The Knockabouts

by DK Williamson

  Ned gritted his teeth, his lips peeled back and his fists clenched in suspense. “C’mon,” he growled.

  . . .

  Teller heard the loud crack of rock, but when nothing else happened, he wondered if Ned had failed. That wonderment was soon replaced with shock as a loud crash and then a thud of the boulder plowing over the fence and impacting the ground at the bottom of the cut near the mercenary force. A rolling clatter followed, then cries from the mercenaries as the fence line rolled over the incline, pulling large amounts of dirt in its wake. The fence cascaded over from far end to near, collecting a pair of mercenaries too slow to avoid the hazard. The mercs came toward Teller in a panicked run, many tossing their weapons aside in their haste to escape burial. The Gotmil operatives cut left toward the rock and scoria piled across the old roadway below the position Teller held, just out of his sight. Teller shoved Ned’s blaster into his holster and leapt the duralam wall, running to the edge of the slope a short distance away and taking cover behind a boulder. A pair of blaster shots hastened the mercs flight into the rubble. We have them trapped, he thought.

  Teller kept his blaster trained on the only exit out of the containment. Soon enough, a trio of mercenaries rounded the corner. He fired two shots, dropping two of the mercs, the third retreating back into cover as one more bolt fried the air nearby. One of the downed mercs rose and fired at the spacer, who dropped her with a pair of bolts.

  “Keep trying,” Teller yelled at the mercenaries as he reloaded. “We’ve got more blaster bolts than you have mercs!”

  He received several curses in reply.

  Teller countered with boisterous laughter.

  Ned soon came sliding down the slope, winded and filthy, holding his wounded arm, but smiling nonetheless.

  “How’d you manage that?” Teller said as he returned the engineer’s weapon.

  “I was a marvel with marbles as a kid. Same thing, more or less.”

  “It worked, I’ll give you that, but this was basically the same thing we did earlier. No originality.”

  Ned suppressed a laugh. “Fine, next time I’ll do something dazzling.”

  “How about we make—”

  “We both know how it goes,” Jessop said with a smiling glare. “They trapped in there?”

  Teller grinned and nodded.

  Teller was happy their impromptu operation worked. The mercs were stuck. The problem was, unless they showed themselves, there was no means to kill them.

  “It’s an odd kind of standoff,” he said.

  Jessop moved his wounded arm and grimaced. “It is, isn’t it.”

  “Any engineer’s trick to get those guys out of there?”

  “I’ve already expended my clever solution allotment for the day. Short of convincing them to surrender, an atomic weapon is the only thing that comes to mind.”

  “Need help?” came a deep and distant voice.

  Teller looked behind, up the slag pile, and saw Ord loading his Doomcaster.

  “Sure do, pal. About time you showed up. I doubt you have a siege blaster on you, so I think we’ll have to wait these guys out unless you have an angle on them.”

  “Ord needs no angle. Ord has phlogizein round loaded.”

  “That’s great, but they aren’t behind a cobbled together makeshift barricade like on Fekro Station. That’s hard rock and scoria.”

  “Ord did not use phlogizein on Fekro. Ord used DeLaros Riot-Router.”

  Teller looked at Jessop with a bewildered look. Ned appeared just as confused.

  “You don’t say. You should have mentioned it before. Tell me, pal, how much bigger is the phlogizein’s boom over the Riot-Router?”

  “Do not know. Much bigger.”

  “Use it.”

  “Warn them. Maybe they surrender without.”

  “You got it.” Teller looked toward the merc’s position. “You hear all that?”

  “Yes,” came an answer. The speaker did not expose himself. “Not buying it. Phlogizein? That’s a myth. Pure dungabool.”

  “Nice try,” said a second voice, “but if you had such a weapon, you’d have used it by now.”

  “You hear that, old pal?” Tell yelled over his shoulder.

  “Yes. Heads down.”

  Teller and Ned looked at one another in open-mouthed alarm. “Oh Hades!” they said simultaneously. They scrambled for the duralam wall behind them, hearing the report of Ord’s Doomcaster as they vaulted over and curled into protective postures on the other side.

  The universe ripped open for a moment. A blinding white light fading into orange showed through closed eyelids as a thunderclap overwhelmed hearing and heaved the ground. A knife sharp flash of cold hissed across the two men, burned away in an instant as searing heat rolled over the wall.

  Within seconds, large pieces of debris showered the area around them, then rocks, pebbles, jagged-edged pieces of slag, and finally dust. The two men sat up and looked over the wall. A collapsing energy ball crawling with shades of red, orange, and yellow greeted their gaze.

  Teller rubbed his eyes. “I think I’m blind!”

  “I think I’m deaf!” Jessop said, manipulating his ear with an index finger.

  “I think I’m dead!” came a cry from the merc’s now ruined position. “We quit.”

  Three survivors stood and staggered from the crater, spitting and coughing, covered in filth and orange residue from the warhead.

  “Phlogizein!” Ord yelled from his position above. A look up showed him standing triumphant, left fist in the air, weapon in the right, and defiant smile on his bloody face.

  Teller shot a disgusted look Ord’s way, then smiled and uttered, “Showoff.”

  . . .

  By the time Ord made his way down to Teller and Ned, the pair had swept the area for other Gotmil survivors and searched, disarmed, and secured the three remaining mercenaries. The three looked at the giant as if he were something from mythology as he approached.

  “I swear, I thought the phlogizein was a myth,” one of the mercenaries muttered.

  The three men from the Lance exchanged quick accounts of their actions, with Ord mentioning Ho’s arrival and repair aboard the ship.

  “Ord must see to Ursula,” the giant said. “Will meet you at Lance.” He climbed the slope and strode out of sight.

  “What are we going to do with them?” Ned asked with a gesture at the mercs.

  “I have an idea,” Teller said. He drew his data pad from a pocket and called Ho. “Ord tells us you made it,” he said when Ho answered.

  “I did. I must assume Ord was able to assist you?”

  “He showed up and helped a little, but Ned and me had the mercs right where we wanted’em. You up to retrieving the stunner and have it ready when we get back? We have some mercs we need to ice. By the time these guys shake it off we’ll be gone and they’ll be lucky if their ship isn’t stripped of parts.”

  “I am quite capable, Captain. The stunner and I shall await your return.”

  Teller laughed. “Be there soon.”

  . . .

  Ord came up the backside of the hill where Ursula rested. He announced his presence with a shout, not wanting to take a blaster bolt should she be startled.

  “Is it over?” she asked when he approached.

  “Yes. Ned received no more injuries. Teller was untouched. He rarely is.”

  “Lucky?” she asked with a smile.

  “He seems to have that trait.”

  Ord looked at Ursula’s injured leg and found she had skillfully placed a medpac over both entry and exit wounds.

  He stood and went to Wego and found he was still dead, the battle blade firmly in place. Ord recovered and cleaned the weapon, then searched Wego’s corpse before kicking his body into the chasm. He slid the sheathed battle blade and a few other items into pockets and returned to Ursula. Nearby rested the hammer he had thrown at Wego. He knelt and cleaned the tool, then held it before him. “A fine hammer, deserving a place where it ca
n continue to serve ably,” he said solemnly before he slid the haft through a belt loop.

  “We return to Lance,” he said to Ursula. He easily lifted her and started down the hill, gently cradling her in his arms. She laughed softly at the experience.

  Ord moved toward Jing’s Town, and then followed the ridge that would take them to the area of landing pads where ARC Lance awaited. He came across a smashed bot lying amidst a long length of rusty cable and a broken shackle. He stopped and looked up the sheer face, then back at the broken warbot. “Ho’s work,” he said. He looked at Ursula. “Can you stand?”

  “I think so. Getting tired?”

  Ord chuckled deeply as he set Ursula gently on the ground. “Ho needs parts.” He knelt next to the bot’s torso. “These are parts that might work.” He found both arms were intact and was able to detach them from the mangled bot easily. He tied them together with a length of cord, draped them over the barrel of the D91 on his back, lifted Ursula once again, and began the trek to ARC Lance.

  . . .

  Teller and Ned decided to leave the Gotmil mercs to their own devices. On the way back they learned none of the three were spacers and not a one of them knew how to gain access into the ship that brought them to Meltan.

  “Until Gotmil sends someone to check, I guess you can take up an honorable trade and learn ore processing,” Teller said as they released the mercs on the edge of Jing’s Town. On the way to the Lance, they encountered Ord and Ursula.

  Teller laughed when he saw Ord’s cargo. “Quite a souvenir collection you got there, big guy.”

  The four spoke for a few minutes before walking back to the Lance. As they neared the ship, the rear cargo ramp lowered.

  “Ho,” Ord said.

  As they made their way up the ramp, the Jing’s Town ground station announcement halted them, “It appears Meltan’s first world war is over, and Jing’s Town still reigns supreme. So far, just three survivors have straggled in with tales of giants and phlogizein blasts. A few jolts of the local cider will straighten them out and maybe we’ll get the real story. Salvage rules apply everybody, same as always. You can poke around, but you can’t grab any loot for three local days. Eight ships down in the last three days, but I don’t know if all were involved, so we need to sort that out before the salvage run. Keep your coms on and we’ll let you know.”

  Ned thought for a moment, counting ships with his fingers. He came up with seven. He counted again, ending up with seven extended fingers once again. “Eight ships?” he said.

  “That’s right,” came the familiar but unwelcome voice of Merry Hell. “I’m number eight.” Both of her gyromissile pistols bore on the quartet. “Dropped in while you were busy. Been waiting for you. One, two, three, four. All of you in sight, so no blindsides this time.”

  Teller smiled. “You sure about that?”

  “No more miracles for you. My limit is zero, and you’re already one over.”

  “The warrants on us ought to be invalid by now. You take us in, you’ll find it to be a waste of time.”

  “Bluffs won’t work either, Skellum. Bluffs, blindsides, and miracles are not in play.”

  “You’re absolutely sure about that? Check behind you.”

  Hell’s eyebrows rose. “This again?”

  “Would I lie to you? I wasn’t lying the last time, remember? You fell for the truth.”

  Hell turned her head slightly while keeping her weapons trained on the quartet. She saw the shape of a being at the edge of her vision and did a remarkably quick half-turn, bringing one of her pistols to bear on Ho.

  She laughed at the sight of a beat up and one-armed bot pointing a stunner at her. She looked back toward Teller, covering the group with both gyromissile pistols again. “That’s your miracle? You had me scared for the briefest of moments. A utility bot won’t fire on a Human.”

  “Thank you for giving me a clear line of fire,” Ho said. “Now, if you would kindly lower your weapons.”

  Hell stepped backwards a few steps to be able to observe the bot while covering the quartet of fugitives. She snorted a laugh. “Not often I come across a bot that can bluff. Gambling model?” she said, smiling at her own joke. “Give it up. You’re not a warbot.”

  “I am not a bot of any sort. I am a Mech, and not unfamiliar with war.”

  Merry’s eyes narrowed as she realized her mistake. She turned to fire, incredibly quick, but Ho’s reflexes were electronic and, genmod or not, damaged Mech or not, the bounty hunter stood no chance. Her turn was half complete when the cloudy blue wave of the soporific beam struck her, enveloping her upper torso.

  “Again?” she managed before she crumpled to the ground beside the cargo ramp.

  Teller moved quickly to secure the bounty hunter’s weapons and make sure she was truly disabled. Confirming she was, he stood and slapped Ho on the shoulder. “We’ll make a knockabout out of you yet. That stunner has certainly been useful.”

  “I was bringing it to you as you requested when Miz Hell made her presence known.”

  “And flanked her. Nice job, Ho. Then again, it was my idea…,” he trailed off and grinned. “Hey, I saved the day!”

  “We’re all very impressed by your far-reaching plans, Tell,” Jessop said, “but we do have a couple of people and a Mech in need of care.”

  “I am in no danger,” Ho said. “What do we do with the bounty hunter?”

  Teller crouched and pulled Hell a short distance across the ground to be sure she was clear of the cargo ramp. “She weighs more than I do,” he said with a strained voice. “This is too much like work. Anyone in favor of just dragging her on board and pitching her out an airlock?”

  They all simply stared at Teller.

  “All right. I know another way to slow her up. It’s a little messy and will take a strac pilot to pull it off, but we have one around here someplace….”

  “What did you have in mind?” Jessop asked.

  “Singe her ride a little bit. It’ll buy us a tenday or two to get clear of her.”

  “Won’t she be angry?”

  “Those in her line of work can’t afford to angry.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “She’ll get over it. Right now, we put her inside her ship and lock it up. She had an access card on her. Hopefully we can get inside with it. We’ll tell the folks in Jing’s Town she’s sleeping one off after a party with the crew of the ARC Lance. Then we get you and Urs patched up and clear out of here.”

  “Where do we go?”

  “The Clarion. We pop in long enough to see what the reaction is to Niki’s Altairie piece, then we find some comfortable resort planet and lay low until we’re pretty sure we can show our faces without worrying about the Fawcetts and Hells of the galaxy trying to bag us.”

  “Sounds nice,” Ursula said. “How do we afford this, this vacation?”

  Tell pulled a small stack of Carperan Bank plates from a breast pocket and held them at chin level. He fanned them open like playing cards, then folded them closed in a move worthy of Hugh. “Merc money. Killer creds. It’s the least they could do.”

  Ord laughed and drew a sheaf of Carperan banknotes from a pocket. “Wego had this.”

  “He can pay for Ursula’s recuperation in a comfortable setting,” Teller said. “He owes her that much.”

  Ursula smiled and sighed. “Why didn’t go to a resort in the first place?”

  “We had heat on us and little credits. Besides, resorts are lousy places to host small wars.” He slid the plates back into his shipsuit and said, “This little Meltan excursion paid off.”

  “Speak for yourself. You didn’t get shot.”

  “Hey, I tried.” The looks Ned and Ursula directed at him prompted Teller to put his hands up defensively. “Okay, okay. You don’t even need to crew your duty stations. Same pay as always. You won’t find a better offer… at least not here.”

  . . .

  Ord carried Merry Hell’s inert form while Teller helped Ursula limp
along with the group.

  “Her ship is the same glimmer blue as her garb?” Teller said when they found her vessel, a Beach class transport, commonly used for light freight hauling or business class interstellar hops. It rested not far from Jing’s Town on the eastern edge of the settlement. On the side of the ship was her logo and company name, a spider’s web with shackles and the words COMING FOR YOU TRACER SERVICES above. The ship’s name scrolled under the cockpit transparencies read, CMN4U - HELL’S BELLE. “You know what it would cost to have that done, a coating job like that?” He looked at Ord. “We’re in the wrong line of work, pal.”

  The access card and placing Merry’s hand on a palm scanner allowed them entry into the Hell’s Belle, the power door hissing open. Ned, Ord, and Teller all sneered, each of them believing manual airlocks were preferable on a working starship. They entered the Belle, placing the bounty hunter on a bunk within a berth that apparently served as her office and living quarters. The ship was not luxurious, but its appointments put ARC Lance’s to shame.

  On the way out, Teller gestured at an area toward the stern, a bank of four holding cells port and starboard. “That would have been our place of residence for awhile had things gone differently.”

  “I’m perfectly happy with the accommodations onboard the Lance, thank you,” Ursula said. “Let’s get out of here. This thing gives me the crawls.”

  Once everyone was outside, Teller threw Hell’s access card inside and punched the door control. The door hissed closed and the knockabout made his way to the stern of the ship to look at the Belle’s engine arrangement. Ned soon joined him.

  “I sure hope you know what these are. If not, I’ll be pretty torqued at myself for not looking up the thruster specs on her before we left. ” Teller said.

  “No worries. They’re Spacemax Venture-Fives. An uncommon engine. Built for exploration and survey rigs. This where you’re looking to ‘singe’ her ship?”

  “You got it.” He pointed at a row of devices that surrounded the thrust ports. “Those the magnetic nozzle field projectors?”