The call wouldn’t connect. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

  “The accident
probably damaged the antennae.” Qeb pushed at her badge until she tucked it back under her shirt.

  “Let’s get to rescuing ourselves, then.” She fished in her pocket for her Guyver Everything Tool. It included a plasma cutter and duct tape.

  “If I’m not bleeding, I shouldn’t risk bleeding.” Saverna used the cutter to slice the chopsticks close to her skin. The less it protruded, the less it would catch on things and make the wound worse. The duct tape held what remained in place. “I have a med kit in my room. We should get it.” She struggled to her feet, wincing for herself and the nasty wound on Qeb’s arm. His eye was swelling shut, too.

  The relative quiet ended. People groaned and cried. The floor looked funny. It had lights and was domed instead of flat. She squinted at the countless holographic alerts flashing throughout the observation deck. One mentioned damage to the gravity generators. “We’re standing on the ceiling? How is that possible? If gravity came back on—”

  “Don’t think about it too much.” Qeb pointed at her head. “You banged your noggin pretty good, too.”

  Saverna’s fingers found a lump at her temple. Her skin was wet and sticky. When she pulled her fingers away, they were covered in crimson. “There has to be a first aid kit in here somewhere. It’s regulation.”

  Ignoring the projected holo alarms blaring with what was wrong with the transport, she limped to the nearest door. It was sealed and locked, but had a safety alcove with a fire extinguisher and an axe. Above the axe gleamed a first aid kit. Yanking it off the wall, Saverna returned to Qeb.

  She dressed his arm, applied ice spray to his eye, and jabbed him with a dose of painkiller. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  He shook his head and helped her wrap a bandage around her ribs. After he sprayed her temple with the instant ice, she inhaled a course of antibiotics and took a painkiller.

  “Now for the others.” She scanned the bodies on the floor. Some didn’t move. She held a breath.

  “You get started,” Qeb said. “I’m going to read the alerts and see what we’re up against. I’ll try to raise the flight crew.”

  She should have thought of those things. Her head ached and she rubbed at the lump at her temple. Tired and nauseous, she wanted to rest. How could she when she was so much better off than most of the passengers on the observation deck?