Harper's Ten: Prequel to the Fractured Space Series

by J G Cressey

  Having taken an interest, Franco moved around the table to join Cal in getting a closer look. “What’s the burn radius and duration?”

  Ebner considered for a moment before answering. “I would say, on average, a four-meter radius and an extremely hot burn of about thirty seconds.”

  “Only thirty?” Franco asked.

  “Trust me; it’s long enough,” Ebner replied. “I managed to set a few of these off during the attack. It’s the only reason the three of us survived. Bought us time to run and hide. The big snakes are incredibly sensitive to the heat. To the point they’ll practically attack each other in order to retreat from it. Then, it takes time for the area to cool… Some of the more vicious snakes endure the residual heat, but most avoid it for a good while.”

  Cal thought for a time then asked, “What do you think attracts these snakes? Could lights be drawing them in?”

  Ebner nodded. “Lights, movement, taste, smell, vibrations. If they’re anything like the snakes we know, just about all of these could be a factor.”

  Franco mumbled a curse then leaned over to stare at the liquids within one of the bombs. “Well, I’m glad we’ve at least got something decent to fight with if it comes to it. I don’t fancy relying on the arts and crafts those Boy Scouts are whipping up over there.” The corporal nodded toward the far side of the room, where Couter, Wilson, and Orisho were fashioning spears by attaching their blades to whatever suitable lengths of metal they could detach from the base. The spears would act as a lighter-weight weapon rather than keeping the blades on their bulky, inert pulse rifles. The makeshift weapons would also allow them a far longer reach. Cal didn’t imagine they’d actually be needed. It was likely their rescue would arrive within hours. But he didn’t like to take chances. What if the ship didn’t come directly and encountered the same problem as their own? Or perhaps more likely, what if that idiot Captain Decker conjured up some nonsensical reason to delay the rescue? Whatever the case may be, Cal always liked to keep his team busy under such circumstances—the death of a comrade always hit hard as soon as the doing stopped. Accepting such loss was part of being a soldier, but it never got any easier. When the time came, they would all deal with it in their own way. Some hit the sparring ring, some indulged in the battle-sim arena, but most hit the rec-club and got blind drunk.

  “This really is quite the vacation you’ve dragged us on, Lieutenant.”

  Corporal Franco, on the other hand, dealt with just about everything with attempts at humor.

  “I’m still waiting for those Amazon women you promised.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow at him. “Save your fantasies for the pleasure pods back on the starship, Corporal.”

  “No can do. I broke one of the pods on my last visit. I’m banned from the entire entertainment deck. You frickin’ believe that? Probably be paying that damn thing off well into my retirement.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Cal said, and he meant it. The pleasure pods were damn good fun. They could fool the body and brain and immerse the user into just about any virtual world or situation imaginable.

  “Yeah, not half as sorry as I am,” Franco mumbled, seeming genuinely distraught.

  Cal wasn't keen to know how the pod was broken and was glad for the lack of elaboration.

  Franco shrugged then held a glow-tube over the chem-bombs. “You know, these little baubles are quite ingenious.” He glanced over at Ebner, who was now organizing materials on the other side of the lab. “The old guy’s got some real skill.”

  “Just as well,” Cal replied. “It seems no one would have been left alive otherwise.”

  Franco nodded. “If only we’d gotten here earlier.”

  “If only a lot more of us had gotten here earlier,” Cal said. “Maybe an out-of-orbit carrier ship to boot. If only the captain of our starship wasn’t an ignorant moron.”

  Franco put the glow-tube down and smiled grimly. “You’re thinking of paying him an unfriendly visit when we get back, aren’t you?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  “Well, just don't go getting yourself slung. I like this little team of ours."

  Cal shrugged. “I’ll try my best.”

  “Speaking of our little team,” Franco said after a moment, “you think Becker’s okay?”

  Cal turned to see Becker perched on the edge of a storage crate, her elbows resting on her knees. She was staring intently at Dr. Campbell and her young colleague. “Becker’s always okay,” he replied. But he didn’t entirely believe his own words. For as long as he’d known her, Becker had been steadfast. As calm and collected as anyone he’d ever worked with. But that was before he saw her almost end a man in a bare-knuckled rage. It was a reaction he could understand—all three of those men had done despicable things—but dealing with contemptible individuals was part of the job, and it was best done in a measured way. But then, I didn’t exactly rush to stop the beating, Cal thought as he continued to watch Becker.

  “I’m not so sure,” Franco said. “Something’s got her riled or spooked… I'm not sure which.”

  Cal sucked in a slow breath. Maybe if she hadn’t been there, I’d have thrown the punches myself. “I think it’s best we get these handed out, Corporal,” he said, turning his attentions back to the explosives on the table.

  “To the civvies as well?”

  “Only Ebner and Campbell,” Cal replied. The state the girl was in, he doubted whether she could even hold one let alone use it effectively. She still showed no signs of escaping her catatonia, but perhaps that was the safest place for her mind right now. “Arming them might help keep their confidence up,” Cal reasoned. “I doubt we'll actually have to fight, but…”

  “Always got to keep in mind the but,” Franco agreed. “Don’t worry; I'll get them dished out.”

  Cal nodded his appreciation then headed over to Becker.

  “All okay, Sergeant?”

  “Of course, boss,” Becker replied without looking up.

  Cal took a seat on the crate next to her. “It’s just you seem a little…distant.”

  Becker didn't reply, just sat staring at the young, catatonic researcher.

  “She’s called Christie,” Becker said, finally breaking the silence. “Reminds me of my sister.”

  “Your sister?” Cal had known that Becker’s parents had been killed when she was young by raiders, but nothing had ever been mentioned about a sister.

  “She was older than me,” Becker said, nodding toward Christie, “about the same age as her when she was killed. She died from her injuries a few weeks after the raiders.” Becker’s gaze remained fixed on the girl, as if to look away might result in more tragedy. “She looks like her too.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Becker, I truly am.” Cal thought his words lame and completely inadequate, but they were sincere.

  “She looks like a doll, don't you think?” Becker’s voice was quiet and laced with sadness, her expression distant, a world away in a lifetime long past. “…a china doll. So fragile you couldn’t touch her for fear she’d shatter into a million pieces.”

  Cal nodded. She was right. Christie was as pale as a ghost and far too frail to be amid such a storm. Sometimes, life could be incredibly harsh to those who deserved it the least.

  “I couldn’t protect my sister,” Becker said, an edge of bitterness clutching at her throat. “I was small then…and weak.” Finally, her gaze broke from Christie, and she turned to look at him. There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t spill, and her expression was hard. It was as if she’d forged an invisible shell to contain the tears and any emotion that came with them. “I’m not helpless anymore.”

  “No, you’re far from that,” Cal replied. “But you know it’s not always possible to protect everyone no matter how strong you are.”

  Becker’s hard countenance was broken for a moment by a brief, tight-lipped smile. “You’re a fine one to talk, boss. I’ve seen the way you look at young Couter. Like you want to
cut him from the team and send him off to some peaceful, first-world colony. Maybe persuade him to study art or something.”

  Cal shrugged. “Less chance of getting eaten as an artist.”

  Becker’s smile took on a genuine edge but soon faded. The two of them sat again in silence for a while, as if in a tranquil bubble, indiscernible by the rest of the team as they continued on with their tasks.

  But Cal knew that tranquility could never last, not in this line of work and certainly not in a situation such as this. Durron began shouting across the room, demanding for someone to hear him out. Cal’s jaw clenched almost as hard as his fists. The scavenger’s timing was even worse than his manners.

  Becker’s head snapped around, fierceness instantly returning to her eyes.

  Cal stood. “Stay put for now.”

  Becker hardly seemed to hear him, her eyes locked on Durron.

  “Sergeant,” Cal said, raising his voice and waiting for Becker to respond. “That’s an order.”

  Reluctantly, Becker looked up at him and nodded.

  “Just so you know, my sergeant is about two of your shouts away from marching over here and ripping your tongue out.” Cal crouched down and looked into Durron’s bruised, battered face. All three scavengers were slumped together in the corner of the room, their feet and hands bound tight. The back wall was bending Durron’s neck into a particularly awkward angle, but with his hands tied, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Cal certainly wasn’t going to help him. “And if for some reason she decides you’re not worth the effort, I might just do it for her.”

  “Inconse…inconsequen…empty threats.”

  Durron was having trouble talking, the execution of some words obviously proving too much for him. He sounded like a man who’d been punched in the face twenty times. Cal hoped that the obvious pain caused from moving his mangled mouth might just keep conversation to a minimum. Or at the very least lessen the man’s vocabulary.

  “You keep that…blond bitch on a leash. Else you might come to regret it.”

  “You’re right; I might regret it,” Cal replied, doing his best to keep his temper locked down. “But I doubt for the reasons you’re thinking.”

  “You’re a soldier,” Durron replied. “Bound by laws.”

  “My memory gets a little hazy when it comes to those laws,” Cal replied evenly. “When we’re so far from civilization, I occasionally begin to feel a bit like judge, jury, and executioner.”

  Durron laughed at that, a little blood bubbling from his swollen nose. “You’re lying. You’re a by the book man…can smell it a mile away.”

  “I doubt you can smell much of anything through that broken snout.”

  Durron snarled and awkwardly snorted out a large clump of dried blood from the snout in question. Unfortunately, the action went a long way to restoring the clarity of his voice. “A by the book man,” he repeated.

  Pryce shifted by his side. “Aye, you’re nothin’ but grunts,” he growled, having seemingly come out of his silent stupor. “Ain’t no bloody evidence on us. You grunts didn’t see nothin’. Can’t prove nothin’.”

  “Shut it,” Durron hissed at him. He tried to smile at Cal, but he looked more like a deformed pig chewing on a truffle. “I’ve been in this game a while, Lieutenant. I know Fed laws inside out. What that bitch did to me… I could get her a hefty sentence. They don’t like soldiers losing it like that…makes them look bad. Us on the other hand… You’ve nothing on us that will stand in a Fed court, no cam evidence. We’ll be free to go about our business in no time. But I’ll admit it would be a hassle to go through the rigma…rigmar…to go through the trouble. So here’s the deal; you keep your mouth shut, and I’ll let the blond bitch off scot-free.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow and looked at Pryce. “Has your friend always been so delusional, or has my sergeant caused some serious brain damage?”

  Pryce simply looked at him blankly. Cal shook his head and stood up. He stretched his back for a moment and took a couple of deep breaths. Then, he looked down at the three men as a person might look upon some inconveniently located excrement. Still gagged, Billy wasn’t paying the slightest attention to the conversation. The young man’s eyes were darting about as if watching some activity that the rest of them weren’t privy to. All three men were nefarious thugs, but Durron seemed the only one with an ounce of intelligence, and that somehow made him all the worse.

  Cal pulled out his knife. He began tapping its edge on his armored leg and took some time to decide just how by the book he was feeling.

  Durron looked up with that deformed approximation of a smile. It seemed the deluded man was convinced he’d achieved some sort of victory on account of his gumption and wit. Cal wasn’t about to kill or even hurt a bound prisoner, no matter how despicable, but there was a moment there when the man’s gumption almost caused him to reconsider those ethics. It was fast becoming another one of those occasions when he wished he hadn’t become quite so dedicated to his position, so steadfast to the rules of his profession. Perhaps he’s right; maybe I am a by the book man.

  “The truth is, Durron, when the time comes for my sergeant and I to make our report, I’d imagine our memories of the events may differ substantially from yours and those of your little criminal sidekicks here. Of course, there were other witnesses in the room at the time,” Cal said, glancing back toward the civilians. Both Ebner and Campbell appeared to be intently listening to what was being said. “I find myself wondering whether your victims’ memories will fall in line with ours or with yours.”

  Durron’s approximated smile began to lose its rigidity. Cal stared down at him for a few more moments. “Now, keep your mouth shut,” he said before turning away.

  “Actually, there was one more thing I wanted to discuss if I may, Lieutenant?”

  Feeling his patience wearing very thin, Cal looked stiffly back to the scavenger.

  “I was just curious,” Durron said, the tone of his voice suddenly elevated as if to ensure it could be heard by all. “Why exactly did it take you so long to come to the rescue of these poor, vulnerable civilians?”

  Cal paused mid turn.

  “You see, my comrade, Pryce here,” Durron continued, “he’s been filling me in on the older gentleman’s theories of the disrupting water particles on this planet…the reason for all this failing tech. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the way I understand it, a substantial amount of time must have passed before your ship was affected and ultimately rendered inert.”

  Cal felt his jaw involuntarily tighten as well as his fist. Damn. It seemed he’d underestimated this bastard.

  “Why then did you not arrive here at the base before that happened?” Durron asked loudly. “Surely, you would have known its exact location, and your first priority would have been to ensure the wellbeing and safety of these unfortunate innocents?”

  Cal could feel the gaze of the researchers burning into his back, particularly Campbell. He should have come clean with them from the start, but ironically, he was trying to build their trust—not an easy thing to achieve when the first thing you tell them is that a hulking lump of tech took priority over their lives.

  Durron’s smile was beginning to return now, and it had a shrewd edge to it. “My colleagues and I are scavengers, plain and simple. We’ve never tried to hide the fact…never tried to pretend that we’re something that we’re not.”

  Cal had an overwhelming urge to knock the man unconscious, but an act of violence wasn’t exactly going to help his cause in this situation.

  “I’ll admit it,” Durron continued. “Our objective when we arrived here on this planet was to try and eke out a living by unlawfully acquiring a few bits here and there to put food on our table and make basic repairs to our ship. That was why we headed for one of these drones that we’d been informed of… It was possibly a perfect business opportunity for us—valuable parts and nobody around that could potentially get hurt in the process of acquiring them. As it turned out,
we spent a fair bit of time at that drone, which, unfortunately for us, was near impossible to breach. Even with its shields down, it was incredibly well-protected. I’d imagine that the Federation and the military must place an awful lot of worth on those pieces of tech…to go to all that trouble of protecting them so thoroughly. Am I right in this, Lieutenant? Are they incredibly valuable?”

  Cal didn’t answer. The scavenger was baiting him as well as revealing a truth that he simply couldn’t argue against. If he forcibly shut the man up, it would show him as guilty…which of course he was.

  Durron snorted out a little more dried blood before continuing. “Anyway, like I was saying, we spent a good deal of time attempting to crack this drone before moving on, enough time for our ship to gradually succumb to these strange disrupting particles that the old man speaks of. After we crashed, we came here, driven by a simple instinct to survive… It’s unfortunate that the fear resulting from the loss of our fellow crew members and the dire situation drove us to do things we’re not proud of. But once the fear settles and we have time to reflect on our actions, the three of us will have to start living with the consequential guilt.” Durron shifted uncomfortably, but his stare never left Cal. “So that’s our story, as honest and transparent as I can make it.” The scavenger’s smile lessened, and his bruised, bloodshot eyes darkened. “What’s your honest story, Lieutenant? Why is it that your ship didn’t make it here on time? If it had, these good people would be on their way to your starship by now, wouldn’t they?”

  Cal wanted to strangle the man. He was clearly attempting to turn the civilians against him, but for what purpose? Surely not to try and get them on his side—after what he and his men had done to them, there was no chance of that. No, it seemed he wanted to create discord and conflict just for the hell of it—perhaps unsurprising considering the man’s character.