The Furthest Planet

by James Ross Wilks

  “Because the automatons aren’t attacking him,” Overton said, and Staples realized that he was right. One of the robots bounded right past the bald man and grabbed hold of a fleeing woman, dragging her backwards by her hair.

  Without looking at him, Dinah said, “Do it” to Overton. A second later, Overton pumped the remaining four rounds into the robot. It tumbled to the ground, its robotic guts spread across the floor, and the woman wrenched her hair free and ran off into the uproar without a word of gratitude or a backwards glance.

  “Dinah Hazra!” the stranger smiled. “Would you believe I’ve been looking everywhere for you?” He spoke as if they were old friends.

  Dinah did not respond. Instead she waited, balanced on the balls of her feet.

  “You’re hard to find. I see you had that foot replaced.” The man continued to smile. He was only a few meters away now, but he had given no indication of hostility. He strolled as though they were in a park, not a place of carnage.

  Staples had just noticed that there was something off about his movements, something unnatural, when the man surged forward. There was no warning. He was simply walking one second and throwing a punch at Dinah the next.

  Impossibly, Dinah was ready. She blocked the blow with her forearm, but the hit staggered her nonetheless and she reeled two steps to the side before she caught herself. The man moved forward again with a left jab aimed at her midsection. Dinah barely avoided it by twisting to the side. She attempted to use the momentum to land a blow of her own, but the man ducked easily, smiling all the while.

  “Tisk-tisk, Dinah,” he said. “You used to be so good!”

  A flurry of blows followed, almost faster than Staples could track. The man moved with preternatural speed, and it was all Dinah could do to block or dodge. Every hit she caught on a forearm caused her to stagger, as though the man were swinging sledgehammers instead of fists. There was no opportunity for Dinah to fight back.

  Staples had no idea what to do. Jabir had backed away. He was no fighter, she knew. She had about as much chance of hurting this attacker as she did of sprouting wings and flying her crew to safety. Evelyn was still typing like a creature possessed, and Overton looked as if he were standing by to help Dinah, though if she couldn’t handle this man, Staples had no idea who could. Were she not seeing it, she would not have believed that anyone could pummel her chief engineer the way this man was.

  Dinah was losing. Staples could see that, and she was powerless to do anything about it. Dinah ducked two blows, caught a third and fourth on her forearms, and then staggered to her right as a fifth slipped past her defenses and caught her in the shoulder. The shift in position brought the bald man’s back to Overton, and he seized the opportunity to leap at him.

  Before Overton could get a hand on him, the man casually threw a hand behind him and slapped Overton across the face. Staples heard a crack that she hoped was not his neck. Carl Overton was thrown five meters away where he landed in a groaning pile.

  Dinah took advantage of the moment to move forward, firing off rapid fire jabs at the man’s face and body. This was the woman, Staples reminded herself, who had beaten two former prison guards to bloody pulps without receiving a single blow in return. Their attacker blocked each one of her efforts as though he were batting away the efforts of a child. His face grew bored for a moment, and then he smiled with sadistic pleasure and pushed past Dinah’s guard.

  The first punch landed in her stomach, and the breath was driven from her in a shocking burst. The next blow hit her in the kidney, and Dinah grunted audibly. Finally the man brought up his elbow and slammed it into the side of Dinah’s head. She was knocked unceremoniously to the ground, where she lay unmoving and unconscious.

  “Now then,” he said, and smiled at Staples. There was no doubt in her mind that this man intended to kill all of them and that there was not a thing she could do to stop him.

  Suddenly a gunshot sounded and the man spasmed. Before he could react, five more shots came in rapid succession, and his body jerked with each one. The sympathetic smile did not leave his face, but he slithered to the ground nonetheless. Behind him stood a woman that Staples did not recognize. Mid-length brown hair was tied back from the woman’s face in a ponytail, and her eyes were dark and intense. She had thin lips, a small nose, and rosy cheeks. Her clothing was casual and nondescript, and she was holding a smoking pistol extended.

  Jabir bent down to check on Dinah as the woman strode purposely forward, lowering her pistol in the process.

  “Thank you,” Staples stammered. “I’m afraid we don’t have a ship. It was stolen. We can’t help you escape.”

  “Relax, Clea,” the woman said, a quirky grin on her face.

  Several seconds passed while Staples placed the voice. “Jordan?” she asked incredulously.

  The woman tipped her a wink, then moved to Overton, who was attempting and failing to get to his feet.

  “But… you’re dead. You literally died in my arms,” Staples objected as she moved to help her new first mate as well.

  “Lovely bit of drama, that,” the woman Staples had known alternatively as Janae, Jordan, and Jessica by turns said. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime.” She tucked her pistol into a holster on her hip and hoisted Overton to his feet. He looked around blearily.

  “I think you probably should,” Staples said as she came on Overton’s other side. “Carl, are you okay?”

  Overton squinted at her and nodded weakly. He looked at the body of the man who had struck him. The bald man lay prone and face down on the ground, and the six bullet holes in his back were plainly visible. Staples was surprised at the lack of blood.

  “I promise, if we survive, to regale you all you want,” Jordan said. “But first we need a way out of here.”

  “I…” Staples began, and she looked at Evelyn.

  Amazingly, the woman had not moved. Through the fight, the chaos around them, and the gunshots, she had continued to work at the panel.

  “One more minute, Clea,” Evelyn said, showing at least that she was aware of her surroundings. Agonizing seconds passed by while Jabir attempted to rouse Dinah and Overton managed to stand unassisted. The people around them had thinned. A few hid in doorways or ran by. One woman jogged by doing her best to haul a suitcase overflowing with clothing. For the moment, at least, there were no automatons in evidence.

  “Okay,” Evelyn said, stepping away from the panel. “I’ve freed up a ship, the Tyger. Berth nineteen.” She looked down the concourse.

  “You mean we can take it?” Overton asked. His speech was somewhat slurred, and Staples could see that his jaw was already swelling. It wouldn’t surprise her if it was broken.

  “Yes,” Evelyn replied. She and Jabir managed to pick the still unconscious Dinah up, each of them resting one of her arms around their shoulders. Her head sagged, a line of saliva trailed from her mouth, and her boots dragged on the bloodstained carpet. Overton was able to move under his own power, but he leaned on Jordan, and she helped propel him forward. Evelyn led the way down the concourse, and Staples brought up the rear. When they were halfway to the nineteenth berth, Staples glanced back at the door they had left and the body on the ground. A fresh wave of fear surged through her.

  The man was getting to his feet. His eyes swept the receiving area and came to rest on hers. He smiled his sympathetic grin again and began to pursue them.

  “Run!” Staples cried.

  They did the best they could. Fortunately, the man seemed to have been at least wounded by the six bullets that Staples would have sworn had killed him. He half-walked, half-stumbled, but his gait improved with every step.

  A minute later, they were at berth nineteen. Evelyn paused to quickly type in an access code, and the door opened smoothly.

  Just as they were about to enter the tubeway, Overton asked, “What about Ian?”

  Staples looked at the man shambling towards them like a zombie. The dead room full of broken bodies, blood, and th
e occasional unaffected automaton looked like a killing field. They had perhaps a minute before the man who had nearly killed Dinah reached them.

  “We have to leave him,” Staples said. “If he’s still alive, he’s on his own for now.”

  Overton nodded, and then they were through the doorway and Evelyn was closing and locking the door behind them on the inside panel.

  They dragged Dinah down the tubeway. When they were nearly at the door to the unfamiliar ship, Staples looked over her shoulder. The bald man’s face, a rictus on his lips, stared at her from one of the windows. For a moment she thought that the man would attempt to break through the doors. She believed that he might be strong enough to do so, but she reasoned what the man had likely already figured out. When they got inside the ship, they could depressurize the tubeway. The man might be superhuman, but she doubted that he could survive in the thin Martian atmosphere.

  Evelyn entered another code in the panel outside the ship, and the door slid open. Staples had no idea what kind of vessel the Tyger was, but she supposed it didn’t matter. It was a chance at survival, and they had to take it.

  “You realize, Captain,” Jabir said, “That if we take this ship, we may be condemning its legitimate crew to death in Tranquility. They may come to take their vessel only to find it stolen, just as we did.”

  Staples nodded. “I know. It’s a terrible thing to do, but we have no way of knowing if the crew is even alive. I’m not willing to trade people who are living for people who might be.”

  They clambered inside a small cargo bay and headed for the elevator at the back.

  “Just as long as you’re aware,” Jabir replied.

  “We could wait here in case they show up,” Overton offered.

  “Not a good idea,” Jordan said.

  Evelyn shook her head as well. “I hacked the berth control system to release the docking clamps,” she said. “I can’t guarantee that whoever or whatever that was won’t be able to reverse that. If we don’t leave in the next few minutes, we may not be able to.”

  “Did you hack into the ship as well?” Jabir asked Evelyn.

  “Yup,” she replied. “The computer core tied into berth control automatically when they docked. Snapdragon classes are pretty new; lots of integrated systems.”

  “Told you…” Dinah mumbled. “…analog…better.”

  As they reached the elevator, Staples said, “Jabir, you and Overton get Dinah to medical if you can find it. Jordan, Evelyn, and I will get to the cockpit and detach us. I don’t know if I can fly this thing. I’m not really a pilot.”

  “I should be able to manage, Clea,” Jordan said.

  The Tyger was barely half the size of Gringolet, so it didn’t take them long to find the cockpit. Evelyn supplied them with the command codes that she had plucked from the computer core during her hack, and Jordan took the flight controls. The ship did not move as smoothly as it would have under Bethany’s hands, but it moved, and that was all Staples cared about. A few minutes later they were headed for space.

  Staples took the navigation seat, a position she had at least a minimum of experience with, and Evelyn manned coms.

  “Evelyn, see if you can raise some local news. I want to know what’s going on down there. Is it city wide?”

  “I’ll try. Mostly all I’m getting is emergency bands.” Evelyn worked at the unfamiliar coms station in an attempt to isolate an active transmission.

  “From Tranquility?” Staples asked.

  “No, Captain,” she looked up in consternation. “From Mars.”

  Staples turned her stunned gaze to the window. The red planet curved away below them. There were seven cities on Mars and perhaps a dozen smaller colonies. Nearly two million people lived on the fourth world from the sun. “How many?” Staples whispered. “How many are dead?”

  “Thousands,” Jordan replied, her eyes on the controls in front of her. “Probably tens of thousands if the robots went crazy everywhere. Speaking of which, you don’t seem overly curious as to the cause behind all of this, and I think I’d like to know why.”

  “That… does deserve an explanation, but it’s not a short one,” Staples replied, still in awe at the magnitude of unseen death beneath them. “What we need to figure out is what to do next. And who the hell took my ship.”

  “I saw a list of recent arrivals and departures when I was looking for a good ship for us,” Evelyn said.

  Staples looked at her expectantly.

  “One caught my eye,” Evelyn said. “It was the Doris Day.”

  Chapter 9

  “Who the hell is Doris Day?” Jordan asked.

  “An actress from the twentieth, apparently,” Staples replied. “It’s also the name of a ship that belongs to a man I know.”

  “Not a friend, I take it?” Jordan asked.

  “Not hardly. Logan Vey is… an unscrupulous man,” Staples said.

  “Picture Clea,” Evelyn offered, “but male, three times as heavy, and without a conscience.”

  Jordan squinted at Staples. “That’s… a really unsettling image. And not very flattering to our captain here.”

  “It’s actually good news, in a way,” Staples said. “If Vey and his crew stole Gringolet, which I think they must have, then our friends are still alive.”

  “What’s your reasoning behind that, Clea?” Jordan asked as she looked over the flight controls in front of her and made small adjustments.

  “We’ve tangled with Vey before. I think he’s capable of murder, but in my experience, he’s avoided it whenever possible. He once pinged an unarmed missile off Dinah’s UteV just to make a point. He has a reputation for smuggling, maybe even a little bit of piracy, but his crew’s no kill squad. And we know who he’s working for.”

  “I don’t know who he’s working for,” Jordan objected.

  “It’s- Evelyn?” Staples was looking at the redheaded woman with concern.

  Evelyn was holding up her right hand; it was shaking violently. “Captain,” she said. “I think something’s wrong.”

  “Jordan, cut thrust for a minute,” Staples said. The sensation of being pressed back into her seat faded, and Staples pushed herself away from the navigation station and over to Evelyn. When she arrived, she stabilized herself and took the woman’s hand.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” Evelyn said. She held up her other hand, which was also trembling severely. “I’m fine,” she tried to assure her captain, but even as she said it, Staples could see tremors begin in her jaw. Her jugular pulsed wildly in the hollow of her throat, and a second later she began to quiver all over.

  “Evelyn,” Staples said, trying to make eye contact. “Listen to me. You’re in shock. You’ve just been through an extremely trying experience, and-”

  “Are they going to kill them?” Evelyn asked, her eyes wide. “Are they going to kill Gwen? Are they going to kill a little girl?”

  Staples shook her head slowly. She spoke in low, soothing tones. “No, they’re not, Evelyn. If they wanted them dead, there would be no reason to take the ship once they were on board. Vey has his own ship, and it’s newer and faster than Gringolet.” She clasped both of Evelyn’s hands together in hers, hooking a foot under the panel so that she wouldn’t drift away. Evelyn’s tremors were so severe that Staples’ arms shook as well.

  “We know who hired Vey, and they can’t be more than a few hours ahead of us. We’ll catch them and we’ll take the ship back,” Staples assured her.

  Jordan snorted in laughter at that, but Staples ignored her.

  “What we’re going to do right now is get you down to the medical bay and Jabir is going to give you something to calm you down. Would that be all right?”

  Evelyn was breathing rapidly, but she seemed to be hearing Staples. “How many people did we just see die? How many people are dead on Mars, Clea?”

  “I don’t know.” Staples shook her head again. “Too many. But we’re not dead, and our friends aren’t dead, so we’re going to go
get them. Right?”

  Slowly, Evelyn nodded her head. “Right.”

  “Okay then,” Staples said, then set about unstrapping the woman so that she could lead her down to medical once she figured out where it was.

  As Staples guided Evelyn out of the room, Jordan said, “Lord Almighty, where’d you find that one, Clea?”

  Staples turned around for a second. “I’m really glad you’re not dead, Jordan, but please, don’t be a bitch right now.”

  Five minutes later, Staples was back in the cockpit of the Tyger. The controls were digital, the room was smaller, and there was a lot of fancy bells and whistles, but overall the cockpit resembled the half-dozen other rooms she’d seen like it on other ships. Having never seen a Snapdragon class before, she had no real sense of what the ship looked like from the outside, and it made her feel disconnected from the vessel and their reality. She made a mental note to pull up a schematic and pictures from the computer when she had a minute.

  “You get her all stowed?” Jordan asked from her seat at the flight controls.

  “She’s not a piece of luggage, but yes.” Staples strapped herself back into the astrogation station.

  “She might as well be right now,” Jordan said.

  Staples resisted the urge to argue with the woman. Jordan had been in the business of corporate espionage, covert missions, blackmail, and high-stress situations for so long that she had likely forgotten what it was like for civilians. Though much of what had befallen the crew of Gringolet over the past five months was unprecedented for them, prior to that Staples had fought off pirates and black-market thugs on occasion. Her pre-Victor captaincy might not have been like Jordan’s life of cloak and dagger, but she was no stranger to peril.

  Instead of arguing, she pointed out, “We wouldn’t have this ship if it weren’t for her.”

  “The girl’s got some skills, I’ll grant her that. Doesn’t do much good if she falls apart like that, but I guess as long as she waits until after the fact…”

  “Don’t you have a story to tell me?” Staples asked, not only curious but hoping to change the subject.