The Knockabouts

by DK Williamson

Teller moved toward the shooter and took cover, kneeling beside a chest-high food dispenser as beings scattered for the many exits from the concourse.

  “I’ll contact Ho,” Jessop said. “We’ll preflight.”

  “Caution. Watch for others,” Ord said as he brought his weapon to his shoulder and moved to join his friend.

  The shooter leaned out and fired two shots, both striking high on the dispenser near Teller. The knockabout’s return shots drove the man under cover once again as Ursula and Ned joined the flow of those fleeing the area.

  Ord took up a position a couple of paces to the side Teller.

  “How long you think we need to keep this guy occupied?” Teller said while keeping the alcove in his sights.

  “Five, six units. Kill him and we can leave sooner.”

  “Hey! You hear me?” came a voice from the alcove.

  “You should have tried talking first,” Teller yelled in response. “You wouldn’t be stuck where you are now.”

  “I’m Myro Throckmorton, fugitive tracer. That data case is mine!” the man yelled. “Leave it and walk away.”

  “Let’s string this out,” Teller whispered to Ord. “Funny, I don’t see your name on it, bounty hunter,” he yelled. “Let’s let the local authorities straighten this out.”

  “I know better. You don’t want the authorities. You’re Skellum. You’re all over the tracer boards, but I’m not after you.”

  Ord grunted his disbelief, keeping his weapon trained on the alcove.

  “I’m with you, pal,” Teller muttered. He looked toward the bounty hunter’s position. “So you’re saying we just leave the case and we can go? You won’t burn a tunnel through our heads like the guy on the table? You won’t come after us?”

  “That’s right. I have a contract on Feng and the case he stole. Him dead and the case intact. The case is seventy-five percent of the bounty. Like I said, I’m not here for you.”

  The giant loaded a round into his Doomcaster and growled quietly. “Ord ready.”

  “That’s not one of those phlogizein rounds like you used on Fekro Station?” Teller said with a worried tone.

  Ord glared. “Snare-sphere. Teller doesn’t listen. On Fekro Ord used—”

  “Good idea, pal. That’ll tie him up. Be ready.” Teller looked over the sights of his blaster. “You have a deal, Throckmorton. We’re backing off. Feng and everything on the table is yours.”

  “Smart move. Good luck to you.”

  The bounty hunter leaned out and fired a shot at the same time Teller and Ord fired. A beam burned through the air near Teller while his blaster bolt gouged a sparking hole just above Throckmorton’s head, driving him under cover again. Ord’s round arced through the air and thudded against the far side of the alcove with a coughing sound, unleashing a cloud of sticky and barbed tendrils designed to entangle and encumber beings.

  “You underhanded bastards!” Throckmorton yelled as the snare sphere’s tendrils bound his legs in place. He fire blindly from his position, beams striking wildly throughout the concourse.

  Ord fired a shot from his heavy assault blaster, a near-miss stopping Throckmorton’s efforts.

  “Move,” Ord said.

  Teller ran and found cover near the table where Feng’s body remained. He looked down on the rat’s inert form. Don’t bring a tail, he said. Should have followed his own advice, passed through his mind. He fired a shot into the alcove and yelled, “Move!”

  Ord turned and lumbered past. A few seconds later, a blaster bolt plastered the wall near Throckmorton’s position. “Move!” Ord shouted.

  “Nobody smokes with Myro Throckmorton, nobody!” the bounty hunter raged from his semipermanent position.

  Teller noticed a cloud of aerosol mist coming from the alcove as he stood. He ran to Ord’s position and stopped. “The bounty hunter has dissolvent for the snare-sphere’s effects. Let’s get moving.”

  The pair ran down the passageway and took a staircase up to A-deck.

  “Should have blown him up,” Ord said as they ran to their docking point.

  “Yeah, hindsight and all that, but blowing up another space station is going to earn us a bad reputation, big guy.”

  They ran into the dockway and aboard the Lance.

  . . .

  The shooting on the B Deck concourse prompted the departure of many ships, including the Housatonic but not yet the MT Tracer, the ship Ho found belonged to Myro Throckmorton. Teller steered the ship into the traffic flow like dozens of others, just one light freighter among many.

  “Tracer has left the station,” Ursula said.

  “Factus control is admonishing MT Tracer for exceeding departure limits,” Ho said. “Mister Throckmorton is attempting intercept under the guise of escaping the shootout it seems. I have station scan data. Relaying to engineer’s station.”

  “She’s quick,” Ned added as he scanned the data on his screens, “but Lance outclasses her. Equipped with beams… looks to be optimized to strip shields… she’s got electromagnetics as well.”

  Teller grumbled. “Question is, does he know which vessel we’re in?”

  “He knows our vessel is the ARC Lance. He is advising Factus control that he is pursuit of us.”

  “Teller grumbled once more. “Does he know Housatonic is ARC Lance?”

  “Captain, we have larger problems than MT Tracer,” Ho said. “Closing from astern near the station.”

  Ned switched displays. “He’s right. Much bigger.”

  Ord looked at the control panel in front of him. “Cruiser?”

  “Packet cruiser,” Ursula said. “Tangan class.”

  “Boddan-Three military,” Ho relayed. “Data on your panel, Captain.”

  Teller looked and saw B3SF-SWIFT and her specifications. “That’s trouble all right.”

  “She’s built for speed,” Jessop said. “Made to run fleet distro. She’s tough and well-armed enough to take care of herself. Also good for chasing down brigands and the like.”

  “And we’re the like?” Ursula said.

  “She’s equipped with four fighters,” Ho said. “Attempting to ascertain type.”

  “Until we know we’ve been made, we play the simple little freighter running in the traffic pattern.”

  “MT Tracer, this is the cruiser B-Three-S-F Swift. Abandon your pursuit and steer clear immediately. Comply or face the consequences. The vessel you pursue carries a warrant sourced on Boddan-Three.”

  Ned looked over his shoulder at Teller. “How do they know he’s in pursuit? Do they know what vessel he’s af—”

  “This is Tracer. Maybe you haven’t checked your position, but you’re in the C-O-P, Swift. You have the same authority here as I do. I’m in pursuit of a legal bounty. I tracked Feng here, not you, so why don’t you clear off. The Housatonic is mine.”

  “Now everbody knows.” Teller punched several keys on the control panel. “We’re blank on the transponder, but if they already have a track on us….”

  “MT Tracer, this is B-Three-S-F Swift. Abandon your pursuit. We have ARC Lance identified on sensors. This is our pursuit.”

  “Swift, blow it out you nozzles. You’re off your turf.”

  “Gotta admire his spirit, but that’s a dangerous game he’s playing,” Teller said offhandedly. “We’re pinged. We can stay in the pattern and use the other ships to cover us, but we’re putting others at risk if either Tracer or Swift fire on us. Much as I hate to come off as caring, let’s get gone.”

  “Swift is closing rapidly, Captain,” Ho said.

  “Got it on my panels. The longer we wait to move the closer she gets. We can outrun her, but if she fires on us or launches fighters… I’m altering course. Heading for Sessler-Four.”

  “Put planet between them and us,” Ord said.

  “That’s right, pal. Ned, Ho, watch the shields and defensive systems. Urs, call the action. Hold on to your drawers everyone.”

  ARC Lance began a sliding turn to port and out of the traffic s
tream as she accelerated to match and overcome the Swift’s greater velocity. Behind her, Tracer and Swift maneuvered to follow.

  “MT Tracer, this is the cruiser B-Three-S-F Swift. This is your final warning.”

  “The Housatonic is mine. Smoke you, Swift.”

  Teller shook his head. “Throckmorton is lacking impulse control, methinks.”

  “They wouldn’t fire this close to the station and all the traffic, would they?” Ursula said.

  “MT Tracer, you were duly warned.”

  Alarms warning of weapons fire sounded on Lance’s command deck as the display point that represented the Tracer went off screen.

  “Cruiser Swift, this is Factus Control. You are in a heavy traffic system. Cease fire, cease fire.”

  Navigation displays showed ships in the formerly orderly traffic patterns altering course in every direction imaginable, some headed directly at the B3SF Swift.

  “Factus, B-Three-S-F Swift, sending on all channels. We are in pursuit of fugitive vessel. Direct traffic away from us and stay clear. We will not fire upon your station or Tagamo unless you interfere.”

  “How’s it feel to be the source of an intergalactic incident?” Teller said with a smile.

  “Fighter launch,” Ho announced. “Four.”

  The smile on Teller’s face disappeared, replaced by a predatory glare. “APF-Seven-Seven-B aerospace fighters,” he said glancing at the display in front of him. “Nice ride, but a little dated. Carries missiles and a pair of heavy autoblasters.”

  “They are closing.”

  Ord watched the screens in front of him. “They are splitting into pairs.”

  Teller nodded. “Figured they would. I’m taking us down. Our shields can’t handle the firepower of that cruiser for long, and if those fighter jocks are halfway decent, they’ll slow our run into slipspace long enough to make sure Swift gets a crack at us.”

  “Sessler-Four?” Jessop said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Won’t the fighters come after us?” Ursula said.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “Have you tangled with fighters before? Down in the atmo?” Ned asked.

  “In the Lance? No, but I know where this ship outperforms those crates and vice versa.” Teller’s voice took on an edge Jessop knew well, that of a small warcraft pilot prepared for battle. “Those jocks are dealing with an unknown. That’s advantage: us. Four fighters can’t shoot at us at once, so their numbers advantage only counts for so much. I’m taking us down low and fast. We’ll see how tight these pilots are.”

  The Lance shuddered as she made her descent into the thickening atmosphere of Sessler IV, her shields buffeting the gases away from the hull.

  Sessler IV was a sparsely populated world, not because of harsh climate or any other natural condition, Sessler IV’s problems were entirely being-caused. More than a century of mining the mineral rich planet left her a toxic wasteland littered with decaying structures, dilapidated roads and tramways, and rusting and rotting mining apparatus, not an uncommon fate for some planets. The cost to restore the environment was one the government of the Sessler system was unwilling to undertake, so they left the planet to heal herself.

  “Aren’t we vulnerable right now?” Ursula said.

  “Not really,” Teller said. “If the cruiser was closer, yes. We’re not slipping into the atmosphere right now, we’re burning a hole in it and letting the shields take it. The fighters must follow us in the same way if they want to have a shot at us, and they can’t fire while we’re transitioning from space to atmo in this manner. We’re in the lead so we get the first move.”

  “There are four of them. They are military… fighters.”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy, but four fighters down there is a lot better odds than four fighters and a small cruiser up there. A fighter is fast because it’s small. That small size also helps make a fighter nimble because of the low mass. Small size also means a fighter’s counter inertia system and repulsor-inertial compensating capability is limited. You start making room for all the amenities and you don’t have a fighter anymore. The engines on a fighter are small as well, especially when compared to larger ships. All they have to do is push a fighter and one or two crew. The CIS/RIC on those crates is optimized for the fight in space. Down in the gas fighter pilots have to rely on physical fitness to get the most out of their rides. They pull serious Gs, and without good fitness, they can’t run with the big dogs.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we can pull harder than they can. That doesn’t mean we can outmaneuver them, but we can make them work and work hard. They’re aerodynamically slick, but so is the Lance. Our G compensation is better, so we don’t have to strain like they will… and trust me, I’ll make them strain.”

  “You have plan?” Jessop said.

  “Plans are the first thing to go in a fight. I’m betting on them underestimating us. If they assume we’re simply a quick freight-hauler with just a simple point defense array, they’ll try and get in close without feeling us out. If they do, they have a surprise coming.”

  “And we’ll be in range of their heavy auto-blasters.”

  “It’s a trade-off. It’s the nature of the game. You know that, Ned.”

  “Yes, but I never fought fighters in atmo. That was the purview of crazies in fighters.”

  Teller laughed. “I know the limits of my insanity, let’s see if these guys know theirs.”

  Teller watched the readings on his control panel with frequent glances out of the command deck transparencies. “Shields off,” he said as he leveled out.

  “Shields off,” Ord said. The Lance shuddered as her winglets and hull bit the air, bending the flow and creating lift.

  “Shields off?” Ursula said with alarm.

  “Remember, we’re faster with them off,” Jessop said without taking his eyes off his station displays. “Shields are like pushing a wall through the atmosphere. We also maneuver better down in the gas using the winglets.”

  “I’m coming off the repulsors,” Teller said. The Lance jostled as she settled fully into the aerodynamic lift that held her aloft.

  “I’m monitoring hull temps,” Jessop said.

  “I have the fighters’ communications,” Ho said.

  “It’s not secure?” Teller said.

  “Encrypted, but only slightly more complex than the police band on Commerce Station.”

  “Well, put it on the headsets. I don’t believe in fighting fair.”

  “—their game is? They’ve pulled out low, boss,” said one of the fighter pilots.

  “Don’t know what their plan is, Two, but they don’t have many options.”

  “Affirmative, One. She’s pretty quick though.”

  “A smuggler accustomed to outrunning second-rate patrol craft, that’s all. Swift Flight, stand by for pullout. We come off shields and run this cargo box down. I’d like to be back in Syndic space before someone calls us on our little venture into Confederation space.”

  A light flashed on the control panels at Teller, Ord, and Ned’s positions.

  “Temperature warning,” Ord said. “Secondary Terrain Guidance System.”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Jessop said. “It’s not an overheat. The manufacturer was very conservative on the warning threshold. I’m watching it.”

  “Green’em up Swift Flight. Slot two by two, wide. This guy’s out of sky. He goes up, we put him down. He stays low we put him lower.”

  “They are weapons hot. We’ll try the secondary element,” Teller said as he watched two pairs of indicators move apart on his panel display. “Unless we have four hotshots on our hands, Three and Four are the B-team. Coming right.”

  “Three, he’s going your way,” the flight lead said. “We’ll cross behind and cut him off if he stays in the turn.”

  “Affirmative, One”

  Teller smiled as he came back to level flight and the flight lead and his wingman slo
tted in some distance behind the other element. “Just cut their advantage to two-to-one.”

  “What in Hades are we chasing here?” Three said. “Our closure rate isn’t much. Sure isn’t a tramp freighter.”

  Teller threw the Lance into a hard left turn, taking the fighters by surprise, evidenced by their slow reaction to the maneuver.

  “At edge of laser range,” Ord said.

  “No shields,” Three said, the strain of fighting G-load audible in his voice. “The cargo-hauler’s running naked. That’s a new one. This guy must think he’s something.”

  “Start pecking at them on my call,” Teller said.

  “Three, this is One. Plant this guy and let’s go home.”

  “He’s coming into the edge of blaster range, Boss.”

  “Affirmative, Three. Light him up. He’ll make a mistake when the bolts start flying, and when he does, he’s ours.”

  “Here we go,” Teller said.

  Three fired, and an instant later, the Lance banked hard left. The fighters moved to follow. The moment their wings tilted, the Lance rolled and darted right as blaster bolts streaked through the air, several impacting Lance’s hull.

  “We’re hit!” Ursula said.

  “We’re clean,” Jessop said. “Hull armor handled it. Blaster bolts at the end of their range. Most of their mass and velocity burned off.”

  “That thing can dance, but I’ll score him,” Three said, the strain greater now. “Closing in.”

  “Three, this is Four,” Three’s wingman said, her voice strained as well. “You hit him. He’s hit. Just a matter of time.”

  Three fired again, blaster bolts streaming at the Lance. The first few rounds peppered the closed cargo ramp of the old sloop before Teller blipped the repulsors on, popping Lance above the rest of the burst.

  Teller watched his display panels and as the fighters behind came up to bring their prey back into heads-up display sights, he dipped the nose and jinked to the left, blaster bolts flying by to the right and high.

  “He’s not making it easy,” Three grunted.

  “Ord, now,” Teller barked.

  Ord fired both laser arrays, targeting the two nearest fighters.

  “Four’s hit!, Four’s hit!” Four yelled, her voice coming up in pitch.