Running Black

by J. M. Anjewierden

  Morgan paused to think that over. That would explain how they’d gotten so far without being stopped or attacked. At the same time, it felt like a bad idea to rely on the incompetence of their enemy.

  “Maybe, but we should hurry anyway.”

  “Well yeah, ship still incomin’,” Linda said.

  Hurrying they were… but to where?

  All of the men’s uplinks were locked without proper biometrics, and she hadn’t been able to access the computer to find a map… not that she had an uplink to download it into in any case. All Morgan knew for sure was that they were on the same level they had been before, and roughly in what direction the lift and the prison holding all the ladies lay.

  Beyond that, it was guesswork, and Linda knew even less about the layout than Morgan did.

  Maybe I should have taken one of them prisoner? Morgan thought. No, too risky. Even if the jamming is still up, which it might not be, given it messes with their communication as much as ours, and as Linda pointed out, they caught all of us, there are plenty of ways for a few careless seconds to turn into the captive turning captor or to call for his buddies.

  They paused in another four-way intersection, Morgan trying to decide which way to go, when Linda spoke again.

  “What was the rest of yer plan, anyway?”

  “Get weapons, free the others, get off this rock.”

  “No, I mean, you mentioned something about this being your backup. What was the main plan?”

  Fair enough. She is out here risking her life with me. “Before they forced me to surrender, I was in the conduits for a bit. I was able to tie my uplink in to the umbilical running from the station to my ship, and slip a message out to warn them. I think, anyway, there wasn’t any way to be sure it worked, especially given I had to try and disguise the signal as part of the sensor feed.”

  “That sounds very complicated. Also doesn’t sound like something any uplink I’ve ever seen could pull off.”

  “Well, mine is a bit…” Morgan cut off her sentence with a curse as she shoved Linda back against the wall. Blast it, I let myself get distracted, she thought even as she brought her rifle up.

  There was a pair of pirates standing in the next intersection, backs to them and chatting about something. Across from them there was a cargo crate, on top of which there were two rifles, same type as the others she’d seen.

  They also had pistols holstered at their hips, and neither was in a skinsuit.

  The range was long for pistol rounds, at least accurate fire, but not for the rifle.

  The bigger issue, though, was them getting a message out.

  Morgan emptied her lungs in one quick breath, bringing up the rifle.

  Under other circumstances, she’d offer to let them surrender, but these weren’t those, and far more people were counting on her than just Linda.

  Center torso, just like on the range, she thought, thumbing the selector over to single fire, penetrator, and then firing twice.

  “Stay here,” Morgan ordered Linda, as soon as she could hear her own voice again. Forget the armor; right now, I’d want my suit purely for the noise cancellation features. Blasted rifle is loud.

  “In case more come?” Linda said, bringing her pistol up to the ready as she turned to face the way they came.

  “That too,” Morgan said. Not pretty, what penetrator rounds do to unarmored targets.

  Morgan could tell as soon as she got close that the men would have died instantly, which was a comfort to her, and probably to the pirates as well. She had to step in the already-pooling blood to get their pistols and spare magazines for the rifles, the wet feeling of her feet on the floor as she walked over to the rifles causing her to shudder.

  The pistols fit in her makeshift pouch, and the rifles had straps so she could sling them over her shoulder with the other one, but the magazines were proving tricky.

  As it was, the weight of the pouch was threatening to pull her makeshift belt off entirely, and four spare magazines of the large penetrator rounds would surely finish the job.

  She couldn’t just leave them behind, but what else could she do?

  I don’t think Linda’s overall pockets are big enough, but let’s see. Morgan trotted back over to her companion, holding up the two newly scavenged magazines. “You got anywhere to put these? We’ve got four now, and I’m a bit short on pockets.”

  Linda muttered something that sounded something like, ‘yer a bit short on everything.’ Then, a bit clearer, she added, “Let me see.”

  As Morgan had feared, pockets didn’t work. Linda tried several ways, but then just shrugged.

  “All right, hand them all over,” she said, stuffing the first down the front of her overalls, then the other three in turn.

  “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Morgan asked, looking at the four bulges on either side of Linda’s stomach between skin and overalls.

  Linda shrugged again.

  “A bit, but not much else we can do. Did that intersection have any labeling?”

  “Right, I didn’t even check,” Morgan said, heading back down. “Left is hydroponics, right apparently leads back towards the engineering spaces.”

  “Hydroponics? Great!” Linda said, moving towards Morgan at a fast pace.

  “It is?”

  “Yep, that’s close to where the men are, some of them, anyway.”

  “Good. We should keep quiet as we move. I’m not sure where most of the pirates are, but there will definitely be some there.”

  “Bored stiff and looking the wrong way,” Linda pointed out.

  “Hopefully. Come on then.”

  ***

  This station must feel like a tomb even under normal conditions, Morgan thought as they continued. For never having left the single level of the station, they had covered quite a large amount of distance. They were in what looked to be crew quarters now, and the silence was both reassuring and worrisome. The pirates had to have settled in somewhere, and if they were largely staying on this one level, this was the logical spot. Hopefully, any of the pirates actually in this area were sleeping between shifts.

  Relying on luck, never a good idea.

  As if proving that very point, the hatch Morgan was passing in that moment opened, revealing a bleary-eyed pirate. Which of the two was more surprised, Morgan didn’t know, but she already could tell her reaction came too slow. She had to swing her rifle around; he was already facing her within arm’s reach.

  His left reached out, smacking the end of her rifle away from him, even as the right snaked out and around Morgan, pulling her in close in a bear hug, one arm pinned to her side, the spare rifles digging painfully into her back.

  “What have we here?” he asked, heaving Morgan bodily from the ground, her feet dangling at least a half meter off the floor.

  “Someone you’re going to put down, real slow-like,” Linda answered, and her pistol tapped against the side of his head. “Didn’t see me, didja? Don’t do naught stupid, now. Keep your mouth all sewed up.”

  The pirate swore, quietly, but did as he was told.

  Shouldering her rifle, Morgan looked him over, verifying that he had no uplink or other radio device.

  “Let’s get him back in his room,” she suggested.

  Without taking her pistol off him, Linda gestured into the room with her head.

  Morgan followed the pair through the doorway, instantly disgusted at the state of the room. Trash and clothes tossed everywhere, partially-eaten food sitting on the tables, and defaced and destroyed personal belongings mixed in among the trash.

  Judging by the kinds of clothes tossed around, Morgan assumed the room originally belonged to one of the female employees of the station.

  “You see anything we can tie him up with?” Morgan asked Linda as she started sifting through it all. State of this place, I really, really wish I had shoes.

  “Nothing immediately stands out,” Linda answered, before adding for the pirate, “Park yer rear on the couch. Slowly.”


  There was a duffel bag next to the soiled bed, something that looked like the pirate had brought with him.

  Digging into that, Morgan found a pistol and two magazines, which she added to her pouch. At the bottom, she found a pair of handcuffs, the kind that were pure mechanical, no computer link or electronic lock.

  “This will do,” Morgan said, looking about for a bar or something. “Over by the wall, pirate.”

  If he was going to try anything, this would be the time, Morgan knew as she got the first bracelet on his wrist. She was careful to keep Linda’s angle of fire free, and after a few tense moments, it was done.

  The pirate made some crude remarks about the cuffs, but Morgan just ignored him.

  She was about to leave when she realized she was missing something obvious. Crossing back over to the bed, she dumped the contents of the duffel bag and then crammed all her weapons, besides the one rifle, inside.

  “Hand over the spares?” she asked Linda.

  They both ignored the further crude remarks from the pirate as Linda pulled the magazines out of her overalls. They fit in the bag, just barely.

  “Can you even lift that thing?” Linda asked, eyeing it with a very disbelieving look on her face. “I don’t think I could for more than a minute or so.”

  Morgan just shrugged.

  “What did they keep the gravity at, on your family’s ship?”

  “Three-quarter g. Cheaper that way, without being too light.”

  “I grew up on Hillman. Two gravities, and lots of physical labor besides.”

  For some reason, this set the pirate laughing. Somehow, this was harder to ignore than his crude remarks.

  “You got something to say?” Morgan asked, turning around to face him. She took up her rifle again, but did not have it pointed at him. Yet.

  He swore a few more times, made a crude remark, and then laughed again before finally answering.

  “Just the irony. All this? Paid for by the people you tried to run away from. Oh, don’t deny it, every spacer worth their salt knows what kind of place Hillman is, and how hard it is to leave. Hell, its so hard to leave even the leaders can’t manage it, which is why they hired us.”

  “Hillman is behind all this?” Morgan asked, though it was barely a formality. She’d suspected as much ever since running into Thirty-four.

  “Of course they are. Who else in this boring part of the galaxy would be desperate enough to take on Parlon?”

  “You lot took the job, didn’t you?”

  He snorted.

  “Yeah, but we won’t be left holding the bag after. In, loot, and out, all the nice soft targets while Hillman deludes itself into thinking their so-new-it-hurts navy can stand up to Zion and Albion.”

  “Why are ya telling us this?” Linda asked.

  The pirate did as close an approximation to a shrug as he probably could while handcuffed to a grab bar above his head.

  “Personal amusement. I want her to know that she didn’t escape far enough. That she can never escape Hillman.”

  “Leave him be,” Morgan said, with barely controlled rage. “Bullet will just risk alerting the others.”

  “I’m right. You’ll see.”

  Morgan headed to the hatch, but Linda paused, looking about the room.

  “Did you want to see if any of the clothes will fit?”

  Morgan shuddered, shaking her head.

  “After he’s been living in here for weeks? I’d rather walk onto the bridge naked than touch any of these clothes.”

  The pirate was still laughing as they walked out, the mocking sound only ending as the hatch closed between them.

  Chapter 30

  Boredom is one of the primary killers of soldiers. Don’t believe me? Okay, think over your career as enlisted men, both in attacking and defending. How many sentries, how many guards, end up dead because they got complacent and missed something approaching their position? How many let inattention dull their senses and blunt their reaction times?

  - Master Sergeant Lily Bradakis, instructor, Officer Candidacy School, Albion Marine Corps.

  Sgt. Eck

  ECK COULD do nothing put pace, and repetitive motions only served to heighten his anxiety as each lap around the holding room reinforced the unanswered questions in his mind.

  Is Morgan okay? How bad was that head wound? Has anyone on STEVE figured out what is going on? How long until the pirate ship gets here? Those were only some of the things rushing through his head far faster than his slow footfalls took him around the room yet again, staring out through the transparent aluminum at the guards playing cards.

  If it had been glass, we could have at least tried to break through, rush them. Their rifles aren’t even within reaching distance, sloppy work.

  Max didn’t worry that he was criticizing them for something that might be to his benefit. Beyond the contradiction, there was also the small personal shame at having been captured by such unprofessional troops.

  It wasn’t logical. He knew that, but it didn’t stop the shame. Their position had been spectacularly bad; even rank amateurs could have pulled off such a capture, but it still rankled him.

  Max sighed mentally, followed by sighing physically.

  Best news of the day is I now have pants and shoes on. How massively pathetic is that?

  His pity party was interrupted about then, which was just as well. Self-pitying frowns were not attractive on a man. Something was going on; all three guards dropped their cards and leapt to attention. Max stopped pacing and looked as several more pirates came into view, including the leader, the one Morgan had roughed up.

  Max indulged in a momentary smirk as he noticed that the man had two black eyes forming, a split lip, and what looked to be a bit of dried blood on one ear. Had he not been wearing armor, saving him from most of the punishing body blows, Max was sure the man would have died there on the floor.

  The leader pointed toward the prisoner’s room, and two of the guards nodded and moved to grab their rifles while the third moved toward the door.

  “Right,” the unarmed man said, striding into the room, and gesturing at a nearby group of men. “You five come with me.”

  “What for?” the station’s second officer – the highest-ranking person present – asked.

  “Doesn’t concern you,” the pirate said.

  “Of course it does. Where are you taking my men?”

  It would seem that the leader was getting impatient, as he came in behind his flunky.

  “Get moving or I start shooting people,” he said. From where he was standing, Max had a good look at his face.

  “You’re bluffing,” the officer said.

  Max mentally swore, stepping over to the officer’s side.

  “No, no, he isn’t,” Max said quietly. “Now is probably not the best time to make waves.”

  “Someone with a brain? Astounding,” the leader said. “Oh, and bring him too,” he said, pointing to Anders.

  “You want someone from off STEVE?” Max said, pretending not to realize he was doing exactly what he’d just warned the officer against. “Take me.”

  “No, he’ll do,” the leader said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you want me to, and you annoy me. I saw how you were treating the little…”

  Max didn’t even hear the slur the leader was using for Morgan, he’d already started forward, landing a blow to the man’s jaw before anyone else had a moment to react. The crunch was satisfying to hear… though from how his hand was hurting, Max wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’d cracked his own hand as well as the man’s jaw.

  The first pirate kicked Max in the back of the knee, forcing him to the floor. Max looked up in time to see another pirate step over and physically grab the hand of the leader that was reaching for his pistol.

  “We don’t have time for this,” the one in the back said loudly. “Get moving, all six of you.”

  “He punched me,” the leader said, his voice hard to
understand as he clutched at his jaw.

  “Yeah, well, what did you expect to happen?” the first pirate said. “Move it. Our boss takes orders from you, but we only take orders from him, and he wants us all down to the airlock now.”

  “Go with them,” the officer ordered, “quietly.”

  Once the pirates had pulled back, Bolton helped Max stand up.

  “That was stupid,” Bolton said.

  “Yeah, well, it was the right thing to do,” Max countered.

  “Didn’t say it wasn’t.”

  “Fair enough,” Max said, laughing and wincing as he rubbed his hand.

  “What do you think that was about?” the officer asked.

  “Good news, actually,” Max said, giving the room a smile before continuing. “I can only think of one reason they’d want prisoners – hostages – down by the airlock, especially since they also took Anders along.”

  “Standoff?” Bolton asked.

  “Yep. STEVE must have gotten wind of what is going on.”

  “Doesn’t that mean those six men are in a lot of danger right now?” the miner officer said, sounding none too pleased. Again, fair enough, Max wasn’t too pleased about that part, either.

  “Yes, but then, so are all of us here, since we were captured. Long term, they won’t be able to hold out, especially once the LT gets some troops out to the emergency airlocks and forces their way in so they can surround the pirates. There simply aren’t enough of them for a station this big.”

  “How do you know? We’re only guessing at how many they have?” one of the other miners asked.

  Max shrugged.

  “Simple factor of size. They can’t know where Marigold will send her men, and in any mining installation, the empty areas vastly outnumber the amount the people can physically occupy.”

  “And if they start shooting us?” another asked.

  “They won’t,” Max answered, forcing himself to sound more confident than he felt, though he did feel confident about it, “they do that, and when this is all over, they get tossed into space as pirates, whatever their pretentions of being ‘privateers’ were.”