Space Bandits 7: Bustin’ outta Prison
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We finally knew where in the universe we were. Our position was less than one light-year from the star system Alpha Centauri, a stepping-stone to Sharmali Centauri, the nearest star-system to Earth with a habitable planet. An astronomer in Sweden found the planet, Sharmali, in 2034. Man colonized it in 2042 and it has thrived since. The Federal presence in this area was relatively light, as there is only one planet with a population numbering only in the billions. Other systems in the Federal Colonies have a few planets with quadrillions of citizens.
I was on my way to turn myself in for grand theft water. Jude and Rudy were flying on my starboard side in my ship, the Sativa. Guile was in the Waldron on the port side. I could see Jude through the green tinted cabin windows. She looked beautiful in front of a starlight background. Guile radioed me when we were 1000 km out from Sharmali Station.
“Sir, we are nearing detection range. Should we wait here?” he asked.
“Affirmative,” I responded. I opened a new channel, “Mick, you read me?”
“Loud and clear,” the familiar voice said.
“Alright, buddy, I am putting the crew in your hands. Cutting all radio contact now. I hope you know what you’re doing,”
“I hope so too,” he replied.
I neared the station. It was a defense station. Shuttle bays lined its lower walls. A hundred or so small, one-man ships waited eagerly to destroy any threat to the planet. I ignored incoming radio signals. The freight lazily cruised toward the station. I killed the forward engines and drifted. No warning signs, yet. Soon, they would run my ship ID numbers and know exactly whom I was.
“Attention, your ship is listed stolen. Prepare to be boarded,” said a transmission on the emergency channel.
“Here it comes,” I said out-loud to myself. I unhooked my harness and waited. Ten ships with flashing blue and red lights launched from the station. They descended on my position. The sheriff landed on the freight. I opened the airlock for him. I could hear his heavy boot steps as he neared the bridge door.
“Open up, this is the Federal Sheriff of Sharmali, we know it’s you Kox,”
“Oh great, who is this clown?” I said under my breath. I opened the door without getting out of my chair.
“Stand up, you’re under arrest,” the sherrif replied. His voice sounded eerily familiar.
“Franky!?” I was shocked.
“Shut up Cap,” he said through clenched teeth.
“How? I knew Mick had a plan, but — how?” I asked.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he was handcuffing me,”anything you say or do can be used against you in the court of Law. You have the right to an attorney”
Sheriff Franky escorted me out to his ship. We left and had a chance to talk while the other officers flew the freighter into the fueling port.
“Mick and I were transported aboard this incredible ship, Cap,” he told me. “Technology like you wouldn’t believe. I thought they had killed Mick. I saw his dead body, but it was missing the head and spine. I guess they have a way of preserving consciousness artificially somehow. The aliens gave a false command from Federal to promote me to sheriff of this station. I flew Mick’s ship into port, and no one asked any questions. They gave me a gun, this fancy uniform and everything,”
“My God, ol’ Mick’s done it again,” I laughed.
“Look, sir, I am going to have to put you in a jail cell until your trial in 24 hours,” he explained.
“I understand.”
Franky flew us into Sharmali Station. He had his own special port labeled with a 6-point star above, the sheriff symbol. He led me off the ship in handcuffs, through a series of hallways and down a locked elevator. We arrived in a stinky jail pit. Iron bars sectioned off 4 x 4 foot rooms with toilet holes and cots made of metal.
“In here, scum,” he said. Franky was selling the role. He pushed me into an empty cell and I fell onto the hard concrete.
“When’s chow time?” I asked.
“Whenever I say it is, boy!” Franky shot back. Criminals make the best police officers.
Guile, Jude, and Rudy were waiting for a transmission from Mick 1000 kilometers out from the station. Mick was waiting until Franky passed along the message that refueling of the freighter was complete. The crew fell asleep. It took almost a day to refuel a freight of that size.
“Attention! Franky will not respond to my messages. Get up you knuckle heads!”
“I resent that,” said Jude, her eyes remained closed.
“Aw little lady, get your ass up and over to the station,”
“What’s the deal, Mick?” asked Guile, rubbing his eyes.
“Wake up. Kox is in jail and Franky is M. I. A.,” he responded
“Great, I knew we couldn’t trust that guy,” Jude said.
“Let’s whoop some ass!” shouted Guile as he punched his engines leaving Jude and Rudy in his wake.
“The captain’s cell is number 117. From the outside, it’s 16 degrees off center counter-clockwise, 12 meters up,” Mick relayed to Guile.
“Read you,” Guile said. He was ready for action. His ship was armed with a deadly accurate laser cannon.
“Punch in this access code, I am going to take control of your laser,” Mick instructed.
“Your commands will be delayed, I can do it,” Guile responded.
“You are a knuckle head.”
“Mick, what should we do?” asked Rudy.
“You are the decoy,”
“Oh greaaaaat,” said Jude.
“Fly in high. The tower will see you first and send out the militia while Guile frees the cap,”
“And the freight?” asked Rudy.
“The captain is our priority right now,”
“Mick, I swear, if this plan goes down the shitter, I’ll have your head,”
“Too late,” said Mick. He laughed. They all did. It was nervous laughter.
Guile came in towards the station from directly below. A gravity sensor was the only thing that could detect that blind spot. Jude and Rudy distracted the tower from above, so the gravity sensor trigger was never set. Guile’s laser was strong enough to melt the hull like butter. He aimed 16 degrees counter-clockwise 12 meters up. He fired. The shot was two degrees off clockwise. I saw the man in the cell next to me disintegrate in a fiery mess before my eyes. Fear like you would not believe shot through my body. I jumped to the window and peered outside. This was not in the original plan. Guile fired again. This time he was on target. I dove for the far corner of my cell. The wall erupted in a fireball. I was whisked outside by the tremendous pull of air rushing out. A human body can survive for 8 minutes in the dead of space.
These were the most uncomfortable minutes of my life. My eyes bulged out of their sockets. The temperature must have been negative 50 degrees Celsius. My body was numb instantly. The blood in my veins was like syrup. I was suffocating to boot. Guile opened his airlock and the computer guided his ship for a perfect recovery. They designed the airlock for catching stray bodies. It was a normal occurrence in our world. It shot hot fresh O2 into the sealed airlock. I was alive again. I took a seat behind Guile.
“You fried somebody next to me,” I said.
“Collateral damage,” he said coldly. “Jude’s in trouble topside,”
