There was no surviving such an explosion, the hidden group was dead.

How many gone in an instant?

No time.

Mars is engaging the second group already, gunfire is exchanged. Switch to the scavenged gun and aim down the iron sights. Cover her approach, force the enemy to stay behind walls facing my direction as she kills those who stay and spares those who run. Soon the enemy is dead or dispersed.

She gestures to follow.

We meet down by the entrance to the docks.

“Just the last part of the plan left. Ready?” Mars asks.

“Ready.” Am I?

“Then we split here, I won’t be around to fight for you.”

“I know, I’m ready.”

“See you soon then.”

She runs down towards our ship as I turn left towards the rest of the docks.

Entering the station means registering and leaving your ship under trust, Gordo’s associates are certainly aware of this information, they can’t let us leave or they’ll face an absolute loss of credibility but their foot soldiers have proven ineffective.

My long-range hauler, the ship we arrived on, will be trapped. We have to leave it behind since we don’t know how it may be modified or sabotaged but we can’t let our opponents be aware of our decision lest they resort to more drastic measures in an attempt to stop us from escaping.

Mars will be the decoy and I have to secure our means to escape.

Thankfully Gordo is famous for several things; or was, rather. He coordinated scavengers all over Jupiter’s orbit, he could get you any component but often kept the best material for himself, he loved racing.

On a small docking station, only accessible through a private elevator, he stored his baby. Hijacking the elevator was simple, security for these things was fit to defend against random passerby’s, not prepared professionals. Pry open the doors and get in, open the embedded terminal, find the correct circuits, bridge them. A lock pad would be better security.

The larger problem would be the armed guard permanently stationed behind those doors, one of Gordo’s most trusted men. Once the elevator arrived at the bottom it would open its doors and then, informed of everything going on topside, the guard would open fire into the cabin and kill me.

In fact, all of that has already happened. Except I’m alive.

A guard steps into the elevator, slowly. He seems confused as he looks around, the cabin was empty.

He freezes.

He looks up.

Thirty years old maybe, wrinkles mark his eyes as they open wide in surprise and fear.

His brains splatter the floor.

These sorts of elevators have access hatches at their tops and bottoms, an emergency feature in case of power or gravity outage.

I dropdown.

Behind me is the corpse. In front of me my target.

“La nave del Gordo, ¿eh?”

Painted brightly in whites and yellows, an aerodynamic profile fit for space travel and atmospheric flight, and ridiculous thrust-to-weight ratio.

This is our way out.

A ship like this requires a spatialized suit to pilot, it is hanging inside an unlocked locker by the side. Unlike a normal spacesuit, this one can apply pressure to the body while coordinating with implants and a highly sophisticated sealed helmet, allowing the pilot to withstand higher g-forces. It also makes it hard to put on but soon I’m properly dressed and in front of the ship.

The suit must be chipped somehow because the bulkheads open automatically and let me into the two-person cabin.

I sit down on the ergonomic chair and the ship responds by closing up and completely enveloping my body in cool gelatinous plastic. Claustrophobic. Camera feeds come to life in front of my eyes, five centimeters from my nose.

The hangar bulkheads open, atmosphere rushes out into the void.

High output repulsors go online and the whole machine shivers with contained power.

My hands are shaking.

Liftoff is brutal, 0-100 Km/h in less than a second, over nine g´s of acceleration instantly. One moment the ship is inside the station in another the steel is gone and the void surrounds me completely.

“Aaaaajajaja!”

I can understand Gordo´s obsession with this machine, this speed makes you feel as if you could run from everything.

Soon the station is visible again, I can see my hauler in the distance. Slow down and stop.

It’s a waiting game now.

Eventually, movement. My hauler detaches and advances forward but as it moves away its airlock doors are visibly open. Mars stands between them, exposed to the void except by her special-made suit. She pushes off and the doors close behind.

Floating in nothingness the muted red-brown hue of her suit makes her hard to spot even for me as I approach.

Hold on tight and open the airlock.

Wait for her to enter.

Close the airlock.

“Good job.” She speaks.

Light and silent energy flash as my hauler breathes its last gasp, exploding as sabotage runs its course.

Goodbye, old friend.

I’m tired.

“Let’s go home, I need to eat.”