The Final Dawn

by T W M Ashford

  The entrance was carved into the bottom of a dusty red cliff face. A couple of Drygg guards sat on old crates to the right of it, playing some sort of card game. They barely looked up at Jack as he approached.

  "Er… mind if I take a look around?"

  The two guards looked at one another, then shrugged.

  "Knock yourself out," said one of them, dealing a fresh hand.

  Jack continued onwards. See? The Dryggs seemed nice enough. Too friendly if anything. Tuner didn't know what he was talking about.

  He followed a long slope down into the depths of the mine. Metal girders and protective nets lined the interior, though the cut of the rock was so smooth and precise that Jack couldn't imagine anything ever falling loose. An endless wire looped along the ceiling – every few metres or so, a dim light shone from it like a firefly.

  Jack had expected the tunnel to be cooler than the rainforest outside. Yet the further he walked into the mine, the hotter the air seemed to get. It was like walking into an oven.

  Hell, it was like walking into a planet’s core.

  Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His tongue turned to sandpaper. Blood pounded in his temples.

  He was seconds away from turning back when he caught sight of the tunnel's end. He staggered on, clutching at the nets on the walls for support until he reached the bottom.

  Huh. No wonder he felt so hot.

  An enormous cavern lay before him. Huge stalactites grew out from the ceiling and dripped into pits of lava bubbling in the rocky floor below. The air swam and danced in a thick haze.

  Automata were everywhere. Some drilled into the walls and cracked the rocks free. Others took those rocks and chiseled the iridium out of them. A third set carried trolleys of the precious element across treacherous natural bridges to conveyor belts on the other end of the cavern.

  The Dryggs stood beside each station and watched. Jack finally realised what their bulky white armour was for. Aside from preventing their exoskeletons from getting scratched by falling debris, their light, reflective colour made them stand out like safety vests in the dark cavern.

  Jack could understand why someone would choose to make automata do the work in such an inhospitable environment. He presumed the appropriate model for the job didn't feel the heat the same way a "fleshy" might. Using automata as a source of cheap labour was undeniably unfair, but, at the end of the day, it amounted to a job – no different from any other.

  It didn't seem half as bad as Tuner had made out.

  An automata pushing a trolley of iridium across the cavern slipped on a spot of wet rock. Its precious cargo went tumbling into the lava. A furious Drygg marched over and threw the poor, protesting robot in after it.

  Ah. Jack raised a hand to his open mouth.

  Scratch that. It was worse.

  He turned around and began the slow climb back up the slope. Behind him, the Dryggs dragged a replacement automata out from storage.

  Okay. He got it now. He got it. The population of the galaxy didn't view the automata as second-class citizens, or even as slaves, because the galaxy didn't view them as people at all. An automata was a product, no different from a data pad, or a self-driving car, or a glorified toaster. If it didn't work, you threw it away and got a new one.

  No wonder the crew of the Adeona were desperate to find that Detri place… even if it was just a fairy tale. If the whole universe saw him as disposable, he'd probably feel the same.

  His eyes stung from the sweat and heat. He rubbed them with his knuckles and blinked heavily.

  A small rectangle of daylight peered down at him from the top of the slope. He pressed on, panting and wheezing. The air grew cooler as he climbed, but the suspicion that he was on the verge of passing out remained.

  Well, the best of luck to the Adeona and her crew. It was probably a good thing they were going their separate ways. It wasn't as if he could do anything to help. He wasn't in a position to help any of them, really.

  He felt bad, but he had his own battles to fight.

  Like getting back to the bar, for starters.

  12

  Ode Vadasz, Bounty Hunter

  Ode Vadasz set the Black Arrow down on a dusty, rocky steppe not far from the small mining settlement. He hopped out of the cockpit and kicked an inquisitive rodent away from his ship.

  Standing at the edge of the steppe, he shielded his eyes with a leather-gloved hand.

  Haldeir-B. Hot, sticky and with a gravitational pull just shy of comfortable, Ode could have named half a dozen moons around the planet better suited for an emergency pit stop. But he supposed it could have been worse. Smaller populations meant fewer witnesses.

  He knelt down and pulled a pair of binoculars out from within the depths of his cloak.

  Where were they?

  After some focussing and adjusting, he spotted the Adeona's hull poking out above the tree line a few clicks west. He made a mental note of the rooftops between the ship and what looked like a rudimentary mine. A Drygg guard patrolled a landing pad on top of the red cliff above. Ode reckoned she was too far away to be a problem.

  A good start, but he needed a better view.

  He walked back to the ship and yanked open a compartment. Inside was a small, black puck not dissimilar to the disrupter mine he'd fired before. This one, however, had an antenna built into the top of its head, which Ode promptly extended.

  The puck rose into the air, spinning and beeping. It stopped a few feet above his head before extending a pair of tiny stabiliser wings.

  Then it waited.

  Ode smirked to himself. The old automata were the best. They didn't think unless they were told to.

  He double tapped a panel strapped to his left forearm. A holographic video screen leapt out. It was a camera feed from the drone – he could see himself in its picture.

  He entered a few co-ordinates into the panel, and the drone jetted off over the treetops.

  It arrived at the Adeona eleven seconds later. It hung back, dropped between the branches of the dense tree canopies where it wouldn't be seen, and watched.

  The disrupter mine still clutched the ship's backside like a barnacle. A small, gangly automata clambered over the hull and tried to pry it free with a makeshift crowbar. After a lot of straining, the mine remained where it was and the robot got catapulted off the landing pad.

  Ode sighed. This wouldn't be difficult.

  He piloted the drone over the top of the dock and down the street. It was a town of store clerks and off-shift miners, and otherwise as empty as he'd hoped. With any luck, he'd be in and out of that dump before any of the locals figured out what was happening.

  Not that it mattered if they did, of course.

  He just preferred to keep things clean.

  Ode was about to return the drone to the ship when he caught sight of something out of place. He guided it further down the street and zoomed in on the anomaly.

  A strange man in a cumbersome spacesuit emerged from a path hidden amongst the dense foliage and staggered towards the only bar in town. He appeared to be sweating profusely.

  Ode squinted at the shimmering hologram. He recognised the man stumbling down the street – not to mention a couple of the automata tending to the ship – from all the commotion back on Kapamentis. The spaceport had been busy, but in his line of work it paid to have an eye for detail.

  He lit a fresh cigarette and took a long drag.

  His client hadn't mentioned anyone besides the bolt-buckets. They were the bounty, not the man.

  Still. Any and all threats had to be dealt with, one way or another.

  He took control of the drone again. Nobody noticed it pass over the roof of the general store any more than they did the great birds that glided silently across the alien sky. Nor did anyone see it descend into one of the settlement's dark and narrow alleys.

  There it hovered, waiting on standby.

  Ode double tapped the panel on his forearm and the hologram vanished. He took
another drag on his cigarette.

  Boy, was this a strange gig.

  Ten thousand credits was a lot of money. Not a fortune, but certainly far more than a ramshackle crew of obsolete automata was worth. There had to be something else – the true bounty – stashed away on that ship.

  He inspected the twin revolvers on his belt, admiring the way the sun danced across their silver barrels. Then he flicked his cigarette off the edge of the steppe.

  He would set off a beacon once he had the ship and its crew in his possession, as was expected.

  Ode grinned.

  It would be a terrible shame if any precious cargo went missing before his client got there.

  13

  Showdown on Haldeir-B

  Jack nursed his third complimentary cup of water, having downed the second immediately upon returning to the Drygg bar. Each tasted even better than the last.

  The longer he sat there by the counter, the less severe his headache became. He hoped it wasn't heatstroke. He doubted there was a decent hospital for lightyears.

  His skin felt all sticky. His hair clung to his forehead. And he was pretty sure his sweat had formed into pools inside the legs of his spacesuit.

  He hadn't spoken to anyone since he got back from the mine – not the bartender (aside from to ask for more water), nor the Drygg couple still sitting and drinking together. After what he'd seen going on down there, he didn't particularly feel like making conversation.

  Neither had any more automata come to say goodbye. A quick glance over in the direction of the Adeona told Jack they were no closer to leaving the moon than he was. On the contrary – if her wild gesticulations were anything to go by, Rogan was more frustrated than ever.

  He felt like he should go help… but what on earth did he know about disrupter mines and skip drives? Besides, they'd made it perfectly clear they didn't want him getting in the way.

  Thirty-seven different bottles of brightly coloured liquid stood in a line on the shelf behind the bar. He knew because he'd counted them all. Twice.

  He tapped his fingers against the counter and started to count them again. The bar could have done with some music. Once this headache cleared, he was going to get really bored.

  Something hard and blunt jabbed into his side.

  Jack looked down. The blood ran out of his face.

  A gun was digging into the soft, elasticated material that sealed the two plastic halves of his spacesuit together. A very fancy gun, for that matter. It resembled an old revolver, complete with rotating chamber and hammer. Although its colour was a dark sort of silver, it was carved with blue alien runes and made from a material Jack had never seen before.

  A gloved hand held the gun. It looked… normal.

  Jack raised his head to look his potential assailant in the eye. Much to his surprise, the man had two of them. They were the usual size and shape, with striking blue irises. His jaw was chiseled and lined with tired stubble. He had ears. Normal ears.

  He was so familiar and ordinary, Jack almost had a heart attack.

  "Are you a human?" he whispered, for a moment forgetting about the gun pointed under his ribs. "From, you know, Earth?"

  "Never heard of it," said Ode, speaking out the corner of a sneer. His breath smelled of old tobacco. "Don't speak unless I tell you. And don't lie either, unless dripping from the walls is your idea of a good time."

  Jack tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. He turned to face the bar and nodded quickly.

  "Good," said Ode.

  The Drygg bartender wandered over, paying neither of them much attention.

  "Hey there," he said, polishing another metal cup. "What can I do—"

  "Best if you leave us alone for a few minutes," said Ode, making no effort to conceal the threat in his voice.

  The bartender looked first at the bounty hunter, then down at his gun, and then hurried back to the other end of the bar.

  "What's your business with that flying scrapyard outside?" said Ode.

  "The Adeona? No business. No business at all."

  Ode thumbed back the hammer of his gun.

  "What did I tell you about lying?"

  "I'm not lying, I swear!" Jack felt himself start to sweat again. "I'm not with them – not anymore. I don't even know them really. I was adrift in space and they picked me up, that's all. They let me hitchhike as far as Kapamentis but somehow, in all the chaos and the shooting, I ended up back on their ship. I'm starting to wish I hadn't. Seriously – whatever trouble they're in, I've got nothing to do with it."

  "Then why are you still here?"

  "I don't have a ship." Jack shrugged in as passive a way as possible. "Believe me, I'd be long gone if I did."

  Ode studied him for a few tense seconds and then relaxed his gun.

  "Okay. Keep talking. What have those bolt-buckets got on their ship that's worth so much?"

  Jack's brow furrowed.

  "On the ship? Nothing that I saw. Then again, I wouldn't notice something valuable round here even if it were shoved up my nose."

  "There must be something," said Ode, rubbing his thumb across the runes on his revolver. "Nobody pays ten thousand credits for a bunch of old automata."

  Jack's blood turned cold. Of course. Gaskan Troi had sent the bounty hunter after the rogue automata… but the hired gun didn't know that the real target was the folder of stolen blueprints stashed in Tuner's hard drive.

  He quickly shook his head.

  "Nope, nothing springs to mind. But like I said, I'm not really the best person to ask."

  "Well, it won't take long to find out. Those bots will talk quick enough if they know what's good for them."

  He slipped his gun back into a holster on his hip.

  "Speaking of which… don't try anything stupid. Nobody's after you, and I'd rather not waste the ammo."

  Jack's stomach shrivelled up like a rotten apple.

  "What are you going to do?" he asked, slowly turning around on his stool as the bounty hunter went to leave.

  "Don't you worry about that." Ode's black boots clomped against the dusty floor. "You've got nothing to do with it, remember?"

  "Wait."

  Ode paused. His hand hovered inches from his hip. The Drygg couple, who'd been sitting at their table watching everything unfold in terrified silence, shrank into their chairs.

  "I don't suppose there's any chance you could take me off this rock when you leave, is there?"

  Ode let out a single dry laugh. He reached into a pocket inside his cloak and then flicked a silver coin in Jack's direction. Jack caught it.

  "I'm nobody's chauffeur," he replied. "But here – buy yourself a proper drink."

  With that, the bounty hunter marched out of the bar.

  Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  Jack opened his hand. The coin was old and chipped around the edge. It carried a faint insignia – an official-looking emblem of planets and stars. He didn't know if it was worth one credit or a hundred. Or what the exchange rate was, for that matter.

  He put it down on the counter and stared at it.

  Or rather, he stared through it.

  He felt like throwing up. The automata had no clue what they were up against. They had no defences, no plan, no way out. They couldn't stand up to a strong breeze, let alone an experienced bounty hunter.

  He thought about Rogan and Tuner being delivered into the skeletal hands of that creep Gaskan, and his heart sank. The thought of them being broken down for parts made it plummet further still.

  But there was nothing he could do.

  He continued to stare at the coin.

  There was nothing he could do.

  It wasn't his fight. It wasn't his problem. And he was just a cruddy engineer much too far from home.

  So why did he get the feeling he was about to do something incredibly stupid?

  Ode Vadasz marched down the dirt street, the glare of the sun warming the cloak on his back. The automata still busied themsel
ves around the rear of their ship, more desperate and flustered than ever.

  He shook his head. Idiots.

  Nobody paid him any notice as he climbed the short set of steps up to the landing pad. He pulled one of his revolvers out from its holster, raised it into the air, and fired.

  The resulting boom silenced the whole settlement. All of the automata froze in their tasks. Feathered birds and winged reptiles took flight from the treetop canopies.

  Now he had their attention.

  He tapped at the panel on his forearm. The drone he hid earlier rose up from the secluded alley beside the general store. It drifted over everyone's heads and settled a couple feet above the hull of the Adeona.

  "Thank you for your attention," said Ode, nodding at the stunned robots. "If you'd—"

  The dock administrator with whom 11-P-53 had been having a heated discussion came sprinting around from the front of the ship, a plasma rifle clutched in his hands. Ode spun round and fired a single shot. It hit the Drygg right between the eyes, fracturing its horn. The alien's lifeless body rolled off the landing pad into the dirt below.

  Ode turned back to the automata.

  "Sorry about that," he said in a voice completely devoid of remorse. "As I was saying. I have been commissioned to apprehend the crew of this ship"—he gestured to the Adeona—"and keep you detained until my client gets here. No, I do not know his name. No, I do not know your names. And no, I don't care why this is happening to you. Arrange yourselves into an orderly line."

  The automata remained frozen to the spot.

  Ode sighed and raised his revolver again.

  "How difficult do you want to make this? Now."

  Everybody shuffled forward. There were sixteen or seventeen of them in total, from stocky, retro cuboids, to skinny models like 11-P-53, to little Kansas down at the far end. They waited obediently. There wasn't much else they could do.