The Blunt End of the Service

by L. J. Simpson

  “Let’s go,” said Penny.

  “Wait,” said Chuck, grabbing Penny by the upper arm. “This is the end of the line.”

  “We’re giving up?”

  “Not exactly. Get inside, but stay close to the wall, understand?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “Close to the wall. Off you go… and that’s an order.”

  “An order?”

  “First time for everything.”

  Dobbs was becoming frustrated. He shouldn’t let that happen, he knew, but this place was like a rabbit warren with compartments, lockers and corridors on all sides. Each one held a potential danger which forced him to slow his advance. Once or twice he’d caught a momentary glimpse of his prey but they’d disappeared through a hatch or around a corner before he’d had the chance to do anything but curse under his breath. His quarry was leaving a trail of open doors in its wake which was either very stupid or very clever. In all likelihood they were just in a hurry to escape. On the other hand, they might just be sharp enough to leave a succession of doors open and then double back and try and take him from behind as he passed by. The thought made him check his six as often as he checked in front which slowed him further.

  Where the hell was Burke? His com was offline. Damn! Dobbs paused to gather his thoughts and reflect on his situation. Undermanned to start with his only back up was nowhere to be seen which meant that he was outnumbered and therefore outgunned. There was definite danger...

  Well… so what? He was a soldier, a war-fighter! He would make his disadvantages work for him. The danger would keep him alert and make him focus on the job at hand. This is what he trained for, this is what he did! Reassured, he set off once more. Edging around a bend in the corridor he saw a head suddenly peer from a door about twenty meters ahead. He half raised his rifle but the head withdrew as quickly as it had appeared.

  Dobbs once more checked behind him before moving stealthily up to the doorway. ‘Hangar 3’ read the sign above the door. As he reached the opening he paused and listened intently but there was not a sound to be heard from inside the hangar. Whoever the head belonged to, they’d disappeared off to the left and had either fled or were waiting in ambush just inside. Dobbs gave a mental shrug. His next move would be the same either way – dive through the open door, roll into a crouch and bring his rifle to bear, all in one fluid movement.

  He took a deep breath, tensed his muscles and dived through the opening. He lowered his right shoulder but instead of rolling smoothly over on the deck-plating he found himself floating off into the empty hangar, spinning slowly as he went.

  “No gravity!” said Penny from just inside the entrance.

  “That’s right,” said Chuck. “Stay close to the wall and there’s still some residual gravity from Delta Section but once you move away…”

  Dobbs was furious with himself. He’d been briefed on the operational readiness of the station but he’d lost his bearings during the chase. That was his first mistake… and he was about to make another.

  As he continued his slow pirouette he saw Chuck and Penny pressed up against the hangar wall. He raised his rifle and loosed off a quick three round burst but without his feet planted firmly on the ground the recoil sent him spinning wildly head over heels. Chuck and Penny flinched as Dobbs’ first round went high. His second round higher still and the last round crashed into the ceiling as he cart-wheeled across the hangar. Desperate to halt his spin he flailed his arms and legs but, like Marine Burke before him, he succeeded only in committing the cardinal sin of all Marines, that of letting go of his firearm, which ended up floating almost stationary in the middle of the hangar.

  “Everything OK in there?” said a voice. Chuck and Penny turned to see Commander Jacobs and Duke Cooper peering around the door. Edging their way back to the safety of the corridor they emerged from the hangar to find Burns and Mullins also looking on as Marine Dobbs receded into the distance.

  “That’s quite a performance,” said Burns.

  “Triple back somersault with two and a half twists, if I’m not mistaken,” said Mullins.

  “Piked or in the tuck?”

  “Hard to tell from this distance. Was that a double axel?”

  “Wrong event, methinks.”

  Dobbs gave up flailing his arms and legs as he neared the far wall; it wasn’t doing any good anyway. As he turned over and over he noticed a pipe running vertically down the wall and by sheer luck he was headed almost straight for it. As it came within reach he grabbed it gratefully with both hands and pulled himself against the wall. By this time his stomach had begun to rebel so he closed his eyes for a few seconds – it usually did the trick. When he opened them again his nausea had subsided but the hangar floor seemed to be covered in lights and the door at the far end of the hanger was set high up against the ceiling, the people in the doorway standing upside down. He rotated himself through one hundred eighty degrees and his world returned to normal. He looked back at the group in the doorway – and there, still floating in mid air half way along the hangar was his Mk7 rifle. No point hanging around, he thought. Still holding onto the pipe with his hands he inched his feet up and aiming for the Mk7 as best he could he pushed off like a swimmer. This time he did it right, soaring down the hangar like a swallow, arms stretched behind him. And there, rushing towards him was his rifle, soon to be reunited with its master and together they would finish this thing once and for all. So far, so good, but strain as he might, Dobbs could only brush the butt of the rifle with his fingertips as he surged by.

  “That is good news,” said Jacobs.

  “Very,” said Chuck. “Still have to tackle him when he gets here though.”

  “I could shoot him for you,” said Penny.

  “Hmm… something tells me that might not be necessary,” murmured Jacobs.

  “Why’s that?” said Mullins

  “Haven’t you noticed…? He seems to be going a little high.”

  “Oh.” said Mullins.

  Dobbs was indeed going high. By the time he reached the other wall he was going to be very close to the ceiling – almost ten meters above the hangar door, and this time with no convenient pipe to aid him. He was still trying to figure out what to do when gravity kicked in and he dropped like a stone. He didn’t even have time to be surprised. He hit the deck hard, bounced once and lay still at Chuck and Penny’s feet.

  “I’d call that a result,” said Mullins.

  “Did you hear something crack when he landed?” said Chuck.

  “A crack? It’s a wonder he didn’t break every bone in his body,” said Penny.

  “Battle armour probably saved him,” said Jacobs. “Better get a stretcher and take him over to sick bay. Shorty’s our resident first aider – see if he can strap him up or something until we can get him over to the space elevator.”

  Ten minutes later Dobbs was strapped to a stretcher and carefully immobilised to prevent him inflicting any further damage on himself. Mullins went around the stretcher tightening each strap an extra notch to prevent Dobbs from inflicting further damage on anyone else either.

  “Where’s his buddy?” said Chuck.

  “Burke? In the brig. Ollie and Guns are keeping an eye on him.”

  “Hope he enjoys his stay as much as I did. Did he tell you anything?”

  “Name, rank and serial number is all we can get out of him.”

  “What about Jacks?”

  “Last I heard, the Arrow and two other ships were circling the station. Better check in with Archie in Ops.” A few seconds later Archie delivered his report.

  “No sign of the Arrow”, said Archie. “Must have gone while I was busy with the lights in Hangar 3. The other two vessels are moving off too.”

  “That figures. Admiral Giles will be arriving with reinforcements within the hour. Chuck… well done. You did a damned good job. Penny, you too. I’m proud of you both.”

  “It was nothing, sir,” said Penny. “Just doing our jobs.”

&nbs
p; “Don’t remember seeing any of that in my job description,” said Chuck.

  “Comes under the heading of ‘duty’.”

  “Talking of duty,” said Jacobs, “Archie’s been up in Ops all day. About time someone relieved him.”

  “We’ll go,” said Chuck. “We owe him a favour. And someone had better go and rescue Benedict from Auxiliary Reactor 4.”

  “We’ll see to that,” said Burns. “I think Benedict and I need to have a nice long chat.”

  “Fair enough,” said Jacobs. “See you all back in Alpha Section.”

  A few minutes later the door to Ops opened and Archie twisted in the chair expecting to see Chuck. Except it wasn’t Chuck, unless Chuck had suddenly grown a couple of inches and his hair had turned silver. Oh bugger, thought Archie. He reached for the com switch but before he got there his world tilted sideways and then the lights went out.

  CHAPTER 16

  “That’s funny, where’s Archie got to,” said Penny as they entered Ops. The main console was up and running but Archie was nowhere to be seen.

  “No need to worry about Archie,” said Commodore Jacks, stepping out of the shadows, gun in hand. “There are more pressing matters.”

  “How did you get in here?” said Chuck in alarm. “The station’s sealed off.”

  “Don’t be tiresome, Mr. Poulson. Did you really think this station’s archaic security system could prevent me from coming aboard? Give me a little credit, please. I can understand your friend Archie being surprised but I expected better from you.”

  “Where is he? What have you done with him?” said Chuck.

  “He’s having a bit of a lie down. I expect the excitement was just too much for him.” Jacks gestured to the far side of Ops where Archie lay prostrate, his still bare feet sticking out from behind the radar console. “Though I admit that whacking him on the back of the head may have been a contributing factor.”

  Penny’s right hand inched towards her still attached holster but Chuck shook his head and in a low voice said, “No, Pen. Bad idea.”

  “That’s very good advice, cadet. You’d do well to listen to the sub-captain. He’s brighter than he looks, you know. Now, if you would be so good as to surrender your weapons? I’m sure you know the drill – left thumbs and forefingers only, if you please. Drop them to the floor and then kick them over here. Slowly does it – I guarantee that any sudden movements will bring your day to a swift but unpleasant end.”

  Jacks watched carefully as Chuck and Penny followed his instructions. “Now,” said Jacks. “Pray tell, where is my computer core?” He waited just a brief moment before he strode over and yanked Penny towards him. He hooked one arm around her neck and pressed his pistol to the side of her head. “You have five seconds, Mr. Poulson. After which I assure you I will pull the trigger… four, three, two–”

  “Delta Section,” said Chuck. “It’s in Delta Section… Auxiliary Reactor 4.”

  “A wise decision,” said Jacks. He released his hold on Penny’s neck and then swiftly cuffed her on the side of the head with the butt of the pistol. She slithered silently to the floor. With the gun still raised Jacks calmly walked over to Chuck and with a speed and strength that belied his years, he jabbed his free hand into Chuck’s solar plexus. Chuck fell gasping to his knees, his arms wrapped around his midriff. Looking up again he found himself staring down the barrel of Jacks’ pistol; the muzzle was but a few millimeters wide but as Chuck stared, the aperture seemed to swell and widen until it swallowed up the whole of his universe.

  “I’d like to say that this isn’t personal and that I take no pleasure in it, but to be perfectly honest with you, it is… and I do. And I hate loose ends.”

  “What about the cadet,” said Chuck.

  “I’ll be taking her along,” said Jacks. “A decent hostage never does any harm, and if I don’t need her for that she’ll always come in handy for a bit of R and R. Has a lot of pluck, she does. I like that in a girl. And just so that you know, if you happen to be lying about Auxiliary Reactor 4 I’ll do to her what I’m about to do to you.”

  Jacks made a show of squinting down the sights – and then pulled the trigger.

  Staring up at the pistol Chuck wondered why his life wasn’t flashing before his eyes; it was supposed to do that, wasn’t it? Images of his childhood, his family, his friends, his first girlfriend, his first kiss… shouldn’t they all be blazing into his consciousness, elbowing each other aside in the rush to be seen before the hammer fell? Probably, but for whatever reason the only image he could conjure up was that of his comic book hero, the silver suited hero of the space-ways, the Space Ranger Major Matt Starhawk. With the image still in his mind Chuck watched Jacks’ finger close around the trigger. The gun went ‘pffffffffff’… but there was no ‘ft’ at the end – and no plasma bolt either. Jacks pulled the trigger again with the same result. Finally, a solitary orange spark jumped from the muzzle and landed on Chuck’s nose.”

  “Ouch,” he said.

  “How tedious,” said Jacks, looking down in irritation. “Empty power cell.”

  Chuck met the gaze and saw Jacks for what he was – corrupt, malicious and vain. The very antithesis of everything that the virtuous Starhawk stood for. On top of that Jacks had killed poor Bernie Stevens, a kindly old bloke who never hurt a fly, and now here he was, trying to visit pain and suffering on Penny and himself.

  Chuck had never seen red in his life. The best he’d ever managed was a kind of washed out shade of pink back in the eighth grade when he discovered his girl friend had been two timing him with the captain of the swimming team. Strangely, Jacks and the swimming team captain shared similar features, the same high forehead, long, straight nose and square jaw-line.

  For the first time in living memory, Charles Armitage Poulson lost his temper – completely and comprehensively. His rage absolute, a red mist descended and all he could think of was dashing that contemptuous sneer from Jacks’ face. In an instant he leapt up and tore at Jacks, hands clawing for his throat.

  Jacks simply took a step back and deflected Chuck’s lunge with a casual flick of his left forearm. Then twisting sideways he dropped his right shoulder and rotated through the charge so that Chuck was sent crashing to the floor by his own momentum. Before he had time to recover Jacks trotted over and booted him in the kidneys.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” said Jacks, cracking his knuckles as Chuck rose painfully to his feet. No sooner was he upright than Jacks danced over and struck him on the jaw with a perfectly executed left jab. To the nonpartisan observer the blow would have been a joy to behold – a perfect exhibition of speed, power and economy of movement. Chuck never even saw it coming. He tottered a few steps backwards and then crumpled to the deck as his knees gave up the fight to keep him erect.

  “My word, you are a disappointment, Mr. Poulson. Why not call for help? The com is right here beside me.”

  Chuck weighed up his chances of getting a message out before Jacks did some lasting damage; chances which lay somewhere between rather slim and absolutely no chance at all. Then he glanced sideways; Penny had kicked her gun under one of the consoles but Chuck saw his own pistol lying on the floor near the entrance to Ops. Jacks followed the glance, realization dawned and the race was on.

  Already on his feet, Jacks had a head start but as he rounded the main Ops console Chuck threw himself against the commodore’s legs, causing him to stumble. As Jacks fought to correct his balance Chuck grabbed hold of his right foot and yanked it backwards so that Jacks joined him on the deck where they joined in a frantic scramble, each trying to beat the other to the draw. Street-savvy that he was, Jacks was quite prepared to bite, scratch or gouge if it gave him an advantage; he used all three to good effect and Chuck soon found himself running out of strength, running out of options and running out of time.

  Forced to change tactics, he grabbed one of the commodore’s legs and held on to it for dear life, wrapping his own legs around one of the sturdy supports that
held up the main console. With the pistol just scant meters away Jacks kicked out with his free leg and pummeled Chuck’s head and shoulders with his fists. Under the torrent of blows Chuck’s grip on the commodore’s leg slowly began to fail, slipping from the thigh and past the knee until Chuck made his last stand by jamming Jacks’ ankle under his left armpit and wrapping both arms tightly around it.

  Jacks stretched out his right hand, grasping for the gun – it was almost his, just a few more centimeters and he could finally rid the universe of this troublesome sub-captain. One final lunge and… a hand suddenly appeared and swept the gun from his reach. It was a woman’s hand.

  Jacks stopped his struggles and both he and Chuck looked up.

  “Dolores,” cried Jacks.

  “Don’t you Dolores me,” said Primrose.

  “Dolores, I–”

  “You bastard,” she said, backing away with the gun raised at arm’s length. “So you got what you wanted and were off without so much as a goodbye?”

  Chuck released his grip on Jacks’ leg and slowly edged out of the firing line.

  “Dolores, wait. You’ve got it all wrong. I’m on an undercover operation and these people are criminals. I was coming back for you, I promise,” he said, getting to his feet and advancing towards her.

  “Oh, really? You were coming back for me?”

  “Of course, Dolores. You’re the only girl for me. You know that.”

  “The only girl for you? Well how about Misty? Was she the only girl for you too? Or maybe I’m confusing her with Raven, or was it Savannah?”

  “Lavinia,” said Chuck. “Don’t forget Lavinia.”

  “Quiet!” hissed Jacks.

  “What was I, Daniel? A convenient leg-over when there was nothing else on the menu? You used me – like a doormat! Wiped your feet on me, kicked me and then walked right on out the door!”

  “Dolly!” implored Jacks, but Primrose was past forgiveness, beyond clemency and into the darkest nether-regions of revenge and retribution. The needle on the gauge labeled ‘kindness and compassion’ dropped to empty and without further ado she aimed at the center of Jacks’ chest and pulled the trigger.