“I don’t know what that thing is, and I don’t care to find out,” replied Cutler. “So yes, as soon as it is within range, I intend to destroy it.”
Griff stroked his wiry mustache anxiously. He freely admitted to being more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ personality, but usually he knew what he was shooting at. And firing at an unknown alien ship seemed like an incredibly risky gamble. Now, more than ever, he wished he was on his own patrol craft, and not at the mercy of Cutler’s decisions. He knew as well as the others did how important it was to find a good score on the new moon. However, there was a universe of difference between tackling rival hunters and pompous CET and MP starship captains, and dealing with an unknown alien threat.
“We should turn around now,” said Griff, choosing to be the voice of reason. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. We should head back to the portal and wait for the RGF fleet to arrive.”
“And lose our chance at a big score?” replied Cutler, in a condescending tone that instantly got Griff’s back up. “I haven’t come all this way to leave with nothing, Inspector. And if your RGF friends arrive on that moon before we do, you know full well that I will be cut out of the profits. That is not going to happen.”
Griff was about to argue back, but Cutler turned away and addressed Tory instead. “Is it just flying directly at us?”
Tory nodded, “Other than matching any move I make, yes. Its course is arrow straight.”
Cutler flicked a couple of switches on his weapons systems console. “Good, then it will just fly straight into our shells,” he said.
“If this doesn’t work, our window to withdraw will be gone,” said Tory, again calmly but with measured urgency.
“It’s not like you to back down, Tory,” replied Cutler. From the subtle change in the tone of his voice, Griff thought this was bordering on an insult.
Tory glowered back at Cutler, “I’m not backing down,” she said, clearly angered by Cutler’s response. “I’m just letting you know that if you do this, we’re committed. No going back.”
Cutler didn’t acknowledge Tory, and finished activating the weapons systems. Griff watched as the targeting reticule appeared overlaid on the cockpit glass. A blue triangle materialized, flashed and then remained solid. Griff glanced over at the monitor to the side of his seat, scanning the tactical information. The ship was small, roughly equivalent to a large taxi flyer or two-person shuttlecraft. While he was studying the monitor, Griff noticed a strange glow coming from below. He glanced down and saw that the window in the scendar device he’d stolen from Hudson’s ship was glowing brightly again. What the hell? he asked himself, leaning over to get a better look. He was about to highlight the discovery to Cutler, but then he felt two solid thuds punch through the ship.
“Forward cannons fired,” said Cutler. “Their trajectory looks good.”
Griff frowned down at the scendar again, but then concentrated on the tactical overlay on the cockpit glass. Although he would have preferred to turn around and run, he was also eager to see the effect of Cutler’s attack. If the alien ship was destroyed then all was well, other than him needing to suffer Tory’s inevitable gloating.
“Impact in ten seconds…” said Cutler. No-one else spoke. Griff counted down in his head, then there was a brief flash of light ahead.
“Did you get it?” Griff blurted out, realizing he hadn’t taken a breath the whole time he was counting.
Cutler again didn’t respond. Griff’s own sense of powerlessness, combined with Cutler’s infuriating lack of communication, was driving him crazy. “Cutler, damn it, did you destroy the thing or not?!” he growled.
“No… the shells appear to have had no effect,” replied Cutler, sounding anxious. Then he again turned to Tory, “Can you outrun it?” The question was asked timidly, because, like Griff, Cutler already knew the answer.
Tory shook her head, “Like I told you, it’s too late for that now,” the mercenary replied, severely. “If running was the plan, we should have turned back when it first appeared.”
“Shit!” Cutler swore, in a rare display of emotion. It was yet another unusual reaction from the typically unflappable mercenary. “Turn around anyway. If we pull a high-g burn, it might give up its pursuit.”
“It’s too late, damn it!” snarled Tory, her own voice finally showing some signs of stress. “The burn would kill us. I told you if you stayed the course then we were committed. So, I say let’s find out if this alien bastard wants to play chicken!” Tory locked in her course, and stared out ahead, her eyes wild.
“Tory, what are you doing?!” yelled Cutler, “Turn away, now, that is an order!”
“I’m done following your orders!” Tory hit back, refusing to alter course. “I’m not leaving this system with nothing, and I’m never going back to the Council! I’d rather die here. So, we’re going to find out who breaks first.”
Griff was speechless, but then the engines of the FS-31 suddenly cut out, and it spun one hundred and eighty degrees. The rapid and unexpected movement would have thrown Griff from his seat, had he not still been strapped in. He steadied himself against the console to his side and saw that Cutler had overridden Tory’s controls, and was now flying the ship himself.
Heart pounding in his chest, Griff checked his monitor again, and saw that the alien ship was still coming for them. They had less than a minute.
“Damn it, Cutler, we can’t outrun it!” Tory snarled, hammering her fists onto the flight deck. “At least go down fighting, not running away like a coward!”
Cutler ignored her and continued frantically preparing to initiate a hard burn away from the alien ship. Griff’s eyes flicked nervously from Tory to Cutler and back again. The female mercenary was incensed.
“To hell with all this,” said Tory, unclipping her harness and darting across to the center of the console. She then grabbed the FS-31’s ID fob and yanked it clear. Immediately, the ship’s drive systems went offline; it was like switching off the ignition of a car.
“Tory!” yelled Cutler, trying to grab the fob back off her, but he was still strapped into his seat, and he merely flailed his arms at her helplessly.
Tory then walked up to Griff, and drew her revolver, “And to hell with you,” she growled.
Griff stared at the weapon, immobilized by fear. Then he peered up into Tory’s cold, resentful eyes, as the mercenary clicked back the hammer of the six-shooter and aimed the barrel at his head.
CHAPTER 3
Griff squirmed in his seat as Tory slid her finger onto the trigger of the six-shooter. However, with the harness still fastened tightly, he was trapped and helpless.
“Tory, come on, think about what you’re doing!” Griff yelled at her, now fixing his eyes onto the barrel of the revolver.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” replied Tory, “It’s something I should have done a long time ago. But, since we’re all going to die now anyway, I’ll be damned if some alien thing gets to be the one who takes you out.”
There was the sound of another weapon being loaded. Griff glanced behind Tory to see that Cutler was aiming his pistol at Tory’s back. He was still in his seat, but he’d swiveled it to face them.