Countdown by John Walker (feel good fiction books txt) 📗

“What if we don’t like what you’ve got to say?”

“Then I’ll toss you some creds for a refuel and get the hell off your planet.” Zem sighed. “Christ, what the hell happened out here that you’re so nervous?”

“Don’t worry about it. Land at pad three. You’re cleared. We’ll be there waiting. Only you come out of there. You can talk to us right away and I’ll see if you’re worth a damn. You got it?”

“Whatever. Shit, no wonder this place seems deserted. Your hospitality is crap.”

“Yeah, well… we’re cautious. And if this works out, you’ll appreciate it. Biggun out.” The line went dead.

“Okay then.” Dora altered course, heading for the designated area. “Shouldn’t be long now, Zem. I’d like to know what your plan is.”

“Shoot people,” Zem replied. “It’ll work out okay.” He stepped out of the room. “Thanks, Dora!”

Ronnie pinged her from the engine room. “Hey, are we landing?”

“Yeah,” Dora replied, “stay put down there. Lock the door. Just in case, okay?”

“That bad?”

“Probably worse.” Dora zeroed in on the flashing IR picked up by her HUD. That was the pad they were after. “I don’t want you in any danger. You’re wearing the pistol I told you to, right?”

“Yep. Not exactly convenient down here but I know why.”

“Good. Keep it close and ready.”

Though if she and I need guns, we’re in more trouble than I want to pull myself out of. She thought back to the pirates who boarded the ship on a previous mission. I’m not going through that again. We’ll find another way… but then again, with the people I’ve got on board, I probably shouldn’t be so worried.

***

Torrence stood in the cargo bay with her rifle slung. She pulled at the neck part of her armor. The MerCon variety fit incredibly well… so much so that it clung to her skin, chafing her neck and causing her a low level of discomfort. Fussing at it seemed to make it worse, but she couldn’t stop scratching.

“Knock it off,” Nostros said. “You’ll get a rash. Put your helmet on before we land.”

“Isn’t this bothering you?” Torrence asked. She gestured at his pants. “I know it’s got to be compressing your junk something fierce.”

“My junk’s fine.” Nostros shook his head. “Seriously, you need to relax.”

“Whatever.” Torrence picked up the helmet as McCully came in. “What’s up, Cap?”

“Nice.” McCully rolled her eyes. “We’re about to get into some shit. You two look ready.” She picked up her helmet. “I’m pretty sure this maniac plans on blasting whoever happens to be at the base of this ramp so… keep that in mind.”

“Yeah, he’s pissed.” Torrence shrugged. “What can you do? This is a shitty situation. And Rita’s a friend so… I’m willing to go along with it.”

“She’s not even here,” McCully pointed out. “So whatever we do won’t exactly be helpful.”

“You’ll see,” Zem called out. “We’re on. Take positions behind the cargo containers. I’ll get them in your line of sight. On my signal, open fire.”

“What’s your signal?” Torrence asked.

“I’ll pull out my pistol and shoot Biggun.”

“Just like that?” Nostros asked. “I expected an answer of something like… you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Nah, I don’t want any confusion. Anyway, I’m going to stun that prick. We need him. The others, feel free to kill. Save us the trouble of finding out they can withstand a shock.” He grabbed hold of the safety guard by the door as the ship slowed. “We take this place and we’re on the road to finding Rita. Remember that. It’s our only objective.”

“Hey,” Torrence held up her hands, “we’re not in this for the glory or the money so we get it.” She stepped away, taking a knee behind a crate, one nearest to the loading ramp. McCully went opposite her. Nostros took the high ground, going prone on the stairs leading to the crew area.

Dora put the ship down masterfully, causing barely more than a gentle rumble as the hydraulics absorbed the weight. Zem stepped over, tapping the panel to bring the ramp down. Three men stood at the bottom, two with rifles held out in front of them. The last one, Biggun presumably, took the center.

Wind flipped his long hair, bringing out to the left. He wore a long sleeve sweater with holes in the sleeves, cargo pants tucked into boots. His only weapon seemed to be a pistol worn on the left, but his hand wasn’t anywhere near it.

Zem approached him. The conversation came through the comms. “Biggun, huh? I expected you to be a lot taller.”

“Funny guy,” Biggun grumbled. “So what’s the deal? Give me the information.”

“How long before your boss gets here?” Zem asked.

“What’s that matter?”

“Because if this works out, I need to know how long we’ll be in limbo about a job.”

“Soon enough.” Biggun shook his head. “I’m getting the feeling you don’t know shit, pal.” The others stirred. “Why exactly are you here?”

“Bored.” Zem quick drew his pistol, blasting Biggun in the gut. The other guards lifted their weapons.

“Left,” Torrence muttered as she pulled the trigger. Her target took the hit in the face, a full-powered blast that obliterated his skull, knocking him to the pad.

“Right,” McCully said. She took hers out with a double tap to the chest.

Torrence broke cover, grabbing a rifle as she hurried to meet Zem.

“I’m on overwatch,” Nostros said, “changing position for a better vantage.”

“Coming down,” McCully added. “On the left.”

“Nostros, Bring him aboard.” Zem pointed at Biggun. He took the rifle from Torrence and started marching toward the compound. “McCully and Torrence, you’re with me.”

The compound could’ve housed fifty troops. It was walled off from the outside, sitting in the middle of nowhere on the planet. Loch proved