Murder on Euripides by Scott A. Combs

Author:Scott A. Combs
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Nutz & Boltz Productions
Published: 2018-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

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SIR GILES AWOKE with a throbbing headache and an unexpected view. He was in a spacesuit staring back at the Euripides in the void, pivoting counterclockwise along his Z axis. A clay pigeon disc affixed to his back. Looking down he saw that nanobots had formed a strapping around his midriff. Every once in a while he got a glimpse of Bobbafeather in the same plight as himself. Both were strapped to a large clay target and drifting further and further from the Euripides in the vastness of deep space. Off in the far distance he could barely make out the SATO fleet encircling the luxury space liner.

Then a stream of las-blasts shot past both of them without a sound. Someone was shooting at them from what he guessed was about two thousand meters. He looked around to orient himself and noticed a gouge out of his disc the shape and size of a las-blast. That explained his odd rotation. He’d been grazed.

Another torrent of pulses shot past them; the origin seemed closer this time. Whoever was shooting wasn’t a very good marksman, which he was thankful for. But it was only a matter of time before the sniper would make good on his fatal efforts. Sir Giles wondered how he could change his trajectory. Then he remembered Ole Gerty in its holster. Alarmed, he inventoried his spacesuit and found an airlock pouch made to introduce or remove items to and from his suit. He began coaxing the gun out of its holster in hopes of slipping it into the double-lined compartment of the pouch. Gravity had no effect on the weapon and his deft hands prodded the Beretta into the small compartment. He looked down to see what the instructions indicated to remove the contents. He pressed the inner seal button to isolate himself from the void. Then came the outer seal button which gave him access to the contents of the pouch. The little weapon was there in his hands … only his suited fingers were too large to pull the trigger easily.

A pulse nearly hit him lighting up the surface of the disc and spacesuit. He needed to try to alter his position so he was out of the line of sight of the shooter. Carefully he calculated the vector that would yield the best results. He pointed the gun and tried to lace a finger into the trigger. Finally he felt the hammer give slightly. Now he hoped that the bullets had enough oxygen in the sealed cartridge to fire. He made the muscles in his arms rigid to transfer the kinetic energy and fired. There was a silent flash from Ole Gerty and he changed trajectory, veering off, spinning towards the Euripides’ starboard side. He was moving out of range of the shooter but Bobbafeather spun abysmally in place, awaiting another volley of death from the sniper. And it came. A las-pulse struck the ambassador dead center. His little body erupted in a plume of hot gasses.

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