Chapter 135: Chapter 47: Revelations

Hello readers! The end is fast approaching. Will Dash and crew make it out alive? Will Milia claim what she believes is her earned reward? Or will the Gyhera eat more people? Read on to find out!

Thank you for going on this journey with Dash and his dysfunctional crew. The Z Team: Book 1 will soon be on Amazon as an ebook and KDP read. Per their rules, only a 10% sample will remain on ScribbleHub.

BUT, don't fret! Book 2 will be rolling out as soon as book 1 ends.

Stay tuned, and happy holidays!

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Out of options, Cutter waited at the end of the row. A moment later, Parr’s repeater ripped into the huddled shadow of his former partner.

The stocky man slipped into the narrow space, weapon raised. He approached the end, a sickly grin on his face. “Got you!” he said, and sprung out to confront his kill. He paused when he saw the empty jacket shell.

“Shit,” was all that emerged from his lips before Cutter drove Bloek’s blade deep into the stocky man’s neck. Cutter released his legs from the overhead conduit and dropped beside Parr. He slapped the repeater away and grabbed ahold of the blade as Parr tried to pull it free.

Parr sneered back at Cutter through bloodstained teeth. Cutter twisted the blade. More blood gushed from the wound. Parr lashed out one final time, fury draining from behind his eyes, then fell to the floor.

Cutter watched the last bits of life leave the nasty little man. His words hung on Cutter’s thoughts: Whatever they found in the dirt I passed along was good enough to offer me another contract. Except this one was to kill you. It would’ve been an odd thing to concoct or lie about in the moment, and it was the only reason that would explain why Parr would void his original contract in eliminating Cutter and Bloek.

If anyone had more insight into why the client would do such a thing, it would be the target himself.

Cutter collected his gear, then dragged the other agent back to the walkway, straining with each step. The stocky sentient was heavier than he looked. He flipped the body over and took back his repeater, along with the little remaining ammunition. Armed again, he no longer cared about the pistol, lost somewhere in the substation. He examined his jacket, shredded with holes from Parr’s weapon. Despite the damage, some sections still held its shape, like an invisible Cutter had worn it. Or a serpent had shed its skin.

He sensed eyes upon him and peered up at the airlock viewport. Wesley stared down at him. The medtech’s gaze drifted to Parr’s body, then Cutter’s bloodstained clothing.

“Now where were we?” Cutter said. He noticed the dour expression on Wesley’s face. “I know you’ve been conditioned to save sentients, but you can’t help him.”

“I know,” Wesley said. “I don’t understand. Why would the client want you dead?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Cutter said. “It’s rare to have a private bounty contract. That means the client doesn’t want anyone knowing they’re after you. What did you do to justify this?”

Wesley hesitated. “It’s complicated.”

“You owe someone cred? You seduce the wrong person? You botch a medical procedure? Never mind. You’re going to tell me on the trip back.” Cutter tapped on the airlock panel, but the hatch didn’t open. He tried again with the same result. “Unlock it,” he said.

Wesley’s neck tightened as he swallowed. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“I’ll cut the hatch open if I have to.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Cutter sighed. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

“Maybe not,” Wesley said, and stepped back. Cutter saw the emergency spacesuit Wesley had donned from a locker inside.

“That’s a bad idea unless you’re trained for spacewalks.”

“Let’s just say this will fall into a learning-on-the-job opportunity,” Wesley said, and snapped the helmet into place. He switched on the external comms. “I appreciate the concern,” he said, and activated the airlock cycle. “You realize that if you and your companion didn’t turn on each other, you would’ve had me.”

“You say that like it was my decision. Like we could’ve hashed it out. He tried to kill me first,” Cutter said. He tried the emergency override. It didn’t work.

“And you held no ill will toward him?”

“He left me to die. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be around him after that.”

Wesley’s eyes drifted lower. “How is your wound?”

Cutter tapped an open hand on his wound. “It hurts. Why don’t you come out here and examine it for me?”

“Clever,” Wesley said, his eyes studying Cutter’s hand. “But not enough.”

“If you keep running, the client will send someone else after you. Someone who won’t be so accommodating.”

Wesley’s eyes rose to meet Cutter’s. “We know the client wants you dead, and yet, you still wish to bring me in? What makes you think you’ll receive the payment, let alone leave with your life?”

“I’ll have the advantage,” Cutter said. He was caught off guard by the question. It was, in fact, a good point he hadn’t yet considered. “If they want you that bad, they’ll pay, one way or another.”

“I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with. The power and influence of these people.”

“Enlighten me.”

The airlock panel chimed. The depressurization had completed. Wesley stepped back from the viewport, hand hovering over the internal panel. “I sense you’re a decent man, Agent Cutter. It is obvious the client seeks to commit an injustice to you, even more so than myself. I would be very careful.”

“You know something,” Cutter said. “Tell me.”

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have allies working to clear my name, but under the promise that I do not speak of the little I know.” Wesley looked to the panel, then back at Cutter. “I promise you this, Agent Cutter. Regardless of our status as adversaries, if I discover anything which may aid you, I will pass it along to you.”

Cutter didn’t know what to say. He’d never had a bounty offer to aid him before. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” the kid said with a civility and sympathy that shook Cutter.

The recovery agent put his hands on the viewport. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to try,” Wesley said. He hesitated, then add, “May the Lords watch over you.”

The medtech pressed the outer hatch release. The heavy door swung inward. He stepped outside the outer hatch, and was gone.

---

Dash clenched his fists and tried not to scream.

His overwhelmed nervous system focused enough to localize the throbbing ball of heat on his rear end. He gently probed the area and winced as he found the wound. “You shot me in the ass!” he spat out.

“Be thankful it wasn’t your head,” Milia said without a hint of empathy.

A Terran crewmember held back a fuming Gaius. The Gyhera crew hissed in unison, the guttural noise echoing inside the gate with primal fury. The scavengers and Porter cringed like scared natives cowering from monsters in the woods.

“You’ve crippled our compensation!” the Gyhera captain growled.

“He’s fine. Just needs a medpatch,” Milia said.

“I am wounded, I am … oh, that hurts,” Dash moaned. He swallowed the pain, collected himself, and forced out the words, “Wounded and weak. A liability.” The Gyhera hissed again while Dash paused for another breath. “Milia dishonors you once more. To your face, in front of your crew. There is only one path forward for her.” He rolled onto his side, and met her gaze. “She must now be yours too.”

Milia snorted. “Nice try.”

“The now useless prisoner is right,” the Gyhera captain said, and pointed a clawed finger at Milia. “You mock the code. That threatens all clans. And you mock me.” Her incensed gaze turned to the other Terran crewmembers. “This cannot stand. Surrender your captain to us, or you will be marked!”

Milia’s shoulders drooped. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Do you know what the Gyhera do to marked crews once they captured them?” Dash said to the scavengers. “Makes what happened at Ceta Outpost pale in comparison—”

Milia aimed her pistol at Dash’s head. “Shut up, or I swear to the Lords, I’ll finish the job.” He did as instructed, mainly because of the intense effort required to talk through his clenched teeth. But he also feared she might give in to the urge in the moment. He peered up at her, helpless and at her mercy. After a tense moment, she said to her crew, “Don’t listen to them. It’s the only way they can threaten us.”

No one spoke, but Dash could sense the silent exchanges taking place around her. Shoulders shrugged, heads shook.

An unexpected voice finally broke the silence.

“Captain Anderton may have been the Slayer of Outpost Ceta,” Henrik said, drawing the attention of the room, “but he’s a shell of his former self.” The chief engineer stepped forward, standing between the two opposing captains like a lawyer addressing a jury. “A pathetic husk, defeated by a person who failed to usurp her own captain twice. To take him and dispose of him would be to free him from his misery.” 

“He is weak and wounded, useless for working a ship,” Brock added, earning a grunt of agreement from Jido, his musclehead counterpart.

“Not a worthy prize,” Rosalie added.

“He would only burden you,” Draug said.

Henrik pointed to himself. “Leave him to us so we may suffer his limp existence.”

Dash stared at his ops crew, at a loss for words.

“We have one more consideration to propose,” Rosalie said. “The incident here will draw SecForce attention at some point. The clans won’t inform on the others.” She turned her attention to Porter. “But these Terminus officials are different. They are schemers, looking to make a profit. They failed in their duties as hosts. Boci and Galo are dead, but Porter remains alive. Take him and his cut as well, so the site is cleansed.”

The color drained from Porter’s face. “What are you talking about? You can’t do that!”

“You don’t get a say in the matter,” Milia said to the Stardancer crew, her gun still aimed at Dash.

“Of course we do!” Henrik snapped. “You give us guns and tell us to back you up, but we’re not part of the crew? Guess what, you’re not getting very far without us. Your chief engineer was the only decent one, and now he’s dead. You need us as much as we need you.”

“He’s right,” Rosalie said. Draug shifted in beside her.

Jido walked at Rosalie, his chest puffed out. “Listen here, you senile—”

Brock intercepted him. “She ain’t senile yet,” he said, and smirked at Rosalie, who replied with a crude gesture. Brock returned his focus to Jido. “So you should listen to what the lady has to say.” As the two brutes faced off, the few Terran crewmembers peered nervously at the Stardancer crew, their expressions etched with understanding. Porter shivered in fear.

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“I don’t know about you all,” Henrik said, cutting through the tension, “but I don’t want a pirate mark on my head.”

“Then how about I take your head off,” Milia said, and pointed her pistol at the chief engineer.

“Easy now,” Brock said, aiming Betsy at Milia. Jido lifted his weapon to Brock. The remaining Stardancer and Terran crewmembers pointed their weapons at each other.

“You all suffered under Rakton,” Rosalie said to the other scavengers. “Milia’s already proving that she values her own neck above anything else. Are you ready to live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”

Jido’s jaw clenched, his arm muscles flexing. His heavy brow relaxed as the anger boiled off in his eyes. “Lorddammit, they’re right,” he said, and swiveled his pistol to Milia.

“Don’t you dare,” she uttered, each word shooting off her tongue.

Jido shrugged. “You’ve brought this on yourself. We never held Rakton accountable. We’re not making the same mistake again.”

Milia’s eyes shifted to his grip on the pistol. “You think you’re fast enough to stop me from nailing you?”

“There’s a slight chance you would. But the others are with me. Right?” Jido said. The Terran crew now aimed their weapons at Milia.

“Who’s your captain?” she howled. “Who’s getting you work? How are you going to survive?”

“We’ll find someone,” Jido said. “Just not you.”

Rosalie pushed Henrik forward. “This one’s always griping about wanting to be captain.”

“Wait a minute, you can’t just volunteer me,” Henrik said.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Jido said, and reached for Milia’s pistol. Her neck muscles tightened as he disarmed her. Dash thought for a moment she might try something. But her body remained still, like an android gone limp.

Another scavenger pushed Porter forward. His mouth hung open, sweat dripping down his pudgy cheeks. “I risked my neck so you could run your operation!”

Jido nodded at the escort, who pulled a strip of tape from his belt and placed it over Porter’s mouth.

Milia turned and stared pure hate at each of her former crew. “If it wasn’t for me, Rakton would still be alive, lording over you. This is how you thank me?”

“She got worse after you left. Started in with the trafficking stuff,” Jido said.

“You made our lives more miserable with your failed mutiny,” another scavenger said.

Milia’s face contorted as she struggled to digest reality. “But I’m the captain. I’m in charge.”

“Not anymore,” Jido said, and looked at Henrik. “Time to finalize the exchange, acting captain.”

Henrik shifted his eyes to the Gyhera captain. “Uh, do you accept the new terms?”

“I do—”

One of the Gyhera crew stepped forward, challenging their leader. He argued with the captain, and Dash heard enough to know the objector was from a lineage who perished on Auturia at his hands. The pair went back and forth until the objector classified the captain as a ‘worthless breeder.’ to which she responded with a vicious strike that left the objector with a nasty gash across the cheek. The objector—clutching his face—retreated to the rest of the crew, leaving the captain alone again.

She faced Henrik, her body language relaxed as if nothing happened. “As I said, we accept your proposal. My ship is preparing for departure. The creds better be in my hold by then.”

“It’ll be there,” Henrik said.

The Gyhera captain waved at her crew, who released Lon. He lifted a pair of restraints from the floor, approached Milia cautiously, and snapped them on. “Serves you right for wanting to leave me behind.”

She took a menacing step toward him, and the man stumbled back next to Jido. He raised his pistol, halting her advance.

Milia looked around the room. She reached Dash and stopped. Her face twitched, alternating between glowering with pure rage and whimpering for mercy. 

Conflicting feelings battled within Dash, like two fighters trading blows in a bout. Unsure of what to say, he settled on, “Goodbye, Milia.”

A pair of Gyhera approached the Milia and Porter. As they were led out of the gate and into the terminal, the locked hatch of the Terran’s docking bridge opened, drawing the attention of everyone in the terminal. Mismatched robotic legs were exposed, then the torso, arms, and head of Tinker. The bot perked upward, surveying the scene before it. “Where is Captain Rakton?”

“You’re a little behind, dear,” Rosalie said.

The bot’s optical units zoomed in on the departing pair of Gyheras and their prisoners. “Where is First Mate Milia going?”

Henrik said, “She’s leaving us.”

“Leaving? Was her contract purchased? Was she—”

“Shut it. Get on the Stardancer, now.”

“I’m afraid I cannot comply. Authorization is limited to the crew of the Trusty Terran.”

“Dash is your captain again,” Henrik said. He looked to Dash, a hint of what may have been gratitude in his eyes. “Jido, grant him and Gaius authorization.”

“We’re just letting them go?” Lon asked.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“What if they rat us out to SecForce?”

Henrik shot an irritated glance in Lon’s direction. “They go back to the Stardancer or we’re not going with you.”

Brock, Rosalie, and Draug stepped in behind Henrik. “Even if they did go to SecForce, the Terran is a legitimate scraper now,” Rosalie said, arms crossed.

“We won’t have anything to hide,” Draug said.

Jido threw his hands up. “Fine. Bot, grant Dash authorization as captain and get back on that ship.”

“Authorization granted, Captain Anderton. I shall note Milia’s departure in the ship’s log, and return to my duties,” the bot said, and lumbered to the Stardancer’s docking bridge. “Hello there,” it said to the waiting Gyhera as it passed by.

“Less talking, more walking,” Dash said. The bot paused outside the closed hatch to the Stardancer’s docking bridge, then stepped through once it opened.

“Enough standing around,” Jido barked at the remaining scavengers. “We’ve got a bargain to keep. Let the prisoners go. Grab a torch, and get the safe open. All that cred needs to go to our friends over there so our business can be concluded.” The other scavengers hustled past into the now open docking bridge.

Gaius helped Dash stand. A scavenger removed their restraints, then hustled aboard the Terran. Jido and Lon faced Dash.

“No hard feelings, mate,” Jido said.

“Let’s not run into each other again,” Dash said.

Jido nodded and departed with Lon, leaving Dash and Gaius with their mutinous ops crew. The awkwardness was compounded by the Gyhera captain and crewmembers staring at them.

Henrik walked up to Dash. His mouth opened, but for once, nothing came out. Their tumultuous history filled the space between them; animosity and disappointment, yet something else lingered beneath the surface. Dash thought it might’ve been mutual respect.

The chief engineer’s lips went parallel, then almost tugged upwards at the corners. It lasted a fleeting moment, and his patented scowl reappeared. He bit on his lower lip, and nodded his head. Dash returned the gesture. Henrik spun around and marched for his new ship, as if not wanting to pollute his last image of Dash with any sort of pleasantness.

The others slowly followed. Rosalie took Dash’s hand, squeezed it, and kept walking. Brock looked upon Dash for a moment, then handed over Betsy. Dash looked the weapon over. He hadn’t the chance yet to examine the damage from Boci’s shot. He’d need a new holosight on it and a nice buffing job, but she took her licks and kept on going. Like the Stardancer, and himself, for that matter.

The big technician stepped away. Draug came last. “I feel bad about all this,” it said, and rubbed its snout. “Are you still upset with me?”

“Of course I am,” Dash said. “You participated in a mutiny against me.”

“I wish it never happened.”

“I do too.”

“Goodbye, Captain Anderton,” Draug said and left for the Terran. Dash ushered Gaius to the Stardancer—keeping the Gyhera in the periphery of his vision the whole time. He couldn’t lock eyes with them, not with Betsy in his hand. He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t do something stupid. But then he stepped into the docking bridge with Gaius and sealed the hatch behind them. Gaius threw his arms around his captain. “Let’s not do this again.”

Dash patted his pilot on the back, then gently pushed him away. “It’s not over yet. We’ve got to find Wesley.”

Gaius said nothing, looking past Dash out one of the bridge viewports. “Uh, Cap? Is that who I think it is?”

Dash followed Gaius’s gaze. Through the viewport, they could see the other terminals and the pirate ships docked alongside them. Lights flashed on their hulls as they readied to flee the disastrous meet. But that wasn’t what caught Gaius’s eye. Drifting closer in the eternal expanse of space was a figure clad in an emergency spacesuit. Judging by their floundering limbs, their spaceborne excursion was not going well.

Dash connected to the Stardancer’s hub and accessed the comm system. “Wesley, is that you spinning around out there like a space scout on his first walk?”

“Captain?” came Wesley’s panicked reply. “Where are you?”

“In our ship’s docking bridge looking at you,” Dash said. Gaius waved out the viewport. Wesley, twirling in a slow spin some fifty meters away, flailed an arm back at them. “Hang tight. We’re coming to get you.” 

Dash muted the comm and walked briskly with Gaius into the Stardancer.

“This is exciting. My first spaceborne retrieval,” Gaius said.

Dash placed his hand on the back of his pilot’s neck and squeezed affectionately. “Just don’t pancake the kid on the hull.”

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