At the Helm: A Sci-Fi Bridge Anthology (Volume 1)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  Yes, sir…No, no trouble…seems reliable, but…Kross’s eyes found Ethan’s.

  Ethan smiled and waved, as if oblivious. All right, Brondi…Yes, sir. I’ll ask him. Kross out.

  Brondi? Ethan hoped he’d read that word wrong. Names were tricky to read from a person’s lips. Maybe he’d said something similar. Alec “Big Brainy” Brondi was the last person Ethan wanted to cross paths with. The diminutive crime lord ran the largest criminal organization in Dark Space. Even the patrollers were afraid of him.

  Kross started back up the loading ramp, and Ethan stepped out of the shadows to greet him. “Forget something?” he asked as Kross drew near.

  The man shook his head, and a lock of over-long, straight black hair parted from his forehead to reveal an ugly scar. “I have another job for you. Interested?”

  Ethan pretended to be. “Maybe, what’s the job?”

  “Hoi!” someone called out from the grav sleds, interrupting their conversation.

  Kross turned and Ethan looked past him to see a man standing on top of a stack of crates aboard one of the grav sleds, holding up the cover of the one Ethan had sliced open. Ethan’s breath froze in his chest.

  “What are you doing?” Kross yelled. “Can’t you read? DO NOT OPEN. That’s what it says!”

  “This one was open already!”

  “Frek it,” Ethan muttered. And with that, he lunged toward the director and gave him a mighty shove that sent the man tumbling down the loading ramp.

  The others began boiling from the grav sleds below. Ethan drew his sidearm and snapped off a few shots. One of the bigger men fell, clutching a smoking hole in his armor, and Ethan slapped the door and ramp controls. The cargo bay began sealing with a lethargic groan and grinding of gears. Not waiting to see the director get back up, he ducked and ran as fast as he could for the inner doors of the cargo bay. Ripper rifles started up behind him, and shells began plinking off the outer doors with deafening fury. A few shots made it inside the cargo bay and ricocheted off the bulkheads. Ethan reached the inner bay doors and waved his wrist across the scanner, parting them with a swish.

  Casting a quick look back the way he’d come, he was just in time to see a man dive in through the outer doors. The man fired off a burst from his ripper rifle, and pain tore into Ethan’s right leg. He bit back a scream and hurried through the inner bay doors, locking them behind him.

  To his left he heard another door swish open, and he spun reflexively to see Alara aiming a plasma pistol at his head.

  “It’s me!” he gritted out.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, lowering the weapon. “I heard gunfire.”

  “Yea, we’ve got a house guest, he said, leaning heavily against the wall to take the weight off his injured leg. As if to confirm the fact, Ethan heard another burst of ripper fire from somewhere inside the cargo bay. That was followed by the sound of the outer doors groaning open once more. Ethan winced as a wave of searing pain erupted in his leg. “Maybe a few house guests,” he amended. Shock was starting to wear off.

  “You’re hurt!” Alara rushed forward and kneeled down beside him to check on his injury. Something warm had soaked one leg of his flight suit, and his foot felt like it was floating in his boot. A dizzy wave of nausea washed over him as he contemplated that, and his eyes drifted shut.

  “You’re going to bleed out like this! Hold on!”

  He lazily turned to watch as Alara ran back into his quarters. A moment later she emerged, an off-white sheet from his bed trailing from her hands.

  “Too big,” he managed as she knelt beside him again. He began swaying on his one good leg, and she cursed under her breath as she struggled to wrap one end of the sheet around his leg. She made a knot and pulled the sheet so tight that it brought a smile to his face. Pretty strong for a waif, he thought. She wrapped the extra length of the sheet around his lower leg like an over-sized cast and then tied another knot. “That’ll do. Now what, kiddie?”

  She stood up and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Which way to the cockpit?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to get us out of here.”

  Ethan pointed lazily down the corridor right in front of them, and she began hobbling with him in that direction.

  That was when they heard the hiss and telltale hum of a beam weapon starting up behind them. They both turned to see a glowing point of orange light appear on the inner cargo bay doors.

  “Come on!” she said, now hobbling in earnest. Ethan poured on one last burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, and they struggled through a cramped galley and dining area to the cockpit at the far end of the corridor. Once inside, Alara left him leaning up against the wall while he typed in a lock code for the cockpit, sealing them in. She went straight to the pilot’s chair and sat down.

  He was about to help her with the launch sequence, but by the time he turned around she already had the reactors spinning up. He stumbled to her side and leaned heavily on the pilot’s chair. “You’re going to need both thrusters and grav lifts to blast off.

  “If I fire the thrusters in this clearing we’re going to hit the trees!” Alara said.

  Ethan shook his head and limped over to the copilot’s chair. He fell into it with a groan. “No choice. Grav lifts alone won’t do it.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since we’re already six feet under the mud.”

  “Frek.”

  “You sure you’re up to this?” Ethan drawled, trying to stave off another wave of dizziness.

  She turned to him with a hard stare. “I’m sure that you aren’t. Strap in.”

  “Right.” Ethan fumbled with his seat restraints. Then came the sound of something heavy clanging to the deck. He bet that was the inner cargo doors, freshly sliced out of their frame. “Better hurry,” he said.

  She pushed the grav lifts to a cautious 50% and the Atton rose a foot or so into the air.

  A loud knock came on the door behind them. “Ortane, I know you have the girl. Surrender her now, and we’ll let you go—no hard feelings, just business.”

  “And I suppose you’ll trust me to keep my mouth shut about the slaves?”

  “They’re not chipped. Technically they’re not slaves. They’re just unregistered passengers.”

  “I suppose they stepped into those stasis tubes willingly, then?”

  “This isn’t your affair, Ortane. It doesn’t have to end like this. Our organization could use a reliable pilot like you. The pay’s a lot better than registered trade.”

  “I’m sure it is. I’ll need some time to think it over.”

  “That’s a pity, because you’re fresh out of time. Last chance.”

  “Go frek yourself.”

  With that, there came another hiss and a loud humming noise started up behind them as the cutting beam started to work on the cockpit door.

  “Punch it, kiddie,” Ethan said. She pushed the grav lifts up past the stops, but the Atton still didn’t break free of the mud that had snared it. “Hit the throttle!”

  She slid the main throttle control all the way forward, and suddenly the Atton broke free, leaping toward the trees. Ethan saw the collision course and quickly reached over to pull the yoke back as far as it would go. The Atton turned up toward the sky, and a split second later they heard a roar that wasn’t from the engines as tree tops splintered on the underside of their hull. The Atton bucked and twisted, and then they were free.

  Muffled screams sounded behind them as the men who’d broken into the ship went tumbling back the way they’d come. Ethan blinked at the gravidar display, watching a few small objects fall out the back of the Atton. He gave a grim smile. Guess they left the doors open. “Nice work,” he managed. “I think you shook the parasites free.”

  Another loud knock on the door behind them contradicted Ethan’s words. “Ortane!” a familiar voice bellowed. It was Kross. “Get me back on the ground and I’ll double your fee!”

  “I’m not fond of blood
money, Kross. What were you going to do with those girls, anyway?”

  “We weren’t going to hurt them! They’d all be fed and clothed and housed for free. All they had to do is tend to a few plants.”

  “Stims?”

  “Yes! Frek it, Ortane! I’m losing my grip! Open the door!”

  Ethan tried to imagine the director dangling by his finger nails high above the ground, hanging on to some part of the ship’s galley. He turned to Alara with eyebrows raised. “You believe his story?”

  “Even if I did, no one asked us if we wanted to be stim growers.”

  Ethan nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He nodded out the forward viewport. “It’s up to you. All you have to do is keep flying. He’ll lose his grip eventually.”

  “You’ll never get away with this!” Kross screamed.

  Ethan saw Alara’s jaw clench and her eyes narrow. He noticed one of her hands let go of the flight yoke to push the throttle past the stops into overdrive. The roaring of the ship’s engines intensified and the Atton gave a sudden leap forward. There came a muffled scream as the director fell, followed by a distant thud as he clipped something on his way out. Alara gave a deep sigh, and then pulled the throttle back and pushed the yoke away from herself for a less vertical trajectory.

  Ethan nodded. “He was scum. We’ve got enough scum in Dark Space.”

  “Yes, we do, but scum’s all we have left.”

  Ethan shook his head. “You just let him fall to his death. It’s too late for regrets now.”

  “I closed the outer doors first.”

  Ethan smirked. “You’re a better person than I am.”

  “Maybe, but I still wish he was dead. I don’t think that makes me a good person.”

  Ethan laid a hand over hers and squeezed. She turned to look at him with wild violet eyes. Once again he found himself startled by her beauty. The image of her naked body was still fresh in his mind. Snap out of it, Ethan.

  “What about the other girls?” she asked. “We can’t leave them all down there.”

  Ethan grimaced. “If I’m not wrong about who the director is working for, we’re about to have a squadron of junkers come roaring after us. The best we can do now is get away so that we can alert the authorities. You’d better let me take just in case we run into trouble before we can jump to SLS.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I’m feeling better. Quick thinking with the sheet,” he said, nodding to his leg. “You probably saved my life.”

  “You saved mine,” she replied.

  “Well, we saved each other then.”

  Alara nodded and unclipped her flight restraints. “Hold on,” he said, reaching over to the pilot’s control station to increase power to the inertial management system (IMS). The heavy hand of acceleration pressing them against their chairs eased, and they were able to trade places without tumbling toward the aft of the ship the way Kross had.

  Once seated at the pilot’s station, Ethan glanced at the gravidar display between their two seats. “No suspicious-looking contacts yet,” he said.

  Yellow-orange clouds faded to a dark mauve sky pricked full of stars. Moments later the color faded to black, and Ethan guided them toward the local system space gate, marked on the HUD with a simple green diamond.

  “Where are we going?”

  “That depends—where did you get abducted from?”

  “Home.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Forliss.”

  “All right, Forliss it is. I’ll take you home and speak to the authorities there.”

  “Wait.” Ethan turned to regard her. Alara was biting her lower lip, apparently warring with herself over something. “What if you take me with you instead?”

  “I don’t have a home, kiddie, and besides, what are you—sixteen? Your parents must be worried.”

  “I’m nineteen, thanks, and I don’t live at home. I have my own place, close by.”

  “Well, same difference. Your parents will be worried when they go knocking on your door and you don’t answer.”

  “I’ll send a message.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Why follow me around? You don’t even know you can trust me. What if I sell you to the nearest pleasure palace to pay my bills?”

  “You risked your life to save mine. Why would you do that if you only cared about yourself?”

  “I suppose you’ve got me there.”

  “Besides, it’ll be fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Flying between the stars, being your own boss, every day seeing something new and exciting!”

  Ethan snorted and shook his head. “You must have been reading the brochures from the Freelancers’ Guild. It ain’t like that, kiddie.”

  Alara turned to him with a broad smile. He met that smile with a frown. “Well, you’ve got plenty of time to teach me what it is like.”

  “I haven’t said yes yet.”

  She leaned toward him and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. “No, but you will. I’m irresistible. Give me a week, and you’ll be begging for me to stay.”

  “Two days.”

  “A week.”

  “Three days.”

  “Seven.”

  Ethan let out a short bark of laughter and smiled in spite of himself. “All right, deal. At least you’re already good at bargaining.”

  She leaned over and whispered through a smile, “That’s not the only thing I’m good at....”

  He turned to her with a suspicious look. “If you’re looking for that kind of fun, you’re aiming at the wrong target, girlie. Not only are you young enough to be my daughter, but I’m married.” He held up his left hand and wiggled his ring finger at her.

  She frowned. “What’s a married man doing freelancing? Shouldn’t you be at home with your wife and kids?”

  Ethan’s brow dropped a shadow over his green eyes, and he looked away. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Fine. Then that’s what we’ll stick to. Business.”

  Ethan shot her a skeptical glance, and he noticed that the smile was back on her face, her violet eyes sparkling as she gazed out at space.

  Kids, he thought, shaking his head.

  A siren sounded from the ship’s threat detection system, interrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention to the gravidar display.

  “Frek! I knew it! We’ve got company.”

  “Where?” Alara asked, her eyes flicking over the display.

  He pointed to a handful of red dots streaking up from the planet toward them. “There. Four junkers.”

  The comm board beeped with an incoming message.

  Alara eyed the blinking light. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  “You can if you want. See if you can beguile them with your wit while I get us out of here.”

  “Sure.” She stabbed the transmit button, and a gruff voice crackled through the cockpit speakers.

  “This is Lieutenant Taron of Ghost Squadron. Reverse thrust and lower your shields for boarding. You are under arrest.”

  “Hello there, fly boy,” Alara purred. “You have a handsome voice. Maybe you should lower your shields so I can board you.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Captain Alara.”

  “Well, Captain Alara, this isn’t a negotiation. Lower your shields and prepare for boarding, or we’ll do it for you.”

  “Sorry what was that? Your signal is…krrrsss…breaking kkksss…up. Bye for now, fly boy.” Alara turned to him. “Wit didn’t work. Do you have any other weapons?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Yea, you can go aft and man one of the turrets. Take the ladder to the top one. I’ll activate it for you.”

  “Roger that, Captain Ortane,” Alara said, saluting him as she unbuckled and rose from the copilot’s chair.

  “It’s just Ethan,” he replied.

  “You can call me Captain Alara then. Someone has to be in charge around here.”

  Ethan snorted. “I
’ll stick with Kiddie. Now get moving. And while you’re at it—” He reached for his sidearm and handed it to her. “—go find Kross. Set it to maximum stun and shoot him. We don’t want him waking up any time soon.”

  She dropped another kiss on his cheek and fetched up against the cockpit door a moment later. “It’s locked,” she said.

  “Not anymore,” he replied as he unlocked it from his control station.

  “See you soon!”

  Ethan turned from the controls to watch her go, thinking that her youthful exuberance was going to get tiring fast. Either that, or it would make him feel younger than his 42 years.

  He turned back to his control station to eye the approaching enemy contacts. They weren’t particularly fast. Perhaps only marginally faster than the Atton. Noticing how slowly the range between them was closing, he relaxed. They’d make it to the gate. Then he just had to alert the proper authorities so they could rescue the slaves he’d unwittingly delivered before Brondi could make them disappear.

  Ethan nodded slowly to himself. After that... His stomach growled, interrupting his thoughts. After that we go get some grub.

  We. The word echoed strangely inside Ethan’s head. He wasn’t used to being a we. He had a feeling his life was about to change, but whether that change would be for better or worse, only time would tell.

  It can’t get much worse, he mused, thinking on the bright side.

  The incoming message light reappeared on his comm board, but he ignored it. A moment later he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Alara. “I stunned the krak out of him.”

  Ethan snorted. “He still alive?”

  “He’s breathing.”

  “Good enough.”

  “Which way to the turrets?”

  “Don’t bother. We’re almost away.” Ethan nodded to the space gate swelling beyond the forward viewports. It was a bright, whirling blue portal of energy, a wormhole that would catapult them across space at superluminal speeds.