Unstable Prototypes by Joseph Lallo

fail,
the first order of business is to determine how best to inflict
bodily harm on other humans while immersed in that environment. It
became clear in a matter of moments that, yes, there was indeed a
form of martial arts that was performed in zero-gravity while one's
hands were bound, and yes, this man was well versed. A quick tap of
his toes pivoted his body around, allowing his hands to grip the
rail behind him. Thus anchored, he delivered a swift kick to one
guard causing him to spin uncontrollably. A thrusting heel sent him
ricocheting down the shaft. His partner managed to raise a stun
rod, but a heartbeat later the prisoner's feet were locked about
his wrist. A quick crouching motion yanked the guard forward, and a
subsequent twist and mule kick launched the unlucky escort directly
at his partner. The two collided, forcefully dislodging the plasma
pistol that the latter had drawn. The entire display was over in
two seconds, but it had given Ma time to release his hand
restraints as well. The skilled prisoner plucked the liberated
pistol from the air, stowed Ma under one arm, and propelled himself
away from his former captors. A chime from the slidepad on Ma's
harness drew his attention. Displayed on it screen was a map of the
station with a highlighted route.
    #
    "That was a somewhat graceless solution, but
the results are inarguable," Ma stated in Lex's ear, amid much
static and distortion.
    "What's that, Ma? I can't hear you. I think
the hands-free is out of range."
    "Have you reached the ship yet?" she asked,
voice slightly clearer.
    "I'm barely halfway down the next shaft. Why,
are you done already?"
    As a response, alarms began to sound, leading
to utter panic in a space station that was already having
difficulty dealing with the sudden arrival of an unexpected
ship.
    "I guess so," he remarked.
    "I suggest you move very quickly."
    "You don't need to tell me twice!" he
affirmed, launching himself along the corridor.
    Navigation was immensely simpler with both
hands free, though the atmosphere of chaos slowed him down
somewhat. He darted about the shaft, avoiding dislodged carry-on
bags and commuters clumsily trying to figure out which way to flee.
After a second turn brought the entrance to docking bay-I into
view, a louder bit of commotion behind him prompted him to turn.
The prisoner was, to put it bluntly, showing off. With Ma tucked
under his arm like a football, he was practically sprinting along
the walls, springing back and forth with flawless pivots to give
himself enough momentum for another few steps.
    "I am engaging an auto-start sequence on the
SOB's systems," Ma stated as she passed. "Minimum operational
readiness will be achieved in approximately forty-five
seconds."
    The escaped convict dove through the door to
the docking bay, Lex snagging the edge and hauling himself through
shortly after. The pair converged on dock 85.
    "Ah, yes. I rather thought you would be here.
Fellow from first class, yes? I believe this is yours," the convict
said, handing over Ma. "Terribly sorry, won't be a moment."
    He drifted slightly back into the main area
of the bay, which had the general appearance of a wider than
average shaft with regularly spaced garage-sized alcoves leading to
the airlocks associated with each bay.
    "Ahem! Attention, denizens of..." he
proclaimed, turning aside to Lex to quietly add. "What docking bay
is this, my boy?"
    "I."
    "Denizens of Bay-I! Anyone still lingering
within my general vicinity in the next thirty seconds will be
considered hostages, and thus will be joining me when I leave in my
ship. Whether or not you fit inside said ship is not my
concern, you'll be coming along regardless! For those doubtful of
my ability to enforce such a policy, may I direct your attention to
my right hand!"
    He raised the pistol in the indicated hand.
The response was immediate, with a flood of people moving in a
crazed mob toward the exit, forcing back the security officers and
guards that were trying to