My footsteps echoed on the metal of the quiet corridor. The scene was something between candlelight and normal indoor lighting, except its hue was harsh and white. There were the occasional dark zones where emergency lighting strips had failed. I passed through one on reaching the left turn then emerged back into the light. Up ahead—around thirty feet away down the new passageway—stood a man, his back to me, completely still. It was hard to see him in the dark patch, but he was of medium height and build and his hair looked blondish—a possible match for Reichs. He appeared a little taller and slimmer than I imagined Reichs to be, but it had to be him. After all, he was the only other survivor of whom Tiro knew. This was great news. It reminded me how much I missed company.
Smiling, I call out to him.
“Hey man, this is Dan Luker! ... Is that you Reichs? Arnold Reichs?”
Like there’d be another Reichs, I thought, chuckling.
He turned around but said nothing just staring in my direction. He didn’t reply.
Maybe he’s been alone too long and psychosis has set in ... Can do all sorts of things to the human mind, I thought.
His stasis pod suggested it as a possibility given that he’d left it some time ago.
“Hey buddy, can you hear me okay? I just came out of sta—”
Then I saw what he was holding. A handgun, dark and difficult to spot in the murk.
I grabbed for my own as he calmly raised his gun and fired, sending me rolling to the deck just in time. The two rounds were so close I felt the shock wave graze my jaw.
This bastard’s shooting to kill, I thought as I crouched, taking aim.
I squeezed off four rounds before he could snap-return fire whilst running surprisingly fast around the corner behind him. I sprung up, covering his position. He now had cover and I didn’t, so I retreated backwards from where I’d came. Twice he poked his head around the corner and twice I fired back, trying to suppress him but happy to take him out.
If you fire on a cop, expect to be taken down, no question, I thought. Even a former-cop.
I felt my heart thumping when I made it around the corner. It’d been a number of years since I’d seen action. A number of years before stasis, that was. I had to think fast. The layout was largely unfamiliar to me, and for all I knew he could have been flanking around behind me. So I continued the retreat to the one place I knew I couldn't be surprised: the airlock.
I waited to the side of the suiting-up room door, ready for Reichs to walk through it. My plan was to grab and disarm him. He stood a good nine inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter than me. Unless he was some kind of world-class martial arts guy, I was confident he’d be no match. Once I had him, I would make him talk. It wasn’t how I wanted it to be, but he’d tried to kill me for God’s sake. He damned well nearly succeeded. And if I needed to shoot him, I would.
I controlled my breathing and waited silently. I could wait for a very long time—patience being an important virtue for a cop. Patience being an important virtue, period. I thought about this guy, Reichs. It was either a case of mistaken identity or he’d lost his mind. They were the only explanations that made any sense. If he wasn’t mad then he had some serious beef with whoever he thought I was.
I listened and I waited. Then I waited some more but detected no sign of him. Then I realized how stupid I’d been. I’d forgotten all about the intercom badge. If could I work out his location with it then he sure as hell could work out mine.
“Damn it!” I whispered angrily.
Well, assuming he knows where I am, it’s only fair I take a look-see for him, I thought. To keep tabs on me he’d need his badge active.
“Intercom, what is AD-005’s current location?”
“AD-005 is on Level 10, sector C4.”
Same sector as me.
“And tell me AD-005’s distance and bearing from me?”
“A straight-line distance of thirty-three-feet with a bearing of three-four-nine degrees referenced to Juno bow north.”
That meant he was somewhere along the last corridor I’d ran along. My guess waiting at the corner for me to emerge from the suiting-up room. I couldn’t wait here forever, but then again, neither could he. I’d also have the element of surprise, but it was definitely a risk. If I were in his shoes, I’d be zeroed in on the door ready to shoot first.
Then an idea struck me. Removing the badge from my fleece, I placed it in an open locker and started donning my spacesuit. There was more than one way into this module. I just needed to go and find another airlock.
With a last recheck of my air supply, I opened the hatch to space and the harsh brilliance of Aura. Following a hunch, I sped around the lower curve of the hull toward the antipode of my origin—Level 10 on the western side of Module 1—in nautical terms, the port bow. My second spacewalk had come earlier than I’d ever imagined, but I felt a growing sense of confidence guiding myself under thruster power. It would take under two minutes from airlock to airlock. The quicker the better. The sooner I got to Reichs the less chance he’d discover my ruse. After crossing the lowest point of the hull, I flew a wider arc than the module itself, giving me some elevation above the port side. That made spotting the airlock hatch far easier. The first was located at around Level 18. I’d use it if I had to. Then I saw what I’d come for—the airlock on the other side of Level 10.
On arrival at my insertion point, I followed the same drill as before. Identical chamber, spare spacesuits, helmets, and bottles. Also a dark blue crew flight suit with the name Dutta on the nametag. A pair of standard issue black boots stood below the hanging flight suit. Maybe Dutta, whoever he or she was, had gone for a spacewalk and hadn’t come back. I desuited and readied my weapon, safety off, one in the chamber. With any luck, that’s where it would stay if I did this right.
I eased open the door and scanned left then right, but saw and heard nothing. The corridor looked a mirror image of the other side. I turned left and then hung a right fifty or so feet later heading toward a set of double sliding doors marked, Navigation. Miraculously, the doors swished open as though the ship were pristine and new. The musty air and thick layer of dust over the dead equipment inside dispelled the fantasy. In the center of the large room sat a square table with a central column holding it up. Around it, eight stools were laid out, two per side. I examined the corporate logo on the table edge—apparently the company was called NuvoTech and it was a Holo-Space Navigator. It reminded me of the holographic game machines popular back in the day. I guessed that was what it was—a holographic display table. Workstations, terminals, and what looked like equipment closets lined the walls. A door to the left carried the label, Bridge. The door on the right read, Communications and underneath it said, Sensors. Straight ahead, past the holographic table, the double doors were simply marked Level 10 Starboard. And that was the way I went. The ship narrowed slightly toward the nose and it wouldn’t be far until I reached Reichs’s position. On leaving the navigation suite, I drew my gun and advanced quietly along the corridor toward a set of windowless firebreak doors. For whatever reason—I could think of quite a few—they had closed, their magnetic anchors no longer holding them against the walls. Beyond them, if I was correct, would be Reichs with his back to me, eyes trained on the door, waiting to shoot me. This was when I wished I had an optics probe like the SWAT guys used.
Instead, I eased the left door open ever so slowly, wary that any sound could alert him. Holding my gun in a double-handed grip, I applied more weight with my shoulder until my aim made line of sight down the thirty-foot long corridor. And there he still stood—Reichs with his gun pointed to the airlock I’d left five minutes before. If he turned now, it’d be me that fired first, no question. But that’s not what I wanted, so I slipped past the heavy door, holding its handle to cushion its return with my eyes and gun still firmly on Reichs. He didn’t move. I’d managed silence so far. I started ghost walking slowly toward him, soundlessly rolling down my bare feet with each step. The closer I got
the more accurate I could be and I shifted aim from his center of mass to his legs. He was no good to me dead, although he didn’t seem to share the same opinion of me. Surveying the corridor, there were only two notable features. On the left was a single door with a plaque I couldn’t see clearly. Opposite was a narrower door of the sort I’d seen previously labeled, Equipment—an equipment closet. Now just fifteen feet from Reichs, his blond hair came into view. It was surprisingly well cut and, although it was hard to tell, I saw no signs of a beard. I had expected one—crazy guy, alone for months or even years... He wore a long-sleeved top, fitted, light blue. His trousers were navy blue, standard crew issue. He’d definitely gotten himself in shape since his 3D image scan. But the height was about right. This was Reichs all right, former-rich-boy-turned-crazed-shooter. At six feet behind him, if I didn’t act soon he’d hear me breathing.
So I moved fast, grabbing his gun with my right while simultaneously wrapping my left around his neck in a chokehold. I applied pressure. He’d be unconscious for a few seconds if done right. But as he started to struggle, something wasn’t right. Even with my considerable size advantage, I could not get him to release his gun. I pressed harder on his neck, now desperate to cut off the blood flow, but he continued bucking and twisting as if it was having no effect. My strength was waning. Reichs was incredibly strong and I was no closer to getting his gun or knocking him out. It was decision time—fight or flight. I released the chokehold and while maintaining the grip on his gun, landed a devastating thrust kick to the side of his right knee. He crumpled to the floor and I took the chance to retreat halfway to the door and equipment closet, keeping him in my sights. Quicker than my brain could register, he turned and fired off a three round salvo. I felt a searing pain in my upper left arm as one of the rounds sliced through my flesh.
“Arggghhh! You mother—”
And I returned fire—a series of double-taps, again and again. More than one struck home and Reichs rolled expertly around the corner as I reached the door marked, Ready Room. I crashed backward through the door and kicked it shut. My heart was pumping as I felt my wounded arm, my sliced fleece and stasis suit soaked with blood, which continued to form round spots on the dirty metal floor. I found the corner of the room and sat down there with my gun covering the door. The room contained maybe two dozen comfortable-looking chairs lined up movie theater style but with the aisles down the outside. All faced the display wall and narrow holotable at the front. The skeleton of a long-dead crewmember sat in the front row, his head slumped to the side. I eyed the other walls as I heard the footfalls of Reichs growing nearer outside and saw an extremely unwelcome sight. The door I’d entered through was the only way in or out. I was trapped, bleeding, and about to face an inexplicably strong foe. It was him or me, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
9
Wednesday, 17 May 2062, Boise Police Department Indoor Shooting Range
Luker slid in a new clip into his service pistol and chambered a round. He’d bulls-eyed all fifteen rounds at twenty-five yards, so had already sent the fresh target back to forty for a little more challenge. He’d won the Northwestern Interdepartmental Shooting Contest for the last two years and wanted to make this year a hat-trick. His partner had told him to quit and join the Olympic team in time for the 2064 London Olympics. As much as he loved shooting, he couldn’t imagine spending all day, every day practicing it. Or any other one thing for that matter.
“Variety’s the spice of life,” he’d replied in justification.
Besides, he loved policing, being one of the good guys and making a positive impact on the world. Although disparagement caught up with everyone sometimes, he worked hard not to become the stereotype of the cynical cop. Sure, he saw some of the worst humanity had to offer, but keeping it in perspective was the trick to staying positive. Most parts of most people were good and even the worst had redeeming qualities. Perhaps not in abundance, but there nevertheless.
Luker always remembered the phrase his wise old grandpa had told him: “The line between good and evil doesn’t run between us, it runs through us.”
Luker readied his stance and raised his weapon, aiming with his dominant right eye. He regulated his breathing then applied pressure evenly and firmly, squeezing off the first round, then the second in quick succession. At this distance, he’d continued trying for the head bullseyes on the human silhouette target, leaving the torso bullseyes for an even greater range. Both shots hit right of center—the first a nine, the second a mere eight.
He fired two more headshots, again going wide. This was unlike him and he put it down to the poor night’s sleep and a long adrenaline-filled day on the streets. He had a lot on his mind. It was a time of potential change and soon came decision time. Stay in the area he’d grown up in or join his Mom and sister, Nikki, in LA. He knew there was demand for cops in LA, so continuing his work—his life’s work—wouldn’t be an obstacle. Truth be told, he couldn’t live without the days on the streets. Sure, there was danger, but that was all part of the attraction for Luker. Not reckless, unmitigated danger, but risks taken for a purpose, almost a higher purpose. That was something Luker saw all around him in the modern world—lack of purpose. He couldn’t live like that and didn’t understand how others could either. Sure, indulgence and leisure were fine, but in Luker’s opinion, the difference between those who made something of themselves and those who did not was all about choices. Always doing what you wanted to do and not what you needed to do was a sure way to screw up your life. Eventually, anyhow. But he was no puritan and didn’t preach.
“Everything in moderation,” as his mom always said.
Maybe not everything in moderation, but most things, anyway.
He took two more shots, but felt distracted and failed to reach his usual precision.
He flicked on the safety, lay down his weapon and pulled the lever bringing the target back to his booth. He retrieved the target and picked it up along with the others in his booth. The range had emptied over the last thirty minutes or so. It was past nine and most cops had families or bars to go to. There were no more shooters; only one other person remained—a tallish, early-forties guy also in uniform. Luker recognized the guy as a SWAT team sergeant. He was tanned, with salt-and-pepper hair and a good four inches shorter than Luker. The sergeant had been standing there, evidently having watched him shoot.
Luker removed his ear defenders and nodded to the sergeant.
“Nice shooting, Luker,” he said, offering his hand. “Sergeant Josh McKay.”
“Thanks.”
“Say, you ever thought about trying out for our unit? We could use someone like you.”
“Yeah … heard about Dalziel quitting.”
“So you interested?”
“Let me think about it.”
“Okay, Luker. But don’t think too long. There’re a lotta guys who wanna join the team.”
“Sure. I’ll get back to you before the weekend. Thanks for the consideration, sergeant.”
“Okay, need to get going … You think about it …”
Luker nodded with a brief smile. McKay returned the gesture and left.
Then, before he could mull it over, Luker’s phone rang. He tapped the screen and saw his sister, Nikki, on videocall from her apartment in LA.
“Hey, what ya doing big brother?”
She smiled broadly, her face alive with positivity. Luker felt tired but was pleased she’d called. He was nearing the tipping point of his decision and a conversation with Nikki could help him decide.
“Hey, Nikki. Just finishing up at the range.”
“What? Didn’t have enough bad guys to shoot today?”
“Ah, you know. Gotta keep on top of my game. How about you? First week go well?”
Her eyes came alive, her enthusiasm climbing yet another notch.
“Wow, it was awesome like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve got so many talented people around me. But they’re really supportive, you know … new gi
rl in town and all.”
“So, remind me of the part you’re playing. Some kind of TV show isn’t it?”
Nikki shook her head and made a face of faux-disgust, ever the actress.
“Danny, Danny … don’t you listen to anything I say, huh? It’s a new show, The Break, about these female inmates escaping from prison. Hey, you may not have heard of it now, but when it shows in a few months’ time, you’ll see me on a screen near you. I play Alice, one of the cons … Not exactly a starring role, but a few lines here and there and they might elevate the role next season … You know, if the show takes off and all.”
“That’s great, Nikki. I’m happy for you. You’ve done well. I bet Mom’s proud... Say, how’s she finding it there? Is she there?”
“No, she’s gone out. She’s at Latin dancing lessons. I hooked her up with one of the crew’s moms. They hit it off great! She loves it here. The weather, the activities for her … Think she misses her garden though—apartment living’s not for her. But once I get some money together I’m gonna buy a place. A place for us all, Danny. So have you decided? You know we’d love nothing more and it’d mean the world to Mom…”
Saturday, 12 August 2062, Nikki Luker’s Apartment, Los Angeles
His first few weeks in LA had gone by like a blur. New place, new job, new people… It was the first time Luker had ever lived anywhere but Idaho save for a year in London when he was seventeen. He’d never even been to LA to visit and now it was home. He’d completed the fourteen-hour drive south in one day, stopping at Twin Falls and Las Vegas amongst other places. He’d always heard so much about Vegas and stopped on the strip long enough to take a look around. It had been dusk and the hotels and casinos were starting to light up the desert night. The place was too manufactured for Luker’s liking and he’d never gambled a dollar in his entire life. He hadn’t needed to stop, his autonomous car navigating its way flawlessly as he read and napped and took in the views. He felt blessed to have been born in such a beautiful country with such diversity of landscapes, cultures and thought. He felt blessed, too, that he hadn’t needed to drive the grueling route manually. He couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like before autonomous vehicles. Tiring and boring, probably. Arriving in San Bernadino, it’d taken a full hour more to arrive at the apartment complex in Glendale. The size of LA’s sprawl truly amazed him.
Home Planet: Awakening (Part 1) Page 8
