Outriders

by Ian Blackport

“I…I, uh, need a drink.”

  Flustered, apprehensive and still flicking his head around like a guilty bird, Jeffrey climbed upright and stomped off toward a café with hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched.

  “That,” Kyla said, “is the mastermind you’re trusting to end the war? Nervous twit probably couldn’t remember his own name if we scared him enough.”

  “He does seem a tad unreliable,” noted Connor.

  Rinko shrugged while watching him disappear among a crowd into the shop. “He’s a typical computer and information fella. Anti-social, spooks easy, hates sunlight. You know the stereotypes well enough.”

  “You aren’t like that.”

  “Now you understand how lucky you got finding a hacker with a backbone.”

  Tessa growled and crossed her arms, eyeing the others with annoyance. “Enough of this nattering. Major, deposit the fool’s ill-gotten earnings and let’s be done with this errand.”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” responded Harun. “He’s lucky I’m willing to play along at all. A man whose entire career involved the gathering and analyzing of information should know when to quit.”

  “Bloke like him can’t let altruism get in the way of a generous payday,” said Reyes.

  “Fortunate he turned to us then, rather than an unscrupulous buyer on the black market who might’ve wanted to leverage the information for their own gain.”

  “Heads up,” Kyla whispered. “We’ve got trouble.”

  Taylor followed her gaze toward a storefront as Jeffrey exited carrying a drink. Two Confederacy marines bulled through clientele loitering outside and strode straight toward the whistleblower, who failed to notice their approach despite his overt suspicions. Taylor instinctively slapped a hand against his hip, only to discover his handgun was not within reach. Damn this station and its civilized rules of conduct.

  Jeffrey blundered to a clumsy stop and tensed when the marines reached him. Taylor could not hear the soldiers from where he sat, but Jeffrey failed miserably to remain calm and innocent. His body language screamed guilt once accosted by representatives of the Confederacy.

  Reyes rose from his seat, until Kyla grasped his wrist and tugged. “We need to do something,” he claimed.

  “No chance,” Kyla replied. “We can’t be seen with a government traitor. And you better believe a squirmy little shit like Jeffrey will identify us under interrogation in a heartbeat.”

  “She’s right,” said Harun. “We leave now before he has the opportunity.”

  “Still planning to pay the man?” questioned Connor.

  “Not much reason now. If the Confederacy has reason to suspect him of absconding with those files then they’ll have their whistleblower under close surveillance. A hefty deposit in any bank account that can be linked to him will incriminate the hapless fool. We’d be doing more harm. He’ll need to weather whatever happens after today on his own.”

  “A tragic story,” Tessa droned. “Time to bail.”

  Harun stood and stretched one arm as though not a care in the world bothered him. “Casually. Station security might not have located their fugitive until he crossed the concourse just now. Don’t give their meddlesome agents a reason to notice us.”

  Taylor stuffed the bizarre disc into his pocket and stood at a leisurely pace, until a startled scream brought him whirling around. Jeffrey panicked under questioning and sprinted from the confrontation, knocking confused patrons aside with his thrashing arms. One marine hefted an assault rifle with safety parameters disengaged, waited for innocent civilians to scatter and dropped Jeffrey with a three-round burst of gunfire to his spine.

  “Oh, shit,” Connor said.

  Screams erupted from horrified onlookers and one man spattered in Jeffrey’s blood stumbled backward clawing at his sodden clothes. The marines hurried toward his twitching corpse with rifles leveled while dread seized the crowd and they reacted with predictable chaos. Drinks and food were crushed underfoot, slower clientele collapsed over tables and chairs, hoarse shrieks and cries of pain echoed.

  “Move toward the closest exit from the Emporium,” instructed Harun. “Stay together. We can’t afford to be separated with security on edge.”

  Taylor let his crewmembers pass beneath an archway decorated with greenery and followed as their rearguard, though one who had no weapons or tools. They crossed pedestrian bridges spanning flowing waterways, descended one staircase and navigated through startled crowds who had heard cracking gunshots but were not close enough to be swept in the pandemonium.

  “Marine weapons can incapacitate targets,” Rinko affirmed. “Why the hell did they gun Jeffrey down?”

  “Time enough to ask questions later,” replied Kyla. “After we’ve made certain the same won’t happen to us.”

  “They didn’t even try to use their non-lethal options.”

  “One reason for us not to dawdle. The Authority isn’t in the habit of showing mercy to turncoats or spies, and there isn’t a person among us who doesn’t fit into those categories.”

  “Do you think they’re searching for the data he stole?” questioned Reyes.

  “No question,” Tessa responded. “And it won’t take them long to realize he doesn’t have what they want. The whole station will be locked—”

  A stentorian voice interrupted her words, flooding the Nexus Emporium with a recorded message. “Do not be alarmed. The Authority Starfleet Marines have ordered a mandatory lockdown for Milesian Station to conduct a routine security sweep. All current inhabitants are obliged to remain where they are and present identification and credentials when prompted. Starships are not permitted to depart until these temporary measures have been lifted. We ask for your patience in resolving this matter. All security personnel to ready stations.”

  Tessa grumbled her displeasure and stared at the ceiling. “Like I said.”

  Befuddled travelers and shoppers wore anxious expressions while listening to the announcement, uncertainty and worry causing most to forget about everything else and stand in one place like cooperative cattle. Taylor shoved between gawking fools and saw Harun veer off course toward an exit tucked in an alcove used by Milesian Station personnel. Two armed Confederacy marines flanked the door.

  Tessa split from the group and approached the entryway with her shoulders drooped and one trembling hand rubbing her forehead.

  One marine lifted an armored hand. “Stop right there.”

  “Please, we don’t know what’s going on,” Tessa responded. She affected a nervous, shrill tone and exhaled shallow breaths, advancing toward the troopers with an erratic gait. “We heard gunshots and I saw…I saw a man fall. There was blood…and, and…I just want to leave.”

  “I’m afraid you can’t leave, ma’am. Return the way you came and present your identification for inspection when prompted.”

  “If everyone cooperates, this delay won’t last for long,” asserted the other soldier, her voice amplified through the helmet’s sealed filter. “We need you to be calm and patient.”

  Tessa wandered another stride closer and fumbled to clutch her throat with one hand. “I can’t…all this stress…having trouble…I don’t feel…”

  One marine reached toward her, bless the man’s misplaced compassion, and Tessa jabbed her knuckles into his throat beneath the enclosed helmet. She lunged closer, hammered his sternum with a balled fist, pounded a heel into his knee and grasped one arm as he stumbled, choking for breath. Tessa swept the assault rifle toward the marine’s partner, forced his finger into the trigger guard and squeezed. Crackling electricity surged from the barrel on a twisting, whirling trajectory. White-hot currents arced over the woman’s body like forked lightning, burning through polymers on her armor and causing her limbs to quake with seizures until she crumpled in a heap.

  Tessa wrenched the rifle from the still conscious man’s grasp and clobbered its stock against his helmet, pummeling him into a wall. One final strike felled him with a muffled grunt.

  “Ho
w’d you know the marine’s rifle was switched to incapacitating ammo?” questioned Connor.

  Tessa flung the weapon aside. “I didn’t.”

  Taylor eyed the fallen guns with a twinge of sadness, wishing he could retrieve one. Authority firearms were coded to the biometrics of one unique user, which meant the weapon was useless in the hands of anyone else. Had Tessa not used the wheezing marine’s own finger, the trigger would never have depressed.

  “Get this door open before anyone else notices us,” Harun instructed.

  Reyes and Connor lifted the slumped woman and held her identification card over a scanner adjacent to the entry. One small blinking red light turned to solid green and the door unlocked, revealing a maintenance corridor of unshielded piping and cables beyond. Harun motioned their companions through with an impatient wave.

  “Wait,” Rinko said, kneeling alongside one marine and withdrawing her UpLink.

  Taylor paused at the threshold and glanced down. “What are you doing?”

  “Confederacy helmets have surveillance equipment and record all encounters automatically.” She plugged a trailing wire into an interface on the trooper’s helmet. “I’m overloading its short-term functions with a flash-fry malware. Think of it as a viral bomb. I can’t hack into the system at a moment’s notice, but I should be able to scramble its memory enough that the most recent recordings in the archives are damaged before my malware is purged. Or at least that’s the intent.”

  “Ah, so they don’t have Tessa on camera when she knocked them senseless.”

  “Right.” Rinko detached her cord from the first marine and hooked one end into the other’s helmet. “Give me another second…done.”

  She disconnected and scurried into the hallway as Taylor closed the entry behind them and faced uncharted territory, silencing the persistent voice in his head telling him none of them would ever leave the station alive.

  Chapter 10

  Alexis smiled as she accepted a steaming mug of tea from Evan and reclined in her chair. “Thanks.”

  “I added a dribble of cinnamon,” he said while claiming his own seat. “I know how you enjoy that.”

  “You know me well. So what’s the diagnosis on our precious baby?”

  Their engineer frowned and shifted his eyes to encompass the walls and ceiling. “Still holding together from sheer willpower. The primary propulsion core is stable and functioning at optimal levels, but I needed to patch a couple carbon nanotube cables. Connor deactivated thrust chamber couplings three and seven on my recommendation after fleeing Elatha. I managed to get them working again without raising the chances of instabilities, though only at about sixty percent efficiency.”

  “Cheers to that.” Alexis raised her mug and grinned. “Almost enough to convince me you know what you’re doing.”

  “At least I’ll never get a swelled head around you.”

  Alexis leaned to one side, withdrew her UpLink from a pocket and connected to the stable online network provided by Milesian Station. “Not on my watch.”

  “Interested in reading something?” Evan asked.

  “I’m having a look on InCore for any news about the war. Not much reliable information is coming from the Tuatha system though.”

  “Delbaeth and Elatha are probably disrupting each other’s communication networks.”

  “Plus there’s only so much bandwidth available on interstellar networks, and the militaries have absolute priority. Instead of official broadcasts, I’ve been relying on people like me who live in the Tuatha system. They’re the only ones uploading stories and videos to accessible sites. Rinko and I watched a couple videos last night, showing the aftermath of a bombing on Tuirill.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “One of Delbaeth’s moons. Elathan squadrons and warships struck back hard after repelling the first part of the invasion. They’re punishing Delbaeth for attacking Elathan cities.” Alexis scrolled through newsfeeds and headlines, ignoring ones that exploited the tragedy or came from biased agencies, until one held her attention. “Whoa.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “News from the Parliament Spire on Jiaolong. The Confederacy is sending warships to Tuatha.”

  Evan leaned forward and peered over Alexis’ shoulder at her UpLink. “Can they enter an independent planet’s sovereign territory?”

  “Confederacy laws are fuzzy during an outbreak of war. Especially if they can claim it’s an issue of security.”

  Alexis swiped a forefinger across the screen and placed her UpLink on the armrest as a video clip materialized above the device. A woman stood on a broad stone staircase, flanked by columns and journalists eager to hear her remarks. The headline beneath read:

  AUTHORITY TASK FORCE SENT TO TUATHA: HONORABLE MINISTER SIMA JIAYING ADDRESSES MEDIA.

  “Following six days of debate and arguments, we have reached a decision,” proclaimed Jiaying. “Owing to the Minister of Defense’s regrettably ill-timed leave of absence, I’m pleased to stand in his place and announce Parliament has voted in favor of dispatching a small force of warships to the Tuatha system. Their mandate is to monitor the conflict from a safe distance, but not to engage or intervene unless a formal request is communicated from one or both belligerents.”

  “Yeah, because that’s likely to happen,” muttered Alexis.

  “Though neither Delbaeth nor Elatha are member worlds, the Confederacy Parliament fervently hopes for an end to hostilities and is willing to act as an intermediary during any peace negotiations. We are not allies with residents of the Tuatha system, but we are all neighbors. For the sake of lasting peace and everyone involved, those of us who cast an affirmative vote today will do what we can under the law to help end this senseless war.”

  Jiaying paused and gazed into the sea of cameras with an expression of firm resolve. “And to my colleagues who argued against this measure and allowed a mistaken belief to influence their short-sighted vote, I ask you why we should follow an isolationist policy. If a world and its inhabitants require our help, regardless of membership or independence, how can we in good conscience ignore their pleas? Our species is a community despite political or geographic divisions. It’s time we care for one another, rather than concern ourselves with matters of legalities. Lives are at stake; we cannot do otherwise.”

  She finished speaking and hands lifted skyward from the gathered journalists. The projected screen faded and Alexis retrieved her UpLink. “What do you think this means?”

  “That our situation just became far too complicated.” Evan sipped his tea and rested one leg on his knee. “If those Elathan agents we’re shuttling around are right about the Confederacy instigating the war, then this adds a lot of uncertainty.”

  “Why would they orchestrate a conflict and then act like they’re trying to end it?”

  “Who knows? Depends how many parliamentarians are involved.”

  “If any are. They might be in the dark like us. Maybe this is the Authority’s navy or their intelligence departments.”

  “Parliament has to be involved. I’ve never known a politician who wouldn’t sell their own family for more influence.”

  Alexis rolled her eyes over the rim of her mug. “Not all politicians are dishonest and power hungry.”

  “Poor girl. You’re still young and filled with naïve idealism. Don’t worry, optimism like that’ll get ripped from you over time. We all wind up jaded eventually.”

  She smirked at his sarcastically condescending tone. “Is that a fact?”

  “You’ll be like Kyla one day, mark my words. All sour and scowly toward the universe. You already have a chip on your shoulder. Just need to widen it into a canyon and you’re all set.”

  “Yeah, because we all—”

  Alexis stopped when she noticed Clara enter the galley from a corridor leading to the passenger quarters. “Hey, Clara. Would you like some tea?”

  “No thanks.”

  “I can make you another drink if you want. I know
you enjoy coffee.”

  The starfighter pilot walked toward their kitchen area and fetched plain crackers from a sealed pouch. “I’m okay, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Clara ignored the question and munched on crackers while leaning against a cabinet. “Have you received any communications from Milesian Station?”

  “No, nothing since they left the ship.”

  “Your systems are receiving broadcasts on all frequencies?”

  “Yep. Calibrated them myself. Are you worried something will happen while we’re here?”

  “I don’t trust the Confederacy, and I don’t like being in their system surrounded by warships.”

  “Hard to argue with that,” agreed Evan. “I like to keep a healthy distance between Authority ships and myself, too.”

  Alexis glanced at Clara while she dusted crumbs from her hands. “Do you have experience encountering the Authority? I didn’t think an independent planet like Elatha had much contact with the central government.”

  “Difficult to avoid them entirely, since they’re so desperate to shove their fingers everywhere. Last year I was on a recon patrol in an uninhabited star system, one that wasn’t claimed by us or the Confederacy. By some stupid stroke of coincidence we came across an Authority patrol. Their squadron commander informed us we had breached their territory and threatened to fire on us if we didn’t withdraw. That asshole could’ve started an interstellar incident right then and there. Fortunately no one was spoiling for a fight and we all managed to leave without resorting to killing. But that’s what the Confederacy is: oppressors, warmongers, expansionists. Don’t start thinking otherwise.”

  Clara turned away and retrieved a plain drinking glass to fill with water from the shipboard recycler unit.

  Alexis tightened her jaw and watched the other woman, seeing shadows haunting her every step and weighing down Clara, before deciding to finally speak her mind. “They want you to live, you know.”

  “Excuse me?” questioned Clara.

  “The friends you lost.” Alexis wrapped both hands around her mug and stared at the flowers painted on its sides. “This isn’t a big freighter. I see how you spend each day, Clara. You barely move around, you only eat a few bites, and you don’t talk to anyone unless you aren’t given a choice. I don’t understand the pain you’re going through, and I’m not trying to tell you how to deal with your grief. But sometimes you look like you’re ready to die, and your friends wouldn’t want that.”