SESSION 4

Spike settled into the pilot seat of his Swordfish II and flicked on the receiver as he shoved the bulky key into the ignition. Flipping another switch, he jerked back as the com squealed and blared.

"You read me, kid?" Jet's voice crackled over the frequency.

He rolled his eyes at the annoying nickname. "Loud and clear. We're synced."

"Can that antique even fly?"

"No. I dragged it into your hanger when you weren't looking." Spike smirked, his hand on the key. "Of course she can fly. She's been reliable for the past seven years and shows no signs of slowing down." At least someone was reliable. He could always count on Swordfish to have his back.

"Riiiight."

Spike let her speak for herself. He turned the ignition and her roar shook the Bebop's hanger. Bright blue exhaust washed over everything. "Besides, you're not one to talk. How old is that tugger you're in?"

"The Hammerhead? She's in her prime."

He laughed. "Shows your judge of character."

"Hey!"

"Met you there. Remember, south side. But land to the east, behind the rise. We don't want them seeing us coming. We don't exactly look like Jeeters."

"Who says I'm taking orders from you? This is my bounty!"

Spike pulled on his finger-less flight gloves and chuckled. "Fine, cowboy. You just blaze right in there and see how Topaz deals with an impostor. You won't get close enough to see a hair on her head."

A long silence followed. "Was that a bald joke?"

He grinned and revved the engine. Releasing the brake, he opened her up and let her roll onto the deck. She screamed into the air and tucked her landing gear. The Bebop shrank in the distance behind him. A small blip appeared in the jet-wash. The Hammerhead lumbered in the wake. Spike maneuvered the Swordfish in a wide arc and came behind the old tugger. Punching the throttle he blew past Jet in a tight corkscrew over her bow.

"Show off!"

Spike chuckled into the com. "Don't ask for it, pal."

"Is that a plasma cannon?"

"Yup."

"Does it work?"

"Want a demonstration?" Spike reversed the thrusters and threw Jet a wry grin as the Hammerhead creapt into view through the cockpit bubble.

Jet's eyes narrowed as the Swordfish edged behind him. "No you don't. I like this ship in one piece."

"You're learning."

"What?"

"To be careful what you ask for." The Swordfish shot ahead over the crater city.

The view from up here nothing short of spectacular. Every speck of grime and poverty faded into the lush landscape tucked inside the crater's protective bio-shield. From an airborne cockpit, the Martian crater was a gem paradise in a dusty red desert. The height erased the threat of the scheming thugs littering the floor of the valley like Titan roaches in a TJ diner. He soared out over the city arcing to the south-east.

No sense in tipping anyone off. He swept in low, letting the remnants of a skyscraper cover his final approach. There was enough commotion from a nearby mining operation to cover the sound of the engine. With luck, no one saw.

Spike ditched his flight gloves and plucked the key from the ignition. He leapt out of the cockpit just as the Hammerhead touched down. While waiting, Spike checked to see if he had a full clip in his gun. Better to be prepared than full of holes. He tucked it back into the holster and leaned against the side of his craft as Jet climbed out.

"This is a fair way off, kid. You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Could ask you the same." Spike threw his thumb toward the unseen ziptrain station. "What were you planning on doing? Landing on her? The tonnage would crack her skull like a Ganymede rock lobster. But if that's how you like your bounties." He shrugged. "Go for it."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jet barked. "You got a better idea?"

Spike delivered a sweeping kick to a pile of boards. Behind their scattered remains, a dark tunnel appeared. He shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched, looking at the passage. "Well, I was thinking this would be a good approach. Or you can walk right in the front door and get shot. Your choice, pal. Either way, see you on the other side."

"Wait a minute. Why don't we draw her out. You know, thus the expert in battle moves the enemy, and is not moved by him. Or, something like that."

Spike gave him a half-lidded stare. "Not my favorite Art of War quote." He slipped into the tunnel, his voice echoed, "In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. That makes things much more interesting."

Jet's footsteps carried from behind. "That's your plan? To basically … not have one?"

Spike nodded.

"That's crazy. Or at least a great way to get killed."

Spike glanced over his shoulder and shrugged in the dim lights washing over them from the other end of the tunnel. "Pretty much. Plans go sideways faster than an asteroid collision. So only a dead fool relies on them."

Jet made a rude noise and mumbled something. After a pause he asked, "Is this an access tunnel?"

"Maintenance. But who bothers with upkeep on an out-of-order station? Makes for an easy place to slip in and out without anyone being the wiser."

"I didn't even know this was here."

Spike grinned and paused in the last shadow of the tunnel. His hand reaching back for his gun as he whispered, "Which left you with the option of waltzing in the front door with a target on your head. How long you say you been doing this, Jet? Four years?" He held up a hand and listened.

It was quiet.

Too quiet. Not even a bird flitted in the rafters.

Jet edged closer and peered out into the half collapsed station's remains. Stiff shadows stretched across the floor, reaching toward the tunnel with fingers of light. "There's no one out there."

Spike clung to the darkness. He swore he saw something shift across the room, second story. A trick of the light? This could all be a set up, a trap.

Or they were alone, merely chasing shadows.

"This is getting us no where. Come on." Jet waved a hand and walked into the shaft of light.

The flash of a muzzle caught Spike's right eye. He shoved Jet in the back, knocking him to the ground. The bullet ricocheted off the wall in the space they had both occupied a moment before.

"So much for the element of surprise!" Spike only had a split-second to glare at Jet before dodging another bullet with a grunt. He rolled behind a pile of debris. Jet ducked behind a pillar. Both had pulled their guns. "Hey Jet, there's something more practical than that Art of War shit."

"Yeah?"

He glanced up at a fraying tension wire. The wall where it was attached had been rent by an immense stress crack. All of this not far from where he had seen the betraying flash. Spike grinned devilishly and aimed for the rusted bracket in the crumbling wall. "Physics."

Bang!

His bullet struck the loose corner of the plate. It audibly vibrated, followed by a sickening groan.

Pa-ting! Whooosh!

See you, Space Cowboy!