The Knockabouts

by DK Williamson

  “It’s our closing rate and the point where we enter the traffic flow. Skellum’s got us closing about as fast as they’ll allow and entering the flow late. We exceed the limit too close to the station, they’ll beam us to bits. A vessel crashing into the station isn’t very high on their list of desires.”

  Ursula nodded. “The time bonus, that’s why?”

  Jessop smiled and nodded in return. “That, and to win a bet for me. There’s probably a little pride involved too.”

  “Pride?”

  He gestured at Teller and Ord. “This bird and their own skill are what make them knockabouts. I mentioned it back on Vachsblad, these rigs pride themselves on their ability and this ship’s capability to do what most indies can’t. Altairie set a tight timeline. We had some delays. Those two aren’t going to let that stop them. The next crew Altairie uses for a similar job will find an even tighter schedule because of these guys.” He looked at the time on his data pad. “I estimate we’ll pass into our berth on CS-B-Three four chrono units under the deadline. As soon as the skids touch the deck, the clock stops.”

  “And they make an extra thousand.”

  Jessop nodded and laughed.

  . . .

  “ARC Lance, Commerce Station Docking Control,” buzzed over the commo system. “Sending final course and velocity.”

  Teller and Ord looked at the incoming numbers and adjusted to match.

  “Dead on the numbers, ARC Lance. Nice to see a crew of rigs pass through. Keep’er there and we’ll do the rest. You’ll be in berth C-One-One.”

  Lance traveled stern first, slowing a few hundred meters from the station as she entered the damping field. As they neared the open berth, Docking Control called, “Bring up repulsors, Lance.”

  Teller did so. “Repulsors up, CS-DC.”

  “Roger, Lance. Put’er down on the marks. Welcome to Commerce Station.”

  The Lance passed into the station, and leaving just a few meters of space between the nose and the shielded port of the berth, Teller set the ship down. Above the port, a display showed C-11.

  “Time?” Teller said.

  “Five under,” Ord rumbled.

  “Bonus credits?”

  “Ha,” the big man said loudly. “One thousand.”

  The two knockabouts grinned as they went through shutdown procedures while Jessop and Ursula unbuckled themselves and left the command deck.

  Down the passageway, a smiling Limik leaned in the workshop hatchway. He tossed a coin at Jessop as the older man walked toward him. “As soon as I felt that push into the seat I said to myself, ‘never bet against an engineer.’ You needn’t bother to tell me the time. You were right, Mister Jessop.”

  Ned laughed. “Actually I was wrong. I thought it would be closer than it was.”

  Limik glanced over his shoulder, then stepped out of the hatchway to allow Nix passage from the workshop. In her hand, she carried the fifth, and final, data case, labeled BODDAN-III.

  She looked to Ursula. “Prepared to go as soon as you’re ready.”

  Ursula nodded. By now they had established a routine. As soon as the shutdown procedures were complete, Ord or Teller would open the rear ramp and one of the secops would leave with Ursula to deliver a data case.

  The two women walked toward the cargo hold to wait.

  . . .

  Boddan III Security Forces Sergeant Florry stepped into Commerce Station’s C-Deck observation post and tapped one of the security personnel on the shoulder. “Take a break, Morris. I’ll cover for you.”

  The security man smiled. “Thanks, Sarge. I’ll be back in thirty.”

  “No hurry. I’m happy to be away from my desk for a bit.”

  As Morris left, Florry stepped to the viewport. He looked over his shoulder at another security operative seated at the console. “Anything shaking, Nance?”

  The woman looked at him and shook her head. “Ships come and go. Beings pass by. The closest thing to interesting is the tub they just shoved into C-Eleven. Control seemed impressed by her. Other than that, it’s just another flatline day. Not a blasted bit of excitement, Sarge.”

  Florry laughed softly. “That’s just how we like it.”

  . . .

  Ord lowered the ramp and gestured outside. “Clear,” he said with a polite dip of his head.

  Ursula smiled at him. “Thank you. We shouldn’t be long.”

  He grunted and returned the smile. “We will be here.”

  As Ursula and Helen made their way down the ramp, Jessop carried his baggage into the cargo hold followed by Skellum and Limik.

  “You heading out?” Teller asked.

  “Not just yet,” he said as he placed his bags on the deck. “I’d like to say goodbye to Ursula before I go. I wanted to thank you for the ride and for humoring an old man.”

  Limik walked part way down the ramp and watched the two women moving toward one of several large and arched openings that led farther into the station. “An old man that knows something about ships,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m sure happy you took it easy on me.” Helen and Ursula wound their way through shipping containers of varying sizes that littered the bay.

  A woman in business attire spoke into a data pad as she passed through one of the openings, moving toward Helen and Ursula. Limik thought she looked familiar and frowned in thought, but couldn’t place her.

  Some movement in the viewports beyond the two women caught his eye, a group of people running down the walkway. It took little time for him to identify them by their uniforms as station police. Visors and filtration masks covered their faces while a few openly bore weapons. He trotted to the bottom of the ramp and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Helen! Trouble may be brewing,” he yelled, then pointed.

  Nix turned to look at him, then at the police. She grasped Ursula’s arm and pointed at the Lance. It was clear she didn’t care to walk into a law enforcement operation.

  The pair turned back to the ship as the police ran past the first opening and stopped at the second. Looking into the berthing bay, one of them shouted something. Another pointed as more police joined them. They opened fire on the two women.

  Helen’s reaction was swift. She pushed Ursula behind a large shipping container and drew her sidearm, yelling at the police to cease fire. Limik’s reaction was just as quick. He closed on the scene at a run as Teller, Ord, and Jessop moved down the ramp, looking to see what was happening.

  The woman Limik saw before was down and rested unmoving on her side not far from the container that sheltered Ursula and Helen. The amount of fire slicing through the air made it obvious the police ignored Helen’s call for a cessation of fire. Police moved to find better angles of attack, and when they saw Limik running toward them, they took him under fire as well.

  Limik and Nix returned the shots, driving some of the police assailants back to seek shelter. Limik found cover behind a tool rack thirty paces behind and to the left of Helen’s position.

  A group of police rushed forward from the right, firing as they moved. Nix leaned around the side of the container and sent blaster bolts their way, dropping one, then another in rapid succession as the others scrambled for cover and returned Nix’s fire. She dropped an empty magazine and reloaded. Leaning out to fire again, her head suddenly snapped back as a blaster bolt struck her. She fell next to Ursula.

  The two remaining men of the rushing force resumed their move, but retreated when fire from Ursula’s position drove them back. The men near the Lance saw her firing Nix’s blaster blindly around the edge of the container, the shots near enough to give pause to the assailants.

  Ord growled fiercely and strode determinedly toward the fight, balling his giant hands into fists. Teller grimaced and shook his head. Even, even, he thought as he ran to catch up, drawing his blaster from its holster on his right hip.

  “I hope we know what we’re doing, partner,” Teller said as he ran alongside his friend.

  “Our passengers,” the giant grow
led.

  Teller knew exactly what he meant.

  Limik rose from cover, moving toward Ursula. He brought his weapon up to fire as he closed, but a hail of beams and bolts cut him down. Jessop winced when he saw the secop fall, then turned and ran up the ramp into the Lance.

  Ord’s pace increased into a rapid and long-striding walk, Teller splitting off to the big man’s right.

  “Grab Limik’s blaster,” he yelled. “You’ll need it.”

  Ord saw the weapon on the deck near the downed secop and wondered if he would be able to operate it with his enormous hands, a common issue for one of his size. He slowed just enough to lift a small pressure cylinder from the deck as he moved.

  Impossible to escape notice, Ord drew considerable fire from the police, but most of the shots were wild. Fear and shock was apparent on many of their faces as a monster came at them. Their trepidation grew when he roared and hurled the cylinder at them, causing most to duck or scatter.

  In the brief confusion, Ord swept Limik’s blaster from the deck. It was equipped with a rotating trigger guard, common on weapons where the operator might wear heavy gloves in inclement or hazardous conditions. Even so, Ord found the weapon difficult to operate, the blaster looking like a miniature in his hand. A glance at the trim snub blaster’s ammo display showed a full magazine, a blinking 6 on the rear of the weapon. Awkward or not, the monster now hurled bolts at the police.

  . . .

  Ned Jessop entered the Lance’s command deck and found Ho the Mech sitting silently as he had since Teller placed him there so many hours before.

  “Ho, are you conversant with starship functions and their programs?” he said as he climbed into the pilot’s position.

  “I am, Mister Jessop. My certifications for starship operation were removed when I was enslaved, but my knowledge is completely intact.”

  “Plug in and bring up the communications system,” Jessop said as he looked over the controls. “That part of your knowledge?”

  “It is, Mister Jessop. Communications, maintenance, monitoring, astrogation, w—”

  “We’ll cover the rest later. Get the docking and traffic control systems up and see if you can get us an automated clearance.” He began an abbreviated and accelerated preflight process. “Blast it all, but I dearly wish we could find out if that’s a legitimate police operation out there.”

  “I can access the police communications bands, Mister Jessop. It is not heavily encrypted.”

  Jessop did a double take at Ho’s reply. “Bring it up then. I’ll see about getting us the smoke out of here.”

  . . .

  Sergeant Florry saw the group of people running, weapons in hand down the walkway. “Nance, what do we have out there?” he said without taking his eyes off the scene.

  “Nothing, Sarge.” She scanned her screens once more. “Nothing. It’s not a station operation. Want me to call it in?”

  Florry saw them step into the berthing area. They’re cops, he thought once he saw their attire. His face twisted into confusion. “Nance, archive all optical captures on C Deck’s berthing and storage areas for the last hour to current and maintain that status until further notice. The police have something going down, something big based on how many are involved.”

  “Archiving,” she said. “How can that be a cop op without us knowing about it? I get the same feeds their dispatch receives. There’s still nothing.”

  The police opened fire. A woman fell to the deck while two more sought cover behind a shipping container, one of them drawing a weapon of her own.

  “Nance. Check the bird in C-One-One. They have clearance for personal arms?”

  A few seconds later Nance said, “Affirmative, Sergeant. Corporate security, Altairie, out of Vachsblad. Scheduled… arrival today. Reserved berth.”

  “Notify the police of the situation and ascertain if they need our assistance. This is odd. Damned odd.” Florry took his data pad from his belt. “Security Control, Sergeant Florry. Get the Rapid Reaction Force up and armed. We have a fluid situation on C-Deck berthing. Notify the commander.”

  “Will do, Sergeant,” came the reply.

  By now there were several people down, some from both sides of the confrontation, with more coming from the ship in berth C-11, one of whom was an immense being, and Human at that. Florry watched as the giant threw a large object at the police while another man fired a blaster and ran to the woman cowering behind a large shipping container.

  The sergeant shook his head, confounded by the situation. “Nance, what’s the police response?”

  “We know more than they do, Sarge. Whatever that is down there, it isn’t official.”

  Florry snarled. “What in Hades is going on?”

  . . .

  “Are you hit?” Teller yelled over the sound of the fight.

  Ursula looked up, surprise on her face. “No, just scared. What’s happening?”

  Teller could hear the sound of Ord firing at the police. “If we stay around trying to figure that out, we’ll never get an answer. We’ll end up like Nix there,” he said with a point. “We have to get aboard the Lance.”

  “How?”

  “Can you run?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s how.”

  “When?”

  “Now.” He pointed at a shipping container halfway between them and ARC Lance. “There.”

  Ursula stood. Data case in one hand, Nix’s empty blaster in the other, she ran. To her right she saw the terrifying sight of Ord in battle rage, alternatively firing shots from a blaster that looked comically small in one hand, and throwing head-sized metal objects he took from a nearby container.

  Teller fired blaster bolts at the police positions, the thought that they might not even be actual cops passing through his mind. His intent was to make them keep their heads down. He knew that even if they could kill or disable all of their current opponents, it would do little good. More would come, but real police officers if it came to that, and most cops in the galaxy practiced a shoot first, figure it out later policy. Best get out as soon as possible and clear things up from a distance once things cooled down. Staying meant dying.

  “Teller, move!” came a roaring voice.

  Teller knew it was Ord, he knew of no other voice that sounded like that. A pair of quick glances showed him that Ursula was behind the container and Ord was out of ammunition, his friend now contesting beings armed with blasters and lasers with an ancient technique, throwing objects.

  Teller turned to flee and felt his foot strike an object on the deck. A quick look revealed a data pad skidding a short distance away. Ursula must have dropped it, he thought. He scooped it from the deck, shoved it into a thigh pocket, and ran, firing a pair of shots toward the assailants. He saw his friend lifting a composite pillar from the deck and hoist it to his chest. Squatting, then pushing off with both legs and arms, he launched the object over the container he was using for cover. As cries of alarm came from the police positions, then a thundering crash and screams, Ord turned and moved in the same direction as Teller.

  Ahead, Teller saw Ned Jessop standing on the Lance’s rear ramp waving frenetically. “C’mon, go, go!” he yelled.

  Ursula ran for the ship as did Ord. Teller paused to fire a few more bolts at the police before he too made a break for the ship.

  Despite his fire, shots from police weapons sent bolts and beams past them, a few blaster bolts harmlessly striking Lance’s hull armor while one laser speared Ord in the back a few steps from the ramp. Teller was concerned, but the big man didn’t seem to notice or be affected by it.

  Jessop had the ramp closing before Teller leapt aboard. “We’re ready to go as soon as you unlock the controls.”

  “You prepped her?” Teller said, surprise evident in his voice.

  “That’s right. Thank me later.”

  Teller opened his mouth to reply, but closed his jaws and chased Ord down the passageway to the command deck. “You hit bad?” he said, no
ting the small hole burned in his friend’s shirt.

  “No. Long range, heavy shirt, and thick skin help. Stings, but can wait,” the giant said as he entered the command deck.

  With surprising dexterity, Ord climbed into his seat and punched at a pad on the control panel. “Unlocked,” he said as Teller took his seat beside him. “We get away without clearance?”

  “You have clearance,” Jessop said as he and Ursula rushed into the command deck. “How long that stands remains to be seen.”

  Teller started to reply, but simply shook his head and gave the displays in front of him a quick pass with his eyes. The sound of blaster fire thunked against the hull.

  “Can they stop us with hand weapons?” Ursula said as she took her seat.

  Teller nodded. “Remote chance. It would have to be a fluke, but if they land a shot in just the right place, yeah, it’s possible. I have a way to scare them off.” He flicked a pair of switches prompting the hissing sound of something venting outside.

  Jessop smiled. “He vented some of the coolant from the engine nacelles. If the police have any sense, they’ll take it as a warning. If he were to fire the engines in the berth… suffice it to say there would be no more police left.” The blaster fire ceased.

  “Clearance stands,” Ord said.

  “Let’s leave then. I didn’t care for the reception committee.”

  Ord poked a display screen. “We are clear to join traffic pattern.”

  “Repulsors up, then gear up. We’ll move out like there’s nothing unusual going on. We move fast, but stay within the local limits. As soon as we’re clear, we’re going like a parolee from Hades.”

  The servos hummed, then the gear doors clunked closed, and Lance eased out of the station. Minimal thruster power moved them away slowly.

  “We play like nothing’s wrong, but if the alarm goes out, we’ll have to run,” Teller said over his shoulder. “Wish I knew who the blazes those guys in the station were. Not that I’m complaining, but why didn’t you leave, old man?”

  Jessop shrugged. “Where was I going to go, the police station? In case you didn’t notice, those were cops you were fighting with.”