Starship Rogue series Box Set Page 3

  Deidra scowled. “There’s more of them coming in from Thetis Station. Fire everything you have at them! I can’t keep flying this thing forever out of their line of fire.”

  I released one of the mines and knocked the first ship out of commission. Marty launched multiple torpedoes and tagged the hostile’s wing companion. But one slipped through our net as more fire came angling our way, hitting us bowside. Goliath lurched. I was jarred out of my seat.

  T minus 10. We were almost at warp distance.

  Almost is never enough though.

  That last enemy hurt us bad, a clean strike whistling off our port, battering our shields down to zero. Ruptured something inside. Smoke swirled from our bridge’s component towers. I groaned, pulled myself up, slapped hands on the console in frustration. I coughed, waved away the smoke as Marty rubbed his eyes.

  How the day was turning sour.

  “Varwol sapped out. No chance of warping out,” Marty croaked, wiping the sweat and smoke out of his eyes.

  I saw the gauges plummet. We’d be lucky to limp to some nearby station or have enough cabin air to make it to the nearest moon.

  On reserve power, I sent out the last of the cloud mines. Just as our triumphant V-Zon was about to send in a probe, its hull shone green and the bastard hung disabled in space.

  My hopes for success died. I saw a long slog to oblivion, and then lights out.

  “What now?” Marty’s voice sounded thick in his throat.

  “Back to Thetis. No place else nearby. If we can land, we’ll have a chance at repairs and think of some way of slipping out from underneath Sharki’s net.”

  “Oh, that easy, is it?” said Deidra.

  “You got a better plan?”

  Marty and she scowled, looked away.

  We turned about back to the hated, grey-green disc that was coming in fast. Thetis. Somehow I’d known that planet would be my bane. My mind was going in too many directions at once. If we came across more V-Zons…

  No, don’t think like that, Rusco. I thrust my attention back to the woman.

  “About this Sharki thing. What’s he got on you?”

  I could see it was no small thing this hold of terror the kingpin had over her.

  She spoke in a bleak monotone. “Told me if I ever betrayed him, sure as rain he’ll brothel me up, pimp me out on Thetis, Mekeroid, anywhere, till I’m a stinking, used-up piece of flesh.”

  “Scumbag. Well, if we can get this shipment to Valdair, pawn it off to the highest bidder, we’ll have enough funds to keep you out of his grasp. Not a fan of Sharki’s modus operandi. Man’s a slimeball.”

  She didn’t seem too reassured by that plan. “It’s a nice dream, Rusco, but with a broken ship, no means, and right from under the nose of the alligator? He’ll kill us outright. I’ve told you many times.”

  “He’ll give up when he can’t find us.”

  “Yeah, right.” She shook her head. “Sharki’s like a pit bull that sinks his teeth into a shin bone. He’ll never let go.”

  “Makes no sense. Why mess with small time peddlers like us? Got enough beryl on Thetis to burn. Doesn’t the sod have better things to do than chase us? He’s wasted three plus ships already.”

  She exhaled an impatient breath. “You still don’t get it. He’s under the thumb of some megalomaniac warlord. Sharki can’t afford to lose one shipment to some rinky-dink raiders, like you, or Skugs for that matter. This same warlord, some Star Lord he calls himself, will have him by the balls if he reneges on his shipments, even by one crystal. You think Sharki’s a cruel bastard. This guy makes Sharki look like a newborn lamb.

  “This warlord have a name?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  Marty just laughed. “Yeah, sure, everyone’s got a pressure cooker looming over his head. Warlords, star lords. Some have—”

  “Zip it, Marty. Concentrate on landing this crate and dodging lightfighters.”

  He grunted an oath; he busied himself applying some regen to his left arm still bleeding from gunshot graze. The man seemed immune to pain.

  Despite Deidra’s fear that Sharki would make a sex slave out of her, all evidence hinted his V-Zons had been out to kill.

  * * *

  While we still had power, we made our wary descent to the far side of the grey-green planet that waxed in her sun Vala’s pale light. Thetis Station we gave a wide berth. We’d taken care of Sharki’s lightfighters for now, but I had no doubt he’d send out more on our tails before long.

  I ran my eyes over the holo index. AI computer nav said Tyrone City was our best bet for repairs. Blackwater and Narpoon Town were other possibles. Deidra verified each with a sullen nod.

  We entered the atmosphere and swung in on a sharp angle, over swamps and mangroves, me gritting my teeth, hoping that Goliath wouldn’t fail us. That trail of smoke behind us didn’t look too encouraging.

  Thetis was a gloomy world set with perpetual clouds and a windless stained backdrop of sky, dusky yellow and now morphing into a puce green.

  Goliath was sputtering, her engines sounding rougher every minute. The thin trail of smoke streaming from her tail piece was ever widening.

  The first lights of the capital city winked off in the distance.

  “We’ll give Tyrone City a wide miss,” I confirmed as we swung low over the brooding terrain. “Not an inspiring landscape by any standard.”

  “Just a few shallow puddles the locals call lakes here,” Deidra said, inclining her head to stunted trees and meandering dirt roads.

  We followed one of the wider roads. Up ahead, cranes, gantries and other heavy equipment sat lined around the edges of a sizeable complex. Would serve as a good cover.

  “There—that yard over there. We can hide out and make repairs. Someone’ll have the smarts to fix this ship, judging from all those rigs and cranes.”

  “You think?”

  Deidra thumbed through the index. “Just another crazy crog who has multiple businesses going.”

  “Crog?”

  “It means, refinery man. Lots of ’em here on Thetis. Beryl’s as common as sand fleas.”

  “Good to know. What other businesses he have?”

  “Says here, dog yard, or animal yard of some sort, repair station, heavy engines and whatnot, welding shop, yada yada, cutter and refiner of raw beryl.”

  “Sounds good enough. I’m surprised Sharki hasn’t gobbled up places like this. A jealous, spiteful man like that. You’d think he’d string the owners up by the toes, all of them competing against him.”

  “Nah.” Deidra barked out a laugh. “Sharki’s got these small-time locals beat with his big ass solar gun. Churns out a hundred times the output of all of them put together down here.”

  I looked at her with curiosity. “Why so glum? You should be happier than a pig wallowing in shit to have escaped him.”

  “You don’t know him. If only you knew the half of it.”

  Marty spat. “I could give two shits about this Sharki. He’ll get a fistful of my brass knuckles.”

  She scowled, turned her back and looked off into space. “Idiot,” she mumbled under her breath.

  I laughed. We were all going to get along fine…

  Chapter 3

  Goliath hovered over the refinery and landed amidst the sprawl of equipment in the open yard. Deidra moved away from the controls, evidently eager to be first off the ship.

  I motioned my firearm. “No, you’re staying back aboard.”

  “Like shit, Rusco, I’m in this as much as you.”

  “Should I bind her?” Marty suggested.

  “Do we have to take it that far?”

  “Lock her in the forward bin then,” Marty advised. I herded her over with my rifle while Marty grinned.

  She shoulder-checked by me with a strangled howl. “What the hell are you talking about? I thought I was your ally?”

  I rubbed the sting out of my arm. “Not just yet. You haven’t earned my trust. Remember you were ready t
o stick an ice pick in my head. Sorry, but if you think for a second, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  Marty hauled her roughly into the forward bulkhead and slammed the door shut. He set the electromag combo lock to auto and gave it a twirl. “Little birdie’ll sit tight till the cows come home.”

  I grunted a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, you tell ’em. Let’s see what we can dig up in this dog yard out there.”

  Marty took an extra R4 from the wall, stubbly cheeks creased in a smirk. I gripped my rifle. I was getting sick of that smirk. But then again, I guess he was sick of mine.

  We stepped out of the cargo hold, fingers ready on our guns. Low cement walls to either side, wavy wire fence and electro-gates at front and back. Crushed stone along the edges, otherwise grey hardtop up the middle. Smoke came from our rear vanes. I followed the trail of grey curly vapor as it licked around the landing gear and paused, shaking my head in dismay at the big gaping hole to left center. Some score marks pocked the middle of the fuselage. Armored plates torn back and colored fluids leaking from exposed pipes. Damn, she’d taken a beating. Goliath was not looking good. Marty stared, tugging at the bristle on his chin.

  This place was a lonely one. To my ears came an eagle’s cry over the distant trees, or some hybrid of one. Pale lavender-green sky. High cirrus clouds filtering the faraway sun’s light, casting a somber glow on the stark terrain around. Must have been a chore to terraform. To each side stood rusted cranes, paint-peeled scaffolding, battered crucibles and metal bins. Air still as death. Hammering drifted our way, and the fires of forges along with men’s raucous voices. I caught the hint of movement behind the stacks and tensed.

  We were not alone for long.

  “Hey, you bozos,” a big man called, lumbering at us. He waved his arms. “You can’t land here. Get that crate of shit out of here.”

  I held up my hand. “Relax. We just have a few questions to put to the yardmaster. You the head honcho here?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  A low growl came to my left. I turned, pulse racing, as some creepy animal skulked up. I stepped back, anxious breath on my lips. The creature had a scaly hide like a lizard, smelling of a hog, but smiling through a jowl of yellow teeth. Just what we needed, some slavering, waist-high beast ready to tear chunks out of our legs. Fear would get us nowhere. I took a giant step forward, but gripping fingers hard on the trigger.

  “Easy,” the man called. “No need to get mean. Fifer ain’t going to hurt you. So long as you don’t rile her up. Or smell like cat shit.”

  I came closer, bridling my unease, knowing it would only antagonize the creature to violence. “Hey, there, Shep.” The dog-lizard came bounding over, curling its salivating lip. It whined when I offered it my hand. A rangy orange tongue came out to lick it. I patted the beast and it wagged that scaly tail. Marty threw it an old piece of a synthetic bologna sandwich he’d half finished.

  “No feeding the animals, dorkus,” the man growled. “What do you want to do, make her sick? What are you, bunch of wise-guys?”

  Marty smiled. “Whatever you say, padre.”

  “It’s Kragen to you. What do you fucks want anyways? If you’re looking to peddle product on that junker of yours, you’ve come to the wrong place. Malley over in equipment yard might look it over for trade.” He jerked a meaty thumb back behind the tin sheds. “Though that rustbucket of yours won’t get you a few k yols.” He scrunched up his eyes. “Looks like one of Sharki’s rigs. How’d you get ahold of it?”

  More bodies came out of the woodwork. Tentative expressions, surly and wary. Men holding tools, drills, ratchet-irons, chains, other implements foreign to my eyes.

  I did a quick scan. Most of these worker bees were slaves—had the blue slave tattoos branded on their necks.

  Thetis was one of those old school, backward worlds where slaves were the norm. They still used slave labor here. I recalled the planet’s history that’d rolled up on the holo index while Deidra was working it. Some space mogul had capitalized on the destruction of a few innocent worlds and victimized what he could. Brought the ‘refugees’ or captives, down with other wartorn planets’ citizens. Refuge was Thetis’s middle name, a planet of ‘salvation’, if you wanted to call it that, but in my mind, slavery was slavery.

  I nodded with enthusiasm. “What do you do here anyway?”

  “I’m crog here. We prepare quality beryl for industrial use, and other gear, like crucibles for the beryl mining operation. See those catwalks?” He pointed toward long-grated steel and railing. “Need four men to monitor the feeders underneath, make sure the sluicers are always pouring in the right mixes. One slip and we lose a batch and Jakren, our distributor, is mighty pissed.”

  I stared in curiosity at a massive crucible, fifteen feet wide, that sat on a low platform joining the first level catwalk. Two more tiers of catwalks ran above that. A chute was attached to the crucible’s top where a loader could pour raw beryl into the mouth. Hot flames licked up at the bottom of the vessel. A mix of smaller ones sat on the tarmac. Replacements? When the brew was done? All said and done, this looked like a capable, simple, but ragged ass operation.

  Marty gave a curt growl. “Thanks for the breakdown, chief, but we’re looking for a bit of slide and dive, if you have it.”

  I interjected a cough. “What we really want, Kragen, is—”

  “I don’t care what you want. Getting a funny feeling about you two. Back that rig off and let’s call it square.”

  “Wait, hear us out.”

  He scratched at his beard. “I’m listening.”

  I nodded, making appreciative motions at the machinery scattered about the yard. “Nice setup you have. Seems a little out of the way though.”

  Kragen spat out a wad of brown goo. Local product, likely harvested from the swamps. “Only a few settlements on this wet sponge of a planet. Most of the action is in Tyrone City and Narpoon Town. I like it out here, the isolation, the loneliness, it suits me. You can hear the jackdaw and swamp crake over the roar of an engine, with the howl of firrits like Fifer here thrown in.” He patted the mangy hound-lizard on the head.

  I signaled to Marty. With an irritated shrug, he turned and sauntered back to move the ship. I heard the whine of engines as he set her down in the adjacent yard. “Happy?” I grunted at the yardmaster.

  “Very.”

  Marty came loping back, looking slightly pissed, but then the hint of a shit-eating grin broke out on his face. “Heard our pigeon thrashing around, Ruskie. What a mouth on that one! Not liking it much in her birdcage.”

  Kragen’s eyebrows shot up and I scowled at Marty, resenting him for his insinuations. Even an old ox like Kragen could put two and two together.

  A skinny woman with pale brown cheeks and dust-covered curls and wearing a pair of faded blue overalls edged in. “Boss, that rig is sizeable enough for hauling stones from Jakren’s new pit over by Narpoon Lake. We could take it off their hands and get these three to work hog down on the feeders.”

  Kragen smoothed out his moustache. “Not a bad plan, Bessy, if I don’t say. Provided these fellows’ll oblige.”

  I gave a sad laugh. “You got it all wrong. See, we’re here about repairs, Kragen. We look like a couple of dopes to you? Take it off your hands...Jeez.” I grunted in cynical wonder.

  Bessy whined. “Just saying, Krag. We just got off two weeks of loader duty and I was hoping for some kickback. Jakren promised me a fat raise for good work and helpful suggestions after two years.”

  “You’ll get your bonus, Bessy. Be patient. Ain’t no raises for slaves, remember? Only perks, like extra fruit cake on Sunday. Now go feed Fifer. She’s looking mighty peckish.”

  Bessy loped away with a jaunty step. The hound bounded after her, its tongue wagging.

  “Gotta treat these workers like children,” he whispered to me. “Never get a better worker than Bessy.” He cupped his hands and called back to her, “Give her a good scrubbing while you’re at it. I see mange growing on that bac
k fur.” He turned back to us, blowing air out of his cheeks. “What were we discussing—”

  He stopped short. Several of the yardhands catcalled as Deidra came swaggering up with a venomous look and a rifle in her hands. My jaw dropped. How did she... She sauntered up to me, her face flushed and inches from mine, pissed as hell.

  I whirled on Marty. “Hey, I thought I told you to lock down the systems?”

  “Relax, Rusco.” Deidra chuckled. “Don’t blame your boy wonder. Any two bit hack could figure out how to crack that lock and override the password on the ship’s systems. It’s my ship, remember?”

  Kragen laughed. “Well, some mighty fine surprises in that tickle trunk of yours, Rusbo. Any more eye candy hiding back there? I’ll get Zeke and Harl to have a look-see.”

  I raised my rifle. “No you won’t.”

  His smile grew to an icy leer. “I might take whatever load you’re stashing there off your hands if you throw in the girl for free.”

  I stared in disbelief. “No deal.”

  Marty huffed. “Why not, Rusco? We don’t owe the girlie anything. You said so yourself she’d ram an ice pick in your ear.”

  I curled my lip. “Not how we do things around here, Marty.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a chivalrous prude.”

  Kragen warned, “If you’re carrying hot goods, Sharki’ll roast you.”

  “What are you, all a bunch of pussies?” snarled Marty. “The hold’s full of quality product. Easy for you to peddle it through your contact, Jakren.”

  Some of the yardhands stirred with interest. Kragen’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the deal. “No pussies here. How much you want? 20…30?” After some stares and glares, it looked as if a deal might go through at 22. But an inner voice yelled at me that I could get ten times that amount out in Valdair.

  One of Kragen’s grubby workhands tapped him on the shoulder. He jerked around. “Yo, boss, some idgit here to see you. Some greaser the name of Silas.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  “What now?” Kragen rolled his eyes. “Thought this was a workplace, not some drop-in joint.”

  Deidra sprang to attention. “Silas? Shit, that’s Sharki’s bounty hunter.”