Ruthless

by Jonathan Clements

  "What?"

  "Stall 'em." Squid looked at his watch. "We hit the solar system for real in, like, twenty minutes. The Terran navy will eat these guys alive."

  Johnny shook his head. "They're criminals, Squid, but they're not stupid," he said. "The bridge will have been the first thing they took. We're not heading to Mars any more."

  Squid swallowed uneasily and looked back towards the lounge.

  "But they could be taking us anywhere," he said.

  Johnny nodded. You had to hand it to them. Low on resources and outgunned, they'd found a new angle. Instead of using their own ship, they would just steal someone else's, get it to their hideout, and then to the double chop-shop. The mechanics would refurbish the vessel, and the body sharks would see to the passengers.

  "Whoever you are down there, give yourself up!" shouted the voice. "Or are you so stupid you're gonna play hero?"

  Squid tugged at Johnny's sleeve and Johnny slapped him away. He was trying to think and Sick Squid wasn't helping. He looked at the snecky little revolver he held. If all the hijackers were using these, their ammo was going to be limited as hell. The guys in the bar area could have more than a few dozen rounds between them and that was assuming that they hadn't fired at all.

  His Westinghouse was locked in a safe somewhere closer to the bridge. It might as well have been in a drawer at home.

  "Think, Johnny," urged Squid. "Make it quick."

  Johnny tried to think like a criminal. The bridge had to have been taken just before they went into warp when it was too late to warn the Mannerheim, but just in time to alter the course. Anywhere ahead of here was in enemy hands.

  "Mister Johnny," called a distant voice. "Can we comes out now?"

  The Gronk and Nigel. They were still unharmed. Which meant that every criminal to the rear of their location was already dead. The numbers weren't so bad. Johnny was outnumbered maybe seven to one. Add Wulf and that halved the odds, except Wulf was now one of their captives. Johnny looked at Squid and wondered if he would make a difference or if Squid's Betelgeusian cohort would be of any help. It could be worse.

  Johnny snapped open the ceramic pistol just to be sure. All six chambers were empty. He grabbed the spare on the floor - empty. Squid looked at him nervously, holding up his own stolen gun which was also empty.

  "Hold your positions, you lot," he yelled back down the corridor at Nigel.

  "What?" asked the confused voice of his brother-in-law.

  "Just... hold your positions!" shouted Johnny.

  Squid hissed nervously through his teeth, his eyes pleading with Johnny not to try anything stupid. Johnny lifted his two pistols aloft, snapping them shut with some momentum. He stared at Squid with a fierce gleam in his white eyes and inclined his head at the bar.

  Squid shrugged his hands in confusion. Johnny had no ammo! What was he thinking? Johnny raised his eyebrows then put a silencing finger to his own lips.

  "Is that the plan?" whispered Squid.

  "Any better ideas?" said Johnny. He brandished the two empty guns like they were ready to fire and stepped around the corner.

  RECKLESS

  Immediately, seven pistols were trained on him. He looked into the eyes of the red-scarved hijackers for any sign that they were bluffing as much as him.

  "I got you covered, Johnny!" lied Squid. The pink-skinned bounty hunter stayed crouched back in the entrance, pointing his own empty gun into the room. Good, thought Johnny, anything that made the scum-sucking hijackers think twice was good. He saw a couple of them train their pistols on Squid then back on him. They seemed jumpy and unsure. It was better than nothing.

  The false window screens above continued to show a soothing image of Mars, the planet's prerecorded image now large enough to fill part of the room with a dull red glow.

  "Only seven of you," said Johnny, permitting himself a lopsided smile. "Don't think you're gonna get away with this."

  "There are plenty more of us!" shouted a hijacker in the middle of the room, his white ceramic gun aimed squarely at Johnny.

  "You mean back in the stern?" asked Johnny. "Think again, they're dead."

  A couple of the other hijackers glanced worriedly over at their leader. Another spun to point his gun at Wulf who had been shifting slowly to one side. The Viking made a show of kneeling back down again but his captor seemed unsure of where to point his gun. He darted his aim at Wulf then at the Boy then at the sulky green form of Blarg, whose topknot could be seen poking above one of the tables.

  "You're outnumbered," said the leader. "Surrender and no harm will come to you."

  "I was just about to say the same thing," said Johnny calmly. Behind him at the entrance, Squid chuckled convincingly. The sound of Nigel and the Gronk could be heard drifting up from the bowels of the ship. The idiots had left their cabin and were coming on up despite what Johnny had said. Fine, thought Johnny. Let them. They were making enough noise for three people.

  "You hear that?" said Johnny. "It's the rest of my boys. You don't believe me, check the ship's cameras."

  "You see this?" shouted the red-scarved hijacker. He gestured around himself at the upended tables and quivering hostages. "This means the ship is ours."

  "I disagree," said Johnny. He walked a few more paces into the room exuding a confidence he didn't have, recklessly walking further out of cover because only someone who really thought he was in charge would do that. His eyes looked from hijacker to hijacker, searching for a face of a man who didn't think his gun would be much use. At least two were only pointing their pistols half-heartedly at their captives, the barrels aiming up as if they never expected to fire them. They were out of ammo, too, thought Johnny. That's two down, five men to take care of. With no bullets of his own and no immediate allies, that was still five too many.

  Over by Isaiah's table, Wulf's gaze met the old man's mismatched eyes. Isaiah held Wulf's stare then looked down momentarily at the table, then back at Wulf.

  "Listen," said Johnny. "We can talk about this. There is still time for you people to give up."

  The leader chuckled wryly.

  "I don't think you've had this kind of trouble before," said Johnny. "You're new to this!" He walked further into the room, his feet nudging the bottom-most step of the bar area. "Did you really think that the navy escort was the only thing we set up?" asked Johnny. "Did you think we wouldn't post marshals on the ship as well?"

  Some of the other hijackers looked back at their leader, waiting for his word.

  "You're a space marshal?" laughed the leader incredulously.

  "I sure am," lied Johnny.

  Isaiah jerked his chin in the direction of the Happy Stick, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Wulf. Wulf looked back over at Johnny and wondered when he would make his move. Why hadn't Johnny shot them already? Looking back at Isaiah, he rubbed his forefinger and thumb together in the intergalactic handsignal for money.

  Isaiah took a deep breath, thinking of how much the Happy Stick was worth to him against how much it would be worth to Wulf at this particular moment. Isaiah slowly nodded. The silent deal was done. Wulf smiled.

  "Using our guns?" added the hijacker. "I don't think so!" The other hijackers laughed.

  Dammit, thought Johnny. He was losing them. Whoever these guys were, they were used to being in control. They were used to having their own ship, their own high-powered back-up with big guns pointing. They weren't the kind of guys who were used to people fighting back.

  Another hijacker took his gun off Johnny to point at the whimpering passengers. His aim came back onto Johnny and then off again. Good, thought Johnny. They were jumpy and they weren't sure who would be a threat. Johnny kept one of his empty guns trained on the leader.

  "Enough of this sneck," said the leader. "Hands up, or we kill some more."

  "This is your last chance," said Johnny. The bar was as quiet as a grave. Johnny felt sweat on his forehead, a drop tracing a slow path down his nose and onto his top lip.

  "F
ine," said the leader coldly. "Erik. Shoot the guy in the wheelchair."

  Another of the hijackers looked back at his leader for a moment too long. Holy sneck, thought Johnny. He was out of ammo, too!

  "Get... er... get someone else to do it, boss," mumbled the hijacker called Erik.

  His boss momentarily frowned at him, and then seemed to understand. "Fine," he said, trying to keep a managerial tone. "I'll do it."

  "No," said the Boy as another hijacker pushed him away with the pistol. "Dad."

  "It's okay," said Isaiah, talking to the Boy but looking at Wulf.

  "Don't kill him!" shouted the Boy.

  The leader grabbed the handles at the back of Isaiah's chair and tugged him over. Just for a moment the chair was close enough.

  Wulf snatched the handle of the Happy Stick.

  "Johnny!" he yelled, and swung.

  Ceramic pistols were strong, but brittle. The Happy Stick smashed the leader's gun into pieces with a tinkle like breaking crockery.

  Johnny charged for the steps, hurling his empty guns at the surprised hijackers. Squid hung back, paralysed, not willing to take the risk. Johnny and Wulf were on their own.

  Wulf swung a second time, his hammer going straight for the head. Another hijacker turned to fire on him but Blarg leapt up and quickly grabbed his arm, dragging it round to fire at one of his allies. The gun went off, its last bullet slamming into a hijacker's forehead. Blarg pounced at the body even as it fell, reasoning that if he was pointing the gun at him for real, there had to be at least one round in there.

  Wulf's Happy Stick mashed into the side of the leader's head, its momentum flinging him into the next table.

  Johnny vaulted a table, kicking with both feet into the chest of a hijacker.

  A gun went off, its slug ricocheting but hitting no one. Blarg twisted it out of its former owner's hand. As another hijacker took aim on Wulf, Blarg shot him once, twice, and then nothing came from the pistol but empty snaps of the hammer.

  The passengers remained paralysed with fear, trembling beneath the tables as the bounty hunters brawled. Another raised a pistol to shoot Blarg, but Wulf hurled his Happy Stick across the room, the blunt business end flying into the base of his target's neck with a sickening snap.

  Johnny grabbed the next assailant with his bare hands, kneeing him savagely in the groin. As the man keeled forward, Johnny grabbed his neck and twisted and another hijacker fell permanently silent.

  Out in the corridor, Squid maintained his threatening stance, although it was obvious to anyone who was looking at him that he had no bullets to fire. Nigel tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to whirl in surprise.

  "What the-? Oh..." said Squid with relief. "It's you."

  "What's happening?" said Nigel. The Gronk peered up at Squid from its vantage point, hugging one of Nigel's legs.

  From round the corner came the sound of screams and shattering glass, bodies hurled over balconies and punches that meant business.

  "We're, er... taking care of things," said Squid.

  "Cool," said Nigel, uneasily.

  From inside the bar came the desperate cries of a man being held aloft, begging for mercy, begging for his Viking tormentor to stop. With a hearty Viking chuckle someone hefted a heavy object through the air, and there was momentary silence followed by the most terrible crash of all.

  "Time to pitch in," said Squid, knowing it was probably too late. With the coolest looking snarl he could muster, he rounded the corner forming a kung fu stance. "Bring it on!" yelled Squid.

  A fleeing hijacker ran straight into him, smacking him back against the wall screen, his outline leaving a wet blob in the soft liquid crystal display. As the hijacker rounded the corner, Blarg pounced out of nowhere, tripping the man headlong. While the Gronk squealed in fear, Blarg twisted the man's arm up behind his back, locking him on the floor.

  "You're not going anywhere," said Blarg with a smile, reaching for his handcuffs. Nigel scratched the back of his head absently. The Gronk cheered, its voice the only thing that could be heard. Squid climbed wearily to his feet and looked up at the bar. None of the hijackers were left standing and their broken bodies were sprawled across the bar, bent in painful positions. One was impaled on a chair leg. Another's head was mashed beyond recognition. In the middle of it all stood Johnny and Wulf, back to back, a thin trail of blood seeping from Johnny's nose. But they were alive, and they were in charge. The surviving passengers looked around themselves with relief and disbelief. A piece of glass from the mirror behind the bar teetered and crashed.

  "Passengers," said Johnny, smiling at at a gleeful Isaiah. "This ship is back under control!"

  There were a few sighs of relief.

  "Don't mention it," beamed Squid at a brunette girl near the bottom of the steps. "All part of the service, baby."

  "Sneck off," she said, turning to help a companion.

  "Now what, Johnny?" said Wulf. What Johnny really wanted was the reassuring bulk of his Westinghouse returned to its holster, but that could wait. He looked around the bar area for any sign of the China's crew, but what uniforms he could see were not moving.

  "Are there any crew members left alive?" Johnny asked out loud. Somebody cleared their throat, but it turned out to be Squid. "Anyone?" asked Johnny. The passengers looked at each other hopefully.

  "Okay then," said Johnny. "Does anyone here know how to fly a spaceship?"

  A woman began to sob, causing a couple of other passengers to glare at Johnny like it was his fault. Blarg and Isaiah raised their hands.

  "Not you," said Johnny to Blarg. Although the Betelgeusian had an attitude problem, Johnny still needed him in a fight. "Blarg, find the purser's body, get his keys, and get all our guns out of the safe. Wulf!"

  Wulf looked up from where he was wiping something off the end of his Happy Stick. Isaiah looked longingly at the hammer and then shrugged. It was a fair deal.

  "Pick Isaiah up," said Johnny. "Take him to the bridge."

  "Just don't drop me!" scowled Isaiah as Wulf scooped him up in his huge Viking arms.

  The bridge of the China was just down the corridor from the bar - the ship's designers had made the alcohol consumption area as large as possible. The pilot and copilot were slumped dead on the floor, their blood smeared across the comms desk. It looked like they had put up the best fight they could, but it hadn't been enough. Isaiah shuffled into the pilot's chair and looked over the control panels.

  "What's the deal?" said Johnny.

  "We are out of warp," said Isaiah.

  Wulf glanced back at the giant screens in the bar area.

  "He is right," he said. "The picture of Mars is very big but it hasn't moved. It is at the end of the movie."

  "But we're not on Mars, are we?" asked Johnny.

  Isaiah shook his head, staring intently at the subsidiary screens. "Nope. They must have taken the bridge just before launch and changed the coordinates"

  "Mannerheim waves bye-bye," said Johnny. "And leave us thinking we're safe."

  "Right," said Isaiah.

  "So where are we?" Johnny crossed his fingers. He wanted to hear "secret pirate base" but somehow he doubted it. These hijackers didn't behave like they were part of a big organisation any more. They behaved like desperate animals fighting over scraps. So if they were going to steal the China, where would they take it?

  Isaiah switched the video wall to a live feed. The image of Mars squelched and disappeared to be replaced by a bright white planet shot with occasional dark ridges of mountains. Rolls of static pulsed through the image every ten seconds or so. There were gasps from the passengers back in the lounge.

  "Johnny," said Wulf. "It is a snow planet."

  Johnny waited for Isaiah to give him more. "Snow planet" didn't narrow things down a hell of a lot.

  "Johnny!" said Wulf again, leaning out of the control room to stare at the video walls. "I can see der Sherman."

  Isaiah nodded along with the Viking. "He's right," he said. "The
re is another ship a mile off."

  Johnny frowned, if the Sherman's course had also been changed, it meant trouble. "They seized both ships?" he wondered out loud.

  "Why not?" said Wulf. "If I was a pirate who had lost my ship, it's what I would do."

  "Why?" Johnny asked.

  "One last-ditch job?" suggested Isaiah. "Grab what you can and run for the hills."

  "You would have to," said Johnny. Once the news got out that the pirates had turned hijacker, every ship for twenty parsecs would be crawling with marshals. It was the type of trick someone would only get away with once. Looking back at the silhouette of Wulf in the door, Johnny smiled. Actually, the pirates hadn't even got away with it once.

  "Get the radio online. Sweep the channels," said Johnny. "Find us human habitation or a passing warship. Anything you can."

  Isaiah began flicking switches on the panel in front of him. He looked perplexed and began slowly nudging the channel selecter through a series of points.

  Wulf looked up at the Sherman on the video wall, willing it to make some sign of life. A spark of bright light threw the freighter into sharp shadow as the local sun began to crest the horizon of the ice planet.

  "Something's not right," said Isaiah, looking up at Johnny.

  "Jah," said Wulf, "you can say that again." He gazed at the troubled star, glowing an angry red. It was riddled with darker sunspots like a heavenly pox and a dozen wild loops of fire reached out from the surface.

  "What is it?" said Johnny to Isaiah, unaware of the image on the screen.

  "Let me put it like this," said Isaiah. "Channel one." He switched the audio from headphones to speaker and the bridge was suddenly full of screaming static. "Channel two," said Isaiah, nudging the dial one notch onwards. There was a momentary pause in the white noise before it returned. Not the empty hiss of dead air, this was the rolling, thrashing noise of stellar torment, the ether inundated with charged particles of dying sun. "And channel three," said Isaiah, twisting the dial once more.

  "Every single one?" asked Johnny. He didn't have all day.