by JN Chaney
Both Abigail and I looked at one another. “Oh, uh, she’s—”
“Yes, we’re married,” she said, interrupting me.
I narrowed my eyes at her with a disjointed expression. “Huh?”
“We’re on our way to my uncle’s place, but Jace here insisted on stopping for fuel. Next thing I knew, he wanted to see what shops were here.” She shook her head. “I see he’s found another one.”
Bolin laughed. “I was just talking to your husband about scrapping. It seems we share the same interest.”
“Is that right?” she asked, looking at me. “Isn’t that a strange coincidence.”
“It is,” I said, simply.
“And what exactly did you manage to scrap this time?”
“He wanted to purchase a few of these,” said Bolin, pointing to the box.
Abigail’s eyes widened at the sight of the artifact. She recomposed herself quickly, but I knew there was more to this, whatever the hell it was, and it made me even more curious. “Oh, well, as long as he can wrap this up soon, I’d like to be on our way. My uncle is probably worried.”
“I’ll have you ready to go as soon as possible,” Bolin assured her.
I heard a click on my com. “Captain, it’s Doctor Hitchens. Are you available or otherwise engaged?”
I touched my ear. “What is it, Doc?”
“Octavia and I have had no luck procuring any proper medical research supplies. It seems this city is still under construction and does not have a working hospital or even an emergency medical station. Of all the facilities to delay construction on, one would think—”
“Was there something else or was that all you needed?” I asked, cutting him off.
“Oh, pardon me. Octavia managed to discover the whereabouts of a medical research space station, not far from here. It also happens to be along our present heading.”
“And you think that will help us with Lex?”
“If the station has the right supplies and equipment, I believe so, Captain.”
I looked at Abby. “Thoughts?”
“I think it’s a good move,” she said.
“Okay, you got that, Siggy?” I asked. “Update our route when you have a chance.”
“Understood, sir. I shall do so immediately.”
Finally, things were looking up. We had promises of artifacts and a proper lab to test the kid, maybe find some answers. I wondered if it was safe to start feeling optimistic, but buried the feeling.
Optimism made a person feel safe. It was the fastest way to get yourself killed. I couldn’t have that.
“Is everything okay?” asked Bolin.
I’d forgotten he was there. Oops. “Yeah, nothing to be concerned about. I was just talking to a friend. He’s on our ship and was hoping to restock our medicine. No luck here, though.”
“Oh, I see. Is he a doctor? I heard you call him ‘Doc’.”
“Something like that,” I said, but left it at that.
Camilla came back, carrying several smaller pieces in her arms. I didn’t recognize any of them, but it definitely seemed like the same sort of technology we were after. Part of me wanted to call Hitchens and Octavia to have them give their opinion, but doing so might make Bolin suspicious and I couldn’t have him raising the price or calling someone. The last thing I needed was a background check and my warrant popping up on a screen with hundreds of thousands of credits enticing these people to turn me in.
“Thank you, Camilla,” said Bolin, helping her set the objects on the nearby table. “Please, folks, have a look.”
I eyed each of the relics, pretending like I knew what I was doing. I caught Abigail doing the same, although she was trying to seem uninterested. It would have been better if we’d gone into this prepared, our roles reversed, with her acting as the scrap expert and me as the clueless husband, but I couldn’t go back now. Besides, I didn’t live with regrets. “Some of these are decent, but I don’t know about the rest,” I muttered, sweeping my fingers across my jaw, like I was in deep thought. “Tell you what, how about I buy the lot from you in bulk at, say, three seventy-five?”
“Three hundred and seventy-five credits?” he asked.
I nodded. “That’s a fair price for what you have.”
He glanced at each of the devices, probably trying to gauge the value, but I knew he had no idea. No one in this tent knew what this shit was worth. Not really. “I can do that,” he said, after a few seconds. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Great, then it’s a deal. All your pieces for three hundred and seventy-five credits.”
“I’ll get the account pad and you can make the transfer,” he said, reaching beneath the counter. “Was there anything else you wanted to—”
A loud pop went off somewhere in the distance, sounding like a gunshot.
I turned where I stood, hand at my waist. “The hell was that?!”
“Uh, oh!” said Camilla, hiding behind her father. “Is it the Rakers?”
“The what?” I asked.
“Rakers,” repeated Bolin. “The Sarkonian military stationed here. They come around sometimes, looking for illegal trading.”
“Illegal trading?” I shot another look at the relics. “Are you allowed to have these?”
Bolin scratched the back of his head. “Um.”
I slammed my open hand on the table. “Quick, get this shit wrapped and stowed before they get here!”
He didn’t argue, probably because he knew the Sarkonian military didn’t fuck around. He took everything in a large brown sack and ran to the back, along with his daughter. I heard lids opening and shutting as they frantically tried to hide the evidence.
Just then, the tent flap flew open. Abigail and I turned to see three soldiers storm in, each holding rifles across their chests. They were dressed in Sarkonian armor, the same uniforms we’d seen at the hospital. “Everyone stop where you are!” barked one of them, a woman with a thin scar across her cheek.
Abigail and I turned toward them and raised our hands, slowly stepping to the side and away from the counter. “Just shopping here,” I told her. “No need to blow our heads off.”
“Where’s the shop owner? Get out here right now!” barked the female officer.
Bolin came quickly from the back half of the tent, opening the halfway flap, sweat on his forehead. “S-Sorry about that,” he managed to say. “I was trying to find some engine parts for this man here.”
“Engine parts?” asked the officer, glancing at me. “You have a ship?”
“I do,” I said.
She eyed me. “You don’t look like a resident. What’s your business?”
“My wife and I are on our honeymoon, headed to see her uncle. We thought we’d stop here on the way to see what goods you had to trade. I figured I could use some replacement parts while I was here.”
“I see,” said the officer, staring at us for what felt like a creepily long time. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw one of her eyes flicker, but convinced myself it was only my nerves. “Well, mind your business in this town and you’ll be fine, but I need you to stay where you are for now. We’re performing a search on all the shops here.”
“Is that what the gunshot was about just now?” I asked.
“Someone gave us trouble. Better not to do what they did.”
“Right, of course.” I looked at Abigail. “We won’t be a problem. Right, dear?”
“Goodness, no,” said Abigail, her voice suddenly much softer than I was used to hearing. “Oh, dear me, you know, I just don’t want to cause anyone any trouble.”
I blinked at her, surprised by whatever the fuck she was doing. She sounded like a completely different person.
“Mr. Abernathy, is it? Our records show you have a daughter. Where is she?” asked the officer.
“Sleeping. She’s been there for hours,” he said.
“Bring her out here right now.”
“I-Is that necessary, ma’am?” he asked.
“It
is if you don’t want to get arrested. Now, do as I say.”
He looked at us, concern all over his face, and slowly backed away into the rear section of the tent. A moment later, he returned with his daughter, who was rubbing her eyes like she’d just woken up.
I had to give her credit. The girl could act. Even her hair was messy.
The female officer approached the two of them. With her rifle in hand, she looked down at the young girl. “Camilla Abernathy?”
“Yes,” she answered, staring up at the woman.
“Please step out from behind the counter.”
Camilla slowly came around the side of the table, looking both confused and terrified. We all knew where this was going.
The officer motioned at her two accomplices. “Take her.”
The men grabbed the girl’s wrists and place them behind her back.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“This child is under arrest for trespassing. We caught her on a holo recording, just behind the security fence.”
Bolin’s expression change to horror. “No, that wasn’t her! She’s been here all day!”
“Don’t try to lie to me. I saw the feed myself. There’s no mistaking it was her. In fact, I suggest you bring me the object she stole, unless you want us to shoot both of you where you stand.”
“W-Wait!” pleaded Bolin. “I’m telling you, I didn’t see her bring anything back. Don’t hurt her!”
The woman nodded to her subordinate. “Have a look back there. See what you can find.”
He did as she said and went into the rear of the tent. I heard some heavy shuffling as he tore the place apart, breaking what sounded like pottery. A few moments later, he returned with a wrapped cloth, full of the trinkets Bolin had shown us, all in one hand. In the other, he held the box.
“As I thought,” said the female soldier.
Camilla started breathing quickly as the panic set in. Her eyes darted to the officer and then to the exit, and her foot began to edge forward.
I could already see what she was thinking. The problem with that, of course, was that she wouldn’t get far if she ran. Amateurs never did. She’d run out of here, make it about twelve meters, and then a bullet would stop her dead in her tracks.
I sighed, removing my pistol from under my coat and aiming the barrel at the woman’s face, cocking it. “That’s good and plenty, I think,” I said. “Let the girl go.”
Abigail looked at me with total surprise. She obviously hadn’t expected me to intervene, but it only took a moment for her to adjust. She drew her own weapon, holding it toward one of the other soldiers.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked the female officer. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“You might not be that far off. Now, let the kid go.”
She didn’t seem fazed by the fact we had two weapons aimed at her team. “Do you know who you’re talking to right now?”
“A Sarkonian,” I said.
“I’m Commander Mercer Equestri. You will do as I say, unless you want to—”
I jerked my arm to the left and fired a quick shot into one of the other soldiers’ legs. He fell to his knees with a loud scream.
Mercer Equestri looked at me with a wide-eyed expression. “What did you do that for?!”
“He was going for his weapon. Not a smart move.”
The man screamed again, clutching his leg in pain. I raised my pistol back to the so-called commander.
“If you think I’m just going to hand this girl over to you, you’re out of your mind!” she said.
I shrugged. “Sounds to me like you want a bullet in your chest.”
She clenched her teeth, looking at Camilla, who was standing next to her in the other soldier’s arms.
“Last chance, lady,” I said.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Let her go.”
The other soldier released the girl.
“Give her that box, too, while you’re at it,” I said.
“That is the property of the Sarkonian government!” insisted Mercer.
“Do it or I’ll shoot both of you in a different limb.”
She gave me a look that either meant she wanted to kill me or bed me. Either way, I wasn’t interested. “Give it to her,” Mercer finally said.
The soldier handed the box to Camilla, and I motioned for her to come to my side. When she was close enough, I leaned down and whispered, “Get to the hangar. Spot 226. You understand?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
I held her shoulder so she didn’t go running off. “Wait a second,” I whispered, then aimed my gun at the tent’s flap, and fired.
The shot tore through the fabric, hitting something on the other side. A body fell on the ground, right in front of the entrance. He let out a groan.
“Always look for the rear guard,” I told the girl. “Standard search and seizure. Now, you can go, kid.”
She ran forward, jumping over the fallen soldier and taking off down the street.
Mercer watched the girl leave. “We’ll find her soon. There are over two hundred active security personnel in this city and each of them has access to the same alert system I do. They’ll know who she is the second our sensors pick up her biometrics.”
I stepped closer to her, keeping the pistol on her at all times, and removed her rifle, throwing the strap over my shoulder. I also took the gun from the guy with the bullet in his leg. Once both weapons were safely removed, I turned Mercer around and put my barrel to the small of her back. “Whatever you say,” I told her.
Abigail did the same with the other, yet-to-be-shot soldier, wrapping his arms behind him and taking his gun.
“Hey, Bolin, buddy,” I began. “Got any cuffs we can use? Anything like that?”
“I, uh, I have some plastic ties,” he said, crouching behind the counter.
As he brought them over to me, I felt Mercer tense up. “Must be tough, not being in control,” I said, taking one of the straps from the shopkeeper.
“You’re the one not in control,” she said.
“Sure, lady, sure.” I took her left wrist and wrapped the strap around it, making certain it was nice and tight.
She leaned back to look at me, a slight smile on her face. “You must be from the Union or somewhere in the Deadlands, is that right?”
“Shut up,” I ordered. “It doesn’t matter where I’m from.”
“You’re not that familiar with Sarkonian uniforms, are you?”
I snapped the second half of the tie around her other wrist, finally securing her hands. “I swear, lady, you must just want a bullet, the way you keep talking.”
“Do yourself a favor, whoever you are, and look beneath the small flap beneath my jacket. The one with the button.”
I glanced at her stomach, following her eyes. “Why?”
“Just look,” she said. “It’s important for you to know.”
“If this is a trap, I’m going to shoot you. You know that, right?”
She nodded. “Of course, and I promise, it’s not.”
I slid my finger to the button and unhooked it, lifting the flap of clothing, revealing a small piece of metal no larger than my thumb. “What is this?”
“A voice recorder. My personal identifier. A number of things, really, packaged into one.”
“This thing is recording us?” I asked, jerking my hand back.
“And it just scanned your face,” she said, with a wry smile. “Oh, look at that.”
I saw a small reflection in her iris change. It must’ve been an implant for constant data retrieval. I’d heard of those before. Kept meaning to pick one up for myself, actually, but they were tough as shit to find on the market these days.
“Jace Hughes of The Renegade Star, is it?” she asked. “Looks like there’s a hefty price on your head. Maybe I won’t have you killed after all. Maybe I’ll only rough you up before I arrest you.” She glanced at Abby, and I saw another flicker in her eye. “Abig
ail Pryar, too. Wow, it looks like the bounty for you is even higher.”
I ripped the recording device from her clothes and dropped it on the floor, stomping and cracking it.
“It’s too late for that, Captain Hughes,” said Mercer. “The rest of my security personnel are already being dispatched.”
Abigail grabbed my arm. “We need to go!”
I pressed the barrel of my gun to the officer’s temple. It had to hurt, but she smiled through it. “Call them off!” I told her.
“Not a chance, Hughes.”
I started to squeeze the trigger, slightly pressing my finger to it, but stopped. A dead Sarkonian commander would only incentivize their fleet to hunt me down.
She smiled. “Smart move, Captain. You don’t want to add homicide to your record. That would be—”
I smashed the butt of my gun into the side of her face, sending her to the floor. She might not eat a bullet today, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t give her a headache. She collapsed in front of me, seemingly unconscious.
Abigail gasped. “Holy!”
“Tie these idiots up and let’s go!” I looked at Bolin. “Help me with the other guy.”
“Okay, right,” said the shopkeeper. The two of us dragged the bleeding soldier to the counter, wrapping his arms around one of the table legs and securing him. “What do we do now?” he asked.
“We get our asses out of here, that’s what,” I said, checking outside the tent. “And you’re coming with us.”
Seven
A bullet pierced the tent as soon as I opened the flap. I counted six soldiers, although I couldn’t be certain, given the panicking crowd. “We have a problem!” I said, lifting my gun. “Abby, grab Bolin and let’s go!”
“On it!” she returned, taking the shopkeeper by the arm. He was twice her size, but it was clear from the look on both their faces who exactly was in control.
“What are we doing?!” he asked.
“Running,” said Abigail, tugging him along. “Stay close and try not to get shot!”
The enemy soldier’s next blast struck Abigail’s cart, a meter to my left.
I returned fire, getting his chest, knocking him on his ass, but the other five were still coming.
“Move!” I yelled, running.
