Bad Timing Read online

  By the end of the second day, Middenface was so sick of the sight of Johnny that he was contemplating changing partners when they got back to the Doghouse.

  On the third day, Middenface started flicking through the hyper-space vid-channels on his viewscreen, never staying more than twenty seconds on any one channel. It was clearly annoying the hell out of Johnny, which was kind of the point.

  Right now, the screen was showing a bland-faced reporter, who appeared to be standing at the epicentre of a small war, but was no doubt tucked safely in some studio miles from any danger. "And the anti-mutant riots have been gathering pace, as locals continue their campaign to oust local baker and mutant John 'the Bloater' Bignall from his shop. Controversially, Bignall has been accused by norm supremacists of baking the blood of norm babies into his bread-"

  Middenface flicked the control on the panel, and the screen changed to show a different reporter, a woman this time, but still with that same bland smugness they seemed to teach in journalism college. She smiled, revealing startlingly white teeth. "Controversy continues over who exactly is responsible for the explosion six months ago of a time bomb on Epsilon 5, the planet now commonly known as 'Speed.' Conspiracy theorists blame President Hillary the Third, who-"

  Flick. "Hillary the Third, who will be spending her vacation on the pleasure planet of Nuevo Ibiza, some say in a tryst with her mystery lover. The all-important question: what clothes will our president be packing for her trip? Our fashion expert has the low-down-"

  Flick. "You low-down, double-dealing scoundrel. I'll take this company back from you if it's the last thing I do! And then I'll win back the love of my wife, and my beautiful baby girl-"

  Flick. "Girl, I'm gonna get your love; like a force from above; like a falling dove-"

  "Shut that damn thing off, will ya!" Johnny suddenly shouted.

  Middenface turned round to argue, then saw that Johnny's body was leaning towards the viewscreen in a tense curve. He quickly flipped off the screen and tried to see what it was that had caught Johnny's attention.

  The first thing he noticed was that they had reached the outskirts of the asteroid field. The huge rocks hung in the void, imposing and improbable, a few kilometres in front of the shuttle and utterly dwarfing it. Even though the rational part of him knew there was no gravity out here in the depths of space, Middenface kept expecting them to drop. Then he spotted what had troubled Johnny, and he stopped worrying about the asteroids. Coming up fast on their right-hand flank was a ship, far bigger than theirs, its sleek lines radiating power.

  "Sneck!" Middenface said, and hurriedly set about getting their own vessel's inadequate defensive systems online.

  Johnny reached out and stopped his hand. "Looks kind of familiar, don't it?"

  Middenface frowned at the screen. Now Johnny mentioned it, it did kind of look like...

  "Durham Red," Johnny said, into the shuttle's comms unit.

  After a moment, a screen crackled into life, showing the face of the approaching ship's pilot. It was indeed Durham Red: fellow mutant, fellow bounty hunter, and - as far as Middenface was concerned - someone to be trusted about as far as she could be spat. She looked like a young woman, a flare of wild red hair outlining a face that was slightly too sharp to be beautiful, but certainly wasn't hard on the eye. But there was more to Durham than met the eye.

  She smiled, showing the fang-like incisors that revealed the true nature of her mutation, the vampirism which made her an outcast even among mutants. "Why, Johnny Alpha and Middenface McNulty. What a pleasant surprise!" There was a laugh hidden just beneath the surface of her voice.

  "Whit are ye doin' here, Red?" Middenface asked.

  She cocked her head to one side. "I could ask you the same question."

  Johnny sighed. "Yeah, and I guess we'd both give the same answer. So you heard about this job too?"

  "Yeah," Red said. "Got the message five days ago. Didn't know there was gonna be any competition. Still," and here her smile broadened, becoming less humorous, more predatory, "I guess if the job's gone by the time you get there, you'll just have to find work elsewhere. If you can."

  With that the screen went blank, and with barely a moment's pause, Red's ship swept away from them in a graceful arc and accelerated into the asteroid field. Johnny swore and thumped his hand into the console. Then he redlined their own drive and set off in pursuit.

  The asteroids loomed on the forward screen, growing closer, and bigger, with alarming speed. Soon, just one was visible, blotting out the surrounding stars until nothing was visible on the viewscreen except its enormous form.

  "Johnny-" Middenface shouted, scrabbling to do up his safety webbing.

  "Hang on to your lumps," Johnny said, pulling so hard on the steering lever that his knuckles whitened. With horrible slowness, the shuttle veered up and left, so close now to the rock's surface that Middenface could see the marbled veining on its surface. He breathed a huge sigh of relief - then sucked it in again as Johnny turned the nose of the ship down, straight towards the rock.

  For a moment, he thought they were going to die. But there was a cleft in the rock beneath them, narrow, dark and very deep. Johnny twisted the shuttle through ninety degrees, then accelerated down the length of the ravine, throwing the ship and its passengers from side to side as he negotiated the twists and turns. Then, suddenly, he jerked the nose up towards the twinkling sliver of sky.

  They shot out of the ravine and away from the rock into clear space. Looming ahead of them was the first of the Memorial asteroids, the huge sculpted head of Galactic Commission President Jimmy McGuire. And behind them a good thousand metres, was Durham Red.

  Middenface grinned. "Yer nae as cracked as ye look," he told Johnny admiringly.

  But Johnny was still frowning. "We haven't won yet."

  He was right. Metre by metre, Red was catching them up. Her ship might not have the manoeuvrability, but it sure as hell had the speed. Soon, they were neck and neck, racing towards the giant stone face of President McGuire. A few seconds later and Middenface could see the laugh lines around McGuire's eyes. Then they were so close he could make out the hollowed-out pits of the acne scars which the sculptor had faithfully dug into his cheeks. And still Red didn't change course.

  It was only when they could see the hairs poking out of the giant edifice of the sculpture's nose that Johnny swore and swerved the shuttle to one side, almost grazing the granite cheek as he went.

  But Red didn't swerve. She went in - plunging her ship into the sculpture's left nostril.

  "Damn it!" Johnny said.

  "How does she ken there's a way through?" Middenface asked, as the shuttle flew over the smooth whorls of the president's ear.

  "Probably doesn't. But knowing her luck, there is," Johnny replied.

  "Well, mebbe takin' this job wasnae such a good idea in the first place," Middenface said morosely.

  Johnny spared him a quick, astonished glance as the ship traversed the smooth expanse of McGuire's bald scalp. "We ain't giving up yet," he said.

  But they zoomed over the top of the sculpture to find Durham comfortably ahead of them and pulling further away. She was heading straight towards the head of President Nkobe, probably intending to perform the same trick again. Nkobe smiled serenely out at them, unconcerned with their petty rivalries.

  "But she's ahead o' us, an' she's got a faster ship," Middenface pointed out.

  "Yeah," said Johnny, "so I guess it's time to play dirty."

  "Dirty?"

  "What kind of guns has this hunk of junk got?" Johnny asked him, switching the ship briefly to autopilot as they shot forward through the empty space between the asteroids.

  "Ye cannae be thinking o' blowing Red away?" Middenface said, horrified. "When all's said and done, she may be a bitch, but she's still a Strontium Bitch, ye ken what I'm saying?"

  Johnny shook his head, still fiddling with the control panel in front of him. "Plasma torpedo. Good." He began to prime the launch sequen
ce. "I'm not going to blow her up," he told Middenface.

  Middenface relaxed back in his seat.

  "I'm going to blow that up," Johnny finished, nodding at the giant head of President Nkobe.

  Before Middenface could do more than jerk forward in alarm, Johnny pressed the LAUNCH button, and a streak of fire shot out from the shuttle towards the giant sculpture. There was a tiny moment of stillness after it struck - then the giant head exploded in a bloom of flame and red-hot debris.

  "Jings! Ye jus' blew up the eighth president o' the Galactic Commission!" Middenface shouted, clinging onto the sides of his seat as the shockwave of the plasma strike hit them. The entire shuttle vibrated so hard it felt like it might shake itself apart.

  Johnny shrugged. "Never liked him much anyway." He flung the shuttle round to the left, narrowly avoiding a twenty-metre high lump of granite that looked as if it might once have been the large mole on Nkobe's chin.

  Ahead of them, but losing ground, Red was having less success dodging the debris. The superior size of her ship might have given it greater speed, but also gave it greater inertia. As Middenface watched, she attempted to veer out of the path of a cluster of smaller rocks. She only half-succeeded, and the shrapnel from the explosion barrelled into the wing of her vessel. A small burst of white fire radiated from one of the points of impact and he saw her ship judder, then swerve, first one way, then another, as Red clearly fought to regain control.

  Middenface smiled. "Looks like one o' her thruster's gi'en up the ghost."

  Johnny allowed himself a tight smile. But it quickly dropped as the density of the debris storm increased. Avoiding any impact, even with Johnny's lightning-quick reflexes, became a near impossibility.

  A cluster of rocks hurtled towards them. Johnny banked left, narrowly missing one, executed a complicated corkscrew drop that took them past two and three - and found himself staring boulder number four right in the face. He tried to swerve, but it was clear they wouldn't have time. "Now might be a good time to man the laser cannon," he said quietly to Middenface.

  In a split second, Middenface realised the flaw in Johnny's plan. Red couldn't dodge her way round the rubble, but her ship could take the impact. It might be damaged by it, crippled even, but it - and Red - would live to fly another day. On the other hand, this shuttle wasn't built for war. It was a tourist run-around. One good impact and it would be bye-bye muties. Lunging desperately forward, Middenface grabbed the manual controls and swung the targeting helmet over his eyes. He had to fire before it had time to lock on, trusting to instinct and blind luck. For a second he thought he'd missed. Then the rock exploded into splinters. Even splinters, though, could be lethal at that speed, and Middenface listened with trepidation to the sharp sound of their impact against the shuttle's hull. But after a few moments, the pitter-patter of the pebbles' impact lessened, and apart from a slightly ominous burning-rubber smell coming from the rear generator, they seemed to have survived.

  The rubble began to thin after that, and Johnny navigated his way through without any further help from the laser cannon. Middenface relaxed and grinned at Johnny. "Think the shuttle company's gonna gi' us oor deposit back?"

  "We didn't pay a deposit."

  Middenface's grin widened. "Aye. Just as weel, eh?"

  Now that the worst was over, he risked a quick look through the rear screen. Durham Red was well behind them. She'd steered sideways to avoid the worst of the debris, but it had cost her time, time that her now pock-marked and scarred ship would find it hard to make up. "Looks like we won this one," Middenface said.

  Johnny ran one hand tiredly over his eyes, the eyes that norms always found so disturbing, glowing with the fire of the alpha rays which sharpened his senses, sometimes allowed him to look beyond the flesh, into the minds of others, but which forever marked him as outcast, mutant. "Yeah," he said, "and now we get to collect the prize."

  And there it was, floating in front of them at last, the kilometres-high head of Galactic Commission President Hillary the Third. Even from a distance of several thousand metres the scaffolding that surrounded the sculpture was visible, crawling all over the incomplete right-hand side of her face like a rash. As they drew closer, Middenface thought he could make out ships hovering around the statue's nose like droplets of mucus from a sudden sneeze.

  "What are they?" he asked.

  "Dunno. Workmen?"

  Middenface shook his head. "Naw, have you nae heard? They stoapped workin' on her three years ago. Said they shouldha' been getting paid a day's wage every five hours cos that's hoo long the day is oan the nearest planet. 'Sides, they dinnae look like workmen's ships tae me."

  Johnny cut the fusion engine's power as they neared the giant head, so close now that the sculpture's giant nose blotted out all the stars above them. The other ships hung around them, powerless and seemingly deserted.

  Middenface scowled. "I dinnae like the look o' this. I say we get oot o' here sharpish."

  That was when a blue-green tractor beam shot from the station and pinned their shuttle like a fly in amber.

  2 / UNREFUSABLE OFFERS

  Johnny wrestled frantically with the controls, but the shuttle simply wasn't powerful enough to break free of the tractor beam. After a second he leant back, thumping a fist onto the console in frustration. "Sneck!"

  He looked behind them, and saw that Durham Red too had finally made it to the asteroid. She spotted their ship and - clearly keen to escape the same fate - quickly begun to swing round and away from the asteroid.

  Not quick enough, though. A second beam shot out from somewhere inside the asteroid sculpture and snatched hold of Red's ship. Maybe, if she'd been at full power, she'd have been able to beat it. As it was, with all the damage she'd sustained in their recent race, she was as powerless as them.

  "Now whit dae we dae?" Middenface said.

  Johnny shook his head. "Don't know. But if they'd wanted to kill us, they've had their chance. Guess they'll tell us what they want soon enough."

  A second later, their comms unit gave a sharp shriek as it leapt into life. "Welcome, Strontium Dogs," a voice boomed out, but the viewscreen remained dark, denying them a chance to identify its owner. "So very glad you came."

  Middenface leant forward aggressively to shout into the unit. "Aye weel, if this is how you greet your guests, it's nae wonder ye dinnae get many visitors."

  There was a light chuckle from the comms unit. "Don't worry, Mr McNulty. If you'd just care to step into the teleport beam behind you, I can assure you you'll be greeted with every courtesy once you arrive."

  As it spoke, Johnny sensed a low hum, so deep in pitch it registered more in his stomach than his ears, and there was a sudden sharp ozone tang in the air. He snapped his head round. At the rear of the cabin, a metre-thick column of air was shimmering, distorting the view behind it like water.

  Johnny eyed the beam warily as he spoke into the communicator. "And just why the hell should I trust you enough to step into that beam?"

  "Now," said the voice, "what have I ever done to deserve that kind of attitude?"

  Johnny grimaced. "If I knew who you were, maybe I could answer that question. But you haven't told us jack, about yourself or the job."

  "Step into the beam and you'll get the answer to all your questions."

  "Aye," Middenface interrupted, in a low grumble. "Or an end to all oor questions."

  "Well, it's up to you, of course," the voice said calmly. "But I can tell you one thing: your ship isn't going anywhere." There was another harsh squawk, and the communicator went dead.

  Middenface looked at Johnny. "Reckon we could use one o' yer time grenades to send us back before we got caught in the beam."

  Johnny considered it for a second, but the grenade's blast wasn't wide enough to take in the whole shuttle, and without it a trip back in time would fling them out into the icy voids of space to die a quick, but still painful, death. "Nope," he said.

  Middenface scratched his lumps, then
sighed and stood up to face the teleport beam. "In that case, doesnae look like we've got a choice."

  There was a moment of disorientation as Johnny stepped into the beam, the horrible sensation of his molecules being jerked apart, to be flung one by one through the hyperspace wormhole of the teleport.

  Then his molecules reassembled themselves with a feeling like God clapping his hands, and Johnny staggered a moment, blinded.

  When he straightened and his vision returned, he saw that he wasn't alone. Alongside Middenface, there were eight other people in the large antechamber in which he found himself. And, from their badges, they were all Strontium Dogs. Most wore the standard-issue armour, including a hugely fat woman who looked to be as wide as she was tall, and she was pretty damn tall. Johnny had never seen her before - he sure as hell would have remembered. There was one Dog he recognised, by reputation alone: a craggy-faced mutant dressed all in worn black leather who had a gaping void where his left eye should have been. One-Eyed Jack, they called him. Only mutation he had was a sixth finger on his right hand, but these days that was enough. Rumour had it he'd had chrono-surgery to send his other eye ten seconds into the future so nothing could ever take him by surprise.

  Five of the others - standing huddled in tense discussion - were dressed in some kind of bright red, form-fitting uniform of their own. They looked jittery and uncomfortable. Johnny guessed they were novices, maybe on their first mission.

  All the Strontium Dogs turned to stare at Johnny and Middenface as they arrived. "Well I'll be goddamned if it isn't Johnny Alpha!" said the nearest.

  "Hot Rod! Thought you were cleaning up the western spiral arm," Johnny said to the gangly mutant, whose skin glowed an alarming, virulent shade of red.

  "Got an offer of a job," Hot Rod said.

  "Yeah, us tae," said Middenface. "Dinnae suppose any o' youse knows wha brought us here?"

  One of the group of five stepped forwards, flicking her long black hair back from the icy perfection of her face, and smiling slightly condescendingly at them. Up close, Johnny saw that her SD badge had been modified, so that the letters stood out against an embossed black X. "We don't know any more than you do," she said. "We were just offered a job. And frankly, we weren't expecting company."