Hell's Reach (Galactic Liberation Series Book 6)

by B. V. Larson

  He set the autopilot and comlinked Jilani. “So what’s this about?”

  “You heard about the Hercules being taken? With Engels aboard?”

  “Sure, but I’m not cancelling training over one ship, even for Engels.”

  “You mean Straker ordered you not to. I know you offered.”

  “Okay, yeah, of course I offered, but he said he’d handle it.”

  “Well, they just transited out. That’s why I’m calling you.”

  Loco chuckled with realization. “Because now they’re not around to countermand whatever you’re planning.”

  “I like a man who thinks like I think. I think.”

  “This week you think you like that man. Might be nice to know what you think all the time.”

  “What, and ruin my air of mystery?” she laughed. “How about we talk about ‘us’ later... We’ll have plenty of time to chat if you’re half the man I think you are.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  “Good. Just hear me out when you get here.”

  “You know I will.”

  “Jilani out.”

  Half angry, half amused, Loco restrained himself from punching the comlink panel. Instead, he took the aircar off autopilot and burned off some of his irritation by skimming low over the surface, shaving the tops of trees so close the fans chopped the leaves and twigs from the tallest branches. His HUD showed him a network of canyons on the way, so he plunged into one of them, twisting and turning among the rock formations in a fugue of concentration.

  By the time he landed at the ops center he’d worked off his steam and put on a bland face. It was bad enough that Chiara could wrap him around her finger, but he didn’t have to let it show in public.

  She met him at the door, wearing what he thought of as her rogue trader outfit—knee-high boots, skintight black leggings and belted jacket, overlaid with a harness festooned with pouches, holsters and scabbards.

  “You’re ready to go,” Loco said, running his eyes over her. “Lady Mayor not your style anymore?”

  She turned and led him down a hall. “I find this outfit gets a lot more Breaker cooperation than a politician’s beige designer pantsuit. Even so, I’ve been twisting the supply officer’s arm for the last hour—and failing. Besides, I never wanted to be the Lady Mayor any more than Straker wanted to be the Prime Minister of the Republic. I just wanted to get my people on the right track and keep them safe.”

  “So what do you want to be?”

  “Free. Back aboard Cassiel, killing bad guys and rescuing the innocent—captain of my own destiny.” She stopped in front of the logistics office. “But to do that, I need supplies.”

  Loco chuckled. “Here we go again.”

  She stepped close to him. “And I need you, too. I want you to come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “To find and free Engels and our people. The crew of the Hercules. We can’t allow anyone to take our people prisoner.”

  “Or kill them.”

  “I hope it didn’t go that way—and it probably didn’t. Skilled people are usually too valuable to kill. We should go find them.”

  “That’s not our job. Straker’s hunting them down.”

  Jilani hissed in exasperation. “Since when did you become such a stickler for orders? He’s heading to pick up the trail from where it happened. He’ll try to chase them from there, like a dog following a scent. That’s fine, but the Arattak and Korven will expect that approach. You and me, we’ll work from the other end.”

  “What other end?”

  “You’ll see.” Jilani pushed open the office door. Inside, supply clerks did what they’d done since the invention of writing—they sat at their desks and wrote reports.

  “General!” the nearest troop cried, startled and popping to her feet when she caught sight of Loco. “I’ll tell the colonel you’re here, sir.”

  Colonel Keller was already standing when Loco entered her office. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  Jilani closed the door behind them as the two Breakers shook hands. “We need supplies for a mission,” Loco said.

  Keller glanced at Jilani. “A military mission?”

  “Let’s call it... paramilitary.”

  “And under what line of the budget should I record it?”

  Loco rolled his eyes. “That’s your job, Colonel. You must have some flexibility somewhere. Figure out how to make it work.”

  Keller grimaced. “You have a list of what you need?”

  Jilani fished in a pocket and handed Keller a sheet of—yes—real paper, of local make.

  Keller took it as if it might bite and looked down her nose at it for a long moment. “Hm. Hm-hmm... Yes, we can do most of this... ” Then she stopped and glared at Jilani with suspicion. “Two hundred liters of pure Erbaccia extract? Outrageous. That’s a month’s production. Millions of credits-worth.”

  “Grown by the townspeople,” Jilani retorted.

  “Processed by Breaker staff for medical use or trade.”

  “Which is what we need it for. Trade. Possibly to trade for our people when we find them.”

  Keller turned to Loco. “General, this is highly irregular.”

  Loco regretted not talking this over in detail with Jilani beforehand. The woman had a way of leading him by the nose—and a tendency to rush things, obviously to increase the chance of getting her way. “Will it cause hardship to take it?”

  “Not medical hardship, but it was programmed for sale, so it’s money lost. Twenty million, more or less. That means delayed maintenance, or less ammunition, or slower construction... Every credit matters now, General. Or at least every million.”

  Loco could simply order it done, as he was in charge right now, but there’d be hell to pay later. Much better to persuade and get Keller on his side... “This is for a separate mission to track and rescue the Hercules personnel. It’s always been Breaker law that we never abandon our own—that we send twenty to rescue one if we have to. Or twenty million. I’m sorry to disrupt your plans, but don’t you think this is top priority?”

  “That’s all very clever, General, but numbers don’t lie. Half our military equipment is inoperative for lack of spare parts or the skilled labor to maintain it. Every time we divert resources from Peter to pay Paul, we lose double. The machine of our economy sputters. Hard work is wasted. Readiness suffers. And... ” Her eyes flicked at Jilani.

  Loco understood the unspoken—Keller thought Jilani, with her flamboyant ways and shady past, might be skimming—or even stealing. At the least she was unduly influencing the boss for personal reasons.

  He put on his most earnest expression. “Monika, we have to find out what tech they used to ambush us. That knowledge could be life or death for Breaker trade. We have to get our people back.” He tapped the paper in Keller’s hand. “So, use your best judgment and fill as much of that list as you can within the next three hours. I’ll sign for it. I’ll be responsible. Deliver it to the Cassiel sloop.”

  Keller let out a long breath. “Yes, sir,” she said, snapping her heels together and saluting stiffly. “Now you shall excuse me.”

  Loco returned the salute and left, Jilani at his heels.

  “See?” she said as she followed him out of the building and toward the airfield where the Cassiel was parked. “No problem. Sure wish the leading citizens of my town would take orders like that.”

  “Orders like that have a price I’d rather not pay.”

  “What price?”

  “It’s one thing to kick someone else’s bureaucrat in the ass to get what you need. It’s different when it’s your own. Breeds resentment.”

  “All the more reason for us to get the hell out of here and into the Reach again, live on our wits. No more of this confining bean-counter crap.”

  “You know, I think I’m beginning to believe in your God.”

  “Good for you, Mikey! Why’s that?”

  “Because he’s obviously laughing his ass o
ff at the way you’re acting just like I used to, and here I am feeling like Derek did. God’s enjoying the irony.”

  She jumped in front of him and put a hand on his chest. “Loco, seriously. The Breakers are pros. They have competent leaders. They’ll do fine without you for a while—but I won’t. I need you with me, and two shady free traders can go places a bunch of obvious military types can’t. I thought you were the perfect man for the job. I know I am.”

  Loco wrapped his arms around her leather-jacketed waist and pulled her close. Her curves fit him nicely as he lifted her onto her toes to kiss her deeply. “If you’re a man, I need to get my eyes fixed.”

  She wiggled against him. “Are we going to do this or not?”

  “Silly question from a silly girl. I handled Keller for you, didn’t I?”

  “For us, Mikey. For our people. There was a townie kid on the Hercules—a new recruit spacer. He’s a cousin of mine, Lorenzo Alfonsi. His family came to plead with me. That’s the way it’s done in Paradiso.”

  “So this is personal? I didn’t know.”

  “When your entire world is one town and one military unit, everything’s personal. Everything.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it. One thing, though.”

  “What?”

  “You get the Bug. No arguments. Every fighting regular in the Breaker’s has already been enhanced with it. If you and I are going to be a team, I need you to be able to keep up.”

  She pulled her head back, and she looked into his eyes. For a moment he thought she would argue, but then she sighed. “All right.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay, I said!”

  “Then get your fine ass over to the infirmary. I’ll meet you at the ship.”

  * * *

  The liftoff and climb through the atmosphere of Utopia made an odd contrast with the usual planetary departure. Loco took the opportunity to gawk as Paradiso and the landscape faded below the thin layer of atmosphere lining the inside surface of the narrow cylinder. Soon, the Cassiel flew through inner space, surrounded on all sides by the massive Dyson construct.

  Up, up toward the mini-star that provided light and heat Jilani steered, angling slowly toward the hub on the side-wall. There, she carefully slowed and floated the stubby, bird-shaped ship down the axial tube, using impellers only with a deft touch, almost brushing the sides.

  She guided the ship with a deft touch, almost brushing the walls. They were made with a nearly indestructible material, a carbon-structured alloy which the brainiacs were still analyzing. If the Breakers could learn to manufacture it, they might be sitting on a goldmine—but as yet, the technology had eluded them.

  Money, money, money, Loco mused. Get enough capital together and you could do anything. The Hundred Worlds had used and misused money. The Mutuality had attempted without success to eradicate it. But here, in the Middle Reach, they worshipped it.

  They also fought over it and stole it and did anything they could to generate it. He could see why the Fugjios Conglomerate, the only thing that passed for an interstellar government out here, considered outright theft to be a high crime... if it could be proven, and if they considered it within the jurisdiction of their holy Regulations.

  He activated the comlink to the Independence, floating outside Utopia. “Indy?”

  “Indy here.”

  “What’s it take to file a complaint or lawsuit against someone in Conglomerate court?”

  “There are no courts—not exactly. They have a process to adjudicate breaches of contracts—they call this process arbitration.”

  “How does it work?”

  “The process is straightforward. If you’re referring to the Hercules incident, I’ve already dispatched a message drone to Crossroads with all the pertinent evidence, along with a notification that the Breakers will seek direct redress by appropriate use of force.”

  “We’ve told the Conglomerate we’re going to war, then?”

  “We want to highlight our compliance with the Regulations.”

  Loco chuckled. “Is what we’re doing in line with their Regulations? Chiara and me, I mean.”

  “Not entirely. But Paradiso citizens are not registered with the Conglomerate the way the Breakers Corporation is... and I took the liberty of discharging you from the Breakers, effective immediately.”

  “Ha!” Chiara burst out, grinning. “No more General this and General that: sir, yes sir! And since I’m captain of this ship, that makes you my crew, Mikey.”

  “It also means neither of you have any legal standing,” Indy said. “It’s a double-edged sword.”

  “I’m used to it. Loco will get used to it, too.” She leaned across the cockpit to slap Loco on the shoulder. “We’re outlaws again! Woo-hoo!”

  Loco chewed on that for a minute, and then put his boots up on the dashboard. “Cool. Thanks, Indy.”

  “Don’t mention it, Mister Paloco. Good luck to you both. Indy out.”

  “Here we go,” Chiara said. “Transit in three, two, one, mark.” The viewports blanked, and she closed them, then stood up to stretch, unzipping her jacket and tossing it onto the seat. “Come on, lover boy. Let’s turn down the gravity and try out my new bedsheets.”

  “The bedsheets seem fine,” Loco said, lying sweaty beside Chiara in the tiny cabin, one of only two on the free trader sloop. “Now that we’ve burned off some energy, you wanna tell me where we’re going? Your crew wants to know.”

  She sucked on a smokestick with a mild stim formula loaded. “The Rainbow Contractors market. Biggest one in the Middle Reach, run by the Color Mobs.”

  “Color Mobs... like that Yellow Foot Mob you worked for?”

  “Yeah. The Color Mobs are some of the less-evil crimorgs—they have codes of honor, they’re relatively dependable... and they don’t allow zombies at their Contractors markets.”

  Loco snorted. “Criminals with a conscience?”

  “People always have their moral boundaries, Mike. As long as they stay on one side, they think they’re okay. Like the bossman and you, and me—different lines, different boundaries. Doesn’t make them bad people.”

  “Then why is this market run by criminals? What exactly is it a market for?”

  “Almost anything, but the main thing it’s for is trading Contracts and Contractors—mostly Indentured Contractors. Ironclad.”

  “Sounds like slavery.”

  “Not quite... but it’s not always pretty. Under Conglomerate law, people are free to sell their Contracts for anything they want. Sometimes, they sell their own Contracts to pay their debts. Once the Contract is made, they have to follow it—even if it’s a nasty deal. And prostitution is legal, so... the Conglomerate figures if you make a bed, you can lie in it.”

  “And this is okay with you?”

  Chiara shrugged. “There’s lots of things out here I’m not okay with, but I try not to judge too harshly. I’ve known Contract Managers who treat their ICs better than some do-gooders treat their own children. Your bossman’s big on liberation, but he sees everything in black and white. There’s a lotta gray out there, and it’s where I live. I thought maybe you lived there too, but you’ve got a bigger self-righteous streak in you than I thought at first.”

  “Maybe I do. So?”

  “So you better put that shit aside when we get out into the real world. Bandage up your bleeding heart and be ready to fight for what we need.”

  “I’ve done that my whole life.”

  “But now it’s personal?” she asked.

  “It felt personal when people were trying to kill me.”

  “Not the same,” she said. “You’re military. That’s part of the job. How about when Ramirez started her own little people-market on Freiheit… or when Karst kidnapped Carla? How did you feel then?”

  “Same as you—pissed off,” he said.

  Chiara nodded. “Good enough. Keep that feeling hot, and we’ll be all right.” She put out the stick, and the cabin filled with starlight from a tiny portho
le.

  Loco turned the conversation over in his mind for about a minute.

  Chiara made a sound of frustration and pulled his face toward hers. She kissed him, hard. “Do I have to do everything?”

  Laughing, he grabbed her, and they made passionate love.

  Chapter 3

  Aboard the SBS Redwolf, approaching the Humbar system.

  “So you’re sure our generators can take it?” Mara asked Zaxby for the fourth time from the Sensors station of the sloop’s circular control room. This newly expanded space combined the functions of a bridge and observation lounge. Every part of the wall, overhead and deck not occupied by fittings—keyboards, pickups and so on—was a holoscreen. The arrangement gave the impression of being on a raised quarterdeck, with visibility all around—the ancient “flying saucer” setup. It provided the illusion of standing in the open, looking out into space.

  Right now, the screens showed nothing but blank gray sidespace.

  Zaxby’s reply was uncharacteristically patient. “I’ve done everything I can to reduce the likelihood of an incident, Mara Straker. I estimate the odds at one in eleven thousand of not arriving where we wish. But even so, consider this: if we are thrown across the galaxy, even the universe, what wonders might we experience? What adventures might we have?”

  Mara’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “If we end up in Andromeda, looking back at the Milky Way, you’re going out the airlock.”

  “I hardly think that’s fair. However... ” Zaxby reached deliberately toward his console and caressed a holo-input in a complex motion. “There. Put your mind at ease. I’ve set the ship to self-destruct if we arrive anywhere but the Humbar system.”

  “What?”

  “He’s kidding,” Steiner rumbled from where he stood, arms crossed and staring out through the transparent duralloy.

  “Yes, I’m kidding, silly primates,” Zaxby said with a practiced grin. “Here goes nothing.” He tapped a control with a tentacle-tip.

  The usual sense of sideways motion increased, shifted, then shifted again. Mara felt as if she was being wrenched in several directions at once... but then the sensation passed. The screens flashed briefly with stars before the chill of underspace took hold and the impellers thrummed. The SAI had been set to dive into underspace and change course as soon as the ship emerged.