Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two

by Williams, Christopher

  Kyle pointed to where three robots stood. “There are three general ship bots, but only two of them are working.” The three bots resembled humans from the waist up, but their humanoid upper body rested on a wide, continuous track system. He shrugged. “Not sure what’s wrong with the other one, but I may be able to repair it.”

  Aaron nodded again but remained silent. This place was turning into a goldmine. He might have to give Eve that full share sooner than he wanted to.

  “We have five cargo bots. Only three of them are working, but I hope to get the others running.” He paused, but Aaron didn’t reply. “There’s also a M71 medical bot.”

  “Excellent,” Aaron said. “There’re all old, but we’re getting them at an excellent price.”

  Kyle smiled. “There’s also a bunch of parts I want to take. It might make it easier to get the others running.”

  “Certainly,” Aaron replied. “Get them on the next cargo run.”

  Kyle smiled, apparently pleased that he was getting to keep his newfound toys.

  “Aaron,” Susan called out. “Got a moment?”

  “Sure,” Aaron replied. “What you got?” He moved away from Kyle and hurried over to where Susan was waiting for him.

  “Good news,” she said. “Got three spacesuits. The seal certs are expired, but we can get them recertified at the next stop.”

  “Damn” was Aaron’s only response.

  Susan smiled. “You hate it that Eve has found this treasure trove. Don’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Susan didn’t answer but waved over to where Eve was standing. “She just uncovered some exo-suits as well.”

  Exo-suits rather resembled metallic spacesuits, but were used for lifting and moving cargo. They were about eight feet tall, and a human could climb into the suit. The mechanical suit augmented the human’s strength and could be used to life items that weighed up to a ton. They would definitely make moving cargo easier.

  Aaron just shook his head. He glanced up and caught Eve grinning at him.

  They spent almost the whole night cleaning out the outfitter shop. They dumped the items in semi-organized piles in the cargo hold. It was a mess, but they had an eight-day trip back to Pocal III, and they could get things sorted while underway.

  The sides of the hold had tall racks that went all the way to the ceiling. There was a large space under the racks where they secured the transports.

  There was still a good deal of heavy objects that might shift if they were forced to make any sudden turns, so even though they were dead tired, they got busy trying to secure any potentially dangerous items to the floor.

  Aaron looked up from a box of Kyle’s computer parts and noticed that Molly and Eve were seriously dragging. “Hey, Eve,” he called out, causing Eve turned her bleary eyes toward him. “Why don’t you and Molly get some breakfast ready. Go ahead and make some more sandwiches as well. It’ll be well after lunch before we can get some sleep.

  Eve nodded, and she and Molly quickly disappeared through the hatch.

  The sun had been up for less than half an hour when Uri-alo arrived. Seven other Isheks were with him. They were smaller, appearing to be quite young. They climbed up the cargo bay ramp and Uri-alo blinked around in surprise.

  “Where are the rest?” Aaron asked.

  Uri-alo pulled his eyes from the piled-high floor. “They will be here shortly. Would’ve drawn too much attention if we arrived in one big group.”

  Aaron nodded. Should have thought of that myself. Must be more tired than I thought.

  “How will you hide all this in the next couple of hours?” Uri-alo asked, looking back to the cargo bay floor.

  Aaron tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Why would we hide it?”

  “Because the customs inspectors will surely question such a large load of merchandise. Without proper documentation, they will hold the ship while they investigate.”

  A surge of apprehension ran through Aaron’s gut. “What customs inspectors? We cleared customs when we landed.”

  “Yes,” Uri-alo agreed, “but there will be another inspection before the ship is allowed to leave.”

  Chapter 5

  Aaron just stared at the Ishek, his mind frantically trying to find a way out of this mess. Finally, he shook his head and looked around. Russell was standing nearby, listening to the exchange. Aaron pointed to Uri-alo and called out, “Get him settled and see to the rest of his family.

  Aaron sprinted up the cavernous cargo hold, dodging around piles of clothing and machinery. He slid to a stop beside the collection of robots. Kyle Grayson was there, happily fiddling with his new toys, and it was his help that Aaron needed.

  “I need you,” he called out in a breathless rush. “Quit screwing with those robots and come on.”

  Kyle looked surprised, but he seemed to hear the anxiety in Aaron’s tone and he quickly hopped up. “What do you need?”

  “Our passenger says customs will do another inspection before we are allowed to leave.” Kyle’s eyes widened, and Aaron rushed on. “I need you to slice into their computers. I need to know if he’s right and when to expect the inspector. Can you do that?”

  “Course,” Kyle answered. He didn’t even wait to see if there was anything else before he sprinted off toward the interior of the ship.

  Aaron paused only long enough to grab Susan, and then the two of them followed Kyle to engineering. The engineering section was actually in the main smuggling compartment, which was disguised as the original, oversized engines.

  “I’m in,” Kyle called out as they ran up.

  “What? Already?” Aaron asked, surprised.

  “Please,” Kyle replied with a snort. “Their systems are so old and they don’t even bother updating them.”

  “Well?” Susan asked, watching Kyle’s screen intently. “Is the Ishek right?”

  “Oh yeah,” Kyle said. His eyes never left the screen. “We’re supposed to take off in five hours, and they have an agent scheduled to inspect us in just under four.”

  Susan glanced at Aaron. “That’s not enough time to clear the cargo hold—not even close.”

  Aaron nodded at Susan, but he addressed his question to Kyle. “Can you change that? Can you mark the ship as having passed inspection?”

  “I can,” Kyle said slowly, “but I don’t think it’ll help.”

  “Why not?”

  “An agent has already been assigned. Someone will notice if you change the schedule,” Kyle replied.

  Only one other idea occurred to Aaron and he spoke it aloud. “Then we’ll have to kill the agent and you mark the ship as clear.”

  Kyle shook his head. “Won’t work either.”

  “Why?” Aaron demanded. He hoped Kyle wasn’t squeamish about killing.

  “That agent has an outbound ship inspection every half hour. If we kill him, the next ship will be calling for him before we even hit space.”

  Aaron took a deep breath and cast around for any idea, any stroke of inspiration. There had to be some way out of this. He cursed himself for not being more careful; he should’ve checked the spaceport regulations thoroughly.

  Kyle was still busy typing on his keyboard. The click, click, click of his typing was constant, unfaltering, and then there was a pause. “Huh,” he said, nearly under his breath.

  “What?” Aaron demanded.

  Kyle chose to answer the question with a question. “What landing bay are we in?”

  “Seventy-one,” Aaron answered. “Why?”

  “Because,” Kyle said, pointing at his screen, “the Berkheimer in bay seventy-three is due to take off in three hours.” He leaned back from the screen and looked up at Aaron. “And she’s already cleared her customs inspection.”

  Aaron looked to Susan. “What do you think?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No way we reach the Hasan point before they realize what’s going on.”

  The Hasan point was the variable point where a s
tar’s gravitational influence had fallen off enough that a starship could create a wormhole. The wormhole was what made interstellar travel possible.

  Aaron knew Susan was correct. The authorities on Bathia would know something was going on, but with any luck, they wouldn’t know it until it was too late to catch them.

  Aaron made the decision. “Get the ship ready for takeoff,” he said in Susan’s direction. He then glanced down at Kyle. “Route that ship’s name, ID number, and the name of the captain to the bridge.”

  It took nearly half an hour for the rest of Uri-alo’s family to arrive. It was good for them that they didn’t lollygag, as Aaron was beginning to give serious thought to leaving them; getting most of the family out alive was better than them all dying. Aaron was immensely relieved when the last one stumbled onto the ship.

  Aaron closed the hatch and left Russell to get the Isheks locked into the passenger quarters; he didn’t want the Isheks wandering around during takeoff.

  Sprinting, Aaron ran the length of the ship and climbed onto the bridge.

  The bridge of the Long Shot was at the very top of the ship and allowed both forward and aft views through the thick, transparent portals. The captain’s chair was in the middle, the pilot’s chair was in the front, and the other stations were arrayed around the outside of the circular bridge.

  Adam was already sitting in the pilot’s seat, ready to go. Susan sat at the communications and sensor station, and she looked nervous. Kyle sat at the engineering station; it was unusual for him to be on the bridge, but Aaron wanted him close. The weapons station was empty and would remain so until Russell finished with the Isheks.

  Aaron shot a look at Susan. “Everything ready?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered quickly.

  He nodded and said, “Patch me through to Port Control then.” His stomach was doing flip-flops, but they were past the point of no return. The plan was simple: Call Port Control and give the other ship’s name, then request an early departure. It wasn’t an unusual request for a merchant ship. He just hoped the real Berkheimer didn’t make the same request. Port Control would track their departure, but as the Berkheimer was in bay seventy-three, Port Control wouldn’t know the wrong ship had taken off until the real Berkheimer requested departure approval in several hours.

  Susan pushed several buttons. It seemed like everyone on the bridge was holding their breath. She looked up and pointed at Aaron.

  He glanced at the small computer screen beside the captain’s chair. “Port Control, this is Captain Jordan Hayes of the Berkheimer in bay seventy-three. We’re locked up and ready to go. Requesting permission for an early departure.”

  The only response for a long moment was static, then a male voice said, “Acknowledged Berkheimer. Permission granted.”

  Aaron exhaled deeply, just then realizing that he had been holding his breath. He glanced to Susan and swiped his finger across his throat. She punched a button and the transmission cut off.

  “Adam,” Aaron said quickly, “get us out of here.”

  Adam’s hands flew over the controls and there was a slight jarring as the ship left the ground headed for space.

  “Slow and steady,” Aaron said. “We’re supposed to be an old, slow merchant ship.”

  “Yes, sir,” Adam said. He adjusted the controls and they slowed down a tad.

  Aaron swiveled his chair in Susan’s direction. “Best guess on when we reach the Hasan point?”

  Her hands were already typing on the keyboard, and then she set back in her chair and exhaled. “Around four hours.”

  “Damn,” Aaron said. “Port Control will know something’s up in about two.”

  It was a long and tedious couple of hours as the Long Shot left the planet’s atmosphere and began pushing for the outer confines of the solar system. They maintained the slow pace that was expected of them, even though they were all itching to go full throttle. After getting the Isheks settled, Russell had joined them on the bridge; he now sat at the weapons console.

  “Uh-oh,” Kyle said, breaking the silence.

  Aaron’s stomach felt like it was dropping through the deck. “What is it?” he demanded.

  Kyle looked up from his keyboard. “I’m still in the spaceport’s systems, and they just ran a check to see who is supposed to be in bay seventy-one.”

  Adam turned to look at Aaron. His unspoken question was obvious: Full throttle?

  Before Aaron could even answer, Susan said, “Incoming transmission.”

  “On speaker,” Aaron replied.

  Susan hit a button and a voice erupted from the speaker.

  “Captain Tillson, you are ordered to immediately return to port or you will face dire consequences. I repeat, Captain Tillson . . .”

  Aaron waved his hand, and Susan pressed the button again. The spaceport’s transmission promptly cut off.

  “Full speed?” Adam asked.

  Aaron was once again prevented from answering as Susan spoke up again.

  “I got a ship on an intercept course,” she said.

  Aaron stood and moved closer. He looked over Susan’s shoulder at the computer screen. The computer had identified the interceptor as an old Jayden destroyer. It was hopelessly outdated, but it was probably the best Bathia could afford.

  “It’s moving fast,” Susan said, glancing up at Aaron. She looked past him at Adam. “Full speed,” she ordered.

  “Belay that,” Aaron called out. Susan and Adam both stared at him questioningly. He glanced across the bridge to where Russell sat patiently. “Are you tracking it?”

  “Yes,” Russell called out. “It’s on an intercept course, thirty degrees below us, gaining fast.”

  “Yes, it is,” Aaron agreed, “too fast. That ship shouldn’t be able to move at that speed unless they’re running without shields.”

  Susan turned back to her console, her hands flying over the buttons. “Confirmed. Target is running without shields.”

  “That’s crazy,” Russell said. “Why would they take such a stupid risk?”

  “Because they think we’re just a slow, old freighter,” Aaron said after a moment. He glanced to Adam. “Maintain course and speed.”

  Adam swallowed hard and nodded his head.

  Aaron turned his attention back to Russell. “Release a spread of mines,” he said softly.

  “Passive or active?” Russell asked.

  The Long Shot had been drastically upgraded by Kyle’s father, Charles Morgan. The weapon systems were beyond what any freighter should have installed. In this case, special tubes had been added between the engine exhausts that allowed mines to be dropped out the rear of the ship.

  Active mines sought out something in particular, be it a heat source, magnetic metal, or radio waves. The mines then maneuvered close to the object and exploded.

  Passive mines were dumb objects that simply floated in space. If something collided with the mine, then there was one hell of an explosion. Passive mines were harder to detect than active mines, but passive mines required a bit of luck, as there was no maneuvering them once they were released.

  “Just release passive mines,” Aaron answered Russell. “Narrow spread—try to get them in the path of that ship.”

  Russell bent over his console and went to work.

  Aaron turned to Susan and quietly asked, “How long till that destroyer can open fire on us?”

  “Seventeen minutes,” she said, having already requested the info from the computer.

  “And how long until the Hasan point?” Aaron asked.

  “One hour twelve minutes,” she answered without hesitation.

  “Mines away,” Russell called out.

  Susan touched several buttons and a screen lit up with a magnified view of the destroyer. It was small, but growing fast.

  “Raise shields,” he said, nodding to Russell. Unlike the destroyer, the Long Shot had power to spare; they could run full speed and have their shielding in place.

  Aaron c
rossed over and sat down in the captain’s chair. Of all the things that he could be doing at that moment, the last thing on his list was to sit there patiently. But there was little else he could do; he had to put on a brave face for the crew. He didn’t watch the clock or keep a count in his head, so he was a bit surprised when Russell called out.

  “Impact! Two maybe three mines have struck the destroyer.”

  Aaron’s eyes flew to the screen. A horrible scene was playing out behind them. Russell had apparently done a good job with the mines. The destroyer had run up on them without detecting them. The first mine had struck in the bow of the ship and ripped it open. The second, and possibly third mine, had struck the ship’s middle and the devastation was unbelievable. The ship had been nearly torn in two.

  “Full speed,” Aaron called out.

  The command seemed to jar Adam back to the here and now. He yanked his gaze from the screen, his hands moving across the controls almost too fast to see, and the Long Shot jumped forward.

  “Are we in the clear?” Aaron asked.

  Susan sighed and shook her head. “Five between us and the Hasan point.”

  “Five more destroyers?” Aaron asked, disbelieving.

  “No. These ships are smaller, perhaps frigates.”

  “And we have to go through all of them?” Aaron asked. This ship was good, but he didn’t think it was that good.

  Susan considered for a moment and then said, “No. The ships are spread out. The quickest way to get past the Hasan point is straight through the middle ship. If we can get past it, then the others should not be able to reach us in time.”

  Aaron nodded. “Feed that course to Adam’s station.” He turned to look at Russell. “Charge the main gun, but hold off raising it until I give the command.”

  Russell was already punching buttons before Aaron even finished speaking.

  Another of the weapon upgrades of the Long Shot was the addition of the main gun off of a C-21 Scout cruiser. The gun was in a concealed compartment along the top of the ship. The compartment doors could be opened, the gun raised, and fired up to three times. After three shots, the gun would have to refrain from firing for two minutes.