Starfire and the Space Dragons: A Grennig Crew Adenture

by Christine Westhead

  “You have put yourself in danger on my behalf again, friend Hal. The cameras…”

  “They disabled them, Vermillion,” said Hal, “and I don’t think they’ll be putting in a complaint, do you?” They walked back to the hotel in silence for a while, then Vermillion said, suddenly,

  “We could find out which hotel they worked for and put in a complaint.”

  “They don’t work for any hotel, Vermillion, they don’t work anywhere. They just got friends who work in the hotels to get them the uniforms. They probably get a cut of the spoils.” He sighed, gently, “You got a good heart, Vermillion and you don’t see the bad in anything. Look, how many people are here, walking round, havin’ fun? I told you, it only takes one to screw everything up.” They walked along some more, then Vermillion stopped and looked at him.

  “How long had you been there, watching?”

  “Long enough to show you the other side of the outside world.” When they were in the aircar, on the way to their rooms, Vermillion said,

  “I do not like the outside world, Hal. I want to go home.”

  “We can’t go till we’ve heard back from Serrell,” said Hal as he stood back to allow Vermillion into their suite. He saw her placed in the room and sat down opposite the android.

  “Please, re-join your friends,” said Vermillion in her own voice. “I give you my word I will not venture from this room again unless you are with me.” It sounded a little odd; a gentle, woman’s voice coming from a tall, handsome man. Hal wasn’t very intuitive, but even he could sense that Vermillion was very upset. The fact that she had used her own voice was testament to that.

  “I’ll just stay here till the others get back,” he said. He leant back on the plush couch, crossed his ankles over the edge of the coffee table and linked his hands behind his head. “Just keep watch for me,” he said softly, giving the android something to do.

  “Hal?”

  “Huh?” he opened his eyes.

  “People were hurt because of me.”

  “Yeah, well, it could have been a lot worse,” said Hal.

  “Yes Hal, you are correct. I could have damaged Delta Ten’s body and it was not mine to put at risk.”

  “No, I don’t mean that,” began Hal, “usually I shoot to kill but I knew that would upset you. I had to take the time to pick my targets and something could have gone wrong.”

  The door to the suite opened a couple of hours later and Hal leapt to his feet to face it, gun in hand.

  “Where did you get to?” asked Raan, seemingly unconcerned by the big blaster that pointed at his stomach. Hal holstered the weapon and caught a fat, luxury cigarillo that Raan threw to him. “These were complimentary so I got one for you. They got a red band setting,” he pointed to it with a smirk. Hal shook his head with a sigh.

  “What does that mean?” asked Rigondal. They had all come up to the suite for coffee and to discuss their plans further.

  “You don’t want to know, Princess,” drawled Hal, softly, and Rigondal blushed. She had carried a torch for the cold eyed, laconic gunman while they were all together on Katraia, and there was still a faint little flicker there. Everyone settled themselves in the room and Erion stood up for the final briefing.

  “It’s pretty much decided then,” she began, “Any of the Terrellians who live with our friends on Serrell, may go to Katraia. We will have the numbers later, but I’m pretty sure it will be all of them. As for the political prisoners, we won’t know how many until we hear back from Serrell.” She turned to Hal, “Would you and Delta Ten go and see if there is a reply yet?”

  “Yeah, sure.” They went back to the Grennig and Vermillion tried to contact Serrell before turning to Hal. “I cannot send or receive. I think it is because something is blocking my signal.”

  “Is it deliberate?” asked Hal, changing his stance from watchful to ready.

  “No, friend Hal. This planet has moved in the last fifteen hours. Perhaps a satellite is blocking transmissions or there is a weather problem in the atmosphere. If we are in orbit, we can move to get a clear path.”

  It took a bit of doing, but the Starport agreed to let the Grennig take off for one orbit and return, without having to pay extra landing fees. Even though Vermillion insisted that money would not be a problem, Starfire had found out that communication problems were not uncommon on the little planet because of the vast amount of air traffic it received. Used to living on a Pilot’s salary, and then on even less for the Rebel Alliance, she refused to pay the extra when it wasn’t their fault and won her case. Starfire took off in the Grennig and they slowly climbed up into the atmosphere. Once they were in the clear, black sky above Aquitaine, Vermillion did her thing and nodded with satisfaction.

  “I have received the answer to our question, Starfire. King Kaura says they have already started to train the Terrellians for living above ground and everyone will be ready when the time comes. They have not been born on Terrell and lived in its claustrophobic cities so it will not be a problem for them. As far as the prisoners are concerned, they will certainly give them all the option of taking a personality test to see if they are suitable for Katraia, should they wish to go. It will take time to interview all the prisoners, but as soon as they have answers they will send another coded message.”

  “How long till we get our answer?” asked Starfire.

  “At least seven hours, Lieutenant,” answered Vermillion.

  “Well I for one don’t want to sit up here looking at satellites for the next seven hours,” began Starfire. “Raan has promised to take me to the Storybook Dome when we get back.” She watched Vermillion looking excitedly out of the window and marvelled at the difference a real personality made to Delta Ten's features. "Hey, since you're paying for the fuel, would you like to take her for a spin?" she asked.

  "Spin?"

  "You know, take the Grennig out for a while?"

  "I have not piloted a ship for many years, Starfire. Yes, I would like that very much indeed!"

  Chapter 12

  “Starfire should be back by now,” said Erion, slightly cross. It really annoyed her when her crew did not follow protocol, but they weren’t in the Marines anymore and she didn’t force the issue. Raemond and Rigondal had gone back to their suite to get changed and they were all supposed to meeting up for another tour of the complex. Hal stood up, frowning.

  “What’s up?” asked Raan, putting out his cigarillo. Hal’s self-preservation instincts, honed by years of peril where he only had himself to rely on, were mentally shouting for his attention.

  “I don’t know,” said Hal, “something doesn’t feel right.” Before he had finished his sentence, Erion was speaking on her comlink.

  “Starfire; Lieutenant, are you there?” she looked at Raan, “I can’t get through,” Hal, his gun already in his hand, walked to the balcony and looked out.

  “Is it them or us?”

  “Something’s blocking us, I think,” said Erion. “I can’t get Rigondal or Raemond either.” The three of them stood up and grabbed their jackets and weapons. Raan went to the door and switched on the hall video screen to see outside.

  “Aircar door is opening. Shit, they got guns.” The air door opened and six masked figures rushed out of it, heading down the short hall towards their door. They had the master key and one of them it swiped it across the door call pad. The door opened and they rushed in, drawn guns sweeping the empty room. They checked everywhere, pointing their guns in a dramatic way. The suite was empty.

  “There they are!” A shout went up and someone opened fire with a sonic rifle. Hal fired back and they ran along all the balconies, jumping over the little separating walls as Hal gave them covering fire. The balcony ran all around the top floor and they turned the corner. They scuttled along until they found a suite with an open door and slipped inside. Someone was in the Vanity, going by the sound of enthusiastic singing from that direction and didn’t see them as they ran quietly through the room and out into the main
hall.

  They turned away from the aircar and went in the other direction to the service lift. They didn’t bother to call it, but waited patiently while Raan hot-wired the door to open. The lift was clanking down, one floor below them and they all jumped onto its roof without thinking and watched the big, painted numbers on the lift shaft counting down.

  “Who the hell was that?” asked Erion. She looked at Raan. “Jealous husbands?”

  “Not me, Major.” Erion glared at Hal, who shrugged and looked a bit sheepish.

  “I should have known.”

  They looked at each other and nodded when the numbers got down to one and prepared to jump. As the lift roof passed the ground floor, they all stepped onto the upcoming ledge on the lift shaft wall and held on as best they could, while Raan tried to get the doors open from the wrong side. They opened for a couple of feet and stopped. The hotel’s internal alarm was wailing away in the distance as Erion cautiously peered through the gap and motioned to the others. They squeezed through and found themselves in the upper basement, one floor underground. It was dark and dingy down there, with rubbish recycle units along one wall, and custom Vanity units for the bedding and curtains on the other.

  “We have to get out of here,” muttered Erion. “Security will call the Galactic Police. Let’s see where we are.” There were some small windows high up on the walls and Hal and Raan gave Erion a boost up so she could see outside.

  “It’s ground level out there,” she said, quietly, standing on their raised hands to peer through the window. “It looks like the staff car park and it’s pretty quiet.” She used the butt of her gun to break the window catch, hitched up a leg and rolled out of the window. She stood up and brushed herself down, scanning the carpark for people or cameras and found nothing. Hal rolled out of the window next and took off his gun belt. He handed his blaster to Erion and pushed the end of the sturdy, leather belt through the window. It went taut as Raan obviously caught it to pull himself up, then his elbow and finally one leg appeared and he scrambled out onto the concrete. They could still hear the alarms of the hotel and scuttled to comparative shelter between two large, canvas backed trucks to wait while Hal slung the heavy belt back around his waist and tied the holster down.

  “Where to now?” asked Raan. They would have to hide until some sort of security dealt with the attackers. While they were quite capable of dealing with it themselves, they did not want to bring any attention their way.

  “We’ll hide out somewhere until Starfire comes back,” said Erion. “If Security hasn’t dealt with them by then, we’ll let Hal loose.” Hal gave her a sarcastic smile then suddenly lifted his hand for silence. His grey eyes searched the carpark, along with Erion and Raan. They had learned to trust his instincts and scoured the cars and hotel windows for hidden enemies. There was the sudden smack of a sonic pistol hit nearby and Hal spun around towards the sound, his gun looking for a target.

  “I ain’t going to make the same mistake twice, Terrellian,” sneered a high pitched, angry voice from far away. “I ain’t facing you in a fair fight. I’m gonna shoot you in the back.”

  “Into the truck,” snapped Hal. They scrambled into the back of it and Hal peered over the edge. There was the whine of a close passing sonic bolt and Hal ducked down. “This is my fault,” he muttered.

  “It would be easier to list the people who aren’t your enemies,” sighed Erion, leaning behind the other low panel to listen for approaching footsteps.

  “I know that voice,” said Hal, quietly. “I knew I should have killed them.”

  “Who is it?” asked Erion, worriedly. She knew they were safe for the moment, but the Galactic Police would soon get to hear about the shots and would find them. Questions would definitely be asked and she didn’t want to be around when that happened.

  “Me and Vermillion ran into a little bit of trouble earlier,” he briefly explained what happened that afternoon.

  “And you let them live?” said Erion, astonished.

  “I didn’t want to upset her,” he gritted, crawling to the back of the truck to peer out as another bolt zinged way over his head to rip the canvas. “It was a mistake!”

  “It’s a good job they’re such lousy shots,” said Erion.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” breathed Raan, quietly. He slid down against the panel behind the driver’s seat, his hand pressed to his right side. He left a smear of blood on the shiny, pale blue metal panel and ended up sitting on the bed of the truck with his back pressed against it and his legs straight out.

  “Oh no,” Erion crawled over to him and gently took his hand away. He gasped in pain and arched his back as the pressure shifted off the wound. Erion shrugged out of her jacket and made a pad to press against the open wound. She loosened his gunbelt and shoved the pad underneath it. There was a lot of blood.

  “We can’t stay here,” said Hal. He looked down at Raan. “Can you move?” Raan tried to get up, moaned in pain and then lay back, shaking his head.

  “You’re going to have to leave me.” Hal crouched down by his side, eased Raan’s hand aside and slipped free his blaster.

  “That ain’t gonna happen, Captain,” he said, handing him the blood drenched weapon. “There’s two on the right, he gestured with his gun, two over here by the entrance and two by the wall on the left there.” He called Erion to him and she scuttled over. “Help me get him up.” Together, they moved him as carefully as they could, to the rear end of the truck, near the canvas flaps. He gritted his teeth, held onto the panel of the van with his left hand and clutched his gun in his right hand, determinedly.

  “When I say, just stick your hand over the edge and fire through the canvas to the left,” said Hal. “You don’t have to hit anything, just pin ‘em down.”

  “What about me?” asked Erion, grimly.

  “Fire one out the back, then two to the right. Keep doing that till you only got three shots left. Don’t run out.” He caught Raan’s eye. “Can you stay awake and keep firing till the shots stop coming from the left.”

  “No problem,” gritted Raan and Hal nodded, grimly.

  ”I got this.”

  Erion crawled to the rear corner of the truck, across from Raan and looked back at him. “Ready?” asked Hal. She nodded. “You ready, Captain?” Raan, still holding on to the two foot high panel, nodded with grim determination. “Go!” grunted Hal.

  The firing started and he slid out of the back of the truck and rolled underneath it. He knew without checking how much charge his gun had left and he dialled it back for close work. He would have to get nearer to his targets to kill them, but it would give him more shots. He saw two pairs of legs to the left, a couple of vehicles away and cut loose, shooting all four legs below the knee. There was a lot of screaming and two bodies lay down to roll in agony on the floor. Hal took a quick peek and recognised Carilla as one of them and the other, who had a large bandage around half of his face, must have been the one with the knife at Vermillion’s back.

  The firing from Raan’s side of the truck stopped and Hal didn’t know whether Raan had realised what was happening or he was unconscious already. Hal could see another pair of feet approaching but they were too far away to guarantee a hit. He would need a body shot or he would need to be closer. He already knew these idiots couldn’t shoot straight. The man who shot Raan had been aiming at Hal and he rightly guessed that whoever it was now lay dying on the concrete to his left. Hal changed the setting on his gun to give him longer range, rolled out from the under truck, stood up and fired once before ducking down again. There was a brief scream and Hal grinned, wickedly. Three down, three to go.

  He weaved in and out of the vehicles and came to another laundry truck. Hal undid the canvas flaps at the back and climbed quietly inside. This one was different to the truck that held Erion and Raan. It had a tailgate. He rolled onto his stomach, wriggled over to the back on his elbows and fiddled with the bolts that held it to the low sides of the truck.

  “I seen you
, Terrellian,” sneered a voice and raised it to shout, “He’s over here, in the big green truck,” Hal gauged he would be about twenty feet away but the footsteps were scuttling nearer. No problem. He rolled onto his back and inched towards the tailgate until he lay on his back with his knees bent and his feet against it. He had worked the bolts loose and there was nothing much holding it upright. Keep talking, thought Hal. He needed to know exactly where everyone was. Time was getting on and he knew he had to get Raan some medical attention. “Come to think of it,” the sneering voice droned on, gleefully, “we ain’t got to do anything but wait. I called the Galactic Police. They’ll be here any second. Somebody as quick as you with a gun has got to have a police record.” There was the sound of feet nearing the truck and Hal kicked out. The tailgate shot over the next car and hit someone in the face with a soggy smack. There was a dull clang when the tailgate hit the ground and a crumpled sort of thump which sounded like a body landing on top of it.

  It went very quiet. Doam looked at the stump of his right hand and another surge of bitter hatred swelled over him. Damn all Terrellians, he thought to himself. He had held back when the others wanted to exact their revenge, partly because his arm hurt but mainly because the bastard was too good. But now all he wanted to do was stand over that Terry and pump charge after charge into him. He could hear one of his associates quietly moaning somewhere nearby but he didn’t go to find out who it was. He kept moving towards the green truck, the pistol in his left hand buzzing quietly. He had paid a good part of his stash to get an auto aimer fitted to it that morning and he had programmed it with as much as could remember about the cold eyed gunman and his bloody big gun. He crawled towards the green truck, heart pounding and steeled himself. He jumped up and aimed. The truck was empty. “Damn it!” he muttered to himself. There was another burst of sonic fire far in front of him and he cautiously made his way towards it. His wrist link buzzed and he cursed, held the gun against his right side with his elbow and raised his left wrist.