by D. M. Pruden
Normally, he only went to town as a lost measure to continue his miserable existence. Now, that was impossible. He had no choice but to flee and try to build a new life elsewhere. The alternative, remaining, only made it a matter of time before his guilt was discovered and Derry’s men exacted revenge before putting him into a shallow grave.
He gingerly probed the injury. The cut was deep and would require more than a dirty bandage.
Shaking his head at his clumsiness and annoyed by yet another obstacle preventing his escape, he trudged through the blowing dust toward his hovel. An accident was inevitable, given the little sleep he’d gotten the previous seventy-two hours. The wind-driven grit stung as it clawed at his exposed face. The stinging sand seemed appropriate admonishment for his carelessness.
After wrapping a towel tightly around the wound, he hunted for his old medical kit, eventually locating it beneath a pile of neglected laundry. Without looking inside, he already knew he had no more synth-skin to dress it. He would need to go old-school and use staples.
He opened the battered metal box and surveyed his almost depleted supplies. The antiseptic was nearly gone, and he had nothing left to freeze his arm before beginning self-surgery.
Disappointed, he cast his eyes about the kitchen area. This was going to hurt like hell, and there was nothing available to dull the pain.
It was just as well. He needed to remain sober so he could quickly finish his repairs and get off-planet. Every minute he remained grounded was more time for Derry to finger him as a suspect.
He removed the bandage and cleaned the laceration as best he could, picking out sand grains that seemed to get everywhere on this damned moon. After applying the last of his antiseptic, he gritted his teeth and reached for the staple gun. The cure would hurt far worse than the injury.
Three staples later, he tossed the device back into the medical kit and packed it up.
He looked out through the abraded kitchen window at his grounded ship, and a sigh escaped. The replacement part was not an optimal substitute for his ship’s damaged FTCV. Too many models removed from the defective one, he was forced to spend three days adapting his fuel flow system to accommodate the pilfered component.
Hayden’s heart stopped when someone emerged from behind his ship.
The hooded figure stared back at him.
An improperly tied habiq, worn to protect from the elements, obscured the man’s features. The abrasive, sand-laden wind whipped at the fabric covering his head and rattled off the window pane.
A desperate glance at his useless ship confirmed that he was trapped.
Sighing, he reached into a storage compartment and pulled out his mauler pistol. A quick check of the outdated firearm reminded him that it was not recharged. It only had two bolts remaining. If the stranger had any companions, Hayden wouldn’t be in a position to put up much of a fight.
He strapped the holster to his right thigh and looked out once more to reconsider his options. Upon deciding that none existed that didn’t postpone the inevitable, or make matters considerably worse, he walked to the door.
The stranger’s arms hung relaxed at his sides, but Hayden did not drop his guard. After donning sand goggles, he emerged slowly, hand resting loosely on his holstered mauler.
As the space between them closed, he realized how large the fellow was. He estimated the man was over two metres tall. The billowing garment he wore failed to obscure a well-muscled physique but revealed no weapon.
Grip tightened on the pistol, he continued until he stood a short distance from the man.
They stared at each other.
“State your business,” Hayden called above the wind.
“You gonna use that thing?” the muffled voice said.
“Not unless you give me a reason.”
In response, the stranger raised his empty hands. “I’m not armed. I’m just here to talk.”
Hayden’s hand remained on his still holstered gun. He shrugged. “So say what you came to.”
“Any chance we can get out of this wind?”
“You can start by telling me your name.”
“You’ll just forget it in a minute. Miles Derry sent me.”
His heart jumped, and he squeezed the pistol grip tighter, resisting the urge to pull it out.
“What does he want?”
The man shook his head. “He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. He asked me to bring you back to Katox.”
Hayden tried to swallow past the dry lump in his throat. He followed the man’s gaze to his left to see two men about thirty metres away, standing near a ground skimmer. None of them appeared armed, but the desert protection they all wore could easily conceal a weapon or two. Hayden’s mind raced, and panic grew when he realized there was no way he could fight his way out of this.
“Who are your friends?”
“Just some mates I brought to check out a crash site.”
“Did someone go down? I didn’t hear anything.”
“Somebody thought they saw a ship come in hot a couple of days ago, but we didn’t find anything. Must’ve been a meteor.”
“Yeah, probably.”
The wind filled the silence that fell between them.
“So what should I tell him?” the man asked.
“Who?”
“Derry. Are you going to come with me to see him?”
Confused about whether his paranoia was making decisions for him, he decided to test the opening the man just gave him.
“I’m sort of busy right now. Can I come in later to see him?”
The stranger shrugged and glanced back at Hayden’s ship. The access hatch was open, and tools lay scattered about the ground. “That doesn’t look like it can make it to town. I’ll bring you back here when you’re done.”
Hayden studied the fellow. His posture was relaxed, hardly how he expected an enforcer’s to be. A quick check of his companions suggested that they were bored and perhaps annoyed at having to stand out being sandblasted under the sun.
Even if they were a gang of goons with concealed weapons, Hayden’s depleted mauler would be of little use against them all.
He released his grip on the pistol. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER SIX
A Lucky Break
AS HAYDEN ENTERED Molly’s, he spotted a familiar figure loitering at a table in the back. His pulse quickened when he recognized Derry. He seemed pensive, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists on the table. They had not seen each other since the fire. His last memory of the man was of him passed out on a couch.
Did he guess? Hayden doubted the wisdom of coming. Before he could turn to walk away, he was spotted.
“Kaine, I’m glad you came. I hope I didn’t take you from anything important?”
Caught off-guard by the casual manner, he hesitated. “Your man said you wanted to see me.”
Derry’s smile was awkward, as if it was something unfamiliar, and gestured for him to sit. “Um, you know I had a big fire at my warehouse?”
Hayden swallowed and tried to remain cool. “Yes, I heard about that. Sorry it happened to you.”
“Oh, thanks...”
“Was anyone hurt?” Hayden’s stomach tied itself into knots. He had not waited around to see if someone helped the security guard.
“My man was on duty, but somebody pulled him out of the building.”
Hayden released his held breath. “Did he say what happened?”
“No, he took a bump to the head and can’t remember much of anything.”
He allowed himself to relax a little. “What is it you wanted to speak with me about?”
“I’m in a pickle, Kaine, and there aren’t many I can turn to. I don’t easily make friends, you included, I suppose...”
Hayden didn’t drop his guard, and he remained alert to any surprise as he coaxed Derry to continue.
“Here’s my situation...everything I owned went up in that fire. Not too many people are privy to this.”
“Why are you
telling me? Aren’t you afraid I’m gonna blab about it?”
Derry chuckled. “Everyone thinks you’re a decent guy.”
The words hit him like a blow to the face. The man had no clue what Hayden had done to him. Derry interpreted his silence as modesty, because he continued.
“Kaine, I owe people. They’re not very nice people either...”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miles, I’m broke, otherwise I’d lend you the money.” The lie came to his lips far too easily.
“No, no, you don’t understand. I don’t want that. I want to hire you.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you see not only did my inventory go, but all the cash that I had on hand too. I can’t pay any of my boys, and none of them are too keen on working on commission. I hoped I could persuade you to help me out?”
“What kind of arrangement are you thinking about?”
“Nothing too complicated. I just want you to, maybe, enter into a contract with me. We can agree to partner up for the next few weeks. You’re a damn good salvage monkey, Kaine. One of the best around here...well, aside from me.” He chuckled.
“I’m listening.”
“My ship is grounded because my fuel cells went up in the fire. I need a helping hand here, and I’m hoping you can give a buddy some help.”
Never in his wildest imaginings had he considered that term to describe their relationship. If anything, Derry always treated Hayden with contempt, always making any tightwad offer sound generous beyond reason.
For years, he’d fantasized about putting this man in his place. He was too full of himself and always extracted the last possible drop of profit from anyone he dealt with.
Yet here he was, small and humbled, practically begging for help from the man who had put him in his predicament. He honestly believed that his magnanimous nature was motivation enough for Hayden to jump at the opportunity rather than laugh and walk away.
All he could think of were flames reaching like a beacon to the sky. He swallowed hard. “What kind of arrangement are you talking about?”
“Well, if you could go out to salvage on my behalf, I’ll split the profit on everything you bring in, 50-50.”
“How is that good for me? Right now, anything I find is 100% mine.”
“Yeah, that’s not the whole deal. Let me finish?”
Hayden nodded.
“I need to start over, and to do that I require inventory. My ships are grounded until I can replace the fuel cells I lost. If you give me a helping hand, I’ll give you 50% of everything that I find once I’m back up and running, up to twice the amount of that you spot me.”
Hayden studied him for any sign he was being played, unfortunately seeing a lot. For Derry, the terms were generous beyond precedent, which was a problem. They were unbelievable coming from a man who would lease his dead grandmother’s grave.
His first inclination was to tell him to go to hell. The man had never given any slack to him when he went to him during his own bad times. Now, here he was, practically begging for a handout. He had balls.
Hayden did not give the consequences of the fire any serious consideration. Only now did he realize he had the only operating salvage ship in the region. It made perfect sense for Miles Derry to suspect him of having something to do with his misfortune. Instead, he was now offered an unprecedented opportunity.
Guilt gnawed at him. If not for what he did, Derry’s people would still be collecting pay, and their families would still be able to eat. For the past few days, everyone had been scraping by, but there was no guarantee things would improve. In one breathtakingly selfish act, to keep his crime undetected, he had almost destroyed the economy of an entire town.
What would happen if he turned down the offer? How would things change? People could starve, and Katox would die. Only Hayden’s pride would benefit from rejecting it.
Once again, because of him, everyone’s life was worse.
Despite how much he disliked the man who sat across from him, this was a chance to right a wrong.
He couldn’t repair the damage he had done to the empire. That was impossible. But here and now, he saw an opportunity to do something else to undo something he’d caused. How could he refuse?
After they shook hands over the arrangement, Hayden moved to the bar and ordered a drink.
He marvelled at his good fortune, first at not being suspected of starting the fire, and second for being the recipient of Derry’s uncharacteristic generosity.
Good things simply did not happen. What was drilled in him since childhood and confirmed by experience was that the cosmos did not play favourites. Everyone was the author of their own destiny.
And yet...
His thoughts turned to his old ship, Scimitar. The crew had valiantly confronted insurmountable odds and were destroyed, the nobility of their cause not considered. He, however, singlehandedly set off the explosion that shut down the interstellar jump gate network, plunging civilization into a dark age. By some bizarre twist of fate, he had survived, despite the magnitude of his sin. It was all being repeated again now on a smaller scale.
It seemed that there was no balance; no rhyme or reason to events, good or bad. It was all random. In spite of the destruction he continually seemed to precipitate, Hayden Kaine continued on. Maybe living to see the damage he authored was the retribution demanded by the universe.
Maybe the only noble thing he could do was fix his ship and leave the system forever before he cost any more lives with his selfish decisions.
Maybe no matter what he did, shit would happen. Deep down, he hoped that might be the case.
For the moment, fortune appeared to favour him, negating the necessity of any guilt-driven temptation to cast himself into exile.
This place was where fate had conspired to place him, as part of his punishment.
He downed his drink.
It was best not to try to take on destiny. It was time for him to finish his repairs and take the path set before him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nothing Changes
TWO LOUSY DAYS was all it took for Derry to show his true colours.
Hayden stood before the table in the bar from which Miles ran his business.
“This isn’t even a tenth of what that load is worth,” he said, waving the credit voucher in Derry’s face.
“My expenses won’t pay for themselves, Kaine. You didn’t expect me to eat those costs, did you?”
“You’re going to do this?”
Derry put down his paperwork and stretched like an annoyed cat whose nap was disturbed. “Hayden, I truly appreciate your willingness to help me out,” he said, an oily smile on his mug. “But after speaking to you, some of my creditors came to me, and we arrived at a mutually beneficial arrangement. I am solvent once again.”
“So now that there is some cash in your pocket, you’re going to back on our deal?”
“What are you talking about?” His attempt to appear surprised was unconvincing.
“We shook hands on it...”
“No, I can’t recall anything like that happening between us. Can you show me the paperwork?”
“What?”
“I never go into a business arrangement without a written contract. Our discussion was a proposal. We agreed to consider terms, but we never entered into a binding agreement.”
“You son of a bitch.” He moved forward, intending to reach across the table. Two previously unnoticed burly associates sitting at adjacent tables stood, scowling. He raised his hands and stepped back.
Ignoring Hayden’s intended assault, Derry said, “I included an extra few percent on the payment in consideration of your willingness to assist me in my time of need.” A smug smile grew, exposing crooked yellow teeth.
Hayden glanced at the bodyguards, then back. Unable to think of anything to say that would adequately express his disgust, he exhaled, crumpled up the voucher, and threw it in Derry’s face.
“I want it all back.�
��
“What are you talking about?”
“The salvage I brought in. The deal is off, and I’m not selling to you. I want it all loaded back on my ship.”
He raised an eyebrow. “All transactions are final, Kaine. If there is nothing else, I’m very busy.”
His goons stepped forward.
“Next time I hope someone burns your business down with you in the building.”
He regretted the words the moment he said them.
Derry frowned. “My investigators tell me that the fire was deliberate. You don’t know anything about that, do you, Kaine?”
Hayden couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting, but the air in the bar suddenly became thin.
“Until this moment, Miles, I had no motivation to wish you harm.”
He let the threat hang and stormed from the tavern.
After marching a hundred metres, he turned to look back at the empty street. Prying open his hands, he saw where his nails had dug into the flesh.
He couldn’t believe he had been so naïve. His guilt had blinded him to something experience tried to warn him about. All he wanted to do was storm back inside and bounce Derry’s skull off the tabletop.
He wondered if it was a universal truth that no mistake could ever be rectified. If not, then under what conditions was it possible?
Maybe his humiliation was justice; retribution for his past sin. Perhaps there would be a way to make it up to a more reasonable person. That word did not apply to Derry, nor did he dwell on his losses. He moved on, never missing a stride. Only fools like Hayden believed everyone bled the same way he did.
He looked at the dusty faces of the crumbling buildings; the dirt path that passed for a street. Most of the people in Katox dressed in worn rags.
The entire star system was cut off from its lifeblood. It had always been a colony, dependent on support from the Confederacy. When it became isolated, it began to die like a limb deprived of blood flow. It was only a matter of time before everything would descend into some kind of postapocalyptic chaos.
These people were abandoned and forgotten, with no means to rise above their condition. No supplies would ever arrive to replace the worn equipment. No expertise would come to build up industry or educate. This society would degenerate into minor fiefdoms ruled by petty lords like Miles Derry. People like him were the only ones who would find a way to prosper from the situation.
