Everything devolved into chaos as the woman and her companions used the distraction to duck sideways and open fire on their unexpected ambushers. Rick shoved the cart forward as fast as he could, determined to get out of the line of fire.
In this suddenly target rich environment, he still found himself the subject of interest for one of the shooters. A slug ricocheted off the armor underneath his shirt, sending him staggering forward into the cart handle. Another couple of shots struck the cart itself.
“To the shuttle!” Hawke shouted as she fired at the person on top of the cargo containers. “Withdraw! Withdraw! Withdraw!”
Rick lost track of the main enemy and her minions, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t his job to fight. He was more than happy to leave combat to the professionals.
All those cargo handlers who had suddenly produced weapons must have been Hawke’s people. He’d never even considered the possibility that she’d placed extra people around them. That’s why she was an expert in combat and tactics, and he wasn’t.
The fact that they were escaping didn’t mean they were out of danger. He could hear shouts and shots behind them, and Hawke was busy receiving information through an earbud and giving commands controlling the retreat.
There were a number of sirens sounding in just about every direction, so Rick knew security forces would be on the scene quickly, but that didn’t mean they were clear yet. They had to get aboard Chappa’s shuttle and get off the ground.
Almost inevitably, another obstacle appeared just as they were about to reach safety. Three Human women stood just short of the shuttle, whose ramp was now down, their hands on their hips and their eyes aflame with righteous indignation as they spotted the pilot.
The one in the center was Arlene from the bar. If Rick was right, the other two would be Julie and Ellen. They looked like they were there to rain holy hell down on the man who had wronged them.
Just perfect.
While Rick was all in favor of the man getting his just desserts, they needed to get clear before the bad guys caught up with them. Or the cops, for that matter.
“Everybody into the shuttle,” Hawke snapped. “We don’t have time to sort this out. Chappa, as soon as we get the ramp up, you take off. I’ll deal with any repercussions. Tell control this is emergency takeoff plan Zulu, and it’s already been filed.”
The pilot looked uncertain at that and seemed afraid to approach the angry women, but a couple of the Marines interposed themselves and forestalled any immediate fireworks. Chappa bolted past them and into the shuttle.
“Ladies, you’re going to have to catch up with him later,” Hawke said firmly. “The situation is far too dangerous for you to be here.”
At that moment, the woman who had tried to ambush them shouted something as she came around the corner behind them, her minions in hot pursuit.
Rick saw her and pushed the cart forward. Time to get the hell out of here.
As he ran, bullets ricocheted off the shuttle, and the Marines knelt, returning fire. The three women wisely ran for the nearest cover. Unfortunately, that meant they raced into the shuttle right behind him.
As soon as he was out of the direct line of fire, Rick started strapping the container and cart into place. If they were going to take off quickly, he didn’t want any of this coming loose. That could prove fatal.
The Marines with them backed into the shuttle and closed the hatch even as the ramp began rising. Some of them were injured, but it didn’t look like they had any life-threatening hits to worry about.
Hawke spent two seconds staring at the three women before she shook her head and gestured for her men to secure them as she did the same for herself. “We’re going to have to take them with us. We’ve run out of time.”
“We’re not going to be able to get off this planet,” Rick said as he strapped himself in beside her. “Security is going to be sending people after us, and control is going to deny us permission to take off.”
“Wrong. Money talks in the Union, and I paid a lot of it to the right people so they’d give us permission to take off no matter what happened. The security forces are aware we’re transporting valuable cargo, and we were concerned we might be attacked. Our reputation is good here. They’ll let us take off.”
True to her words, the shuttle lifted off a few seconds later, pressing them sideways with the force of its acceleration.
Within a few seconds, Rick started to relax. Unless the enemy was going to use missiles, they were safe from being brought down at this point.
“Were those people in the port yours?” he asked as he tried to calm his racing heart.
“Local hires and port security,” she said with a shake of her head. “That’s why I know security isn’t going to be coming after us. They have plenty of witnesses of their own who’ll tell them who started things.
“I’d say we’re safe for the moment, but I’m not sure they don’t have the ship in orbit or at the stargate. Until we’re in hyperspace, I’m not going to relax.”
He considered her for a few seconds. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me about all this?”
She smiled slightly. “Never lay all your cards out for everyone to see. It’s the ace you have up your sleeve that’s going to win the game.”
“So you cheat.”
“When it comes to fighting?” she asked with a laugh. “Early and often.”
He joined her with a chuckle of his own.
After a few seconds, she continued, “Chappa’s a good pilot. He’ll have us docked with Hermes soon enough. Once we’re aboard, we’ll strike out for the stargate. I seriously doubt they’re going to try anything in open space, because the system defense forces here won’t take very kindly to that.”
Rick let his eyes roam over to the three women they’d inadvertently picked up. “What are we doing with them? We can’t take them with us. Or we shouldn’t. I suppose we could if we have to.”
Hawke’s smile grew wicked. “It would be inappropriate for us to remove any of these upstanding citizens from this system. So, being the kind soul I am, I’ll order Chappa to stay in orbit until everything gets sorted out and then take them back down to the port. I figure that should take at least six hours. Just to be safe, you understand.”
Rick laughed. “You’re a cruel woman. You know he’s just going to keep himself locked on the flight deck, right?”
She turned to the Marine on her other side. It was the big man she’d spoken to when Rick had arrived at the shuttle earlier.
“Ray, before we disembark on Hermes, I want you to have Collins plug into the systems on this shuttle and disable the operation of the door leading to the flight deck. I don’t want any locks able to work and no way for Chappa to be able to secure himself inside.”
“There’s always the manual lock,” the man said. “Can’t override that.”
“You’re resourceful. Figure something out. If you damage anything, we’ll pay him a little extra as a bonus. I don’t want him to have the opportunity to escape the karma he’s so richly earned.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.”
With that, Hawke turned her attention back to Rick. “There. Problem solved.”
“That’s only one set of problems,” Rick countered. “Now you’ve got a new set of challenges to overcome.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “What have I missed?”
“Now you’re going to have to figure out whether you’re teasing me or not. As soon as we get into hyperspace, I think we should have dinner and discuss our…situation.”
Her smile widened. “Are you having a situation, Rick Betancourt? Oh, my. Well, lucky for you, I’m a problem solver.”
She leaned toward him, her eyes looking deeply into his. “And just to make things crystal clear, I’m looking forward to the next hundred and seventy hours in hyperspace. I’m sure the two of us can come up with something to…fill the time.”
Yep, that was pretty clear.
�
�It’s a good thing I stocked up on some of the higher end foodstuffs,” he admitted with a smile. “If I have my way, we might not be coming out of my cabin anytime soon.”
“I like the way your mind works,” she said in a low, sultry voice. “I think we’ll be working to become very good friends over the next week.”
With that, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, that promising smile still on her lips.
Rick tried to relax, but his mind was abuzz with the adrenaline from the fight and thoughts of the delights lying ahead. This was absolutely not what he’d planned for today, but now that it was happening, he found himself content with where things were going.
His final thought on the matter was about Chappa. He had no idea what the future held for the man, but if the fiery women who’d confronted him were good examples of the kind of women he liked to date, he was going to be in for an extremely long trip back down to the surface.
Rick suspected the pilot would beg them to take him with them, but it wasn’t his place to save the man from the consequences of his own behavior.
In fact, he might just be able to make it worse for Chappa.
He smiled a cold grin. As soon as they arrived at Hermes, they’d break orbit and head for the stargate. That would give everyone a chance to clean up and calm down.
Chappa would think he was going to get away without having to face the women, right up until the moment Rick asked Hawke to have her Marines escort the pilot and his passengers back to his shuttle.
If Rick waited for the right time, they’d be half a day clear of everything in the system. A long trip for Chappa, but a rewarding one for the women. It was cruel, but sometimes justice had to have a sharp edge for someone to learn a lesson.
Would this change how the man behaved? Probably not, but that wasn’t Rick’s problem.
The benefit to him was that not only was justice served, but Hawke would think it was hilarious. It would also put her in an excellent mood to set off a week of getting to know one another in private.
Yes, he’d be bushwhacking the pilot, but it was for a good cause. A great cause.
With those amusing and pleasant thoughts on his mind, he settled back to think about what Hawke and he might be doing over the next week. This was going to be a fine trip, indeed.
* * * * *
Terry Mixon Bio
#1 Bestselling Military Science Fiction author Terry Mixon served as a non-commissioned officer in the United States Army 101st Airborne Division. He later worked alongside the flight controllers in the Mission Control Center at the NASA Johnson Space Center supporting the Space Shuttle, the International Space Station, and other human spaceflight projects.
He now writes full time while living in Texas with his lovely wife and a pounce of cats.
* * * * *
The Mushroom Farm by Casey Moores
His passion for stargazing originated from his days as a Boy Scout on Earth. In far simpler times, he’d laid in open fields, on top of ridges, the back of his truck, or even on his roof. His company included friends, family, and even, as he’d gotten older, more than his fair share of pretty girls. The surrounding terrain differed greatly from the cool, crisp mountain air of his hometown. It lacked trees entirely, but wasn’t as “alien” as one might have imagined. It reminded him of a childhood trip to the southwest.
All the light brush and the hot, dry air resembled Death Valley. Then, as now, he’d laid his bedroll outside in the open and gazed up at the endless points of light. None of the constellations he’d memorized existed here, but it didn’t bother him. He made a game of creating new constellations, a chance to utilize the artist inside him. In the weeks he’d been on planet, he’d created quite a few. He found those each night, and then attempted to find more. One night he envisioned a great space battle with Super Star Destroyers, X-wing fighters, and even a Deathstar. The next he found Cerberus, the Hydra, Medusa, and all the great monsters of Greek mythology. That particular night, he’d unsuccessfully tried the old 21st century Pokémon. Instead, he discovered gorgeous mermaids, a Kraken, a giant shark, and the like.
He slept in shifts by day, and usually stayed up all night. Peaceful and relaxing, just how he liked it. As he squeezed peanut butter paste out of a tube onto a crumbly, dry cracker, he smiled. It was, for now, the retirement he’d dreamed of.
Semi-retirement, he reflected, as the sensor suite beeped inside his shell. The “shell,” as he called it, was his personal design. The large camouflaged disc, constructed with composite material, blocked both his heat signature and electronic emissions. A harness inside allowed him to comfortably hang face down, yet stretched out so the disc lay flat and unobtrusive against the flat plains. A series of eight robotic arms allowed him to crawl slowly through any terrain the long, oval shield could fit through. The series of sensors poked out all along the sides and fed into two slates that hung right in front of his face. He stuffed the cracker into his mouth, rolled over through the netting shroud, and crawled under his shell. Glancing at the slate, he sighed and launched a micro-drone toward the source of the seismic anomaly.
It had been a hard sell to Colonel Coultrup, the commander of The Regulators, to employ a live scout, but he felt poised to prove his value. Electronic sensors either saw something, or they didn’t. They could process a great number of possibilities, but in the end, they reported based on their programming. Anyone familiar with those constraints could fool them. They had no instinct.
He adjusted his earpiece and tapped on the slate to select a secure HF channel. He’d found archaic means of communication, while incredibly scratchy, were seldom noticed.
“Actual, Umbra.” While awaiting a response, he rolled up and secured his bedroll. Then he stretched his legs and arms into his harness. The shell became an extension of him.
“Umbra,
“Heavy roller headed your way. Should hit your sensors in about thirty-two mikes, but they’ll probably process it as a supply barge. It’s not. I’m sending imagery of KzSha on board. Suggest full alert. Will continue to monitor. How copy?”
“
“Good copy, Umbra out.”
Heavy paranoia remained in his mind. The straightforward attack vexed him. Even without him, sensors would have flagged it with plenty of warning. Similarly, the watch CASPers alone would’ve noticed far enough out to get everyone suited and on the line before it approached weapons range. Was it a diversion? Was there an orbital attack as well, or a hidden ace somewhere he couldn’t see, some big weapon? No obvious answer presented itself, so he crawled toward the mine and flipped through his sensor array and data feeds in search of a clue. With a couple swipes on the slate, he deployed his other two micro-drones toward the left and right aft quadrants from this current attack, looking for flankers. As they flew, he checked on the unit.
The feeds showed the Regulators already deployed around the mine, so the old scout turned his attention back to the KzSha. Canceling the auto track and retaking control of the first tiny drone, he zoomed in for another look as the barge rolled forward. It hit the sensor line and, either as planned or in response to the Regulators’ deployment, the KzSha flew out from the large hauler. The first few rose up and fired off missiles, at very long range, and grabbed laser rifles to join the rest. Only about half deployed; the rest, oddly, stayed inside.
The swarm sporadically fired lasers at near their maximum range, as if attempting to goad the defenders into wasting their own ammunition. Coultrup wisely held their fire to make every round count, even as some of the laser fire scored a few lucky hits. Umbra focused on the reserve group, still sitting idly in their hauler. Only a few rifles remained in the group. Most of the undeployed wasp troops carried melee weapons. Stun sticks, large crowbars, and a good number of what he knew from medieval history as man-cat
chers, long poles with open pincers at the end. Did they plan to enslave the Human mercs? He dismissed the idea. Considering their lack of firepower and numbers, it simply didn’t add up.
“Actual, Umbra. A large reserve is undeployed, heavily armed for melee. I think they mean to close quickly. Remain cautious, there’s some trick we’re missing.”
“Copy, Umbra, you know what to do.” Figure it the heck out, Umbra translated. A series of explosions marked Coultrup’s order to fire. Missiles arced out and exploded across the wide swarm of giant wasps who flew to meet them. Umbra watched from a distance on one of his slates, as if watching a movie. His little robot spider did all it could to get him closer to the unit, but he knew it would all be over, one way or the other, before he made it. His rifle would make little difference anyway. His contribution was the intel. Drones two and three were reaching max range and hadn’t found anything. There was no flanking force, no “Ch’i,” as Sun Tzu would have said. The deception lay elsewhere.
Up and down the CASPer line, MACs opened fire…and then almost immediately ceased. The missile fire stopped as well. He swiped on his slate to bring up Coultrup’s view of the CASPer’s vitals (a view Coultrup didn’t realize he’d hacked into.) The CASPers were shutting down. Few still fired laser rifles into the approaching swarm. He heard Coultrup give an order to cease fire with main weapons. A third of the unit was still powered, but armed only with laser rifles and blades, they were too few to stop the swarm. The KzSha spread out wide and concentrated fire on the powered CASPers. The Regulators tossed a few K bombs toward the large, armored hornets, which were only minimally effective, as the enemy spread out.
“Umbra…Actual.” The colonel’s tone said everything.
“Go ahead, sir.”
“I guess we know the trick, now don’t we? Look…this won’t last much longer, so record everything you can. Get out of here and get it to the first Horseman who’ll listen. I imagine they’re pulling this on other Human mercs. I’m sure you still have some contacts. Good luck, Umbra, I’m glad I hired you.”
The Gates of Hell Page 24
