Flight of the Javelin: The Complete Series: A Space Opera Box Set

by Rachel Aukes

  Axe held his rifle at the ready, though he looked like he was about to be sick. Behind the orc, some cried out, others cursed. All the way down the line, Birk could hear mutterings and complaints. He wrinkled his face. And vomiting. He heard plenty of that taking place.

  They should’ve used longer ropes. Some of the people were practically tied together. Some parents and children really had tied themselves together. Every single person was tied to the next person. Most were linked together by bandanas or shirts, others by blankets. They would all make it onto the Gabriela, even any killed on the run to the colony ship, though none of them would be running. They’d all be essentially flotsam, tugged to the ship by the three with grav boots.

  For living on a colony floating in space, Birk was surprised at how poorly the Jaders handled zero g. It was like none of them had been without gravity before, though he knew there had to be some workers who’d spent plenty of time working on the station from the outside, as well as all the pirate crews. Knowing that there were still those Jaders out there, he didn’t let his guard down and scanned both directions of the hallway for trouble.

  When he heard two whooshes in quick succession, he spun around, nearly losing his rifle, to see both the dock’s airlock and the Gabriela’s outer airlock open. “All right!” he called out to Mutt, who almost smiled.

  Nolin reached the airlock and began moving faster once inside the Gabriela’s gravitized airlock. There, he tapped away on the panel near the ship’s inner airlock door. Within seconds, the door opened.

  Nolin held up his thumb. “We’re good. All environmentals are operating within standards.”

  “Then get her started up,” Birk said.

  As soon as Axe was tugged through the inner airlock, he landed hard on the floor, falling on his butt. Nolin let go and said, “I’ve got to get to the bridge.” And he took off running.

  Axe yanked on the rope tying him to the man behind him. That man, along with the next three people, flew into the gravity-filled ship and tumbled into a heap.

  Axe winced. “Sorry.”

  Birk reached out to help the passengers untangle themselves so more could board. “It doesn’t take much,” Birk warned Axe. “Think of them like helium balloons.”

  Axe nodded and began tugging more slowly.

  A woman stepped forward. “Where should I send everyone?”

  Birk frowned. “Good question. Uh. Have them start filling in the crew quarters on level eight. Each of those quarters have seats that they should buckle themselves into. There’s so many of you that we won’t have time to check on everyone before takeoff. It could get a bit messy right after departure.”

  She gave him a worried look. “How messy?”

  He waved her off. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be just fine.” He leaned closer. “Just be sure to have them buckle themselves in. You know, just in case.” He winked.

  She didn’t seem to believe him, but she turned away and began directing the passengers right after they landed in the gravity. Birk walked back across the hallway to help Finn at the bottleneck. Between the two of them, with one on each corner, they found a rhythm, and the passengers began to move faster toward the airlock.

  “Help!” a girl screamed.

  Birk and Finn shot each other a glance. “I’ll take it,” Birk said, and worked his way around Finn and down the line.

  “Help!” she screamed again. “The line broke!”

  The cry came from the tunnel, and Birk climbed through the door, careful not to jam up the older woman trying to fit through with a bag as big as herself. Once in the tunnel, he walked as quickly as he could down the line. It was easier this time, with no one on the floors, and he soon found the problem. A gap was growing bigger between the chain and about a hundred or so passengers falling behind. The girl at the front was doing what looked to be the breaststroke but making no headway with all the soup of movement behind her.

  Birk reached out. “Take my hand.”

  She grabbed his, and Birk pulled her forward. He pulled harder than he should’ve, forgetting just how little effort it took to move a hundred-plus people in weightlessness. He held onto her until he reached the main group.

  The man at the back held out his hand. “Amber!”

  Birk pulled her so she could take his hand.

  “David,” she said with breathless relief.

  While they held each other, Birk retied the scarf that had come loose. He double-knotted it to make sure they’d make it to the ship in time, though they might have to cut themselves loose once they were on board.

  The sound of rifle fire followed by screams froze Birk.

  He ran, or at least tried to, back through the tunnel. Every step made him feel like he was launching off, but his boots held, and he rushed to the hallway. He saw guards rocketing toward them. These clearly had had zero-g training and were using all four surfaces to propel themselves forward. He fired several shots in the direction of the incoming guards but didn’t come close to hitting one.

  Finn had stepped out into the main hallway, knelt, took aim, and fired. One of the guards went limp and bounced off the ceiling. Another three seconds, and Finn fired again, taking out another guard.

  “We need to board faster,” Mutt called out from his place at the panel. The leader had turned himself around and fired at the guards. Fortunately, photon bursts caused negligible recoil, so Mutt wasn’t slammed into the panel. Unfortunately, since photon bursts caused negligible recoil, the guards fired nonstop as they continued to torpedo toward the gutter rats.

  Birk saw that a couple of the passengers had been hit. One had been killed instantly with a headshot and hung limply in the chain. He scowled, took a position like Finn had taken, and lined up his shots. He preferred projectile-based weapons. He liked the tactile recoil, and those weapons tended to be more forgiving. Laser-based weapons, on the other hand, had surgical precision. Birk had to calm his breathing before he took his shot.

  His breaths steadied, and he fired. A guard went limp. The floor next to Birk sizzled, and he turned to see more troops coming from the other direction. He resituated himself, knowing he was making his back a wide target, and began firing at the newcomers. Fewer of these guards showed expertise in zero g, and they were coming in slower. He suspected the shot that nearly scorched his foot was a lucky shot. He continued to fire, making about half his shots due to the difficulty of hitting targets bouncing around like pinballs.

  Soon, more shots joined his, and he knew Finn and Mutt had cleared the other hallway and were now assisting him. Within seconds, the hallway was cleared. Axe was still pulling in the passengers, who’d become more panicked and wriggled in their chain like jellyfish.

  The girl Birk had grabbed in the tunnel was now in the hallway and he gave her a smile. He and Finn helped the last of the human chain move into the airlock. As the last group of young men approached, Birk asked. “Do we have everyone?”

  The last one nodded. This time, he didn’t give Birk the stink eye.

  As Axe pulled the last of them on board, Birk turned to Mutt. “Why are you still tied to that thing? Let me get you on board.”

  He started walking toward him, and Mutt held up his hand. “Someone has to close the airlock from this side, or else this entire hallway and every hallway connected to it will be compromised. I’m not turning half of Jade-8 into a tomb on my way out.”

  “I’ll do it,” Birk said. “You get on board.”

  Mutt didn’t move. “My people, my responsibility.”

  Birk watched him for a long moment, let out a long breath, and walked over to Mutt. He tugged off one of his grav boots and handed it to the man.

  Mutt held it against his shoe, sole to sole. He guffawed. “You have girl feet.” He tossed the boot back to Birk, who almost missed the catch, and he hurriedly put his boot back on.

  “Now go. Get out of here before the rest of West’s posse shows up. Get my people to their new home,” Mutt said.

  “And you, get your
self to the Javelin,” Birk said. “Throttle will be heading there now, and I’ll tell her you’re on your way.”

  Mutt gave him a solemn nod, and Birk knew the man doubted anyone would wait for him.

  Birk held up his finger. He tapped his wrist-comm and opened a call to Throttle. When she accepted the call, he spoke. “We’re loaded and will be undocking in a minute. Your plan B worked perfectly, sweetheart.”

  “That’s good to hear. I hope you’re on board.”

  “I’m boarding now.” His brow creased. She sounded out of breath. Then he heard the gunfire. “What’s going on? Where are you now?”

  “I’m still at the grav engine. There’s a squad of West’s forces here.”

  He blanched. He knew what she wasn’t saying. She couldn’t get out. “I’m coming to get you.”

  “Like hell you are. Get on that ship. You and I both know Nolin can’t fly that thing on his own.”

  “And the rest of our crew needs you on the Javelin.” Birk wanted to tell her what he thought of that order, but she was right and he was too angry to admit it.

  “I’m coming to you,” Mutt said from over Birk’s shoulder. “As soon as I can get this bloke onto that ship, I’m heading your way.”

  “Don’t come, Mutt. There’s a full squad floating around this room right now.”

  “Sounds like a party, and I’m not about to miss a party. Hang in there until I get there,” Mutt said.

  A long pause. “Okay.”

  “You’d better get on the Javelin, or else I’m going to be very ticked off at you,” Birk chided.

  “I will.” She disconnected the call.

  Birk eyed Mutt. “You’re headed that way?”

  “I’m headed that way,” Mutt said as a matter of fact.

  “All right then. I guess I’d better get on board the Gabriela, then.”

  He headed to the airlock. He turned and waved to Mutt just before the dock’s airlock door closed. Mutt clearly wasn’t one to draw out a goodbye. He went to the panel and closed the Gabriela’s outer door. Axe and the woman waited for him inside. He stepped through the inner airlock door and immediately felt the pull of electromagnetically generated gravity. He moved to the panel on the wall and closed the inner door.

  “I’ve sent everyone to level eight. We’ll head there now,” the woman said.

  Birk nodded and started walking to the bridge. He paused. “You two can come with me to the bridge. We have plenty of open stations, and you can talk to all your people from there.”

  The woman gave him a warm look. “Thank you.”

  Axe gave what Birk assumed to be a warm look, though the orc didn’t say anything. He led them to the bridge, hating the feeling of loss from knowing that Throttle wasn’t on the ship with him. She’s alive, he reminded himself, and he hoped against all hope that she stayed that way.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Throttle squeezed down into the powered-down rotational engine, putting several layers of steel and gizmos between her and the guards. She only exposed her head to fire a few shots at guards who floated up near her. Most of the guards had found equipment, cords, and other things to keep themselves from floating away, meaning they could take relatively accurate shots at Throttle if she tried to move.

  She knew she had to make a move. As soon as they rebooted the systems—which someone was working on—the engine would spin up and she’d be shredded. If she tried to escape, the dozen guards blocking each doorway would shoot her down. Photon guns had nearly imperceptible recoil, meaning it wouldn’t throw the guards back. They could easily take her out.

  Mutt had said he was on his way, but he’d be killed the moment he stepped—er, glided—into the room. She couldn’t wait. Her first rifle’s charge was nearly depleted. She had a spare, but it wouldn’t last her an hour.

  At least someone had gotten annoyed enough to turn the alarm off, so Throttle could hear their talking and movements. They were struggling in the zero g. Evidently, they had some equipment stashed in the back of some storage room that helped them navigate weightlessness, but since Jade-8 hadn’t lost its gravity in their lifetimes, they were floundering like tadpoles in puddles.

  She liked hearing them struggle. What she didn’t like was the sound of someone typing on a keyboard below her. It sounded exactly like the tapping the now-dead tech had done when shutting down the systems. The new tech had come better prepared for gravity failure and used two gummy ropes of some kind that seemed to stick to everything. She’d navigated into the room and to a workstation before Throttle had had a chance to take a shot.

  The new tech had been typing for a couple of minutes already, and Throttle knew she was running short on time. She couldn’t take out the tech without exposing herself to the guards.

  The metal surrounding her began to hum.

  “Shit.”

  Throttle shoved herself up as the motor blades started to rotate. Her leg snagged on something, and her progress was halted. She lowered herself slightly and wiggled fervently. Still caught, she switched to pushing herself up. The humming increased. Throttle grunted as she used all her strength to push upward. Something snapped, and she was flung up and out of the engine. She sprayed rifle fire randomly, one-handed, across the room as she switched on her grav boots.

  They brought her down toward the engine again, and she twisted to fling herself over the edge before landing on the spinning blades. She fired at the nearest guard, who went limp. The others began to move on her position, firing at her. She tried to walk down the engine side, but her right leg wasn’t working correctly. She glanced down to see the straps of her right brace hanging loose, and her chime suit sliced open. She grimaced. Her grav boots would do little good with a bum leg.

  Throttle fired another spray of rounds, not hitting any guards, but their sense of self-preservation caused them to duck. Her rifle beeped, and she saw it was out of power. She eyed the nearest door to find eight guards, all with shields, floating or secured near it. She didn’t have a chance of getting through, but she had no chance where she was, either. She bent her left leg—the only one that still worked—flipped off her grav boots, and launched herself toward the door.

  Her angle was slightly off, and she was going to miss the door. Gunfire whizzed by her face. She threw the discharged rifle toward the source of the shot just before she barreled into a shield. She crumpled, the guard was flung back, and she ricocheted against the nearest wall. No one was shooting at her, and she realized they had no clean shots without risking killing one of their own.

  With her hands free, she was able to reach out and shove off to send her in the opposite direction of the door but toward the side of the engine. She unslung her second rifle as she somersaulted through the air, kicking off from the engine with her left leg.

  The gunfire erupted again.

  “Don’t shoot the engine!” the tech exclaimed. “It’s already damaged!”

  The gunfire didn’t stop until she closed the distance. This time, her aim was better, and she shot toward the open door. A shielded guard was floating in the doorway, holding the handle. He held his rifle with his free hand, but no rifle was meant to be operated single-handedly, and he hesitated before firing.

  She shot him the instant before she barreled into him. The pair sailed through the open door. The dead man hit the wall first, cushioning her impact, and she pushed off him to slam the door closed.

  She tapped on her gravity boots to keep from flying off, and her boots connected with the floor. She shot the panel in hopes that the short circuit would auto-lock the door.

  “Release your rifle.”

  Throttle turned to see another squad approach. The group all had the bright yellow gummy ropes like those the tech had used. In the middle of the group stood Jakob West.

  Her rifle was still aimed at the door. The squad’s rifles were aimed at her. She swallowed, let go of her rifle, and tapped it to have it float away behind her. Her pistol was still holstered, but she didn’t make a
move for the weapon.

  “Already tired of your sister?” Throttle asked.

  “She’s sleeping off the effects of the drug you gave her. She has quite a headache,” Jakob said.

  “Sweet soy tends to have that nasty side effect.”

  Jakob cocked his head at her. “You surprise me. I didn’t expect you to last as long as you did in there, and I certainly didn’t expect you to still be alive.”

  “Surprise,” Throttle said drily.

  “Since you’re still alive, you might as well stay that way.”

  Her body weight suddenly pulled her down, and she nearly fell, her right leg giving no support. Bent over, she noticed her pant leg seeped with blood. She grimaced. She’d been shot.

  Jakob looked around him. “Much better.”

  She leaned against the wall and disabled her grav boots.

  Guards stepped toward her. “Hands where we can see them,” one commanded.

  She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers.

  The door opened, and the guards rushed out, knocking her down. One stood over her. His face was bloody and filled with hate. He aimed his rifle at her head.

  “She lives,” Jakob ordered. “For now.”

  The guard kept the gun on her for another second before he snarled and took a step back. One of the guards relieved her of her pistol and knife and bound her wrists with thin plastic ties while the angry guard kept his rifle leveled on her.

  “Let me guess. I killed one of your buddies in there,” Throttle goaded.

  The guard showed his teeth and tensed around his rifle.

  “I said she lives,” Jakob said as he approached. He placed a hand on the guard’s rifle. “Trust me, she’ll face justice.” Then Jakob turned to her. “But first, she’s going to tell me everything she knows.

  “Take her to my office,” Jakob said and turned to leave.