“Just like a swank, taking all the credit,” Chase muttered. The fact that the other man called Danny ‘Captain’ gave him hope. “Where is my Bobsled?”
He’d kept the vehicle for years after Danny left, and when Sky stole it, it felt like she’d stolen his memories of Danny with it.
“I thought that sentence was going to end differently,” she smirked, her soft, pink lips curling into a coy smile. “Where’s my kiss?” she asked, leaning her face close to his, breathing hotly against his skin. He licked his lips, a hint of lust pushing through the trauma of being kidnapped. Then getting crushed by it.
“I have a girlfriend now,” he said, ducking his head. Two months ago, he’d met a woman in Sienna and started to rebuild his life. He had Noelle now—constant, beloved Noelle.
“Oh,” Sky pouted, her flirtatious interest retreating to one of concern. She caressed his cheek, but he could tell he’d killed her interest, and for some reason, he wanted it back. “Should I call her and let her know you’re okay? Was she there when you were taken? The Enn want to talk to you about what happened.”
“Can’t talk,” Chase said, gripping her fingers. “He’ll kill me.”
“Sikorsky?” Sky asked, pointing across the bay to a chair where the mob boss lay limp. “I’m so sorry he dragged you into this.”
Chase rubbed his arms, confused and afraid. He’d rented a hobbing machine that morning to make some specialized gears for a project. Sikorsky had offered to buy the machine outright and give it to him if he’d just come here. “I should have taken the money when I had the chance.”
“No. He should’ve known better than to bring me a prisoner,” Sky said, guiding Chase deeper into the bay. “I shot him, and if he hurts you again, I’ll shoot him until he doesn’t wake up.”
Chase bit his tongue, scanning the bay for a place to sit, and finding none, he dropped to the ground and buried his face in his hands. “Did Sikorsky bring me here because of you or because of Danny?”
Sky’s eyes dropped, a cloud of sadness descending on her angelic features. “Me.”
“What’s that look? Sky, where’s Danny? This is his ship; where is he?” Chase asked. “Did you steal his ship and leave him heartbroken?”
Sky sat cross-legged next to him, folding her hands in her lap. “Danny rescued me after I crashed the Bobsled. The ‘sled ran a good six months before that. You should be proud. I tried to get his crew home, but the ship was falling to pieces.”
“Are you saying Danny is dead?” Chase asked.
Hawk’s nostrils flared, and he climbed onto the wing of a small airplane tucked to one side in the bay, taking a swig from a shiny, silver flask.
Sky touched his hand, then scooted closer. “We were making repairs at an avalan quarry north of here. We ran into trouble with the locals. Tray was shot.”
Chase felt the blood drain from his face, but he scrambled to his feet, and strode for the door.
“Where are you going?” Sky asked, chasing after him and hopping on his back to slow him down.
“To the hospital. That’s where Tray is, right?” Chase asked, shaking her off. If Tray was there, Danny would stay with him.
“Tray isn’t in Kemah,” Hawk said. “Vimbai has him. He’s in Clover.”
Chase shifted foot-to-foot, mentally mapping the best path to the northern city.
“Chase, Danny didn’t come back with us,” Sky said quietly.
“What happened?” Chase felt the air pass his lips, but he hadn’t made a sound. He shivered, grief washing over him, followed by regret over the way he’d left things with Danny.
“Do you have a way into Clover?” Hawk asked, putting his flask away. “I need to see Tray. I keep calling, but the hospital won’t let him talk. They say he’s in surgery or in a coma. Only his family can ask after him.”
“Hawk, he was shot. He might not recover,” Sky warned, the darkness in her expression saying she feared for Tray.
Hawk slouched and drank from his flask until he’d emptied it, then stalked through the lower deck hatch.
“I’ll have the Enn take you home,” Sky offered, rubbing Chase’s back.
Chase shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “Sikorsky brought me here to fix the ship.”
“You don’t have to,” Sky said.
“I want to. For Danny,” Chase said, rubbing his chest. Hawk reappeared with a bottle of gin and a few of Danny’s teacups. He handed one of the cups to Chase and filled it half-full of gin. Chase took a sip and reeled at the strength of the proof.
“Do you have a budget for fixing the ship?” Chase asked.
“What’s a budget?” Hawk asked, handing a cup of gin to Sky then pouring more for himself.
Chase rolled his eyes. As much as he loved spending aristocrat money, he hated how little they thought before spending it.
Alex slouched on a padded bench in the back row of the church, tapping the air with his metal-encased toe. His exoskeleton was good for walking, but not so comfortable for sitting. Jennifer sauntered up to the alter, a glowing orb of incense in her hand. She approached a winged icon that also glowed, casting a blue hue on her blonde hair, catching the silver threads woven into her black robe. Alex hadn’t been in a church in decades, and while he knew spirituality was important to his wife, it had been awhile since he’d been confronted with the iconography of the religion.
Jennifer set the orb in the marble hand of the icon, then returned to her seat. The orb burned brighter, then disappeared in a puff of light, leaving the hand empty for the next person in line. The whole temple smelled of perfume, to the point where Alex wondered if he was the only one fighting back a gag.
“They’re not here,” Alex muttered, scanning hundred-seat sanctuary for the umpteenth time. The past four days, they’d been to almost every church in Kemah, Pierce, and Olcott searching for a sign from Danny.
“I told you they wouldn’t be,” Jen said, opening the front of her cloak. She wore a white tunic beneath that hugged her figure, and even after thirty years of marriage, still made Alex salivate with desire. He wondered if it was her intention to distract him. It worked for almost half a minute.
“Then why are we here?” Alex asked, opening his hand, relaxing when she took it.
“This is where the journey begins,” Jennifer said, turning his wrist so she could see the time on his Virp. “Danny and I used to talk about Sanshin. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first. We take the bread and we walk up to the temple at sunset. If we go there with no prelude, it’ll seem suspicious.”
“How far?” Alex asked.
“A good mile through the mountains,” she said. “That’s why I told you to wear your walking legs. That’s also why I told you to stay home. It’ll look suspicious—you going to the temple.”
“Someone I love is dead. I don’t think a rush to the comforting arms of every spiritual center in Quin is suspicious,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder, already antsy to make an escape.
“Go home, Alex,” Jen sighed. “If you go to the temple, you have to stay for the evening lecture. Just go.”
“You think Danny’s going to be in the mood to puff Zen and get in touch with his spirit guide?” Alex teased.
“I think he’ll be in the mood once he sees me,” she smiled. “I will call for help if I need it. Your brooding is disrupting the service. Go home.”
Alex fought back a groan, but then the congregation stirred and the service ended.
“Finally,” Alex muttered. Jennifer fumed silently and squeezed his hand until he nearly cried out, but at least they were leaving. Shaking loose from Jen’s grip, he fumbled the cloak she’d given him. Danny had left it at their house on Terrana five years ago. He’d come over after church to gripe about a fight he’d had with Tray. That evening, Jen asked Alex to become Oriana’s pilot, to keep an eye on the two brothers, mediate their fights, and be the listening ear that Danny desperately needed.
Alex felt a twinge of excitement
as they left the church, already imagining the warm reunion with his family. The street outside was filled with pedestrians and pedicabs. Alex thought about hiring a cab to take him to the gate, but then he remembered he didn’t have a job and couldn’t splurge on luxuries anymore. His eyes followed the pedicab, and then locked on a stranger across the street. The man had scraggly hair, sunburnt cheeks, and sagging, faded clothes. He looked like he’d spent the day in the dust fields, maintaining the windmills. A younger man trailed the grungy man by half a step, this one with the fine, blue vest and long gloves of a swank.
“Are we being followed?” Alex asked.
“We’re safe in the group. Keep your head down,” Jennifer warned, taking his hand to force him to keep pace.
“We don’t have anti-religious groups in Pierce. Do we?” Alex asked.
Jennifer snuck a peek at the men. “I told you, you were acting suspicious.”
Alex’s heart quickened, his mind racing through the possibilities: stalkers who had seen him on the news; a local gang who took issue with him helping Sikorsky; or worse, bounty hunters who knew he could lead them to Amanda. Giving Jen’s hand one last squeeze, he shed Danny’s cloak and handed it to her.
“Alex,” she hissed.
“First you tell me to go home. Now you want me to stay. Make up your mind,” he joked, his heart racing. He knew he couldn’t lead them to Amanda. “If they follow me home, I’ll signal you, so you’ll know not to come back.”
“Where else could I go?” she asked, her nose wrinkling in distaste. He gave her a wink, and she gave him a glower, then they let go of each other’s hands. Alex was glad that both men followed him rather than the group going to the temple.
Taking a breath, Alex paused at the corner, but now that he’d separated from the church group, the two men weren’t holding back. Alex turned to the hospital where Jen worked. He wondered if Danny would need medical attention—if he’d been injured like Tray. Danny was the type to limp around with a major wound while trying to save someone else.
The hospital entry way was bright, and as soon as Alex approached, a reception nurse hurried to intercept and make sure he wasn’t there for help.
“Just… protection,” Alex said, surveying the street. He didn’t see the two men anymore, and after about twenty minutes decided that his hope and anticipation for seeing Amanda had made him paranoid. The sun had set, Jennifer was safely on her way to the temple, and if Danny wasn’t mortally wounded, they’d probably stay for evening meditation. Alex dropped by the hospital pharmacy to pick up some basic supplies—bandages, antiseptic, painkillers, and sleep aids—then began the trek home.
The dinner rush had begun. People were either hurrying to get home, or hurrying to get out of the house.
“There he is. The useless lump,” a woman snarled, her accusation slicing the crowd. A hand gripped Alex by the shoulder and spun him around. Alex barely brought his hands up in time to block the roundhouse punch, and the force of it knocked him sideways. The grungy man from before had returned with help, and it was the fancy-glove man who’d punched him. The younger man gritted his teeth, and shook out his hand while the grungy one mocked him.
“Useless? Don’t you read the news?” Alex asked, backing away from men. And women. He counted six that appeared to be in on the attack, but what shocked him most was how invisible he seemed to everyone else on the street. Not invisible; inconvenient. People crossed to the other side of the street and looked away. A few had their Virps up, recording, but he feared it was intrigue and not defense that drove the move.
“You work the tower in Kemah, but you collect from the dole line in Pierce,” the grungy man grumbled.
“The economy’s tanking as is. There’s no money left to hand out to your kind,” fancy-gloves spat, still nursing his bruised knuckles.
Alex dropped the supplies he’d taken from the hospital. There was no way he could fight six people, even with an exoskeleton on his lower half. It would be possible to outrun them if they weren’t armed. His fingers feathered over his thigh, wishing he’d brought his pulse rifled with him.
The attack came from behind. Someone kicked the back of his knee, then screamed in pain. The exoskeleton absorbed most of the shock, and Alex kicked back, but the next person aimed higher, elbowing him in the small of his back. A third person punched his face and Alex punched back, but then someone looped a rope around his ankles and yanked him down.
“You didn’t pay for this!” a woman said, picking up the bag of supplies he’d dropped. Then she and another person yanked the rope, pulling the exoskeleton from his legs.
“Help!” Alex hollered.
The mob closed in, mocking his cry for help, and Alex saw a shovel swing in the air. The metal tip impacted the exoskeleton, and that was the only reason his bones didn’t break. He smelled alcohol and remembered Jen’s warning about the dole who was burned alive in the street. His shirt was wet with the liquid fuel. How could this happen in a crowded street?
The fancy-gloved man sparked a lighter, and the orange glow illuminated his sinister sneer. They were going to set him on fire!
11
The fire filled his vision, and Alex held his breath, bracing himself for the pain. He had burn scars from the Terranan shock-dart, but when the shock-dart attack from the Guard paralyzed his legs, it also stopped his heart. He didn’t know how long it would take to die by fire, but he didn’t imagine it was quick.
His mind was in such turmoil that he didn’t hear the stunner charge, but a moment later, four of his attackers fell to the ground. The tension on the rope around his ankles lessoned. The joints on Alex’s exoskeleton jammed, but he pressed the emergency release, and shed both the skeleton and the pants overtop, scrambling to make his escape while the mob was in confusion. The leg that had been struck by the shovel spasmed, bruised from being ripped out of the exoskeleton. He crawled on his elbows, desperation fueling his uncooperative body.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot you, too,” a calm, sinister voice said.
Alex sobbed in pain, flipping onto his back to face the new threat. His legs weren’t working, but he’d fight to the last breath. The man dressed similar to Sikorsky, wearing a full-length silver-gray coat. His beady brown eyes were set deep, and his light-brown skin glowed as if kissed by moonlight. Alex had never met Damien Coro, but he knew a boss when he saw one. Coro lowered his stunner, then looked to the brutish, black-suited man behind him.
“Kill them. Let everyone know why,” Coro ordered. “I will not allow Ketlin to incite dole killings in my town.”
Gasping, Alex scooted away again. Coro stepped over the bodies of the four stunned attackers (the rest seemed to have gotten away) and kicked the exoskeleton toward Alex.
“You’ve been visiting every Vimbai hiding place in Quin since Oriana’s return,” Coro said. “What has Vimbai smuggled into the city?”
Alex trembled in fear. This was a threat he’d expected, but he didn’t prefer it by any means. At least he’d practiced the conversation in his head once or twice while lying awake at night. “I’m not working for Tray Matthews. I’m mourning,” Alex explained, separating his pants from the exoskeleton, not sure which he’d put on next. “I was in Kemah for the decommissioning of the Cadence when Oriana arrived.”
“Oh, right. You’re a pilot.” Coro’s smile reeked of evil intent.
“On that ship, I was—am Captain,” Alex said, his voice catching in his throat.
“Do you own it outright or are you one of those lease and operate captains?” Coro asked.
Alex flinched, startled by the business tone. His imagined conversations had never brought him to that question. “I own it, but not for long,” Alex said, sliding on his pants when he realized the exoskeleton was more damaged than his leg. “The government won’t allow me to fuel the ship. My choices are to scrap it or turn it into a museum. With Oriana’s return, you can guess which hauler the public wants to tour.”
“Such narrow thinkers, these dol
es,” Coro said, speaking to an older man in a green and gold suit. The white-haired man nodded like a coconspirator, so Alex figured he was high in the ranks of the Coro crime family. They hadn’t saved his life and punished the mob for altruistic reasons. They wanted dirt on Sikorsky and vengeance on Ketlin.
“Dear Captain, I would have thought Oriana’s arrival would have fueled a slew of new options. You saw Oriana fly in the other day,” Coro said excitedly. “They came from out in the world where the smoke was rising. They converted their spaceship to an airship.”
“That still requires fuel,” Alex continued, rising to his knees. “The government controls the fueling stations.”
“Perhaps I should have let those men kill you,” Coro said flippantly. His companion snorted in agreement. Alex gasped, but rather than seeking an escape, he concocted a plan to use the exoskeleton as a weapon, knock down the white-haired man, steal the stunner, and then hobble to freedom.
“Simple-minded dole,” Coro said, his dark eyes returning to Alex. “I control the fuel. The government buys from me.”
“I have no money to buy your fuel,” Alex said, hugging the exoskeleton to his chest, pretending to use it as a crutch.
“Sell me your ship and I will keep it fueled,” Coro commanded, his eyes lifting, as though giving a public speech. “I decide where you go. I decide what you take. And who.”
“Where I go?” Alex repeated, taking a deep breath. He’d heard politicians speak like this, but not bosses. “That means you still want me to be Captain?”
Coro guffawed and slapped Alex on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “You don’t even know if we can convert the ship for air travel yet.”
“I can find out what they did to Oriana. The Cadence is a sister ship. We’ll just do what they did,” Alex said quickly.
Coro nodded, his smirk telling Alex he’d walked into a trap. “While you’re there, I need you to find out more about this woman who brought Oriana back to Quin. Sky. She has power over Sikorsky, and I need to know if she can be bought.”
The Gray Market: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 5) Page 9
