Wren squinted and read on. “The firm is shrouded in mystery and scandal. Known for employing unconventional means—escaping government jurisdictions and facing multiple infractions in both ethics and tax evasion.”
“Sounds just like our kind of guys.” I laughed. “Dead guys I bet now, unless they built some longevity serum.”
“No, afraid not. Afraid the company hasn’t been active for centuries.”
At one time, it had been formidable, now its defensive cannons had been blown to bits or ripped off by scavengers. A gaping hole loomed in its side, allowing a shadowy glimpse into the docking hangar. I motioned Noss to steer us in closer, my eyes peeled for anything untoward.
I guessed Cyber Corp maintained an extensive empire at one time, perched at the edge of The Dim Zone. Maybe their fingers had dug too deep in the pie? Found something they wished they hadn’t? What had they been fucking with?
Once inside the hangar hole, I trained Bantam’s floodlamps down to see what we were dealing with. Noss guided the ship through the darkness. Alastar followed behind. We saw a brood of lurking spaceships. Ancient models—Phasons, KV-Levlars with odd, sleek, tapered outerbodies like the V-Ugons of old. Odd that nobody’s taken them, I thought. Vintage. Fly on, Rusco. Maybe the station’s unsavory reputation would detract any avid raiders from taking a crack at us. But why go after small fry when you could have a whole squad of ships? There were lots here. Though some had drifted from their landing berths, chipped and battered, looking not so lucky in their fight against the ravages of time.
“Those ships aren’t chained down,” said Noss. “Artificial grav generators still functioning. A miracle after all this time.”
“Yeah, fancy that.”
The hangar loomed in all its glory. I was impressed by the sheer size of it. Could fit a mountain in here. We traveled through the warehouse of the station and landed at the end of a line of ancient craft that looked like antediluvian freighters. Carrying what?
Wren punched some keys and a green, wireframe grid appeared. It rotated on the holo display to show more bays and hidden alcoves.
“Turns out this station has been a hazard for salvagers and scavengers for centuries.”
“Great, a motherload of bad karma.” I chewed on my lip. “But maybe it’s just the type of place we need—”
Two Skgurian vessels came streaking in from the entrance. The first ship’s fire hit us broadside.
“Motherfuckers,” rasped Blest. His fist clenched his rifle.
They’d been hiding on the outside of the station’s superstructure, stuck there like leeches, blending in like grey-green lichen on a tree’s trunk. If we’d been able to warp in here earlier, we could at least have saved Alastar and maybe our own skins.
“We can’t warp out,” said Noss. “Trapped in this goddamn creepy hangar.”
“How to evade these asslicking fuckwads?” I mused.
“Fight our way out. What else?” Blest howled.
“No, too many of them. They’ll blow us to shit.” I saw two more come in to join their pals as more fire splatter licked out at us. “We’ve got two ships running on impulse power. Useless. We take them out there, they’ll pepper us with bombs. We have to do the unexpected.”
“Like what?”
“Dump Bantam and take our guns and go in on foot. We can hole up and ambush them in some cubbyhole in the station.”
Blest stared at me as if I were loony. “What? Take on a small army of Skugs?”
“They’ll never find us in this maze. At least easily. Even if they do, we’ll gun them down—and it’ll be better odds for us.”
“Great,” said Noss. “We go in there, get blown up and charcoaled by laser trip beams.”
Blest gave his head a laughing shake. “It’s just crazy enough to work.”
I got them rushing down to the cargo bay while I stayed behind to reach in the utility bulkhead and grab the silver phaso I stashed there. That slim little silver disc had saved my ass before, the same device ‘friend’ Mong and his goats had been after since the beginning. Why the freak wanted it, I wasn’t so sure. A powerful artifact of ancient alien technology: it could transport an unwary being to hell and back, or if one was lucky, to some other alien dimension. No easy way of getting back from there unless the disc was clutched with fierce force in one’s hand, not so easy. I’d been there once and did not care to return. I was damned if I’d leave it for the Skugs to find.
I caught up with them in the hall leading to the hold. Follee tugged at my arm. “But won’t they take the ship?” he stammered.
“They might, Fol, but there’s a chance they won’t. I’ll rig some explosives on the hatch, that or give them a mother of an electric shock if they touch it plus something extra for Sunday brunch.”
“What if they blow the hatch—?”
“For Christ sakes, Blest, get your ass moving and shut the fuck up for once. These scavengers don’t seem to be after ships. Didn’t you see the row of them all sitting here?”
“That’s because they’re dead.”
“Could’ve scavenged them for parts though. Why didn’t they?”
“It’s a bad idea, Rusco.” Blest shook his head.
“You got a better idea?”
Wren waved a hand. “Let’s just hurry up for fuck’s sake! We’re wasting time.”
Blest grunted in resignation.
“Suit up!” I growled.
We grabbed the reserve pressure suits off the wall, snugged in and checked each other’s helms and air supplies. Follee’s face was green with apprehension in the dim lights, reluctant to move toward the cargo hatch. “I don’t want to go, Rusco,” he pleaded through his mask.
“You want to stay back here, Fol, and get mauled by mutants? Or blown to shit?”
Fire hit our port stern but our shields held. Follee cringed at the idea,
