by David Ryker
“Halt!” one of the guards yelled.
I already had, so I stayed where I was.
“Get on the ground!” he yelled.
I really didn’t want to. I was frozen, staring at them, with no options. If I was arrested, that would be it. Galactic incident.
Before I could move, something hit the side of one of the Mech with a dull thunk, and a second later a shower of sparks exploded off the flank, sending chunks of steel flying everywhere. Flames and smoke licked the thick air and the Mech careened into its neighbor and toppled it like a domino. The four guards all ducked and twisted around, and in the momentary panic, I scrambled left toward Greg. He was already moving, hatch open, wrist-launcher smoking. He’d put a sticky-bomb right on one of the Mech — I thanked every god I could name that I’d left him running, and that he had the autonomy to act like that. I didn’t see anyone else’s going out of their way — Alice’s was still standing like a statue all locked up.
Greg crouched down, hatch springing open, and turned his back to the Guard, who were now pulling their rifles back up, loosing shots wildly into the air.
Rounds pinged off Greg’s arm and shoulder as he put it on the ground, palm open. I stepped into it and he popped me into the air like it was nothing.
My hands hit the edge of the open hatch and my legs swung in, my weight dragging it closed. My heels hit the seat, the grime from the bar smearing across it, but there was no time to think about that now. My hand was screaming, darkening with every passing second. Hitting those two guards hadn’t been a good idea.
I twisted and dropped into the pilot’s chair and the hatch hissed closed. My left hand slotted into the left glove, but the second I tried to get my right in, I realized it’d swollen up and now I couldn’t even make a fist.
“Greg,” I croaked, trying to flex it, looking for the pedals with my feet. “My hand — you’re going to have to work the right arm, I can’t move it.”
My toes found the fronts of the cages and started cycling slowly, moving in time with Greg’s gallop as he circled the street, taking fire from the guards. It was like pea shooters against a tank, but when those Mech got up it would be a different story.
“Affirmative,” Greg said firmly. “What is the mandate?”
“Survive!” I skidded to a halt and tapped the console under my left hand awkwardly. The controls were mirrored on both sides so that either hand could work everything, but I wasn’t used to doing it with my left. I fumbled for the smokescreen and took two attempts to jab it.
Gray mist burst from Greg’s chassis and drowned the street. We needed to get away, and it would provide some cover at least.
I powered forward through the smoke, watching as bullets zipped by and glanced off the hull. “Pull up a map of Notia, we need an exit!”
Greg did, and a 3D image of the station burst into life on the screen in front of me. “There are three possible escape routes,” he said.
Three dotted lines were running away from a green blip in the center of the screen. I could see from the relief of the buildings that it was me — I was the blip. And the red blips around us were the people firing.
I clumsily switched the screen across to infrared and twisted toward them. I didn’t want to, but they weren’t stopping, and I needed to get away. If I could just push them back to a retreat, maybe that would be enough.
“Greg, you work the rifle with the right,” I grunted, heaving my left arm across my body and drawing the pistol off Greg’s waist.
It came up under the rifle as that swung right across our chest and we both started firing. The recoil felt stronger on my left as I squeezed the trigger. The pistol kicked back on my arm and a jolt of pain shot through my wrist. The round punched through the thick smoke and left a clear hole. My aim was shoddy — it was my wrong hand. The plasma fizzed towards the Mech that was still upright and blasted a chunk off its shoulder. I was going for the camera dome. It spun around and let off a stream of fire through the thinning smoke.
I switched my legs around and dug my toes in, kicking sideways with the thrusters out of the path of it. We landed hard and I jostled in the seat, firing into the ground in front of me by accident. I wasn’t as steady as normal without my harness on and my other hand in the glove.
We started running and Greg chased the foot soldiers around with the Samson, conscious not to kill them all. We were still trying to avoid an incident, after all, though I was beginning to think we were already a long way past that.
I zigzagged between the fire of the Mech still shooting and got up close. The pistol swung up and I turned side on, aiming down my arm. I put a round into the body just below the camera dome and it bored into the steel with a shower of sparks. The dome shot into the air and a strangulated scream rang out of the hole in the top of the cockpit. I didn’t think the shot was low enough to hit the pilot, but it may well have bathed in him sparks and chunks of molten steel. I didn’t want to kill him — he was only doing his job — but I wasn’t going to let him burn to death or suffocate in the smoke pouring out of the hole where the camera dome had been. It was hanging off the body by a couple of wires, swinging around as the hands of the Mech clawed at the hatch. I knew inside he was clawing at his head, at his burning flesh.
I grimaced, bit the bullet and pumped two more square into the hull, right where I knew he’d be sitting. He fell still and the Mech toppled backward, dead weight.
I kept moving, not out of the woods yet. The soldiers were still firing, but retreating as well. Their bullets pinged off Greg’s hull and I pulled my left hand up to shield the camera over my head. If that was hit, I’d be totally blind.
Greg roved back and forth with the Samson, chasing them away with expertly placed shots. He winged a couple for good measure, but just with nicks and cuts. Nothing center mass. The other Mech, on the other hand, wasn’t so easily scared. It was already righting itself, despite the chunk of armor missing off its flank, and the arm severed from the forearm down. The sticky bomb had done some damage, but the pilot wasn’t letting it go.
I gritted my teeth and watched as it staggered forward, trying to lift the huge shotgun with one arm. The added weight of it, combined with the lack of weight on the other side, was making it stand at an angle the hips couldn’t accommodate.
I closed one eye and leveled the pistol, swaying in my weak hand, and put a round right through its knee. It sagged sideways and fell on its front with a loud crash. The smoke had all but cleared now and people were beginning to pour out of the bar, bloodied and bruised, escaping the fray.
“We need to get out of here,” I said, turning us to follow one of the dotted escape routes.
I heard the hatch of the downed Mech open behind me, but by that time I was already around the corner and disappearing into the bowels of Notia.
18
I left Greg around back, squatted down so his head didn’t poke over the tops of the roofs, and headed around front.
I knocked twice, waited, and then knocked twice more. That was how Alice had told me to do it, so that she wouldn’t shoot me when she opened the door, though she did have her pistol raised.
It cracked open and the barrel came through first, Alice’s eyes swimming in the darkness behind it. They flitted over my shoulder, and then she lowered the gun, letting her foot out from behind the door.
I pushed in and she snapped it closed behind me, holstering her weapon. She sighed and cracked her neck but didn’t say anything.
Inside was dark. I clocked Everett immediately, leaning against a counter, arms folded, staring intently at the guy on the other side of the room: Smith.
The building looked like an old workshop of sorts. It was abandoned, or at least disused. Dusty boxes were stacked up and had been pushed aside to create space in the middle, and Smith was there, hands behind his back, sitting on the floor with what looked like an old sheet over his head. I could see a broken padlock next to Everett on the counter, and guessed that this was the best they cou
ld do on short notice, since they couldn’t exactly execute Smith out on the streets. The added layer of security had been something that had caught us off guard. The Trading Collective would be looking for him, which meant we needed to stay out of sight.
“Were you followed?” Alice asked quietly, coming up on my shoulder. Smith perked up, his head twitching, but didn’t make a sound. I guessed he was gagged, but I didn’t ask what with.
I turned to her and shook my head. “No, I wouldn’t have come if I was.”
“Are you sure?” She stared at me intently.
“As sure as I can be.” I sighed. “What are we doing here?” My eyes drifted to Smith, bound in the middle of the room.
Alice set her teeth and cast a glance at Everett. “Laying low for a little while. Things at the bar didn’t really go as planned — that extra protection around Smith wasn’t something we anticipated, and I don’t know where it puts us.”
Everett was already walking over. “Nothing has changed. We still need to dispense with Smith, and then we get the hell out of here. Whatever happens, we still need to get this done.”
I kept an eye on Smith, his head moving back and forth as he followed the voices talking about his death. “So what are we standing around for? Let’s get this done.”
Everett rubbed her head. “It’s a long way back to the ship from here, Red, and the place is crawling with TC patrols. A couple have passed by already. They’re looking for Smith, which means there’s something we’re not seeing here. If we just get rid of him, and then they find his body, I really don’t know what that will spark.”
“Then we get rid of the body,” I said.
“Where? Where can we get rid of it that we won’t be absolutely sure it won’t be found? And if it is, and it’s a clear execution, then it’s not long before they trace it back to us. The other Everett is already dead and that’s going to follow us out. Can we really risk leaving another body in our wake?” Everett wasn’t being cold, or even derisive. She was genuinely asking. And what was worse, I didn’t have an answer.
“So what do you suggest?” I muttered.
Everett pursed her lips and looked at Alice before coming back to me. “We either need to be unequivocally sure that Smith isn’t going to turn up anywhere after we’re gone. Or…”
Alice cut in. “Or we need to take him with us. We want to interrogate him, too. But we can’t exactly do that here. If we can get him back to the ship and we can get off Notia, then we can head anywhere we like, get some distance between us and them, and then we can do whatever the hell we want.”
“Do you really see any of that happening without a fight?” I had my arms folded now, and I could feel my hackles rising.
Smith started mumbling through his gag, doing his best to gesticulate, but we all ignored him.
“I don’t know that we have a choice,” Everett said coolly. “But we can’t stay here, I know that much.”
“So how are we going to do this?” My blood was starting to run cold — but not with fear, but more in a cool, emotionless, predatorial sort of way. I could feel my heart steady in my temple.
She swallowed. “Well, we don’t know who is out there waiting for us, or how much resistance we’re going to face. It’s going to be at least twenty, maybe thirty minutes to get back to the ship, and it’s going to take both Alice and me to strong arm him over there.”
Alice and her? But not me? I nodded slowly. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”
She knocked her teeth together a couple times and drew in a slow breath. “We want you in the vanguard. Go ahead of us, tell what you see, and if need be, clear us a path.”
“Clear a path?” I raised an eyebrow. “So we’re past trying to stop this from becoming a galactic incident then?”
Everett narrowed her eyes at me. “Judging by Smith’s entourage and how quickly the TC turned up at the bar, I’d say so.”
I nodded and sighed. “Alright, just so I know where we are. When do you want to go?”
“Sooner is better. Before they find us. They’re spread out, sweeping the station, but as they start crossing sections off, the net closes. I want to be gone by the time that happens.” Everett looked grave, and I could tell that it was totally warranted. If the TC were sweeping the entire station, then it meant that Smith was playing a bigger part than we initially thought.
I clenched my bad hand and felt it throb. I couldn’t make a fist. “Alright. I can do that. I’ll keep them off you. But first… Don’t you think we should at least try to get something out of him? That way, if you have to ditch him, or anything happens, at least we’ll know more than we do now.”
Alice nodded in my peripheral. “It makes sense.”
“And if he screams?” Everett questioned, her tone remarkably harsh considering how quiet it was.
“Then I’ll shut him up,” I growled.
Everett sighed and pulled out her Arcram, cocking it and dialing it up to lethal. “He makes a sound we don’t want him to and I’m putting a bullet in him right here. And then you’re carrying him back.” She nodded at me, her finger tapping on the trigger.
I nodded, walking over to Smith. “Alright.”
I tore the sheet from around his head, and his face, red and sweaty, with bared teeth around an old rag, stared up at me, eyes squinting in the dust. He looked at me, and then at Everett and Alice, and started to laugh.
I ignored it, drawing across my body. I let the pistol hang loosely in my right hand. I couldn’t grip it properly, but I didn’t let it show. “I’m going to take this gag out, and if you make a noise, she’s going to shoot you, alright?”
Smith didn’t stop laughing, his round face and scraggly beard bristling as his mouth moved. His tied-back hair had come loose around his face and half obscured his eyes.
“He’s got a screw loose,” Alice snorted.
I sighed and grabbed the gag out of his mouth. Everett’s pistol leveled at him and stayed there.
Smith continued to chuckle, but kept the volume down. It seemed like he had no real intention of making a fuss. “You guys are so fucked,” he said without even being asked.
“Talk,” I demanded.
He shook his head and then spat on the ground. “What’s left to talk about? You Federation dumb-fucks haven’t got a hope in hell of getting out of here alive. They’re going to hunt you down and kill every last one of you.”
“Who is?” I asked. If he wanted to talk, I’d let him.
“The TC, dumb-shit.”
I let the name calling go. “Why are the TC after you? You finally step on their toes with your phony Iskcara deals? Cross the wrong person?”
Smith shook his head and snickered. “Boy, do you guys not know anything? I heard the Federation weren’t big on schooling, but Goddamn.”
“Spit it out,” Everett hissed, moving forward. “Where’s the Iskcara? Who’s your source? Where’s Fox?”
He perked up at the name. “Fox?”
“Kat Fox,” I grunted. “We know you were on Telmareen with her, and that you got off that fucking planet…” I screwed my face up. “…somehow, with her. And then you ended up here, slinging Iskcara. So talk — how’d you get here, and where’s the Iskcara?”
He shook his head. “Fucking hell, guys, there is no Iskcara.” He laughed a little again. “I know that the Federation isn’t allowed to set foot on Notia, so if you guys are here it’s not sanctioned by the TC, and—”
“Who says we’re Federation?” Alice had her arms folded. She shrugged indifferently. “Maybe we’re just a couple of mercs hired to take you out. Maybe we’re the Free, finally catching up to you.”
“Wow.” Smith looked at her for a few seconds. “You guys really don’t get it, do you?”
Everett was grinding her teeth. “Enlighten us.”
“Or what?”
“Or I put a bullet in your gut.”
“I’ll probably scream if you do.”
“Then I’ll gag you first,” she
said through gritted teeth.
Smith started smiling. “It wouldn’t matter if I told you the whole story — you’d never get off Notia with it, and even if you did, no one would believe you.”
“Try us,” I said.
He sighed slowly, stalling. I was getting anxious and I could see Everett fingering the trigger. “The Free, the Federation, the Trading Collective. So many sides. And they all want the same thing.”
“And what’s that?” Alice snorted.
“Peace.”
Everett sneered. “The Free don’t want peace. They want unrest. They want war. Rebellions. Revolution. And the TC just want money. It’s what they’ve always wanted!”
He beamed at her. “Do they now? You think that the Free are picking fights with the big bad Federation? Jesus Christ. That’s rich. No, contrary to popular belief, sweetheart, it’s the Federation who are the warmongers. They’re the one making the warships, and the Mech, and the fucking bombs they’re dropping on peaceful farmers because their smecka grows on top of mineral deposits that need to be dug up, refined, and then sold off, just to eventually end up on some stuck-up bitch’s neck on a chain.” He spat again and muttered something in a language I didn’t understand. If English wasn’t his first language, it was still pretty impeccable. “The Free just want to be left alone, but what they won’t do is let the innocent get trampled under the hooves of the Federation cavalry as they march across the universe, knocking off one… planet… at a time.” He drew the last words out, insisting on them.
None of us said anything for a few seconds.
“Did you leave Telmareen with Fox?” I said.
“Yes,” he answered plainly.
“Then she was there. How? How’d you do it? We hit the guard tower, but there was no sign of any of you.”
“Ah, now that would be telling.” He met my eyes. It looked like he was enjoying it. “So that was you lot, huh? Same ones got tricked into hitting that transport?” He grinned with yellow teeth. “And I suppose it was also you that finished of Kera, Dak, and Oki?”