Space Team: A Lot of Weird Space Shizz: Collected Short Stories

by Barry J. Hutchison

  Unfolding his knife, he jammed it into the gap where the door met the locker body, and gave it a well-rehearsed wiggle. The door gave a soft clunk and sprung open a few inches. Pulling it open the rest of the way, Konto reached inside and pulled out a lightweight EVAC spacesuit, complete with built-in breathing apparatus.

  “Here, hold this,” he said, shoving the suit into Larry’s arms, then moving onto one of the smaller lockers.

  Larry looked down at the bundle of fabric and glass in his arms. “Uh, Mr Garr? Is this a spacesuit?”

  Konto nodded and jammed the knife into the child-sized locker. The door opened, but there was no suit inside, just a stack of spare oxygen cartridges.

  “Uh, Mr Garr?” Larry continued. “Why do we have a spacesuit?”

  Konto’s blade unlocked the next door. “Shizz,” he muttered. No suit. He looked around for a sign that would tell him where the child-sized EVAC suits were, but saw none. Maybe that health and safety record wasn’t so hot, after all.

  “Because we’re going outside,” said Konto. He tried the next locker. No suit. Likewise, the next.

  Larry looked from the EVAC suit to Konto, to the suit, to Konto, to the escape pods, to Konto, then back to the suit again.

  He wanted to ask more questions, but all those head movements had made him feel quite ill, so he concentrated on not throwing up, instead.

  “Aha!” said Konto, prising open the next locker. His excitement was short-lived, though. What he’d thought was a child-sized suit turned out to be some kind of bag with an oxygen-feed built in. Probably for transporting pets.

  Konto moved onto the next locker, then stopped. Something niggled at the back of his mind. He sidestepped to the previous locker and unfolded the bag a little. There, emblazoned on the side in red text, were the words: ‘Animal Vac-Pack’.

  He thought back to the old woman who’d stopped him earlier. She’d told him one of these things would ‘be useful’ – but how had she known?

  She had to be a nun. It was the only explanation. She’d foreseen this whole thing. That would also explain the feeling of unease he’d had when she’d approached him. Nuns were some of the most highly-trained killers in the galaxy, and far more dangerous than they looked.

  Still, they were generally trustworthy – assuming you weren’t on their hit-list – and most of them had a soft spot for kids. Konto made a mental note to thank the woman, if he ever saw her again, then took out the bag and tossed it onto the floor.

  “What’s that for, Mr Garr?” Larry asked.

  Konto took the EVAC suit from the boy’s arms. “That, Larry,” he said. “Is for you.”

  7.

  The Vac-Pack with Larry inside had been heavy, and, in hindsight, Konto had wished he’d waited until they were closer to the door before ordering the boy to climb inside. Instead, he’d ended up having to drag the fonking bag several hundred feet across the floor, the effort of it making his visor steam up.

  Now they were out of the airlock, though, the bag weighed nothing at all. Konto had the strap hooked onto his belt, pulling it behind him as he picked his way down the outside of the station. Larry was hunched up inside it, floating around with his knees pulled up to his stomach and a look on his face that told anyone who saw it how much he disapproved of this.

  There was no sound but the echo of Konto’s own breathing inside the mask, nothing to see but the stars above. Kroysh, he’d missed this. For years, he’d told himself he didn’t need it, that he could settle down, stay planet-side, take a job, but … Kroysh. He’d missed this.

  He was gazing out at the abyss of space when he saw two Zertex transport ships come out of warp. They appeared one after another, decelerating rapidly, then banking towards the landing decks on impulse thrusters.

  The shock-troopers had arrived.

  “Shizz,” Konto spat. He bounded on down the side of the station until he reached the floor he was looking for. He stopped, then was nudged forwards a step when Larry’s bag bumped into his back.

  He hoped the kid was OK. There was a little porthole window in the Vac-Pack, but it was on the side, and there was no time to turn the bag around to check. He was still moving around inside there, so Konto took that as a sign that the seal had held, at least.

  The handle that opened the airlock hatch was large and bright red, designed to be easy to see and operate by someone in an EVAC suit. Konto took hold of it and wasted a moment collecting himself. How the next twenty seconds played out would depend on how deep into the station’s security systems the Xandrie had got. Hacking the elevators would be relatively easy. Getting access to the escape pod systems – and, by extension, their security cameras – would be much more difficult.

  If the Xandrie had seen Konto head outside, they’d know they were coming. As soon as Konto and Larry stepped through the inner airlock, the gangsters would be waiting, and there’d be very little that Konto could do about it.

  Still, they couldn’t hang around out here forever.

  Konto pulled the lever. The outer airlock door opened, and Konto swam inside, pulling Larry along with him.

  Once they were both in, Konto closed the door and pulled himself along the wall to the inner door. He couldn’t spot anyone through the porthole window, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Only one way to find that out.

  When Konto activated the door controls, oxygen flooded the chamber. Gravity returned quickly but gradually, pulling him and the Vac-Pack gently towards the floor. Konto threw off the EVAC suit quickly, and drew his blaster just as a light above the door turned from red to green and the lock released.

  Nudging the door open, Konto risked a peek. The evacuation room stood silent and empty. He listened, but the only sounds were his own heartbeat and the rustling of Larry moving around in the bag.

  “OK, hold on, I’m coming,” Konto said, tucking the blaster back into his belt. He peeled aside the Vac-Pack’s seal and unzipped the bag. A little waterfall of vomit trickled through the gap, then Larry exploded upwards and leaped out of the carrier like a scalded yursk.

  His shoes had been painted in puke but, miraculously, the rest of him seemed to have escaped mostly untouched. He must’ve batted the barf bubbles away just before gravity had returned, then jumped free before the stuff had a chance to slosh back down to his end.

  Larry gulped in a series of big breaths, his eyes wide and staring, his hair slicked to his red face with sweat. “Mr Garr, promise me we’ll never do that again!” he said.

  “I promise to try,” said Konto. He led the way out of the airlock, headed for the door leading out onto the main deck. According to the schematics on the tracker, this was a storage level with a large main warehouse space, and some open plan offices near the center. That was where Deenia was, which almost certainly meant that was where the other kids were, too.

  And Nobosh, of course. Konto was very much looking forward to catching up with him.

  He looked back at Larry and felt a twinge of … something. Guilt, he thought, but that wasn’t fair. He had nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t Konto’s fault that Larry’s dad was a no-good shizznod who’d tried to have his own son kidnapped so he could claim the insurance. The boy deserved to know. He deserved to see what his old man really was.

  And yet …

  Konto grunted, annoyed at himself for wasting time. He stopped, all the same, then spun to face Larry. “Look, kid, this is going to get dangerous,” he said.

  “Get dangerous?” said Larry. “You mean it hasn’t been dangerous so far?”

  Despite everything, Konto couldn’t stop his mouth twitching into a smile. “Good point, well made,” he admitted. “But I’m going to need you to stay here now. They can’t see you in here. They won’t know where to find you.”

  Larry opened his mouth to protest, but then reconsidered. He nodded. “OK, Mr Garr. Whatever you say.”

  “Good boy,” said Konto. “Find a corner, stay out of sight. If anyone comes in here, don’t try to fig
ht them, don’t try to do anything clever. Just put your hands up and don’t make any sudden movements. You got that?”

  Larry nodded again. “I got it, Mr Garr,” he said. “You’re going to come back for me, though, right? Once you’ve saved everyone?”

  “I’ll get the kids safe, then I’ll be back,” Konto said.

  “And my dad,” said Larry. “You’ll save him, too, right?”

  Konto hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course I will. Now stay here, OK?”

  “OK.”

  Konto hurried for the door. He was reaching for the handle when Larry called to him. “Mr Garr?”

  “What is it, Larry?” Konto asked.

  “Can you say it? Just once?”

  “What? No!” said Konto. “He never said that.”

  “Please, Mr Garr.”

  Konto scowled and shook his head, but then sighed. He began to blurt the line out, then stopped. If he was going to do it, he may as well do it properly.

  He turned. He cocked his blaster and raised it, pointing dramatically to Larry with his left hand. He cleared his throat.

  “Justice strikes!” he boomed, in a voice that rolled around the room like thunder. “Like a meteorite!”

  He stopped pointing and lowered the gun. “There,” he said, in a more normal, if somewhat embarrassed voice. “Happy now?”

  The grin on Larry’s face said it all. He nodded, dumbly.

  “OK, now shut up and stay hidden,” Konto told him. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

  Konto turned to the door again. Again, Larry stopped him.

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “What?”

  “Deenia. She doesn’t hate you. She talks about you all the time. She used to cry sometimes. You know, about not having a dad.” Larry shrugged. “Now she doesn’t.”

  Konto’s throat tightened. He looked down at the flashing red dot on his tracker and brushed a thumb against it, just once.

  “Go hide, Larry,” he said, and then he opened the door, stepped through, and was gone.

  8.

  T’sa Nass paced between two towering storage containers, his blaster rifle handle gripped in one of his two front hands, the stock resting casually against his shoulder. He’d found a stack of candy bar boxes on his patrol, and had spent the past ten minutes munching his way through half a dozen of the more interesting ones.

  He was midway through something called a Pilgrim now. It was firm on the outside, with a soft and gooey inside that tingled faintly on the tongue. He’d probably preferred the last one, which had a pleasingly crunchy biscuit base, but this one was good, too.

  His two back arms, which were larger than the stunted front set, began unwrapping the next bar. This one was called Goosh!! T’sa had doubts it would justify both exclamation marks, but its promise of ‘decadent mallow and a smooth frinklenut center’ certainly sounded promising.

  He had just finished unwrapping the thing and was about to take a bite when someone grabbed him by the head and twisted his neck until it went snap.

  * * *

  Lostra of Urt perched on the top of a stack of crates, her narrow yellow eyes scanning the warehouse below. Rows of containers, crates, and boxes stretched out like the walls of a maze in every direction.

  She could see a few of her fellow Xandrie down there, patrolling along the aisles. She preferred it up here, far from the ground. Back on Urt, she’d spent the first decade of her life high up in the treetops, never once touching the forest floor.

  That had all ended with the gnawmite infestation. Her home had come crashing down around her, and her family had been bundled aboard one of the Zertex rescue ships that had come swooping down from the sky. It was the first time she’d ever seen non-Urtians before, and her introduction to a much wider universe than the one she’d known up until then.

  Down there on the floor, she felt boxed in, confined. Up here, she was free. Up here, she could see everything.

  Or, mostly everything.

  She didn’t see the stranger behind her. She didn’t see the knife his hand. He moved stealthily, struck quickly, and then Lostra of Urt saw nothing at all.

  * * *

  Harl Kaask thrust his hips forward, his breath coming in short, shallow groans. He’d crossed patrol paths with Tosro Vii, who he considered to be the most attractive of his fellow Xandrie and, as luck would have it, the only one with which he was even remotely physically compatible.

  She faced away from him, her hands pressed against the side of the container, her long fingers splayed. She yelped softly with each of his increasingly forceful thrusts, and hissed with something that might have been pleasure and might have been pain as he tightened his hands around her slender waist.

  It was not their first such encounter. While neither of them had any interest whatsoever in pursuing a relationship with the other, the occasional frantic fumble was something they both looked forward to it. It was a stress reliever, more than anything else. Being in one of the most feared gangs in all the galaxy brought its fair share of pressure, and their ever more regular bang sessions helped take some of that pressure away.

  Tosro could feel Harl building to the big finish when he stopped, suddenly. She felt a wave of disappointment rush through her. She’d been close. So close! Why had he …?

  A rope slipped across her throat and tightened, and Tosro Vii knew in that moment that ‘so close’ was the closest she’d ever get again.

  * * *

  And so it continued. The Xandrie between the emergency exit and the central office died, one by one, before they could utter a sound.

  Shunk Nosta, son of Shunk Sen, had a knife buried in the back of his rectangular skull.

  The Gart brothers, Do and Tuss, lost their heads. Literally.

  Necks were snapped. Throats were cut. Insides became outsides.

  Four minutes after saying goodbye to Larry, Konto Garr reached the door of the office. It was, annoyingly, the only door, or the only one that could be opened from outside, at least. There were no windows, either, and while Konto could have improvised another entrance if he’d had more time, he had no choice but to take the obvious one.

  It clicked open quietly, revealing a narrow reception area. There was no sign of the receptionist at her desk, but the spray of blood on the wall behind it told Konto all he needed to know. He didn’t bother checking the body he knew would be on the floor. There was no time and, if the blood pattern was anything to go by, no point.

  The inner door leading through to the wider, open-plan office area, stood ajar. Sidling up to it, Konto saw a guard posted just inside. He was swiping across the screen of his comm-device, playing some sort of game that seemed to involve throwing flying creatures at haphazardly-stacked towers.

  Had anyone been watching the guard from inside the offices, they’d have seen a hand catch him by the hair, then seen him be yanked backwards through the door. Had the onlooker been in possession of particularly acute hearing, they’d have heard his muffled sob of fear, followed a split-second later by the even more muffled crunch of breaking bone.

  But no-one saw him taken. And no-one heard him die.

  Creeping through the door, Konto stuck to the shadows and sized up the situation. He could see the backs of the children’s heads forty feet or so away on the left. Miss Tresno and Magazine Mom were with them, both doing their best to keep the kids calm. A single Xandrie stood watching them, his gun held menacingly in both hands.

  There was another Xandrie standing further ahead on the right. She had a practiced upright sort of air about her. Ex-military, Konto guessed. Maybe Zertex, maybe someone else. She stood guard outside the door of a small private office. Through the darkened windows, Konto could just make out two figures – Nobosh and Ranock, the guy with the metal arms, he guessed.

  It was almost too easy. If he’d had more time, he’d have checked the area more thoroughly, but the shock-troops would almost certainly be on their way by now. He had just minutes until this place be
came even more of a blood bath than it already was.

  The woman had a direct line of sight on the guy near the kids. Konto couldn’t take him out without getting rid of her first, and she had set herself up with her back to the wall so sneaking up on her was impossible.

  He abandoned stealth entirely and blasted a hole in her chest. The Xandrie watching over the kids turned, but not fast enough. Konto stepped in close and drove his forehead into the man’s nose, spreading it across his face. The gangster’s rifle was wrenched from his grip. Konto jammed the blaster pistol into the man’s mouth, saw the wide-eyed kids watching him in shocked silence, then pistol-whipped him unconscious, instead. He made a mental note to kill him later, when no-one was looking.

  “M-Mr Garr?” Miss Tresno stammered. Konto pressed a finger to his lips and looked across the faces of the children until he spotted Deenia. She gawped at him in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.

  “Everyone stay here,” he warned, then Deenia’s voice came at him, sharp and sudden and urgent.

  “Dad!”

  Konto’s shoulder exploded, spraying the screaming children with crimson spots. He hissed, his head going light as he turned to see a third Xandrie guard adjusting his aim. Konto’s arm came up, but the blaster slipped from his blood-slicked fingers.

  “I know a hundred different ways to kill you,” squeaked a voice from over by the door. “Pick a number.”

  Konto’s world ground into slow motion. He saw the Xandrie shift his aim towards the door. He saw Larry standing there, a Xandrie rifle tucked awkwardly under his arm, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried – and failed – to point it at the gangster.

  With a roar, Konto pushed past the pain and the fog and launched himself across the floor. He hit the Xandrie just as he opened fire. Knocked off course, the blast streaked above Larry’s head, and Konto allowed himself a split-second of relief before he and the Xandrie hit the floor and agony flared across his ruined shoulder.

  “Everyone look away!” he hissed, then he pressed both thumbs against the gangster’s eyes and pushed and pushed and pushed until the man stopped fighting back.