by Richard Dee
Griff coughed. “Let me go then,” he said.
Myra turned to Ria and undid her wrists, while I did the same for Griff. It was their turn to embrace.
“Let’s get Vlad secure,” I said. “There are all sorts of questions I want to ask him.”
“You’re not the only one,” Myra had a catch in her voice. “Before he dies I want to know if he killed my brother.”
I turned back to Vlad, but he was gone. There was a crash from the alleyway.
“Come on,” shouted Griff. “He’s gone aft.” We all ran for the exit.
“He can’t be far.” His wheel tracks were visible in the bloodstains left by the henchman’s body as it had bounced down the alleyway, but at the top of the hold access they stopped.
I opened the stowage and pulled out the pistols that I kept there. Griff took one from me but Myra refused with a shake of her head. Ria had no reservations and cradled the weapon in a grip that showed she had used a gun before. I already had one so I left the rest in the stowage and we split up. I sent Myra and Ria back to the wheelhouse. “You’ll be safe there,” I said.
“Go!” echoed Griff. I flipped the main hold lighting on and we peered into the space.
The first thing we saw was the chair, it had fallen down the ladder but there was no sign of Vlad. Even if he had not been thrown clear of the chair he must have been hurt by all the acrobatics, but somehow he had managed to crawl out of sight.
The hold was half full of crates, they had been well lashed so they hadn’t shifted, but it meant that there were dark shadows and corners, any one of which could hide Vlad. Griff put his finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. I passed him a torch and took one myself.
Cautiously, we went down the ladder, I felt very exposed to a bullet and I was sweating, once I lost my grip and slid down a couple of steps, making a racket. Nothing happened.
Reaching the deck, we split up and searched the hold. I saw the henchman’s body, at the end of a long red smear, but no sign of Vlad. We met up again at the bottom of the ladder. “Anything?” I asked Griff, he shook his head Where was he?
Suddenly there was a scream from the wheelhouse and we both made a lunge for the steps. We jammed each other on the ladder and in the time it took to sort ourselves out we heard two shots. Lungs bursting we jumped up the steps and raced to the bridge, me in front. Vlad’s corpse was blocking the doorway, he must have sent the chair down the alley as a decoy and hidden in the heads, his withered legs were tangled and bloodstained and it was obvious that he was dead. Shoving his body out of the way I went to Myra and Ria, who were both on the floor.
Ria had a gun in her hand, the barrel smoking. “I shot him,” she whispered in a shocked tone. “I shot him.” Why wasn’t Myra speaking? Turning my head I could see where the second shot had ended up.
She was sitting against the bulkhead, looking relaxed; there was a neat red dot over her heart. The light had gone out in her eyes and my tears welled up as I looked at her face, the calm expression spoiled by their blank stare. I had told her to go to the wheelhouse, told her she would be safe there. I would have to face the guilt I felt. And I wouldn’t have been alive if it hadn’t been for her warning; I looked at the dent in the panel, she had saved me, but I didn’t save her. I felt guilty for surviving.
Ria saw my face. “It’s not your fault, Dave,” instinctively she had read my mind. “I should have been quicker.”
Griff sat beside her and held her. “It was logical, Dave,” he said. “We all thought he had gone aft.”
Ria looked straight at me. “I’m sorry, Dave,” she said. “I wasn’t quick enough.” She was in shock, repeating herself.
She sobbed. I felt numb, as if I wasn’t here and that none of this was happening.
“Freefall, this is departure control, what is your status?” The voice from the radio brought me back to reality, we were flying somewhere and maybe getting in the way, I hadn’t had the chance to check for traffic since we had lifted off.
“Stand by, control, we have a systems problem,” I replied,
“Myra, is there any traffic?” I asked without thinking, feeling a pang when I heard Myra’s voice answer.
“Negative,” she said. “We are in clear air.” Suddenly her voice on the computer wasn’t a cute joke any more. With a jolt, I realised that it was all I had left of her.
“We have another craft approaching, Dave,” said Myra. “It’s calling us.”
“Is it the border patrol?”
“Negative, it’s a private ship, no ID is available.”
“It must be the Chenkos’,” said Griff; clearly there were more than two men with Vlad.
“Can we outrun them?” Freefall had no guns or shielding and only light armour. Griff answered that question.
“I’m going nowhere,” he growled. “We finish this today. Let’s hear what they have to say.”
Chapter Fifty
“But we have nothing to attack them with!” I reminded him.
“They don’t know that, remember; this is an old Navy ship.” Talk about bluffing! What did he think I would do, wave my fist at them?
The speaker burst into life.
“Vlad, Marik, are you okay? Have you got control? What sort of manoeuvre was that?” So that had been Marik, he had been part of this after all.
Griff shouted towards the microphone. “This is Griff; Vlad’s dead,” he said, “and Marik as well, there’s nothing here for you anymore.”
“They’re closing on us,” Myra reported. “They have a missile lock.”
There was silence; I could see them through the port, a small pleasure yacht, all black with an extravagantly curved hull. It would be fast and manoeuvrable. I could see an armament pack secured under each wing.
“Listen,” Griff persisted, “Vlad’s gone. If you were working for him because you had to; because he had some sort of a hold on you, then that’s gone as well. So you have a choice.”
There was silence. The other ship dropped astern out of view, into the perfect place to launch a missile straight into the exhaust. At that range they could hardly miss.
Griff tried again, “Vlad’s gone, so has Van, you won’t have them to hide behind.”
“Stand by for evasive manoeuvres,” I called, knowing it was futile; they were closer than the Moth had been to the battery on Oonal, there would be no time for anything. I tensed my stomach muscles, ready for the end. Nothing happened.
“Yacht Oblaya, this is traffic control; warning, you are in proximity to commercial traffic, alter your heading immediately.” The voice of the airspace controller filled the silence, would that be the last thing we heard?
“Where’s the other ship now?” I asked. There was a pause before the computer spoke.
“It’s altering course, climbing, into orbit,” replied Myra’s voice. “Full acceleration.”
The ship shot past us and we rocked briefly in its wake, it was that close that the dampers couldn’t cope. As they became a dot in the clear sky I let out the breath that I had been holding for several minutes.
“It looks like it’s over then.”
“We need to get somewhere and dispose of Vlad and Marik, and do something decent for Myra,” said Griff, the ever sensible. “We can’t land anywhere like this, if the customs turn up were in deep trouble.” He was right of course, no one would mourn Vlad or Marik but there would still be questions. I couldn’t take the attention.
“We can go to Wishart anyway,” I reasoned. “Let’s drop the cargo like we’re supposed to and then go check on Evan. We can empty the trash on the way.”
“What about Myra?” asked Griff. “She’s only just been back from her mother for a little while, don’t you think we should tell her, she might want to have a say in where she rests?”
That was a fair point. “Do you know how to contact her?” He shook his head.
“Ria?” he asked.
“I don’t know, honestly, she told me that she left her somewhere w
hen she went into the retreat, her mother could be anywhere.”
“I know exactly where Myra is supposed to go,” I said.
Griff called traffic and said we had sorted out our engines, earning a rebuke, we would be probably face a fine and an engine inspection on our return but we would be clean by then. It would be a nuisance but no more. Griff probably knew someone in traffic anyway.
Between us we put Myra into the freezer. Vlad and Marik we dumped out of the lock as soon as we were out of the system. The chair went with them, to drift around for eternity. But I removed the guns first; you never knew when they might come in handy. Then we had some cleaning up to do. I looked at the panel, I could smooth out the dent and repaint it, no one but me would ever know. I decided to leave it, for the time being at least.
I did turn Myra’s voice off of the computer, using mode 101. I couldn’t stand to hear her, knowing that she was in the freezer. Morrie had left the default voices in the system and I chose a male one for the time being, maybe I would put Myra back on when I felt a bit better. But I was glad that I had got the system when I had, at least I would always have her to listen to when I really needed it.
Ria was a comfort, I confided in her, cried on her shoulder and told her a lot about Myra and I, about our plans for the future. I told her about our last serious conversation just a few days ago, when she had spoken about wanting a child.
Ria’s welled up at this point. “I didn’t know she’d told you that,” she said. “But I do know that she told me she had never considered the idea of children before she met you.”
We delivered the cargo, picked up a few things and set off for the moon where we had found the wreckage of the Orca. I was going to leave Myra as close to her brother as I could.
We landed by the remains of the troopship and Griff and I suited up. Between us we carried Myra over to the wreck, it was just as we had left it when we had found Griff. He shouldn’t have been able to help with one arm but he was determined and lifted his share. He looked at the wreck and shuddered at the memory. After we had laid Myra inside, I took the blasting charges we had brought and rigged them at the base of the mountains against which the hull rested. After retreating to Freefall I triggered them and the troopship vanished, buried beneath hundreds of tonnes of rubble. Dust hung over the site; it would take a while to settle.
Griff and Ria had been sobbing quietly on and off for most of the trip. I was barely holding it together. I knew it would have to come out. As the troopship vanished; the three of us had stood in the silent wheelhouse; in a circle; hugging and crying.
Eventually we had to go. As I lifted off, I felt release, Myra was at rest and I could come back and see her anytime. I would find Messinya and tell her, bring her here if she wanted, she could hear Myra’s voice again in the computer, if she could bear it. Perhaps it would be time to turn her voice back on soon. But for now we had one more thing to do. And this had the potential to be difficult. Ria had run away from Evan and the farm, after promising to stay until Harly was up to speed. And Evan disapproved of Griff, hell he probably blamed him for Ria’s departure. And of course I had brought Vlad to his door. So it was with a little trepidation that I approached the farm on Wishart.
I landed the Freefall by the barn that had been her home for so long and we all walked across to the house. It still had the same battered air as when I had first seen it; Ria seemed excited to be back, oblivious to the potential for conflict.
We found Evan around the back, tending to his chickens. “I heard you landing,” he said in that slow style of his. “Reckoned I’d let you find your own way over. You’re still with… him then, Ria? Sit yourselves down while I get us some tea.” He cast disapproving glances at Griff; clearly he was even less impressed with him than he had been when he had had two arms. I was waiting for the explosion but it never came. Nor did the handshakes or hugs you might have expected at a reunion. The atmosphere was decidedly frosty and Ria faltered in her enthusiasm.
We all sat in silence, Ria made no effort to go and help him. “I can tell; he’ll start on again about Griff,” she said sadly, “then I’d get wild, we’ll have to leave and we’ve been getting on okay up till now.”
Based on what had happened since our arrival, I reckoned that the distance had helped their relationship, keeping them apart made it easier for them to get on.
Evan returned with tea and biscuits and poured. “So,” he said at last, after we had sat for a while, “Ria sent me a message that you were coming. She told me that Vlad is dead, that she shot him.” He looked at Griff, with a ‘why didn’t you protect her and shoot him yourself’ sort of expression.
Griff stared straight back at him. “She did, and I’m proud of her.” Evan muttered into his tea and turned to me.
“And I’m sorry to hear about your young lady,” he said. “Terrible waste, that Vlad was evil, his men beat up Harly and he laughed while they did it, and I know it wasn’t your intention to lead him here. And you’ve suffered enough without me adding to it.” He waved his artificial hand around; it seemed to be working perfectly. “She fixed this for me,” he said. “I liked her and I’m grateful, Ria says you buried her on a moon somewhere?”
“That’s right, near to her brother.” He thought for a while. “That’s good,” he finally opined.
“And I’m sorry too,” I continued, “that you got dragged into my problems. I thought that with Vlad in prison on Hulm everything would have been alright. You should never have been involved.”
He shrugged. “Scum always floats. Is he the reason you only have one arm Griff?”
“He is,” Griff answered. “I know you don’t like me too much, Mr Constable, but I’m looking after Ria the best I can. I hope that she’s with me because she wants to be.”
Ria leant across and held his one good hand. “Believe me, Father,” she said with meaning, “I love you but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with Griff, just as he is.”
Things were starting to get cheesy when Harly arrived. He was middle-aged with a weather-beaten expression. His arm was in a sling. “Day all,” he said, in a carbon copy of Evan’s voice. “Nice to see you again, Miss Ria, perhaps you can finish showing me around, when you have a moment?” His delivery was deadpan and I wondered what her reaction would be.
Just as she was about to speak, Harly’s face cracked into a grin. “OK I admit it, I’m just teasing, you did fine, Evan talks about you a lot.”
After that, the day got better. Harly seemed to have provided some sort of perspective on Evan’s attitude and now that he was here, he was less grumpy. Maybe he could see and accept that Ria was happy. The beer made an appearance and we sat in the afternoon sunshine and swapped stories. Evan’s sense of humour started to show through and helped by the alcohol we all relaxed.
He told us that the farm was doing well, apart from the loss of a few hogs to Vlad but he had already replaced them.
“It’s a blessing really,” said Evan, as we sat on his porch as the sun set. His barbeque was going and we were surrounded by empty beer bottles. “The hogs were due for slaughter anyhow,” he said with a grin. “We’ve got enough bacon and sausage in the freezer for ages now, thanks to him.”
A Sneak Peak at the next book
Freefall
As the night wore on I was getting more and more desperate, I had found news of three of the names on Griff’s list, two were off planet and the third was in lock-up for assault on a Guard. That meant that I only had one chance left. Wearily I trudged on down the brightly lit street.
Several drinks and bars later, I still hadn’t found any news of her. Like the rest, this bartender professed never to have heard of Elana Vilde.
She was not the only woman on my list; when he sent it, I thought that Griff was still trying to find me a new Myra. His message said that Ria had suggested her as a very experienced mate, ex-captain of mine transports, demoted for a little misunderstanding with loading figures, but handy to have around in a
tight spot.
As I nursed my drink in the noisy, smoke-laden atmosphere, I reflected on the rim, and the people who worked it. You needed to be a special type of person to survive, unlike exploring the confines of a planet, out there was a whole big load of nothing, you might spend a lifetime in space, work yourself to death and no-one would mourn your passing. Or you could make a name for yourself on your first day. And the work was physically very demanding, No wonder some people looked into the blackness and went crazy.
Someone slammed into my back and I turned, there appeared to be a fight developing and I had been hit by a flying miner, blood streaming from a cut on the side of his shaven skull. All miners had shaved skulls; it helped the helmets and ear protectors to fit snugly. And they had a reputation for fighting at the drop of a hat. Suddenly half the occupants of the bar were fighting the other half, chairs, bottles and glasses were flying and the noise had increased.
“Sorry friend,” he gasped. “More of them than I thought.” As I turned back to my drink, I could see in what passed for a mirror behind the bar that there were three huge men advancing toward him, expectant looks on their faces.
“They seem to think it’s my round,” he explained. “You fancy giving me a hand?”
The request was strange, after all I didn’t know him, but I had had just enough booze to feel invincible, and by the look of the bar, fighting was a regular occurrence. Besides which, I hadn’t found who I was looking for, and I was starting to feel frustrated.
“Alright,” I said. “Then it will be your round.” He grinned and we turned to face the foe.
They were quick these three, and strong, the first picked up a wooden chair as he advanced and while I was looking at him his ally came at me from my left. I felt a huge fist explode against the side of my head and I reeled away, bouncing off the bar and scattering drinkers and furniture as I flailed for balance. My head was spinning and my thoughts seemed to have slowed down, so that I could hardly think of what day it was, never mind my next move.
