The Speedbird rolled around towards the rear of the StarDestroyer as I maintained a steep combat radius turn. The StarDestroyer captain realised that I was close to obtaining a firing position and tried to break away in a negative axis dive, but that just made it easier for me to obtain a lock. I released some torpedoes in the general direction of the fleeing StarDestroyer, and then held a constant course. The Speedbird was already close to VH, the speed at which I could transition to hyperspace and escape the system. The hyperdrive select switch was under my hand, and as the Speedbird reached transition velocity, I hit the switch and we were safe.
“Well done, Captain!” exclaimed Rosto.
“That’s Colonel, now, if you don’t mind.”
“Pierre,” ordered Rosto. “Go and make us all coffee. Especially our brave rescuer here.”
“Black, no sugar,” I said as I concluded the VH transition flight checks.
“What destination did you set?” asked Rosto.
“I chose an uninhabited star system about three hour’s flight time away. I guessed that would let me get us away without being followed and then let me see where the three convicted criminals wanted to go.”
“And not execute them?”
“Don’t be silly. You know me, Rosto. I couldn’t just kill anyone like that.”
“No, Frank, you couldn’t, could you?” He seemed to treat it as a criticism while I found it a compliment. “Here are some fresh coordinates. Put these into the navcomm, and we’ll head for there as soon as we emerge from this hyperspace journey.” Rosto passed me a slip of paper with a set of galactic coordinates written neatly on it.
“Where’s this?”
“You’ve been there before. It’s Refuge. I’ve left a ship there, and these two can come with me.”
Rosto was about to leave the flight deck, when I reached out and stopped him. “Why were you playing at pirates, Rosto? You could easily have been killed.”
Rosto didn’t look at me. “I don’t have the safest job in the world, Frank. You used to work for me, so you know that. I heard that Colonel Starker was interested in the Flying Cities, and so naturally I wanted to know what he wanted. Either I could spend ages sitting around in one place waiting for a sniff of action, or I could make something happen. I’ve always been a pro-active guy, so I chose the latter.”
I let go of his arm. Rosto left the flight deck without a further word, and I set course for the semi-derelict space station that was Refuge, a place where spies, rebels and those desperate enough to meet them for profit could get together safely on neutral ground. “You could have thanked me for saving your life!” I shouted after him.
Chapter six
“Another beer,” I said to the bartender.
He just nodded at me, took the money and drew me another glass without a word. I drank half the glass down, then leaned one elbow on the bar and stared around. The space bar was about half full of assorted races and species, all of whom had one thing in common: the burning, urgent desire to get thoroughly drunk before they had to crawl (or be carried) back to their assorted space ships. Yes, of course I felt like that too after a few weeks of enforced solitude. Being an ‘independent trader’ sounds incredibly glamorous – but more often than not it means spending weeks at a time on your own in a small space ship delivering dodgy cargoes to places no one with any sense wants to visit. On the upside, it means spending weeks on your own without being surrounded by a lot of annoying people, and not having to answer to anyone when you stop for a drink.
Another positive is that the people who want to hire people like me seem to enjoy doing business in disreputable bars… which was why I was in this one. Paying jobs had been a bit thin on the ground since the Serenopolis fiasco, and I was in need of an influx of money. In one corner of the bar a band was setting up its instruments and in the absence of other entertainment I watched as they all snarled abuse at the drummer and ignored the demands of the vocalist for the microphone to be set up first.
“If they play as well as they argue, should be a good night.” The voice came from over my shoulder. I turned round to see a Rigellian who was wearing what might once have been an Imperium combat jacket over an old Free Union flight suit. “You Frank?” he asked. His Standard was slightly accented, but although it sounded familiar I couldn’t place the accent.
“Yes. You’re Rennie?”
“For now,” agreed the Rigellian. Great. I so love to know who I’m dealing with. “You come well recommended, Frank.”
“Who by?”
“Colonel Starker’s bounty for your head?”
“Ssshhh! See those three over there?” I directed Rennie to look at a table nearby. Three Terrans sat there drinking. Suspicious, weapon shaped bulges in their clothing would have had them arrested by a fully armed SWAT team in any reputable drinking establishment in the galaxy… which sort of explains that this bar was not one of the respectable ones.
“Yes.”
“Don’t stare. They’re bounty hunters. They make a living killing people like me.”
“Then why are you still alive? Colonel Starker’s bounty isn’t a state secret.”
“Because if they tried to collect the bounty on my head, someone would kill them for Starker’s bounty on their heads. And to collect the cash they were owed for me as a bonus.”
“MAD.”
“It might be daft, but it keeps me alive in some places.”
The Rigellian looked as if he was about to say something, then stopped and ordered a drink instead. The barman poured me another beer without being asked, and the Rigellian paid unquestioningly.
“What can I do for you, Rennie?” I asked.
“I need a package delivering. Discreet like.”
“Where?”
“Phaedra City.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s in the Morainis system.”
That I had heard of. “No.” I swallowed the end of my beer. The Morainis system was a hot spot right at the moment. It had tried to exchange the overt rule of the Imperium for membership of The Free Union of Worlds and the covert but effective rule by their Financial Authority and Central Bank. The Imperium had struck back hard to prevent this. Their forces were all over Morainis.
“I was told that you’re the best.”
“I’m still alive, if that’s what you mean. And I plan to stay that way.”
“Very sensible,” approved the Rigellian. “But staying alive takes money, doesn’t it? Are you a rich man, Frank?”
I was prepared to bet that Rennie already knew the state of my bank account.
“I’m not going to say that I’m going to make you rich, but I’ll pay you enough to keep you alive for a long time.”
“That won’t help me if I’m dead.”
“But you are the best, Frank. If anyone can get in and out of there, you can. And you’ll not be short of money for a long time afterwards.”
“No, because I’ll be dead.”
“It’s not a big parcel. But important.”
“If it’s that important, then you can pay me a lot of money. And I still won’t do it.”
“Okay, Frank.” Rennie beckoned to the barman. “Those three men over there? Whatever they are drinking. On me.”
The barman started pulling beers. I decided to reappraise my position, taking a more holistic view of the overall situation. “What’s in it? This package?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“And exactly where do I deliver it?”
“I told you. Phaedra City.”
“Presumably a big place. Where in this city?”
“There’s a place on the outskirts. You’ll have directions.”
I watched the barman take the drinks to the bounty hunters’ table. They started to pay attention to us.
“OK. Payment in advance. I’ll just bet you already have my Galactic Bank details.”
“Well done, Frank. I was told that I could rely on you.”
; “Who by?”
“Let’s say a previous, and satisfied, customer of yours.”
That narrowed the field a lot.
“A Colonel Rosto spoke highly of your abilities.”
“I’ll just bet he did. Bet he told you I wasn’t going to be cheap, too.”
“There’s no shortage of cash for this trip, Frank.”
He mentioned a sum that convinced me that this job was insanely dangerous. And tempting.
“Can you leave in an hour?” asked Rennie.
In my peripheral vision I could see the bounty hunters starting to confer. “I’m off now. Want to come?” I started walking.
“I’ll meet you at the dock in ten minutes.”
I headed for the door. It had a large glass window and using the reflection in the window I watched the bounty hunters at their table. One of them stood up and I got ready to start running but his friends pulled him back down. I relaxed and carried on walking towards the dock where my Speedbird was parked.
I had relaxed too soon of course. As I approached the Speedbird, a very heavy hand fell onto my shoulder and spun me around. Knocked off balance, I staggered to one side and so managed to miss getting tangled up in the huge coil of rope that had just been thrown at me by one of the bounty hunters from the bar. He swore in frustration, while the other two laughed at his discomfiture. Their laughter didn’t stop them from pointing their hand weapons in my direction.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
“Worth quite a bit of money, you are, Frank. To a certain party.”
“Well, that makes four of us then, doesn’t it?” I replied. “If you try and take me in, Starker’s men will nab you guys as well and keep all the cash for themselves. And you know it.”
“We know that, Frank. So we’ve sold you on to a third party, who will collect the reward on you. We get enough to make the delivery worthwhile.”
“What makes you think you’ll ever see any of the cash?” I asked, backing away slowly towards my ship.
“We took a decent deposit upfront. Been looking for you for a few weeks now, we have. Just missed you in Serenopolis – you got out just before the President snaffled you instead. Bit of luck for you, and for us. Then you flew off to Refuge: well, we couldn’t drag you out of there so easily. Had to track you to here, instead.”
I went cold. Somehow these three goons were sufficiently clued up to follow me even through hyperspace. When I escaped from them, I would need to work out how they managed this trick and put a stop to it. Mind you, I had to escape first. They clearly expected something, as they were closing in on me in a highly professional manner. Spread out to cut off different exit routes and not to interrupt each other’s line of fire. I began to think that I might be in trouble this time.
“Can we negotiate?” I asked.
“It’s not personal, Frank. Just business. We’ve taken a deposit, like we said. Not good business to go back on a deal, is it? You know that.”
The goon with the rope had finished gathering it up in his arms, and now approached me again, holding the coils in front of him. “Just stand still. This bit won’t hurt at all.”
I eyed him distrustfully. “That bit comes later, I suppose?”
The goon shrugged. “Not our department, Frank. We just do the collection and delivery stuff.”
“Excuse me gentlemen, but Frank is under contract to me.”
Everyone turned to look at Rennie the Rigellian, who had crept up behind the bounty hunters as they crept up on me. Rennie lifted one large fist and punched the nearest of them so hard that he slid across the floor into the feet of his nearest friend, bringing him down on top of the first in an untidy heap. The last of the trio was staring at the tableau with his mouth open, so I used the opportunity to kick him very hard in a terrifically sensitive spot and ran for the Speedbird. Rennie was close on my heels and I shut the entry port doorway behind us before the bounty hunters had sorted themselves out.
“Thanks!” I gasped.
“No need for thanks. That was quite good fun.” Rennie smiled at me and looked around the hatch area. “Up there, I assume?” Without waiting for a reply he ran up the spiral staircase into the living area. I followed more slowly, listening to his snorts of laughter at what he found. “Do you really live like this?” he asked as I joined him.
“Yes. What’s wrong with it?”
“You need to ask?”
“I live here alone. I’m comfy like this.”
Rennie snorted, pushed some socks off the only chair in the living area, and sat down. I pushed past him and headed into the flight deck. Turning on the vidscreens, I could see that the bounty hunters had sorted themselves out and were heading for their own craft. They looked as if they were arguing. Thinking that it was best to depart before they were ready to follow us, I started up the main drive and eased the Speedbird away from the dock. I was so busy watching for the bounty hunters’ craft that I nearly ran into a shuttle full of deep space miners that was heading for the bar. The resulting comms exchange was, for me at least, an education in advanced invective and abuse.
“What was all that shouting about?” called Rennie from the living quarters.
“Local flight control,” I told him.
“Are they supposed to call you, now what was it? An illegitimate spawning between…”
“No,” I answered, cutting him off from recounting the memory. “Look, I’m accelerating now, away from the space bar. I’ll need to refer to the charts for a bit. Do you fancy watching out for the ship that might start chasing us?”
“Suppose so.” Rennie came and leant on the side of the door into the flight deck. He stared at the various vidscreens. “How will I recognise it?”
“Actually, I don’t know. There is some local traffic, so see if any of the ships or shuttles seem to be following us.”
I left him to watch the screens and sorted through my collection of space flight guides, maps and star charts. After a few minutes, I found Morainis. As it was officially still in the Imperium, at least when my data had been printed, details were a bit sketchy. The safest place to arrive at the system seemed to be at a beacon close to a small planet on the periphery of the system. Unfortunately that was also very close to the notional boundary between the Imperium and The Free Union, and so it was not beyond possibility that it might be guarded.
“How much are you paying me again?” I asked.
“Too much.”
“And what exactly am I delivering?”
There was no reply. I folded up the start chart and went back to the flight deck. Rennie was still leaning on the wall, so I took the pilot’s chair, and tried to look authoritative. Of course the chair promptly made a noise and sank down to its lowest setting, leaving me peering over the edge of the console and looking stupid instead. If Rennie’s money came through, I really should get it fixed.
“Rennie? What am I delivering?”
The Rigellian gave me grin that had no humour in it at all. “Me,” he said.
“Can’t you just get a transport flight?”
“I’ve a bit of a problem with my passport.”
“What sort of problem?”
“It got revoked. By the Imperium. I did buy an alternative version, but it doesn’t work very well.”
Wonderful. Just as I had got used to having a legitimate job again at Serenopolis, the Chief Spy of The Free Union put in a cameo appearance and suddenly I was back to being a people smuggler. To cap it all, the missile lock alert started screaming. Although the combat computer was in standby mode, that particular sub routine overrode everything else on the ship.
“What’s that?” demanded Rennie, clasping his hands over his ears.
“Your mates from the space bar,” I snarled at him. “Still trying to collect on me.”
I spun the Speedbird into a longitudinal roll, switched on the combat system and activated the rear defence pod. The rear vidscreen showed me the bounty hunters’ craft –
a converted interstellar freighter, from the look of it. With no heavy cargo to haul around (other than the bounty hunters’ egos) it might prove to be as fast as my Speedbird. Maybe a couple of space mines would slow them down? I ejected a couple in their general direction, and then pulled the Speedbird into a tight turn.
Rennie staggered as the force of the turn affected the internal gravity and grabbed at the flight console to keep himself upright. Naturally he managed to hit a flight control, and the unexpected adjustment to the trajectory of the turn sent us tumbling out of control. He collapsed to the floor, clutching at his stomach. “Do something,” he groaned as the ship rotated violently. At least the random, wild manoeuvre had broken the missile lock. I reset the defence screens and then fought to get the scout ship back on an even flight path.
The comms system came to life: “Give up, Russell!” demanded one of the hunters. I decided to call him Basil, for no good reason.
“No.”
The freighter managed to evade the space mines, but lost considerable ground in its pursuit, and any hope of getting into a firing position now that I understood its intentions. I paid attention to the flight console, and in the end opted for slowing down to a safer velocity and engaging the automatic stabilisation routine. Dangerous in a combat situation, at least it allowed the ship to smooth the flight trajectory. The moment the motion eased, I hit full power again. The freighter had closed the gap between us significantly and the bounty hunters tried their last chance to capture us. The Speedbird lurched again.
“Now what?” asked Rennie.
I spared him a glance. The Rigellian was hunched up on the floor, looking rather sickly. “Don’t throw up!” I urged him.
“Why?”
“I’m a bit short of cleaning stuff. You might have to mop it up with your own clothes.”
The Rigellian seemed unenthusiastic about the idea. “Why don’t you buy cleaning materials?”
Interstellar Mercenary Page 7
