Port Olisar held a special place in my heart due to my repeatedly failing to get fatally shot there (though I still bore the scars on my thigh), as well as its utilitarian and efficient layout. Sure it didn’t have medical facilities like nearly every other station in the ‘verse or such amenities as atmospherically sealed hangar bays (or hangars at all), but the easy access to the landing pads that the open approach provided led to an unparalleled frictionless experience of pulling into a station, landing, getting business taken care of, and taking off again. The aging design was popular among spacers but not among maintenance personnel or the Crusader infrastructure gurus, who had long sought to decommission it and replace it with something more modern. Rumor had it they’d recently gotten their way on paper.
Ain’t change grand? I thought to myself as I padded along the metal decks, focused firmly on my mission to acquire the only noodles available: the instant variety from the vending machine.
I kicked back in the comfortable black false leather lounge couches before the wall of transparent plexi that gave me a spectacular view of part of the pads, two of the great spinning wheels of the station, and beyond that, the grand orange gas giant of Crusader brilliantly lit by the star of Stanton. The teriyaki noodles were more than acceptable and I entertained myself by watching the coming and going of ships (and chuckling as they were randomly stopped by the overzealous Crusader security forces for cargo scans).
With the noodles sadly exhausted I made my way back to the airlock and put on my green, angular helmet, then toggled my headlamp twice, confirming that I saw a flashing light before me. I know it sounds silly, but that little extra confirmation that I did indeed have a helmet on was reassuring before I opened the airlock and stepped into the void of space. I tapped the “OPEN” button and waited while it cycled with a heavy mechanical clunking whir, then made my way through and up to my Cutlass Black on Pad 02 of Spar A.
Port Olisar was a long spindle with three rings spinning about it, with 4 spars dividing the rings, two branching off the spindle between each ring labeled A, B, C, and D. I’d seen more than one ship try to take a shortcut through the rings to a spar only to explode as they encountered one of the braces to the rings that moved deceptively swiftly through the inky blackness. For my part I’d vowed not to risk it and had studiously avoided such explosive death by going the long way around.
With my ship (and my belly) now refueled I was ready for the final jump to CRU-L1, just a short hop star-ward from here, to deliver the medical supplies carefully stacked in my hold. Every station was nearly permanently hungry for supplies and eager to dispose of waste, so an enterprising spacer could usually (not always) make a quick credit buying those supplies cheaply planetside and selling them to a station in need.
My Cutlass fairly well leapt off the pad like a falcon launching itself on the hunt, soaring into the void and rolling to make CRU-L1 “up,” then reorienting to point to my target. I toggled on my quantum drive, let it spool and calibrate, tucked in my landing gear, and when ready, punched it, sending Port Olisar, Crusader, the stars, and everything else around me warping past in a rainbow haze of Quantum Travel. I relaxed and began to think about lining up my next job. What was I going to do after delivering Medical Supplies from ArcCorp to CRU-L1? What was I going to do out in this neck of the woods?
Something jabbed at my left leg as a stern voice said, “Stop the ship immediately.”
I looked down and to my left.
A man in a black padded leather armor with a tight cropped haircut looked up at me over the sites of a compact SMG pointed at my torso. “Stop the ship now!” he repeated, this time more forcefully.
“Ok, ok.” I replied as calmly as I could, moving slowly but surely, one hand at a time, making a point to only do as he asked and nothing more, killing my quantum drive. The cycling, throbbing hum that echoed through the ship came to a slow halt as the stars swam back into focus, then we were drifting in space, just the two of us, far from any backup I had.
“Get out of the cockpit.” The man said, motioning with his gun.
I nodded, keeping my hands up except to toggle the seat-release to lower it down to my assailant’s height. Once there I carefully climbed out of the seat to the right, wishing there was an armor class higher than “heavy” and wishing I had it.
To my relief there didn’t seem to be anyone behind the man, no one backing him up in the area behind the cockpit, and I didn’t hear any activity in the cargo bay, so perhaps it was just him and I?
“Drop your weapons and sit on the bed.” he said, motioning again with his weapon.
I gingerly extracted and sat down my sidearms and walked swiftly to the bottom bunk to sit down, having to pass my weapons rack on the way. It didn’t matter, there was no way I was going to get a weapon out, spin it around, chamber a round, line up a shot, and take it before he got me. Besides, I’d be shooting toward my canopy. If I missed or the shot penetrated him I’d vent my own atmosphere. Not the end of the world considering I was in a hermetically sealed suit, but still something I wanted to avoid.
I sat heavily on the lower bunk and spread my hands, still staring at the man that had just hijacked my ship. He moved with fast, jerky motions, his lithe frame accentuating them, making him almost look like a spider.
He turned and attempted to interact with my controls with one hand while keeping the gun pointed at me with the other.
Ah, I thought, not familiar with the Cutlass Black. I wonder if I can use this?
His eyes flicked back to me. “The readout is black. Did you just disable this ship?” His voice rose toward the end as tension crept in.
“No,” I said, calmly under the circumstances, “the Cutlass Black’s controls are disabled unless you’re fully seated and the seat is up and ready to go.”
He glanced back at the control panel in the cockpit for a moment, then back at me, his face betraying concern and confusion though he was clearly trying to project confidence and intimidation. Quite frankly he didn’t need to try that hard, the gun did a lot of the work for him.
“Have you ever flown a Black before?” I asked despite myself.
He glared. “Shut up.”
I did.
For a short time the man paced in front of me, occasionally taking another glance at the controls in the cockpit but mostly keeping an eye on me. Finally he came to a stop. “Teach me.”
“Teach you?” I repeated.
“Teach me how to fly this ship.” He said, pointing to the bow.
“Ok, no problem,” I said, not moving, “I can do that. I can teach you how to fly easily enough. You know what I can’t do?”
“What?” his glare returned.
“Teach you how to land.” I spread my arms and attempted to look as earnest and open as possible. “It’s a whole different beast than flying. It’s far more difficult. If you’re going to crash, that’s when it’s going to happen, not while you’re flying. It takes experience, practice, theory, and dedication. It’s not something you can just pick up from a few holovids or a few hours of instruction.”
“Wait,” his expression dropped, “hours?”
“I thought you wanted me to teach you how to fly?” I asked. “This is a spaceship, not a hoverquad.”
He lapsed back into thoughtful silence, clearly disappointed in my answer. At least he didn’t appear to be actively contemplating shooting me.
“Alright, you fly.” he motioned for me to get back out of the bed and head back for the cockpit again.
“Alright,” I said, complying, “I’ll fly. Where are we flying to?”
“Yela.” He said distastefully.
“Ok, Yela. Should be a short jump.” I carefully stepped past him and up the steps to the seats, then slid into the captain’s chair. “How did you get onto my ship?”
“While they loaded the supplies at Area 18.” he said. “You didn’t inspect very well before you took off.”
I guess not! I thought to myself. Last time that happens!
“I’m going to trigger the seat now, ok?” I said, so as not to startle him, then flipped the toggle switch and was forced back as the seat lurched up and forward into position in the cockpit. Immediately the MFDs flared to life before me and my controls became responsive. For a second I entertained the idea of rolling and accelerating violently to throw him off his feet, then scrambling for a weapon, but he would still be closer and would still be in a better position even if he dropped his. I decided against it.
“Don’t get any wild ideas.” he warned as he stepped up to my left, the same position he’d introduced himself from.
“Relax, you’re in charge, I get it.” I responded as I gently pulled us around to face toward Yela. By then I’d gotten a better look at the rest of his armor- a thick faux leather suit that functioned well in atmosphere or the vacuum of space, black with white and pink highlights. I knew the outfit, or similar. I decided to risk further conversation to satisfy my curiosity.
“So what does the 9 Tails want with my tiny shipment?”
He glared hard. “I’m not 9 Tails.”
I glanced down and looked him over once more in confusion. “You’re not? I feel… very hijacked at the moment you see.”
His glare didn’t waver. “I’m leaving them.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Turning over a new leaf I see.”
“Are you trying to get shot?” he asked.
“No, I’m just curious.” I mentally cursed my mouth for running faster than my brain. “How does one go about leaving the 9 Tails?”
“Officially?” his glare softened, “You don’t.”
“I see.” I said, somewhat dryly.
Then he dropped the bombshell that changed my world.
“They have my sister.”
I remained silent for a small time, taking this seriously, then repeated myself in a darker tone. “I see.”
This made a degree more sense now.
Stowing away on a ship. Hijacking it with no idea of how to pilot it. I would be desperate too if my sister was being held by the 9 Tails.
I slipped my hands from the controls and folded them in my lap. “What exactly are we flying into on Yela?”
This time he hesitated instead of me. “I’m going to do what it takes to get my sister back.”
“I see.” I repeated. So. A suicide mission. I thought to myself. “Do they have anti air defenses? Airborne or ground based?”
“I don’t think so.” He replied. “It’s an old underground bunker that they’ve taken over and have been working on. Last I knew, none of the surface sensors or weapons emplacements were functional.”
I nodded. An underground bunker. Fantastic. I had a policy about those. I didn’t go near them. Those were for hardened security forces veterans to clear gangsters out of, or to defend from roving bands of pirates, not for a pilot such as myself to wander into the middle of. Or even to fly near for that matter- they were notoriously well defended with anti-aircraft turrets.
“So what is it exactly that you want from me?” I asked, not too unkindly given the situation I believe.
“I’ve been thinking about that.” He responded. “You’re going to fly us down there. I’m going to take the keys. You’re going to stay on the ship. When we come back up you’re going to fly us out of there.”
I nodded in slow motion, contemplating. “And if you don’t come back up?”
He motioned with his weapon. “I am the one with the gun.”
I nodded faster. “I getcha, just seemed… optimistic. What kind of resistance are you expecting?”
The man in the leather jacket shrugged. “They’re not expecting me.”
“They’re not?” I asked. “They have your sister, how could they not be?”
“Do you have any idea how many people they pass through their hands? The fact that I know which facility they’re holding her at is a small miracle. They count on people disappearing into the void.”
“So, not to put too fine a point on it, but the plan is to walk in the front door with a gun and hope for the best?” I asked.
He looked mildly deflated. “It doesn’t sound as good when you put it like that, but time is not on my side here. I know how they’re treating her. I know they’re going to move her, it’s what they do. I have to move on this.”
I nodded in understanding. “I truly wish I had more help to lend you, it sounds like you’re in a hell of a predicament.”
The man looked taken aback. Empathy was not what he was expecting from his hijacking victim but I couldn’t help but place myself in his shoes. If it were my sister, I’d likely be doing something desperate and stupid as well. Hopefully not this desperate or this stupid, but I understood why he hadn’t gone to the Advocacy or hired mercenaries either. The Advocacy would have just arrested him and wouldn’t have moved on his information about his sister’s location until it was far, far too late, while if he didn’t have the money a mercenary wasn’t an option in the first place.
“Just get me to Yela.” He said.
“Right, Yela.” I responded, turning back to my controls. I toggled on the quantum drive and began the process of it spooling up and calibrating to Yela. The familiar warping and nearly pastel semi-oil slick dance of color outside the windshield shortly gave way to the blue and white cratered iceball of a moon, ringed by a debris field along the axis of rotation.
“Where to on Yela?” I asked as we decelerated back to cruising speeds.
“Set your heading to Outpost NT-999-XXII.” He said darkly. “That’s where she is.”
“Alright, NT-999-XXII.” I punched in the coordinates and spun us slightly to point at the marker indicated on my HUD, then triggered the quantum drive once more. In a few moments we were coming to a halt 5 kilometers above the surface and 24 kilometers out from our destination. “Hold on.” I intoned, slowly easing forward on my throttle and kicking in the Hydrogen engines as the quantum drive fully cut out.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man brace himself against the copilot’s seat. He no longer seemed quite so concerned with keeping the gun on me. I idly contemplated continuing to accelerate forward, then slamming on full reverse thrusters, but the odds were still well in his favor- he still held a gun, and I was still a minimum of 7 to 10 seconds from getting to one.
“20 Klicks and closing,” I said, still accelerating. As we crossed 10 kilometers I began to slow, dropping my speed limiter to SCM and applying light reverse thrusters to slow us, and by 5 kilometers we were slowly but steadily eating up the distance in a controlled manner.
At a little over 3 kilometers I could make out the red blinking light that adorned the highest point of the outpost and canceled my navigational aids, wanting as clear a HUD as I could get for the approach. I knew the man had said there were no weapons emplacements, but I wasn’t sure I believed him and wanted to be as prepared as I could be.
Sure enough, at a little under 2 kilometers from the bunker the small icon of a turret flared to life on my HUD in vibrant blue against the stark white backdrop of Yela.
“Uh buddy? We have a situation.” I said. “Turns out they do have anti air after all.”
“What?” He sounded betrayed.
“If you want any element of surprise, we’re going to have to leave it alone.” I said, coming to the realization as I said it. “I’m sorry man, but it looks like you’re in for a hike.”
He looked sour. “That’s… fine. Just get me as close as you can.”
I angled for a convenient crater and extended my landing gear, spinning so that our rear faced the bunker for easier loading and unloading and began the process of setting the Cutlass Black down. Snow and ice particles billowed from beneath my thrusters in mighty clouds. I hoped they weren’t picked up by any lookouts, but in the low gravity I doubted that they’d be missed. We landed with a heavy, “whumph,” and I lowered the rear loading ramp. Then, the second statement that changed my world, this time from my mouth instead of his: “I have an idea.”
He looked at me expectantly.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” I continued, chewing on the idea and hating every piece of it even as I proposed it but trying to make it sound as though I didn’t, “I’m thinking I should have a gun and come with you.”
He raised his eyebrow and flatly said, “What.”
“Hear me out. I’ll make it quick.” I said, my hands off the controls as the ship cycled down. “First, if I was in your shoes, I’d do whatever was necessary to get my sister back too. I get that. I do. I don’t blame you.”
Ok, so I lied a little, so what? He was still holding a gun that he was very ready to point at me! I totally blamed him.
“Second,” I continued, “you’re going to take my keys, go into a bunker, and get yourself killed, abandoning me on Yela. I’m going to have no way of getting out of here and it’s only a matter of time before I’m discovered by our friends in that bunker. Accompanying you gives us both the best shot at survival. Third, you need me and cannot secure me and this ship with the time and resources you have. How will you know I won’t be armed when you come back from the bunker? Lastly, as far as I can tell, there’s an innocent person being held hostage down there. I’m offering to at least double your firepower and chances of success here, and you know I’m telling you the truth because it’s in my best interest. Also, we both know damn well that your old friends in that bunker will be no friends of mine, it’s not like I can pull something quick on you or something like that." I leaned back in my seat, hoping that my words would work.
He chewed them over for a while, then, “Alright. But I’m going to carry the guns until we’re at the bunker.”
I nodded. “Whatever makes you feel better.”
There goes the idea of just shooting him in the head and being done with it. I thought.
____________________________________________________________________________
The icy winds whipped at us as we pushed through the crunchy snow toward NT-999-XXII, the 1.8 kilometers or so from the ship sounding like a very short walk right up until I actually had to do it in heavy armor with opposing wind in the snow. At least for me it was easier than it was for my now-extremely-well-armed friend, carrying my weapon along with his own as he was. With his helmet back on there was nothing to tell him apart from every other 9 Tails member I’d ever seen. Together we trudged at a rapid pace toward the bunker, hopeful that we’d be able to simply walk right up to the front door.
Rows of large gray and yellow cylinders, several times the height of a man and at least two meters in diameter rose up around the entrance, fronted by two even larger spires. I had no idea what they used to store, but it must have been vital to the function or purpose of this facility at one point in its history. They would provide at least some cover as we approached, but only if the spires themselves weren’t being used as lookout towers.
Ultimately we needn’t have feared, being able to approach the cylinders unopposed and to get a good look at the entrance of the bunker itself from there. We crouched in the shadow of one of the cylinders for a few moments and the man begrudgingly handed over my weapon, my FS-9 LMG.
I had very little experience behind a firearm but it seemed to me that if I was going to be in a firefight that I would want to send as much damage downrange as quickly as I could, that I would want to reload as infrequently as possible, and that the FS-9 would meet both of those goals while being only a bit heavier and more awkward than a more standard assault rifle. It was the same theory behind my choice of heavy armor as opposed to the more flexible, lighter weight body armors that were widely available- sure they would allow me greater agility, but if I was going to get shot in the first place, I wanted it to matter as little as possible. My temporary companion, by contrast, was shivering in his light armor and carrying only a very compact and agile SMG.
I gratefully received my weapon and looped the strap around my left forearm as a brace, then checked to be sure one was in the chamber. With that ready I turned on my underbarrel laser attachment, glanced through my scope to make sure that the small red dot still lined up with my crosshairs, and nodded silently to the man next to me.
Together we sprinted across the final 20 or so meters to the concrete ramp up to the offset doors that appeared to be jammed permanently open. One after the other we slipped inside, covering each other as best we could through the defender’s dream that the entrance was. Just inside the second set of doors stood an elevator shaft, with the elevator at the top, ready and waiting for us. No opposition greeted us.
We gathered on the elevator and made eye contact for a second, then shrugged. He pushed a button on the controls- I didn’t see what it said, but the elevator lurched into motion as I temporarily became far more weightless, and then the rock walls of Yela were speeding past upward.
I raised my gun and more or less expected to spend the rest of my time down here looking through my scope, though of course I would be glancing around and keeping my peripheral vision as open as possible.
As the elevator slowed a loading room came into view, lit with a mixture of white, yellow, and red lights at various points. Bodies in blue, white, and gray armor lay piled up in a corner with a pool of blood seeping out from beneath it. I swept the room with my muzzle, looking for any sign of movement. “Looks clear from my angle.” I said.
“Same.” came the reply. He was already slinking forward, up toward the first corner toward the right.
“Hey!” I hissed, before he rounded the corner.
He spun, eyes wide. “What?”
“Your weapon is unsuppressed. If you fire that you’re going to bring this whole place down on top of us. Let me check it out.” I hated every word coming past my lips but I knew it was the right play. A suppressed weapon will almost always be the better choice.
He frowned for a second, then fell back. “Ok, but talk to me.”
I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
I crept to the corner and peered around it, looking for movement. There! Across the distance on the other side of the facility, in the steam, I could make out the silhouette of a big man casually holding a large weapon of some sort.
“I’ve got one contact, long, not seeing anything else.” I said over my shoulder without taking my eyes off the man I’d spotted.
“Ok, steady up on the first barricade, I’m going to move to the barricade on the left.” came the voice right behind me.
I nodded and moved forward in a half crouch, leaning up against the barricade, resting the rifle on it and glancing left to see my partner take up his position at his own bit of cover.
I stared through my scope at the burly man in blue and gray armor carrying the bulky gun of some sort. His form faded into a silhouette, then back into focus as steam rolled across the bunker to surround him in a cloud, then dispersed. My heart pounded in my ears so loudly. My rifle was unnaturally still, braced as it was against the make-shift barricade before me. I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry.
For a moment I wondered about him, a cardinal sin. I was there to do a job: to stay alive. There was no doubt in my mind what he or his compatriots would do to me if they caught me. The grisly remains of the former occupants of this facility that I’d so far stumbled over spoke volumes to that end. Being shot and killed quickly was the absolute best outcome I could hope for down here unless I came out on top. Considering the training and expertise of the quite expired former occupants, especially as compared to my own, that seemed… well… I REALLY didn’t want to proceed. Every fiber of my being screamed to turn around, slink back around the corner, get on the elevator, get back to my ship, and get the hell out of here. But that wasn’t an option at this point, now was it?
I licked at my lips nervously as my finger brushed up and down the trigger. My hand felt suddenly awkward on the grip.
Squeeze the grip, don’t pull the trigger.
I was overthinking it. I could have shot this man fifteen times by now but I remained there, frozen by a mixture of indecision and trepidation.
A commanding voice exploded to my left, “Eyes on hostiles!” followed almost immediately by the sharp report of a gunshot. Something smashed into the barricade below me and to my left.
I’ve been found!
The burly man spun toward me, raising his weapon. I instinctively squeezed. My rifle kicked back twice. I honestly don’t remember hearing it. At least one of my shots struck true and the man began to crumple. I was already spinning to my left.
A figure in plain clothes wearing a black mask with a vibrant pink symbol covering his face was charging my barricade, a large SMG raised and pointed at me. Fire blossomed from his barrel as bullets whined past my head. He missed. I didn’t.
“We need to move, quickly!” the man to my left said, pushing up and past his barricade, stepping almost directly into my line of fire.
“Careful!” I snapped, jerking my finger off the trigger and slapping it onto the side of the rifle. I lifted my LMG, still braced against my left forearm, and moved to follow him.
The bunker appeared to be an old extraction facility of some form, built around some gargantuan piece of equipment that tunneled far into Yela’s crust, formed of concrete with steel railing and hazard yellow paint on exposed surfaces. Cracked pipes leaked the aforementioned steam, giving the whole place a dense, heavy atmosphere that made it difficult to see from one side to the other despite it not being all that large of an area. Maintenance equipment and lab tools lay strewn about where they’d been abandoned in a hasty retreat an unknown time ago.
We moved swiftly forward through the light haze, him charging forward while I tried to keep up while moving from cover to cover, looking for more 9 Tails.
“Left!” I hissed as I saw a man pass around the corner of the machinery and into my view. I raised my weapon and fired a short burst, dropping him without him ever seeing me. My partner was already rushing ahead, moving toward the stairs past the body of the first man I’d seen.
I instinctively looked up toward the catwalk above me as I pushed for the stairs and saw a pair of boots on the stairs leading to them. I slunk back toward my right, away from the machinery, trying to get both behind the cover of a sturdy looking lab table as well as get a better angle on the man on the catwalk. “Hey, up top!” I called out, trying to get my partner's attention, but he was already at the base of the stairs and sweeping across them, looking up toward whatever they led to- I couldn’t see from the angle I was at.
The boots on the stairs of the catwalk took another couple of steps down and a head came into view over the top of the solid, paneled railing that ran along the sides of the catwalk, covered with the same black full-face mask with a vibrant pink character on the front. I knew I wouldn’t get more than one shot here. I had to make it count. I carefully lined up my shot, bracing my rifle against the table, fully exhaled, and squeezed. My rifle thumped powerfully against my shoulder and the head over the railing jerked, then disappeared with a clatter as his gun hit what sounded like every piece of the railing on the way down.
I quickly spun to my right and raced for the stairs, finding my partner holed up on the far side of them, out of the way and under cover in an alcove just past them by what appeared to be either a storage closet or another set of elevator doors. I wasn’t sure which.
“Two more on the landing on the stairs.” He said in a stage whisper to me.
“I’ve taken out four so far,” I said, “Do you know how many there are?”
He shook his head, “No, but a standard squad is ten. There could be more or fewer but I’m expecting about that many in here.”
I nodded. “Six ish to go. Any idea where in here they’re holding your sister?”
He shook his head again. “No. We’ll have to search.”
“Sounds good.” I said, raising my gun again and stepping out toward the stairs. Two men were indeed on the landing at one point, but by now they were making their way down the lower set of stairs toward us. The three of us seemingly fired as one, though they were far more exposed than I was. Bullets twanged off of my left shoulder pad, sending me spinning back into cover, but my spray of bullets chewed through from my lower right to upper left as I spun, cutting a line up and through both of them as I fell awkwardly back. I heard mortal cries that ended in guttural gurgles as I pulled myself back to my feet and inspected my shoulder- it looked like I’d need a new shoulder pad if I survived this, but that was the least of my concerns- it had done its job and done it well. This was precisely why I wore heavy armor.
My partner looked me over with concern, “You ok?”
“Yeah, I think I’m good!” I said, breathing heavier than I thought I was. “Let’s keep moving!”
He nodded and rolled left, out of cover and back onto the base of the stairs, this time pushing up them and toward the landing on the middle, which held another lab table and turned ninety degrees to the left. I followed him, about 4 paces behind, my rifle raised and focused on the upper railing over the top of the landing, just waiting for someone to pop over the top and surprise us while he was preparing to pop around the corner. When he was ready he slid out to his right, taking the extreme outer edge of the corner, revealing the upper stairs degree by degree, going smoothly, neither slowly nor overly hurriedly, then muttered, “clear,” and rushed forward. I followed again, pushing around the corner much faster than he had.
The upper stairs opened onto a landing that spread out in multiple directions. To our left lay most of the upper floor of the facility, mostly wide open- there was a lot of cover for bad guys to be hiding behind and to shoot as us from, pillars and a few barricades that had been set up, but aside from the steam I could see across to the far wall that bordered the elevator shaft we’d come down in. To the right lay the entrance to a small office, which we pushed into.
Movement!
An explosion of gunfire ripped through the small room as one man fired from our right flank while another stepped out from behind a central pillar that housed a computer data terminal of some form and opened fire as well. Further back and to the left another two men were charging to the doorway near the middle/left of the room from the office beyond, guns up, the nearest firing through the doorway.
Caught from his right flank, his front, and just left of that my partner never stood a chance and went down hard, gun firing angrily as he went, taking the man on the right with him. I fired over his falling body, spraying rounds toward the man in the center of the room and just hoping they connected, diving to my right, into the momentary cover that the data terminal provided me from the men at the doorway.
I landed in a tangled mess with the body of the man that had shot my partner, pushing and scrambling against the blood-slicked floor, continuing my mad push for shelter. I leapt for the rear of the room, past the data terminal, past the man I may or may not have shot, and slammed into the ground sliding on my armor plating and somehow keeping hold of my LMG through the whole ordeal. I snapped a glance at my round counter- 42 bullets left. More than enough if I could get an opportunity to use them. This up-close work was where the LMG was weakest.
By then the men at the doorway were in the room, turning and approaching my corner, likely split up to flank me in a pincer move- it’s what I would have done. I couldn’t see them but I was trapped with no way out.
I leapt to my feet and grabbed a spare magazine from my utility belt, tossed it to my right, then stepped to my left a split second later. The clatter was nothing compared to the roar of gunfire but with your senses on high alert, listening for any little sound to let you know which side of the cover your enemy was about to pop out it sounded like I’d dropped a drawer full of silverware down a flight of stairs.
My gun kicked rapidly into my shoulder as I fired at torso height coming around the corner, admittedly before I had a clear shot. I stepped swiftly out to my left as my muzzle swept right, and in a second I was standing in the room as three bodies slowly crumpled to the ground. I still don’t know how many shots flew in my direction.
For a short time I stood there hyperventilating, sweeping my muzzle back and forth, waiting for the next enemy to appear, trying to figure out which cover to dive for as the smoke wafted around me. Everything in me wanted to go check on the man I’d entered the bunker with but my training had been extremely thorough on that point: clear the threats first, then save the guy on the ground or you’ll just join the guy on the ground. For long seconds I blinked through the sweat, scared and just hoping that I would see them before they would see me…then I reloaded and knelt to check on my partner.
Choking, gasping noises barely made it from his helmet, blood pooled from below his form, I was shocked that he was still breathing in any way- able to make any noise at all. I dropped my FS-9 and tore at his leather helmet, trying to get it out of the way. His wild blue eyes shot around the room in a mad panic as captured blood poured from the helmet I ripped off, smearing up his face and into his hair. Despite the mess I could still see it dribbling from his mouth. Drowning in your own blood because you were in a sealed helmet had not hitherto been one of my phobias but now…
I ripped a Hemozal pen from my belt and plunged it into his arm as an emergency stop-gap measure, then was already drawing my Med Gun (I carry both, convinced they’ll save my life when I’m boarded by pirates) and lining it up on his chest. I wasn’t certified with a Med Gun, I knew nothing about the medicines in them, so I left every setting at default and just pulled the trigger. A beam of green goo shot forth into my downed companion, causing his body to involuntarily spasm and jerk as flesh and bone knitted themselves back together under the guidance of the same regeneration technology that had reshaped so much of society and modern medicine. A meter on the gun ticked up, giving a very rough indication of how healthy the target was. At about 60% it would go no higher.
“Can you speak?” I asked, unsure of where the damage lie.
“I think so…” he croaked slowly, still coughing up the remaining blood but seeming to no longer be actively bleeding. “It hurts.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything for the pain except what’s in the meds already.”
“Why…” he turned and looked up at me with some bewilderment, “why did you save me?”
“Right thing to do.” I said without hesitation, scooping my LMG back up off the ground and making a mental note that I’d need to clean blood off of yet another gun. “Same reason I agreed so readily to come help your sister.”
He was already unsteadily working on climbing to a knee. I bent to assist.
Together, at a much slower pace than before, we set out to continue clearing the facility with me once again taking point. I hefted my LMG once more and pressed onward, deeper into the offices the men had come from, into what appeared to be a server room of some form. If his sister was in this bunker she was running out of places to be stashed away. Regardless, we didn’t encounter any more armed resistance in the room packed with electronic equipment blinking and whirring away, so we turned around and back-tracked back to the top of the stairs, gingerly stepping over the bodies as I did so.
As I came out of the office there was a long straight walkway along the right hand side of the facility that ended with the wall that met the elevator shaft, wrapping around to meet the left hand side. I followed it around, winding my way past lab tables, crates of extraction equipment, tools, and supplies of various sorts, and finally found myself in the entrance of a yellow painted storage area. At the rear of the storage area stood a doorway, partially cracked open. I peered inside.
A brunette woman with deep circles under her eyes and bruises… pretty much everywhere sat tied up in the corner in a small room. Her rumpled clothes were filthy and torn. I felt my jaw tighten.
“I think I found her!” I snapped over my shoulder, then stepped aside.
The man behind me stepped forward and yanked at the doors, tearing them open. The woman inside rolled into a tighter ball in terror in her corner.
“Kat!” he said, his voice breaking with relief and the weight of the enormity of the find.
Her head shot up. “Keltch?” Then her eyes went wide as she saw his blood-covered form. “Oh my God Keltch!”
____________________________________________________________________________
So. His name was Keltch. Hers was Kat. She was able to walk, after a time. Her bruises would heal. The rest would take a lot longer. I felt sickened by what she’d been through, and by what we were about to have to put her through to keep her alive.
I roamed the now-dead facility, moving from body to body, stripping them of any armor that didn’t have bullet holes or wasn’t horrifically soiled by blood or other bodily fluids. It was grim work. Eventually I collected enough- a whole set along with a new chest and helmet for Keltch and brought them back to the siblings on the elevator.
He looked up and nodded in understanding. She looked at me with exhausted eyes, clinging to her humanity.
“Kat…” I started and stopped a couple times, not wanting to spit it out. “We’re on Yela. I’m sorry but you’re going to have to suit up.” The Morningstar helmet in my hands felt heavier than it had a moment before. We all knew she’d be wearing the armor of her captors and torturers.
She just closed her eyes in sorrowful acceptance, which was somehow worse than if she had protested. I left the mis-matched set of armor with an undersuit on the elevator and stepped back around the corner with Keltch to give her privacy.
____________________________________________________________________________
The three of us arrived at the top of the elevator shaft with a lurch and a groan, the light filtering in through the doorways showing that it was still very much daylight outside.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” I said, trying not to sound too brusque and likely failing utterly, “the ship is parked nearly 2 kilometers out because we didn’t want to alert anyone that we were coming. That’s not an issue anymore, so I can go get it and bring it back. Do you trust me to do that or do you want to come with me?”
They both stiffened. I could see the wheels turning behind their masks.
“I’m not getting left behind!” Kat declared.
“I have no intention of going through that,” I gestured underneath us, toward the bunker below, “only to abandon you now.”
Keltch unclasped his hand from his wounded chest. “What about the turret?”
Kat looked alarmed, “Turret?”
I nodded. “Looked like a blind spot to the rear of the building here. I was going to sweep around and land back there. Looked like there was plenty of room.”
“Yeah, but can you do that while it’s shooting at you?” he pressed.
“Can you two make that hike in the condition you’re in?” I asked in response.
Keltch dug in his pockets and produced my keys after a short delay. “Just… don’t leave us on this iceball.”
I nodded sincerely as I took the keys. “I won’t. I promise.”
With that I set out, alone and with nothing to keep me from just… flying away once I got to my ship. I seriously contemplated it as I trudged through the snow toward the crater that held my Cutlass Black, somehow having to fight Yela’s whipping winds both coming and going. In the end I decided against abandoning them- I still had to sleep at night after all. Eventually I crested the rim of the crater and slid down to the Black, toggling the rear loading ramp and making my way back on board. I squeezed past the stacked medical supplies as I heard the rear loading ramp seal shut, then stepped into the ante-room to the cockpit and stowed my larger weapons in the weapons racks, then slung myself into the pilot’s seat and strapped in.
I flicked on the Hydrogen engines and gave my controls and readouts a once over to make sure everything looked normal, then gently eased the throttle up and lifted off out of the snow and ice.
“And… good to go…” I muttered to myself as my ship broke the tethers of gravity.
I switched to forward thrusters and lurched onward, skimming the surface and kicking up plumes of powder in my wake, accelerating almost immediately to SCM speeds. A red light flared to life on my instrument panel as an alarm squawked at me- I had been radar locked. Nearly instantly a red stream of laser bolts poured forth from the bunker’s direction, from the little blue icon of the turret on my HUD.
I punched my upward strafe and rolled to my right, effectively strafing diagonally right while still rocketing forward, causing the stream of laser bolts to shoot underneath my belly as the turret struggled to match my new heading. I slammed it up to full throttle and canceled my upwards momentum, giving full thruster power to slipping forward and to my right through the air while I began to turn my nose to the left to keep it pointed at the bunker, effectively beginning to circle it in a counterclockwise direction as I spiraled in toward it. With a flick of my wrist I rolled the rest of the way over to the right, rolling as the ship wanted to, letting it come to rest not quite level with the horizon, still leaning well to the left to bank into the left hand turn I was now executing. The bunker was directly in front of me, perfectly sideways, and I had a clear shot at its rear exactly as I had hoped. The laser bolts continued to soar around me, first overhead and then behind as I swooped in for a tight landing. I came in hot, nose down, and pulled up at the last moment, leveling off and flaring with a boost to my belly thrusters to soften the landing, then kissing the hard-packed snow around the bunker with my landing skids in a picture perfect touchdown under fire.
I calmly powered down the engines, then unstrapped myself. Time to go pick up the siblings.
Damn I hope they saw that! I mused.
____________________________________________________________________________
As we powered our way past the last grasps of Yela’s gravity well all thoughts turned to what came next. Bloody, bruised, broken messes would raise unwelcome questions most places in the solar system, resulting in at least an arrest for Keltch. The alternative, Grim HEX, was crawling with pirates, bounty targets, criminals, and gangsters- specifically, very likely members of the 9 Tails that were unlikely to merely “arrest” Keltch if they found out who he was and what he’d been up to. Or me for that matter.
Just the same, medical treatment was a necessity, not a luxury, and none of us had the funds for something like Brentworth Care Center on microTech.
Ultimately we decided to risk Grim HEX, because we had few other choices, and because we were already so near to it. The care would be… sub par, the facilities would be like something out of a horror vid, but at least they should patch Keltch back up enough to keep him ticking along for a good long while yet. As for the gangsters and pirates that would quite happily slaughter us, regardless of any rules, laws, or enforcement of those rules or laws, I had an idea there too.
Grim HEX was the amalgamation of several massive asteroids held together by herculean tethers, floating in the middle of a deceptively slow asteroid field surrounding Yela, and by extension, Crusader. There was no such thing as a clear approach, every attempt having to be manually guided in past swirling debris and space rocks, dodging threats that ranged in size from small moons to only a bit larger than a house cat, but even the smaller rocks could still kill you dead if they hit your ship wrong.
My hands were steady on the stick and throttle as I eased us into the asteroid field, spinning to twist us around a larger rock, then reorienting back onto Grim HEX. We were deep in the shadow of Crusader so the whole field was pitch black, asteroids more identified by where the stars weren’t than where the asteroids were. I desperately pinged my radar system, getting blue outlines of returns that gave me an idea of where my surroundings were as I crept forward. To the rear all chatter had stopped- Keltch and Kat were dead silent, eyes glued on the sensitive and dangerous maneuvers.
Bit by bit I gave us thrust, conscious that if we encountered an asteroid I would be among the first to know about it in the worst way, lights on but utterly ineffectual in the umbral black surrounding us. Eventually the bulky mass of Grim HEX grew unmistakable before me in my radar returns, but I maintained my navigation system this time- it was extremely handy to know how far out I was, ability to ping and scan or not. I rolled again, dodging a smaller spinning asteroid and aligning with my target before attempting to hail Air Traffic Control. They responded with a burst of static, but the icons on my HUD changed as the ship performed the handshake with the station on the backend and I received permission to land. I idly wondered when they’d get their radio tech fixed all the way, then remembered that it was Grim HEX I was thinking about and was just grateful that it had worked at all.
I cautiously strafed around the bulk of the massive pop-corn kernel shape until I got to the open end, where the hangars sat recessed and somewhat protected, and barely managed to twitch and dodge a sleek Origin M50 in handsome gray and red paint that shot out from the hangars without warning as I crested the rim.
That would have been an annoying end! I thought to myself in frustration as I lined up with what I assumed was “down.” Keltch and Kat murmured something to each other behind me but I couldn’t make it out over my concentration.
The hangar doors finished parting before me and I brought us in for a gentle landing, then left the siblings aboard while I made my way inside and to Skutters, the outfitter’s shop on Grim HEX.
Grim HEX stood in stark contrast to every other space station I’d ever had experience with, and at this point I’d seen several around the system. Where their walls were normally sterile steel, Grim HEX was rough hewn and unfinished rock. Where maintenance was a top priority for them, Grim HEX treated it as an annoyance best left for the last possible moment. Where safety was actually acknowledged by them, Grim HEX viewed annoying regulations as unnecessary and cumbersome and didn’t bother with such things. I was frankly shocked that it functioned.
I took the exceedingly swift elevator down to the Main Concourse, then stepped through the cluttered, unevenly lit walkway toward the bar, thankful that my helmet was filtering out the smells. I would never forget the stench of rotting garbage and unwashed humanity that hung heavy in the atmosphere here. I stepped into the bar and glanced for a second at the transparent wall that gave an unparalleled view of the asteroid field and of the races that would be held in it. Of course right now it was just a sea of blackness, but I’d witnessed it at full glory and it was truly a sight to behold. At the opposite end of the bar from my entrance stood a door with a crooked OPEN sign above it, my destination.
Skutter’s sold me two black undersuits and matching helmets for a reasonable price (I hoped to make it back selling my cargo at CRU-L1), which I took back with me and gave to the siblings, then all three of us made our way to the medical facilities no longer looking like 9 Tails members at all.
The facilities were as bad as predicted. Blood smeared the check in terminal that I had to use to get a room for us. Heaps of bloody rags and cast off medical waste lay piled along the corridors, just outside the rooms themselves. The lighting was dim and uneven where present, and screams echoed through the hallways.
We quickly slipped inside our room (Floor 2, Room 4) and closed the door, blocking off most of the sound and giving us a chance to breathe in relative privacy. Kletch, despite being the most injured and requiring immediate medical assistance, insisted that his sister use the bed first. I respected that.
She lay down and interacted with the terminal that came to hover over her on a mechanical arm, then retracted to get out of the way. Multiple arms folded out of the bed and zipped back and forth over her, pulsing healing light as they knit her back together in the physical sense. As she rolled back out of bed I could tell she felt better already- the bruises on her face, visible through her helmet, had nearly entirely disappeared. With that she firmly insisted that Kletch use the bed promptly.
He gingerly lowered himself onto the bed and went through the same process of interacting with the terminal, only this time the healing process took significantly longer. He groaned as the arms flashed overhead, doing their medical work unflinchingly. Eventually they retreated, folding away back into the frame from whence they’d deployed and he swung his legs off the edge of the bed, obviously much, much healthier.
“Doing better?” Kat asked sweetly.
Kletch nodded emphatically. “Doesn’t feel like I’ve got holes in my chest anymore.”
“Good!” Kat and I said in unison.
“Can I see your helmet?” She asked.
“Uh… sure…” he said, unbuckling the neck seal and slipping it off, then handing it over to her. “What’s wrong with it?”
“With it?” she said, accepting the helmet “nothing.” Then she swung it with all her might.
Kletch never saw it coming. I heard bone and nose crunch. I saw fresh squirts of blood. Keltch rolled over, hands up to his broken face, half yelling and half screaming.
“What the fuck is the matter with you?!” she hollered, swinging the helmet again, bouncing it off his left arm, hard enough to hurt and bruise, but not break bone. “You walk out on us for a decade and this, THIS is how you walk back into our lives? I was going to die!”
A muffled, gurgled, “I’m sowwy!” echoed out through cupped hands and blood but the profanities and assault didn’t let up. Frankly, I couldn’t blame her.
Ah, siblings. I thought.
I carefully backpedaled and slipped out the door into the hallway, closing it behind me. It sounded like what they needed was a little time to themselves, even if Kletch really didn’t want it at the moment. Muffled sounds of their, “conversation” filtered out into the hall. I decided to give them a bit more privacy than that and made my way to the elevator, then back down to the entrance to the medical area. As far as I was concerned our business was concluded, but abandoning them in Grim HEX with no armor, money, or weaponry seemed like… well, it would have been kinder just to shoot them both in the bunker and be done with it.
______________________________________________________________________________
With a parting, “Good luck,” I instead left them on Port Olisar, with enough cash for a ride back to Orison, Kat’s home, and departed once more on my journey to CRU-L1 to sell my medical supplies and hopefully come close to breaking even.
Ambitious Dream Station, locked in at the Lagrange Point, looked to me like a fat spider that had been squished, with its arms awkwardly jutting out at every angle from the central ring body. I pulled into the hangars without difficulty and touched down gently, then made my way through the station to the admin office to sell my goods.
“Shit kid, should have been here 15 minutes ago.” The heavy man behind the counter looked at me sympathetically. “C2 just came through and stocked us up for a month. But uh… good luck.”
I shook my head, “It’s just a Black, surely you’ve got room for a few more SCU?”
The man shrugged, “Maybe we have the room, but we don’t need the supplies. Sorry, kid. Only business I got for you is scrap and waste, and that’s outbound.”
I nodded. No sense in arguing. I wasn’t going to win. “Thanks for your time.” I said, turning on my heel and walking for the door.
Within minutes I was off again, soaring into the void, calculating my jump toward CRU-L2, just on the other side of Crusader, then watching the stars rip past in their rainbow dance of quantum distortion.
So… I thought to myself as I settled comfortably into my seat for the journey, that was a bunker…
This is a work of fan fiction. All characters, places, events, ships, and ship designs, and other content originating from Star Citizen, Squadron 42, or other content produced or created by its publishers or developers, are the property of Cloud Imperium Rights LLC and Cloud Imperium Rights Limited.