Orion Rises

by G J Ogden

  “Fancy seeing you here,” said Hudson, as Cutler stared back at him glassily.

  “You know, I’m getting really tired of chasing you around the galaxy,” said Cutler, taking a single step forward. It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine, given the measured, almost sinister way in which he spoke every word.

  “Then why don’t you stop doing it, dumbass?” replied Hudson. He decided that his more macho, ‘relic hunter’ persona was merited, given the circumstances. Then he noticed that Cutler was armed, and that the strap on his holster had already been popped open, before he’d entered the bar. Hudson was still wearing the shoulder holster and pistol that Tory had given him, but it was still fastened in place. That, coupled with the numerous whiskeys he’d already knocked back, didn’t give him much confidence of coming out on top in a quickdraw contest.

  Hudson stole another glance over to Tory, who had downed the first shot. She was rudely tapping the chipped tumbler with her index finger, while staring at Ma. The last time Hudson had seen anyone look at Ma the way Tory was now, that person had ended up in the infirmary with a shattered nose. Hudson noticed that Tory was also armed with her signature single action revolver.

  “Oh, I intend to stop, right here, on this shitty little world,” Cutler continued, drawing Hudson’s attention back to the mercenary. “Because I can shoot you right now, and be gone before the CET even realizes what happened.”

  Hudson could see Cutler’s fingers twitching, like a Wild West gunslinger, and he felt his pulse quicken. Cutler wasn’t bluffing, and he was also correct; he could shoot Hudson and be gone, before he would be able to react. And from what he’d seen of the CET forces on Brahms Three, it was also true that their response would likely be less than effective. He tried to think of a way out, but the truth was he was cornered.

  Cutler’s hand moved towards his weapon, but before his fingers reached the grip, Tory had drawn her revolver and slammed it down on the counter, finger on the trigger. Tory’s action was like springing a trap. The instant her weapon had been drawn, chairs screeched and the sound of hands clasping metal echoed around the room. The six other occupants of the bar had woken from their apparent stupors, and all drawn weapons. Three barrels each were now levelled at Tory and Cutler. Even the white-haired old man, who had been passed out at the far end of the counter when Hudson arrived, had pulled a gun. He was aiming it at Tory with a steadier hand than Hudson could have managed in that moment.

  Hudson remained motionless; still stuck for what to do next. But at least the immediate threat had gone. Tory’s action had inadvertently reversed Cutler’s advantage. Now, there was no chance of him shooting Hudson, without one of the six other weapons in the room filling Cutler with holes first. Had that been Tory’s plan all along? Hudson thought to himself, wondering if once again Tory Bellona had come to his aid. He looked at Tory’s six-shooter, still resting on the counter with the mercenary’s hand around the grip. But the hammer wasn’t cocked. He met Tory’s eyes and there was an immediate understanding between them.

  Ma was the first person to make a move. She carefully prised the six-shooter from Tory’s hand, and stuffed it down the waistband of her pants.

  “I’ll be wanting that back,” said Tory, calmly, before she rocked back on her stool.

  Ma’s eyes sharpened, “That depends on whether you walk out of here, or get carried out on a stretcher.” Then with the white-haired man still covering Tory, Ma stepped around the bar and made her way towards Cutler Wendell. Her old relic hunter boots, still polished to perfection, thudded on the solid wood floor with a percussive timbre like gunshots. Cutler glared back at her, but took no action as Ma reached down and removed the weapon from his holster. She released the magazine and then popped out the round in the chamber, before tossing the two parts of the weapon onto a table beside the door.

  “I take it you’re Cutler Wendell?” said Ma, looking at Cutler as if he’d just let out a fart.

  “This is none of your concern, barkeep, so I suggest you back off,” said Cutler, ignoring her question. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  Ma smiled, “I’ve dealt with pissant little mercs like you since before you could tie your own shoelaces.” Then without warning she snatched the ship registration fob from his belt. Cutler tried to grab it back, but Ma shoved him against the door, then snapped a jab into his face as he rebounded towards her. Cutler fought back, but Ma caught his wrist and twisted his arm into a lock, causing him to cry out in pain.

  Tory practically flew off the seat towards Ma, but then six weapons instantly turned on her, forcing her to stop a couple of paces short of striking distance. Tory glared at each man and woman who had aimed a weapon at her, then turned back to Ma. The older woman met her eyes, while still ensuring Cutler was incapacitated in the painful restraining hold. Ma held up the registration fob, read the ship ID, and then tossed the fob to Tory, who caught it.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Ma, maneuvering Cutler between her and Tory. “You’re going to leave Brahms Three within the next hour, and you’re not going to come back.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do, lady,” said Tory. Hudson could see the fire in her eyes, burning with the same malevolence he’d seen on Vivaldi One and Bach Two. “I go where I please.”

  “Not in this town,” said Ma, defiantly, while Cutler still squirmed at her feet. “If Hawk-1333F ever touches down on this planet again, I’ll have it stripped for parts, before you’ve even set foot off the ramp.”

  “There are other ways to get here,” said Tory, seeming not to care about the threat to the ship, “and there are other places to land.”

  “Yes, there are,” replied Ma, throwing Cutler down in front of Tory. Cutler cradled his arm, his face contorted in pain. “But you’re not welcome here. So if you do come back, know that you won’t ever leave again. Not while I’m around.”

  Tory helped Cutler to his feet. He growled and spat blood on to the floor from the cut lip that Ma had given him earlier. He shook off Tory’s hold on him, causing the female mercenary to look even more incensed than she already was, and then jabbed a finger at Hudson.

  “You won’t stay on this planet forever,” he snarled. “It doesn’t matter where you go, I’ll be following. Sooner or later, your luck is going to run out, Hudson Powell.”

  Hudson got off the stool and strode up to Cutler. “Maybe you’re right,” he replied, “but today is not that day.”

  Ma opened the door, “One hour,” she said, locking eyes with Cutler. “If you’re not gone in one hour, it’s open season on your ship, on you, and on your partner here too.”

  Cutler spat another glob of bloodied spittle onto the floor and then stormed out. Ma watched him closely until he was out in the street and then turned to Tory, “You too, lady.”

  Hudson stepped up to Tory and then plucked the six-shooter out of Ma’s waistband. The former relic hunter eyed Hudson suspiciously, as he then offered the revolver back to Tory, grip first. Tory looked at Hudson, the fire in her eyes now reduced to burning embers, and took the weapon. She stroked her finger across Hudson’s hand as she did so, before sliding it carefully back into her holster.

  Tory then glanced over at Liberty, before pacing towards the door, as casually as if she were out on a morning stroll. She stopped on the threshold, and then reached into her armored jacket pocket. For a moment, Hudson held his breath, afraid of what Tory was going to do next. However, instead of pulling out one of her many other weapons, Tory held up a one hundred-dollar hardbuck note. She straightened it out and then offered it to Ma.

  “Thanks for the drink,” she said, coolly. Ma took the note, nodding respectfully. Then they all watched as Tory moved outside, without another word or a second look back.

  Ma pocketed the money and then shut the door behind her. Almost immediately the patrons of the bar put their weapons away, and continued drinking and chatting as if nothing had happened. It was so surreal that Hudson
actually laughed out loud.

  “Does this sort of thing happen often?” he asked, still amazed by the synchronized response of the others in the room.

  Ma smiled, “More often than you’d think.” She then walked back behind the bar, popped the caps off six beers, and slid them along to the white-haired old man at the end of the counter. He caught them all, distributed five to the other patrons in the room, before sitting back down at the bar. He raised his bottle to Ma and then Hudson and Liberty, before taking a healthy swig. Ma refilled the whiskey tumblers, and then Hudson sat back down at the counter too.

  “Who was the woman?” Ma asked, taking a sip of her drink.

  “You mean Psycho Lady?” said Liberty, pulling her stool closer to Hudson’s. “You’ve heard of a love-hate relationship? Well these two have more of a love-murder relationship.”

  Hudson rolled his eyes, “Tory isn’t all bad,” he said, rubbing the back of his hand where Tory’s finger had stroked it. “I just haven’t worked out which part of her is good yet, that’s all.” Then he looked at Liberty and raised a wagging finger at her, realizing he’d just opened himself up to innuendo. “And don’t say it, don’t you dare!”

  Liberty smiled, “I don’t need to say anything; it’s written all over your face like one of the neon signs out in the street.”

  They all laughed, which helped to relieve some of the pent-up tension. Then Ma shrugged and added, “Well, if you ask me that lady probably just saved your lives.”

  Liberty folded her arms, “How do you work that one out? She was the first to pull a gun. Seems like a funny way to save someone.”

  “Oh, I don’t disagree,” Ma replied, “but that weapon was an old Colt Frontier Six-Shooter. In order to fire one of those, you have to manually pull back the hammer, and her weapon wasn’t cocked.”

  Liberty now shrugged, “Maybe she just made a mistake and forgot to do it?”

  Ma shook her head confidently, “I’ve known mercenaries like her before. Whatever else she might be, she’s a pro. And pros don’t make that sort of mistake. She never had any intention of shooting, but she also made sure you didn’t get shot.”

  Hudson nodded and drank the whiskey. More than anything, he was just glad that Ma had picked up on Tory’s subtle actions too. It meant that his hope about Tory being the person he wanted her to be wasn’t just a concoction of his own mind. Still, so long as she remained with Cutler, Tory was still a threat.

  Hudson sighed and then looked at Liberty, “I think it’s about time we made a move.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Liberty, “We could just hunt on the wreck here at Brahms Three.”

  Hudson shook his head, “I won’t let Cutler dictate where we go or what we do. We’ve a whole galaxy to explore, and I say we go out and explore it. Screw that guy.” Then he held up his hands, apologetically, “With your approval, of course, co-captain Devan.”

  Liberty lifted the whiskey tumbler to her lips. “Do you really need to ask?” she replied, before necking the contents and slamming the glass back down on the counter.

  CHAPTER 22

  Despite their defiant attitude to Cutler’s threats, Hudson and Liberty had kept a watchful eye on the dark street corners as they walked back to the ship. To Cutler, Hudson was no longer just a bounty; it had become personal. As such, he doubted Cutler would take him out by stealth; he’d want Hudson to know he’d got him. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances, and by the time they’d reached the spaceport, it was clear that Hawk-1333F had already departed. Hudson knew they were safe, at least for now.

  After they had blasted off from Brahms Three, Hudson had proposed heading back to the solar system and then on to Mars. Mars had been Liberty’s preferred destination, prior to Cutler’s attack, but she had mysteriously asked Hudson to wait. As such, for the last three hours, Hudson had been watching Brahms Three slowly rotate beneath him, as the Orion sat in a low orbit above the sweaty little planet. During this time, Liberty had been back in the living quarters. She was feverishly working on the device she was building to interface with the alien crystal. A spread of alien and Earth-based electronics were strewn all across the table and floor. The whole mess had made Hudson’s teeth itch. This was why he’d retired to the calm and, more importantly, tidy surroundings of the cockpit. He felt like he was just about to nod off, when Liberty burst in through the door, holding the contraption in both hands.

  “Sleeping on the job?” asked Liberty, bustling to the front of the cockpit and setting the device down in front of the instrument panel.

  “If my job is sitting on my ass, waiting for you, then I’m guilty as charged,” replied Hudson, yawning. Then he swung his seat towards Liberty, and peered down at the device. “Any luck with whatever that thing is?”

  Liberty was already busy unscrewing a panel underneath the flight deck. “That’s what I’m here to find out,” she said, releasing the final screw and then pulling the panel away. She rested it and the four screws on her seat and then slid the hefty piece of equipment into the space. It seemed to slot in as if purpose-designed for the location.

  “At this stage, I feel the need to reiterate my point about not blowing us up,” said Hudson, as a series of lights and indicators on the contraption blinked chaotically. He could see the crystal through a clear window in the center, reflecting the cockpit lights in its uniquely alien way.

  Liberty started to secure the device in place using the screws she’d removed earlier. “How about you do the flying and leave the engineering stuff to me?”

  “It’s the ‘not being blown up’ stuff I’m most interested in right now,” replied Hudson, refusing to let it go, like a dog with a bone.

  Liberty finished attaching the final screw and slid into her seat, tossing the unwanted metal panel onto the deck beside her. Hudson rolled his eyes, pushed himself out of the pilot’s seat and picked up the panel. “It would be nice if you didn’t leave the ‘tidying up stuff’ all to me too.” He moved to the rear of the cockpit and put the unwanted panel into a storage compartment. Suddenly, the lights in the cockpit flickered, and an alarm rang out on Liberty’s console.

  “What is it?” Hudson asked, darting back to check the cause of the alarm. “Is it Cutler’s ship?” he asked, frantically checking the navigation scanner. But other than a couple of ships heading for the portal that were clearly identified as freighters, the scanner was clear. Then he noticed something he’d not spotted before. Nearby portal coordinates were always visible on the navigation scanner. Ship’s scanners were all tuned to detect the portal's unique Shaak radiation signature. However, the navigation scanner on the Orion wasn’t just picking up one portal – it was showing two.

  “It’s not Cutler’s ship,” said Liberty, answering Hudson’s original question. She had been focused on her console screen, studying a raft of data that made little sense to Hudson. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what it is, but we’re certainly picking up something new. That’s what set off the alarm.”

  “It looks like another portal,” said Hudson, now able to study the scan data in more detail. His sense of panic had gone, but the excitement of the potential new discovery still set his pulse racing. He turned to Liberty. “Is this coming from your new invention down there?”

  Liberty was still rapidly entering commands into her console and assimilating the data on her screen. “I think so,” she said, between frenetic taps of the keyboard. “I think my little Frankenstein experiment might have actually worked.”

  Hudson sucked in a deep breath and let it out. He zoomed in on the location of the new contact and plotted its location in the system. “Whatever this new blip is, it’s near the remains of what used to be the fourth planet in the system,” said Hudson. “It’s just an asteroid field now, though. If I remember rightly, the planet was presumed destroyed in a massive comet or asteroid collision sometime in the past.”

  When Liberty didn’t respond, Hudson looked over to see her frowning down at her screen. It was more a
look of apprehension than bewilderment, which was worrying enough that it prompted Hudson to check in with her.

  “What’s up, Liberty?” he asked, moving by her side. “You look pretty anxious for someone who may have just discovered the first new portal in decades.”

  Liberty glanced up at him and smiled, “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she admitted, “and I also don’t yet understand what I’m seeing.” Liberty’s screen was showing the same star chart from Hudson’s navigation scanner. “This new blip, as you call it, is almost certainly a new portal,” she went on, pointing to the new contact on her screen. “But its Shaak Radiation signature is uniquely different to all the other discovered portals, which is why we couldn’t see it before.”

  “So, your little device down there has somehow tuned our scanners into this new frequency?” asked Hudson.

  Liberty nodded, “The crystal seems able to detect a significantly wider spectrum of radiation frequencies. But it’s more than just an ability to detect them, locally.” She tapped in a sequence of commands and then waited as the display switched to a zoomed-out star chart. She pointed to a random selection of contacts that were overlaid on the chart as green chevrons. “These locations all correspond to the coordinates of known portals.”

  Hudson squinted down at the chart, and then frowned. He recognized many of the portal locations as destinations he’d visited before. “This is just existing map data, though, right?” asked Hudson. “Not a live feed?”

  Liberty shook her head, “No, this is all live data.”

  “But how is that possible?” asked Hudson, as he counted the total number of green chevrons. It looked like every single known portal was being shown. “Some of these portals are thousands of light years from us, we couldn’t possibly be picking them up.”