Pit-Stop

The crew of the Chancer V refuel on an abandoned colony en route to a fateful battle at Fell Justice.
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The Chancer V touched down on a landing platform nestled in the side of an abandoned skyscraper. The building’s rusted skeleton loomed over the cramped deck. Gaps in the corroded superstructure offered glimpse of a city ravaged by war and this planet’s unpredictable climate. Covenant plasma bombardments had raised planetary sea levels, conjuring up an ocean that consumed a once-thriving settlements. Only the highest buildings and a few derelict warship hulks remained, their damp interiors infested with all manner of scavengers—animal and sapiens alike.
As always, Zoey was the first one down the ramp. She bounded past the bemused dockmaster, a wiry man padded by protective clothing. The young spacer rushed to the edge of the deck, looking out in awe over the watery ruins as a salty wind slapped her cheeks.
“Careful, kid,” the dockmaster called over the sound of crashing waves. The deck was low enough that salt-white spray from the ocean splashed over the platform with each burst of the tide. “If you fall in I won’t be the one to fish you out.”
“Don’t worry, Zoey’s more coordinated than she looks. I’d get her some gymnastics training if we didn’t move around so much—though that would be about as easy as putting a cat in a bath.” Gavin Dunn strode down the ramp. He thrust one hand into his coat while the other held his cap back against the wind. He squinted against the salty breeze but gave the dockmaster a wide grin. “Good to see you again, Mtipe. Been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Not too long, not too long.” Mtipe returned the smile and shook Gavin’s hand. “Time passes a man by out here on the frontier. I’m glad you’re doing well.”
Gavin looked around the secluded platform. A few salvage buoys idled in their stalls while deckhands loaded bins of scrap metal into larger containers. The wind swept through the abandoned settlement while the waves beat endlessly against the sunken city below. “I can’t complain. I hear you’ve made a tidy profit off this mess.”
“It keeps my girls fed. The UNSC hasn’t muscled in since the war ended so my scavs have free run of the place. There’s a Kig-Yar outfit running operations somewhere out here, but we steer clear of each other. Sometimes they’ve even dropped in to help with the big hauls. Business opportunities do wonder for galactic peace.”
Mtipe sized up the Chancer. He made a show of wrinkling his nose, though his eyes shone with good humor. “And you’re still ringing a living out of this scrap pile. Picked up some new crew since the last time we spoke.
Zoey paced along the platform’s edge. The abandoned city stretched off into the distance. A few Covenant warships, their cracked hulls covered in lichen and barnacles, lay dormant amidst the ruins. The battle that destroyed this colony’s prospects was long since over. The ocean’s rise had brought a deep peace to this barren world. The waves beat on, indifferent to the churn of distant politics.
A stocky figure in battered armor descended the ramp. Mtipe looked the newcomer up with interest. The armored man cradled a shotgun. A ragged poncho draped over the armor concealed a frame loaded with ammunition pouches and bandoliers. A machete’s hilt protruded over his shoulder.
“And this must be the mercenary I’ve heard so much about. No wonder you’ve racked up such a reputation, Gavin. You have a commando squatting in your cargo bay! Tell me, is he really—?”
“Sorry, Mtipe, but we’re short on time,” Gavin said quickly. He patted the Chancer V’s rusty hull. The ship, like the city around them, seemed like a derelict raft forgotten by time. “She needs a refuel, as quick as you can. Nothing fancy, just enough to get us to Fell Justice. I can’t pay you today, but if you open up an account in my name I’ll be sure to pay it off.”
Mtipe clapped Gavin on the shoulder. His weather-beaten face split in a wide grin. “Just this once, you dock for free. I owe you for that shipment you ran back when we were just setting up down here. We wouldn’t have lasted a week without your help.”
Gavin offered the customary half-hearted protestations before Mtipe’s generosity won the day. The captain slipped away from the Chancer as the deck crew got to work and joined the armoed figure on an observation deck overlooking the platform and the sunken city. Zoey started over as well but a slight gesture from Gavin sent her back to admiring the watery ruins on her own.
Simon-G294’s dented visor stared out at the abandoned city. Gavin joined the young renegade at the railing. “Mtipe’s got a good crew,” the captain said. “We’ll be back in Slipspace in under six hours.”
“They can work slow if they want to,” Simon replied. “I don’t mind sticking around here.”
Gavin made a face. He thrust his hands into his coat pockets and leaned against the deck railing. “If Ryder’s intel is solid, those Covie ships will hit Fell Justice in less than a month. The local spacer gangs will need time to put a defense fleet together.”
“So we’re just Ryder’s couriers.”
“When it’s for a good cause, yes. Let Ryder have his little win. Who cares? We’re helping to save the planet.”
Simon let out a mirthless chuckle. “Fell Justice is a good cause now.”
“Spit on that planet and the saliva’s corrupt before it hits the ground. I know the score. But there’s still good people down there. They need every gun they can get. Give yourself some credit, you’re a better fighter than most of the lowlifes they’ll dredge up.” Gavin flashed a tentative smile. He was treading on thin ice with Simon. He’d been treading it for months. “It’ll be a real feather in your cap, you know. You’ll be a hero. That should be enough to make Cassandra think twice about, well, you know…”
Too late he realized his mistake. Simon’s helmet turned away, back to the waves beating against derelict hulls. “Yeah, sure. That’s all this is really about for me.” The waves crashed against the warped concrete below.
Gavin fell silent for several moments. “You can take your helmet off, you know,” he said finally. “It’s easier to talk face to face.”
“Easier for you, maybe.” Simon stared out at the skeletal buildings and ruined warships. The ocean lapped hungrily against the base of the tower. Before long this entire city would be consumed by the relentless deep.
“They left this place to rot,” Simon said in a strangely pensive tone. “They didn’t have a use for it anymore so they took all that time and money and just dumped it in the ocean. Just another dead planet.”
Gavin raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t look that dead to me. Look at Mtipe and his family. Something good grew out of the rubble. Life finds a way. The UNSC can’t control that, no matter what Ryder thinks. Neither can the Covenant.”
“Control,” Simon muttered. “It’s always about control.”
Gavin nearly told Simon everything right there on the observation deck—about Winter and the Assembly, the grand plan and the role the Chancer V played in it all. The words died as the salty wind slapped his cheeks and the waves crashed below. In his battered SPI armor Simon looked like part of the ruins around them—not human at all but a corroded structure given over to the ravages of time. Too late, Gavin saw the distance between them, a distance he’d helped create. Simon’s thoughts were far from him and Zoey and the Chancer V. They were elsewhere, plunging beneath the roaring waves and sinking into the inky deep below.
Category:The Weekly