by J. M. Hagan
“Your world sounds like it would be considered a Class-C world to me– “
“Class-C?”
“Worlds that have advanced somewhat, but still have a long way to go. If that’s the case, the Federation would make a treaty with your people.”
Anderson was considering it momentarily. For all he knew, revealing the location of Earth could actually benefit his people. “These treaties – what are they like?”
“Well, depends on what natural resources your world has. Any number of corporations could come along for business. Sometimes, they suck worlds dry, and then abandon the colonies. They always provide them with ships, though, so that they can travel the stars and work elsewhere.”
Anderson made a fist and dropped his cards. “In that case, I won’t be telling anyone where I’m from,” he assured him. “I don’t wanna introduce anything like that to my world.”
Jeriko grunted. “Smart choice. There are still people from my world who wish we could go back to the old days, when we thought we were alone in the Universe. My people were hunters.”
“So…your species was discovered very early? Before you had even begun settling cities even?”
“Yes. They researched us for a long time before making first contact. My ancestors thought the ships in the skies were Gods. After generations of research, they realised that we would make excellent soldiers, so they came, and my world was changed forever.”
Jeriko’s PDP vibrated. He checked the message. “Hmph. One of the tier-2 deputies asking if I got any more info out of you about all of this Dok’ra business.”
Anderson frowned. “That the only reason you asked me to a game?”
“Of course,” said Jeriko. Then he tossed his PDP over onto his bed at the other side of the room. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell anyone else what I find out, though. Especially not that guy.”
Jeriko is a straight-shooter. I’ve gotta admire that. Anderson flipped over his next pair. His threes were easily beaten by a pair of sixes. Damn. One more and he wins.
“Well, I told you what I know,” said Anderson, with a convincing curve in his brow. “You can speculate on the rest. But I’m not talking about this any further.” He took up his cigar and lit it again. Somehow, he felt stronger with it in his hand.
“Fair enough,” said Jeriko, with a shrug, throwing down fifteens. An unbeatable pair. Damn. Jeriko reached over and retrieved his winnings.
“Well, you’ve won all the money I’m willing to gamble,” he said, getting up. “I think I’ll go get some lunch.”
Jeriko grunted amusement. “Good game. I’ll see you for some more training tomorrow. You’ve got a lot to learn in the next two days.”
Anderson frowned at him for his condescending remark before leaving.
*
Location: Starman HQ, Cafeteria
Siena sat alone, picking at her food. When she looked up, she saw a tall cadet with a military style haircut approach her table. “You are tier-1?” he asked.
Siena nodded, rotating the fork between her fingers as she chewed. He presumed to sit down. “Name is Lam. Nice to meet ya?”
“Siena.”
“Siena – I was talking to your friend earlier. Guy named Jack.”
Siena nodded, giving a brief smile. “Yeah. We’re part of the same crew.”
“You’re Plysarian, ain’t ya?” She nodded. “Thought so. It’s the eyes. Never met a Plysarian before. Say…me and a few others are gonna go for a drink later.” Lam motioned over his shoulder to the bunch of male and female cadets. “How about you come along? I’ll buy you a drink, and you can tell me all about your world.”
She grinned looking down at her food. “I…I don’t drink.”
“You don’t drink? What? Ever?” he asked, shocked somewhat.
Siena shook her head. “No. Never.”
Lam looked like he was torn between believing her or thinking it was a cover story for rejection. At any rate, he smiled as he got up. “Okay. Well, it was nice to meet ya, Siena.”
Siena looked up fully. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, sincere. Then she went back to eating her food.
*
Anderson’s PDP vibrated. He had a message from Cane and went to his quarters to watch it. The video recording recipient list in the corner of the screen indicated that it had been sent to the entire crew. He pressed play.
Cane appeared on the screen. He was sitting at his pilot’s den on Europa’s command bridge. “My fellow crewmates. I regret to inform you that we are in very serious trouble,” he said, and Anderson tightened up.
“I am leaving Maji-Onda station with Europa before it is too late. I can’t explain it right now, but I know the Dok’ra are set to arrive any second now. My mind has…evolved in recent times. Like my grandfather, I have abilities. I’m not sure of their extent yet. But I can smell danger now before it arrives. You won’t need to take my word for it, they are gonna come gunning for this station any minute. Europa and I are gonna hide. But, don’t worry, we’re not gonna run from them. I need to use you all as bait.”
“Bait?” Anderson muttered at the screen, eyes widening, as his free hand became a tense fist.
“If you are on the station they’ll think Europa is still somewhere in that hangar bay. Believe me, they don’t want us. They want her. With the time-drive in their possession, they could go back in time, win the war, and plunge the galaxies into chaos. It seems we’re in the business of saving the world nowadays. So that’s exactly what we’re gonna do. You need to hold them off. Do you hear me? Make sure that station doesn’t fall from within, and I’ll make sure that dreadnought is history the second my window of opportunity arrives. Cane out.”
The screen went dark. Anderson was running over it all in his mind. He quickly decided to video call Jack. He answered immediately.
“You saw it?” Jack blared, the instant they connected.
“Yeah.”
“What the hell does he mean, window of opportunity?”
“I don’t have a clue, Jack,” he admitted, taking a handful of hair at the back of his head. “You believe him?”
“Yeah. Of course. Not that I understand it— “
“Same. But he said on his world people were genetically enhanced.”
“—You think he’s like Professor X?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Look, where are you right now?”
“The markets. You?”
“HQ. Are you with, Claudia?”
“No. I’m with, Malora. Add, Claudia, into the call.”
“How?”
“Just go to contacts and press call on her name. Sheesh. You’re supposed to be the tech-whizz. Piss-stain.”
Nice pun. But this is not the time for fun. Hmph. I should have said that – it rhymed. Anderson followed his instructions. The screen split in two. Claudia’s face appeared on the right when she answered.
“Guys, what the fu— “
“Where are you?” Jack interjected, knowing she had seen it from her reaction.
“Markets. B-1,” she replied.
“Right. Okay. We’ll meet up. Anderson, get Siena.”
Anderson swept to his contacts and called Siena. She entered into the conversation and the screen was split three ways. “You all saw it?” asked Siena.
“Yeah,” said Jack. “Where are you?”
“HQ. Cafeteria.”
“Meet Anderson. Me and Malora will rendezvous with Claudia. Then we’ll all meet up.”
That was when it dawned on him, what they should do next. “Jack, if you’re in the markets, that’s right next to the security wing. You should bring this to Fischer. Immediately.”
“You think he’ll believe us?”
“I don’t know. But people from Adanis are known to have abilities. Just tell Fischer the truth. If they can start organising their defences before the Dok’ra even arrive, it could save a lot of lives!”
Jack’s part of the screen started shaking as he moved at once. “I ne
ver even thought of that! Jack out!” He cut off and the screen shifted, stretching out Claudia and Siena’s portraits.
“I guess I’ll meet Jack at the security wing,” said Claudia, peeved that he hadn’t clarified it with her before hanging up.
“Yes. We’ll meet you there,” said Anderson.
“Mark…what about your pal Jeriko?” inquired Claudia. “Tell him we need his help defending the station.”
Anderson smiled. “You just guessed the next stage of my plan. Siena, meet us at the building entrance. We’ll take a hover car to the security wing and…”
A red light flashed above his head. A screeching alarm sounded. It was happening with Siena, too.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Claudia.
Anderson swallowed. “I think we’re under attack,” he pitched above the cacophony of screeching alarms.
Starmen
Battle for Maji-Onda
Part 3
War
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; in feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
--Aristotle
20
A tall and thin woman came through the door to the HQ reception desk, the curves of her chin relaying her gender for the most part, two small outlines of her chest sealed the answer. The receptionist, who had been on a call for some minutes dealing with a customer inquiry, looked up and had a hard time finding her eyes from beneath a shadowy hood.
She approached at a casual pace. “Jack Murphy,” she rasped, her eyes still veiled with shadow.
“One moment please,” the receptionist urged, placing the handset to her shoulder.
Then she returned her attention to the call. The customer hadn’t stopped talking in her ear, but examining the woman had zapped her concentration for a moment.
The chalk-white skin of her wrinkled hand caught the receptionist’s eye, as she pulled back her hood revealing pale skin and eyes as black as dark matter.
“Jack Murphy. Mark Anderson. Claudia Stewart.”
The receptionist, with a deep frown, asked the customer to give her a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I am on a call. I will be with you in a moment. If you’ll just wait— “
“Are they here, or not?” the woman insisted, on the verge of anger. The skin around her eye sockets became creased with deep wrinkles.
The receptionist, in a mood spoiled by the day she had been having already, narrowed her eyes and stared for a moment at the ominous stranger standing before her.
“I wouldn’t want to have to call security,” she said, in a threatening tone. She had dealt with pushy people before. “Let me finish my call, and I’ll be with you in a mo— “
The woman reached into her jacket and whipped out a pistol-sized Gatling repeater. She pointed it directly in her face. Then squeezed the trigger. The short barrels whirred as they spooled. The receptionist fell with a face full of bullets.
Panicked screams sounded from the office at her back.
She whirled around to open fire on the rest of the room. Her high power, rapid-fire weapon tore through bodies and office furniture in a brutal, unrelenting hail, until a half dozen people were down.
The others, sounding piercing screams, rushed for the door at the back.
She accessed the receptionist’s computer that was still logged with her password into the system. Placing a data chip into the computer, it immediately uploaded bad code into the system that breached the firewalls and targeted door locks and automated security defences. The whole system came crashing down in seconds.
Her fingers rapidly interfaced with the touchscreen – locking the entrance’s security doors, trapping everyone inside. Then she brought up the building schematics and memorised key areas within a flash.
She advanced, reloading as she went. Crunching glass shards beneath her feet as she passed wounded people on their backs crying in pain. One lurched for the exit, holding the gunshot in his chest. Unfeeling, she waved her hand sideways and he was telekinetically hurled from her path.
She got into the elevator and sailed to the fifth floor. The cafeteria was the first place she would look. A systematic sweep of every area where Cadets would likely be was the best approach for her hunt. Nobody was leaving this building any time soon.
An administrator hurried to pick up his phone and call in the emergency. The elevator door opened and he dropped the handset, staggering back in horror as he beheld black eyes.
The woman rose her weapon. He threw up his hands, his terror as physical as it was visceral. Then she put him down like a dog.
She turned her aim on the other office workers who were fleeing out the side door and pumped them full of rounds, trailing her aim along the wall to punch shots through to the others she had missed.
She reloaded her smoking gun.
A Starman Deputy came into the room and blitzed her with three pulse pistol rounds to the chest. The pale woman took them. Stumbled back a step. Then shredded him in a rapid response of ammunition.
The wounds in her chest began to heal immediately.
*
Siena could hear the distant shots, the screams. The lights around her were flashing red. A chill-inducing alarm sounded without end.
She looked around her and saw that people were rushing into the cafeteria from the hall. “She’s killing everyone!” a terrified guild employee cried.
“What the fuck is going on?!” cried Anderson, and she brought her gaze back to her PDP.
“I don’t know!”
“Siena, I’m heading to the armoury to get my shotgun! Meet me there!”
Another man came spilling into the cafeteria, holding his bleeding shoulder. He was armed with a pistol and slid down the wall when he was inside. Cadet Lam rushed to help apply pressure to the wound. He dropped his sidearm on the ground, and Siena guessed that he was a deputy.
“She’s unstoppable!” the wounded deputy cried, with a sob thickened voice. “I shot her – right in the face! Right in the face! It was like nothing! I swear!”
“Siena!” Anderson yelled.
She snapped her eyes back to him. “Mark – get my gear and hurry! I can’t leave these people!”
She cut off the call as he began objecting. Then Siena hurried to grab a bunch of napkins from the deli counter to give Lam. He pressed them against the bleeding wound. There was so much blood, if they didn’t stop it he would bleed out in a matter of minutes.
Siena picked up his sidearm and checked the ammo. It was almost full.
“Is anyone else packing?” asked Lam, looking around in distress.
Siena knew they weren’t when she looked to the range of disconcerted, paling faces around them. Shots sounded from just outside the cafeteria.
“Get that door locked immediately!” she yelled, to a young Cadet standing next to it. It was a reinforced security door.
He hurried to pull away the panel next to the door and then put his hand on the lever for the manual lock. When he was halfway through pulling it down they saw something that caused gasps to echo all round.
The young Cadet was lifted off his feet by an invisible force. Gargling sounds erupted from his throat. He desperately attempted to suck in a breath. Crunching and twisting sounded. Then he was hewn, his neck wrangled right the way around before he crashed through a nearby table.
Siena put her arm under the wounded deputy. “Help me with him!” she begged Lam.
He got the other side and they pulled him to his feet. “Everyone out of here!” screamed Lam.
People screamed as they ran for the exit, and then they were piled up and climbing over each other to get out the door. A whir sounded at the other door. Siena snapped her head that way and saw the Gatling repeater spool. Fire erupted from its multitude of rotating short barrels.
Bullets tore through the people at the door. They ripped apart the deputy she was holding. One took her in the
shoulder and Siena fell, dropping her gun. Erratic death wails. Desperate cries for help.
Lam took up the deputy’s sidearm and shot the woman in her chest. She closed her free hand into a fist, gruelling at him. The terrifying sounds of a dozen breaking bones hampered her ears – Siena watched his body become a limp, broken thing. He fell like a ragdoll.
*
Anderson could hear the racket from the corridor when he and Jeriko went to get armed. He came into the armoury and found a dozen cadets suiting up for war. A deputy was screaming at them to move it!
He went to their lockers and retrieved his P8 shotgun and Siena’s X-series sub-repeater. Then he hurried to put on a protective vest and stuffed its pockets with flashbangs.
“The whole place is under attack!” someone cried. “There’s a war going on down there!”
“Do we know who’s attacking us?” another asked.
“Not yet. We need to take whoever it is down immediately, though! They’re gunning down unarmed civilians!”
Jeriko was waiting for him by the door by the time he was ready with an assault rifle in hand. He gave a nod. Then they raced to the elevator.
They took it down to the fifth floor. As they travelled, Anderson made sure the safety was off his side-arm. Then spin-cocked his lever action shotgun. He was fighting his nerves. Sick with worry for Siena. Pleading to God in his head to let everything be okay.
The doors opened. They went at pace, passing a wounded man in the hall being helped along by a woman covered with his blood. “She’s killing everyone! She’s unstoppable!” she cried, in an irrational tone.
Screams in the distance got louder as they sprinted toward them. The gut-wrenching dread increased with each step. Then shots sounded. He sprinted even faster toward them.
They turned a corner and saw Siena at the opposite end of the corridor. She was lurching toward them, an arm across her body to hold her bleeding shoulder.
“Mark! She’s coming!” she cried breathlessly.
Three people came running for their lives at her back. Bullets tore through them and sparked as they impacted the walls. Blood sprayed – they gave a chorus of dying screams.
