Chapter 107: Chapter 19: Slick Escape

Dash opened his eyes to see rows of dim overhead lights.

He rolled over, body heavy on the floor. The air was hazy. His ears rung. Next to him, Gaius, Wesley, and Milia all stirred, equally dazed. For a moment, Dash couldn’t remember how they got there. Then he recalled the shooting, the dead contacts, and the explosion.

Someone had tried to kill them.

He found Betsy still in his hand and swept her atop the short containers. Where his target had been was now a collapsed pile of charred and twisted metal. Whoever he’d hit was carrying something volatile. Whatever it was, it had silenced every nearby shooter.

 He caught the dazed eyes of his crew. He gestured at Milia. “Go, I’ll cover.” She nodded and pulled Gaius toward the gap. Dash thanked his lucky stars she was good under pressure. He crawled a few meters away from them, then stood up from behind the container stack. A round ripped past his head, and he ducked back behind the container. The single shot was like a starter pistol, prompting the firefight to resume.

Milia shoved Gaius out of their cover toward the gap. They were across the opening in a flash, and slipped into the shadows.

Dash shifted to Wesley. The medtech met him with wide-eyed terror. Dash donned the backpack, hooked his arm around the kid, and guided him after the others. They dashed from the safety of the short container stack. Shots streaked by as they stumbled into the darkness. The fit was tight. Metal pressed on all sides like the mouth of a giant creature swallowing them whole.

They burst from the shadows into a narrow corridor. Wesley seized without warning, prompting Dash to crash into him. As they tumbled forward, Dash saw the silhouette of a figure standing in front of them. He pivoted mid-fall to avoid crashing atop Wesley. They hit the ground hard.

Dash peered upward. His eyes swept over the black armor, the heavy kit, the sleek carbine, then the helmet with a prominent shield on the forehead. The badge of a SecForce Special Operations officer.

The man’s narrowed eyes pierced through the semitranslucent visor. He stared back indifferently, like he was looking at a shoot house target and not a living thing. His weapon swept lower, and Dash realized the supposed good guys were about to kill him and Wesley. Before he could comprehend why, or how SecForce knew about the meet in the first place, the man’s torso erupted into a plume of white-hot light. Bits of gear, armor, and flesh sprayed the corridor, and he was knocked backward as if swatted away by a combat walker.

Dash shifted his gaze past his feet, searching for the shooter. A dockworker stood there, holding a deadly and highly volatile plasma repeater. He knew then what had caused the explosion; the shot from Betsy must’ve struck the power pack of another such weapon. He lifted his eyes to catch a glimpse of the weapon’s wielder. Beneath the mask, glowing red-tinted streaks pulsed beneath the skin, converging on a man’s eyes. The weapon lowered in Dash’s direction, the face a visage of a grimacing demon. There was something vaguely familiar about the horrifying sight, a fleeting thought that was to be his last. Then the face flashed bright, head snapping back. The body crumpled, lifeless.

Looking forward again, Dash spotted Milia leaning out from another gap in the containers. She aimed her small pistol in their direction. “Move it!”

“Get up,” Dash said to Wesley, whose ashen face was locked onto the sight of the fallen man. Dash yanked the catatonic medtech from the ground. He found his footing and followed Dash to Milia. The captain risked a glanced back and saw the slimmest hint of fading streaks on the fallen dockworker. He shoved Wesley into the gap, some part of his mind making a note to find out where Milia had gotten her weapon from. If they got out of there alive.

They spilled out the other side into a narrow corridor that stretched dozens of meters in either direction. Gaius peeked out from another gap between containers across the way.

Milia charged ahead and slipped in. Wesley ran on his own accord after her, but paused at the gap.

“If Gaius fit, so will you,” Dash said, and groaned as a shot slammed into the backpack and threw him into the darkness. He shoved Wesley forward, not caring about being polite. He felt no burning pain, and wasn’t sure if the shot had penetrated through. He’d find out soon enough if he dropped dead.

The scent of scorched fabric filled the narrow space. A sharp pain formed on his elbow, and his uniform leg caught on something. He swung through, ripping the fabric.

Dim light appeared ahead as Wesley cleared the gap. Dash raised Betsy behind him and fired a shot to discourage their pursuers. The force of the powerful shot rippled through him in the tight space.

They fled across several more corridors and slipped between the rows, squeezing through gaps like puzzle pieces. Trailing at the rear of the line, Dash had no choice but to trust Milia’s judgment. He ducked as a shot ripped by overhead. A sniper. They didn’t have a clear line of fire, but were likely repositioning for another attempt.

The corridor turned left ahead. The others slipped around it. When Dash made the turn, he found his crew had disappeared.

A hand waved at him from beneath a stored construction vehicle. Dash followed, but caught the backpack on the undercarriage. He sank lower and crawled underneath. A hand covered his mouth rebreather, signaling him to be quiet. 

Heavy footsteps plodded against the ground. Four pairs of brand new identical black boots came into view as they bound past the equipment. They slowed suddenly, halting a meter away from the crew. So close that Dash could have reached out and grabbed the closest pair.

“What’s your position, acolyte?” a voice whispered, speaking into a comm.

Another said, “If SecForce is here—”

“Then they will die too,” a third added. The sentient’s boots were the closet pair to the crew. Obscured beneath the uniform pants, they were all black, and appeared military grade.

“Where is the package?” the first said again. “Understood. Fall back. We’re coming to you.”

The group resumed their ingress, and the boots receded from view. When they were out of earshot, Gaius and Milia whispered ferociously at Dash, only to be overpowered when Wesley said, “This was supposed to be a simple fucking delivery!” The others went silent at his outburst. “I apologize,” he said. “I’m quite agitated at the moment.”

“What does that cannon of yours shoot?” Milia asked Dash.

“It’s not the ammo, it’s the power pack that I shot,” Dash said. “We need to get away from here, then we can figure out what happened and what do to about it.” Somehow, the job had gone worse than Terminus. But he learned his lesson. He had an alternative exile route planned. “There’s another access door up ahead. We slip out through there. Follow me.”

Dash peeked out from beneath the equipment. A volley of gunfire roared from the direction of the meet, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. He slid out. The others followed as he led the way.

After a few more corridors and turns, they were almost to the access point. Then they heard the door open.

Dash halted the group. “Someone’s coming in.”

“Here,” Milia said, and led them back down the corridor.

“There’s no door over there,” Dash said.

“No, but there’s something else,” Milia said.

Another turn, and Dash saw what she meant: a container processing station. She hopped up on the conveyor belt and pulled a multitool from her belt. 

“You know what you’re doing?” Dash said.

“Yeah. It’s not my first time,” Milia said. She popped open the door’s panel and prodded the circuitry. 

Dash covered their six while she worked. Stray gunfire peppered the ceiling on the far side of the warehouse. He wondered how many people had died in the past few minutes over what was strapped to his back. 

The door lock disengaged. “Got it! Let’s go,” Milia said as she slipped into the decontamination tunnel. Wesley and Gaius climbed atop the conveyor and followed her. 

Dash took one last look around the warehouse, stepped into the tunnel, and closed the door behind him.

---

Scampering through the cramped tunnel, flashlight light cutting back and forth through the darkness, Milia wondered how she found herself at the behest of another troublesome captain. A firefight with SecForce and some heavily-armed third party? She couldn’t believe something like this happened on Praxa Prime. It could just be an unfortunate stroke of hauler’s luck. But she’d overheard the ops crew complain about their hasty departure from Terminus. Maybe it was Dash who attracted all the trouble. 

She brushed the thought aside, needing to focus. They weren’t out of danger yet. 

The crew followed behind her as they traversed the enclosed conveyor. She forged ahead, and the closed door at the end materialized beneath her flashlight beam. There was no panel in sight, and her pulse tickled the back of her throat. Then she spotted it—a safety switch in a recessed part of the conveyor wall. She pulled the cover free and mashed the button. The door unlocked and swung open to expose a loading pad.

Milia swept the pad with her pistol. They were alone. The crew climbed down. She led them through the stacks of pallets and containers toward the access gate. In the distance, ground transports rumbled closer, then a few faint gunshots reverberated across the warehouse grounds. A hint of flashing SecForce lights touched the light haze hanging low in the artificial sky.

Spotting the gate, Milia had a sudden fear that the warehouse was in silent lockdown mode, making their uniform’s access codes useless.

“Milia, you’re up,” Dash said, and took cover behind a pallet stack. She tucked her pistol deep into her tool belt, then approached the gate. It opened, and she stepped out. The rest of the crew cycled through. Emerging last, Dash pointed toward a nearby alley between weathered industrial buildings. 

They slipped across the semi-lit access lane. A handful of vagrants emerged from the shadows a few blocks away. A voice called out, but the words were either slurred or in some dialect their PDs couldn’t translate. Flashing lights appeared beyond the vagrants as a SecForce ground transport approached. Their heads turned in the direction of the commotion. 

“Hurry,” Milia said. The crew scurried into the alley and out of sight.

She led them down the alley, weaving past discarded containers, pallets of unprocessed goods, and a few powered-down loading cars. A shadow scurried along the ground, and she leapt over what she guessed was some sort of rodent. The creature squeaked and darted off. 

After a few blocks, Dash signaled to stop in between a pair of dumpsters. Milia would’ve kept going, putting more distance between them and the crime scene, but Dash doubled over with a cramp in his side. The others fared little better. They leaned against the building, gasping for breath.

Dash needed another few breaths before he could muster the strength to speak. “Ditch the uniforms.”

Wesley removed his mask. “Captain, your back. Are you injured?”

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Dash removed the backpack off and examined it. There was a small hole of burnt fabric. He switched on a light for a better look, exposing the damage to the case beneath. “This case is no joke. See those multiple thin layers? That’s military-grade armor. Without that, the shot would’ve gone right through the pack, and probably me.”

Gaius let out a low whistle. “Somebody mind explaining to me what we’ve gotten ourselves into?”

“That wasn’t just an ambush. It was a double ambush,” Milia said. “I bet that one party was there to snatch the package, and SecForce showed up to snag everyone involved.”

“Be thankful they fought over it. Otherwise we’d be dead,” Dash said. He threw his uniform in the dumpster. Betsy went into his underarm holster.

“What’s in that package that would cause SecForce to try to gun us down?” Wesley said. He hopped on one foot, trying to pull his uniform off his leg.

“Doesn’t matter. We need to get rid of it before it gets us killed,” Milia said.

“Agreed,” Dash said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He went to pick up the case.

“You can’t just stroll around with that thing on your back. We need to do something about the damage,” Milia said. She caught a sidelong glance from Dash that let her know she’d almost crossed the line.

Gaius stripped his uniform, and tossed it into the dumpster. Milia looked him up and down. “What the hell are you wearing?”

The pilot glanced down at his flight suit wrapped with light strips. “It’s my outfit for my event. I’ve got an image to maintain.”

Milia stared at him a moment longer, then looked away.

“Hold up,” Gaius said to Wesley as the medtech was about to drop his toolbelt in the dumpster. Gaius took the belt and dug through it. He plucked a small tube of adhesive and held it up. “Now we need something to cover it up with.”

The crew swept their lights around the alley.

“What about this?” Milia said, and held up a holoflyer. It flashed with the logo of the protest event.

“The objective is to not draw attention,” Dash said.

“It’s the perfect cover. We’ll look like any other protester,” Milia said. “Unless you want to dumpster dive to find something else. We’re kind of in a time crunch here.”

“Do it,” Dash said. Gaius knelt and applied the flyer. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Dash moved in for a closer look. The flyer detected the movement and cycled an image of refugees fleeing a burning settlement. He threw on the backpack. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re annoyed that you have to wear that backpack,” Milia observed.

“I can fake it when it counts,” Dash said, and adjusted the pack. “SecForce will be combing the security surveillance network looking for four suspects traveling together. We’ll walk back to the ship, separately. I’ll take point with Milia. You two tail behind.”

“I have to babysit the rookie?” Gaius moaned. Behind him, Wesley frowned.

“And be babysat. It goes both ways.”

“What about the ops crew?” Milia said. “Do we bring them in?”

Dash said, “They’re going to be unhappy, but I think we better in case we need to leave.” He gestured for Milia to walk with him. “I’ll contact them on the way,” he said, then to Gaius and Wesley, “Stay back a good amount.”

“I know how to trail,” Gaius said.

Milia reached Dash’s side, and they exited the alley onto a throughway leading to the commercial district bordering the primary dockyard. A few other civilians wandered by, paying no attention.

“Public transportation would be faster, but SecForce would have a lot of eyes focused on the security streams there,” Milia said.

“You read my mind. It’s not too far a walk. And if either party from the warehouse knows who we are, they’ll already be there, waiting for us. Rushing back wouldn’t help,” Dash said.

“Have you ever had anything like this happen before?” Milia asked.

“I’m not going to lie. I’ve been shot at more than I care for, but nothing like this. You?”

“Same.” Off in the distance, they heard a low, rhythmic echo. “Sounds like the protest is going strong,” Milia said.

“Good. The distraction should help us,” Dash said. 

Across the throughway, a small group of protesters marched toward the big event. An older man spotted Milia and Dash, and shouted at them, “Screw the Commonwealth! Freedom from tyranny! Remember Auturia!”

Dash replied with a polite wave. Milia regarded the group. They held holoflyers—like the one adhered to the backpack Dash wore. A few bystanders acknowledged them warmly, while others ducked their heads and passed by at a brisk pace.

“Did you lose anyone on Auturia?” Milia asked Dash. She wasn’t sure why she blurted the question out.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Dash said, each word heavy as it left his lips. Sensing his reluctance to speak on the matter, she said nothing more.

A few meters ahead, the overhead door of a boutique eatery rolled upward. Dash stopped, grabbing Milia’s wrist. She halted next to him as a roller bot drove out, followed by a Ghupto in an apron. The sentient’s generous heft bounced as it escorted the bot. A delicious scent trailed them as the food vendor crossed the lane, off to serve the protesters.

Dash released her wrist, and they kept walking. The awkwardness from her question, and his response, remained. Then, he asked, “What about you?”

“A few acquaintances. One old boyfriend. Kind of a jerk, but didn’t deserve to die.”

“We need to talk about a couple of things,” Dash said, discomfort in his voice. “About what you said back there with the crew. You and I need to talk about our options before making decisions. No more unilateral declarations.”

“It’s obvious what we needed to do,” she said, but swallowed the rest of her words. She looked away, the smoldering rage of her recent failure flaring from within its cage buried inside her gut. She inhaled, swallowing the heat, and blew out a soothing breath. Better to smooth things over. “I got caught up in the moment. Sorry, Captain.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re right. We need to ditch this thing,” Dash said. “About your pistol, you told me you didn’t have any guns.”

“Sorry about that too,” she said. “I’ve always kept one on me as long as I can remember. Like putting on a pair of pants in the morning. I was going to bring it up, but didn’t want to start an argument before our first job.”

“Fair enough,” Dash said, though he sounded displeased with the answer. 

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll need to shoot Henrik with it,” she added.

That brought a smile to Dash’s face. “That’s true. And I can't be that upset about it. You saved our lives. Thanks.”

“Nothing to it,” she said. It had nothing to do with loyalty to the crew or captain. If one of them didn’t make it out of that warehouse, then SecForce would find the body and then the ship. It was a matter of self-preservation.

“Was that your first time? Killing someone?”

She paused a moment. Dash glanced at her. “Yeah, it was,” she lied.

They walked in silence another block. “It’s a hard thing. You want to talk about it? Now or later?”

“No. It needed to be done,” she said. As it had the few times she’d done it before. It wouldn’t be her last time either. Even after she got her revenge. “Besides, the guy was about to murder two people who also happened to be my crew, so it was justified,” she said to smooth over the conversation.

“It was,” Dash said, and dropped the subject. There were other matters at hand needing attention. He opened a comm to Henrik, and Milia readied herself for another uncomfortable conversation.

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