Project Starfighter

by Stephen J Sweeney

  “Sounds like the Ten Commandments,” Sid said.

  Chris thought for a moment. “Yes. I think that might be what he’s claiming they are. He’s likely telling his followers and everyone else that they’re a doorway or passage to the one true Heaven.”

  “Whatever they are, he’s sure upset WEAPCO a lot with them over the past year or so.”

  “So long as he keeps it up,” Chris said. “Diverts attention away from us, at least.”

  The waitress showed up a short time later. The two plates of food she carried drew the two men’s attentions from the screen.

  “So, what happened to you?” Sid asked. “When WEAPCO hit the fleet, I mean.”

  “I was on The Eye of the Storm, the battlecruiser,” Chris explained. “Like everyone else, we were preparing to jump out of Spirit and head for Eyananth, and begin the assault on the shipyards and mining plants there, to deal damage to two major supply lines in one go.

  “When the AI bots and starfighters came by, I tried to get to the fighter bays to repel them. I didn’t get the chance. They hit us so quickly that I wasn’t even able to get to the launch bays before they were tearing the Eye apart. My route was totally cut off. A few people got spaced.”

  Sid stopped eating at that moment, his mouth hanging open. “You saw it happening?”

  Chris nodded. “Almost right in front of me.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “The captain sounded the call to abandon ship, and I ran for the escape pods. I managed to get into one of the last ones remaining. I remember looking out the window of the capsule before it sealed itself and seeing the faces of those who were about to be left behind.” He shook his head, looking down at his food, for the moment losing his appetite. “It was horrible. I knew they were going to die and there was nothing I could do about it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sid said. “Did you know many of them well?”

  “Not really, but I wish I could’ve done something.”

  “It sounds like there was nothing you could do,” Sid said. “You didn’t abandon them on purpose. I’m sure if they had been first to the pods, they wouldn’t have waited for you, either.”

  “I know,” Chris said. He carried on eating despite no longer feeling hungry. They had all but spent their last few credits on this meal. “But what I want to do now is to make sure that they didn’t die in vain. I will find a way to fight back against that damn corporation. I know where to get a starfighter from; a Firefly. It’s still in a cargo unit at Hail, where—”

  Sid coughed suddenly, his eyes offering explanation.

  Chris didn’t look immediately, but when he did, he saw a drone passing nearby. The damn things were everywhere! He hoped that when they got to Hail things would be different. They couldn’t keep wearing prosthetics and falling silent whenever one of WEAPCO’s machines was around.

  Chris watched the drone as it hovered outside the restaurant. It seemed to be scanning the patrons. It didn’t stay there long, moving off again. Chris wondered if it was searching for the phone he had recently ‘lost’. As Sid had said, if WEAPCO were monitoring his bank account, they would know that the access attempt had originated from somewhere in the starport.

  “How many hours starfighter training did you put in?” Sid continued, once the drone was well out of earshot.

  “Three hundred, maybe?” Chris hazarded. He wasn’t too sure. He had lost count.

  “How much of that was simulated, though?”

  “Almost all of it.” Chris felt a little despondent about that. He had no idea whether he would have been much good as a fighter pilot, or of much use to the Resistance at the end of the day. The times he had been in an actual craft in space he had been good, but far from exceptional.

  “Do you have a plan? For when we get to Hail, I mean,” Sid was pressing.

  Not really, Chris thought to himself. He was winging it, making it up as he went along, and hoping for a spark of inspiration. The first thing he wanted to do was attempt to contact any remaining members of the Resistance that were still gathered in Spirit, and get the movement started again. He told Sid as much.

  “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to,” Chris added as they finished up and exited the restaurant. “I’m not going to force you to do anything that you don’t want to. I think right now that you’re one of the few people I can trust, though.”

  “No, that’s why I am coming along,” Sid said. “You’re probably one of the few people that I know of right now that wouldn’t try to turn me in.”

  Chris smiled. At least he had one ally. “Come on. Let’s go wait for our shuttle,” he said.

  Chapter 5

  They had no money. They needed money. Chris wondered what he possessed that he could sell. Nothing of any real value. The phone might have gotten him something, but that was lost to him now. He and Sid still had the chameleon suit with them, though. That could fetch quite a lot of money. Yet it didn’t feel right to sell it. Something told him he should hold onto it for the time being.

  “Thoughts?” Chris asked Sid, as they disembarked from the shuttle and onto the platform at the space station.

  “I could try hacking something,” Sid suggested. “If I can get to a terminal, maybe I could rig us up some fake bank accounts, put some money in there, load it on to the cash cards, and then close everything up again. Risky as hell, though. Could result in WEAPCO tracking us.”

  Chris was willing to take the chance. Their stopover up here was a good seven hours. Time enough for Sid to work some magic and find a way to get them some funds, he hoped.

  “What do you need?” Chris asked, continuing to walk along the platform with everyone else who had arrived at the space station.

  “Just tools and a computer that can talk to the outside world.”

  “I seem to remember there being a net café around here,” Chris said. “Want me to come with you?”

  “No,” Sid shook his head immediately. “It’s best I do this alone.”

  “You’re sure?” Chris said.

  “Positive. But how about I meet you in the departure lounge in an hour, whichever way it goes. I’m not going to go for it immediately. I’ll first of all evaluate how easy it is to do, and just how visible I’ll make myself in the process.”

  “Got it,” Chris nodded. “I’ll see you, then.”

  Leaving Sid to go about his task, Chris took to wandering the station. He was relieved not to see any drones around. Perhaps they had already been through here, or maybe they were yet to come. He was glad that his disguise was still in place and apparently working. He had become aware of food particles trapped in his false beard as he had journeyed up from the ground in the shuttle. Not a good look most of the time, but here it added to the authenticity.

  He passed an electronic noticeboard, doubling back to see if there was any work to be had. It was possible that someone might want something transported from Ceradse to Hail. Some senders chose to work with individuals, rather than companies, due to budget constraints, paranoia, or because of the dubious nature of the item being transported.

  Chris saw as he commenced working through the listings that the lead item was the hunt for Sid and Tyrone. The reward money was now half a million per head. That was a lot. He ignored it and moved on, flipping through the listings, glossing over the items and services for sale, and moving to the ‘Help Wanted’ section. No packages or other items were on offer to be transported to Hail, and not a lot else, either. Hell, he knew it was a long shot but had hoped to find something in there. But seriously, who was he kidding? No one had ever been known to pay more than a hundred at most for the transport of a package within the same system. The largest offer he had ever seen made on a parcel delivery was close to one thousand, and that had been for taking something from one side of the known galaxy to the other.

  With little else to do as he waited for the hour to be up so he could get an update from Sid, Chris began to idly read through the other adv
erts. There were a number of people looking for cheap passage to other systems, some vessels offering jobs as crew (tempting, but he didn’t want to be tied into a work contract), ‘removal’ and ‘retirement’ jobs (basically assassinations, dressed up as casual send-offs for people who had enjoyed a long and fulfilling career), and adverts placed by those searching for missing persons.

  Chris accessed the retirement jobs, unsurprised to see that neither the target themselves nor the compensation on offer were detailed in the description. The client wished the applicant to contact them using a special system that Chris had never heard of. It was likely familiar only to those in the assassin game. He backed out of the section and turned to the Missing Persons adverts.

  ‘MISSING – HARRY WHEEL, AGED 10. LAST SEEN ON MOEBO, 25TH JULY 2411’

  Someone’s child. And most likely kidnapped and trafficked.

  ‘LOST – MITZY. TWO-YEAR-OLD, BLACK AND WHITE, SHORT HAIR’

  Someone’s pet cat. A few others in the list were also searching for pets, apparently.

  ‘MISSING – URSULA LEXX, AGED 23. LAST SEEN IN THE EYANANTH SYSTEM. SIGNIFICANT REWARD’

  Chris accessed the full detail of the listing, partly out of curiosity to see if there was a photograph of the missing woman. There wasn’t. The detail of the listing itself was also very short, only describing Lexx in brief, and stating that she worked as a xenobiologist.

  Done with the board, Chris was turning to leave, when his eye caught one of the ‘Help Offered’ adverts.

  ‘PRACTICAL SOLUTIONS TO EVERYDAY ISSUES. COMPETITIVE PRICES TO SUIT A VARIETY OF SITUATIONS AND FIX A WIDE RANGE OF PROBLEMS. SECURE YOUR FUTURE WITH US, WITH EASE’.

  Chris requested further information, but found that the summary provided little but contact details. He recognised them, though. These were the credentials of a local mercenary group. The Resistance had made use of mercenary services in the past, to help get certain aspects of their movement started.

  At that moment, the spark of inspiration hit him. All Chris had to do was wait for Sid to return. He settled down in a seat by a large window overlooking the planet below, pulling together all the threads of his plot in his head.

  ~

  “How did it go?” Chris asked as Sid took a seat next to him.

  “Okay,” Sid said. It didn’t sound like it. His tone would have been more enthusiastic and upbeat if it had.

  “Did you manage to get anything?”

  “I got some money.” Sid shrugged. “Just not a lot.”

  “Fair enough. How much?”

  “A few hundred. Four hundred and seventy two, to be exact. I didn’t manage to create any new accounts, though. I had to rig up some access to existing customer ones ...”

  “Sid ...” Chris started, appalled.

  “I know, I know,” Sid said, clearly troubled by what he had done. “I tried to stick to the Robin Hood mentality, but most of the accounts I found weren’t as well off as I would have liked. I took a little bit from each of them, before I closed everything down. I didn’t want to stay on the banks’ networks for too long, in case they detected me.”

  “Did you try to unfreeze my account?” Chris asked.

  “First thing I tried. Both of ours,” Sid said. “But I failed twice, so decided to let it go. I didn’t want to leave a trail for the drones to follow and get to us.”

  Chris nodded in understanding. This was far trickier than he had hoped it would be. Still, at least they had some money. That was better than none at all. It was also just enough for what he had in mind. With what money they had left from various other things, Chris figured they had maybe a little over five hundred credits to their name.

  “I always said that I would use my skills for good,” Sid started babbling. “I never stole from anyone, or ripped people off. I was the sort that would always tell people if they had undercharged me, or if I thought I could offer them more value for money for my own services.”

  “Sid, don’t worry about it,” Chris said.

  “But I can’t help it,” Sid said. “I don’t want to turn into that which I despise.”

  “We’ll make sure they get it all back,” Chris said. “And we’ll bring them more, too. Anyway, there’s been a change of plan – we’re not going to Hail anymore.”

  “Chris, our tickets are non-refundable!” Sid cried. “If we don’t take the liner to Hail we’ll be stuck here.”

  “No, we won’t,” Chris said, rising from his seat.

  “So what are we doing?” Sid asked, starting up after him.

  “We’re going to the Alpaca Group.”

  “The asteroid family? But what ... No! Chris, we can’t go there! It’s full of mercenaries! They’ll see straight through our disguises and turn us in.”

  “Shh!” Chris urged him. “Keep your voice down. Yes, it’s where the mercenaries all hang out. I want to get them involved and do some work for us.”

  “Chris, we barely have five hundred credits to our names. There is nothing they will do for us for that sort of money.”

  “Leave that to me,” Chris said.

  “And how are we going to even get there? It’s not as if they schedule regular flights to the Alpaca Group.”

  “Easy,” Chris said, making his way over to the electronic bulletin board. “We just need to post an advert here and wait.” He did so, typing out his requirement, while intentionally withholding some of the details. There was little doubt in his mind that the Corporation monitored systems such as this. A request to journey to the Alpaca Group could only mean conducting business with the residents. Chris just had to be sure that he worded his advert in such a way that WEAPCO wouldn’t flag the requesters as possible Resistance escapees. He offered four hundred as payment, knowing that anyone who answered the advert would request more.

  Hours passed. Chris saw the liner that he and Sid were originally scheduled to be on depart the station and make the intra-system hop to Hail. The departure lounge filled and emptied as people came and went. Eventually, Chris checked the bulletin board and saw that someone had responded to his ad. A man was willing to take both him and Sid to the Alpaca Group, but might want to negotiate on the offer price. Should they agree, Chris and Sid were to meet him in docking port E.

  ~

  Chris had expected their contact to be, as he had told Sid, somewhat ‘dodgy-looking’. He had anticipated a man profusely tattooed, quite likely also covered in scars, and maybe even missing an eye. He would be thin, his voice possessing a coarse tone and attitude, and he would look as though he spent far too much time in a bar or in the sun. He would also be very cantankerous.

  The man that greeted Chris and Sid as they arrived in the docking port couldn’t have been more different. Neither thin nor fat, he was more like an ordinary man fighting to hold off middle age spread. He was well dressed, clean-shaven, and, upon setting eyes on his two new potential customers, smiling.

  “Jim Barnet?” Chris asked.

  “Ah,” Jim said, coming forward and shaking their hands. “Nice to meet you. Are you all ready to go?” he asked, looking about and behind Chris and Sid to see if they had brought luggage other than the small case Chris held.

  “All set,” Chris confirmed, having been given the nod from Sid.

  “This your ship?” Sid asked.

  It was a medium-sized vessel. Far larger than the shuttle that had ferried Chris and Sid from the surface, but considerably smaller than the liner that would have transported them to Hail. This was more like a private aircraft in size. It likely wasn’t all that cosy on the inside.

  “This is the Sauvignon Blanc,” Jim said proudly, slapping his hand on the hull of the white ship. “Had her for over nine years, and she’s never done me a day wrong.”

  Chris nodded. “So, you fully understand our requirements and what all the risks are?”

  “Sure,” Jim continued to smile.

  “And you’re comfortable with transporting us over to the Alpaca Group and attempting to gain ent
ry to a mercenary base?”

  “No problems.” Jim waved a hand dismissively. “I was just heading over there, anyway.”

  “You were?” Sid frowned.

  “Oh, yes. They sometimes hire me as a separate contractor, to perform little tasks for them. We’re not best friends or anything, and we’re hardly likely to invite one another out for a beer, but they know and trust me. It’s a relationship that works.” He shrugged.

  “Fine,” Chris said, starting forward as Jim operated a control to open a hatch in the side of the ship.

  “Oh, about the price ...” Jim began.

  “Four hundred is all we have.”

  “You and I both know that’s as false as those two beards you’re wearing,” Jim said with a grin.

  Startled, Chris and Sid backed off.

  “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Jim said, displaying his palms. “Whoever you really are is no concern of mine. All I’ll say is that those disguises might be good enough to fool the drones and some of the less observant out in the station, but not old Jim.”

  Chris glanced to Sid. “Fine. But five hundred is literally all we really have. That’s the last of it. Our tickets to Hail are non-refundable, so are only worth the card they’re printed on.” He waved them at Jim.

  “Oh, I’m not looking to overcharge you,” Jim told them. “I was going to say that if you can’t get into the asteroid, I’d only charge you a hundred for the return journey. Saving of three hundred!” He grinned and chuckled.

  “Sounds fair to me,” Sid said to Chris’ unspoken question. “Not like we have much of a choice at this point, either.”