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“Ah, welcome one and all!” Stacia greets at the door. “I hope your holidays have been well thus far. As we count down the final minutes of the current year, we shall gather for an excursion for the final part of our Hawkwind and Starbrook saga.”

“Snacks and non-alcoholic drinks are available before the trip, so get your fill,” the assistant says, carrying around and offering a large dish with a variety of finger foods.

“In case anyone needs some catching up: in our last excursion, Stacia and Chris returned to Earth from their holiday and prepped for the upcoming family vacation. Stacia was introduced as ‘Stacey’ to Chris’ parents as the new kid in town looking for a pet-setting gig.

“However, on the morning of the intended vacation, the two friends wake to find Chris’ parents murdered, with a familiar face from Stacia’s past standing with blood on his hands in the middle of the kitchen…”

***

Chris sits up, switching his attention to his dad. He crawls over and tries tapping him on the arm to rouse him. “Dad?” Chris whispers. “Dad, are you okay?” He shifts around to get a better look at his face. His dad’s eyes are open, staring into nothing. It is in this moment Chris realizes his back isn’t moving the way it would be for a living person.

He’s dead…Oh god…Mom!

The shock isn’t settling in yet. Chris gets up on rickety legs. She’s definitely in the kitchen. All that blood…nowhere else she could be. He has to get in there.

But the fight in the kitchen is ongoing. At the moment, Stacia is on the defense, Blocking the flurry of blows coming down on her. Her hair is a mess and a trickle of blood is running down her hairline and lips. Bruises are already forming on the side of her face and arms and legs. The man is getting winded now—more and more time is growing between shots at Stacia. She takes an opening and hurls a fist at his face. It lands askew from her intended target (presumably) and catches the man square in the throat. He staggers backward, coughing and gagging, and claws at his neck. He falls back against the counter and Stacia moves in for the kill.

She doesn’t get the chance. The man lunges forward with his shoulder and bowls over Stacia. He staggers right past her and makes his exit through the back door, disappearing into the morning.

“Stacia…,” Chris starts, but is immediately drawn to the body of his mother, lying prone on the floor in a puddle of blood. Her eyes, too, are open, gazing into the same nothingness as his dad. Rivulets of blood are still dribbling from her mouth and nostrils.

Wide-eyed, he looks back at Stacia, tears and snot starting to leak down his own face. His body won’t obey him; he can’t move. He starts to tremble all over.

Adrenaline fading, Stacia also begins to cry and surveys the destruction around her. She moves into Chris and engulfs the teen in her arms and rests the side of her face on top of his head. His body wracks with sobs and he wails into her chest. He’s only vaguely aware of her words. All he can hear is, “I’m sorry, Chris. I’m sorry.”

Time passes. Chris doesn’t know how long. Eventually he says in a hoarse voice, “You knew him.” He sniffles. “You knew his name. Why was he here?” He removes himself from her embrace and stares coldly at her.

Stacia looks back at Chris, her face damp and speckled red. Even in her new form, she suddenly appears much older to him. Her mouth is agape as she tries to find the words. “I—I…yes, I knew him. He’s a pirate. Part of the same crew as me. He was dead.”

“Everything. Tell me everything,” Chris says flatly.

“I will. All the details. But we’ve got to get out of here and get to the ship. He’s got to have his own and we have to find him.”

Chris shoots her an unbelieving glare.

Stacia winces. “I’ll tell you on the drive.

And she does.

When they pull out of the driveway in his mom’s car, Stacia starts with the night they got the damned artifact and goes all the way up to starting a new life on Columbia Hills (Chris says that was strange, it sounded like such an Earthling name).

2.

“But it didn’t last. Astor wasn’t even down in the mines for a month before his ass was breaking into my house in the middle of the night and brought the full brunt of the law in with him. I don’t know how he got caught—didn’t have time to ask. I’m half-asleep, woken up by him tearing apart my closet looking for the artifact. The second I’m on my feet, he finds it and the cops are busting down my door. They come closing in and he’s firing shots left and right. Of course they return the favor.

“Next thing I knew, he’s taken me by the hand and busts through the window. We hit the ground hard with all the glass and he yanks my arm so hard I think he’d dislocate it. He drags me out to his old busted-ass truck—stolen from the mining company no doubt—and the cops start firing on us again. Never mind the hostage, I guess.

“They miss him and hit me good. One in the shoulder, the other to my leg. Astor fires back, clips one of the cops. That freed up time for us to get in the truck.

“After that, it’s all hazy. I blacked out somewhere down the road and didn’t come to ‘til he’s loading me onto the ship—my ship. He throws me inside and I’m out again. I don’t know for how long, but we weren’t on the planet anymore. I tried getting up—slow going—and I’m still bleeding. Bastard didn’t even patch me up. Then I see it: the artifact. Just sitting there right next to me. He probably didn’t have time to think about it; what he needed to do at the time was put space between us and the cops. By the way he was piloting, I assumed we were still being chased.”

Stacia pulls Barbara’s car off the side of the road, toward the old mine. She imagines it’s parked far enough from the street not to arouse suspicion and close enough that they can get to the ship easily. For a second, she contemplates getting in touch with Jules, but in the grand scheme of things, won’t save them much time. She continues on with the story as they hike up to the entrance and through the caves.

“So I grabbed on to the artifact. It’s thick and has some weight to it; for lack of a better weapon, it’d do nicely to crack Astor’s skull. I didn’t give a shit about its value, I truly wanted the situation to be over and done with. I took the thing from its case and psyched myself up to get into the cockpit.

“And then it started glowing on me. I felt a tingle all over my body. The pain from the gunshots exploded and suddenly was gone. I reached around to look for the wounds—there were none that I could find. My pajamas were still torn and bloodied where the bullets hit; the skin underneath had no breaks. No more fresh blood either.

“I felt better than I had in a long time. And then I noticed I was glowing along with the artifact—that weird green color. And then it faded away.

“I crept up to the cockpit door and open it without a sound. Astor’s completely engrossed in getting the hell out of…wherever we were. He didn’t notice me until I hit him dead-on with the artifact. His skull split open and he slumped out of his seat. Blood poured everywhere. I dragged him out and closed the door behind me and locked it.

“The computer started yammering away and asked questions like ‘what happened to the captain?’. Blah, blah, blah. I told Jules that he was indisposed and asked what course had been set. The ship was zeroing in on a wormhole to get him well out of the cops’ jurisdiction. I asked Jules if it was possible to close the rift behind us as soon as we passed through. He said it was, but you know how well that panned out. Police cruiser makes it in and I bail early.

“But I didn’t pop out right at Earth. After we made our exit, we were scrambling to figure out where we ended up. At some point I had to go into the back to use the toilet. And I was ambushed.

“That was when I realized I didn’t hit Astor hard enough to kill him or at least put him in a coma. He must’ve been planted next to the door, ‘cuz he hit me from the side. I struggled with him and we traded punches and knee jabs. We wrestled over to the airlock. I managed to shove him into it and eject his ass right then and there.

“I didn’t leave it there, either. After thinking about it, I wondered if assimilating with the artifact preserved his life. No way was I taking another chance. His body was frozen in space and fully intact. So I turned the ship around and lined that son of a bitch up with the thrusters and burned his ass to a crisp.

“He. Was. Dead.”

Chris lets that register for a second. “And then you came to Earth?”

“Not right away. After I killed the thrusters I checked myself over to make a hundred percent sure I was healed. I passed out for an hour when I finished the check.”

3.

“Jules, talk to me,” Stacia calls out. Normally, that damn computer starts talking a mile a minute the second he gets a read on them coming into the—for lack of a better word—hangar. She stops cold in her tracks and holds her arm out for Chris; his chest bumps into her palm.

“What is it?” he whispers.

“Jules. He’s not answering. Hang back. I wanna double-check it’s still safe.”

Chris does as he’s told and crouches in the shadows against a nearby wall while Stacia takes off her shoes and lets her eyes revert to Luna’s. Not so much as a pebble crunches or skitters across the ground while she slips around the cave. Her arm occasionally darts out to touch something that isn’t there.

“Shit!” No, no, no, no, no! Stacia yanks the radio from the waistband of her jeans.

Chris stands up and approaches her. “The ship isn’t here?”

Stacia shakes her head. “Hijacked right from under us.”

Her hand squeezes tight around the radio. She powers on the device and cycles across all the channels until she catches a snippet of Jules’ voice: “—hear my voice, please respond. Over.”

The scrambled line! When the static hiss comes, Stacia answers immediately, “We’re here! What’s going on, Jules? Over.”

“Captain! I regret to inform you: the ship has been stolen. Over.”

Stacia lets out a heavy sigh before pressing the button again. “Yeah, we’ve noticed that. Where are you? Over.”

“Currently, we are still within Earth’s atmosphere. An unknown person managed to sneak aboard. I’ve no idea how. The ship is in manual control and I am locked out. There’s nothing I can do to shut the systems down. Over.”

“And Astor can’t hear us talking? Over.”

“Not at all. He has not bothered with comms at all except to scan for police frequencies. Over.”

“Tell you what, hail the Lacertylia. Direct them to this frequency and give them our coordinates. We need a ride. Over.”

“Consider it done, Captain. Over and out.”

4.

In silence, Chris and Stacia backtrack to the main entrance of the mines. They step out into the sunlight on what normally would be a perfect day. Jules pops back on the radio to confirm the Lacertylia are on the way.

The reality of the situation that began burrowing itself into Chris’ gut an hour ago starts to settle in and overwhelm the teen. His legs wobble and give out. He collapses to his knees, managing to keep himself upright. The sight of his parents sprawled lifeless on the floor refuses to leave him. His stomach churns. Chris leans forward and vomits bile onto the dirt. He picks up on Stacia rushing to his side and feels a reassuring hand on his shoulder and the heat of her body as she crouches down at his back.

“They won’t be long,” Stacia tells him quietly, “and when we board the Lacertylia’s ship, Jules will send us live tracking. We’ll have Astor soon. You don’t have to come along, okay?” I don’t—”

Chris snaps his head to face her, eyes red and wide with fury. “No,” he states bluntly, keeping his eyes locked with hers “I’m going to be there when we catch him.” He says no more.

Stacia bites her tongue a moment longer and ultimately relents.

Behind them, the drone of a distant aircraft grows louder and louder. The wind from the vessel causes ripples in the grasses and the nearby tree branches to sway. Chris and Stacia shield their faces from the upheaval of dirt and dust. The hum of the engine dies and the world around them settles. The Lacertylian vessel materializes and the cargo bay door opens.

Juraik greets them with a single wave of the hand. All the joy in her face and mannerisms the last time they saw her is wiped clean from the slate. All they saw now was the focus of a predator hunting its quarry.

“Ahoy!” she calls out in her native tongue. “Heard you needed a lift. Climb aboard.”

Chris casts a glance to Stacia and she looks back, looking just as confused as he felt. They turn back to the pirate, staring blankly.

Juraik cocks her head and seemingly realizes her words mean nothing to the humans. She then waves them over. Stacia takes the cue and climbs to her feet, helping Chris up from his spot. The two jog up the cargo ramp and follow Juraik to the common room.

“Jules,” Stacia says into her radio, “I’m going to need you to listen through the ships’ connection and translate through this. Over.”

“Aye, Captain. Over.”

5.

Jules and Stacia do their thing and fill Juraik and the rest of the crew in on what’s happening. Chris, in the meantime, sits and stews on the events of the morning. Every passing second, the rage inside him builds. All he can do is picture the face of that bastard, Astor, and how he would beat it into a bloody pulp when they catch up. He imagines his hands around that scrawny chicken neck of his, watching everything above go from red to purple, eyes bulging, spittle flying from his mouth. He imagines Astor choking for breath and looking up at him in horror as the last embers of life snuff out. He doesn’t notice when Stacia takes a seat next to him. She sits back and stares ahead and waits.

An indeterminate time later, (what Chris presumes to be) the pilot comes over the PA and makes an announcement to the ship. Jules quickly translates: “We are approaching the targeted vessel. Telescope sighting has been made. In rough Earth units, we are two hundred and thirty-seven kilometers out. At our current speed, we will be in firing range within thirty seconds.”

Juraik approaches Stacia and asks (which Jules also translates), “So, what should we do? Are we gonna blast him to nothing?”

“Please don’t,” Jules adds.

Stacia chuckles and responds, “Don’t worry, Jules, we’re not gonna fry you but it might get bumpy. We’ll probably fire some warning shots or try to cut you off…something like that.”

Chris watches on without a word as Stacia wracks her brain, thumping the radio against her forehead. She suddenly stares ahead, mouth ajar. “Hey, Jules, can you ask them what kind of weapons they have on board?”

He does and comes back with an answer, “Cutting lasers—fore and aft, gatling cannons, harpoon and tow cables, sixteen missiles, and the usual guns and explosive charge allotment for each of the crew.”

“Cutting lasers would be too risky for us,” Stacia thinks aloud, “Astor could easily pull a kamikaze move if we get that close. Missiles may very well destroy the ship unless we’re very, very careful.” She pauses a beat and asks, “Jules, is there any way the lacertylians can get those tow cables electrified?”

He asks. “…Yes, they can.”

“Alright. Jules, is there a spot on the ship we can hit and fry the damn thing without compromising you or the bulk of the ship?”

“Affirmative.”

“Would you mind sending over the schematics?”

It takes all of five seconds. “Message sent.”

“Thank you, Jules,” Stacia clasps her hand over Chris’ shoulder. “It might hurt, but it won’t be anything we can’t fix.”

“I trust you, Captain.”

“Don’t worry about me, trust the gunner on this end.”

She’s met with an uneasy silence at that.

6.

One kilometer back from Astor, the lacertylians relax the thrusters and keep a steady distance from the target craft. The crew makes haste in readying the harpoons and ensuring each has a live wire attached to it.

Chris and Stacia stand in the cockpit behind the helmsman while they close in on Astor. Nothing at all to suggest he has any clue that he’s being tailed. Stacia asks Jules anyway.

“I can confirm you are perfectly cloaked to my system. Your old acquaintance has even left the controls and has entered the living quarters…and lounging on the sofa now. If there were ever the opportunity—”

“We’re here, Jules,” Stacia advises. “I’m sending you back the schematics on the DL—edits included. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the two indicated markers should be able to cripple movement and weapons without compromising the integrity of your systems.”

“Received…checking…confirmed. However, navigation and life-support systems will be critically damaged. Significant repairs will be required.”

“That’s fine. As long as you’re intact and the ship is salvageable. See you in a few.”

Stacia looks at Chris.

“Let’s do this,” he says numbly. “And don’t say it’s too dangerous. I know and I’m coming whether you want me to or not.”

The woman stares down at him; he doesn’t back down. “Fine. But you stay behind me when we go in.”

“Fine.”

“Jules, tell the lacertylians to close in and fire harpoons on my mark.”

The translation goes over the ship. They watch as the vessel draws nearer and nearer.

“Mark.”

Both harpoon gunners deploy the tethers with deadly precision and hit the targets down to the millimeter.

7.

THNK! THNK!

Astor jumps to his feet, suddenly wide awake from his impending nap. His balance is thrown by both the sound and jolt from the port side. Red light floods the whole of the interior and klaxons ring from the front. He staggers on shaky legs toward the cockpit, feeling a trickle of piss run down his inner thigh.

At the controls, he sees the swathe of dials and lights on the panels going apeshit. He can’t focus on one section and has no idea what’s going on or what many of the indicators mean.

“Computer, what’s going on?”

No answer.

“Are you there!?” His voice quavers. “Hello?” Astor’s body breaks out in goosebumps. The hair on his arms and legs stand on end. The constant alarms soon gives him a headache and he retreats to the living area, covering his ears to dampen the sound.

So preoccupied is he with the noise, Astor nearly misses the subtle knock of the lacertylian ship docking at port.

8.

Inside the pressurized tube, Stacia readies herself with a lacertylian pistol at the hatch of her ship. Chris stands close behind, restless and needing to get to the murderer only a few feet away. He plays his revenge over and over in his mind: sometimes it’s strangulation, others he uses one of the many lacertylian guns, and once he even uses the Swiss Army Knife he smuggled out of the odds-and-ends kitchen drawer. Chris digs into his pocket and palms it without Stacia noticing.

“Jules,” Stacia whispers, “what’s going on in there?”

“He’s waiting at the hatch.”

Stacia has a think on this and looks back at one of the lacertylians—specifically at the explosive attached to her belt. She smirks. “Jules—new plan. Get ready to translate.”

9.

Astor stands at the hatch, ear up to it, trying to sort out what’s going on. Debris? Entirely probable. The amount of junk in orbit around the Earth was astounding, who knows what else is floating out in the system. Of course now he can’t confirm those details with the radar out of commission.

A good few minutes pass without further incident and he has a serious thought to do a walk around the side to assess the damage as well as get away from from the damned ringing.

10.

The concussion from the explosive charge goes deep into Chris’ chest and staggers him. Stacia catches the teen by the arm and gives him a reassuring grin. She rights him and lets go and rushes into the docking tube under the cover of smoke, Chris at her flank.

Before the smoke can dissipate, the woman storms into her ship’s living quarters under total cover…
…and finds nothing.

As Stacia jumps into the cockpit to investigate, Chris readies his weapon and throws open the closet (empty) and the bathroom door (also empty). Baffled, Stacia stomps back into the living space. Her attention deviates to the object in her companion’s hand.

“Chris…what the hell are you doing with—”

There is commotion echoing down the metallic tube linked to the other craft: sounds of rifle fire and a cacophony of foreign voices yelling.

Stacia holds her questioning and waves for Chris to get behind her. She holds up her gun and proceeds carefully toward the lacertylian ship. When they make it through the haze, they are met with the damnedest of sights: a lacertylian pirate wrapped from his feet to his waist in a dark, thick muck—and at her back, a scrawny figure of a man protrudes from this gelatinous gunk, holding on for dear life, arms tight around her neck and head. A swarm of pirates are gathered around, some with weapons drawn and readied. The intertwined have been given a wide berth. Stacia pushes through the crowd. Astor’s back is to her.

She aims her pistol…and hesitates.

Chris’ knuckles are white holding on to the Swiss Army Knife in his own deathgrip. He knows Stacia wants to pull the trigger more than anything, but, like the lacertylians, she can’t risk hitting the pirate. The teenager seizes his opportunity and rushes the duo. Unable to react in time, Stacia watches in horror as the teen darts out to the brawl.

Plenty of times at Toys R US, Chris and a number of his coworkers had been accused of having ‘tunnel vision’—focusing on the task-at-hand rather than the whole of their responsibilities. He never noticed it at the time. But here, for the first time, he is acutely aware of it. Astor is in his sights as sharp as can be, everything else is well and truly out of focus. The sounds around him have muted. He thinks he hears Stacia yelling; in spite of this, he continues forward, totally off the murderer’s radar.

No, it can’t be this easy, he says to himself. Something’s gonna happen. It’ll go wrong. The knife will come close, the positioning will shift, and I’ll miss entirely.

Except he doesn’t.

The blade pierces Astor’s back, a hair-width from his spine. The side of his fist slaps against the man’s skin with a dull thud. Astor’s mouth opens wide in a scream, but no sound comes out.

11.

Astor’s releases the lacertylian and his hands frantically search for the source of pain. His scrawny chest parts from the muscular woman when he swivels around. In the briefest moment, Astor sees the young boy who’s been palling around with his former partner. In that moment of clarity, he is free from the anguish.

The boy.

New target acquired. Astor pulls up his left arm and swings with all his strength, letting the back of his hand connect with the kid’s ear. He sends him flying to the side and crumples to the floor.

Rage.

The pain is forgotten. All he can feel is hot liquid pouring down his back and legs. No matter, it’ll soon heal. The lower half of his oozing body peels off the lacertylian and he heaves himself to the prone Earthling.

And in a micro-second, the lights go out in his left eye. He staggers back with a migraine of such magnitude he forgets what he’s doing. A fresh wave of blood gushes down his front. Not thinking, he swipes at the fiery spot on his face with his bare forearm and brings it back with a red sleeve.

12.

Unable to fire first because of the lacertylian and now because Chris is dead-center of her aim, Stacia pulls up the barrel of her gun and watches stupidly as he stabs Astor, who, in turn, backhands the boy into next week. The second her former partner is away from both of them, she takes aim again.

Now!

Astor lunges at Chris. Stacia pulls the trigger.

BANG.

The left side of Astor’s face disappears in a red mist. Bone shatters and crumples under his skin. The pressure of impact pulverizes his eye. White and red goop dribbles to the floor like an upended Jell-O cup. He’s still alive. All he does is uselessly wipe his brow like he’s trying to rid himself of an irritating fly. And then he turns to face her. There isn’t an inch of his front half not covered in crimson. Astor takes a step forward.

BANG.

His right jugular splits open and blood erupts like water from a busted garden hose. He gurgles and sputters and keeps walking.

Cold sweat breaks out all over Stacia. Why won’t he go down?

She lowers her aim, firing twice more. Astor’s kneecaps implode. He drops down and finally screams in pain.

One more time. Stacia makes a minor adjustment and fires. A black dot appears on his forehead the same time his brain explodes from the back of his skull. Splintered fragments and gray-red mush litter the ground and Astor falls into his own viscera. The last of his neurons fire and the spasming motor functions ease slowly.

When it’s clear that Astor will not move again, Stacia runs over to Chris. He’s still on the ground, but he is moving.

“Chris! Chris, are you alright?”

He tries nodding his head and props himself up on his elbows. He blinks rapidly and finally answers, “Yeah. I think I am Gotta catch my breath.” Chris huffs a few times. “I heard shots…”

Stacia places her hand between his shoulder blades to help keep him balanced as he rises. She’s on the verge of tears. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Astor’s dead now.”

Chris’ face reddens and his brows furrow as he begins to sob. Stacia pulls him in for a hug. She holds him and he clings to her and cries into her shoulder.

At least, I hope he is.

***

“As with previous installments, this particular excursion is only a preview of the full trip,” Yuki says, emerging from the Void. “The complete story will be made available for purchase through various outlets. A kind of donation to help keep this laboratory up and running.”

Her assistant comes out and hops to the refrigerator in the back of the lab, retrieving some sealed bottles of Champagne. He sets them aside and fetches glass flutes from the kitchenette. “Getting close to celebration time.”

Yuki checks her watch. “Yes. Getting awfully close here. Why don’t we head upstairs and see how the festivities are going in other places of the world. The coverage should be most excellent this year.”

The assistant pops the cork on one of the bottles and expertly fills two Champagne flutes. He takes one and hands the other to Yuki. “To another year, gone in a flash, but not without some good trips.”

Yuki gingerly taps her glass to the assistant’s. “Another year of successful excursions and to many more in the future.”

Yuki turns to her audience. “Happy New Year!”

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