The cargo vessel Hancock dove into Planet 4358's upper atmosphere and began its third attempt at a landing. The planet's surface... a miasma of red and orange streaks... rolled and tilted in the main cockpit display as ship's nemesis came into view like the rising of an angry sun.

The storm covered the planet's entire surface... monstrous in size and power. Its 400 mile per hour winds were so saturated with metallic dust that the ship's sensors registered it as a solid mass. To the ship, the storm WAS the surface of the planet, which made instruments almost useless. The Hancock continued to turn and roll... the young pilot trying a much steeper angle than before. The storm that was once below them was now off to one side ahead... then ahead... and finally it was all around them ship, swallowing the vessel in its huge cyclonic maw. Fierce winds ripped at the vessel like the claws of a living thing. Tiny metallic particles scoured the hull... stripping it one millimeter at a time. The vessel rattled and jerked with exponentially increasing violence.

The pilot, eyes dry and bloodshot, fought to maintain control. He pulled back on the short control stick. The ship's engines tried to respond, but lacked the power to obey him. He re-routed power from non-essential systems and sent it pouring into the main navigational thrusters. The ship roared and bucked like an animal... but still its nose yielded to the impossibly strong wind. He was losing. The vessel was on the verge of spiraling out of control. The pilot threw his weight into the stick once more. He turned the ship into the wind and fired the thrusters with every scrap of power he could find. He angled the ship upward, but a gust of wind... a storm within a storm... caught the aft section and spun it around like a child's toy. Hull stress and heat indicators topped out at danger levels, initiating a symphony of blaring alarms and blinking lights in the cockpit. The inertial dampeners were just a hair away from shredding themselves... and that would be the end of them. The rotation and level sensors indicated that the ship was standing still, and the atmosphere sensors said that the Hancock was flying straight and narrow through a mountain of solid iron. The cockpit display was useless... showing nothing but a reddish orange blur. The pilot snarled at it and continued to wrestle with the controls.

Behind him, the occupant of the co-pilot's chair took a deep breath and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. A sudden hit of turbulence nearly sent his finger straight into his eye.

"Richards," he said in a smooth, subdued voice. "I thought you said you could fly this ship."

"This ship wasn't made for this!" the pilot yelled back.

"You said you could fly it. You said you could get us to 4358. I assumed you meant in ONE PIECE!"

"I'm trying the best I can!"

"Your best is going to get us killed."

"No... I've almost GOT IT!"

The ship's spiral ended... turning into something even worse. The vessel twisted violently to one side... then the other. The turbulence doubled as the ship tried to force its way through the wind. A low moaning vibrated through the ship as portions of the hull began to yield to the strain. A second sound soon joined it... the loud banging of cargo and heavy equipment bouncing around the inside of the cargo hold. There was a loud BOOM and shook the entire vessel even more violently than the storm-driven turbulence.

"We just lost a secondary engine!" Richards screamed. The ship began another downward spiral that ended only when Richards unbuckled his leg restraints, placed both boots on the edge of the control board and pushed back with the control stick grasped tightly in his hands, using his legs as well as his arms and back to fight the stick for control.

The Hancock rotated... twisted... shook and shuddered... but it did not spiral. He was holding it. Barely.

"GRRRRRNNNN!!!!" Richards grunted as he tried to force the ship to obey him through sheer force of muscle.

"This is enough," said Stryger. He tapped a button on the arm of the copilot's chair. A rectangular image appeared in front of him, hovering at eye level and optimum viewing distance. It showed the crew compartment, where five people sat strapped in chairs. None of them looked happy, but three of them looked significantly less so than the remaining two.

"--THE HELL IS GOING ON UP THERE, STRYGER!" yelled a short, thin man with red hair.

"Our pilot's performance is somewhat less than anticipated, Gilliam," said Stryger "Perhaps one of our guests is willing to lend their assistance?"

"WHAT ARE YOU PIRATES DOING TO MY SHIP!!" howled the blond woman seated across from Gilliam. Her hands and feet were bound with wire, as were those of the men on either side of her.

"I'm trying to land it!" Richards shouted. "This damned storm... I lost the number four thruster, I think!"

The blond woman scowled as the violent rattling of the ship increased.

"Well, then" said Gilliam. "Are you gonna help us out or not?"

"What do you want... me to get up and fly this thing for you? Forget it!"

"If this ship crashes, we all die," said Stryger.

"We're NOT gonna crash!" Richards grunted. "We're NOT!"

"It is in your best interest to help the common good, Ms. Shaw."

"What... you don't wanna die?" said the captain. "You shoulda thought about that before you hijacked my ship and put some rookie behind the controls! You can fly this ship into the nearest asteroid for all I care!"

"Gilliam," said Stryger.

Gilliam reached down beside his seat and retrieved his plasma discharger. It was a large, ugly weapon. Gilliam aimed it at the older, dark-haired man sitting on Captain Shaw's left.

"Here is where we test the strength your conviction, captain," Stryger said over the intercom.

"HEY-"

Bernard 'Bandit' Hanson was a cargo loader. He was a handsome man with tan skin, slick hair and a toned, muscular upper body that he loved to show off to everyone who cared to look. When Gilliam fired his weapon, Bernard's head exploded in a sizzling spray of flesh, blood and bone. His remains fell limp in the chair's restraints. His head, neck, and upper chest were gone... splattered over the tiny room and its occupants like red paint. What remained of his chest was charred and sizzling. The stench of burnt flesh and spent plasma hung thick in the room.

"YOU BASTARD!" Shaw spat. Her face and clothes were covered in Branson's blood.

Gilliam calmly pointed the gun at the person on the other side of Bernard's corpse... mechanic and co-pilot Ethan Forge.

"Now, Ms. Shaw," said Gilliam. "Going down in a blaze of glory is one thing. Everyone dies at once... No guilt. But if this ship crashes, I can guarantee that you will be the ONLY member of your crew still alive to experience it."

"Your call, captain," said Forge. "But I say you don't give these guys a damned thing!"

Gilliam's finger began to pull back on the trigger. Forge sat up straight in his seat, stuck out his chest, and clenched his teeth. He looked Gilliam straight in the eyes.

"You lost the number four thruster," Shaw said into the intercom. "Cut power to number three... shut it down and-"

"She's PLAYING with us!" Richards shouted. "That would kill us for sure!"

"You WANTED my help, now you GOT it. Thrusters three and four act in parallel... you burn one without the other and all you end up doing is flying in a DAMNED CIRCLE! Now CUT the power and reroute it to the secondary dampeners!"

"There ARE no secondary dampeners!" said Richards. He looked back at Stryger. "This is an F38 cargo ship! This ship doesn't HAVE secondary-"

"The Hancock is an F38-C! MODIFIED! The switches are on the main panel, lower right... my GOD you don't even know what kind of SHIP YOU'RE FLYING!"

Richards saw the switches.

"This could be a self-destruct for all we know!" he screamed.

"Then go ahead kill us," Stryger said calmly. "Since you're doing it already."

Richards did as Shaw instructed. He cut the number three thruster and sent the power that it was consuming into the secondary dampeners. The violent turbulence that was shaking the ship apart decayed away to almost nothing.

"Instruments are still haywire," said Richards. "And I'm BARELY in control of this thing! She didn't do a damned thing to get us closer to the ground!"

"I CAN land this ship," said Shaw. "But I can't do it over the intercom."

"Gilliam," said Stryger. "Escort Ms. Shaw to the cockpit."

"On our way." Gilliam offered his weapon to the Asian woman sitting next to him. She accepted it with a dainty hand and, instead of pointing it at the prisoners, rested it in her lap and continued her disinterested silence.

Gilliam untied captain Shaw's legs, then removed the straps that kept her secured to her chair. He left the cord binding her wrists.

Gilliam retrieved his discharger and placed the muzzle into the small of Shaw's back.

"You know the way better than I do," he said. "Start walking. Slowly. Move something I don't like and you'll have one more hole to add to yer collection. Only I don't think this one'll be givin' ya any pleasure."

Gilliam followed Shaw down a short corridor, rounded a corner, and found herself in the cramped cockpit where Richards was still struggling with the controls.

"I can't do anything with my hands tied," said Shaw. Stryger produced a knife from his inside vest pocket and used it to slice the cord free. Gilliam jabbed the gun into Shaw's back... forcing her forward a step.

"Move back, Richards."

"Are you SURE you wanna do this," said Richards.

"Was that a question?" said Stryger. "Were you just... questioning me?"

"No. No, I would never-"

"Lock the controls and step aside," said Shaw. She squeezed between the two rear seats... one of which was empty... and grabbed the control stick. He hands clamped down on it just as Richard's released. Richards stepped back and sat down in the cockpit's third seat, next to Stryger. He and Shaw both strapped themselves in.

"Try not to kill us any sooner than THIS one would have," Gilliam frowned at Richards, then made his way back to the crew compartment.

"Glad you could join us, Ms. Shaw." said Stryger.

"We ain't on the ground yet," said Shaw. She looked at the instruments, and then at the main cockpit monitor. "Where the hell ARE we!?"

"Planet 4358," said Stryger.

"You hijack my ship to fly it to THIS hole?! You're CRAZY!"

"Indeed," said Stryger.

"Just get us on the ground!" said Richards.

"Instruments are useless. Vision is zero. And thanks to your 'ace pilot', we've blown one engine and can't use another. There's no way we can beat this wind with what we've got. Guess there's only one thing for it..."

Shaw reached overhead and began flipping the main power breakers. The Hancock's over-sized main engines sputtered and died; the cargo ship began to rattle violently again as the storm's winds claimed it once more.

"SHE'S CUTTING POWER TO THE ENGINES!" Richards roared. "SHE'LL KILL US ALL!"

"We can't FIGHT the storm-"

"You'll FLY us into a MOUNTAIN!"

"You didn't say anything about mountains..." said Shaw. "Not that it makes a difference. This ship was made for speed in deep space, NOT navigating dust storms. We don't have the thrust OR the mass to punch through this. No matter what I do, this storm is gonna take us wherever it wants us to go... so why waste time and fuel trying to fight it!"

Shaw pushed some more buttons on the control panel. "Re-routing power... inertial dampeners at maximum... I hope everybody's strapped in, because this is gonna get ugly...er."

Without its powerful engines resisting the mighty pull of the storm, the Hancock shuddered and spiraled out of control... at the complete mercy of the alien planet. But with no resistance from the thrusters, the wind had no opposing force to help it tear the ship apart. The stress on the ship's hull fell drastically as the Hancock spun faster. The intensity of the turbulence rose and fell in chaotic random bursts, punctuated by loud bangs as airborne debris impacted the hull. Instrument readings alternated between completely worthless to the utterly ridiculous. This loud and violent hell continued for nearly five minutes... when it abruptly ended.

Free of the violent winds, the ship began to fall from the sky like a stone.

Shaw immediately fired the engines and pulled back hard on the control stick. The Hancock jerked forward, its path transforming from a straight drop into a rapid downward spiral as the captain fought momentum and gravity for control of her ship.

"Localized eye" said Stryger. "Use these moments of control to drop us underneath the winds. The storm is confined to the mid-atmosphere, if we can get under it-"

"That's what I'm DOING!" Shaw snapped.

"Not fast enough. We don't have much time. The eye is very small and very fast. The winds will catch us-"

"This would be a lot easier if your 'pilot' hadn't fried my engine!"

"I was trying to-" Richards began. Stryger cut him off.

"You are not helping."

"Neither are YOU!" Shaw snapped. "Everybody shut up, hold on, and SHUT UP!"

Shaw abandoned the semi-controlled spiral and returned to a straight dive. For a few horrifying moments the planet's reddish-orange surface seemed to reach up toward the cockpit display. In the two seats behind Shaw, Richard screamed while Stryger's manicured fingertips gripped the chair.

Shaw didn't flinch. She fixed her eyes on the display and focused on absolutely nothing, taking in all of instruments in her peripheral vision. Even the vibration of the stick in her hands was a vital stream of information.

The ship began to vibrate... then pull violently in one direction.

"The winds-" Stryger began.

"Almost clear!"

"LOOK!" Richards pointed at the display, where the surface had transformed from featureless red dunes to jagged patches of orange rock. "We're close to the mountains, we don't have the space for this kind of maneuver!"

"We don't have a lot of options here, either!"

"Can you get us to the other side of the mountain range, Captain Shaw?" said Stryger.

"Did you not hear what I said about options!? We land where we- SHIT!"

The ship tilted and veered away from a monstrous outcropping of stone.

"I told you! The space between the storm and the surface is NOT empty! You'll get us killed!"

"Then we die because YOU flew us here! Congratulations!"

The ship veered the other direction. Horizontal became vertical for a staggering instant, but before the captain could complete the maneuver, the Hancock struck something solid. It was a glancing blow, but it came at the worst time, sending the ship into a barrel-roll-

"SHIT! We lost-"

The second impact was as solid as it was sudden. The unsettling sound of screaming metal filled the ship. The Hancock changed directions, literally bouncing off of some unknown, alien mountainside and dropping once again... this time with no hope of recovery.

The cockpit display... not a window, but a floating image from exterior sensors... blinked out.

"We're done!" said Richards. "We're blind! We're DONE!"

"Blind and paralysed," Shaw spat. The control stick was loose in her hand, but she kept moving it... trying to coax the tiniest bit of thrust from the engines. If they had any to give, they were steadfastly refusing to wield it on her behalf. They had given up, even if she had not. "But we're not dead until we're dead!"

Shaw cut and then restored power to the engines. No response. She then cut power to the entire ship.

The cockpit was completely black for an instant, then the locally-powered instruments lit the tiny room with a multitude of colors... all signifying dire warnings and alarms. Shaw restored main power-

The cockpit display blinked on in front of them.

No sky. No ground. Only a red mountainside growing larger as they dove toward it.

"C'mon, PLEASE!"

Shaw pushed on the stick, and the engines responded! Shaw didn't have time to level or slow down. She sent the ship into another roll... this one intentional. The looming mountainside became a vortex of stone... in which a tiny dot of clear sky danced past. Shaw adjusted the ship's course, veering back toward it.

A cleft of open space greeted them from between two spires of rock.

"You can't make thaAAAAAA-" Richards and the Hancock both screamed... the former from panic, the later from metal being peeled off of its hull. Shaw threaded the cleft, but it was too close. Metal met stone, and each yielded to the other. When it had pushed its way clear, the ship tilted downward.

"Oh God," Shaw gasped as she tried to level the failing ship before it hit the rocky ground. The impact was unavoidable, but if they could slow the ship down, straighten it out and get it level-

The engines decided to obey her one last time. Almost level... Almost straight... but not nearly slow enough, the Hancock hit the red surface and left a long burning trench in its wake as it finally came to a halt.

Wounded metal continued groaning for several seconds after the ship stopped moving... but soon it, too, fell silent.

In the cramped cockpit, Richards looked around nervously. Stryger kept his eyes on the captain.

"That's... how you land... a goddamn ship!" Shaw sighed. Her hands dropped away from the controls, but she made no effort to move or leave the pilot's chair. She was tired.

Stryger hit the intercom.

"Gilliam, report," he ordered.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT SHIT!" came the angry, and clearly terrified shout. "THAT WASN'T A LANDING, IT WAS AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT! BITCH TRIED TO KILL US ALL!"

"See," Richards said, unbuckling his belt. "He agrees."

"Report," Stryger ordered again.

"Nobody's dead, if that's what ya mean."

"Prepare the suits..." Stryger glanced at the controls in front of the motionless Shaw. "Do it now, this ship will not protect us for very long."

Shaw opened her eyes.

"Protect?"

"4358's atmosphere is poisonous. You bounced us off of a mountain, captain; do you really think our little steel bubble will hold up after that?"

Shaw unbuckled her restraint and climbed out of the chair. She stumbled at her first step, but Stryger grabbed her arm-

-and violently shoved her out of the cockpit, like the hostage she still was.

She stumbled into the corridor with Richards falling in behind her.

Stryger eyed the cockpit’s control board, alive with lights and alarms. The ship may not have been functional, but its nerve center was still going through its death throes. Stryger produced a small weapon from his pocket. The mini-blaster was barely larger than his hand, but four rapid shots drew a shower of sparks from the board. More lights came on, and then the entire board went black amid a sudden rush of thick smoke.

"What are you-!” Captain Shaw turned and tried to throw herself at Stryger, but a snarling Richards drove his fist into her gut. Richard’s wasn’t strong, but he was furious, and Shaw was not expecting the blow. Her own shock and anger became a yelp of pain as she almost collapsed-

-only to have Richards grab her by the neck and propel her down the corridor before him.

Stryger followed them, stepping out of the burning cockpit just as the fire door slid shut.

Ethan was waiting for them with Gilliam’s blaster pressed firmly to his back.

"Shaw! I heard shots!”

"He shot her!” said the Captain.

"An act of mercy,” Stryger explained. "Best to put the ship out of its misery rather than have the two of you entertain suicidal notions of getting it working again.”

"Not that they’ll get the chance,” said Gilliam. "You two ready for a walk in the fresh air?”

"What’s he talking about?” said Ethan.

"We’re abandoning the ship,” Shaw replied.

"Abandoning it for WHAT?” Ethan cried. "There’s nothing out there but air we can’t breathe!”

"Saying it doesn’t make it true,” Richards muttered as he squeezed past Ethan. "You think we came here for nothing?” Behind Gilliam, the Asian woman was sliding a large cargo case out of a floor-level storage bin. Richards knelt down and punched the combination into the faceplate. When it unlocked, he lifted the lid, revealing four impact/containment suits, complete with full helmets.

"What"” Ethan began. "You WANTED to crash on this rock?”

"Do not confuse desire with preparation,” Stryger replied. "You too, Gilliam. I’ll watch the prisoners.” Stryger produced his palm-sized weapon and pointed it lazily at Ethan.

"Meh,” Gilliam spat. "You still carry that little thing?”

"More power per unit size than your monstrosity,” Stryger said, smiling. "More easily concealed, and a slower death for anyone on the receiving end.”

"I’ve never been interested in killing people slow,” said Gilliam. He stepped back and kept his weapon pointed at the prisoners until Stryger urged him on with a nod.

Shaw eyed Stryger and his weapon carefully, then turned around to watch the others, giving Ethan a quick glance as she did. Ethan turned as well.

"Don’t,” he whispered. "These people are serious.”

"I know,” said Shaw. "That’s why we don’t need to let them take us any further.”

"Doesn’t look like we have a choice.”

"There’s always a choice.”

"You say this after you get us on the-" Ethan paused when he saw the silent woman staring at him. She was either reading his lips or she had very good ears" but either way, their conversation had been noticed.

He stared back.

"I wouldn’t do that, lad,” said Gilliam. "Tandem doesn't like bein' stared at. And hush your whisperin’ while you’re at it.”

Minutes later, Gilliam, Richards and Tandem were fully dressed in suits of black, tear-resistant synthetic fabric reinforced with wire mesh and armored padding. Gilliam held his helmet in one hand and his gun in the other.

"Stryger,” he said, nodding to the remaining suit.

"Wait a minute,” said Ethan. "There’s only one suit left in there.”

"And he does math, too! Lad must be some kind of genius!”

"What about the two of us!”

"What about you?” Stryger said and he and Gilliam switched places. Stryger donned his impact suit while Gilliam covered the prisoners.

"The atmosphere out there is-"

"Quite deadly, but not chemically poisonous,” Stryger finished. "There is oxygen, but the dust that comes with it will shred soft tissues. I’m told that it's like breathing powdered glass. I’ve seen the way it kills and it isn’t pleasant. But goggles and an air filter will keep your lungs on the inside, where they belong.”

"So why are YOU wearing the full containment-"

"Because WE have the guns, aye?” Gilliam growled.

"Here." At the bottom of the container, beneath the final suit were three pairs of goggles and three air filter masks. There was also a wrist computer, which Stryger kept for himself after handing the other items to Shaw and Ethan.

"Guess he won't be needin' his, eh?" Gilliam smiled at the headless corpse still strapped to its seat. "I wonder if, in the end, he'll be the lucky one out of the lot of ya."

"You-" Shaw began.

"Go ahead," Gilliam chided her. "Call us monsters. I rather enjoy that, and I know Stryger does."

"What do you want with us?" said Ethan.

"That's an interesting question," said Stryger. He lowered his helmet over his head and adjusted the seals. Tandem, Gilliam, and Richards did likewise. "Goggles and masks. Richards... the door."

"IF ya can manage that," Gilliam added.

Richards managed just fine. It only took a few seconds for him to disengage the safety interlocks and open the exterior door in the rear of the ship. Hot, dusty air sucked all the moisture out of the Hancock as its atmosphere vented out.

Stryger went outside first. Richards followed in a manner very much like a puppy following its master.

"I could have landed us. Without bouncing us off a mountain. I had it under control-"

"If you have something to prove to me, Richards, then the way to do it is with actions, not words," Stryger returned.

"I know," said Richards. "I'm just saying-"

"Nothing. You were just saying... nothing."

"Out." Gilliam nudged Ethan with his gun.

"If you poke me with that thing one more time-"

"Then you'll just be poked, now get out there! Both of ya."

Ethan and Shaw hopped out onto the sand.

"My God, what is that smell!" said Shaw.

"What smell?" Gilliam fell in behind them, with Tandem bringing up the rear. Gilliam tapped his faceplate. "I don't smell anything."

"Sulfur," Stryger answered from the front of the party. "Don't worry; it's safe. If your filters weren't working properly you'd know by now." Stryger smiled and activated the small computer he had attached to his right forearm. Richards watched him tap the buttons... and so did Ethan.

"How far?" said Richards.

"A comfortable walk," was all Stryger said. He pointed to an outcropping of rock and started walking.

"How far to WHAT?" Ethan called. "Where are we going?"

"Into history," said Stryger. He paused and turned to face them. It was the first time they'd seen the man smile... but it wasn't a smile of amusement or humor. It was the sinister grin of a predator. "Into history," he repeated, then started walking again. "Up here, Gilliam!"

"Aye. Watch 'em, Tandem." Gilliam moved past Ethan and Shaw and joined Stryger at the front, where the two men had a conversation that neither Ethan or Shaw could hear. Ethan glanced back at the woman bringing up the rear.

Tandem stared at him like a bird studying a particularly juicy insect. Her eyes were... strange. As was everything else about her.

...as was the fact that she was "guarding" them without a weapon. Ethan slowed his pace, putting some space between him and Shaw.

"You don't talk much," he said to Tandem.

Tandem regarded him with the same steady glare.

"So what is this? You WITH one of these guys? Stryger, maybe? He hasn't said two words to you. Gilliam? The kid... Richards?"

No reply.... the woman just kept staring.

Good. Perfect.

Ethan got closer to her, making sure to block her view of Shaw.

Shaw was moving as well, speeding up and getting behind Gilliam as quietly as she could.

"There were a hundred ships that could have gotten you to this planet," Ethan continued. "Why ours? Why us? And where are you taking us? Do YOU even know or are you in the dark like we are? Do they bother to tell you anything? I'm betting they don't. You're just... what are you to them, anyway? Eye candy? Some kind of plaything they take along on long trips?"

The last statement got a reaction. It was like a blink... Tandem's expression changed from coldly malicious to outright murderous... and then back again.

"I strike a nerve?" Ethan continued. "That's it isn't it? You know what I've heard?"

Ethan was only marginally aware that he was digging his own grave with his tongue. Tandem looked dangerous, but there was no one thing about her that could back up the implicit threat of her appearance... the way that there was nothing overtly dangerous about a snake until it showed its fangs. She was tall, but looked thin and weak despite the way she carried herself. And she had no weapon. She could surprise him with some kind of martial arts... but that surprise would be returned in kind.

Meanwhile, Shaw had moved into position and, after a quick glance to make sure Ethan was in place, reached for the gun hanging from Gilliam's belt.

Ethan kept talking.

"...I've heard stories about women that-"

"HEY!" Gilliam spun and knocked Shaw's reaching hand away... then followed with a foot sweep that knocked the captain off her feet.

Without looking back, Ethan took Gilliam's shout as a signal and lunged at Tandem. The woman slid to one side and jabbed at his throat, not with a fist, but with rigid, outstretched fingers that would have neatly crushed his windpipe if he hadn't been expecting it. But he had. Instead of blocking the strike, Ethan repeated her own dodge, jerking to one side and bringing the heel of his hand in an upward arc toward the bottom of her helmet. He'd worn those kinds of suits before, and he knew that a strong enough upward blow would snap the seals and leave the wearer vulnerable to the atmosphere.

It WOULD have been perfect, but Tandem was too quick. She skipped backward at the last instant, and Ethan's fist went past her face instead. Tandem grabbed his arm with one hand and drove her other fist into his side repeatedly, pulling him into the blows that sent bolts of pain radiating through into his torso.

"GAH-"

Then she twisted the arm around his back and spun him around-

-where he saw Gilliam holding captain Shaw in a nearly identical pose, only he had his gun pointed to her head.

"Bad move, lads," he said. "You both fail. She went for my gun... can you believe that, Stryger?"

"Kill her," Richards added, almost gleefully. "We don't need her, kill her right here. Shoot her, Gilliam!"

"Decisions of who is no longer needed are not yours to make, Richards," Stryger... calm almost to the point of boredom. "Do remember that. Tandem, bring him here."

Tandem moved closer, bringing Ethan with her. Ethan and Shaw were now face to face.

"I am disappointed, captain," said Stryger. "But not surprised. I am never surprised... partially due to the fact that I had these helmets retro-fitted with rear-facing cameras."

Stryger tapped his own helmet. It would have been a perfect time for another of his predatory smiles, but he didn't oblige. That somehow made things even worse.

"So am I shooting somebody or not?" Gilliam asked.

"The captain merely needs a reminder that actions... particularly unsuccessful ones... have consequences. In this case, her attempt just cost her friend his air filter."

"No!" Shaw cried.

"Tandem."

Tandem grabbed the filter covering Ethan's nose and mouth and pulled it away. She tossed it to Stryger.

Ethan held his breath.

"No! Give it back!" Shaw cried. She tried to move, but Gilliam held her motionless.

"Now why would we go and do somethin' like that?" he teased. "The lesson isn't even over... hell, we haven't got to the good part yet. You know... the part where your boyfriend chokes on his own lungs?"

Ethan was holding his breath, but he knew that was only buying him minutes. He also knew that this wasn't a joke or a game, Stryger's people had already killed one man just to prove a point.

"How long do you suppose he can hold his breath?" said Stryger. He stood next to Shaw and twirled the air filter on one gloved finger. "Of course... the longer he waits, the worse it will be when he finally does give in. The first breath will make him cough uncontrollably. Very soon thereafter... by about the third or fourth breath... the coughing will turn bloody. He'll gasp... or try to... as his lungs fill with fluid and he either drowns or bleeds to death. By then, he'll be begging Gilliam to put him out of his misery... or he would be, if he were able to talk."

"Give him the air filter!"

"So how do you feel now, Captain Shaw? Still feeling rebellious? Bold? Or perhaps now you're starting to feel a tiny bit enlightened."

"STOP IT, okay!" Shaw screamed. "It's enough! Let him breathe!"

"He can breathe any time he wishes," said Stryger, smiling.

"The filter! PLEASE!"

"No." Stryger shook his head. "The lesson isn't over."

"Not so smart now, are you?" Richards chimed in. He was hovering in the background, not getting too close but clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"Okay, I'll do what you want! Whatever you want! I swear!"

"Do you now?" Stryger gave her a look of consideration. "I wonder if I can trust that... considering it was offered under duress."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

"I want you to learn, Captain Shaw. I don't want you to make a promise you have no intention of keeping... I want you LEARN what happens when you toy with me. Are you learning?"

"YES! OH God, ETHAN!"

"Is he turning blue?" said Gilliam. "How many more seconds you got left in you, eh?"

Ethan tried to look defiant, but panic had crept into his eyes as he looked wildly from Shaw to Stryger and back again. He tried to pull away from Tandem, but her grip was absolute. Not even the strength of desperation would be enough to break free. Finally, he gave Shaw a long, apologetic stare and closed his eyes, not wanting to give his captors the pleasure of seeing anything more.

"I think he's gonna breathe," said Gilliam. "I think he's gonna do it on purpose just ta get it over with!"

"Hmmm, possibly," said Stryger. "That would be disappointing."

"NO, Ethan! DON'T! I'll do what they want! Just TELL ME!" Shaw pleaded with Stryger. "STOP this and TELL me what you want!"

"Something that can't be conveyed with empty words, Captain." Stryger looked at her... looked into her eyes. "But do I see the faint glimmer of enlightenment?"

"...you're crazy..." Shaw wept as she realized the truth of her words. "You're all... crazy..."

"And therefore not to be crossed, Captain Shaw. Not again. Tandem."

Tandem released Ethan and Stryger tossed the air filter to him. He caught it and immediately clapped it to his face, breathing deep as he sank to his knees in the dust.

"Easy with that," said Gilliam. "Filter's aren't 100 percent... don't get too happy with the deep breaths."

"Let her go," order Stryger.

Gilliam released Shaw She was at Ethan's side in an instant.

"I'm sorry, Ethan. I'm so sorry..."

Ethan wanted to say something in return, but he was too busy breathing. He felt Tandem's thin fingers clamp onto his arm once more, but this time she was "helping" him to his feet by nearly ripping his arm out of its socket.

"AHH-" he gasped. "Okay, I'm up!"

"Now, shall we continue?" said Stryger.

"Okay," said Shaw. "Okay, no more problems... just don't hurt us."

"Shaw-" Ethan began. The captain shook her head, looked away, and started walking.

They resumed the same formation, only now Richards kept looking back at the prisoners... at Shaw, particularly. Ethan he didn't care about one way or the other, but his dislike of Shaw as all too obvious. She had made him look bad on the ship, and he was determined to cause her as much pain as possible as a result. And he wanted her to know that.

Meanwhile, Stryger referred constantly to his wrist computer for guidance. Every once in a while he would point out a slightly different direction, but there was never anything visible except the mountains and the dust in the air. Everything further away than a half mile was lost in the red haze.

They walked for a little over an hour before any sign of their destination became visible.

It began as a large shape in the dust ahead of them. It was close, and because it was obscured by dust and not by distance, the shape became much clearer with every step they took. After another minute of walking, Ethan could recognize a building" and then several buildings. He could tell nothing of their arrangement, construction, or purpose, but in another few minutes"

"Some kind of facility,” he said to captain Shaw. There were three buildings, two large and one small. The larger structures were arranged in an L shape, with the smaller one in front of them.

"That’s not a building,” Shaw pointed to the smaller structure. "That’s a SHIP!”

Ethan had to squint to see it, but the captain was right. The smaller shape was indeed a vessel" a cargo ship, smaller and older, but much more rugged than the Hancock.

"He’s got a ship!”

"And a place to park it,” Ethan added. "What is all this?”

"History,” Stryger called from the front of the line. "That part of it that the corporations and their lackeys would have us forget.”

"Great,” said Ethan. "Now he’s got riddles.”

"Oh no, no.” Stryger turned to face them while Gilliam and Richards kept walking. "There are no riddles here. The fact that you take it as such means that the corporation has succeeded. You have no idea where we are right now, do you Mr. Forge?”

"4358."

""Planet 4358 indeed. That's what they call it now... that's what it became after the war. Eighty years ago, this planet was Rizon 3. Third of six 'planes of geological interest' discovered by the Rizon-Barr expedition decades before.”

"Never heard of it,” said captain Shaw.

"It was one of only four known sources of hydrillium ore" used to harden the hulls of ships.”

"Armor,” said Ethan. "For military class vessels.”

"Among other uses. This planet was the only source not under the direct control of TriLinear TransCorp Holdings. The mines on Mars and Hekron-8 were more than sufficient to meet their needs, especially since only military ships were allowed to have impact and focused energy resistant hulls. Military and corporate, of course. Private vessels made due with layers of lead and aluminum" inferior by design, and utterly useless in combat. When the war started, the Resistance set up mining facilities here to supply their ships with fuel and armor. It was the secret to their early success" to the very start of the revolution. When men saw that free ships could face a military destroyer on equal terms" and defeat it" minds and hearts were swayed by the thousands.

"Yeah, but they lost, remember?”

"Due in large part to TriLinear’s discovery of this facility. In the beginning, the Rizon’s upper-atmospheric storm was a perfect cloak; No long-range scan could detect anything on the surface. The corporate strategists had no idea where our ships were obtaining their armor. Then they suspected, but could do nothing" we already controlled this sector, and no vessel could get anywhere near it without being reduced to shrapnel. But then the corporation" as corporations always do" resorted to trickery, bribery, and murder. Unable to launch a military strike, they deployed saboteurs. Rizon’s atmosphere was no more breathable then than it is now. The mines and support facilities were protected by magnetic domes that scrubbed the dust from the air. What do you suppose happened, Mr. Forge, to the four hundred thirty seven workers at this facility when the filtration units were disabled, and the magnetic fields were shut off?”

"People die,” Ethan replied. "People die horribly. All the time. Especially when they’re stupid enough to start a shooting war against the corporation. You'll get no sympathy here. And don't think I didn't catch your little slip of the tongue; I know what you are now. You're one of THEM! One of those People's Liberation terrorists out there poisoning food supplies and crashing ships into occupied stations in the name of politics... in the name of a war that you LOST sixty years ago!"

"If by 'politics' you mean 'freedom,' and by 'terrorist' you mean 'soldier unfettered by the rules set by the enemy,' then I am exactly that. And more. I and my brothers are the unshackled fist of the billions that the corporations have enslaved. I am the monster that has risen from the blood and corpses they left behind them in their search for eternal profit. I am their nightmare, Mr. Forge. And we are here to do the work of nightmares."

"Speeches," Ethan spat. "Does that kind of talk actually work? What about you, Richards... is that the line he fed YOU before you signed up?"

"Why are you entertaining these people, Stryger?" Richards sneered.

"Because I want them to understand what they have become a part of."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we're not a part of ANYTHING! We're hostages!"

"And you would be corpses if you did not still have a purpose to serve. Come."

Stryger started walking again. Gilliam had reached the facility and was standing at the end of a metal walkway leading to a massive metal door. He looked around as if he was expecting something.

"So why ARE we here?" said Shaw.

"To make history," Stryger replied, as if three words explained everything. But then he added: "The kind of history that TriLinear can't erase, as they did their actions here."

"IF any of that actually happened," Forge said. Stryger and Shaw both ignored him.

"You kidnap us," Shaw continued. "Hijack my ship, force us to crash on this planet... for what? Just so we can get to some mine that's been abandoned for sixty years?"

"Crashing was not part of the plan," said Stryger. "I was mislead concerning the capabilities of both your ship and of my pilot."

"I could have LANDED-"

"YOU will remain silent now!" Stryger snapped... the first spark of true anger that he had displayed so far. "Hostage though she may be, Captain Shaw has proven herself more capable than you. One of you is now unnecessary... I have yet to decide which."

"As if I'd fly for you!"

"You already have, captain. And you are incorrect on one other point as well."

"That is?"

"I never said this facility was abandoned. Gilliam?"

They'd reached the edge of the walkway, where Gilliam was still waiting... but not for them.

"We may have a problem," Gilliam told them as they passed. He kept pace with Stryger, but his eyes were everywhere. Ethan glanced behind him and saw Tandem watching the surroundings with the same suspicion.

Something was wrong.

"We should have been challenged by now," Gilliam continued. "Six figures... four in body armor... march out of the dust and walk right up to the main entrance? No, that's not right."

"It is suspicious," Stryger replied.

"Suspicious, hell. No way we get this close without either a challenge or a warning shot. Our people are better than that. I get the feeling the captain may have been right after all. This place is deserted."

"Nonsense," said Stryger. He brought the party to a halt in front of the main doors. He activated the access panel beside it and looked at the display. "Once again, Gilliam, you are overly dramatic. Something is wrong, but the emergency seal on this door has been activated. THAT can only be done from the inside."

"So your people saw us crash and locked themselves in," said Shaw. "Some army you got there."

"Maybe we got unexpected company," Gilliam suggested. "COMPANY company. TriLinear may have found us. We could standing in the middle of a trap."

"Suits me just fine," said Ethan. "There's nothing I'd like to see more than the four of you shot for treason."

"Treason," Stryger chuckled. "Against a corporation. There was a time when the very idea was patently absurd. I'm overriding the door."

Stryger typed a code into the panel's touch screen. The doors hummed loudly, fell silent, then the entire walkway vibrated as the doors slid open.

Both Gilliam and Stryger had their weapons drawn as the large, industrial airlock came into view. Gilliam stepped forward and scanned the interior. Walls... floor... ceiling.

"Clear."

They entered. Stryger activated the airlock. The outer doors rumbled shut and, after an unexpectedly weak hiss of air, the inner doors opened. The corridor beyond was dreary and hard. The walls and floor were bare metal. Wires and pipes crisscrossed the ceiling in an iron web, from which dim lights cast cones of illumination at mostly regular intervals. Some of the lights were out, creating zones of total blackness that looked like holes. Or graves.

"Nice," said Ethan.

"Hmmph," Richards began working the fasteners on his helmet. "Can't wait to get out of this-"

"Not. Yet." Stryger's words stopped his fingers in mid-air. Stryger was once again tapping the screen of his wrist computer.

"Always check air quality before yanking yer head out of your bucket," said Gilliam.

"Especially when a facility full of workers has gone silent, with doors sealed from the inside," Stryger added.

"Poison?" Richards said, worried.

"It's how it was done before," Stryger replied. "And how I would do it again. History does have a way of repeating itself."

"But that would mean-"

"Air is breathable, but..."

"But?"

"We need to get to the control room. Suits and filters remain on until we do."

"What's the problem?" Richards asked as they started down the hall.

"The problem is that we are not in the control room where we can make a proper assessment. You remedy that by WALKING, Mr. Richards!" Angry again, Stryger moved with long, determined strides. The short-legged Gilliam had trouble keeping up with him without running.

"They're worried," Ethan said. He was smiling, but captain Shaw was not.

"Don't try anything," she said.

"Whatever's happening, there's gotta be an opportunity in it."

"I said don't!" Shaw hissed. "These people are insane!"

"Not as insane as you might think," said Ethan. "They act like they're willing to do anything at any cost, but it's just an act. That's the reputation these terrorists have... that's what makes people afraid of them-"

"What makes me afraid of them is that they almost killed you right in front of me! Now stop talking!"

"I never thought I'd see the day when Captain Shaw said she was afraid of something."

"Yeah, well you don't know me as well as you thought. They could have killed you, Ethan. They were GOING to kill you."

"But they didn't. And I don't think they would have."

"That's not what it looked like to me. They need us for something, Shaw. I don't know what, yet, but they wouldn't have brought extra air filters... they wouldn't have gone through all that trouble to keep us in line if they didn't need us for some purpose. I don't know what that purpose is, but I'm pretty sure we DON'T want to be a part of it-"

"Three filters, Ethan."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"There were THREE filters in that box. One for me, one for you, and one for Bernie. Only Bernie didn't really need his when we landed, did he? They shot him to make ME land the ship. So don't go drawing conclusions about how necessary we are."

"So they only need you," said Ethan. "They need an extra pilot, so they need you. That's still something we can use."

"That makes it worse, Ethan. Not better... worse."

 

[To Be Continued]