The Star Travelers
Mary Herdman
Copyright 2013 by Mary Herdman
Episode 1 - Ships and Swords
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“Slash!!”
Silver flashed as the cutlass sliced the air. The arm wielding it was skilled, practiced on pattern dances for decades until it had perfected the art of swordplay. The cutlass was well-kept, shining in the dim light as it made another two vertical cuts in the target.
“Slash slash!!”
The target was a man, vaguely human in appearance, and wielded another deadly blade. He, too, was skilled with the weapon, making an even match for the first. His sandy hair never fell out of place as he sliced back in defense. The first swordsman kept him busy, offensively attacking as hard as he could with six more swipes.
“Slash!! Slash, slash!! Slash slash slash!!”
As stated, very offensively.
“Will you please refrain from saying the word 'slash' every time you move your arm?” Info asked Sam, “It is exceedingly unprofessional.”
Sam wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. His shirt had once been white, but wear had given it a yellow tinge. The sleeves flapped, unbuttoned but no longer rolled up from the exercise. “Aw, c'mon Info,” he chided, “This isn't supposed to be professional. I'm just havin' fun!!”
He raised his cutlass again, set for another attack, when the alarm sounded.
Wrooooooot Wrooooooot Wrooooooot
“Sla – what now?”
Sam rushed over to the console on the wall to call the bridge. “Tinny, what in the name of Jactna is going on up there?”
“Timen ship approaching, sir,” came the reply, “They're hailing us, want to speak with the captain.”
“Oh, for the love of – I'm on my way, Tin, just keep 'em busy.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Sam grabbed a towel from the side of the cargo bay where they had been practicing, which had a temporary use as a gym when they were between jobs. Wiping his face, he grabbed his coat and headed up the stairs. “Info,” he called behind him as he went, “we might need you in the computer.”
“Yes, Sam.” The holographic young man that had previously been Sam's practice target disappeared into a small device he had been wearing on his arm. Sam didn't seem to notice, continuing up the stairs as though this happened every day.
Sam was one of the Timen, a race of humans that were bred as soldiers from an early age. They could hardly be called “human” anymore, as they were (technically) immortal. They ceased to visibly age from the time they joined a starship as a crew member, and therefore could not die of old age. Nor could they catch normal “human” diseases – although they did have their own sicknesses, they were not considered human because they could not naturally die.
At this moment, though, the appearance of another Timen ship was cause for concern.
“Captain,” came a gruff voice behind Sam, “We in trouble?”
Sam answered without breaking stride. “Not yet, Joe, but get your knives ready just in case.”
Joseph Carmichael ducked back down into his quarters as Sam ran up the stairs that led to the bridge. “Report,” he commanded as he took the Captain's seat, all traces of his prior playfulness gone. Tinec Jelanson, Tinny to the crew, stood at attention next to him as he updated Sam.
“B-class ship off the starboard side, Captain,” he said, “The Necron, Lien's ship, powerful guns but not very fast. They're hailing us.”
Sam turned to the pilot. “Than, can we outrun them?”
“That's a negatory, Captain,” Nathaniel Theil, the pilot, responded, “Port's covered by a cop. Hey, look,” he exclaimed sarcastically, “It's our old friend Ferris.”
Sheriff Marshall Ferris had given the Fluster a good run three years back. He gave up the chase, however, when Sam was pardoned for services to the state. Ferris had never forgiven Sam for the death of his last deputy. His presence also caused concern.
Sam swore. “What are we charged with,” he asked Tinny, “did they say?”
“'Fraid not, Captain,” Tinny replied grimly.
“Alright,” Sam said, running his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to smooth it down, “patch me through.”
A screen popped up from the armrest on Sam's chair, showing a middle-aged man with a neat military haircut. “This is Captain Lien of the Timen ship Necron,” said the man, “Am I addressing Sam Tanner?”
“This is Captain Sam Tanner of the Fluster," Sam replied, "What can I do for you?”
The other captain smiled politely. “You have given us quite a chase, Mr. Tanner,” he said, “Now, come quietly and we can smooth this entire matter over.”
“I was unaware you were following,” said Sam coolly, “Might I ask what I am being charged with?”
“Stop playacting, Tanner,” snapped Captain Lien, “It didn't work in the academy and it isn't going to work here.”
Sam smirked. “I have rights, Lien,” he replied, “I was pardoned for all charges three years ago. Since then I've been running a legit transport operation. What am I being charged with?”
“Upon leaving the same trial in which you were pardoned, you commandeered a Timan ship," Lien replied, teeth clenched in a forced smile.
“I thought it was already mine," Sam said coolly, "I didn't hear anyone saying it was revoked.”
“You were told by the judge during the trial, and three assistants on your way out the door." Lien was obviously trying to control his temper. Sam had a way of getting under his old teacher's skin.
Sam cocked his head to the side. “I don't recall those warnings.”
“The last assistant gave you a written copy of the order," Lien said.
“Must've lost it,” Sam shrugged.
“Tanner,” Lien growled, “It has been a long three years tracking you down. Either come quietly or prepare to be boarded.”
Sam opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Board us then,” he dared the other captain, before switching off the viewscreen. He hit another button on his chair's console before the screen had finished blacking out. “Alice?” he called through the intercom.
“Aye, Sam?” came the perky reply.
“We're gonna have to run, and fast. How much juice can you give us?”
“How much do you need?”
Sam clapped his hands together in anticipation. “'Atta girl, Alice. Can you get us to Sirius III?” He named a border planet that was central to the black market. The best way to hide a stolen ship was in a den of thieves.
“Easy, Captain. Than, Mad Mod on the order, right?”
“Copy, kitten,” Than replied, “Ready when you are, Captain.”
“On my mark,” Sam started, “Three, two...”
“Captain!!” came Joe's voice over the intercom, “A boarder in the cargo bay!!”
Sam reacted like lightning. “Alice, cut off transport, don't let any more on!! Than, get us out of here!!”
“Hold tight, Captain,” Than replied, “This could get bumpy.”
Sam was already out of his seat, grabbing his cutlass from the holster on his chair and dashing to the cargo bay to help Joe. The ship rocked heavily even as he heard the sound of a jump. They had gotten away, then, and the only loose end was sitting in the cargo bay. Sam ran down the corridors, kicking himself for not remembering the transport. Then again, he thought ruefully, Lien should know better.
Joe was lying at the top of the stairs, throwing knives trained on a stack of metal boxes below. “This asshole won't die,” he reported. He threw a knife at an elbow that stuck o
ut for a brief moment from behind the boxes, but missed as it quickly drew back in. The knife bounced against the wall behind the intruder, and clattered to the floor.
“Give up now and I'll be lenient!!” shouted a voice from behind the boxes, “Keep attacking and gosh darn it I'll throw the book at your keester when I get you back to the precinct!!”
“That does it,” Joe growled, reaching for the pistol in his holster and calling, “Come out you little bastard so I can shoot you proper!!”
“Now, is that any kind of incentive?” replied the voice, as Sam motioned for Joe to put the gun away.
“A hole in the hull would be bad for everybody,” Sam warned him. The captain was pleased to see that the intruder had the sense not to fire on board his ship.
Joe looked at Sam. “Come on, Captain,” he pleaded, “This little fucktard needs to be shot!!”
“No,” Sam repeated, “I can't have you missing.”
“I can hit him!!”
Sam walked over to the stairs and started down them, drawing his cutlass. Heading toward a button on the wall, he saw a blond head poke out from behind the crates for a second. The next second, another knife flew past where it had been. He pressed the button. “Alice, I need a suppression field in the cargo bay.”
There was a pause while Alice did as he asked, before she replied, “Gotcha, Captain. Three meters to your left.”
“Alice,” Sam sighed, “he's three meters in front of me. Are the sensors calibrated?”
“I just calibrated this morning.” Her voice faded a bit as though she was checking something across the room. “Something must've happened to the sensors when we got hit. I'll have Info take a look at it.”
Sam sighed. “Thanks, Al.” Sam turned to the metal boxes, where the intruder was hiding. “You might as well come out. You can't shoot us, and we can't shoot you.”
“How do I know you're telling the truth?”
Sam pointed the cutlass toward the crates. “The hull doesn't get along well with bullets from the inside.” The intruder paused, as if thinking about it for a second, then came out from behind the crate.
He was in his early twenties, fit enough, with blond hair cut in a neat military style. Upon seeing Sam he raised his rifle. “Now, come quietly and I won't have to hurt you,” he said shakily.
Sam used his cutlass to knock the barrel of the rifle aside. Confidently, he put the point up to the intruder's throat. “You won't shoot,” he told him.
The gunman seemed to consider this for a moment. Sam, in a show of good faith, lowered the blade and kept his hands in the open. After a moment, the gunman set his rifle on the floor.
“What's your name?” Sam asked, stopping two arm-lengths away.
The gunman narrowed his eyes, obviously wondering if Sam had an angle. Apparently deciding that it was a harmless enough question, he answered, “Matthias Payne, Trainee Deputy to Sheriff Marshall Ferris.”
Sam swore, putting his hand to his forehead. “What is with this ship and picking up the deputies?” he muttered to no one in particular. Deputy Payne was still staring at him, occasionally looking up at Joe to make sure there weren't any tricks.
“So what're we gonna do with him, Captain?” Joe asked. He had lowered his gun when Sam had ordered him, but refused to let go of it.
Sam never looked away from Payne. “We'll dump him on Sirius. He should be able to make it back to the precinct, or at least contact Ferris.”
“Excuse me sir, but I don't like that idea,” Joe said warily, “He could just rat our spot out to Ferris next chance he gets.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Kill 'im,” Joe spoke bluntly. He never had a problem that couldn't be solved by killing somebody.
Payne took a step back. “I'm a Deputy in the office of the Sheriff,” he reminded them, “You kill me, you'll be hunted down for the rest of your darned lives!!”
“This kid's annoying me pretty quickly, Captain,” Joe said, raising his gun again, “He don't even swear proper.”
“He also makes a valid point, Joe,” Sam ordered, “Put it down. No holes in the Fluster, remember?” He moved over to the opposite wall from the boxes, and picked up his scabbard from where he left it after practicing with Info. Buckling the scabbard around his waist, he pointed the cutlass at Payne.
“My friend up there has a point,” he said quietly, “I don't know if you wouldn't just betray us to Ferris the moment my back is turned. So here's what we're going to do:” he stepped in, just out of Payne's arm's reach. “I'm going to tie you up, and hand you to Joe up there. Wave hello, Joe.”
Joe gave a small wave, leering at Payne. The deputy shivered, but otherwise showed no outward sign of worry. Sam continued, “Joe won't hurt you, though, unless you try to escape. You'll be kept in Joe's room, under his supervision, throughout your stay. We'll set you down on the next planet we stop at, blindfolded, until we're sure you're far enough away from us that you can't do any harm. After that, I won't give a damn about what you do, because you won't be my problem anymore. Got all that?”
Payne nodded, but asked, “How can I trust I won't be harmed?”
“Joe and I will be the only ones who see you, and Joe won't hurt you under pain of my severe displeasure, right Joe?” Sam turned his head just far enough to glare at Joe, who looked crestfallen.
“But Captain,” Joe asked, “Why can't I just shoot him and be done with it?”
“You'll do as you're told, no questions. Got it?” Sam said angrily.
Joe grunted an affirmative, but muttered, “It's 'cause of Lane, ain't it?” under his breath.
“Do you think,” Sam growled, “that Ferris wouldn't hunt us down to the ends of the universe if we get another of his deputies killed? Payne made just as good a point there as you did, Joe, and if I ever hear you question my orders again I will personally slice you open, savvy?”
Joe, instead of looking afraid, just stormed down the stairs. He grabbed a length of rope and roughly tied Payne up. Then, muttering darkly to himself, proceeded to march the prisoner up the stairs and out the doors. Only when they were safely out of earshot did Sam sigh and follow.
It's times like these I wish we had a brig.