“Darius?” Darkbur ground out.
“He’s kind of busy right now,” Shaw said sweetly.
“Shaw? What the hell’s going on? Where’s Darius?”
No point in denying it at this stage. Darkbur would find out anyway. “Well, it looks like he’s going to rip the airlock door off with one of the mutant machines in the yard.”
“What?!”
She winced and reduced the volume of the comms speaker, although now only stunned silence came from Darkbur. Her gaze returned to the scene: Darius skillfully climbed to the machine’s control booth, pulled out the operator, and threw him to the ground—about fifteen feet down. Whatever Darius managed to do with the Johnson, he sure as hell wasn’t making many new friends.
“Gotta go,” she said.
Darkbur started to protest, but she cut the conversation off by switching the device to silent mode.
Darius motioned his men away from the airlock door, where they’d been futilely attempting to pry it open. Working the controls in the booth, he managed to swing the giant mechanical beast from the rubble it had been chewing through, aim it at Bechet’s ship, and begin a lumbering crawl toward its next victim. The humongous, modified whatever-the-hell-it-was didn’t move fast, but since no one was shooting at them anymore, time was on their side.
Shaw watched the crazy scene unfold. Darius was the only competent member she’d met so far of Darkbur’s group. She didn’t blame him for not completing this particular job as his boss had ordered. Bechet had proved tricky as ever. That whacko pirate had extricated himself from scrapes much bigger than this, with dozens of her fellow UNSF troops following him, so Darius needn’t beat himself up over that.
But what was really going on in that handsome skull of his? Was Darius comfortable with the idea of Gono Darkbur taking over the entire planet via his control of one much-needed drug? Was he hoping to be the ultimate ruler’s sidekick after Darkbur had turned Vox into a corrupt autocracy?
Shaw had already seen what the disease did and how many people in Bane desperately required treatment, and she assumed there were similar numbers in the other cities. If you craved power, then this was a surefire way of getting it. A tyrant like Gono Darkbur could easily assimilate this struggling backwater into whatever system of domination he already lorded over.
She’d witnessed these kinds of machinations from Larker Max. Enough to know that Darkbur’s hostile takeover wouldn’t benefit the people who lived here, or anyone outside of the crime lord’s immediate employ. It probably wouldn’t even turn out well for most of his own goons. Or Darius, for that matter.
What a waste of such a man.
But there was zero chance that Shaw would stick her neck out to change anything. Zero. She didn’t know these people. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to get off the planet and back to her own damn galaxy.
What happened here wasn’t her problem. Getting home was. Whatever it took.
Chapter 3
LILLY
The eerie stillness of the dimly lit bridge unnerved Lilly. She had never stayed so long on a dead ship before, let alone an alien one such as this, with its battered surfaces, strange textiles, and myriad utensils whose functions were a total mystery. Unidentifiable smells reclaimed the air now that the poisonous gas had dissipated.
They needed to get this boat flying. It would take at least an hour before the deputies back at the station would sense something was amiss. By then, Gono would have assembled an army to suppress anyone that came to their aid—even her entire department.
Skully and Jacer scrambled between the panels and consoles, trying to power up the ship, but with no success.
“Milo,” Lilly asked, “can you and Nate search the cargo bay? Might be some heavier weapons there.”
Better to give them an errand than have them standing around, as neither of them would likely figure out the flight mechanics.
The two men dropped the food packs they had found and approached her.
“How bad is it?” Nate asked, mid-chew.
“I’d say all that gunfire was our first clue. As in, pretty bad.”
“Yeah,” he said distractedly.
He had spotted a discarded box on the floor and bent down to retrieve it. Labeled condoms, it gave no clue to the purpose of its contents.
Lilly nodded at Milo, who tugged Nate after him into the corridor.
She turned to find the mayor pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, muttering to himself. No point in asking him to do anything.
“How about comms?” she called over to her mechanic.
“Without power, Sheriff, we got nuthin’.” Skully frowned at the control panel he was dissecting, and for the first time since she’d known the sprightly sixty-year-old, he sounded less than confident.
This, more than anything else, made her nervous.
Davis stepped onto the bridge, holding his handheld communicator aloft, somewhat theatrically.
“Let me guess,” she said.
“It’s like this ship’s armor is deflecting my signal back at me,” Davis said with a sigh. “Just creates a feedback loop.” Then, as if he felt she needed a demo, he switched it on. It unleashed an ear-piercing whine.
“Turn that thing off, you damn fool!” the mayor yelled, his palms pressed to his ears.
Davis complied.
In the silence that followed, the mayor stepped up to Lilly, nostrils flaring, his face turning a deeper shade of red. “What have you gotten me into?”
“Mayor…” Lilly said placatingly. She patted the air between them, trying to think of something to say that would calm the man.
“Some damn hit squad outside trying to kill us…” he spluttered.
“Mayor Cansen—”
“Letting killers get the upper hand on us—”
“Jett!” Lilly exploded. “If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m gonna put my fist in your face.”
Is that calming enough for you?
The mayor froze in shock, turned away brusquely, and resumed his muttering while he paced around the bridge.
“We’ll figure some way out of here,” Lilly said softly, more to herself than anyone else. “Come on, we have to. There’s got to be a way. There’s always a way. We’re just not seeing it.”
She slumped into the well-worn pilot’s seat and grappled with the main piloting controls, twisting the wheel-like contraption that Bechet apparently used to steer his ship. Pirates always had sneaky mechanisms to get their vessels moving. What were they overlooking? A secret switch? Voice control?
Heavy footsteps alerted her to Milo’s return to the bridge.
He shook his head. “They do seem to have an armory, but it’s all locked up.”
“Nate?” she asked.
“Trying to bust in.”
Lilly nodded. “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s my brother.”
Milo started laughing, then stopped himself.
The absurdity of their plight had made her feel giddy, too.
Damn you, Bechet… Well, he did leave our weapons behind.
And it was Gono’s people out there, not Bechet’s. The crime lord was making a grab for power, and what better way than to take out some of Naillik’s law enforcement, its mayor, and two representatives from the other cities in one fell swoop?
“I have been in worse situations,” Jacer said with unusual grace. “We’ll figure something out. This ship appears to be adequately secure.”
If Lilly ultimately survived this standoff, she would thank the tall, pale aflin for keeping his cool while almost everyone else had lost theirs.
“Hey, Jacer, remember that bar?” Milo asked. “In the Tarken Reaches?”
Jacer let out a rare laugh that, in human terms, actually sounded like a whine. “You idiot, Milo, you just had to take that guy’s money, didn’t you?”
“Well, he thought just because I was shorter than he was, he’d be stronger,” Milo blustered. “Easy money.”
/> Jacer laughed again. “You nearly broke his arm in the process.”
“Course, his friends didn’t think it was so funny,” Milo reminisced.
“Which made it such a daring move.”
Lilly’s gaze yo-yoed between the tall aflin and the short dworg. She’d always considered the two of them bitter rivals, forever at odds. And yet, here they were, waxing lyrical about some bar brawl they’d gotten into out in the Reaches. Well, panic did tend to have different effects on different races.
“Was nuthin’ but a thing,” Milo said with a wink.
Yup. Guess it takes certain death to see into the true depths of people.
But then Jacer’s face drew inward with shock.
“What?” Lilly asked.
“Remember back when I said this ship was secure?”
“You literally said that a minute ago,” Milo grunted.
“Shit!” Brand, who’d been quiet for a while, pointed out the front windows.
The others crowded near the young deputy, where she stood near the bow, gazing out into the scrapyard.
“What in the name of Elocin is that?” Jacer asked.
“That’s the Beast,” Skully said with a grim twist to his mouth.
“The Beast?” Lilly asked.
“A machine of my own design,” the mechanic explained.
Mayor Cansen regarded the monstrosity with bulbous eyes. “Looks like it was built—”
“To tear the shit out of things,” Lilly finished.
The enormous machine featured a monstrous set of jaws on the front that reared and dipped like a hungry mouth. It mauled through metal like ortona chips. And it wasn’t Skully’s men at the reins of the so-called Beast, it was Gono’s. They were going to gobble their way inside Bechet’s abandoned ship.
Nate rushed onto the bridge, his shoes thundering on the metal decking, and skidded to a stop when he spotted them gathered at the window. “So, I guess you saw the giant thing they’re about to use to rip the hull apart?”
Lilly nodded grimly. Her whole body had turned cold and leaden. Never had she felt so damn helpless and so sorry for the people she’d dragged into this crisis. These guys were gonna chomp through this useless, weird-as-hell craft of Bechet’s. Maybe, just maybe, they could hold them off until someone back at the station figured out that shit had gone drastically wrong. But then again, Gono’s men possessed much bigger guns—probably explosives as well—and it wouldn’t take long before everyone on the ship was dead.
All she could do now was make sure she went down fighting.
“We all need to take up positions,” she yelled.
Maybe we can take out a couple… yeah, and then…
Well, it’s not gonna end well.
Chapter 4
REMY
“Oh, my God, don’t look at me like that,” Captain Remy Bechet growled.
Dreyla’s eyes were fixed on him, huge, puppy-like, and unavoidable.
“Same for you, old man.” He frowned at Tosh, who stood by one of the rear-view displays, also throwing him tragic looks.
The ever-diminishing scene of the scrapyard below indicated that some bad shit was about to happen.
“Look,” Remy snapped, “it’s hard enough trying to fly this damn med ship without you two getting crazy-ass ideas.”
“They’re all gonna die,” Dreyla whined.
“And?” He slapped a button that had started flashing at him for no reason whatsoever.
“And we shouldn’t leave them.” Her sixteen-year-old chin tilted up in that defiant way that women used to let you know you’re scum.
“Sorry. These people cuffed me, chained me to a desk, and held me at constant gunpoint, in case you’d forgotten.”
“Yes, but they were just upholding the law. And they fed you alright, you said. Now they’ve got some kind of hit squad gunning for them.” Dreyla turned back toward the screen displaying an aerial view of the scene far down below. “It just doesn’t seem right.”
Remy rubbed his wrists, still raw from the cuffs. “We’re safe now, Drey. If we go back down there, we’re all in danger again, and that would be a very dumb move.”
They were only minutes away from leaving atmo, according to his control panel. Once out in space, Dreyla and Tosh would forget all these crazy notions, and he could focus on the real problem: getting them back to their own galaxy. Even if they didn’t forget, they’d be alive. Which was more than he could say if he turned this ship around.
“It’s my final decision,” he said, clapping his hands together.
He pressed the button for the booster thrust and added an extra load of fuel, making the ship jolt forward.
Dreyla and Tosh, still standing, had to cling to support handles for balance.
Yes, a deliberate move to distract you two.
Remy kept his eyes stubbornly glued forward.
Ah, crap.
He figured he must be getting soft in his old age.
“I swear, if we die, I’m never forgiving either of you.”
They would’ve been relentless, playing to his humanity, even though he could easily put that sensibility in check when need be.
He turned the ship around and pointed the nose downward. Naillik was already getting closer. A few minutes of his crew’s moping was all it had taken for him to change his mind. Well, that, and the damn images of dead people flooding his brain.
Not just people in general. Those people.
OK… that person.
Sheriff Greyson.
“I’m doing it for the Jay,” he said.
“Of course,” Dreyla replied, an unabashed grin on her face.
“And my music,” he continued. He’d just remembered that he’d left his main tablet on the bridge... the one that contained all of his blues tunes.
No wonder he wasn’t feeling quite right. Several days had passed since he’d heard his favorite songs.
The knockout gas that Dreyla and Tosh had dosed them all with might also have something to do with his current state.
Remy had figured out the nav controls just enough to be able to skirt the med ship along a cliff behind Skully’s Scrapyard, which offered him a clear view of the back of the holding lot. The owner had installed some kind of wall along the perimeter. The twenty-foot-tall barrier was in disrepair, but it provided enough cover to let Remy land the ship atop the cliff unnoticed.
Junk lined the bottom of the canyon on his port side. The yard owner must’ve simply dumped any worthless scrap over the rim.
Good for camouflage.
Remy guided the med ship downward. As the shudder of touchdown reverberated throughout the craft, Dreyla smiled sheepishly at him. As well she might. Could be the last time she ever had a chance to smile.
“We make this quick,” he growled.
“Yes, they probably don’t have much time,” she said.
Tosh moved towards the exit, but Remy stopped him.
“No, Tosh, you stay here and… keep the engines running.”
“But I can help, Captain,” the doc protested. “Haven’t even taken a hit in a while.”
Remy shook his head. Tosh wouldn’t be able to keep up with them.
End of story.
A minute later, he and Dreyla crept into the salvage yard through one of the large cracks in the wall, snuck up to the rear of the Jay, and crawled underneath her battered belly. It felt like one of their heists, albeit an extra dangerous one. Both of them lay on their backs now, trying to pry open an access panel that Remy had installed a few years ago. Just in case.
The panel dropped with a clang.
He exchanged a look with Dreyla.
Shit. Had they heard?
Dreyla cocked her head at the enormous machine that Darkbur’s men were using to tear open the Jay. Up close, the monstrous jaws gnashed at the ship’s hull on her starboard side. If Remy didn’t do something soon, it would rip through the airlock.
“Mother of…” he groaned.
“Let’s
go.” Dreyla was already crawling up into the narrow duct, wiggling her way inside.
Remy followed her, making similar movements but with slower progress due to his size.
“How the hell is that dwarf gonna fit in here?” he muttered, switching on a handheld light in one hand and gripping his pistol in the other.
“He is one, isn’t he?” Dreyla asked, her voice muffled in the tight space. “I’d heard there were dwarves and elves on Earth, but I’ve obviously never seen one.”
“Sure you have—Dawkins.”
“Dawkins, on Captain Downey’s crew?”
“Uh huh.”
They kept crawling. Remy hadn’t been inside the access duct since installing it, so he hadn’t realized it would be so filthy, slick with grease and grime everywhere he laid his hands. In addition, the air was hot, stifling, and completely stale.
Lucky to have any oxygen in here at all.
“I always thought he was just short,” Dreyla said.
“Saw him lift about five hundred pounds once… barely broke a sweat.”
With his light, Remy could see the end of the duct, which led to the rear of the cargo bay. Hopefully, nobody would be there, trigger-happy and such, ready to shoot them as they exited the narrow crawlspace.
“Take it easy,” he said. “We’re trying to be sneaky.”
She twisted her head backward and shot him an I-know-what-I’m-doing look. Then she turned forward, promptly pushed out the panel covering the exit, and sent it clanging to the metal floor of the cargo bay.
He winced. Thanks to her noisy entrance, the sheriff or someone else might’ve discovered them—if not for Darkbur’s animals outside, still ripping the ship into shreds.
Dreyla squeezed herself from the duct and landed softly on her feet. Remy inched toward the opening, light still in one hand, pistol in the other.
“Come out to Vox,” he said, smirking. “We’ll get together, have a few laughs.”
Dreyla flashed a blank stare his way. She never got his references—or his jokes.
Course, it’s not really a time for either.
His feet landed deftly on the floor. A wave of contentment overcame him. He was back on his ship, surrounded by familiar walls and objects. Good to be home again, even if she had no power.
Galactic Blues - Box Set Episodes 4-6: A Newton's Gate Space Opera Adventure (Galactic Blues Box Set Book 2) Page 9
