Space Team: The Holiday Special Page 5

  “Bingo,” said Cal. He moved to step out of the elevator, but Morana held him back. She pointed past him, to where a group of mostly human-looking men in matching leather armor stood talking to what appeared to be a person dressed as a big rat. Cal had seen enough in the past few days that he knew it probably wasn’t a person dressed up at all, and was, in fact, just a big rat.

  Whatever it was, it looked frightened, and anything that could frighten a giant space rat was something to be avoided, that was Cal’s motto. Admittedly, it hadn’t been his motto for long, but he was damn sure it would be from this point on.

  The men all wore gun-metal gray helmets which attached to their armor at the back of the neck. From where Cal was standing, he couldn’t see the front of the helmets, but they seemed to be full-faced, designed to protect the wearer’s head, while simultaneously scaring the bejesus out of anyone who met them.

  “Bounty hunters,” Morana mouthed.

  Cal grimaced. “Great,” he muttered. The crowds were pretty thin around the elevator door, but quickly grew more densely packed together just a few dozen feet away. If they could get past the bounty hunters without them turning, they could feasibly use the crowd as cover all the way to Mumfle.

  If they could get past the bounty hunters. That was what it all came down to. And now, with their backs still turned, looked to be as good a time as any.

  “Come on,” Cal said, taking Morana by the wrist. They hurried out, Cal striding, Morana waddling a few steps behind him.

  “Happy Kroyshuk!” bellowed a grey-skinned creature with walrus-like tusks, lunging towards them. Cal nodded briefly in response and ducked past him, hauling Morana along.

  He dodged past a small knot of revelers, sticking close so he and Morana looked to be part of the same group. The main bulk of the crowd was just a few more feet ahead now. Cal spotted a narrow gap in the bodies and headed towards it.

  It was then that he made the mistake of checking on the bounty hunter situation. As he looked over, his eyes met those of the big rat. He whipped his head around to face front again, far too quickly for it to look natural, he realized.

  “Shizz,” he muttered, wanting to look back, but keen not to look even more suspicious. He waited until they’d reached the gap in the crowd, then chanced a quick peek back over his shoulder.

  The rat had one arm raised, a long, thin finger jabbing towards Morana. The bounty hunters had all about-turned, revealing their helmets to be even more intimidating than Cal had imagined them to be.

  “Uh-oh, time to go,” Cal said, shoving his way into the throngs of bodies. They were barely a few steps in when the first shot came. It screamed above their heads, a searing streak of blaster fire that slammed into the wall of a restaurant just ahead of them, shattering the window and scattering glass across the floor.

  Everyone in the crowd began to scream at once. They surged away from the approaching bounty hunters, carrying Cal and Morana along with them. Cal hissed and shrieked as his bare feet trampled through the shards of glass.

  “Ow! Fonk! Shizz! Fonk! Ow!”

  Another blast scorched the air. The crowd tightened around them, all screaming and elbows and trampling feet. Cal made it through the glass, holding onto Morana as tightly as he could. He risked a glance back in time to see the bounty hunters gunning down the back few rows of the rushing crowds. This only served to make the next few rows push forwards with even greater enthusiasm, and Morana screamed in panic as she and Cal were forced apart.

  There was a gap in the wall ahead, a narrow alleyway between two bars that was presumably some sort of staff access. Cal shoved himself backwards, grabbing for Morana’s sleeve. He hissed as a shard of glass wedged itself more deeply into his right foot, but then felt a surge of relief when he locked his hand onto Morana’s arm.

  Cutting right, they worked their way through the fleeing horde, keeping their heads low. Several of the things in the crowd were substantially taller and wider than Cal and Morana put together, so staying out of sight wasn’t too much of a problem.

  They stumbled out of the throngs and into the alleyway. “Come on, down here,” Cal urged, hobbling painfully away from the screaming crowds and the screeching blaster-fire.

  The alleyway turned into a couple of sharp right angles. They hurried down them, the sounds of chaos getting quieter and more distant with each turn. “Keep going,” Cal said. “I don’t think they saw us.”

  “What about that?” Morana asked. She pointed to the trail of bloody footprints that stretched out behind Cal. “They’ll follow those.”

  “Shizz!” Cal spat. He lifted the marginally more painful of his feet, looked at the sole, then wished he hadn’t. “Can you give me a piggy-back?”

  “No!” Morana said.

  “No, right, of course not,” Cal said. He clicked his fingers. “What if I gave you a piggy-back?”

  “How would that help?”

  Cal winced. “Yeah, you’re right, that doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “Down here,” crackled a voice from back along the alleyway. “They went this way.”

  Morana scampered ahead as fast as a heavily pregnant woman could possibly scamper. Cal shuffled behind her, his feet curved inwards so all his weight was on the outside edges.

  “Go, go, don’t wait for me,” he said, gesturing for her to run. She chewed her lip fretfully for a moment, then turned and rushed on, zig-zagging around another set of corners.

  Cal was closing on the first corner when he heard her cry out in panic. “No!” she yelped.

  “Shizz, what now?” Cal grimaced, hobbling faster. He made it around the z-bend and immediately spotted the problem.

  The alleyway opened up into a rectangular storage area that ended in a solid wall dead ahead of them. There were no doors. No way in or out, other than the route they’d just taken.

  They were trapped.

  And there was nowhere left to run.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cal turned, placing himself in front of Morana just as six bounty hunters flooded out of the alleyway and into the wider clearing. He held the sword in a way he hoped suggested he knew how to use it beyond a basic ‘stabby end’ and ‘non-stabby end’ level.

  “Hey, guys!” he said, trying to sound breezy and confident. He looked their matching uniforms up and down. “So, are you all dressed the same on purpose, or was it just an awkward coincidence?” he asked. “I bet you were all like, ‘Wait, I said I was wearing the leather armor and sinister helmet.’ Must’ve been pretty embarrassing.”

  The bounty hunters fanned out until they stood like a firing squad before him. Cal hobbled on the spot, gritting his teeth against the pain in his feet, and trying not to show how rapidly his fear levels were rising.

  “Anyway, I’m really sorry to disappoint,” he said. “I can’t let you take the girl.”

  “We don’t want the girl,” crackled one of the masked men, an audio waveform flickering across his helmet’s visor in time with his voice.

  Cal glanced back at Morana, then pointed to himself. “Wait… you’re here for me?”

  “The baby,” voiceboxed another of the men.

  “Right, yes, of course!” said Cal. “Gotcha. Makes sense.”

  He raised the sword. “But, you see, the thing is, I can’t let you take the baby, either,” he told them. “Although that thing you do with your mask and your voice is pretty fonking cool. I can see why you all decided to wear it. Hell, if I had a mask like that I don’t think I’d ever take it off.”

  While Cal spoke, all six of the bounty hunters simultaneously saw three things flash up beside a little target icon which appeared over his head in their in-visor display. The first was his name. The second was a word which, if viewed with a visual translator chip, would have approximated the word ‘Wanted.’ The third thing was the part they were most interested in. It was a number. A number with a lot of zeroes.

  “Cal Carver,” crackled the man in the center. “Looks like we do want y
ou, after all. Or someone does. This is going to be a more productive day that we thought.”

  All six weapons snapped up. Morana covered her eyes and pressed herself behind Cal’s back. “Guys, guys, wait!” Cal urged. He smiled weakly. “I mean, come on. It’s Kroyshuk. Season of peace and goodwill. Or, you know, something like that. It’s not a time to be rounding up completely innocent people in alleyways, it’s a time for friendship. For family.”

  He looked across at all six visors. “I mean, you’re kidnapping an unborn child. I’m pretty sure that’s, like, in the top ten worst things you can possibly do. Top twenty, anyway. A helpless infant being hunted by a wicked king – that’s not what Kroyshuk is all about.”

  None of the men had made any move to shoot him, so he took a breath and prepared to deliver the killer blow. “I mean… what would your moms think?”

  Silence fell. There were no screams from out in the main concourse any longer. The only sound was the distant jingle of piped music. It sounded quite festive, which Cal hoped would do his case no harm at all.

  “Oh good,” said the middle bounty hunter, as new data flashed up on his screen. “Dead or alive.”

  All six of the men’s blaster rifles swung to target Cal. He gritted his teeth, shut his eyes, held the sword up at an angle he hoped would miraculously deflect every one of the men’s shots at the same time, and braced himself.

  “Ugh. Like, who is that fat chick?”

  Cal opened one eye. A powerfully built figure stood behind the bounty hunters, her hairy head and toothy snout towering above them all.

  “Miz!” Cal cried. “Thank fonk for that.”

  Three of the bounty hunters spun on the spot, taking aim at Mizette. The others kept their sights trained on Cal.

  “Halt!” barked one of the masked men.

  “Halt yourself,” scowled Miz, sneering down at him. She eyeballed him for a few moments, then looked him up and down. “That armor is so last year, by the way,” she informed him, then she lifted her eyes to Cal again. “Seriously, who’s that?”

  “Uh, Morana, Miz, Miz, Morana,” said Cal, quickly. He gestured to the bounty hunters. “Possibly not the best time.”

  Miz glared at Morana, her eyes narrowed. “Whatever,” she said, at last. “Mech says you should move to the left.”

  Cal frowned. “Why?”

  “What am I, his secretary? He just said you should move to the left.”

  “My left or your left?”

  “He didn’t say,” said Miz, sounding more and more annoyed. “All he said was, ‘Tell him to move to the--”

  The wall on Cal’s right exploded. He moved left, pulling the screaming Morana with him. Two of the bounty hunters trained their weapons on the smoking hole and the pile of rubble on the ground in front of it.

  Mech’s metal frame whirred as he clanked through the gap in a cloud of masonry dust. The paint job he’d been given by Zertex was gone. It hadn’t been painted over, but removed somehow, as Mech now looked in the same scorched and battered state he’d been when Cal had first met him.

  “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can we?” Mech grunted. He stepped in front of Cal and Morana, his back to the gunmen.

  “Stand aside!” crackled one of them. Mech held up a finger.

  “One second. I’m talking to my boy here,” Mech told them. He nodded towards Morana. “Who’s the girl?”

  “Morana, Mech, Mech, Morana,” said Cal. “She’s pregnant.”

  “I can see that,” said Mech.

  “Wait… it’s not yours, is it?” demanded Miz.

  Cal leaned past Mech and shot Miz a reassuring smile. “Hey, come on, I’m fast, but I’m not that fast!”

  A bounty hunter swung his weapon to take aim at Cal’s head, and Cal quickly ducked back in behind Mech.

  There was a flash of movement by the hole in the wall. Loren rolled expertly through the gap and over the rubble, coming to rest on one knee, her blaster pistol drawn and already taking aim at the closest bounty hunter.

  “In position!” she announced.

  Miz rolled her eyes. “Hooray, we’re saved,” she said, then she sneered. “We totally had this before you arrived. You’re literally making no difference right now. You just look stupid.”

  The bounty hunters now didn’t know who to aim for. When there had been three targets and six guns, it had been simple math. Two guns per target. That was assuming you counted Cal and Morana as one target, which was fine as they were close enough together to be touching.

  Now, though, there were four targets and six guns, and from a pure division point of view, that didn’t work. Cal and Morana were both behind Mech, but the gunmen at each end of the line could still see them, which only served to complicate the whole aiming thing further.

  On the plus side, the inside of each bounty hunter’s visor was currently a switchboard of names and reward notifications. If they could round up this little lot, they could probably retire on the profits.

  “We’re taking you all in,” barked one of the bolder men. “Surrender, or be destroyed.”

  Mech clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, then tapped his forehead at Morana in a little gesture of salute. “Lady, you might want to avert your eyes,” he said.

  He turned to face the bounty hunters and regarded them in silence for a few long moments. “In fact… Miz, Loren,” he said, at last. “Why don’t you two take Cal and his lady friend somewhere?”

  “Aw!” Miz protested. “How come you get all the fun?”

  “Miz. Please,” said Mech.

  Miz sighed loudly, folded her arms and shoved her way through the line of gunmen, forcibly shouldering one of them aside. She trudged past Loren, over the rubble, and stopped just inside the hole. “So, are you, like, coming or what?” she demanded.

  Cal and Morana shuffled sideways out of Mech’s cover. An alternating number of guns followed them as they joined Miz on the other side of the hole.

  Loren straightened up, her blaster still raised, then retreated for the gap in the wall. “You be OK?” she asked.

  Mech snorted. “Come on. You serious?”

  “Have fun!” Cal called, then he popped his head around the edge of the hole again. “Oh, and once you’re finished, bring me one of their boots, will you?”

  He vanished into the hole, then popped back out again. “And by that I mean bring me the boots of one of them, not one boot. Just to be clear. Two boots.”

  “Gotcha,” said Mech.

  “A left and a right, don’t try to be cute by bringing me two identical boots or anything.”

  “Just go, man,” Mech said. “I’ll get you the fonking boots.”

  Cal gave him a thumbs-up, then waved briefly at the bounty hunters. “Bye, guys. Merry Kroyshuk.”

  He turned away, just as Mech reached for the big round dial fixed to the center of his chest. Turning it one way, Cal knew, cranked up Mech’s brainpower, making him super-intelligent, but at the cost of his physical strength.

  Turn it the other way, however, and Mech’s power levels were drastically increased, but his IQ dropped several dozen points.

  Cal didn’t see which direction Mech turned the dial, but judging by the animalistic roar that followed, and the high-pitched shrieks of the bounty hunters, he reckoned he could probably hazard a guess.

  Miz and Loren led Cal and Morana into a dark, noisy but semi-deserted nightclub. Smoke hung in the air like fog, proving a handy backdrop for a series of colorful laser lights that danced across the almost-empty room.

  A handful of panicked revelers were forcing their way out through an emergency exit, sobbing and screaming as they tumbled over each other in their rush to escape.

  “Great rescue, guys. Seriously, couldn’t have been better,” Cal said, raising his voice over the music. “A couple of minutes earlier wouldn’t have hurt, of course, and I might not have feet full of glass, but still… textbook stuff. How did you even find us, by the way?”

  “Miz
got your scent,” Loren explained. “Then Mech’s scanners picked you up.”

  “And she did absolutely nothing,” said Miz, flicking her eyes to Loren just for a moment.

  “Thanks,” said Loren, shooting her a deeply insincere smile.

  They crossed the hall in the direction of the fleeing crowds. “Wow. I guess Mech blowing the wall up really scared them,” Cal said, watching them all try to force themselves through the gap.

  “N-not that. I don’t think it was that,” said Morana, tugging on Cal’s sleeve. He turned to see the pirates he’d encountered in the hall outside his room marching across the dance floor towards them. One of them was being pulled along by a chain he gripped with both hands. A chain which was in turn attached to the collar of a heavily muzzled Godzilla-lion.

  “Oh, right,” said Cal. “So that’s the Oznark.” He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, of course it is.”

  Loren raised her gun and fired a couple of warning shots at the pirates. With a flick of its chain, the Oznark’s muzzle retracted into its collar, and the beast was unleashed. It bounded towards them, shrugging off Loren’s blaster shots, silvery strands of drool dribbling from its gaping jaws.

  “It’s not stopping!” Loren warned.

  The hair on the back of Mizette’s neck stood up. She dropped to her haunches, one hand pressing against the floor. “I got it,” she said.

  “What? Are you insane?” Cal yelped. “You can’t fight that thing! It’ll tear you apart.”

  “Ha! In its dreams,” Miz said, but even over the bluster of her growl, Cal could tell she didn’t quite believe her own words. “Get the fat chick out of here, if that’s what the plan is. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Go!” Loren said, unleashing another volley of fire at the pirates, forcing them back. Cal hesitated, but then felt Morana’s grip on his arm tighten. She groaned loudly, almost doubling over. When she straightened, there was a puddle of clear liquid at her feet.

  “Uh, Cal?” she said, her face a picture of oddly serene panic.