by RK Munin
Half way to a secure spot, a group of raiders appear from around a corner. Mian stops moving forward, drops to one knee and opens fire. She has no cover close enough to get behind, but at least she’s wearing armor.
Halin curses, aims his own weapon, and starts firing. Several raiders drop, but the others duck back, finding shelter behind a bulkhead support. Mian falls back until she can squeeze herself in next to Halin.
“Did you see hostages?” she asks, peeking her head around and hissing as a shot sounds down the corridor.
“No,” he answers as he returns fire.
“Good,” Mian grunts, and he watches her pull something off the leg of her armor. She taps it a few times, then tosses it down the corridor. “Helmet up!” she orders, and her suit deploys the helmet over her head. Halin hastily does the same. Just as his helmet finishes deploying, a shock wave shakes the wall at their back and the plating under their feet.
Anticipating her next move Halin is already on his feet the moment the shock wave passes, moving in sync with her down the corridor. They find only one of the raiders still alive and on his feet. The single shot he's able to get off misses both Halin and Mian. Simultaneously they fire back. They both hit, their shots making the raider jerk violently as he falls back.
Neither of them lower their weapon as they check the other raiders to make sure they are all dead, not just unconscious or pretending.
“Regarian,” Halin grumbles with disgust. “I should have known.”
The Regarian are a large species, almost as big as Halin's people. They're covered in fur with long snouts and protruding fangs. Although there are Regarian that run reputable business, the species is generally known for its tendencies to resort to raiding, stealing or any other criminal activity.
“A good deal of the raiders around here are Regarian or Diniki,” Mian explains absently as she studies the gear on a few of the bodies. “There are other species that turn to raiding, but I seem to run into these guys most often. This six are well armed. I'll bet they were sent to take care of us. The ship never fired while we dealt with the Defender, so no one’s manning any of the controls. My guess is that the rest of the raiders on board are in the hanger bay looking for trade goods. Probably only another twelve or so.”
“Twelve?” Halin casts her a shocked look. “that would make a total of twenty on the whole ship. Running a ship this size should require double that.”
Mian shrugs. “Raider's don't even know how to run these things properly so it wouldn't matter if they had enough bodies to do it. They capture and discard ships pretty often. It's not like they can just pull into a port and have maintenance done.”
“I hadn't thought of that,” Halin admits.
“Fighting raiders isn't like going to war with a regular opponent,” Mian assures him. “You have to toss a lot of the rules and expectations out the window.”
“So now we head to the hanger bay?” Halin asks, willing to be led by her superior knowledge of raider tactics.
“You guessed it, same one by one formation,” she tells him.
Halin nods and checks his blaster’s charge. Satisfied he pulls a small energy weapon out with his non-dominate hand, noticing Mian doing the same thing. Without another word they start making their way down the corridor again.
Soon he hears voices, and Mian ducks down, waving him forward to her side. He crouches and runs until he's next to her. She points, and he can just see into a large room full of activity.
A group of about a dozen Fozin huddle together, making small noises of distress. The raiders, all of them large Regarian, are opening boxes and tossing things around. One of the Regarians stomps over to the quaking pile of Fozin.
“Where are the valuables!” he shouts, and the Fozin cry out in fear, trying to huddle even closer to each other. The Regarian grabs one of the Fozin, pulling him away from the rest. Holding him high, the raider shakes the small furry creature violently. “Where is the dimmerian? Your kind always trades dimmerian! Where is it!”
The Fozin screams in fear and tries to wiggle out of the Regarian's hold. The raider tosses the small creature down and puts a large foot on its back when it tries to crawl away. “Answer me or I start playing with the young ones. I wonder how your kind tastes? I'll make sure to start with arms and legs so it lives longer. Fresh meat always tastes so much better.”
“We don't trade in dimmerian,” the Fozin under his foot cries out. “We trade in cloth and hides. Nothing else, I swear.”
“You lie!” the raider roars and without lifting his foot reaches out to grab one of the smallest Fozin out of the pile, obviously a child.
“I'm going to make my way around,” Mian whispers through their helm comms. “Stay here. When I open fire kill the raiders closest to the captives first.”
“I'll go, you stay,” Halin counters, but Mian makes a sound of disagreement.
“You're too big.” She points to a ramp used to load cargo into a multi-story ship.
If she wants to get to the ramp undetected, she’ll have to run from one tight hiding space to another. Even with the bulky armor on, she’s much smaller than he is. Considering the odds, surprise is a weapon too dear to give up. That means it needs to be her to going to the ramp if they want to keep their presence a secret until they start firing.
“I'm going to climb up there from the back,” she tells him. “Be ready to lay down cover fire if they see me before I'm in position.”
Halin wants to argue but clamps his mouth shut and lets her go. Pulling his plasma rifle off his back, he double checks the charge on the weapon. Then he braces on a convenient rail, ready to lay down fire if she needs him. She moves quickly and efficiently, not bothering to try and sprint. The corridor and bay are much too crowded for her to effectively run full out. Instead she moves from hiding spot to hiding spot, using the terrorized screams of the Fozin to mask the sounds of her movement.
He watches, almost unable to breath, as she makes her way to the ramp and disappears behind it. Soon she reappears at the top of the loading structure. She kneels and pulls her plasma rifle from her back. She sights down and fires. One of the raiders near the captured ship gives a stifled scream and falls. There is a moment of stunned silence as the rest of the raiders look at their fallen comrade. Both Mian and Halin take full advantage.
The Regarian terrorizing the group of Fozin is now holding a child. He’s looking away from Halin, holding the child high in the air, mouth open as if he’s about to eat the little guy. Halin aims carefully and fires, hitting the Regarian with a clean shot through the head and watches with satisfaction as the creature falls lifeless to the ground. The little Fozin lands hard, but many hands reach out to pull the wailing youngster into the safety of the group.
Fearful the other raiders might try and use the hostages, Halin sprints to the group and crouches down in front of them, using his armored body to shield them from raider fire. He can't see Mian any longer, but he can hear her rifle firing with a measured beat. Each shot is followed with the sound of a scream or falling body. The woman has skills.
He's almost thrown back when a round hits his chest. His armor holds, and he manages to stay on his feet and return fire. It takes him several rounds to drop a raider running toward him, and then only one round to kill a raider who stops to take aim.
Sweeping his gaze over the area he sees a Regarian holding something massive. It takes him a moment to identify the weapon, but once he does, he feels his blood run cold. The bulky weapon in the raider’s grip is a modified ship’s cannon. He can see where the support arm the cannons are usually mounted on has been torn away and a poorly wired control panel has been put in its place. Wires dangle haphazardly, and there's a small spark coming off the metering rod at the front of the cannon’s mouth.
The thing was never meant to be fired inside a ship or be held by hand, and he knows if the Regarian succeeds in firing the badly modified weapon, it won't just fry the Regarian holding it, but it will probably ex
plode. It’ll tear the ship apart, probably killing everyone including himself and Mian.
He can't fire on the raider. Even a round fired too close could set the old cannon off. Fueled by fear and the need to protect Mian, Halin launches himself at the raider, tossing his plasma rifle aside as he sprints. He puts all his energy into covering ground. He needs to get to the raider before the idiot can figure out how to make the weapon work.
Halin's only vaguely aware of one of the raiders rushing at him from the side. The sound of a plasma rifle shot echoes above him. A scream. Then the body disappears from his view.
Another body dashes at him, but he doesn't try to dodge or deviate from his course. That raider falls away also. He makes it to the raider with the cannon just as the creature’s fingers find the ignition switch. With a roar Halin rams his large body into the equally large Regarian, and they both go down in a tangle of limbs. The cannon slides down the corridor, away from the fighting, stopping when it bumps gently against a wall.
Halin only has a moment to note the weapon didn't accidentally go off and kill them all before the Regarian is clawing at his armor. He can feel it shredding under the Regarian’s steel like claws as he brings his legs up to try and kick the thing off of him. The blow is ineffective, but it gives him just enough room to pull his side arm and fire off several rounds into the Regarian’s chest.
The thing gives a high-pitched scream of pain and crumples back, twitching as it dies. Halin scrambles to his feet and looks around. There are still a handful of raiders up and moving. They’re firing and closing in on Mian's position, but she's no longer returning fire. He refuses to believe she is wounded or dead, so instead he decides she must be pinned down and unable to move enough to fire back.
He can see his plasma rifle too far away and in several pieces. He has two single hand weapons and plenty of ammunition for them. He pulls the second weapon out and starts walking toward the raiders, firing one right after another and refusing to flinch as the Regarian turn their weapons on him.
No sooner have they turned to fire on his position then plasma rifle rounds start picking them off. Halin drops behind a convenient pile of boxes. The rounds rip right through the boxes, but at least they offer him visual coverage. He reloads both guns and rolls onto his belly, firing from his prone position. He's thankful for the Range Master who drilled him until he felt like he could confidently and accurately fire in any position.
Between him on the ground and Mian firing from an elevated position, the raiders soon realize that they might not be outnumbered, but they are definitely outmatched. They try to retreat into the captured Fozin ship, but Halin gets a lucky shot in and destroys the control panel to the ship’s hatch, making it impossible for the raiders to get the hatch open. When the last two raiders throw down their weapons and drop to their knees in surrender Halin is tempted to just shoot them rather than go to the trouble of capturing them.
“Get down on your bellies, arms and legs spread out,” Mian commands from her position at the top of the ramp.
Halin stands up and keeps one of his weapons trained on the prisoners. He hopes they will try something desperate, and then he’ll get to shoot them.
“Halin, secure them, both hands and legs,” she orders and he looks up just in time to see her toss down some flexicuffs. She only took one hand off her weapon as she tosses them down and never moved her eyes off the remaining raiders.
Halin puts his weapons away, gathers up the cheap restraints, and slaps them on the raiders, watching with satisfaction as they tighten around the raiders limbs and then harden. Only a special enzyme will dissolve the flexicuffs. Until then the raiders are bound hand and foot.
The Regarians glare at the restraints, but to his disappointment none of them attack. When he's finished applying the flexicuffs to wrists and ankles, he digs a toe into one and then the other, listening with satisfaction as they curse and try and move away from him but unable to get far because the restraints hold against their immense strength.
“Hissa mongrel,” one of them grunts. “All of you will die out, and we Regarians will take your territory as our own.”
“You’re too dumb to even find my home world,” he retorts, then looks up to Mian.
“They’re secured,” he calls out, lowering his helm and looking up to Mian’s position. That’s when Mian finally lowers her own weapon.
Standing up, she lowers her helm and smiles broadly down at him.
“Good job,” she yells as she turns to make her way down the ramp. “You’re hired!”
Chuckling, he turns to walk around the ramp so he can meet her at the bottom, when suddenly he’s surrounded by anxious chattering Fozin.
“What repayment do you want for us?” one of them demands, tugging at the leg piece of his armor. “We are not a rich family. It shouldn’t be more than the worth of a length of solian cloth.”
“Half a length,” another one argues, slapping the first one’s hand away from his armor. “They have damaged our ship. It will be expensive to repair.”
“I’m not,” he starts to say when yet another Fozin slaps at his leg to get his attention.
“You can’t have any of the expensive colors,” she tells him. “Only brown or yellow. I see you are a male Hissa. You’ll want the brown anyway.”
Halin hears a laugh and looks up to see Mian striding toward them. “Help,” he demands as a Fozen child tries to climb up his leg. Mian swoops in and plucks the child off him.
“I’m Mian Sorrow, Captain and owner of the gunship Fortune,” she announces formally.
“We are the Clan Gyris,” a female says, stepping forward. She was the one who told him he could only have brown or yellow.
“Greeting, Clan Gyris. For the rescue of your clan you will give us an entire length of blue solian,” she tells them sternly. “You will not argue or bargain. In exchange we will stay with you until you safely reach Wint Station. Your ship is damaged, but it looks like there are enough of you to operate this raider ship. We’ll help you lock the remaining raiders in a room, and all of you will pilot this ship back to Wint. When you get there the money for the bounty on the pirates is mine.”
“You take the bounty, and we’ll take the ship,” one of Fozin agrees. “We will take this ship to pay for the damage to our goods and our own ship.”
“It’s yours,” Mian agrees swinging the child around until it starts squealing with delight. “Now find me my fabric.”
With the Fozin no longer pressed together, Halin can see there’s at least thirty of them. He thought there were a lot fewer because they were so small and huddled so tightly together when he first entered the hanger. After what looks like an intense discussion, they turn to face Mian, and one of them speaks while several others scurry off.
“We agree to your terms,” she tells Mian, and Halin watches as the two Fozin emerge from their ship carrying a large bolt of bright blue fabric. Mian hands the giggling child to one of the adults and accepts the cloth.
“Your payment is accepted,” Mian replies with a small bow. “We had to punch a hole in the hull to gain access. We’ll repair it before we disengage from this ship, but be aware you can’t do a full burn until it’s properly seen to.”
“We will put the ship into dry dock when we reach Wint and have better repairs done,” the Fozin assures her. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Without another word, the Fozin all turn away from Mian and Halin and start chattering excitedly among themselves. Mian grins and jerks her head, then starts walking away. Halin follows and as soon as they’re out of earshot, he stops her and points at the cloth.
“Did you really want that?”
Mian shrugs, “It’s pretty. I guess I’ll use it to decorate, but I didn’t really need it. I saw a box of it so I knew they had it.”
“If you didn’t really want it, why did you ask for it?”
“If I didn’t ask for it, they’d never leave us alone or stop trying to bargain,” Mian explains w
ith a chuckle. “You haven’t dealt with Fozin much, have you? The first time I rescued a ship of Fozin I kept telling them they didn’t need to pay me because they kept saying how poor they were. We stood there arguing over a payment I told them I didn’t need until I walked away with a dimmerian component and three sets of hull patches. I didn’t understand until Moriv explained to me later that most Fozin are honorable, but don’t understand the idea of not arguing a price. Their tactic is to always claim to be poor and then try to out poor each other while bargaining. By telling them I didn’t want anything they thought I was driving up the price.”
Halin laughs at her wry expression. “That seems complicated.”
“It’s just easier to demand something you know they have plenty of,” she agrees. “Otherwise they’ll stand around for hours arguing with you about how poor they are.” She holds up the blue cloth and grins. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with this, but at least it’s pretty.”
“It is,” Halin agrees, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. “What was that about bounty for the raiders bodies?”
“The different species in this system set up a fund that pays out every time someone brings them a raider, dead or alive. It’s a pretty standard system set up anywhere where raiders become an issue. The money is what keeps Fortune in ammunition and me in food rations.”
“That’s logical, especially if none of the species around here have large militaries.”
“They don’t,” Mian assures him. “Speaking of military, you did pretty well today. Your training is excellent.”
“You’re well practiced yourself. Your accuracy with the plasma rifle is laudable,” he replies. “Have you ever fired one before?”
“Only once. Moriv let me test one that was returned,” she says with a small smile of pleasure. “It’s a nice weapon. What happened to yours?”
“I think a Regarian landed on it,” he grumbles, pointing back where his rifle lay in several pieces. She followed his gaze and frowned in commiseration.
“Oh well, I’m sure your government will buy you a new one.”