Project Starfighter (2 page)

“You can’t prove that we were
implicated in this,” Chris said, making an effort to keep his voice
calm and steady. Even so, he was sure that his body language was
betraying him. The drone would likely pick up on that, as well as the
subtle traces of nerves in his voice as he spoke.

The drone turned briefly to all
those who stood close to it, as if eyeing them. “Each one of you is
known to have participated in recent events and been a part of ‘The
Resistance’. Your escape pods and shuttles were tracked as they
returned to the surface.”

The holographic display the drone
projected above its head changed, showing various scenes of shuttles
descending from orbit, journeying quickly to the ground, escaping the
fleet that was being torn to ribbons by the AI-driven warships and
fighters WEAPCO had sent to the system. The men and women swore as
their names were displayed alongside the images, it being all too
clear that it was them in the footage.

Chris saw his own cigar-shaped pod
hurtling down; he recognised part of the serial number on the side. A
parachute was deployed, slowing the pod, yet it still struck the
ground heavily. Chris remembered that severe jolt, convinced at the
time that he would be smashed to pieces, that he was going to die in
the impact. Others had landed near him, but had scattered
immediately, fearful of being hunted down by WEAPCO drones such as
this one.

“However,” the drone went on,
“as an additional incentive to bringing this incident to a speedy
conclusion, the Corporation is willing to offer significant financial
reward for each of the six most wanted that is handed over.”

“No!” Chris cried. He couldn’t
believe the thing was offering them a bribe.

“How much?” Beechwood asked,
clearly interested.

“The reward would be two hundred
and fifty thousand, per head,” the drone said. “The wanted
individuals must be handed in alive. No financial compensation will
be awarded for a dead individual. However, the original terms of the
contract will still stand.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jacob said,
moving over to the others, who were already nodding in agreement.
“So, all we have to do is turn in those six you’re after, collect
the reward money, and the rest of us can go free? New identities and
all?”

“Those are the terms laid out by
the Corporation,” the drone replied.

Chris moved forward, grabbing hold
of Jacob’s arm. “What are you doing?” he asked the older man.
Jacob shrugged him off, the look in his eye suggesting that he no
longer cared about fighting back.

“We can give you Wooding, now,”
Sanderson said, holstering the pistol with which he had formerly
attacked the drone. “She’s in there, being patched up on a
table.” He hooked a thumb towards the diner.

“Is Jasmine Wooding’s life at
risk?” the drone asked.

“No, she’s just suffering from
some burns,” Beechwood said. “If you come with me, I will lead
you to her.”

“Thank you,” the drone said,
following after the woman.

Chris was horrified. Not twenty-four
hours earlier, these people had stood shoulder to shoulder with him,
fully resolved to tackle a menace to the galaxy, fight for freedom,
and find a way to end the suffering of millions. Now, they seemed
quite willing to push that all aside to save their own skins. Chris
had not joined the Resistance for this, nor could he ever have
expected such capitulation from the others, even after such a
crushing defeat. He couldn’t let it end here.

“No, no way,” Chris said,
starting after Beechwood and the drone.

At that very moment Jacob lunged for
him, tackling him to the ground, winding him. Chris fought to free
himself, but Jacob only applied his weight harder, grabbing hold of
his arms and pressing his knee into Chris’ back.

“Get off me!” Chris yelled
furiously.

“Shut the hell up,” Jacob
hissed, forcing Chris’ face down into the dirt.

“We have to stop that thing from
getting Jasmine!” Chris tried.

“Listen to me, kid,” Jacob said,
watching Beechwood and the drone disappear through the doors into the
diner. “There’s no point in trying to fight them, we’ve found
that out already. They’ll easily kill anyone who attempts to stand
against them. Right now, they’re giving us a chance to stand down
and walk away, and we’d be fools not to take it. All they want are
six people and the rest of us can go free.”

“You really believe that’s all
they want?!” Chris asked. “The moment they have what they’re
after, they’ll slaughter the rest of us. Have you ever heard of
WEAPCO offering a reward or compensation for anything, ever? It’s
all just a pack of lies!”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to
take,” Jacob said, continuing to press down on Chris, to prevent
him from rising. “And hell, I could do with the money. Enough to
disappear and start over elsewhere. The share would be more than I
could make in four years.”

“You’re making a big mistake,”
Chris said. He struggled, but Jacob was strong, his anger and
determination to get what he was after helping him to keep Chris
pinned down.

Chris could just see Jasmine Wooding
being led out of the diner by Beechwood, the drone floating behind.
There was no sign of the doctor who had been attending to Wooding’s
burns. Chris struggled a little more against Jacob, but the man did
not relax his hold for even a second.

“All good?” Sanderson asked the
drone.

“The subject is in an acceptable
condition,” the drone announced. “I will signal for a medical
unit. Done,” it confirmed, barely half a second later. “It will
arrive shortly. Thank you for your cooperation and help.”

“And the money?”

“The money will be deposited into
your bank accounts shortly.”

“Three-way share,” Sanderson
said, pointing out the recipients. “Myself, Nicola Beechwood, and
Jacob Worth.”

“Three-way share?” Jacob
commented, sounding quite pleased. “Thought it was going to be four
or five. Might be able to afford somewhere better with that. That’s
... what, eighty-something each.”

Chris felt Jacob’s weight lift as
the man, relaxing, relinquished his hold somewhat. With Jacob briefly
off-guard, Chris was able to heave him aside and spring to his feet.
Jacob made a lunge for him but was too slow, Chris bounding out of
the way.

“Ah, whatever,” Jacob said,
waving him away. “What’s done is done. You should get yourself
out of here, kid.”

“Chris Bainfield,” Chris
reminded him.

Jacob once again swatted the words
aside, without much of a care. He was clearly too busy mentally
spending the reward money.

“Wait, three-way share?” A woman
was stepping forward with a shotgun, perhaps the one Chris had heard
being discharged earlier. “What about me?”

“
You
didn’t do anything,”
Beechwood said.

“Neither did they,” the woman
said, pointing at Jacob and Sanderson. “They just nodded and
agreed.”

“Didn’t see you agreeing to
nothing,” Sanderson glared at her.

“Did you see me
not
agreeing to anything?” the irate woman snapped.

“Me, as well,” another man said,
stepping forward. “You going to shut me out of the deal because I
didn’t say anything?”

“
We
agreed to help turn in
Wooding,” Jacob said, indicating himself, Sanderson, and Beechwood.
“You weren’t in on it, as far as I can tell, and so you don’t
get a share.”

Chris saw that things were starting
to get heated and that the five might end up going for one another’s
throats. The six other men and women who had scattered when the drone
had first appeared also seemed to be getting ideas of what their
share should be. Chris cared for none of it. He didn’t trust the
drone, nor what it was offering. He noticed how the thing had become
decidedly mute since Jasmine Wooding had been turned in. The friendly
tone deployed when the drone had first arrived had gone, replaced by
one that was monotone and robotic. Chris had a hunch what was coming
next. Time to leave.

There were a couple of vehicles
parked up outside the diner, one with wheels, the other employing an
anti-gravity hover system. Given the choice, Chris would have gone
with the hover. It was faster, no traction or friction to slow it,
and usable on almost any surface. But he would take anything that was
available. He knew there was only a very slim chance that the keys or
starter card would have been left in either vehicle.

The men and women continued
bickering, gesticulating a great deal, pointing at Wooding, the
drone, and one another. Sanderson’s hand was dangerously close to
his holstered pistol. There was little doubt in Chris’ mind that
the moment he moved to pull it, chaos would erupt. Not that Chris
imagined the drone would seek to do anything to prevent a shoot out.

Jasmine Wooding was standing where
she had been brought, next to the drone. She was in a bad way, her
face red and blistered from the burns she had suffered. Her hands
were in a similar state, as was the skin that had been exposed
through her damaged uniform. Her eyes met Chris’ as he began making
his way towards the two vehicles, causing him to pause. Jasmine said
nothing but shook her head a very minute amount, cocking it ever so
slightly towards the vehicles.

Go
, she was saying.
Get
out of here. Save yourself. Forget about me
.

Chris nodded back to her.
I’m
sorry
.

Other than Wooding, no one was
paying him any attention; they were all too focused on one another,
arguing over who was more entitled to the riches promised in exchange
for the poor woman. But Chris had seen a starter card resting on the
table where some of the men and women had been sitting. It was for
the hover. He picked up the card as he skirted the table, made his
way quickly over to the vehicle, and used the card to enter and start
it.

“HEY!” a voice shouted.

Only once before had Chris driven a
vehicle such as this. Thankfully, it was quite a lot like using a
regular car. Only the handling differed. And right now, with the
hover facing directly down the road, he only needed to go straight.
He pushed the accelerator control on the steering wheel, and was
speeding away as one of the men came racing around the diner.

“SON OF A BITCH!” the man
screamed.

Chris continued to accelerate down
the road, towards the tall buildings of Tira’s cityscape, far in
the distance. He heard a bang, followed quickly thereafter by the
thump of shotgun pellets slamming into the back of the hover. Another
blast from the shotgun came soon after, though no pellets found him
this time. Even so, Chris slipped down a little in the seat, thumbing
the accelerator button on the wheel harder. No further shots came and
Chris saw through the rear view mirror that he was already a good
distance away from the diner and the hover’s original owner.

Chris needed to get to the city as
quickly as possible. He knew Sid Wilson was there somewhere, probably
holed-up in his flat. Declared a wanted man, the guy was even more
vulnerable now. With WEAPCO deploying drones to locate the most
prominent members of the Resistance and offering up that substantial
reward for their heads, Sid would be handed over quickly. Two hundred
and fifty thousand. That was a lot of money. Ten years’ salary for
most.

Chris thumbed the accelerator with
urgency, but found he was already pushing the hover as fast as it
would go. No matter, he would be at the city limits in a little under
ten minutes at this rate. The buildings loomed larger with each
passing moment, the features of the Wade-Ellen Spire, the tall WEAPCO
tower that presided over the city, becoming steadily more detailed.
It was glittering with light that issued from its many floors and
windows, the top of the spire projecting multicoloured, laser lights
out into the sky. They would become more visible as the sun set, and
the night drew in.

Chris then spied some objects on his
right-hand side, moving across the sky and kicking up dust as they
descended to the ground. WEAPCO bots, three of them. But not the
medical type the envoy drone had originally promised. These were
clearly sporting armaments, cannon arms sprouting from their sides.
Chris saw in the hover’s mirrors that they were speeding towards
the diner. It seemed that those who had handed over Wooding had now
realised that they had been deceived, the men and women scattering as
they saw the bots drawing nearer.

A few moments later, angry red bolts
erupted from the three bots’ cannons. They were as deadly as they
were accurate, two of the retreating figures falling to the ground as
the laser bolts struck them. The envoy drone held its ground, knowing
that its companions’ fire would not strike it. Jasmine Wooding was
still standing next to it. Then, as a bolt struck her, she was down.
There came flashes and the muffled sounds of pistols and the shotgun
as those around the diner attempted to defend themselves. They were
unsuccessful, as Chris had known they would be, their weapons having
little impact on the defences of WEAPCO’s robots.

Chris reached for his phone,
activating it. “Call The Doc,” he said, naming Sid by his
Resistance handle.

“Will call The Doc, unless you say
‘Cancel’,” the device affirmed.

The phone rang for a time but no one
picked up. Chris cancelled the call as it went through to the
voicemail system. Though Chris had exchanged a number of messages
with Sid Wilson, Chris had never actually spoken to him. Something
about Sid wishing to keep his true identity hidden. Chris could only
hope that it was serving him well.

A bright flash came from behind,
followed by a tremendous boom. The diner had been blown to pieces, a
fireball leaping skyward where it had once stood. Chris could just
about make out a vapour trail from one of the bots, where it had
apparently just loosed a rocket. The bloody things were psychotic!