God will gitcha if you don't watch out. - Unknown

Strong enough for a man, made for a woman! - BobCo Personal Defense Division Advertisement

Be careful what you wish for! - Aladdin, Age of Wonders Royalty and Gentleman Adventurer

Dana'ahsh had been a worker at the starport on the planet he had been creched and raised in, checking the ID's and paperwork of incoming travelers. Then Shade Night had come and he had found himself following an insane Terran on a death ride to the planet's primary uplink to the superluminal communication systems.

It had been nothing but terror for Dana'ahsh, who could do nothing but follow instructions and pray to the Digital Omnimessiah that he would survive just one more minute.

Since then he had seen the Digital Omnimessiah himself, seen Kalki the Implacable, even met Bellona the Grave Bound Beauty. He had seen the walking dead, roving ghouls, and screaming shades. He had helped the Terran get to and search superluminal communication logs.

All in the pursuit of someone the Terran referred to as "Mother."

Now, standing between two of the crew members, his shotgun loaded again and ready, dressed in his red pajamas and his fuzzy bunny slippers.

Ahead of them were swarming shades, hovering around the jumpcore.

"Now what?" one of the crewmen asked. Dana'ahsh was sure he had a name, but to be honest, Dana'ahsh had found himself moving from one junker to the next so often he'd quit trying to learn the crewmen's names.

"That's a lot of them," another said. They looked at the salt-crystal sprayer they had and then at the shades. "I don't know if we can do anything about them."

Dana'ahsh just nodded.

The crewmembers tried to figure out why the Hashenesh among them was so calm, just staring at the shades swarming the jumpcore. He just looked grim, like he had already accepted what was going to happen and was no longer afraid or worried about the outcome.

They had all faced shades before and knew just how dangerous they could be.

To a man they knew they were afraid.

One of the crewmembers hefted their red painted shield and shook their iron sword. "They'll swarm us if we try to advance on them."

Another one nodded. "That's too much for even a square formation."

"Give Harry time, he'll come through," Dana'ahsh said.

The dogboi howl sounded again, still full of static and distortion.

The shades stopped in their endless circling for a moment, as one raising their faces and screaming back. Some rent at their own spectral flesh, others raised their clawed hands to the air as they screamed.

"If we survive this, I'm going to punch Sha.pek in her head," a crewmember mumbled.

"She knows how important that howl is," a second grumbled.

"She figured she'd just sit in her cabin and keep snorting crystal and touching herself," the first said.

"I'll touch her," another said, her voice low and ugly. She hefted the iron chopping blade. "Touch her in her no-no spot two or three times with this."

That got ugly laughs that were tinged with a heavy undercurrent of anger.

"You know she probably is going to survive this," one said.

"She's probably passed out in her bunk and will wake up wondering what everyone's mad about," the first said.

"I'll wake her up with this," the female with the chopping blade said. "Wake up, time for me to kill you."

That got a round of chuckles.

Another dogboi howl, still distorted.

"Damn it," a crewmember said.

There was a pop and a click through the speakers.

Dana'ahsh knew exactly what to do. He couldn't explain it to anyone else, but he knew that he'd just heard the signal.

"Follow me!" he yelled. He jumped the two meters down the stairs, his knees, hocks, and ankles twinging with pain at the shock, but he kept his balance and headed straight at the shades, shotgun tucked into his armpit.

The others hesitated a moment.

A group of four shades rushed Dana'ahsh, screaming, hands held out with the fingers bent into claws, their mouths open and screaming.

Dana'ahsh fired the shotgun, both barrels, and cracked it in the same motion, the shells popping out to clatter on the deck as he used three fingers to pull two shells out.

The rock salt and iron pellet buckshot took all three at chest level and ectoplasm sprayed out.

Dana'ahsh hoped he wouldn't wet himself as more swarmed toward him, even as he took two steps toward the shades, practice letting him push the shells in while still holding them between his fingers. He let the shells go, made a fist, and bumped the shells the rest of the way in with his fist, snapping the shotgun closed when he felt the shells click in.

The crewmembers ran down the steps, catching up.

Dana'ahsh fired again at the group of shades swarming. Ectoplasm sprayed and the screams cut out.

The lights flashed twice, coming back red with harsh sodium light backing.

The shades screeched, but still charged.

He had two on one side, two on the other, as he reloaded the shotgun, letting the spent shells fall to the floor where they clunked with a hollow plastic sound.

More swarmed.

The female Hamaroosan started chopping. Ectoplasm sprayed, limbs separated and disappeared, the shades screamed, and the Hamaroosan screeched back. The other three joined her, hacking at the shades, even as Dana'ahsh went from firing both barrels to firing a single barrel from the sawed off street howitzer.

The shades were all pulled away from the jumpcore, no longer swarming it and adding to their numbers through some kind of weird attraction through the jumpcore.

One of the males grunted, going down on one knee, shield held up as three Terran shades screamed and raked at it. His sword arm was limp, the blade falling from his hand.

Dana'ahsh blew the shades on the guy apart with a double-trigger pull and reloaded.

"Shit shit shit!" the female screeched out and a claw raked her face, deep enough to turn her fur white, make her face numb, but not deep enough to hit the bone or kill.

Dana'ahsh fired at the two on her, shattering them into ectoplasm.

We're going to lose, went through Dana'ahsh's head, but he refused to say anything. Instead, he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"PRESS THE ATTACK!" roared out from his mouth. He fired one barrel, then the other, then reloaded.

He was halfway through his bandoleer.

He nudged the switch with his elbow and the Class-I nanoforge at the base of the bandoleer started to hiss. Shells clacked out of it, the bandoleer's looped 'conveyor belt' system pulling shells up his chest even as the empty loops slid through the slit in the leather as the belt pulled them back toward the nanoforge and the loading mechanism.

He saw the two of them just as they swooped down from the darkness at the top of the jumpcore room. Hands clawed, mouths open.

Charcoal black with burning, molten red fissures across their bodies. Burning molten lava eyes. A maw of black needle-sharp teeth backed by glowing molten red.

He fired both shells.

Sparks showered from both as the impact knocked them back slightly.

shit shit shit

Dana'ahsh would never be able to explain how he pulled it off.

He cracked the shotgun. The empty shell casings flew over his shoulder. His hand dropped to his waist, slapping the top of the box on his belt. The box opened, revealing shotgun shells where the brass had been replaced by gold, the red plastic replaced by cream colored plastic with gold runes. The two shells slid between his fingers as he pulled them out. The tray system pushed two more forward as Dana'ahsh reloaded the shotgun in a smooth motion. As he snapped the shotgun closed, he pulled two more shells out and flung them upwards at the two charcoal figures, the angle of his grip causing the shells to separate and head for the two shades.

He fired just as the shells flying through the air were right in front of the charcoal shade's mouths.

Bright white with gold after-shock light wiped away the view of the two shades.

His hands were already moving. Crack the shotgun as you grab the shells, slap in the new shells, snap the shotgun closed.

The two charcoal shades vanished, charcoal dust puffing backwards as the two shells, blessed by the Digital Omnimessiah himself, exploded in their faces when hit by the pellets of the other two blessed rounds.

Dana'ahsh turned and shot four shades off of the right hand two crewmembers. He pivoted and shot the mass the other two on his left were holding back, grabbing his reloads even as he fired one-handed, the sawed off boomstick riding up so hard it made Dana'ahsh's elbow and shoulder ache.

There was another click over the PA.

The dogboi howl sounded out. Crisp, clear, full of emotion that Dana'ahsh didn't quite understand.

The remaining shades stopped, wailing with the dogboi howl, their hands reaching up imploringly.

Dana'ahsh slumped slightly, letting the Brixton typewriter hang down. He could feel the throbbing in his wrist, elbow, and shoulder that told him he'd be paying for that later.

The howl sounded again.

The shades let out a scream of agony and loss.

One of the crewmembers went to step forward and Dana'ahsh held out the shotgun with one hand, blocking them. When they looked at Dana'ahsh, he shook his head.

It sounded out a third time.

This time, the shades wailed in agonized sorrow and dissipated.

There was silence for a moment.

"All stations, check in," Dana'ahsh heard Harry say over the PA.

Dana'ahsh was just glad he hadn't pissed his britches again.

-----

The door of the turbolift opened and Captain Lag watched his three passengers exit. The boxy little robot looked just as battered and ready for the junkpile as ever, its worn tracks clattering. The Hashenesh looked just as stoic and silent as ever.

The Terran looked like malevolence made manifest, only his gunmetal gray eyes visible under the brim of his hat.

"We're about to drop from jumpspace into the system you've hired us to take you to," the Captain said.

The Terran just nodded. The robot beeped happily. The Hashenesh said nothing.

The Captain had heard how the ice-water-veined Hashenesh had just waded into the shades, firing that shotgun that was currently hanging from his belt.

"I've got the extra shuttle prepped. Are you sure you don't want a pilot?" Captain Lag asked.

The Terran shook his head. "We're both pilot rated," he said, twitching his hand to signify the Hashenesh.

"Four weeks. We don't hear from you then, we leave and collect the rest of your fee from the Junker's Association," Captain Lag said.

The Terran just nodded again.

"Realspace penetration in three... two... one..." the navigator called out.

The glowing, swirling grayish-blue vapors shown on the forward bridge viewscreen vanished, to be replaced by gleaming stars.

"Buoy communication. It's warning that this system is a Tomb World. Shades, walking dead, and worse," the communications officer said.

She had sobered up and her bruises had healed from where her fellow crewmembers had caught her in one of the side passages and made their displeasure known at her slacking off.

She'd only snorted a little bit of crystal an hour or so before.

"Transmit our Junker's Association and Junker's Guild ID, acknowledgement of their warning, and our intent to go to the fourth planet," Captain Lag said.

"Transmitting," she said. "Receipt checked. Verifying. Accepted," she leaned back. "We're free to visit the system and land on the planet."

"We'll be in orbit in six hours," the navigator said.

"We'll do pre-checks on the dropship," the Terran said, turning away.

The Captain just let the three of them go.

He'd watched the video.

A Terran, with blood cold as ice, burning red eyes when they weren't freezing gunmetal gray, packing serious lethal hardware, was the last thing he wanted to get in the way of.

-----

"They're away," the navigator said. "Good entry profile. Looks like least-time safe angle for the primary spaceport."

Captain Lag nodded.

He felt better having the trio off of his ship.

After a few minutes the communications officer looked up.

"They've transmitted that they're down and reminding us they have four weeks," she said.

Captain Lag just nodded.

"They report it looks like the ansible self-destructed," the communications specialist said.

There was silence on the bridge for a long moment.

"Transponder only from the dropship," the communications specialist said.

"Put us in a stable high orbit," Captain Lag said. He leaned back in his chair. "We're going to go over the security plating as well as repair our shade defense systems."

He didn't care that the communications officer's ears reddened in embarassment.

One of those shades had almost ripped his guts out before the dogboi howls had sounded.