Vincent managed a half chuckle but was red-faced enough by the end of the night of carousing that he was slurring his words.
Regers grunted. “Enough for you. I’m cutting you off titty and booze.” He slapped Vincent’s cheeks. “Celebration’s over. All of you!” He pushed Vincent aside who hung off his shoulder, slobbering like a baby. “Back to the ship. The hour’s old. Time to get back to work.”
Chapter 6
It was a long haul to The Dim Zone. They had plenty of time to dry out, jettison their costumes and recuperate their wits. Nonetheless, Regers was leery about heading to Remus, knowing full well the horrors that haunted this region of space. He had only to remember how Albatross, his last ship, had been boarded by Zikri squids that stormed them on the bridge and wiped out most of the crew. Zikri—those octopus-like aliens with motilators that could navigate like walking creatures did and could squeeze the life out of one—grotesque creatures who commanded pirate Orbs, and scavenged ships and stole whatever technology they could, from space stations, floating junk, weapons grids, and abandoned bases. They worked in collusion with the Mentera, the locust race who enslaved man, woman and alien in glass tanks and fed off their life force via some infathomable technology, keeping their victims alive in a state of suspended animation.
Regers had no idea what to expect on Remus, this middle planet of the Dizon system, boasting a dwarf star and dim amber sun.
Xaromar came out of light drive and approached the dim grey planet.
“Full shields. Yellow alert,” Regers muttered. “Creib, keep your eyes peeled for hostiles. Jennings, Ramra, the same. Deakes and Vincent, keep weapons at full kill capacity.”
“Aye, aye.” Grunts of acknowledgement came Regers’ way.
“Atmosphere’s not breathable,” said Creib. “A cold mix of methane, ozone and traces of unstable hydrocarbons.”
A dawn’s glimmer of burnt orange crept over the alien landscape from the distant sun. Much different topography, yet the terrain gave Regers eerie deja-vu of planet Xeses where he and Yul had first harvested the alien plants that so interested Mathias and his research scientists.
A jumble of Mars-like rocks greeted the crew and low black, obsidian outcrops with ghostly plains in between. A desolate world. Why Hresh had picked such a shit-dismal place far from civilized worlds for his research was beyond him—but then, Hresh was an eccentric, according to Dez, who knew only mad schemes and esoteric sciences. Who knew what twisted ideas ran through that brainiac geek’s mind? Hresh had worked for Cyber Corp—that was telling enough. From what Regers’d heard, Hresh’d gotten on the wrong side of company policy and incurred Mathias’s wrath by going on the lam. Regers stroked his chin. Mathias must have tracked Hresh down, turned up unannounced and gotten a rude surprise.
He curled his thin lip. Served the fucker right. But it didn’t help his own situation in terms of getting full payment and restitution from Mathias for his injuries. Unless he milked Dez for all he was worth. Not a bad plan. Another return to Mekeroid or similar scumhole and a double draw of company funds.
A blip showed up on the holo screen. The ship skimmed over the broken landscapes and approached the planet’s only settlement—the one that had to be Hresh’s hideaway.
Zikri war Orbs lay scattered in ruin—large hulking derelicts with bent spikes on the outside like prickly blowfish. Crumpled mantis-like Mentera craft ranged alongside, twisted and broken from heavy cannon fire. A full-scale war had broken out here—only charred leftovers remained, suited bodies, twisted metal. A huge, rectangular complex, likely Hresh’s installation, lay shredded in heaps of blackened metal. The adjoining hangar was also destroyed.
Regers paused, chewing his lip. The ship glided over the rubble on low thrust, each man gazing with awe, drawing his own conclusions. The base was utterly destroyed. What was once Hresh’s highly-advanced, hi-tech research lab lay in crumbled ruin.
The lightfighter passed between twin bent control towers then past an upright mechnobot, a hulking inert shape, intact in the middle of the dusky yard. The thing, shaped like an armored tank standing on its end, rose easily two stories high. “What in shit’s name is that?” muttered Regers in a dark voice. “Looks untouched.”
“Beats me,” said Deakes.
“It’s Hresh’s handiwork,” responded Dez in a hoarse whisper. “A new breed of mechnobots… Incredible.”
“Those are the marks of heavy duty fire all around, Regers,” Ramra muttered. “Zikri war ships. Which indicates Uro bombs.”
“I can see that, Ramra. No need for the report.”
Regers’ eyes scanned the surroundings. Low hills curved out in an S-shape to flank the complex. No vegetation that he could see, only masses of wholesale destruction, toppled barrels and ripped open shipping crates and crumpled heaps of machinery on the hill side, framing them all in a sinister U.
The shadowy derelict of a mechnobot stirred—a pilot light flared to sudden blue life on its hideous turret. Impossible. His eyes must be screwed on wrong. In slow synchrony, the mechno vibrated and rose up to the level of their LV3 lightfighter as if spurred by some eerie force of intelligence.
Regers’ jaw dropped. It was as if it were scouting out the incoming vessel in curiosity, not threat.
“What the flaming—? What powers the thing?”
The grotesque vehicle jetted closer to the ship’s belvedere as the crew watched in stunned silence.
The ship, or whatever the thing was, suddenly lurched as if concluding Xaromar and its crew were hostile, for a robotic appendage spurred out of the armored fuselage, a cannon of sorts, that began spurting fire at Xaromar.
The ship’s shields flared. A porthole opened. A giant winged insect, more dragonfly than moth, flashed out of the black aperture high on the outerbody with a deft thrust of colored wings.
Regers choked out a yell. What the fuck?
