Maniacs The Krittika Conflict - By Nick S. Thomas Page 0,29

agreement on choosing a mission. I don't see why that should change. Hella, you're on the payroll now, and Erin, whether you like it or not, you're involved in the decisions made while aboard. So, let's put it to a vote," he said, turning to Mitchell first.

"No," he stated after a short pause.

"No," Liu agreed.

Andrews shook his head. "Na, not the smart play."

He reached Erin to see she wanted to say yes, but couldn't bring herself to conflict with the rest of the crew who she owed her life.

"No," she whispered, dipping her head.

He finally turned to Hella.

"Well?"

"Doesn't matter what I think if you need all in to do it."

"Still, I like to know what people are thinking."

"I've been in that town two weeks, and yeah, they could do with some help. But no different to most other places I go. We're in this for the money, aren't we?"

Mason nodded in agreement.

"We're decided then. Patch the ship and get out of here?"

There were grunts of approval, despite the fact few of them liked the situation.

"Wizard, how long do you need to make that happen?"

"Two days, I reckon we'll be done."

"That's good work. Quicker than you expected."

"Well, I have been getting some help," he replied, glancing over to Liu.

"Never knew you liked getting your hands dirty," said Mason.

"Growing up all I wanted to be was a mechanic, but coming from a family of cops, what are you gonna do?"

Mason took a deep breath and then relaxed.

At least we have a plan now.

"All right. Mitchell, get the cards. It's time we settled in for the night and enjoy the time we have here."

"Hell, yeah!" he answered quickly and leapt from his chair.

They passed out the drinks, and for a couple of hours, forgot the world around them until finally the call came from Hella.

"We've got company!"

Mason jumped to his feet, grabbing his pistol from the table as he did so. The others were close behind him. They could see a few headlights on a solo vehicle approaching from the direction of town.

"Expecting anyone?"

"No one at all, Wizard. Erin, you have that rifle ready," he said, pointing at the one he'd given her. "Rest of you, too."

"Trouble?" asked Andrews.

"Not that I know of, but I'd bet good money this isn't a social call."

He stepped to the edge of the ramp and looked up to where Hella's voice had come from. He couldn't see her, for she sat on top of the fuselage with no lights at all.

"Hell? You keep an eye about us. This might not be our only guest."

She suddenly appeared at the edge, with her thick jet-black hair draping over the opening.

There’s still something that doesn't feel right about her. She seems all too familiar with my way of life, but I don't understand how.

"It's the Sheriff. Nobody else is with them."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure," she replied resolutely, as if there were no reason to doubt her.

"Well, okay."

He couldn't understand how she could know that much when to him it was just a blur in the distance. The vehicle got within a hundred metres, and in the limited moonlight they enjoyed he could see there were no obvious weapons or armour attached. It was a lightweight skimmer with ducted fans and a small crew of maybe two or three. It was indeed as Hella had said, the Sheriff's vehicle. He holstered his pistol and adjusted his gun belt.

"Lower you're weapons, but keep 'em close to hand!" he yelled to the crew. He turned back just as he thought it over. "And for God’s sake don't shoot them unless there is no other choice."

He didn't want to pick a fight, but he'd always be ready for one. The Boss had taught him that.

The skimmer came to a quiet stop but kicked up dust into the hold of the ship that wasn't appreciated by any of them. Mason spat out the mouth full of dirt over the side of the ramp as they got out.

"Captain Mason?" the first asked.

They stepped into the dull light emanating from the cargo area of the ship until he could make out their faces. The man wore a crest on his chest that he assumed denoted his position. The three all wore matching black dusters, but shared nothing else in common. One carried a rifle in his hands, the other a scatter laser. The man in the middle with the crest was empty handed, but Mason could see his coat flaring out slightly at the thigh