Galactic Blues - Box Set Episodes 4-6: A Newton's Gate Space Opera Adventure (Galactic Blues Box Set Book 2)

by C. J. Clemens

  “I don’t know, Commander, this is all kinds of messed up. I mean, this guy’s—” Jibs said in rapid bursts.

  “A piece of shit,” Zain cut in. “The commander knows that, Jibs, but right now, we have no choice.”

  Zain wasn’t her number one for no reason. Not only an excellent pilot, he was almost as quick on the uptake as she was, which made him about four times as smart as anyone else—and actually tolerable. Jibs, on the other hand, might find himself looking for a new team if they ever managed to return alive to HQ.

  “We go along with this until we can get ourselves a ship and get the hell off this backwater planet,” she hissed, fixing Jibs with a glare.

  Darkbur sauntered back to her little trio, his confident stride pissing her off before he even spoke. “Darius here will be doing some surveillance for me. I want to know everything that’s going on.”

  She nodded at the tallest, swarthiest, and brawniest of the guards, whose eyes seemed as heartless as stone. Not the type you’d want to meet in a dark, lonely alley. What Darkbur had clearly meant to say was, Darius is going to watch things and figure out when and where we can take these people out.

  She’d go along with the plan. Having Bechet dead would be a bonus, but more than anything, she needed to buy some time while finding a way for her and her crew to return to their own galaxy. Or universe. She still wasn’t exactly sure where the freaking portal had tossed them out. It wasn’t as if she’d had time alone in a quiet library to study up on the regional geography and ponder her more nebulous location in space-time reality. No, her days had been kinda busy.

  But one thing was sure: Gono Darkbur wielded the kind of power that might help her get back to where she belonged. So, she would stick around and stay in his good books… for now.

  In the distance, a gray vessel flew toward them, carrying a smaller, whitish craft.

  “What’s that?” she snapped.

  “That?” Darkbur cast a glance at the craft. “Looks like the med ship. One of the local scrapyards must have already claimed rights.”

  “Or, the sheriff is having it hauled in as evidence for her investigation?” Shaw ventured.

  Darkbur’s lip curled in a sneer. “She’s just an incompetent fill-in. Her husband used to be sheriff. After he shuffled off the stage, she was elected. Nothing but the sympathy vote.”

  Shaw bristled. People like Darkbur and Larker Max always underestimated women. Of course he’d dismiss Sheriff Greyson without a second thought. Similar to what he was doing with Shaw herself.

  She smiled inwardly. In her world, that was exactly the kind of careless thinking that got people killed.

  Fine with me, as long as they’re the right people.

  Chapter 2

  DREYLA

  Dreyla, Tosh, and Mosi had been tramping through the hot, sandy outskirts of town for what seemed like days, though it had actually been less than an hour. Suddenly, something snagged Dreyla’s attention.

  “Tosh!” She jostled his arm. “That’s it, look, that’s the ship!”

  Tosh’s blank stare said it all. He had no idea what she was raving about.

  “The ship? The med ship?” She pointed to the sky.

  Tosh and Mosi traced her finger upward, toward a strange vessel flying above them. Technically, two vessels clamped together. The med ship in question dangled beneath a much larger craft—bulky and grayish, with extended supports reaching below its ill-fated cargo.

  “Oh. That’s Skully’s wrecker,” Mosi said, wiping sweat off her brow. “He runs the largest yard in this region.”

  Dreyla wasn’t sure what she meant, but she could hazard a guess.

  “They fix every sort of vehicle, from two-wheeled sand riders to bona-fide spaceships,” Mosi continued. “He also has the contract with the sheriff’s office. Kind of a favorite of hers cuz he gets the job done. He’s probably hauling that ship in for her.”

  “Then we should follow it,” Dreyla said.

  Tosh tilted his head from side to side, pursing his lips.

  “The Jay might be there,” she insisted. “They might’ve hauled her in, too.”

  “Yeah, no,” Mosi said, raising her palms in front of her. “I gotta ditch you guys if you’re going there. Half the time there’s some dumbass deputy hanging around, waiting for Skully to fix his ride.”

  So, was this it? Would Dreyla lose her ally as suddenly as she’d found her?

  Mosi was right. Why risk entanglements with the sheriff’s people unless you needed to do something really stupid, like try to rescue your ship—and save your father, who might be dead for all you knew?

  Dreyla cleared her throat. “Mosi, uh, thanks for all your help.” The words seemed so inadequate for the intense hours they’d just shared. Her respect for the big girl had only grown in that time.

  “You’re alright, Drey. Stay free, sister.”

  Mosi gave her a thumbs-up, and with a flick of her blue-and-purple hair, stepped away. Pulling a hood over her distinctive head, she merged into the crowd and disappeared.

  Dreyla’s throat tightened.

  “Maybe the punker girl’s got a point,” Tosh mumbled. “Maybe we shouldn’t go there either.”

  Swallowing her annoyance at the doc, Dreyla trudged ahead and fixed her gaze on the spot where the wrecker was lowering the med ship. Several blocks later, near the edge of town, she spotted Skully’s Scrapyard—and the biggest vessel in it, sitting beside the newly-delivered med ship, was the R.L. Johnson. Her heart filled with sudden lightness.

  “Told ya,” she whispered.

  Tosh nodded his head rapidly, life starting to reappear in his eyes.

  “You ready for this?” she asked.

  “All guns firing.” He patted his recently-acquired hospital security outfit, which included a belt that held a flashlight and some kind of weird stun gun.

  People milled around the street and along the sidewalks, shuffling in both directions. As Dreyla lingered in front of the scrapyard, she spotted at least one sheriff’s deputy and prayed he wouldn’t notice her and her “psycho” companion. Her gaze drifted to the opposite side of the road, where she got her first real taste of Naillik’s diversity.

  Dwarves and elves walked among the human residents, plus a fair number of fully artificial humans, which Remy stupidly called robots. Between the varied inhabitants and the common language, it was bizarre how much this planet resembled Earth—at least according to Remy. She’d actually never been to her captain’s home world.

  Given all the activity, she and Tosh easily slipped into the holding yard unnoticed. As Mosi had described, numerous junker ships and vehicles of all sorts surrounded them. Perfect for hiding two fugitives.

  At closer range, the poor Jay looked dead. No lights were on; the emergency batteries were probably out of juice. Dreyla unclipped the flashlight from Tosh’s belt and flipped the switch. At least it was working.

  She and Tosh looped around the ship to the starboard side, where she removed a small, nondescript panel from the wall next to the airlock. She shone her light inside the compartment and swiveled it from side to side.

  “What are you doing?” Tosh asked, glancing around feverishly.

  “Since there’s no power, I have to manually release the door. I’m looking for the hydraulics.” Her fingers grappled the oily surfaces as she tried to remember exactly how it was laid out. Someone should really clean up this ship someday. “Ah, wait, here it is.”

  Her fingers closed around the familiar O-shape of a hydraulic valve. The outer door slowly descended, its grating sound luckily drowned out by the shouts and machinery inside the scrapyard and on the nearby street.

  “Hurry up and get inside,” she urged.

  She turned the flashlight off and scurried up the ramp. Hopefully, nobody would notice the door was down.

  “Isn’t that going to be obvious?” Tosh pointed at the door, having spoken her fears aloud.

  “Yeah. Wait one tiny moment.”

  She da
shed through the open inner doorway and down to the engine room, found the control box to the emergency backup, and connected the circuit. The glorious hum of the emergency equipment springing back to life rewarded her efforts. She bounded back to Tosh at the outer door and hit the retract button. The door began its slow but steady ascent.

  He gaped at her.

  “Nice, huh?” she asked.

  “I won’t ask how.”

  She wiped her oily fingers on her thigh. “I set up a backup to the backup. Last year, when we were doing those repairs. It’ll keep a few lights functioning... for a little while anyway.”

  The door finally closed all the way, resealing itself with a reassuring thud.

  “So, what now?” Tosh asked.

  “Well.” She let out a long sigh. “I could use some help trying to figure out why the Jay lost power to her main generators.”

  “Sure, but let me make a pit stop first,” Tosh said.

  He wandered off in the direction of his medbay. Probably to get some real dope, since the stuff the hospital staff had pumped into his veins was some weak-ass shit—at least for someone like him. What could she do but let him go? The old doc was who he was. Too late to change that. Though it would be nice to have a more reliable companion in this life-and-death quest, Tosh had an uncanny ability to come to the fore when the situation really demanded it.

  That situation would no doubt arise very soon. The minute they broke into the jail to spring Remy.

  Chapter 3

  LILLY

  Sheriff Lilly Greyson stood outside the police station, checking her vehicle’s power supply.

  Deputy Potter jogged up. “Sheriff, you have a visitor.”

  She snapped the control panel shut. “No, no, Potter. You handle it. My agenda’s full. What with these escaped girls from the JDC and the med heist—”

  “It—it’s your brother.”

  Lilly groaned and remote-locked all the vehicles as she headed inside.

  “You’ve got some nerve coming around here,” she said, stepping into the reception area where Nate slouched against the refreshment counter. “What do you even want?”

  Nate’s gaze flicked toward Deputy Davis in a way that made it clear this visit had been prearranged. She took a step back, frowning at each of them.

  “Uh, didn’t come to see you, Sis,” Nate said.

  “What in the name of Zog are you two up to?” Lilly mentally ripped up Davis’s employment contract and scattered the pieces in an imaginary sandstorm.

  Now Davis had produced his tablet. This was the last straw.

  She stepped closer and wrenched it from his hands. “Why are you all looking through the impound?” Mystification had clouded her ability to think.

  She swung back to Nate and waved the device under his nose. “Well? Answer me!”

  Nate held up his palms in a don’t-shoot position. “I wanted to know who had the salvage rights to the ship Skully’s people hauled in.”

  Lilly shook her head in disgust. It took her a moment to get her tongue around the words. Yes, she was being hysterical, and no, it wasn’t a good look, but damn.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she screeched. “A bunch of people were killed in that ship and you come here to put in a claim for salvage rights? You’d exploit even this situation?”

  Nate’s forehead creased in confusion—an expression mirrored by Davis.

  “Uh, not the med ship,” Nate said slowly. His voice was all hurt innocence—a tone she’d borne most of her life.

  “What then?” She zipped through the impound inventory—a fast blur of images of ships and vehicles.

  Nate moved in closer, peering over her shoulder. Eventually, he reached around and planted his finger on the screen. She stopped scrolling.

  “There,” he said. “That huge ship they brought in before going after the med ship.”

  She peered closer at the image and scanned through the listing for details. Zero power, unusual design, damaged underbody from a hard impact.

  “This is… Bechet’s ship,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Who?” Nate asked.

  “Captain Remy Bechet… He claimed that he crashed his ship… Well, actually, he’s claimed a lot more than that,” she burst out. “Oh, never mind.”

  Her feet were already on the move toward the cells. Davis scurried behind her, and Milo and Jacer, appearing from somewhere, slipped in beside them.

  Lilly stopped at the heavy-duty door leading to the prisoner holding section.

  “Next time, Davis, that you decide to give my brother information, kindly either be smart enough to get away with it without me finding out, or just come tell me. And I’d strongly prefer the latter. Get caught again, and I’m going to kick your ass and then fire you. Understand?”

  Davis hung his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  While she might consider kicking his ass, she’d wouldn’t really fire Davis. She knew how persuasive her little brother could be, and she also knew how poorly the town of Naillik paid her people. She’d always assumed her deputies earned a little on the side; she just didn’t want any of them really crossing the line. Tiptoeing along it was fine, crossing it was crossing her, and that was unreasonably stupid and unacceptable.

  She, Milo, and Jacer approached Captain Bechet’s cell. The man was gazing out the window, having clearly just completed some kind of physical workout. The powerful shoulder muscles he’d hitherto kept hidden under that dark black-and-brown shirt of his glistened with sweat.

  She kicked the bars to get his attention. His face scowled at the interruption but lightened when he noticed her. After she twisted the tablet so he could see the displayed image, he bounded across the cell.

  “That’s the Jay…” he said, jabbing his finger through the bars. “That’s my ship.”

  Lilly flinched at the directness of his gaze and the hope emanating off him in waves. A pungent, masculine smell emanated from him, too, which abruptly reminded her of Tim.

  Snap out of it, dammit.

  “OK, so maybe that part of the story checks out,” she said, as coolly as possible, then shifted her focus to Milo.

  “Sheriff, I’m telling you, I’m not from around here,” Bechet insisted. “Like really not from around here.”

  Milo glanced at the description beside the image. “The listing does seem to fit his story,” he mused.

  “It doesn’t prove his crazy story at all,” Jacer whined, his slender nose crinkling from either Bechet’s body odor or his fishy tale. “He could just as easily be from Bane.”

  Lilly took another look at the image of the ship—a damaged thing of awkward beauty. A survivor, and possibly a fish out of water. It felt like a metaphor for herself.

  “I’ve never seen a ship like that,” Milo admitted.

  “I’m telling you, take me to my ship, and I can prove the rest of my story.” Bechet’s fists clenched around the bars, as if his sense of conviction could bend them.

  A flicker on the screen indicated a recent update to the listings. Aware that everyone was looking at the screen as well, she scrolled to the new information. Turned out that Skully had also brought in the med ship. Good old Skully.

  Lilly raised her eyes to meet Bechet’s. “I need to check out that med ship again, so we might as well have a look at that ship of yours while we’re at it.”

  His straight-on gaze challenged her, as if he could see right through her. There weren’t too many men who held eye contact with her like this. It tended to be only the crazy people that didn’t know she could kick the crap out of them.

  She hit the comms button on the opposite wall. “Skully, I’m bringing you a party. So, look sharp.”

  “Ya wha?” Skully’s insolent voice came over the comms.

  Lilly noticed the captain’s lip curl up into a knowing smile. The next second, it was gone.

  “We’re heading to the yard to see the med ship, and that other vessel… the ugly one.” She flashed Bechet a small, wicked grin
of her own. She couldn’t help it.

  “No prob, Sheriff.”

  But Skully sounded terribly disappointed. He must have been hoping to claim the salvage rights himself, even though, strictly speaking, they were supposed to go to the highest bidder. Not that anything on this planet ever happened according to strictly speaking.

  “Be there soon,” Lilly said.

  Chapter 4

  REMY

  There was no way to get comfortable. The handcuffs digging into Remy’s wrists behind his back made sure of that. And each time the transport vehicle hit a bump, his wrists and arms hurt even more. His grazed skin would break soon. He sat forward in a rigidly upright position, his shoulders twisted backward, and wished they’d get to the salvage yard already.

  Sheriff Greyson, at the wheel, drove on, oblivious to his discomfort or, more likely, relishing it. She’d been the one to cuff him, even though a bunch of her deputies had been standing around, doing nothing. Those cool, smooth fingers of hers had set his restraints to an extra-tight setting just to make his day worse.

  He couldn’t get a handle on her. One minute, she’d gaze at him with a faraway expression in her eyes, soft and vulnerable, making his heart quicken, then the next, she’d snap and do something bitchy to him.

  Damn that woman anyway.

  But seeing the Jay again would be worth all this aggravation. Something, at last, that rooted him to his past and proved he even had one. Because he had begun to feel discombobulated, as if he were in some kind of a dream or alternate reality. And he hadn’t completely ruled that out just yet.

  One of the sheriff’s older deputies sat on Remy’s right, but on his left was a guy who, judging by the argument in the parking lot, was the sheriff’s brother. It had turned into quite the family drama, with Nate’s repeated demands to join the field trip to the scrapyard and his sister’s staunch refusal to let him even near the transport vehicle. Sheriff Greyson had only relented to his tagging along when the dwarf and elf guy got a bit too restless.