Or Die Alone

"I wouldn't dream of it, now let's get moving. Don't reveal yourself unless I call for help, ok?"

She nodded, and set off in another direction.

The Chainhand leaned over the rig's railing, looking out past the refinery into the blinding snow, the tinted visor of his snowsuit barely serving to lessen the perpetual glow. It was like staring at the damned sun, didn't matter how cold it was, the system's star beat down on the powder to create a glare that would quickly make you snow-blind without protective gear. Granted, it was a damn sight better than working the mines on Hades, but there was no bar and no women. What little free time they got between rotations was boring and pointless.

They had put him on sentry duty today, so rather than maintaining the pumps and machinery he had been tasked with keeping watch for approaching figures. Word had come in that a spook had tried to infiltrate the Syndicate and had been exposed, but he had tried to flee the planet and his spaceship had been brought down over the moon. He wasn't likely to survive, but if he did, the boss didn't want him slipping past them. This oxygen farm was the only way off-planet and if anyone was coming, they would be coming this way.

He wiped some of the flecks of snow from his visor, his furry collar blowing in the wind, and then froze. He could see something, a solitary figure walking towards the refinery through the snowdrifts, it couldn't be...

He fumbled with his helmet, struggling to activate the suit radio with his thick gloves, and the Derrickman's voice came through with a hiss of static.

"What is it? I'm fucking busy down here, one of the joints has sprung a leak and the Ginzels are giving me the runaround."

"Sorry Mister Cohen, it's Darrel, the Chainhand. I don't mean to disturb you but...I see something! There's a person out there, comin' our way!"

"What? There's no way, you wearing a tinted visor? If I come all the way up to the deck and find out you're hallucinating, I'm dropping you down the fucking moon pool."

"Nah Mister Cohen I swear! He's about two hundred meters out to the South!"

"Right, hang tight, I'm getting the rifle and bringing some of the boys up with me. They wanted him alive, but I ain't takin' any chances with a spook, if he makes one wrong move I'm painting the snow with his brains."

"I hear you Mister Cohen, you do what you need to do, Darrel out."

He rested his hands on the metal railing, the freezing steel cold enough to penetrate his gloves, and watched the man as he stumbled over the dunes and made his way closer. How the hell had this guy survived a crash from orbit, never mind the trek to the refinery? Spooks must be downright supermen, they had seen the fireworks show from all the way over here, it had looked like a shooting star and the vessel had hit the ground with all the grace of a falling brick. Yet here he was, making his way towards them.

He heard footsteps on the metal deck behind him and turned to see Mister Cohen and some of the Ginzels hurrying behind him, green as fuck miners who had been deployed to the rig and had to be taught the basics of running the equipment.

Cohen move up beside him and raised a hand to further shield his dark goggles, his rebreather exhaling clouds of mist. Darrel pointed towards the figure in the distance, dark against the snow.

"You see? I told you Mister Cohen, it's the spook!"

"Well I'll be fucked..." He hefted a long rifle with a wooden stock and turned to the increasingly nervous Ginzels. "Alright boys, this is your chance to prove to the Syndicate that you got what it takes, you show your loyalty today and I'll make damned sure that the bosses back on Hades hear about it. This is the big one, they contacted me personally about this UNN lapdog, and if he slips through our fingers it'll be all of our asses on the line. Capiche?"

There was some nervous and somewhat non-committal nodding, and then the group set off down to the lower deck to intercept the man, Darrel trailing behind after taking one last look at the advancing figure. It was almost supernatural, he didn't believe in ghosts but this whole situation was giving him the willies. It wasn't the first time he had wondered if serving his tax fraud sentence would have been easier than skipping bail and coming out here.

Boyd stumbled through the snow, trying to appear a lot weaker and worn down than he really was, if push came to shove the less they knew about his capabilities the better. He had noticed that he had a welcome party waiting to receive him, a group of half a dozen men standing on the deck of the refinery where it met the snow. One was armed, that wasn't a good sign. After a few minutes he got within shouting range, and he heard a voice echo over the wind.

"Stop! Who goes there?"

Boyd pulled his rebreather from his face to let it fall around his neck, raising his hands above his head to show that he was unarmed and shouting a reply back.

"Thank God! I thought I was going to die out there! My name is Henderson, I was part of an ExoCorp survey team searching for places to drop new refineries. I got separated from my team in a blizzard, please help me!"

He thought it sounded convincing enough, but the rig crew didn't seem to be buying it, the one with the rifle kept it aimed in his direction.

"Come closer!" The man shouted, gesturing with the barrel of his gun. It was old, not an XMR, some kind of conventional chemical projectile weapon. These guys were Syndicate, why else would they be so suspicious of him? Word must have gotten out that their ship had crashed here, and the bosses hadn't just assumed that he was dead as he had hoped. Damn it, of all the luck...

He decided to keep up his facade, and approached cautiously, keeping his hands raised in surrender.

"Please! Do you have food? I've been lost out here for days!" The leader of the men, the man with the gun, stepped forward to meet him as he arrived at the deck.

"Yeah yeah, cut the shit, spook. We know exactly who you are, you can drop the act."

Boyd's brow furrowed and he lowered his arms, the demeanor of a scared and lost civilian evaporating. The men surrounding him looked a lot less sure of themselves, they shifted their weight from foot to foot as if they were extremely uncomfortable with what was happening. New arrivals maybe? Perhaps he could use that to his advantage. The man waving the rifle around continued.

"Now here's what's gonna happen, you're gonna put your hands behind your back and let one of my guys tie you up, and then we're gonna take you to the shuttle and bring you back to Hades so the boss can pick up where he left off. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way, this is going to be a lot faster and a lot less painful for the both of us if you just do as I say without trying anything funny. Understand?"

Boyd slowly moved his hands behind his back and sank to his knees, the man gesturing for one of his goons to walk out into the snow and tie him with a chain that he was holding.

"Don't touch his suit," the man added, "and take the knife from his boot."

"Sounds like you're wise to all my tricks," Boyd said, his tone sarcastic.

"That's right spook, you may have gotten the better of those PDF jarheads, but nothing gets past me."

"So you have everything under control?"

"That's right, I do. Now are you gonna cooperate and keep your mouth shut, or am I going to have to knock you out with my rifle butt?"

Boyd turned his attention to the trembling man who was fumbling with the chain behind him, raising his voice loud enough to ensure that everyone could hear him.

"You know, I'm authorized to make binding deals with the UNN. You can still stop this, you can still walk away, we can even give you amnesty for any crimes committed on Earth in exchange for aid and information. You could go back home."

"Hey!" The man shouldered his rifle and pointed it at Boyd's head. "Shut the fuck up!"

"You can't think you'll get away with this," Boyd continued, "sooner or later the UNN is going to find out what you're doing here. They'll send a Jump Carrier full of Marines and no amount of stolen PDF weaponry is going to help you if that happens."

"I said shut the fuck up," the man blurted, taking a few steps towards him as the rest of the crew looked on with uncertainty.

"The Syndicate is banking on the UNN not responding, they don't think we care what happens on these outlying colonies. Well we do, ask yourselves, would I be here if the UNN didn't care about your welfare? Would they have sent me if they had no intention of defending Hades from enemies, alien and domestic?"

"One more word out of that mouth and I'm going to put a bullet through it," the ringleader hissed. "What's the holdup Bauer? Tie his fucking hands already!"

The man called Bauer was hesitating, was Boyd's ploy working? Bauer stepped out from behind him, wielding the chain as a weapon.

"He's right Cohen, we don't stand a chance against the UNN. I never wanted to get involved in this, I just came here looking for work, we're not criminals and we don't want to be!"

There were a few affirmations from some of the other workers who were standing behind Cohen, and he looked back at them nervously as he fingered the trigger on his rifle.

"You...you traitors! He's full of shit! The UNN never cared about Hades, nor did the corporate stooges! The Syndicate are the ones who sign your paychecks and protect the planet, not these jumped up fascists, they don't give a shit about us. We have weapons now, we shot down this spook's ship, and if they send a Carrier we'll shoot that down too!"

Cohen was losing the crowd, and he knew it, now unsure of where he should be pointing his gun.

"Last chance," Boyd said, "I promise amnesty for any crimes committed on Earth or Hades to anyone who helps me get off this moon. You can check my badge, I have the rank to enforce that promise."

"Tie him up Bauer!" Cohen screamed, becoming hysterical as he directed his weapon towards the disillusioned miner. "Tie him up or by God I'll kill you as well."

That seemed to push the rest of the crew over the edge, and a good number of them ran at Cohen from behind, tackling him to the ground as he screeched and tried to fire his weapon. One of the workers wrenched it from his hands and ejected the magazine, giving the mobster a good kick to the face for good measure as Bauer approached with the chains.

Before long a bloodied and furious Cohen was chained up and lying on the snow, ranting as his crew helped Boyd up onto the refinery.

"Darrel! Darrel you asshole, do something!"

The man he was referring to turned and shrugged his shoulders.

"I want to go home, man. Fuck this colony."

Cohen screamed impotently, flailing as some of the workers hoisted him up onto the deck.

"Where shall we take him," one of the men asked, "should we lock him in the storeroom maybe?"

"Moon pool," another replied, grinning. Cohen struggled as he was dragged below deck, shouting curses until he was out of earshot. The one called Darrel walked up to Boyd.

"What do you need? We have a shuttle on the rig, we have enough food to spare, I can get it all loaded up and ready to go in a half hour. It doesn't have a jump drive but it'll get you to the edge of the system where you can try to hail a freighter, someone will be able to get you to the next system over."

"It's Darrel, right?"

"Yeah, you'll take our names down, right? Make a record so they know we're pardoned when the carrier gets here?"

"I'll do that right now," Boyd said, typing on his oh-bis. "Get me a crew manifest for the oxygen farm and I'll include it in my report, I'm assuming everyone here will cooperate besides Cohen?"

"Yeah, yeah, none of us want to be here. Everyone will side with the UNN, and you won't have to worry about Cohen, he won't be around when your guys arrive. Lot of people here have scores to settle with him, he was a fuckin' slave driver."

"Don't worry, I'm a spy, not a peacekeeper. Rescuing a mobster from the people he wronged isn't in my job description. By the way, I have a friend coming along for the ride, she's an alien so don't be alarmed. She's quite tame."

Boyd called to Lorza, Darrel watching curiously, and after a moment she appeared in the distance from behind a snowdrift. It took a couple of minutes for her to draw close, Darrel becoming increasingly more alarmed as she kept growing bigger, until finally she came to a stop beside them. She ruffled Boyd's hair with her giant hand, Darrel looking about ready to bolt as he stared up at the eight foot Borealan.

"Thought you might be losing it there for a second, mudak. Nice work."

"I'll uh...get the...I'll load up the ship," Darrel stammered as he backed away and then vanished into the maze of pipes and machinery. Lorza laughed, resting a hand on Boyd's shoulder.

"Skittish, that one. We have a ship then?"

"Yeah, a shuttle. It's not jump-capable but we can coast out to the edge of the system and try to hail a passing ship, maybe a freighter on the way in or out of the system. They're gonna give us food and supplies enough to last us a while, so we shouldn't have any trouble waiting around."

"You're taking me on a honeymoon already, Boyd? How thoughtful of you."

"Best to avoid that kind of talk until we're in the shuttle," he replied, reddening and lowering his voice. "We don't know how these people will react if they find out that I..."

"That you ate me out?"

"Just keep it down," he muttered. He knew she was teasing him, but they didn't need any complications now that things were going so smoothly.

"Oh fine, I'll wait and have my fun with you later." She crossed her arms over her ample chest and leaned against a railing, the metal sagging a little as she put her weight on it, her tail swaying impatiently. They waited around for a while until Darrel returned, hurrying out of the forest of pipes, carrying a crumpled printout in his hand.

"Ok Sir, I got you the list of employee names, these guys are all good people. You'll make sure they don't forget about us, right? When the UNN arrives they'll know that we're down here and that we've been pardoned?"

"Don't worry about it," Boyd said as he took the list of names and began to enter them into his computer's memory. There were only a dozen, the refinery must have been grossly understaffed, no wonder Darrel had referred to Cohen as a 'slave driver'. The more qualified ExoCorp personnel had most likely jumped ship as soon as they could, and the Syndicate had been forced to use inexperienced miners as replacement workers. "I'll make sure someone comes to pick you up, I'm taking your only shuttle after all. You got it all loaded up?"

"Yes Sir, there's enough food in there to last you at least a week, I shouldn't think it would take more than a couple of days before a passing ship picks you up. The Syndicate have some freight pilots on their payroll but they don't have anything patrolling the system, they won't have a way to intercept you."

"I appreciate the help Darrel, we would have been stranded here if it wasn't for you and your men, and I'll make sure the brass knows it."

He gave a grinning Lorza another nervous glance, then thanked Boyd and gestured for them to follow him to the landing pad. They ducked through the pipes and industrial machinery, Lorza having trouble squeezing her bulk through passageways that were barely large enough for a human, until they finally made it to the other side of the rig where the shuttle was waiting for them. It was another older UNN model, a retired Marine dropship auctioned off to civilians after it had exceeded its operational lifespan. They were supposed to be recycled for parts, but it was a widely known secret that the 'scrap traders' instead refurbished them and sold them on to private buyers. They were usually safe, or at least spaceworthy, Boyd doubted they would have any problems with it.

"One of you two can fly this thing, right?" Darrel asked.

"Yeah I can handle it," Boyd replied as he mounted the landing ramp. The vessel was on the smaller side, but there was still enough room for half a dozen people, and Lorza wouldn't have to crouch too low to fit. The more recent models were tall enough to seat Borealan auxiliaries along with human troops, but she should be able to sit comfortably without hitting her head. He gestured for her to climb the ramp behind him and she ducked inside the shuttle, Boyd bidding farewell to Darrel as a few of the workers watched from an upper level, leaning over a guard rail to get a look at the alien as she disappeared into the troop bay.

"Keep your comms open, Darrel, when I raise the alarm they're going to send a task force within a couple of days. Expect help to arrive within a week."

He moved up through the shuttle and sat down in the cockpit, running a diagnostic on the fuel lines and engines, who knew how long this shuttle had been sitting out in the cold. Space was colder, but on the surface it would have been hammered by blizzards and ice storms. The diagnostic results came back clean, a blinking green light on the instrument panel flashing an all-clear, and so he opened the atmospheric jet intakes and prepped the thrusters. He leaned back in his seat to check on Lorza.

"You ok back there? Could get bumpy until we leave the atmosphere, you may want to hang on to something."

"Can't be any worse than the Zemchug," she laughed.

Boyd gunned the thrusters and the shuttle rose off the landing pad, its gear stowing in the belly of the vessel with a mechanical clunk that reverberated through the deck. It had been a while since he had flown one of these things, but he had been to flight school as part of his UNNI training and he could fly anything that could be crewed by one person.

He took it to a safe altitude and then activated the main engine, the G-forces pinning him to his seat as he angled the nose up towards space. Winds buffeted the craft as it climbed, storm clouds passing by the cockpit like billows of smoke, the vessel shaking violently and making disconcerting noises that sounded suspiciously like bolts rattling loose. Lorza was gripping the seats on either side of the troop bay, steadying herself as flames licked at the shuttle's nose, and just as he felt as if it was about to break apart under the stress they punched through into open space.

The ride smoothed out, the shuttle coasting as it broke orbit, accelerating away from the moon and out towards the edge of the system. Boyd left his seat and made his way into the troop bay where Lorza was getting her bearings, peering out of a porthole at the icy planetoid as it shrank in the distance. They were still close enough to make out the continent-sized cracks in the ice, like innumerable scars criss-crossing its pale face.

"Good riddance," Lorza muttered, suddenly bitter. She might be remembering her lost crew, perhaps the incident with Alexei.

"We made it," he said, trying to sound positive. Lorza's expression softened.

"Yeah, not a bad job, mudak."

"How about we celebrate? I have something I think you'll enjoy." He gestured behind him to a crate full of canned food and ration packs, secured against the wall on a cargo pallet. "Don't eat it all at once, we don't know how many days we're going to be stuck out here until someone responds to our beacon."

Lorza set upon the crate, wasting no time picking up canned goods to check their labels and sorting through the rations. Boyd suddenly felt famished, it had been a week since he had eaten real food, the meat from the rainbow squid had sustained him but the prospect of having a meal that didn't taste like grilled rubber set his mouth watering.

"I expect you to demonstrate those MRE cooking skills you bragged about," he said, watching her as she piled plastic ration packets on the deck.