“Commander, McReidy here,” thetense voice came over John’s communicator.
“Go ahead,” John answered.
“You’re not alone. We’ve pickedup life forms in your area.”
“Where from?”
“I don’t know. There’s no signof any ship. They just appeared.”
“Okay… Keep a lock on us.” Hespoke to Gillespie and Kowalski. “Hurry up, we’ve got company.” He headedback to the hatch to keep a lookout. He switched his torch off and clipped itto his belt before ducking his head out, then pulled it back immediately as aweapon blast skimmed past him. “McReidy, get –”
“Wait, I’m not finished,”Kowalski called, his voice echoing in the dark, beams of light spotting fromthe bridge.
Gillespie joined John at thehatch. They pulled their phasers out and returned fire, ducking back behindcover as shots cracked against the fuselage and shook the framework. As Johnpeeped out, he couldn’t find an enemy and had to judge his shots from thedirection of fire. Kowalski’s position was protected and he continued workingin safety. It would only take a few minutes to finish stripping.
After a short while, thenewcomers stopped firing. It took John a moment to realise.
“Wait,” he whispered, putting hishand on Gillespie’s weapon arm.
Gillespie lowered his phaser andthey listened.
Through the quiet, John couldmake out voices – familiar voices. His face screwed up. “They’ve got Red andthe others.”
“Come out,” a foreign voicefloated in. “We have your companions.”
John thought quickly. “Kowalski,stay. McReidy’ll get you out when you’ve finished,” he whispered. “Allright,” he called out loudly. “We’re coming.”
“Weapons first.”
John tossed his phaser throughthe hatch. Gillespie was reluctant. John glared.
“I’d rather –” began Gillespie.
“Just do it!” John hissed.
Gillespie relented and tossed hisphaser out.
“Come out slowly.”
John raised his hands above hishead and peered outside, his eyes darting to the shadows. Every muscle wastensed, ready to react to whatever he saw. The three engineers were kneelingin the open with their hands on their heads, a weapon pointed at their heads.
Their captors were of averageheight, with a short soft fur that appeared to cover their whole bodies, apartfrom their faces. They wore sleeveless jackets, pants and boots, all of whichappeared to be made from a soft leather. Their facial skin appeared soft, thehair trimmed short and kept well clear. The leader had an eye patch over hisright eye.
“You’re not patrol guards,” Johnremarked, slowly dropping his hands.
A weapon pressed into the base ofhis skull, and the warm breath and presence behind him iced his blood. Hehadn’t seen or heard any approach. He did, however, hear Gillespie’s sharpintake of breath.
“I didn’t say you could put yourhands down,” the leader spoke.
His hands rose again.
“We are Skarens. You are…human.” The statement was made with a hint of distrust.
“Yes,” John answered.
“This is not your part of thegalaxy. Why are you here?”
“We need parts for out ship.”
This statement sent the Skarensinto a flurry. They began talking wildly in their own language; the translatorin John’s communicator unable to keep up.
The leader hushed them and turnedback to John. “My companions say you rob us of our living. I should kill younow… Tell me why I shouldn’t.”
The weapon twitched at the baseof John’s skull.
“We only want what our shipneeds.”
“You lie! All humans lie!”
It was obvious to John that theseSkarens were scavengers. They made their living by trading whatever was of anyuse. Great. Their only experience of humans were black marketeers.
“Commander,” McReidy interrupted,“patrol heading your way. Fast.”
“You left a line open?” Theleader’s eye opened wide.
The translator missed the nextword but they all clearly heard, “Get them out of here.”
“Turn off your communicationdevice,” the leader ordered.
“Get Kowalski,” was John’s lastcommand before he obeyed and switched off his communicator.
“If you value your life, run!”
Red, Wright and Rodgers werehauled to their feet and slung in the direction of the nearest cover. Johnlooked up as a spotlight wandered across the ground and towards the wreckedtransport, then he quickly raced after the Skaren leader, ducking and weavingthrough rock and wreckage alike. A second spotlight joined the first, crossingpaths and spreading their reach.
John lost track of the Skaren andstopped to see where he might have gone. A hand reached out and grabbed hissleeve, pulling him to the ground, and he rolled under the shadow of ashattered engine jet as the light passed over it.
A hand clamped across his mouthand the strong smell of sweat hit his nostrils. After a few moments, thelights passed and the hand pulled away.
“Voice is movement.”
John nodded his understanding,then tensed as the words were in clear English and hadn’t come through histranslator. A push to his back and he rolled cautiously out from under theengine. He stood up and looked around for the others but the moon was silent.
He spun around to face theSkaren, whose eye was on the sky.
“We must be careful of thepatrols.” Again, the Skaren used English. “Where there is money to be made,there is always someone who wants their share.”
John looked up as an approachingcraft skimmed low, whistling through the atmosphere. Spotlights arced acrossthe surface of the moon, lighting up shadows. He pressed back against thefuselage and held his breath, wondering if Bismarck was in any danger.
The craft passed and he breathedagain
“Why did you help us?” Johnwondered.
“You are not professionalraiders. You are not very good at it.”
“The uniform didn’t give itaway?” John queried.
“Some of the lowest scum in thegalaxy wear uniforms.”
It was hard not to agree, butJohn couldn’t help taking the comment personally and his eyes loweredinvoluntarily.
The Skaren laughed when he sawthis. “I am Keel Roppa.”
“Commander John Madison.” Johnwas relieved as the others began to appear out of the gloom. “You speakEnglish well.”
“It is wise to learn thelanguages of those who cannot be trusted. That way, there are nomisunderstandings. What do you need?”
“What do you want in return?”
A wry smile broke across Roppa’sface. “That depends on the value.”
John sighed and looked to hiscrew. They needed the parts; that was all there was to it. He reeled off alist. Roppa sent his men out.
“They will be a while. So,Commander Madison, we have time to… get to know each other. Is that thecorrect term?”
“Yes, it is.”
Roppa began to walk a littledistance. John followed,
