Omega Force 5: Return of the Archon (4 page)

"Is that the only reason?" Jason prodded.

"I find it to be a satisfying experience."

"You can say it, Lucky," Jason laughed. "You thought it looked fun so you decided to give it a try ... and it was fun."

"That is as good a term as any," Lucky admitted. "And yes, piloting the ship during the race was as
fun
as I had hoped it would be after all my simulation time."

"Well then, hop into the copilot seat and we can take turns running though these sims," Jason said. "This first one is mostly intra-atmospheric and the terrain randomizes after each run. We can do this for a bit and then start adding targets."

After an hour, Jason was impressed with how naturally Lucky adapted to the ever-changing simulations. Two hours after that and he was hard-pressed to keep ahead of him.

"Oh, holy shit, that smells bad," Jason choked out as the ramp descended. The air from Colton Hub wafting into the cargo bay was enough to make his stomach do a back flip. "Okay ... we all remember the rules, right? No unnecessary fighting, stealing, or cheating. Actually, don't do any of those things at all."

"Don't worry about me, Captain," Kage said in a muffled voice as he covered his nose and mouth with his smaller pair of hands while the other two waved at the air in front of him. "I'm not going out there. I'll be here enjoying the filtered and recirculated air aboard the ship if you need me." As he turned and left, Doc also followed him back into the ship without a word.

"This has got to be brutal for you," Twingo said to Crusher. "It smells like raw sewage in here, and your sense of smell is so incredibly delicate." When Crusher just turned to stare at him, he pressed on. "Does it bother you that in order to smell something, tiny particles of it actually need to go into your nose and embed into the receptor? Just think, that means when you smell—"

"Twingo," Jason snapped. "Leave him alone." In truth, Jason also would rather not think about what may be pulled into his body with each breath he took. He considered going back for a rebreather for a moment, shrugged it off, and descended the ramp with the remaining three of his crew in tow.

The
Phoenix
was parked in a hangar that had three other similarly sized ships fanned out across the deck, each parking berth sharing the one hangar door. Jason was always uneasy leaving his ship hooked up to an external docking arm if he was leaving for any length of time under the best of circumstances, but the looks of the docking complex branching away from Colton Hub had convinced him to pony up the credits for a hangar berth.

The station was a huge, sprawling facility that, like most platforms over a century old, looked like a hodgepodge of ill-conceived and hastily completed construction efforts. What made it unique was that it wasn't anchored in a star system, it sat motionless in interstellar space. It had started as a refueling depot a few hundred years prior when the larger ships didn't have the legs to make it across the Colton Expanse, a region of empty space that sat between the core worlds and the fringe settlements, without exhausting their fuel supply.

Once the big ships had slip-drives that were as efficient as the smaller, faster ships, the station fell into disuse and, inevitably, the criminal element moved in. A lack of any governmental oversight in deep space helped that immensely. The most distinguishing physical feature of the station was the "crown" of mangled, jagged alloy at the top. That was all that remained of the section that once housed the actual refueling arms. As legend had it, a frigate-class ship escaped a firefight by jumping into slip-space, unaware that their real-space flight systems were damaged. When the ship exited slip-space, it was on a collision course for the station and ended up shearing off the entire top section, killing all on board both the ship and those station decks.

Jason personally thought that entire story was bullshit. Who jumps into slip-space unaware that they have no ability to navigate their ship? Given the shoddy maintenance everywhere else on the station, and coupled with the fact most starships used liquid hydrogen for fuel in their antimatter reactors, he figured the refueling booms were most likely detached by a massive explosion down in the pumping station that used to be housed right where the "crown" now sat.

Regardless of how true the story was or not, it did serve as a reminder that there were dangers on the facility that didn't necessarily relate to the bottom feeders that inhabited it. They were just one faulty seal away from explosive decompression at any time aboard the dilapidated hulk. It was certainly a motivating factor in trying to scrounge up a lead on a job and get back aboard the pristinely maintained gunship.

"So what are we looking for?" Crusher asked as he looked at the passing foot traffic with disdain.

"The usual," Jason said, also keeping an eye on the crowd. "Someone who doesn't belong." Crusher simply grunted at this and continued his scrutiny as they strolled along the main promenade. The tactic had been Jason's idea originally, something he had picked up from being deployed in third-world hovels and observing human behavior. It was surprisingly simple; look for people who stood out for the wrong reasons. For starters, they would have the wrong clothes for a station inhabited by cutthroat pirates and smugglers. Then there was the look that seemed to transcend all species in their situation: the slow dawning of realization of the sheep that wanders into the lion's den.

These types had usually exhausted all options and were now looking to outside help to solve their problem. Omega Force had picked up contracts on at least a dozen occasions where they were asked to ferret out packs of raiders or narco-gangs that were terrorizing one small settlement or the other. Often these infestations simply had to be eradicated, something Jason and the boys were more than happy to help with. After being the small town bully for so long, many of these groups were hopelessly unprepared for the level of violence the small mercenary crew would bring to bear. The smart ones ran. Those that didn't were no longer around to cause any further trouble.

Jason's "lost sheep" method worked so well, in fact, that they were even funneling taskings to Crisstof's group for the times when a little bit of political pressure would be far more effective than a thermobaric warhead. Given the predatory nature of mercenaries in general, he figured he was doing them a great service by identifying them first. Some of the crews he was walking among wouldn't hesitate to kill off the problem, take what they had, and then take everything the contract holders had as well.

They walked past the usual smattering of beggars and con artists before coming upon a dirty and emaciated little girl of a species Jason thought he had seen before, but couldn't name off the top of his head. She was holding a scrawled sign that read, "Please help. Family stranded. Have credits." He stopped and looked down at her while her eyes darted fearfully between Crusher and Lucky.

"How did you get stranded?" Jason asked her in Jenovian Standard.

"The ship we were on left us here when we all got off while it was being repaired," she said quietly. "There are six of us and we just need to get back home."

"Where are you from?"

"Um ... Kellariss-2," she said. The hesitation didn't go unnoticed.

"Wow, you’re a long way from home," Jason said. "Where were you going?"

"I don't know," she said plaintively. "My parents just said we have to leave. Can you help us?"

"Maybe. Where are your parents?"

"Back in one of the service corridors that lead to the auxiliary docking complex. My mother is not well and they didn't want to stress her by bringing her to the main galleria," the girl said, already standing and folding her sign up.

"Let's go talk to them and maybe we can work something out," Jason said, gesturing for her to lead the way.

"Captain," Twingo called, "I'm going to head down two levels to where all the scrap hawks hang out, see what I can find."

"Okay," Jason nodded. "Lucky, go with him." The battlesynth broke off and followed Twingo thorough the crowd on their way to see what hardware may be available for trade or outright purchase. Jason knew Twingo just liked poking around the shops and talking to the other engineers. Most of the parts were recovered salvage and not anything Twingo would ever consent to installing on "his" ship. As the pair left, Jason noticed the little girl's mouth compress into a tight grin as she turned and headed off in the other direction. "Stay loose," he muttered to Crusher over his shoulder as they followed her away from the main bulk of the crowd.

"Always."

They wove their way off the promenade and down a side corridor that looked like service access to the shops. They moved past all of this and Jason watched his guide walk quickly and confidently through the litter-strewn passage. After a few hundred meters, she veered off to take another, smaller passage that curved downward into the lower levels. He was keenly aware of the walls closing in as well as the dim, sputtering light barely cutting through the gloom.

The smells of industrial lubricant and hot electronics wafted over him as they pressed further into the tight service tunnels. They hadn't seen another being for at least five minutes and were now well away from any of the main gathering places on the station. He switched his ocular implant over to a mix of mid-wave infrared and low-light amplification as the weak lighting seemed to become more sparse the further they went. Behind him Crusher was
chuffing
as he drew in the scents around him to analyze his surroundings. The little girl, now silent, looked over her shoulder more and more often to make sure they were still following before slowing her pace.

"So ... where is your family staying?" Jason asked conversationally.

"I'm not sure where they went," she said softly.

"Are you about finished with this game?" Jason asked. "For future reference, children don't usually know about auxiliary docking complexes, but not the world they're travelling to." The childlike mannerisms dropped immediately, and the alien reached up under her tunic. Jason drew his own sidearm in the blink of an eye and leveled it at her.

"Don't. So, how many victims have you lured down here with this little con you're running?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," it laughed, the voice now deeper and gravelly. Jason tilted his head in surprise at the sudden change. "Now!" the alien shouted.

Before he could react, a section of pipe swung down on his wrist, sending pain lancing up his arm and his blaster clattering to the floor. From behind the nearest support columns, a burly sqroro, a heavy-grav species, and a heavily muscled saurian came at him from both sides, the sqroro still holding the pipe.

He was dimly aware of Crusher snarling and the sounds of a struggle behind him as he ducked the pipe being swung at his head. Something was wrong though. They seemed to be moving too slowly and his ears were filled with the sound of rushing air. As the pipe whizzed overhead, he sent a tight punch out to the sqroro's thick torso and was surprised when he heard a gasp of pain and saw the alien dropping to a knee. Jason planted on the ball of his right foot and pushed off, driving forward while bringing his right fist around, aiming for the sqroro's head before he could get back up.

There was the crack of his fist connecting with the other's head and then the heavy alien was flung down the corridor to where he lay, bleeding profusely, likely fatally, from the horrific head wound.
There's no way I hit him that hard.
Before he could turn to get a bead on his other assailant, an impossibly strong, scaly arm snaked around his neck and pulled his head up while the saurian's other hand tried to reach the top of his head to pull it backwards. Jason couldn't get the angle to bring his elbows into play to try and dislodge his attacker, so he leaned back and literally ran up the wall of the tight corridor, using the saurian for leverage.

When his body was parallel to the deck, and with the saurian still hanging on for dear life, Jason launched himself backwards with all the strength he could muster. Again, he was unprepared for the results. He launched them backwards through the air with such force that when they hit the far bulkhead there was a sickening crunch and the arms around his neck went slack. He rolled over and came to his feet to see where Crusher was.

The big warrior was holding another wriggling saurian at arm's length, staring at Jason with a slack-jawed look of shock.

"Uh, Crusher," Jason said. "Are you going to do anything with that one?"

"Huh?" Crusher asked. "Oh ... yeah." He planted the alien on the deck and shoved him hard into the far bulkhead. When the dazed saurian came back at him, Crusher met him halfway with his elbow, delivering a devastating blow to the head that dropped the alien instantly. Jason bent, retrieved his blaster, and looked around.

"I know you're still here. I can see you," Jason called out. He couldn't really, but it never hurt to bluff.

"I'm not armed," the scratchy voice said as the "little girl" stepped from around a column. "If you knew this was a trap, why did you follow me down here?"

"It's sort of my thing," Jason said. "Can't have you running free and preying on helpless travelers." The alien laughed uproariously at that.

"Do you have any idea where you are? All there is here is predators. Do you plan to take us all out one by one?"

"Nah, you were just convenient," Jason said. "So ... about those other victims. How long have you been running this spider trap?"

"Long enough to have my appearance altered to look like this," the alien said. "It's not like we waylaid anyone important. Just broke settlers and freighter crews too dumb to stay up on the main levels. Look, I've got quite a bit of loot hidden away. Maybe we can work something out."

"These settlers and spacer crews," Jason drawled, "I'm guessing they weren't allowed to go on their way once you relieved them of their property."

"What do you think?"

Jason didn't bother answering. He raised the blaster and fired straight into the alien's chest, sending it rolling over backwards twice before coming to a stop in a crumpled heap. The acrid smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils as he turned to look at Crusher.