Deadland Drifter: A Scifi Thriller

by J. N. Chaney

  Reginald slowly backed away as Killington approached in the vehicle. Killington did not slow down as he went by Reginald, and the younger terrorist let out a stream of curses as he had to practically jump into the moving vehicle with Sara in tow.

  Burner was powerless to do anything but watch as the vehicle accelerated down the forest path and was quickly out of sight. He was left alone with nothing but a couple of shot up vehicles and an empty farmhouse. The terrorists had scattered and left, and Sara had been captured. And soon, all the civilians on the Pharbis were going to be in grave danger.

  But setbacks, no matter how major, had never been enough to stop Burner. Sure, he was tired, and wounded, and suddenly all alone and without backup. That was all part of the job.

  Taking just a moment to catch his breath, Burner cracked his neck and began to make his way toward the forest path.

  ABOARD THE UNION SHIP THE LIBERTY WARD, NIMROD SECTOR, UNION SPACE

  The shuttle bay doors opened, and Stack stepped out into the Liberty Ward. He stretched out his back, grateful for the space to move around after the cramped condition of the farmhouse and the series of small ships and shuttles he had to take to rendezvous with the Ward. He’d like to have said it felt good to be home, but considering what he had come here to do, this was the last time he would see this place. Possibly the last time he saw anything besides the insides of a prison cell.

  A young aide with well-trimmed facial hair that complied perfectly to Union standards for civilian attachés greeted him. “Welcome back, sir. The admiral is pleased with your timely return. He’d like to see you on the bridge as soon as you get settled. Things have been… interesting recently.”

  Stack feigned ignorance. “Oh, really? Ravager problems?”

  The aide glanced both ways and leaned in conspiratorially. “Worse. Terrorists. They tried to assassinate the admiral.”

  He tried to look worried. “Assassinate the admiral? That’s bold. I hope Thiel wasn’t hurt.”

  The aide gave him a condescending look. “Thiel? Of course not. They say that guy’s bulletproof. Between you and me? They didn’t even get close. These terrorists are kind of clowns.”

  It took all of Stack’s self-control to not punch the aide in his face. “Oh? Surely, if they got close enough to assassinating the admiral for it to be worth mentioning, they must be somewhat dangerous.”

  He got a frustrating chuckle in response. “They didn’t get that close, really. Their triggerman exposed their schemes, so the admiral faked his death and those idiots bought it.”

  Stack decided he should get away from the aide before he showed him how dangerous a terrorist could be. “Sorry, it’s been a long flight. I’d like to get to my room.”

  “Oh, of course. Rest well, sir.”

  Stack descended to the cabin level and walked down the corridor toward his room. He had almost made it the whole way when a firm hand caught him by the shoulder.

  “Robbie, my boy, good to see you back!” Lieutenant Potters smacked his large hand on Stack’s back. “How was the vacation? Where was it you went? Acaridian A?

  He took the abuse with his usual good grace. That meant he hid his grimace by looking in the other direction. “Acaridian B, actually. A lot of tropical beaches, you know.”

  Potters was a bear of man, wide enough that he took up nearly the entire corridor, making him a hard person to just slip past. “Ah, yes, that was it. Said you were going to work on your tan, but your face is still as pale as ever.”

  Stack gave a sardonic smile. “I might have overdone it a bit with the sunscreen. Didn’t want to burn.”

  “Classic Robbie!” Potters had a deep laugh. “Always overthinking everything. Guess that’s why you ended up in admin, eh?”

  Outrank you, Lieutenant. “Yeah, yeah, ‘classic Robbie.’ Hey, can we catch up later? I want to take a nap before I report in.”

  “Of course, of course. Get those Z’s when you can. We’re going to be busy the next few days.”

  With that, Potters moved over enough for Stack to squeeze by. Stack had a particular dislike for interacting with the man, though sometimes it was good to be reminded why he did what he did. The Union was run by imbeciles like him, and other imbeciles like him were responsible for enforcing their rules. It was a shame that such extreme methods were required to resist them, but sacrifices were going to need to be made if people were ever going to be able to live free.

  Even if Stack had to be one of those sacrifices.

  He continued to his room to prepare for his final role in the plan.

  29

  Outside Trion City, Demeter

  Burner had to momentarily halt his pursuit when the shrapnel wounds in his legs got to be too much of a hindrance. He sat down in the middle of the path and rolled up his pants legs to get a better look at the damage. He’d taken two cuts on his left leg during the explosion. There was only one on his right leg, but it was larger and Burner could see a faint black glint sticking out of the wound where a piece of metal had become lodged inside it. If he left it in there, it could get infected.

  He pressed down on the wound, causing a fresh flow of blood to start leaking out, to reveal more of the metal shard. When the shard was exposed enough for his fingers to grip it, he carefully took hold and began to pull. It was stuck in there good, and Burner had to be careful when removing it not to open the gash more so that he wouldn’t pass out from blood loss. Pain seared up his leg and down his thigh, but compared to the misery of pulling his own tooth just a few days earlier, it was nothing.

  The shard wouldn’t budge, and Burner couldn’t get a better grip on it, so he started to wiggle it a bit back and forth, opening the wound wider. More blood began to flow but the shard did start to move. He was pretty sure it was a flesh wound and wasn’t stuck in a major artery. If the latter was the case, he would have to leave it in. Slowly though, Burner was able to extract the metal shard. When he had the full length in front of him, he saw that the shard was much longer than he had thought, at least three inches. He was lucky nothing important had been hit.

  A minute later, he had found a clean shirt in the farmhouse and applied a makeshift bandage and was back on his way. The vehicle he had left near the entrance of the forest was right where he had hidden it.

  Unfortunately, the terrorists had a large head start on him. What he had going for him was the large amount of damage the transport had taken. It would be going slow, wouldn’t be able to hover at high altitudes, and would not be able to travel far without repairs. Burner began travelling in the direction of the city, as it was the most logical choice.

  He received the first confirmation of his logic when he spotted patches of black liquid dotting the ground in a straight line toward the city. The transport was leaking engine fluid and creating a direct path for him to follow. Bingo!

  After a while, though, the black stains disappeared, and when they didn’t reappear, Burner became worried that the terrorists might have turned off the expected course and he had missed the sign. He thought about doubling back, but his gut told him to keep pressing on toward the city and he trusted it.

  A few kilometers later, he spotted the transport in the distance. It wasn’t moving and a black plume was wafting out of its engine. That explained why the black stains had stopped: the engine had completely leaked all of its fluid. Cypher had tried to keep driving without it and had killed the engine in the process.

  Burner slowed down as he approached the transport, though he already had an idea what he was going to find. Cypher was gone, probably picked up by Killington when the second-in-command caught up. The back of the transport was open and crates with their lids unhinged were arranged in a chaotic mess nearby. The terrorists had searched for the most important of their supplies and abandoned everything else. At the very least, he and Sara had cost them that much.

  If time had permitted it, Burner would have liked to go through the transport and those crates for any clues that might have been left be
hind, but Sara had been captured and the terrorists were on their way off-planet. He’d have to try and remember to shoot the local authorities a message so they could come and collect the evidence later.

  He eventually came across the vehicle that he’d abandoned the previous night and sped the rest of the way to the city. When he reached the city limits, a warning message on the navigation console told him that he was far exceeding the local speed limits and that automated speed control protocols would be activated. Burner growled at it. He could have overridden it with one of his cracking tools, but if he sped through a crowded city in a stolen vehicle he might end up in a high-speed chase with the authorities, and that was something he didn’t have time for right now. He let the navigation program pick the fastest route while he tried to place a call on his com.

  To his surprise, he had enough of a signal now for the call to go through. He was connected to a representative of the spaceport. “This is Trion City Spaceport, how can I help you?”

  “You have some very dangerous people who are about to take off from one of your docks.” The navigation console told him that he was ten minutes away, and given the terrorists’ head start, they could be loading up their ship already. “There are either three or four of them, and they’ll be escorting a blonde woman. They should be easy to spot, some of them are going to look beaten up. The one to watch out for is a bald guy in a suit.”

  There was a pause. Burner was worried that he had lost the connection. “Sorry, what exactly do you want us to do?”

  Burner’s jaw clenched involuntarily. It was times like this he wished he still had the authority of his Union rank to give commands. Not that they respected Union authority out here. “Listen, if they get away, a lot of people are going to die. I’m not asking you to confront them. Just don’t release their ship. Keep it clamped to the dock. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

  The reply was full of static and Burner knew they were going to lose the connection soon. “Can you give us a better description?”

  “Oh, come on! How many ships are leaving your little spaceport in the next ten minutes that have bald men and half-conscious blonde women loading up?” The only reply was static.

  Burner cursed and slammed the dashboard in frustration. The locals wouldn’t be any help, though he should have expected that. Out here, survival often meant minding your own business, so even if you had proof of criminal activity it was often better to just ignore it.

  He suffered through the following nine minutes journey into the spaceport, wracking his brain for something useful he could be doing to stop the ship taking off.

  When Burner finally pulled into the port docks, he saw Killington’s car with its shattered windshield parked illegally in front. A port employee was directing a tow to take it away. Burner left his car right behind it.

  The port employee tried calling after him as he rushed inside. “Hey, you can’t park here. I’ll have them tow you, too!”

  Burner ignored the threats as he sprinted past the main lobby, down the terminal, and toward the docks. He heard the occasional shout as he brushed past a traveler too slow to get out of his way or when he kicked over a bit of luggage. As he pushed into the restricted docking area, he was aware of Security taking notice of him, but he didn’t have time to slow down and act less conspicuously.

  There were two ships with enough activity around them to suggest they were getting ready for departure. One was a single person short-range craft that was being loaded up by an older woman. The other was a large, modern model that was popular with Ravagers for its number of supported weapons systems and the wide availability of replacement parts. The name Atlantis Falcon was painted on its side in bright red letters. Several figures were walking up the loading ramp into it now.

  That was them. Burner could make out Cypher at their head and Killington bringing up the rear. The pizza loving Cade was with them, apparently having been picked up somewhere in the forest and once again given the task of hauling their gear. Reginald half-carried half-dragged Sara, whose head was drooping like she was half-asleep. She looked even worse than before. They must have done something to her. Sedated her maybe?

  He rushed toward their dock and reached it just as the doors were closing. He ran up the loading ramp, drawing his weapon as he went, and opened fire on the ship’s door. The bullets ricocheted off the tough alloy, putting small dents in the metal but not punching any holes. He pulled his cracking tool as he reached the door, but before he could even load it up, the ship began to beep in preparation to separate itself from the airlock and docking clamps. There was nothing more he could do.

  Burner had been too slow, but he might still be able to catch them before they left the atmosphere. The McGarry wasn’t too far away. He might be able to reach it in time.

  Assuming there were no other obstacles. Which, he saw as he turned back toward the terminal, was wishful thinking.

  A handful of Security enforcers stood waiting for him. They had been called about a strange man running through the private docks, and that man had just pulled a weapon and fired on a departing ship. Their expressions were tense. If Burner so much as hinted at drawing his weapon again, they would have no problem pulling theirs.

  The one who seemed to be in charge, a man with a bushy mustache, stepped forward with a hand on his holster. “Sir, you’re going to need to come with us. Please hand over your weapon and come with us to the security station. We’re going to run your ID and ask you some questions.”

  Burner didn’t have time for any of that. He decided to make a single attempt to reason with the Security officer. “Listen, I’m working with the Union, and right now I’m in the middle of trying to stop some very dangerous terrorists. You need to let me go.”

  The officer looked discomfited. The Union might not have authority out here, but not many would want to be on their shit list. Especially on such a small planet with limited means of defending itself. “We still need you to come with us. We’ll run your ID, and if your story checks out, we’ll let you go.”

  The Union might confirm Burner’s story if asked. Or they might decide to deny everything to keep the terrorist plot under wraps and leave Burner to rot. Either way, it would take too long.

  He gave the officer a threatening stare and watched him wilt under it. “Listen, I’m going to leave now. I highly recommend, for your own sake, that you don’t try and stop me.” He tucked his weapon into the back of his pants and started to walk away. For his first few steps it seemed that his threat had worked. The officer was definitely reconsidering getting involved with what was potentially a dangerous Union agent. Eventually, though, either duty or pride won out, and he gave the order to his men to surround him while stepping in front of Burner himself.

  That didn’t leave Burner with many options besides fighting his way out.

  An important concept when dealing with opponents you’d like to bring down non-lethally is “escalation.” That is, at what point one side or the other starts to act with lethal force, forcing the other to respond in kind. As much as you might want to leave a target alive, if they pulled a lethal weapon on you, self-defense obligates you to do the same. That is why, for non-lethal combat, it was important to finish the fight before escalation could occur.

  Burner didn’t really want to leave a trail of bodies of Security officers who were just doing their job, however much a pain the ass they might be. So, instead of drawing his weapon again, he went with a shock-and-awe approach. Starting with punching the lead officer square in the face and dropping him to the ground. He then lunged at the next closest officer.

  Two punches to the gut and one to the chest sent the man reeling away. A third bravely got in his face and tried to land a straight jab of his own. Burner blocked it. A fourth foolishly grabbed Burner from behind and tried to get him in a shoulder lock. Burner struck out behind him with his elbow, feeling a crunch of cartilage as he connected with his assailant’s nose. With a sweep of his leg he knocked th
e other from his feet, giving him a good kick on the way down to ensure he stayed there. Pain from the shrapnel radiated up his leg, but Burner ignored it.

  The last standing officer saw his peers go down and reached for his gun in a panic. Burner reached him before he could aim it. One jab to the chin sent the officer stumbling backward until he stumbled back on his tail and came to a rest there. Bewildered, he raised his arms over his head in submission.

  Shouts told Burner that while this batch had been dealt with, more would be coming. He took off at a full sprint away from the terminal and back to the station’s entrance.

  Outside, the tow had returned from moving Killington’s vehicle and was getting ready to hook itself to Burner’s borrowed ride. The station employee gave Burner a smug look and stepped in front of him as Burner went to rescue his auto. “I’m sorry, sir, but you were warned not to park here. If you’d like to collect your vehicle, you will have to contact the tow company.”

  Burner shoved him roughly aside and climbed into the jalopy. He took off just as another wave of Security officers appeared from the entrance.

  This time, he chose to override the vehicle’s speed limit enforcement protocols. He was already in trouble with the planet’s Security, so it couldn’t possibly make things any worse. Pushing the wreck’s struggling engine as fast as it would go, he burned a path through the city limits. As he put distance between himself and the city, he became confident that no one had managed to follow him. If Security had still been after him, he had escaped from the city too fast for them to properly organize a pursuit.