by Aaron Frale
_______
A day before Kal found herself in an airlock waiting for Hayden. She found herself waiting for Hayden in a different capacity. Grannork, Seayolar, Maker, Haath-Nlo, and the couple other prisoners who decided to stay after their escape from the Fendpaake Asteroid Mining Prison were all waiting for Hayden. Grannork, an Orcandu with a foul temper like most Orcandus, was the first to vent his misgivings. “I will hoist Hayden by his entrails if he takes any longer.”
“Then you wouldn’t have any more of my delicious SPAM cakes,” Hayden said as he brought a steaming dish of canned meat products arranged as circular patties, stacked in a pyramid shape. He set the tray down in the center of the mess hall table, and everyone took a few patties; Grannork took a mound.
While the SPAM was decent considering they had run out of raw carbon for their replicator a week ago, it was nothing like a fresh banjer from back home. The memory of Kal’s village seemed like it was out of the distant past, even though it was a little less than two years ago. She had almost forgotten what her mother looked like. It didn’t happen overnight. It was subtle. During her months in prison and the year they had spent petty thieving in the stolen vessel of Dr. Feslerk, she thought about her mother less and less. Soon she forgot what it was like when her mother smiled when she sang, and when she laughed. The only image that remained was her mother’s face contorted as she died under the fire of the Teristaque. She cried the morning when she couldn’t remember the sound of her mother’s song.
When they first broke free of the prison, they took inventory of the vessel. There was a lot of scientific equipment and experiments from the mad doctor. Since Haath-Nlo, her crippled insectoid cellmate from prison had interspecies medical training. He was able to help them figure out what they could sell and what they should keep. After they had sold a bulk of the equipment, they gave the leaving prisoners their share, and the rest decided to stay on board.
Kal had found herself in command of the group, not because she was qualified to lead a band of space pirates, but more because she was the one who always stepped up to make a decision when no one else would. She was also the one who had ideas when the fence who bought their medical equipment asked them about a job. She never called herself Captain, but it was Maker who said it first, and the nickname stuck.
Ever since she fell into the role of captain, she reserved all her tears for the shower. In prison, she did everything to fight back tears. The inmates would serve her for all three meals if they saw her crying. Once she was out, it was like all the bottled emotions exploded from her, and she mourned the loss of her village for the first time. However, she suffered in silence. To the rest of the crew, she was confident and capable. They didn’t know she was falling apart on the inside. She didn’t even talk with Hayden, who was human, and despite their feared reputation, seemed always to want to negotiate peace between the crew.
Hayden was the only Teristaque member of the crew. Through persistence, and begrudging acceptance on Grannork’s part, he convinced the crew to start using the word human at least in reference to him. Since Grannork’s clan had been all but wiped out by the Teristaques, the hulking Orcandu seemed to have a personal quest to kill all humans on sight, Hayden being one of the only exceptions. Half of Hayden’s job, aside from piloting the ship, was advocating on behalf of the humans. It was a little beyond most of the crew to discern the difference between a human who was a part of the corrupted government system bought and paid for by the interstellar corporations, and a human who was just trying to eke out a living for themselves.
Hayden also worked his way into Kal’s sleeping quarters. The attraction to Hayden wasn’t a surprise because of her half-human DNA. They were both attractive and liked each other. The surprise was that Kal existed at all. Very few alien species were compatible, sexually speaking. Even on the off chance that two species who evolved on different worlds had similar enough physiology for the desire for sex to occur, it was even rarer when a child could be conceived. Most interspecies couples used to advance scientific methods to create offspring. A half human, half Nigramotoian natural birth was rare.
After breaking free from the prison, Kal had contemplated going to her home world of Nigramoto several times to gain insight into her origins; however, the trip would be a suicide mission since her planet had the largest army of Teristaques in the entire galaxy. The decrand coming from the planet’s core was worth more than half the UPE’s worth. Since everyone in her vessel was an escapee from a Teristaque prison, going to Nigramoto was too risky just for information. Even though they had secured fake IDs and could dock on Teristaque stations, she couldn’t justify the trip. She had to hold out for a day when a job would lead her home.
Sarge, another escapee from the prison and who got her into this mess in the first place, had ended up on Nigramoto. Kal had a suspicion that he had information about her origin. It seemed like more than a coincidence that of all villages, he ended up skulking about hers. Both Hayden and Kal knew Sarge was up to something on the planet, but they didn’t know what and didn’t have time to find out. They had the more immediate concern of running the ship. Which was why, after a series of petty thefts and small heists, Kal found herself plotting one over a casual SPAM dinner.
“I can make our ship disappear on their sensors,” Maker said. “I only need to plant the device on their array.”
Seayolar, a snouted alien with a raspy laugh said, “Then they’ll have already registered our S-ID by then. We spent a lot of money getting a stolen S-ID with a clean history from the Teristaques.”
“Ah yes, that is why Grannork will fly me on a shuttle to purchase some supplies. I can attach myself to one of my space resistant bodies and ride on the outside of the craft. It will be a simple matter of floating to the array while Grannork completes the transaction.”
“What’s the point of stealing if we are going to pay for it?”
“The point,” Hayden interjected, “is that we will be taking much more than we have bought. My friends used to do this back home. One of us distracted the clerk with a small purchase while the others leaned over the counter and stole baseball cards.”
Seayolar roared with laughter. “You stole child cards!”
“Enough,” Kal demanded. “The point is that we can fly within their proximity sensors without being registered. Once Grannork and Maker fly away, the Tricore crew will not see anyone in the area unless they happen to be looking out the window. Meanwhile, one of us will go inside and secure a couple of crates.”
“Who’s going to be stupid enough to climb inside?” Seayolar commented.
“Easy,” Kal said. “Me.”
_______
The heist began as planned. Maker had traversed the outside of the A0C1H7 in a body that made him immune to the vacuum of space. Dr. Feslerk left behind an impressive collection of body parts a quadhelix could graft onto themselves. Kal, on the other hand, had to gear herself up so she could jump to the Tricore when the shuttle detached.
Gathering the supplies had been easy. She floated her way to the storeroom, detached the magnetic locks on six crates, and gathered them in a mesh. The plan involved hauling them to the nearest airlock like a pirate of ancient times carrying a sack of loot. Due to the miracle of ejecting the atmosphere out of an airlock, the sack a weight her entire village would have trouble dragging could be shot towards the awaiting airlock of her vessel.
While Kal was gathering the crates, the seventh one caught her eye. It wasn’t located on the standard magnetic belt that would be sold to desperate vessels dying in deep space for triple the price. It was in a belt labeled for UPE official business only. There was a stamp on the side that said Interstellar Forces #43990940 and a pickup date of tomorrow. The Teristaque military, or Interstellar Forces as they called themselves, used A0C1H7’s as a drop point if two vessels would cross paths on different days.
The part that intrigued Kal was a symbol on the side of the crate she had grown to hate above all else.
It was the eagle crest of Makiuarnek’s troops. Even if she was stealing just resupplies, Kal couldn’t help but cause trouble. She hated Makiuarnek and spent many nights imagining different methods to kill him. Even though she was born in a peaceful village which commended nonviolence above all else, her thoughts were nothing but violent when it came to Makiuarnek. A chance to get back at him, even a small one, was one she wanted to take.
Of course, all her efforts would be pointless if Hayden didn’t make his flyby anytime soon. Timing was critical, and her timer had reached zero seven minutes ago. She checked a readout woven into the fabric of her suit and cursed. There were no ships in the vicinity. She was about to risk signaling him when she heard a clang. The airlock depressurized, and she put on her helmet. She looked up to see a surprised crewman opening the inner door to the airlock.
His eyes went wide as she launched from the ceiling and tackled him. She grappled with him, and they bounced off the haul. The mesh slipped from her hand, and the crates floated and scattered in the struggle. She was able to wrap one arm around his neck and the other on his breathing tube. She punctured the breathing tube, and the air began to hiss. She plugged the puncture with her palm.
“Call your crew and you’re a dead man,” Kal hissed. The man trembled in her grasp. She wouldn’t want to be in his situation. When thugs attacked an A0C1H7, they weren’t known for their mercy. Because of the high risk of deep space assignments, most crews could retire after seven assignments, or at least be given a death settlement that would leave their family comfortable. When they left on a mission, their loved ones wished them an uneventful one.
Even though the crewmember was probably wrestling with the inevitability of his death, he complied with her request and dropped his hands away from the com controls on his suit. “The IF will tag your ship. There are many fleets in this sector. You’ll run into one sooner or later.”
Kal was faced with a dilemma, not because of the man’s threat. Maker’s device assured them that they would never be tagged. Her quandary was whether or not she should let this man live to talk about his encounter. The clean get away was impossible now. The missing crates being an inventory glitch or having a simple explanation would not come to pass. The question was whether or not to leave a witness. It would be very easy to shatter the man’s helmet and toss him into space.
On the other hand, the path of mercy wouldn’t be without its risks. The Teristaque may not have the S-ID code of her vessel, but they would have a description of her. While he wouldn’t be able to see her face because of her suit, there was nothing to stop the Teristaques from searching their ship for the missing crates. The Interstellar Forces fleets were patrolling the area. Any captain who found their vessel on a course leading away from the Tricore ship would have cause enough to stop them.
If she let the man die, there would be no witnesses. The missing crewman and crates might seed suspicion within the remaining crew. The man whose life she now controlled would be the primary suspect. Since the only craft to dock recently was a shuttle too small to hold the seven crates, they would have to assume their crewmember jammed the sensors and made off with the crates. All Kal needed to do was pull the oxygen tube and let space take care of the rest.
Before Kal could come to a conclusion about her best course of action, she saw a twinkle in the starlight from the porthole of the airlock. The twinkle grew to the unmistakable glow of her ship’s engines. It’s about time! Kal hit a button on the control panel on the wall. The airlock began to pressurize with atmosphere again.
“What are you doing?” the crewman voiced his concerns.
“Nothing that should concern you,” Kal ignored him. She focused on the approaching ship. She saw it barrel roll, and she began to count in her head. 1-1000, 2-1000,3-1000. The timing was critical, so she ignored the crewman’s follow up pleas for his life. She put her hand over the button that opened the outer door.
Once she got to ten, she hit the button. In the same instant, she grabbed a carabineer attached to a safety belt on the crewman’s suit. She locked him into place just as the airlock depressurized, and she pulled herself and all the crates out into space. The safety cable prevented the man from being thrust out into the depths of space with her.
Kal watched the A0C1H7 recede into the distance before she flipped around. The crates were ahead of her in a jumbled mess. Because she was unable to keep them in the mesh, some had bounced off the sides of the airlock on the way out and were on the wrong trajectory.
She saw her ship heading towards her. It was a Scitronite Explorer 46-C-110. It was a ship designed mostly for long-range science missions where weapons, maneuverability, and anything that would help in a firefight was low grade at best. It wouldn’t have been a problem if the ship hadn’t currently been in a firefight. The Scitronite was twisting and turning while two old V-Class fighters peppered the ship with laser fire. At least Kal knew why Hayden was late. However, now she had bigger problems because there was a very slim chance he would be able to pull off the original plan and fly by at the precise moment to catch her and her ill-gotten gains in the cargo bay.
Despite the chance that she would most likely die floating in the vacuum of space, Hayden and the rest of the crew had a good chance of making it out of the skirmish alive. V-class fighters were an old Teristaque model shaped like its namesake. They were scrapped years ago, but as with all military equipment, the older models eventually fell into the hands of marauders and thugs looking for easy targets. The two fighters must have been hiding out at the same dwarf planet Hayden was going to use while waiting for Maker and Grannork to rendezvous. A Scitronite would normally be an easy target, but she had spent a little on upgrades. Hayden also had some combat flight training. Even ground forces in the Teristaque army needed to log hours in the flight sims.
The worst part of her situation was not her potential death; she had faced death plenty of times. The worst part was the fact that she could do nothing but wait for the situation to resolve itself. She watched Hayden weave and maneuver while the two ships attempted to disable his engines. As she flew past the original pickup point, the crates spread out even further.
The Scitronite banked a hard left with the two fighters on its tail as it passed her. Hayden weaved the ship through the pursuers fire and headed towards the Tricore. Hayden was heading right for the core of the A0C1H7 at full ramming speed. The stray fire from the fighters pelted the haul of the Tricore. The v-class sped after him without regard to the damage they were causing to the Teristaque vessel.
At the very last possible moment, Hayden tilted the Scitronite upward and missed crashing into the Tricore. The two fighters attempted to follow. They smashed mid-maneuver into the automated processing center she just left. Hopefully, the man she had spared made it back to the crew section in time or her charity would be for nothing. Hayden banked towards Kal and the crates. He was able to scoop her and several of her crates from the depths of space. However, since the nearest Teristaque fleet was no doubt on its way to investigate, Hayden didn’t dare make a second pass for the others.
Kal slammed into the cargo bay, and one of the crates was headed right for her. She rolled to avoid being crushed and dodged another. The doors sealed and the artificial gravity kicked on. She fell to the ground with four of the seven crates. Not a total failure considering she almost lost her life for them. She took off her helmet once the buzzer alerted her of the pressurization level. Her body would ache tomorrow. Adrenaline kept her going today.
The cargo bay had been cleared for the mission. It was a large metal room with three doors. One was the large hanger door she had just flown through, another was an equally large door leading to the bowels of the ship, and the third was a human sized door on a catwalk that surrounded three walls of the room. There was a set of stairs leading up to a control room that operated a large loading crane.
She crawled over to the crates. They were scattered throughout the room. Three were the supplies her ship desper
ately needed, and the other was the mystery crate. It had survived the vacuum of space. Kal touched the symbol of Makiuarnek’s crew on the side. She felt another wave of adrenaline course through her body. This was different than the thrill of the heist. It was the same uneasiness she felt when she thought about the death of her village.
2
The crew gathered in the cargo bay around the mystery crate. Grannork was irritated because of the wait on the dwarf planet where they had planned to rendezvous once Hayden picked up Kal. Grannork wasn’t good at waiting and preferred smashing skulls. When the Scitronite failed to show up on time, he wanted to launch an invasion on the Tricore vessel. The cooler head of Maker prevailed, and he convinced Grannork to stick around and scan the planet.
While they found no evidence of the whereabouts of the Scitronite, they did find scorch marks left by repeated launches from the v-class fighters. They also found a building near the runway. Grannork made quick work of the sole occupant left to defend their hideout. Kal didn’t ask about what Grannork considered “quick work,” even though she already knew how Grannork handled most conflict. Maker and Grannork filled the shuttle with as much of the marauders’ loot as they could, and just as the wait was getting a little too long, Hayden sent a ping announcing his arrival.
Once the replicator crates were safely in storage and a new cartridge installed in the system, Kal gathered the crew to discuss the mystery crate. Kal discovered pretty early in her life as a pirate to include the crew in all major discussions, especially when the discussion was about loot. Since they were all escaped convicts, it would be easy for the crew to devolve to prison rules of distrust and struggles for power. They needed to trust each other. There were many ways to die in the cold vacuum of space, and even easier for a crew member to put the others in danger.
