by Simon Haynes
Alice grinned. "To think I was supposed to be writing an essay on the rise of the Empire."
"That'd be useful in a gunfight," remarked Teresa.
"I know, right? I keep telling Bernie it's a total waste of time."
"Who's Bernie?"
"My nemesis," said Alice, with feeling.
"Is she with the Dismolle Peace Force too?"
"Are you kidding? She runs the Peace Force."
"Funny. I got the idea it was just you and Harriet." Teresa checked the displays, her face thoughtful. "Is there anyone else in the office?" she asked casually.
"Not really."
Teresa nodded, then turned her attention to the controls. She rolled the ship onto its back, aiming the nose just below the planet, and as they approached the atmosphere she pulled the stick back so the ship skimmed the atmosphere. Then she cut the thrusters, and they sped around the planet in a long, completely silent orbit. Above them, the stars shone bright and hard, like a thousand distant streetlights. "Hungry?" asked Teresa.
"Always."
"Okay. Sit there, I'll get some grub." Teresa undid her belts and strolled to the rear of the cabin, where she opened a locker and took out a couple of dull metal tins. She brought them back, handing one to Alice. Then took her seat, balanced the tin on her knees and peeled the lid back.
Alice did the same, and her stomach rumbled at the smell of hot stew.
"Here, take a look at this," said Teresa, and she eased the stick over gently. The side thrusters jetted, briefly, and the ship slowly rolled onto its back. Vasquez swam into view, incredibly close, and Alice stared at the huge expanses of land and ocean.
They sat there in silence, eating the hot food with the huge, gleaming planet laid out before them. Alice couldn't remember doing anything so cool in her entire life.
Chapter 19
Slowly, the crew member raised his hands, still clutching the thinscreen. Harriet snatched it off him and tossed it on the bunk.
"D-don't shoot," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"How many on board?" demanded Harriet, pressing the gun harder into his back.
"Four crew plus the captain. Supposed to be a dozen mercs, but they didn't make it back before we took off."
Harriet smiled grimly. She could thank Bernie for that.
"Wh-what are you going to do with me? I just look after the engines, I didn't have nothing to do with—"
"Shut it." In the ensuing silence, Harriet wondered exactly what she was going to do with him. She could probably tie him to the bunk, but he'd shout for help the moment she left. She couldn't knock him out with the gun, not without risking killing him. She might have the power settings wrong, and the shot could easily go right through the man … and even the ship's hull. That only left one choice, and with a determined expression, she explained.
"I can't!" protested the man. "Tyron … you don't know him. He'll kill me!"
"You think I wouldn't?" growled Harriet, praying he didn't say yes.
"I-I don't know."
"I'm an officer in the Peace Force," said Harriet, grinding the muzzle into his spine. "I shoot people like you for spitting in the street."
He swallowed audibly. "A-all right, all right. I'll do what you say."
"Good choice. And if you try anything—"
"Don't worry, I got it. I won't give you any trouble, I swear. I—I got family back home."
Harriet felt a flash of remorse, but she crushed it quickly. If he cared about his family so much he shouldn't be working with Tyron Smith, or helping to kidnap Peace Force officers. "Lead the way."
They left the cabin, turning towards the flight deck. At first, Harriet had considered going to the engine bay and shooting the damn things, stranding the ship. She couldn't see any point to it, though, since she'd heard Smith planning a return to Dismolle. No, all she had to do was take charge, so that when they landed on Dismolle she was still on board, rather than floating around in deep space, frozen into a solid lump.
They made their way to the ladder she'd seen earlier, the one which lead upwards through a hole in the roof. As they approached she could hear muted beeps from the flight deck, interspersed with low voices and the occasional spoken order. Smith had to be up there, but it seemed he'd calmed down now that he'd made his plans.
Well, she was about to give him something to rant about, that was for sure. With a nudge, she indicated the crew member should climb the ladder. She wanted to warn him against crossing her, but they were too close to the flight deck, and anyway she was pretty sure he'd got the message by now. The fear in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder was real enough, although that could have been due to the part of his anatomy she was aiming the gun at.
Once he was halfway up, Harriet joined him on the ladder. The plan was for him to step into the flight deck and freeze, so that she could stand behind him. According to the crew member, the access tube was at the rear, so there was no chance of her being surrounded. That was one point in her favour at least. Against that, there could be three or four people up there, all of them armed. She just hoped her captive wasn't universally disliked, or they'd probably open fire, leading to a total bloodbath. Next time she used someone as a shield, she decided to ask how well they got on with their colleagues first. Oh well, chalk it up to a learning experience.
The man stepped off the ladder, and Harriet paused. This was the critical moment. If he started waving his arms and pointing down at her, she was sunk. On the other hand, if he wanted to have any more kids he'd do exactly as promised.
"What do you want?"
Tyron's voice was close, making Harriet jump.
"I—I've got that report on the engines."
"Well don't stand around, man. Bring it here!"
"I … can't."
Harriet moved like lightning, racing up the ladder and popping onto the flight deck like a jack-in-the-box. She registered three people, all of them frozen with shock, and she grabbed the crewman around the neck and pointed her gun directly at Tyron. "I arrest you in the name of the Peace Force," she said, loudly and confidently. "Anyone moves, I'll shoot."
Harriet expected Smith to bluster, or shout, or threaten her, but his reaction was totally unexpected. Even as she held the gun on him, her aim unwavering, he turned his back on her.
"I said don't move!"
"Yeah, yeah."
Harriet was puzzled. Wasn't the message getting through? "This is a real gun, and I will use it."
"I know it's real. It's mine."
Harriet stared at his back. How could he be so casual? She glanced at the gun, wondering whether it was designed to fire backwards if the fingerprints were wrong, shooting the person holding it. That was about the only thing she could come up with, unless the gun was useless.
"You might as well let him go," said Smith. He was eying a display on the console, and he turned to a woman sitting nearby. "Did you track that ship?"
The woman stared back at him, then slowly turned her gaze on Harriet. Her expression was fearful, as though she expected Harriet to gun her down out of hand. The other man, sitting further along the console, hadn't moved a muscle since she appeared. This is completely unreal, thought Harriet. Smith's crew were taking her seriously, so why was he acting so casual?
"That ship?" asked Smith.
"I'm in charge," snapped Harriet.
Smith snorted. "No you're not."
"I've got the gun."
"And what are you going to do with it?" Smith turned to face her. "Say you shoot me. Will that get you back to Dismolle any quicker? What about Lydia over here? Do you fancy shooting her? You could probably take her head off from where you're standing, but apart from making a horrible mess it's not going to make much of a difference, is it?"
Lydia, the female crew member, didn't seem to agree, because her face turned pale.
"Oh, relax, the lot of you," said Smith. "She's not going to shoot anyone. Lydia, that ship, please."
Lydia tore her gaze
from Harriet, and looked down at her screen. "It's o-orbiting Vasquez, sir. Passed right by us, no change in course since it lifted off."
At that moment, Harriet realised she'd lost. Through sheer force of will, or an accurate assessment of her personality, Smith had ended her little mutiny. Silently, Harriet lowered the gun, handing it to the crewman she'd held hostage. He grabbed her arm and twisted her round, holding her roughly.
"Let her go," said Smith mildly. "You can go back to your engines."
Harriet straightened her jacket as the crewman shot her an aggrieved look. He handed Smith the weapon, then left via the access tube.
"You might as well join us on the flight deck," Smith told her, indicating an empty chair at the console. "We're not far from Vasquez now, and once we refuel I'll get you home again."
"I'm not giving Alice up, no matter how much you threaten me."
"You won't have to. I was never going to hurt the girl, I just wanted her to open my box."
"Sure. Which is why you tried to kidnap her."
Smith frowned. "Opening the box may not be the end of it, and I want her around until I get my hands on the cargo. After that she's free to go, and I'll be out of her life for good."
"She's never going to trust you. The two of you have history."
"Her uncle, you mean?" Smith shook his head. "Sandon was a crook. I mean, none of us are choir boys, but that cargo was mine and Family doesn't steal from each other."
"Just everyone else."
Smith shrugged. "It's a big, bad Galaxy."
"So if Alice helps you get the cargo back, you'll leave her alone?"
"Nothing bad will happen to you, or to Alice. I give you my word."
Strange as it was, Harriet believed him. It was a pity he hadn't been so reasonable all along, but then this precious Family of his sounded like a bunch of double-crossing low-lifes. Then Harriet thought about Alice, and she wondered whether she could convince her to go along with the deal.
Smith interrupted her train of thought. "Did Alice tell how it went down? With her uncle I mean?"
"She said you shot him."
"Well, yes, but it was self defence."
"Oh, come on. Really?"
"He tried to draw a gun on me. I reacted."
"That's not how Alice saw it."
"Saw it?" Smith looked surprised. "She was on board when it happened?"
"Yeah."
"Poor kid. No wonder she went around telling everyone I murdered him." Smith shrugged. "Oh well, it's ancient history now."
"Not to her, it isn't." Harriet frowned. Now that she thought about it, would Alice really go along with the truce, or would she throw everything away to avenge her uncle?
"We're approaching Vasquez, sir. Orders?"
Smith tapped a display. "We'll land at this settlement. Check they've got fuel first, though. I don't want to be stranded."
"Yes sir."
Smith glanced at Harriet. "You really don't have to worry. As long as I get what I want, everything will be fine."
Chapter 20
After clearing away the empty tins, Teresa returned and strapped into the piloting chair. "Ready for landing?"
"Sure," said Alice. After the violence of their lift-off from Dismolle, how bad could the landing be?
Worse, as it turned out.
Teresa fired the forward thrusters, slowing the ship, and it was like they'd run into a brick wall. Alice gasped as the harness cut into her, until it felt like she was hanging from a ceiling in the straps. Her neck struggled with the g-force, despite the ship's dampers, and she gripped the armrest tightly to brace herself. She saw long streamers of flame whipping past the canopy, and there was a shrill whistle as the thin atmosphere tore at the fighter's outer skin.
The noise grew even louder as the atmosphere thickened, and the fighter shuddered and shook like a mad fairground ride. Something rattled loudly under the console, and Alice wondered what would happen if the canopy shattered under the pressure. Nothing good, that was for sure. It was the first time Alice had experienced re-entry in a tiny little ship, and the sights and sounds and sheer force of it all was overwhelming. She looked up, and through the twisting contrail of super-heated air, she could just make out the blue and green expanse of the planet.
The noise gradually abated, and as the hot, fiery atmosphere turned dark red before fading altogether, Teresa flipped the vessel back onto its belly, with the planet now out of sight underneath them. The engines throttled back, and they began the long glide to the landing pad.
Alice dashed sweat from her forehead. "That was pretty intense."
"You should try it on a world with a really dense atmosphere sometime."
"It gets worse than that?"
"Yeah, feels like the wings are coming right off." Teresa laughed at her expression. "Just wait until we head back to Dismolle. You'll see."
As the small craft dropped towards the surface, Alice could see an unbroken expanse of forest laid out below. Far away on the horizon, light glinted off the ocean, and she shielded her eyes from the glare. She leant closer to the canopy and peered forward, but the ship's bodywork was in the way and she couldn't see their destination.
The craft rocked as they passed through a wisp of cloud, and Alice rested her head against the canopy to avoid banging her skull. They veered right, onto a new heading, and a pair of towering mountains swam into view, their broken slopes littered with rock. The trees stopped halfway up, and the towering peaks were the only bit of the surface she could see which wasn't hidden beneath the canopy.
It grew darker as they descended, the gleam on the horizon fading to a dull glow. There was no sign of civilisation, no lights or structures that Alice could see, just the endless carpet of dark green foliage. "What do they do here?" she asked.
Teresa snorted. "Exchange stolen goods, mostly. There's a settlement near those mountains, but I'm not going anywhere near that."
"Why not? I can take care of myself."
"You're planning on walking into a den of crooks wearing that uniform? This Bernie of yours … she needs to fast-track your education or you won't live out the year."
Alice was silent.
"Anyway, the landing pads are ahead. They keep them at a safe distance from the settlement, in case the authorities send a patrol. Gives them time to hide everything … and everyone."
As they slid past the mountains Alice saw a fuzzy patch of light, barely visible under the thick trees. Her uncle had spoken of places just like it, but had always left her safely on board his ship whenever he had to 'conduct business', as he put it. He usually came back smelling of smoke and booze, and occasionally cheap perfume as well. Sometimes, when a deal went well, there was good food for days afterwards. The rest of the time they tightened their belts.
"Is your harness tight?" asked Teresa.
Alice gave it a tug to make sure. "Yeah."
"Okay. Stand by."
The landscape was almost black now, the sky a deep, dark blue. The first evening stars twinkled overhead, and Alice wondered if one of the flickering points of light was Dismolle. She was experiencing a strange feeling of loss she couldn't place, and it was a moment before she realised what it was: She'd spent most of her life in space, or moving from one institution to another, but now, finally, she had a home, and she was missing it. Her lips thinned at the thought. Home wasn't just a place, it meant Harriet as well. If Smith had harmed her …
"Setting down," said Teresa, and the craft slowed as the underside thrusters fired. She flared the fighter expertly, bringing the nose up until it was hanging in mid-air, then eased off the thrusters to set down with a gentle bump. Immediately, the engines cut out, whining down to silence.
"Nice landing," remarked Alice.
"Thanks." Teresa shut down the flight systems, then threw off her harness and got up. Alice undid her own harness, and one after another they took the ladder to the small compartment in the middle of the ship. Teresa opened a smaller locker and took out a blast
er, clipping it to her belt. Then she shut the door.
"Don't I get one?" asked Alice.
"No chance."
"I'm Peace Force! I know how to handle a weapon."
"Yeah, but we're not shooting anyone. It's just for show." Teresa saw Alice's expression, and took a moment to lock the door. Then she lifted the hatch in the floor, and a breath of warm, humid air wafted in. It had an earthy smell, with a strong undertone of compost. She saw Alice's wrinkled nose, and grinned. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
"The whole place smells like this?"
"You're lucky it's Spring in these parts. In Autumn you can barely breathe." Teresa gave the ladder a hefty shove, sending it down to the landing pad with a rattle. She peered through the opening for a moment, before climbing down from the ship.
Alice followed as soon as the ladder was clear, and together they stood on the landing pad. The first thing Alice noticed was the insect noise: a cacophony from about a million bugs. The second thing she noticed was the whine of a mosquito, and she swatted the back of her hand as it settled. Another went for her neck, and she splatted that one too.
"They love the humidity." Teresa dug in her jacket and came out with a tiny spray bottle. "Here, put this on. It'll keep them at bay for a bit."
Alice sprayed herself with the strong-smelling concoction and handed it back. Teresa used the spray herself, then tucked it away.
Now that she wasn't being eaten alive, Alice had time to look around. The landing pad was nestled in a tiny clearing, the trees growing right up to the cracked, concrete slab. Some of the branches were overhanging, their leaves brown from the exhaust heat of visiting ships. The ends of some were splintered, where they'd attempted to grow too far.
There was a greenish mist hanging between the trees, and the air felt as thick as soup. Nearby, there was a refuelling cluster, the pipework covered in rust, the cabinet sprouting moss in a rainbow of colours. Even the concrete pad wasn't immune, with weeds thrusting up between the cracks. The whole place was a gigantic, thriving ecosystem, and Alice was certain that if nobody visited for a couple of years, the undergrowth would quickly swallow up all signs of human habitation.
