by G J Ogden
A section of the wall ahead of her changed to show a view along the surface of the vessel’s outer hull. It was again as if the Revocater had read Liberty’s mind. She could see some of the seed drones still attached, but steadily each was blasted by a surge of energy from the hull. Morphus appeared to be electrifying the alien metal, and exterminating the drones, like a bug zapper killing flies.
With the danger from the seed drones seemingly under control by Morphus, Liberty’s confidence swelled. The effort of controlling the mighty ship continued to diminish as her enthusiasm grew. And as the Revocater punctured the veil of blue sky and passed into the darkness of space, she was actually starting to enjoy herself.
“We made it!” Liberty called out. “This ship is incredible.”
“You have done well, Liberty Devan entity,” said Morphus. However, instead of the voice surrounding Liberty, as it had done before, it came at her directly from her right. She looked over and jumped with fright as she saw Morphus sitting in the second seat.
“You scared the hell out of me!” said Liberty, before adding with more emphasis, “again…”
“I apologize,” said Morphus, before replicating Liberty’s mannerisms, and adding, “again…” Liberty didn’t know whether it was trying to be amusing, or merely imitating her, but It served to make Morphus appear a touch more human. “However, I thought it might be more comfortable for you if I retained a physical form,” the alien entity continued.
Liberty then noticed there was something strange about how Morphus was sitting. She looked more closely and realized that the entity was actually physically connected to the seat, as if they were one solid piece.
“In order to manage the Revocater’s systems, I must remain a part of it,” said Morphus. It was as if the alien had read her mind, just as the ship had seemed to also react to her thoughts. She released the controls, and the lustrous glow of the metal faded. “Are you in my head?” she asked, scowling at Morphus.
“Not any longer, since you have released the controls,” replied Morphus.
Then the Revocater began to shudder, as if it were an old-fashioned commercial airliner that had hit a patch of turbulence. Liberty instinctively grabbed the controls again; they glowed in harmony with her skin, and the ship stopped shuddering.
“You must tell the Revocater to hold its course, before releasing the controls,” said Morphus, answering the question that Liberty was just about to ask. “You can think of it as a sort of autopilot. But one that you program with your mind, rather than a computer console.”
Liberty nodded, but then realized she had no-idea where they were supposed to be going. “How do I know what course to set?”
Morphus didn’t answer, and as Liberty glanced across to the second seat, the entity appeared to have frozen. Then Liberty felt something, as if a bug was crawling on her skin. As she turned her thoughts to the sensation, the image ahead of her switched to show a view to their rear. The Corporeals' planet was slowly sinking into the distance, and there was also a series of energy bolts flying out into space. Noting that they seemed to be emanating from the Revocater, Liberty focused on one. The view tracked the bolt, until it hit its target; a seed ship. A number of the arrow-like vessels from the planet were pursuing them.
“Apologies, Liberty Devan entity,” Morphus said, again startling Liberty. “I am finding it a challenge to control all aspects of this prototype Revocater. It requires considerably more of my resources than I anticipated.”
“I think you’re doing great,” offered Liberty, but then she wondered if this sounded condescending coming from a mere corporeal being. Then she wondered whether Morphus even understood what condescension was, or if it could be offended at all.
“You cannot offend me,” replied Morphus, again evidently reading Liberty’s thoughts. “Though I am working to understand your human emotions better.”
“You could start by trying to understand the notion of privacy,” said Liberty, huffily, though this merely seemed to confuse Morphus into silence. The wall to Liberty’s front then switched views again, and a circular blue marker appeared.
“That is your course,” said Morphus. “That is our first portal transition back to System 5118208.”
Liberty took a deep breath and focused on the marker. She could feel the ship turning towards it and accelerating, yet at the same time, she was oblivious to the change in velocity. It was like sticking one's hand out of the window of a moving car, she mused. Your hand can feel the rush of air moving past it, yet the rest of your body remains protected by the windshield and bodywork. Liberty continued to focus on the marker, and then tentatively released the controls and waited. The ship did not shudder, and stayed on course.
“You make a fine Revocater pilot, Liberty Devan entity,” said Morphus. Liberty was sure she could even hear pride in its voice.
“How long until Goliath realizes we’re coming?” said Liberty, turning her thoughts to the task ahead. A seed ship then shot out in front of them, towards the blue marker. Morphus briefly froze, and red bolts of energy lashed out after it, but the seed ship evaded them. A few seconds later, Morphus reanimated, and turned its head to Liberty. The luster of its alien skin seemed to have dulled a little, and Liberty worried that the effort of managing so many of the ship’s functions was taking a heavy toll.
“If the great ship does not already suspect, then it will know very soon,” it said, ominously. “We have no time to lose…”
CHAPTER 3
Tory Bellona set the Orion down on the landing pad at Gale Basin Spaceport, then shut down the engines and reactor. Even without stepping off the ship, it was immediately apparent to Hudson that the place was almost deserted. Normally, the spaceport at the Basin would be alive with shuttles and transports coming and going. Clearly, even those engaged in the seedier, underworld activities on Mars were more concerned about a potential alien invasion than satisfying their urges, Hudson mused.
Hudson unfastened his harness and turned to Tory. “So, any ideas where we should start looking for Cutler and Griff?”
Tory had already unbuckled her harness and pushed herself out of the seat. She was adjusting her gun belt and webbing pouches, as if she was getting ready for a fight. Which, Hudson realized, she was.
“There are a few places he might try to get an off-grid ship, but my bet is he chose Yaeger’s lot,” said Tory, finally meeting Hudson’s eyes. “She’s an asshole, but she hates his guts.”
Hudson pushed himself out of the second seat and stretched. He’d asked Tory to fly them to Mars, on account of the copious quantity of whiskey he’d consumed in The Winchester on Deimos Station. Thankfully, the nanoliver capsule that Tory had given him after they’d returned to the Orion had finally cleared the fogginess from his head. “If this Yaeger hates his guts then surely she’s not likely to help him?” argued Hudson, following Tory into the corridor leading to the living space.
“Cutler doesn’t go cap-in-hand to anyone, but to get what he needs, he’ll have to humble himself,” replied Tory. “His FS-31 is too hot for even the Basin’s bent dealers to touch. But Cutler double-crossed Yaeger some years ago, and she’d love nothing more than to get her own back.”
Tory opened a locker next to the semi-circular couch and took out the Model 1873 Winchester rifle she’d taken from Roy the barman. Hudson noticed that the weapon now had a sling attached, including an ammo carrier that held ten rounds of ammunition.
“I may have been a bit drunk when you stole that thing…” said Hudson.
“I’ve only borrowed it, remember?” Tory interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
“Sure… borrowed,” said Hudson, with a wry smile, “but I don’t remember it having that harness when it was on the wall in The Winchester.”
Tory slung the weapon over her shoulder, and it looked so at home there that Hudson had to remind himself it was a new addition. “I fashioned something while you were asleep,” she said.
Hudson frowned, “Fashioned out
of what?”
Tory shrugged, “Just out of some material I found, lying around” she said, nonchalantly, while heading towards the cargo bay.
Hudson followed, still wearing a frown. He was getting a bad feeling about Tory’s latest accessory. “Found where?” he asked, nervously.
They reached the cargo bay and Tory lowered the rear ramp. The over-warm, humid artificial atmosphere of the Gale Basin rushed in. Tory glanced back at Hudson, the corner of her mouth curling up, playfully. “Let’s just say your wardrobe is a little less full than it was before.” She then stepped down the ramp, the steel of the Winchester rifle shining under the domed city’s warm artificial lights.
Hudson shook his head, “I’m glad I kept my leather jacket on then,” he said, walking down beside her.
“I did almost drug you and steal it off your back,” said Tory, flatly. “But I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, you know?” She then glanced at Hudson’s aghast expression, and raised an eyebrow. “That was a joke,” she said, appearing to be disappointed that Hudson hadn’t seen the funny side.
“I thought you didn’t do jokes?” asked Hudson, not sure if Tory was being serious.
“Apparently, I still don’t…”
Hudson laughed, “Hey, that one was actually pretty funny.”
“I wasn’t joking that time,” said Tory, fixing Hudson with her penetrating eyes.
“I think you should probably just stick to intimidating and shooting people,” Hudson replied, sarcastically.
They were interrupted by one of the dock workers running up to them. “Hey folks, can I get you any extras today?” he said, coming across as bright and in-your-face as his luminous orange overalls. “Some fuel? Maybe a nice hull polish or an engine tune-up? You’re the first customer I’ve seen all day!”
Tory plucked the credit scanner out of his hand and quickly thumbed it to pay the docking charge. She then shoved it back into the dock worker’s chest, knocking the man off balance.
“You don’t touch this ship,” she began, while narrowing her eyes at him and resting a hand on her six-shooter. “You don’t breathe on this ship. In fact, you don’t even so much as look at this ship, you got that?”
The man’s face drained of blood, and he nervously shuffled around on the spot so that he was no longer facing the Orion. “You got it!” the dock worker said, maintaining his cheerfulness, but his voice wavered as he spoke.
Then Tory plucked a one-hundred-dollar hardbuck note out from inside her armored jacket. She waved it under the dock worker’s nose, and shoved it into the breast pocket of his overalls.
“But while you’re not touching, breathing or looking at this ship, I want you to make sure no-one else does either,” she said.
Hudson was both impressed and disturbed at how easily Tory could switch into her more menacing persona.
“And if anyone does, you make sure to let us know when we get back,” Tory added.
The dock worker nodded and offered a tepid smile. “You got it, no problem at all!”
Tory patted him on the shoulder, deliberately hard enough to again unbalance him. “Good. Just remember that if I find you’ve let down your end of the bargain, I’ll be taking that note back.” Then she paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “After I shoot you in the kneecaps.”
The dock worker glanced at the Winchester rifle and then at the six-shooter in Tory’s belt, and again smiled weakly. Tory glared at him a moment longer, then casually strode away.
The dock worker turned to Hudson, seemingly looking for some reassurance that his partner had been joking. However, as Hudson had just experienced, Tory Bellona didn’t do jokes.
“I keep telling her to stop shooting the staff at ports and space stations,” Hudson said, shrugging and keeping a straight face. “It does make it hard to find good places to land these days.”
Then Hudson left the mildly trembling dock worker behind and caught up with Tory. “You were joking about shooting him, right?” he asked, before following her through the border scanner.
“Didn’t you just tell me to stick to intimidating and shooting people?” answered Tory, as she stepped onto the main boulevard for the quadrant.
Hudson had to admit Tory was right, but he also hadn’t expected her to take him so literally. “I was being facetious,” he said, again following behind her. “You don’t have to shoot your way out of every situation, you know?”
Tory stopped suddenly, and Hudson almost walked into the back of her. He was about to ask why she’d halted, but then the answer became clear. Standing in the middle of the boulevard, about ten meters ahead of them, were two men and two women. And they were all wearing the distinctive tailored suits favored by the Council’s goons.
Tory turned to Hudson and cocked an eyebrow. “You were saying?”
CHAPTER 4
Tory unslung the Winchester rifle from her shoulder and cocked it; the crisp sound of the lever action mechanism seemed to hang in the air. Hudson reached inside his jacket and slowly drew his pistol, expecting the bullets to immediately start flying. However, curiously, none of the Council thugs had yet drawn their weapons.
“No need for violence, we just want to talk,” one of the men called out. The few people that were wandering the boulevard seemed to sense the danger, and quickly disappeared into the seedy establishments that lined the street.
“Then talk,” Hudson called back to the man, “We’re listening.”
The group very slowly started moving towards them. Then the man said, “I think we’d all be more comfortable if we spoke somewhere off the boulevard, don’t you?” He’d phrased it as a question, but from the tone of his voice, Hudson could tell he didn’t care what they thought.
Tory glanced over her shoulder, and then peered up at the higher levels of the buildings around them. “Four more behind us, and at least two spotting on the upper levels,” she said, keeping her voice low.
Hudson didn’t look back, but he quickly scanned the windows and balconies ahead, and saw at least one of the people Tory had mentioned. “I think the odds are a little against us in a shoot-out,” he said, also keeping his voice low. “Is there another way off this boulevard?”
Tory glanced to her right, “We can cut through that massage parlor and onto the service alley out the back,” she said, as Hudson surreptitiously glanced to where she’d indicated. “It’s close to one of the ground transitways. If we’re lucky, we might be able to hijack a transport. If not, we can slip into the lower level; they’ll be less willing to follow us there.”
Hudson had heard enough stories about the Basin’s lower level to know it was the last place – besides where he was now – that he wanted to be. However, he wasn’t enamored about venturing inside the massage parlor either. From the look of the place, it seemed to be offering a very different type of service.
“How do you know where this massage parlor leads to?” Hudson asked. Then he realized he’d perhaps come off sounding a little confrontational.
Tory turned to him, “Really? You’re choosing right now to ask me that?”
Hudson didn’t answer; his attention was again drawn to the group of four Council goons, who were still creeping closer. A couple of them had pulled back their jackets to reveal their weapons. He glanced behind and saw the second group was closing in too. Despite his misgivings, he had to accept that a seedy massage parlor was preferable to getting gunned down on the boulevard.
“Okay, you lead – since you obviously know the way…” Tory rolled her eyes at him, “and I’ll follow.”
Tory immediately ran, firing shots from the hip with the Winchester. The bullets pinged off the road surface at the feet of the goons, causing them to scatter for cover. Hudson was glad of the clear head that Tory’s nanoliver had given him, and he reacted swiftly, chasing after Tory, while firing blindly into the air. Tory smashed through the screen door of the parlor, and Hudson practically fell in behind her, as gunshots rang out in from the boulevard.
&
nbsp; “No, Werner wants them alive!” Hudson heard a voice call out, as he charged further into the establishment. Semi-naked men and women scattered like ninepins, as Tory bustled past them and into a back room. Hudson regained his balance and chased after her, pushing through into the next space. He didn’t consider himself bashful, but even he had to force himself to look ahead, to avoid witnessing the fleshy scenes all around him.
“Hurry, we’re almost there!” Tory called back, as she launched her boot at a door, smashing it open.
Hudson glanced behind, seeing that the Council thugs were in pursuit, but then he discovered Tory locked in a struggle with another suited goon. There was a stairwell close to the door, and Hudson assumed the man had just charged down from the upper level.
The thug had grabbed Tory’s rifle and was trying to wrestle her to her knees. Hudson darted forward and clubbed the goon’s fingers with his pistol, crushing them against the stock of the Winchester. The man cried out and released his hold, allowing Tory to throw him to one side, before hammering the butt of the rifle into his head.
Hudson and Tory exchanged a brief glance, and then Tory ran ahead. Hudson turned, firing two more shots into the air. Plaster crumbled down from the ceiling, and again the Council goons were forced to scatter and temporarily abort their pursuit. Hudson pushed on harder and caught up with Tory, as she leveled her boot at a sturdier-looking metal door. This time it didn’t budge.
“Give me a hand!” Tory shouted, stepping back and readying herself for another charge. Hudson ran to her side, and then nodded, before they both launched perfectly timed kicks together. The door flew open into the service alley, and they both bundled through it, but waiting outside were three more suited goons.
Tory didn’t pause even for a nanosecond, taking advantage of their surprise arrival to attack first. She clubbed the nearest man with the Winchester, knocking him out cold, while Hudson tackled the second, driving him into the side of a commercial-sized waste container. He saw Tory take a hit to the head and body, but she parried the next blow and launched a ferocious counter-attack. Driving the butt of the Winchester solidly into the man’s gut, she then spun a kick to his head, before slamming him into the side wall. Hudson heard the organic snap as his head split open, like a coconut being cracked with a hammer.