The Road to Hell Read Online Free Page A

loading bay was full of star freighters packed full of contraband, all trying to leave the dock at the same time. Whining, grinding engines sent out a deafening noise as the freighters powered up. Several transports lifted off, driving up toward the safety of the dark, foreboding clouds. Police cruisers swarmed around the side of the factory, flying into the loading dock with sirens blazing.
    “ This way.”
    Harrison ran to the back of the dock and into the maintenance yard.
    A row of hover cars and freighters sat in the numbered engine bays, all of them in various states of disrepair. Having the vehicles set in dry-dock allowed metal fatigue inspections of the entire hull as well as easy access to the propulsion jets set below the vehicles. One of the newer cruisers had been stripped down and chopped up for parts. Several mechanics jumped down into the service bays, ducking beneath the stripped-down cruisers as they scrambled out of the maintenance yard on foot.
    Harrison smiled. There she was, down in the last bay, a vintage Plymouth Falcon. At forty-seven feet in length, she was oversized by modern standards, one of the first cruisers to use a fully-suspended fusion drive with a hybrid pulse engine. Both gull-wing side doors were open, raised up high above the body of the craft like a bird ready to take flight.
    “ Get on board,” cried Harrison as he whipped off the engine covers. The alloy gravitation pumps were already warm. Rosie was at work.
    “ This bucket of bolts,” replied Susan coming to a halt in front of the open door of the cruiser. “This is your plan? To escape in a museum piece?”
    “ This bucket of bolts is about to save your ass,” said Harrison, pushing her on board.
    A musty smell hung in the air.
    “ We’re dead,” replied Susan looking around at the interior of the craft. Packets of half-eaten Chinese takeaways littered the ageing shag pile carpet floor. Foam stuffing broke through the rotten stitching on the bulkhead. Water stains seeped down from the ceiling of the cockpit. And the smell. Susan almost gagged.
    “ Oh, this is disgusting. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when you close the side doors.”
    “ Laugh it up,” replied Harrison, busily punching buttons and flicking switches, “She may not be pretty, but this baby’s a beast under the hood.”
    An explosion at the far end of the maintenance area signalled the arrival of the police in force.
    “ Are you ready, Rosie?”
    “ Just say the word,” came the reply from the wrist communicator.
    Blaster packets began pelting the side of the vehicle. Harrison took off his wristwatch communicator and tossed it on the pilot's seat. Without a word he pushed Susan out of the cockpit and back into the entry way. He motioned with his shotgun, pointing toward the far door of the cruiser.
    “ What are you doing?” asked Susan in surprise.
    “ Get out,” Harrison replied coldly.
    “ Wh-What?”
    Time seemed to come to a halt as Susan’s eyes settled on the pitted barrel of the shotgun just inches from her waist. As harsh as it was being shot at by the police, the rush of adrenalin had carried her through the moment, but this, this was different. This was personal. Suddenly, the threat of dying became very real. Life moved in slow motion. The blaster sounds, engine noise and confusion around her faded into the background as she focused on the shotgun pointing at her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she realised Harrison was deadly serious.
    “ I said, get out,” repeated Harrison softly.
    Susan just stood there in disbelief as he shoved her over toward the far door.
    “ This is about trust, remember,” he added as he stood in the doorway and pushed her out with the heel of his boot. Harrison hit a large panel on the side of the vehicle with the flat of his hand and the gull-wing doors of the craft began to close.
    “ No,” cried Susan as she slipped and fell awkwardly, sliding down the gap between