Starblazer- Through the Black Gate

by Reiter

  “You think you could’ve done that?”

  “We both know I could have,” Nulaki replied, looking out into space.

  “I guess we both know at that,” Persephone thought. “But being able to do it and walking away from having done it are two very different things, bug boy.

  “So you tried running and got caught,” she stated.

  “Yeah, and where did you find that gear anyway?” he asked. “We’d been running for some time and all of a sudden… BOOM!”

  “Happens when I get mad,” Persephone smiled. “Things can be going pretty much normal, and then I lose it. Dust settles and, more often than not, I’m the last one standing.”

  “So glad you’re keeping a cool head now,” Nulaki quickly added.

  “Z’s had a lot to do with that,” she advised. “Taught me how to meditate and focus the rage… temper the steel, as he puts it.”

  “This Z seems to be the sierthay’s chuk-chuk, the cat’s meow,” Nulaki said as he looked around the Bridge. He saw the device that showed the ship’s position in relation to Nibken. He stepped toward the console and pointed at the display. “I’m sorry, are we in a big ass ball?! Your ship is a sphere?!”

  “Mr. Conadier, perhaps we could–”

  “That is so kick ass!” Nulaki exclaimed as he walked around with a bright smile on his face.

  “That is just what I need,” Persephone muttered as Nulaki screamed a few more times. She rubbed the bridge of her nose as her brace-com gave a connection request beep. “Go ahead, Z.”

  “We will have to engage the stealth field, Captain. Satithe picked up a transmission originating from the Mathari Minor Three. It was sent to a substation before it went system-wide… or at least that is the impression Fidriss Mathari is under with the false relay Satithe worked into the system. It will buy us some time, but not much.”

  “Well done by you both,” Persephone stated. “Let’s make prep to get underway.”

  “Underway?” Nulaki asked, coming out of his euphoria. “We can’t leave yet. I’ve got a meeting I have to make.” Nulaki quickly looked at his timepiece. “We’re too late for today’s meet but I’ve got a back-up meeting scheduled for zero two-twenty hours local time.”

  “And this means what to me?” Persephone asked.

  “Your Z is right; I do owe you,” Nulaki smiled. “… a very big one! And it hasn’t escaped my notice that I’ve probably cost you some cred.”

  “Some cred?!” Persephone turned her chair to face Nulaki. “Did you say some with an ‘e’, or sum that’s spelled like rum, as both are very good for the intake?”

  “You get me back to the surface and let me make contact with my guy, I can cut you in for fifteen percent of–”

  “Thirty-five percent or find your own damn ride,” Persephone interrupted. “You want to cut into that number even further, you let me know where I can find some decent hands to man this big ass bolo ball of mine, and I could see my way down to twenty-five percent.”

  “You can see that far, can you?” Nulaki said, straining his eyes at the woman.

  “Not to mention we could talk more about you needing a pilot on your jobs,” Persephone reminded him.

  “Not as much as I need a getaway vehicle!” Nulaki stressed. “You won’t believe the work I’ve had to turn down because of that hiccup. Plus, I know that’s a fifty-fifty split from jump.”

  “If all I’m doing is driving, put me down for a quarter,” Persephone waved him off. “You want to get adventurous and cook up something we’d need the whole ship to do, then we can talk bigger chunks.

  “Because I can see one thing about you already, Conadier,” Persephone said as she got up out of her chair. “You’re not a team player, but you don’t mind playing with others when it helps you out. I know you’re not crew, but you’ll ride along until the ride gets old.”

  “You have no idea how much easier you just made this,” Nulaki sighed in relief.

  “There’s only one rule: Z’s gotta know. The moment I hear him say ‘what’ or ‘we did not plan that’, not only are you out of a ride, but you’ll be adding to what I have to assume is a very healthy list of enemies.”

  “Not looking to do that,” Nulaki assured.

  “You have no idea how much easier you just made this,” Persephone sighed in relief as she left the Bridge. She looked at her brace-com and opened a channel to her First Mate and Engineer. “Z, what is the lander looking like?”

  “She will be flight ready in about two hours, Captain.”

  “Make sure she’s ready for another run into Zhok-Tarr. We’ve got to get our semi-partner to a meet and see if we can get some extra muscle aboard.”

  “I’ll bring your new clothes to your room, Captain.”

  She lifted the brace-com to respond. She wanted to say, “Bring me whatever you want me to wear.” She knew she was dangerously close to being read the riot act by the man. Something was wrong with her and he knew it. It certainly was not the first time she had lost a fight; not the first time she had been bum-rushed, though the way the three of them had moved was something of a horror to recall. They were fast, precise, and killing for them was as complex a thing as breathing. But even that wasn’t a first. She had come across masters before; it is how she had accumulated some of her losses.

  “So, what is it?” she thought as she continued to walk. “Is this about me or am I getting a really bad feeling about the house-broken roach? And there I go again, leaving ‘both’ off the menu.” Coming to a stop, a comforting notion struck her. A smile broke across her face and she nodded in agreement to the impulse. “I need to get to the sim and clear my head. Yeah, some sky-bike time would do me good right about now!”

  Sometimes it is better to begin the journey, to get under way, than it is to sit back and wait until such time that you’re convinced that all conditions are perfect and that there’ll be no surprises along the route.

  John Engler

  (Rims Time: XII-4112.19)

  Her eyes squinted tightly together as the two of them walked side-by-side down the avenue. She took two steps for every one of his, and a meter would have been a mile too long to walk in this stench! Persephone looked up at Dungias, whose face remained unchanged, and she wondered what sort of things went into the making of a Malgovi.

  “We can’t be that far from the bazaar and what not,” Persephone stated.

  “Approximately four hundred fifteen meters,” Dungias informed.

  “Right,” she returned sharply. “Not that far! How the hell did we miss this smell earlier?”

  “I have read nothing suggesting heightened physical exertion blurs the olfactory senses,” Dungias stated. “But it is quieter now than it was when we were giving chase to Mr. Conadier.”

  “Call him Nulaki, that’s his name. We will reserve Mister for crewmen.”

  “Do I detect a sense of resentment in your tone, Captain?” Dungias inquired. “Was the accord the two of you created not to your liking?”

  “Right now, Z, I’m not to my liking,” she admitted, turning at the corner to continue their stroll through the malodor. “I can’t put my finger on it, but something hasn’t rung true since I came to after getting slashed. I’ve been wracked up and jacked up before, you know that! But this time it feels… different. I find myself…”

  “Disoriented?”

  “Freakin’ pissed off!” she barked, though she managed to keep her volume down. “Grandstanding there in the middle of no cover land with my back to half the universe and I have the gall to feel surprised when I get jacked. Of course a Temp-Dick’s got cronies, I know that! Didn’t keep me from just standing there, looking like some wet-eared academy brat though, did it?

  “But that’s nothing compared to that namby-pamby dance routine I put on,” she continued. “The only thing missing was the organ-grinder!” Persephone shook her head in disgust and reached to her left sleeve. The outside pocket held her stash of cigaros and she needed to light one up. It would gi
ve her something else to smell and also calm her nerves.

  “I am sure you will see to it that you are more thorough in your combative approach in the future,” Dungias offered. He had already made it a point in his mind not to be so close to the issue as to keep from seeing the truth of it. The differences between the two pod-sisters were hardly subtle. Though it was a stabbing pain to consider the modifications he would have to make – taking the authority to rewrite either of them – it was, nevertheless, something Dungias knew he would have to do.

  “You better believe it, baby! What the hell is that smell anyway?”

  “I would hazard to guess it is the lake,” Dungias posed. “Stagnant water tends to give off a rather strong mephitis.” Dungias gestured to the building they had been told to enter. The door started to open into the building.

  “Frazzed circuits! Z, can’t you just say ‘the Kot stinks’ and leave it at that?” Persephone asked as she walked inside. “Contact!” she said, lifting her left arm to knock away the gun barrel that was coming toward the side of her head. The gun fired into the wall and Persephone punched the arm holding the gun. Her gloves were still on which only increased the power of her blow. The strange man winced in pain, dropping his gun. Persephone pulled him toward her as she moved out of the doorway, bringing her head forward into the center of the man’s face. He was stunned by the blow, and Persephone could hear weapons being drawn and bodies moving.

  “Eleven plus three!” Persephone shouted. “Goggles up!” She knew the direction her First Mate was facing and that was his twelve o’clock. From his eleven o’clock vector, which was his left side, all the way to his two o’clock on the right, she had heard movement. It was a big room, with a lot of space and a load of bodies that seemed to be moving against them. There was only one problem that came to mind when she thought about where someone could go to find quick and hasty crew… it was like someone claiming that they would have you for dinner and you had to figure out if that meant feeding you or eating you!

  “No, the differences between the two are not subtle,” Dungias thought as he drew his gun. His virtual goggles quickly formed in front of his eyes and he depressed the button under his ring finger as he pulled the trigger. The photonic emission fired up into the ceiling where it stuck … and it was blindingly bright. “But I find myself without complaint.”

  “Well, he said we should be able to find a dozen eager souls,” Persephone thought as she drew her weapon. She had already grabbed the stunned man and spun him around to where he was facing the room. The goggles could not erase the light of the flare, but they kept it from being blinding and Persephone locked her eyes, and her aim, on a man holding a gun. Though he had started to turn away from the glare of Dungias’ light burst, his head was still an open target, and he was dead before he could finish looking away. “Sucks for them that I don’t need that many!”

  “Yield or die!” Dungias yelled as the first man fell to the ground. He put his shoulder into the hinged door and forced it to slam into the person hiding behind it. He heard a female moan before she fell unconscious. “Two of you are down, and one of those will never stand again. By all means, to the foolish I say, please press on, and we will continue to trim the fat, so to speak.” The flare was beginning to die down and Persephone pistol-whipped her living shield across the back of the head.

  “Make that three down,” she said softly, leveling her weapon toward the group.

  “Like it makes any difference,” a voice called out from the far side of the room. “We can die here or die wherever you’re going to take us. Some damn mine or something like that!”

  “Mines,” Dungias thought as he increased the visual yield of his goggles.

  “Captain,” he said softly, lowering his gun. “Their waists.”

  Persephone looked down for a moment. She sighed in anger, looking at the locked identification and location tags and various other powered restraints that were obviously offline. Persephone twirled her blaster and flipped it into the holster. “Where’s your taskmaster?” she asked. All she could hear was breathing and a couple of sliding feet. They did not move much, just half a step here and there. “People, I’m not known for my patience.”

  “He’s in the back room,” the voice answered.

  “And whoever that is, come out here right now!” Persephone commanded.

  A soft clicking sound answered her directive. It was followed by the sound of motorized tracks as a small refitted wheelchair came from the corner furthest from the front door. A young, slender man sat in it. He was dirty and beginning to lose his brown hair. He had been beaten, rather badly, with one of his soft brown eyes swelled to the point of being nearly shut. From the looks of his ribs, he had not eaten well in too long a time. Persephone appeared to be unmoved and she stepped up and bent forward to look into his eyes. After a brief stare, she smiled.

  “So… you’re the little mastermind around here?”

  Swallowing hard, Mel decided to maintain his courageous front. “What if I am?” he shot back at her.

  “Guts he’s got,” she thought. “We can train the rest!”

  “Kid, do I look like a freakin’ miner?!” Persephone held her glare and her position as the reality of it all seemed to dawn on everyone. She blew smoke in the young man’s face before standing straight up.

  “I’ve got less than no time, so I’m only going to say this once. The name’s Starblazer, but it will be Captain to you. I got a ship and I need crew. I don’t need all of you, so please believe me when I say there’ll be no tears if you turn me down. The two unconscious ones don’t even have a choice. They’ve got the gumption and I’ve got no qualms with that.” The boy’s head lowered and he grabbed the controls for his chair which sputtered before it actually turned.

  “Where is it do you think you are going?” Dungias asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Persephone said as she looked around the room. There was too much space here for her tastes. The place had a feel to it that she did not like. “This is Z, First Mate and the meanest son of a bitch inside the Outer Rim! You stab me in the back, chances are I’ll die. You stab him… chances are you just pissed him off!

  “And can someone turn on the freakin’ lights?!” she yelled. One of the silent masses moved quickly toward the wall, just inside the door, where he depressed a button bringing up the lighting in the room. Seeing more of the place only increased her anger.

  “I knew it!” Persephone hissed as she turned on her heels. “Do whatcha gotta do, Z,” she said. “I’m getting the spare charges off the lander.” Though tempted to speak, Dungias waited for Persephone to leave the building.

  “What is this place?” he asked when Persephone was out of the door.

  “This is a swap-den,” the young man answered, still looking after Persephone and wondering what was actually happening. “This is where they bring the slaves for selling. We jumped our taskmaster and managed to take down the shopkeeper too. But the locks are too heavy to go into the lower chambers, and we knew once we’re off the block, the restraints would send alerts to the other keepers.”

  The Malgovi Traveler found he suddenly shared his Captain’s ire. “See to the unconscious two, and place your fallen man with the taskmaster,” Dungias directed as he gestured to the one in the wheelchair. “You will take me to see these locks!”

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  There was something rather comforting about small towns, even if they were the local hot spot for all of the interplanetary activity. After a certain hour, they shut down with maybe only one or two shops or businesses remaining open. Nulaki was not interested in shedding any skin, and he certainly did not want to take a romantic jaunt on the smelly lake. There was absolutely no natural cover for any tail to hide within. So when Nulaki spied a too-tall shadow twenty meters behind his pudgy yet punctual friend, he had every right to be paranoid.

  “Schwachsinnige!” he muttered as he got into the ground-car he had rented two days ago. “This guy is as
good as the air is sweet after dark.” The engine was already started; Nulaki liked to plan ahead. Having the engine running meant there would be no sound added to the area by the starting of the engine. Accelerating, however, could not be masked, so the tailing shadow and Tehdi both came to a stop when the sound of the wheels grinding against the surface echoed through the neighborhood.

  He drove off the roof of the building headed directly at the slender figure. Nulaki’s door opened and he jumped out just before the cable attached to the front bumper went taut. The nose of the car went down and, as designed, the cable snapped. The anchor had done as Nulaki had planned: it turned the sailing vehicle into a tumbling calamity. He landed in the middle of the street an instant before the rented vehicle crashed against the side of the road and the sidewalk. It tumbled into the small diner that had been closed for hours and stopped just as it reached the kitchen.

  “And now for the sauce,” Nulaki whispered, depressing the detonation switch on his wrist-com. The explosives in the car exploded along with the fueling system in the kitchen, and suddenly the dimly lit street was bright and warm. Nulaki quickly walked toward Tehdi and took him by the arm. “Nice evening for a stroll, isn’t it?” He turned the two of them down an alley where he had another car waiting. The engine on this one was on too, but Nulaki had stolen this vehicle.

  “Laki!” Tehdi barked as he slapped the Fazbred’s shoulder. “You scared the life out of me! Was there a reason behind all of that?”

  “You’re being tailed,” Nulaki explained as he got into the car.

  “That was my security man!” Tehdi exclaimed, slamming his car door shut and combing his hand through his graying brown hair.

  “No, T, that guy’s dead.” Nulaki drove out on the street and away from the fire. “Your man was six-two and just under two hundred and thirty pounds. The man following you was five-eleven and not a hair over one eighty-five.”

  “Ooooh my!” Tehdi said, looking back at the crash site. “Oh my lordeee indeed!” he gasped. “I think you missed!”