Stories

——–Start of Chapter Zero——–

So… I promised myself I’d write to my parents. I’ve only written them two letters in the past month, but at least I’m not leaving them totally in the dark. Maybe I should be, though. I don’t know if I should be worrying to them. Should I lie? Tell them everything’s great? I mean — it is great, they just might not see it that way.

This ship’s not so great, though. Thought it’d be easy to catch a ride. I’m still trying to learn all these ships, but there are just so damn many of them! I picked myself up a book on common ships and ship models. As far as I can tell, this is a modified ‘Amity’ or something, a nice sturdy, spacious ship with lots of unused space between its hulls and bulkheads, or something like that. I don’t know why, but I have a really bad feeling about this one.

Oh wait. Maybe it’s the illegal drugs they’re smuggling. Maybe that’s it.

Here I am on this transport ship; the guards are noisy and infrequent, while my shoes are soft and noiseless. I make sure to keep one hand clutching my pouch of extra bullets — I don’t want anyone to hear those rattling around in a moment of silence. Once I almost walked right into a guard and he still didn’t notice me. Probably those thick helmets they have on. It doesn’t seem like anyone suspects anyone is on board this ship, which is probably a good thing as they don’t seem like the kind of people to take too kindly to a stowaway. With a little flash of dark hair, I bolt down this hallway to the door at the end.
“Hey!” comes a voice from somewhere, and I panic for a moment. I play with the keypad on the door, swallowing uncomfortably. Ten numbers to choose from, four-digit code. Hey, what are my chances? Good, it seems. I tumble inwards, and do my best to quietly shut the door and let it lock itself again. I couldn’t attribute all that to luck, could I? “Who’s in here?” I whisper. Just paranoid, probably; it’s not like anyone could even tell I was out there.
Exploring the space for a time, I finally find a curious panel on the floor that I can wiggle loose — jackpot; I found the perfect hiding place. Squeezing myself into the darkness, I crawl around a bit and hope to god there’s nothing else down here besides these sacks and crates.
“Could I have possibly picked a worse hiding place?” I groan to myself. These hidden goods have got to be either illegal or extremely valuable. In any case, I struggle to close up the floor panel when I hear the door’s gentle swish open. Footsteps pass right over me. “I’m sure I saw someone,” says the person above, voice muffled by the helmet.

A corridor, one of many, lay before me as I walk through the ship, section by section. It’s a routine stroll, set up by the captain. “Weird man, that’s for sure.” I mumble quietly to myself just as his picture pops back into my mind. A bearded, old man, semi-long hair, and a face burdened by wrinkles and a fair lack of sleep. I would be expecting him on a ship, crossing stormy oceans and maneuvering dangerous waters, not smuggling drugs on an interstellar freighter.

And that was all I could think about, all that came to mind, while passing through the seemingly endless hallways. It feels like months already, what have been merely 9 days that Rafael Mirgaw, the captain, hired me as security. He did not care about my background, nor that I was in a hurry to get off Adria III. What he did not realize; I intentionally sought the ship. A dealer had tipped me off about the smuggling, and that there was a chance I could find a stash of IF-32 somewhere.

I did not feel comfortable wearing the security uniform my temporary colleagues wore, nor could I find myself breathe under a helmet. Mirgaw’s only comment was, “Don’t ye blame me, if it gets ye killed, lady.” Another turn and I am near the engine room, port side near the stern of this Amity type medium class freighter. “Hey!” echoes down the hallway and I instinctively dash towards the noise. The corridor’s doors were open all the way from port side to starboard. “Must be somewhere towards the bow, the source.” I ponder and pass through my second bulkhead on the corridor. An automatic door opens; I sprint left around a corner, and through the already closing door.
Some guy, fully armored, that I don’t recognize, is walking through the storage room. Despite my training my pulse is racing, “Must be the thinner air on the ship.” echoes in my head, interrupted by pounding heartbeat in my ears. The guy turns, facing me, and explains, “I’m sure I saw someone.”.

There are two illegal passengers on board, I know that much, without any intention of telling him or Mirgaw though. “You sure?” is all I can squeeze out as my glance passes crates stacked in the corners. Killing him would be too dangerous; still another 4 days until we reach Heron Capital Station near Heron VI. If I was found… I dared not think about it. No military training made you survive in the vacuum of space. So I quickly join the search, pretending, wasting precious time. Doubt spread like a plague, and very soon he shrugs and heads for the automatic door.

“One less thing to worry about.” crosses my mind as I look over my shoulder, while following him. Interrupted by this incident I lean against the wall a tad further back the way I came. The absence of footsteps makes the security guy turn around, staring at me. “What if he was right..?” I meet his stare, shifting my weight to the other leg. Sad, that’s how I’d describe the figure standing in the hallway, and just as I want to come up with more adjectives to describe him, he walks away. I slide down to the floor, my back against the metal wall.

Minutes later, perceived minutes at the least, I remember the routine stroll and jump back to my feet. It bugs me still, this incident, so I head back to the automatic door and punch my security ID into the panel.

I listen closely to the voices above me — one is muffled, the other more clear. “You sure?” asks the second guard, a female by the sounds of it. It’s not easy discerning voices through the floor panels and for that I’m relieved. It means I don’t have to worry about them hearing me down here, as long as I don’t sneeze or something.

They shuffle about above me, and I just hope neither of them knows about my hiding place… Even if one does, maybe that one doesn’t want to risk revealing it to the other. My heart pounds because I can’t know whether they’ll find me. I swallow hard, and worry they’ll hear my heartbeat, my swallowing, or the heavy breaths I’m taking. I feel an overwhelming sense of ‘home free’ as footsteps lead away, and the door swishes open again. I’m stifled down here… the air is stale.

“Kiva… this is your time to act. Our orbit…”
“I know. If I don’t take my chance now, I’ll have to wait half a year. Maybe more.”
“…”
“Thank you,” I smile.
He frowns and turns, “Listen. It’s not going to be safe out there for you.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” I ask suddenly, fear flooding over me. I thought I could trust him.
“No.” Once I come to my senses, I realize he’s holding a glove out to me — a beautiful thing. “Keep this with you always. It will protect you from harm, as much as it can.”
Before I can say anything more, he ushers me out of the door and I find myself running.
I don’t know where these tears are coming from.

I push the floor panel up — and it doesn’t budge. Pangs of claustrophobic fear set in, but a few more shoves and that panel pops off and falls away from me. I’ve got to get out of this room now. I grab a small bag of something — small containers always mean ‘valuable’ — and stuff it into a spare pocket. The floor panel is set back down, and I make sure it sets perfectly back into place. I shift some things around so it looks like it hasn’t even been touched. Then I begin to make my way to the door –

Beep beep beep beep.

Profanities echo throughout my head but I make sure not to let them leave my lips. I stare down at myself, and quickly unholster my small revolver. I’d hoped to not have to use this, but it looks like I’ll have to.

Swoosh.

I stand there, gun in both hands. I hardly tremble, as much as I do inwardly. It takes a second for me to adjust my aim to point the barrel directly at the head of the guard standing there. This pale, white-haired woman certainly isn’t the kind of person I was expecting but she’s… a guard nonetheless, right? I’m not sure if she is an enemy or not, but there’s no use risking it. I wonder if she’d be the kind of person to pull some high-speed moves I couldn’t hope to follow with my eyes but I’d rather not shoot her.

“Don’t move,” I say, more coldly and less firmly than I mean to. “I won’t shoot you unless you do exactly what I say,” I continue slowly, lowering my voice. I beckon her inside with a motion of my head.

I draw up a mental plan. This woman, the guard, will have to be dealt with. I’ll have her crawl under the floor panel, and then I’ll… no, that won’t do… I don’t know how much longer this ship is going. She might starve. Maybe I’ll seal the storeroom door. Short out the keypad? I don’t know. I don’t have a plan. I do want to make sure she is in the room before I keep thinking about this too much, though. “G.. get in. Close the door behind you.”

Each number causes the panel to beep unpleasantly. 3, 7, 1, 0 and the light on the panel turns green. Calmly I watch the door push open, and as my vision clears, I stare into the muzzle of a 6-shot revolver. Surprise, nothing to worry about. A smirk sneaks onto my lips, simultaneously my eyes begin to sparkle, I can feel it.

Gunfire everywhere. The ground shakes on impact of each bomb. Dust is everywhere, mixed with pieces of bricks and concrete from the ceiling and walls.

The task was to secure the ambassador, and the enemy secured the building before we even dropped. Thunder shakes the sky and lightning causes an unnatural illumination. Some gun impacts to the left, more dust rises. Friga’s yell penetrates the surrounding noises “Forward!”. I dash around the corner, the K87S with armor-penetrating bullets taking out an enemy behind a table near the end of the hallway. Another tight corner right, secured. Behind me a door cracks, quickly I turn, and five special ops, armed to the teeth, point their guns into my direction.

“Don’t move, I won’t shoot you unless you do exactly what I say.” A cold voice pulls me back into reality. The smirk is still present, and my military training kicks in. No fear, no retreat. I blink twice, and assess the situation. One step to get inside the room, six long steps to reach the woman with the distractingly huge bust. For a second her brain stops working, just staring at the woman.
The voice again, “G.. get in. Close the door behind you.” and two option pop into my head, twirl left, hide behind the wall next to the door and see what happens; sprint into the room, turn right, two more steps, and use the kinetic forces the slide across the metal, until I can kick her opponent from her feet, making her lose balance.
Subconsciously I am already accessing the ship’s database, more precise the blueprints of this section. No exit- or entry point apart from the door.
Another blink, the smirk shifts into a smile, and even before the woman finishes her sentence, I have rotated right, now hunkering down next to the door, back against the wall. I pull the knife from the sheath, with my left hand. “No exit there, pretty Miss, none except this one!” my yell echoes slightly around the corner, turning my head right, towards the open bulkhead. A serious expression occupies my face.

I could take a bullet, if I only got one of those armor suits everyone else has. But no, Aya does not need stuff like that. Aya came from the military. Fuck the military.

Right, the woman, or is she still a girl? Think, Aya, think! How to attack this? I don’t care much for her, nor the other passenger. Wait for a reaction, if she runs, I stop her, if she stays, well… we will see about it. By the gods, she is well-proportioned. I wonder… cut the crap Aya!

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.” I try the backup plan, there is a feint chance this can be resolved peacefully and I can go on searching for IF-32, “I am not who you think I am.” My voice is calm, emotionless. I sit there, waiting for a noise, reaction, anything. Careful not to be overpowered.