Fools Rush In (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3)

by Donna S. Frelick

  The Pataran was silent for a long moment, absorbing the story. Then he pinned Sam with his intense blue gaze once more.

  “Forgive my ignorance, Captain. I’m sorry for your lost crew.”

  An olive branch. Sam gritted his teeth and accepted it with a nod.

  Daniel turned back to Rayna. “Are you all right?” He touched her, a bare, light brush of fingertips on her forearm where it rested on the table next to him. And suddenly Sam knew—he knew why this guy rubbed him raw, why nothing the man said or did would ever be right enough. Sam’s eyes flicked up to take in Rayna’s reaction, his heart in his throat.

  She moved her arm, frowning. “I’m fine. It was close, but Sam knows what he’s doing.”

  Sam breathed again.

  Daniel considered him for the briefest moment and moved on. “So what happened to the Gray ship?”

  Sam shook his head. “We were lucky to escape with our lives. I wasn’t tracking their ion trail. But I wouldn’t be surprised to see them turn up here.”

  “Here? You’re the only ship that’s docked in the last tendays. Do they still have a reason to chase you?”

  “Not me.” Sam nodded at Rayna. “Our mutual friend here.”

  “The Thranes had a mission, just like I do,” she said. “I say they’ve given up on it. Sam says otherwise.”

  “Anyone who’ll go to the trouble to try to hijack one ship, then sabotage and attack another doesn’t give up easy,” Sam argued. “They’ll convince that Gray captain to bring them here, and when they see you, you’re dead.”

  “What?” Daniel whipped around to gawp at her. “They know what you look like?”

  Rayna shot him a look that should have dropped him where he sat. “That’s why I need to get into that factory ASAP. If I’m in place when they come in, there’ll be nothing they can say without blowing their own covers.”

  “Borz shit!” Daniel’s fist came down on the table, making the mugs jump. “There are dozens of ways they can expose you!”

  Sam’s estimation of the man rose a millimeter, but Rayna was having none of it. “And I them. I’ll have had time to establish myself before they get there if you can get me in soon. You know how things work inside. That will give me the advantage. But I need to go now!”

  “Rayna, it’s too dangerous.” Sam was pleading with her. He hadn’t stopped pleading with her since last night on the ship.

  Daniel’s blue gaze slipped from Rayna to Sam and back again. “I have to agree with him, Ray. How about you go back to base, and we’ll try this again in a few twentydays?”

  “We won’t have another chance, and you know it.” Rayna’s tiny body was quivering with the need to move, but there was no place for her to go. She looked from Sam to Daniel with fire in her dark gaze; Sam had to control an urge to move back. “The Thranes are up to something. If they haven’t gone home, they’ll be here to finish it. And if not those two, then someone else. I don’t know what they want, but I sure as hell won’t find out by going back to base to sit on my ass for sixty days. I’m going in. Now, are you going to help me, or not?”

  Of course, she gave him little choice, and in the end, Daniel caved. Just as Sam had caved eight hours earlier. They worked out the details of the plan while he sucked down the miserable mushroom beer by the mugful, with no hope of getting drunk and even less of drowning the ache in his chest.

  Rayna nodded at the empties cluttering the table in front of him. “You still up for this?”

  “My head’s still clear if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Her jaw clenched. “Good to know.”

  Daniel stood. “There’s a spacers’ bar in dock dome—Alpha C. Meet me there in ten minutes. Make it look good.” Then he was gone, weaving his way through the tables to the exit.

  Rayna followed Daniel’s movement through the crowd, but made no move to stand. She looked back at Sam, laid a hand on his arm.

  “I wish . . .” She held his gaze for a second more, then exhaled.

  “I know. Me, too.” He got up and pulled her with him. There was no use wishing for what couldn’t be. She’d made up her mind. And any goodbyes they’d likely ever say to each other had been said last night.

  They plowed their way through the drunken crowd to the alley. Outside, the recycled air of the envirodome stank of ozone and sewage and the faint off-gassing of the ion plant that powered the settlement, but it was fresher than the fetid swamp of the bar they had just left. Sam took a deep breath, trying without success to expand his chest beyond a tight band of heartache and dread.

  He followed Rayna down the alley and out into a dimly-lit street, deserted at this hour and gritty with the fine sand that blew or was tracked in constantly from outside the dome. Filth lingered in the gutters, reeking and resistant to any efforts to flush it down the “storm” drains. Along the street a jumble of buildings leaned against each other for mutual support. Some had been constructed in the usual way from plasform bloc or durasteel framing. Most were just shipping containers with a hole cut here and there for entry and ventilation.

  They ducked down into the entrance to the tunnel that would take them under 200 meters of blasted, lifeless surface to the dome housing the dock facilities. The tunnel wasn’t empty—storage units lined the engineered walls, with guards posted at regular intervals to make sure no one found a home among the neatly stacked rectangles. Sam gripped Rayna’s arm now—part of their plan—and led the way. They didn’t linger, but emerged into the dock dome as quickly as they could get there.

  It wasn’t hard to find the block with the bar Daniel had mentioned. Bright neon seared the murk announcing “Alpha C—Ale and Syn.” Sam drew Rayna deeper into the narrow alley across the street, away from the light. She sank into his arms, and he held her close while the last precious seconds ticked away. There was nothing to be said, except with the touch of skin on skin, of warmth on warmth, no comfort except knowing she felt the same pain he felt. He drew back to kiss her, and it was all he could do to let her go again.

  But she was stronger than he was. When their brief time ran out, she turned from him and led him out of the alley.

  From that moment on they played their roles. He gripped her arm as if she would escape him; she tugged at him and tested him like a shackled criminal. By the time they burst through the door to Alpha C, some of the anger and frustration they were showing was real—and everyone in the place could see it.

  She snarled at him, and he threw her in front of him toward the table in the corner, where Daniel waited in full sight of most of the patrons. “I hope to hell you’re ready to take this bitch off my hands,” he announced when he got there.

  Daniel stood and made a too-obvious attempt to shush him. “Shut the fuck up!”

  Sam pulled out a chair for Rayna and forced her to sit. When she scrambled away, he grabbed her around the waist and planted her again, then reached for his stunner and stuck it in her ribs.

  “Sit!” He looked at Daniel. “You have restraints?” When the Pataran passed the nerve cuffs over, he linked her wrists behind her back. “Should have done this myself back on the ship, but I thought she’d cooperate, given her circumstances. Not like there’s any place to hide on this shithole.” He huffed. “That’s what I get for thinking.” He glared at her. “You know those get tighter the more you struggle, right, sweetheart?”

  She snapped at him with sharp, white teeth, then subsided into a sulk.

  Daniel exhaled loudly. “Portal’s balls! Are you done? You talk more than my mother! I’ll give you 300 credits for her and our business is finished.”

  “Three hundred? You can’t be serious. I hear the factory just lost a whole shipment of slaves. They must be desperate for labor, especially skilled labor. I’ll need a thousand at least.”

  Daniel laughed. “Not in a million circuits. You think they’re so desperate, you just march right up to the factory gates and try to offload your valuable merchandise directly. See how far you get.”

 
“Maybe I will.”

  “And maybe they’ll throw you both in the pit. I’m sure your XO is looking forward to taking over command of your ship.”

  Sam leaned forward. “They’d do that?”

  Daniel met him halfway across the table. “In a heartbeat.”

  The ’hawk’s captain sat back. “I gotta show a profit on this. She’s been a lot of trouble. And don’t tell me they aren’t looking for the help. Seven hundred fifty.”

  “Oh, they’re looking, all right. But if I show up with this bright-and-shiny right now, suspicion falls on me. Plus, she’s obviously either never been mindwiped, or she’s seriously resistant.”

  Sam grinned. “Which is it, sweetheart?”

  Rayna looked up from her supposed contemplation of a bleak future. “Fuck you.”

  “I’d say never been mindwiped and seriously resistant.” Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. “That makes her a liability, not an asset. Four hundred.”

  “She’s, uh, spunky. And strong! Six hundred.”

  “She’s stubborn. And mean. Four-fifty.”

  A sotto-voce hiss finished the negotiations. “She’s also sitting right here and can kick both your asses. Make it five hundred and shut up!”

  Sam and Daniel exchanged a quick glance of amused kinship before the full weight of the moment descended. The scene played out and much show was made of the “payment” of credits. Daniel stood and drew Rayna up with him, her left bicep held firmly in one large hand. She held Sam’s gaze as she rose to her feet. Then she turned and allowed her captor to pull her away.

  She didn’t look back.

  Sam lifted a hand to the harried woman running ale from the bar to the tables and soon had a flagon of dark synthohol and a shot glass in front of him. He touched the commpiece in his ear to hail the ship.

  Mo’s voice answered. “It’s done?”

  “Yeah. I’m on to the drowning-my-guilt part now.”

  “This was her choice, not yours.”

  “Yeah, and I just stood back and let it happen. That’ll be a great comfort when she winds up dead.”

  “Don’t go there, Cap. She was doing this long before she met you. She knows how to take care of herself.”

  Sam nodded and downed a fistful of the bitter synthohol. “Right. You’re right. She doesn’t need me. She’ll be fine. See? I feel better already.”

  Mo snorted. “I should come down.”

  “No. Somebody has to watch the ship.”

  “Kwan, then.”

  “Right.” He drank again. “I owe him a drink. Where is he?”

  “Dirtside. I’ll send him over. Where are you?”

  He wished he’d never heard of the place. “Alpha C. Near the docks. Tell him to get a move on. I’m drinking syn, and you know I hate that shit.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lainie waited in the alley across from the Alpha C, melted into the shadows so she was indistinguishable from the darkness as she’d learned to do long ago. No one saw her there as they went in and out of the bar. She, on the other hand, had seen everyone since Cap had gone in shoving Rayna ahead of him like some kind of criminal.

  The sight of it was like a lump of rancid meat in her stomach. What the hell was he doing?

  There had been rumors on the ship. Rayna’d been seen coming out of Cap’s cabin. People thought he’d taken a lover at last; they were happy for him. Lainie was secretly even happier it had been Rayna, someone who didn’t suck. But now this? This didn’t make sense.

  She kicked the pitted corner of the plascrete wall beside her with a scuffed boot and paced a tight, angry pattern in her pool of shadows. Fuck them both, anyway! What the hell is going on in there?

  Lainie still didn’t know what kind of impulse had made her sweet talk her friend in the D-Mat room into allowing her onto the shore leave party. Why in hell follow Rayna and the Captain down from the ship? Curiosity, yeah. More like suspicion. Or fascination. She just couldn’t help wondering what the woman was up to. And if Rayna got herself in another jam like the one she’d been in on the ship, Cap would have to pull her out of it this time. Might be entertaining.

  Lainie’d peeled off from the boisterous gang of her shipmates and caught up with the two of them as they made their way through the alleys to the first bar in the residential dome, then back to this dump near the docks. She’d lost track of them once or twice, forced to drop back out of sight, but she didn’t think she’d missed anything significant. If only she could make sense of what she was seeing.

  The door to the bar swung open and Lainie stared, thinking, Now, why would Cap pass her off to Mo? But the Pataran holding Rayna unnaturally close wasn’t nearly as tall as the ’hawk’s XO, and his skin was lighter. He was every bit as grim as Mo, though, his face drawn into a vicious snarl, his gaze alert for threats from any side.

  Shalssiti pultafa! She didn’t want to believe it, but there it was, as plain as the shit in the gutter at her feet. Cap had sold Rayna out. Maybe it was a deal gone wrong; maybe whatever Rayna had planned on LinHo got in Cap’s way. Perai, maybe he just needed the fucking credits. She never would have thought her captain capable of it, but the two of them had gone in that bar and now the woman she’d started to think of as a friend was coming out the prisoner of a bounty hunter. Lainie’s fists clenched in helpless rage at her sides. Her breath struggled to escape the band that tightened around her chest. And her heart—her heart wanted to break out of her ribcage and bleed all over the street.

  Rayna and her captor were disappearing around the next corner. If Lainie had any chance of helping her, she had to act. She took off at a fast jog, hanging far enough back that they wouldn’t see her, while still keeping them in sight. Street after street, turn after turn, she followed them, until it became horrifyingly clear what their destination was.

  “Shit, no, Ray, you can’t let him take you there!” The words came out in an angry, frightened hiss as she panted along in the shadows behind them. “Do something! You’ll be there soon!”

  She took a left through an alleyway and poured on speed, hoping to cut them off. The Pataran was big, but maybe with the two of them and the element of surprise, they could overcome him. He didn’t have a weapon trained on Ray—that was good. She saw the alley entrance up ahead, knew she’d be there ahead of them. She grinned and palmed her slith. Maybe this would work out okay.

  Then she heard the barest scrape of boots on pavement behind her, caught the flutter of movement in corner of her eye and before she could turn to see, felt the explosion of pain in the back of her head. Her knife slipped from her hand. And everything went dark.

  “Well, ain’t you in a sorry state. I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it looks like you’ve already had a few too many.”

  Sam raised his head from his hand and glared upwards. Fuck.

  “Drew Vort. I suppose I can’t avoid having you sit down.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Vort was human—mostly—but he’d had enhancements, both genetic and biomechanical, years ago when he’d competed on the underground fight circuit. The battles had taken their toll on the man, who moved slowly to sit. Still, Sam wasn’t fooled. Vort was as dangerous as he’d ever been.

  “What do you want, Vort?”

  “What? I can’t buy an old friend a drink?” He picked up the flagon from the table, found it empty, and signaled the bar girl with a massive hand. “You’re here. I’m here. LinHo is a garbage pit with few distractions. Why not take advantage?”

  Sam’s mouth turned up in a bitter smile. “Take advantage. You do that so well.”

  “Aw, come on, Sammy boy! I thought my help getting you here made us square.” The girl brought a fresh flagon of synthohol and a glass for Vort. He poured out two shots. “Let’s drink to it, hmm? No more old scores to settle, no more past hurts? You forget about that little deal gone bad on Alberon, I forget about . . . well, so many things.”

  Sam’s jaw went tight. The “deal” on Alberon had been a clusterfuck that cost
him not only credits but two crew members. That was after too many business ventures with Vort had ended up with the profit heavy on the fighter’s side.

  Sam left his glass on the table. “I can’t see where you’d have much to blame me for.”

  “No?” Vort’s smile showed a jaw full of shark’s teeth. “It seems we’ve become competitors, Sammy. Where once we were partners. We had a rendezvous planned in the Norian Sector. A business deal of mutual benefit. Looks like that won’t be happening.”

  “Had to take a little detour thanks to the shalssiti Grays. Wasn’t like I had a choice.”

  “Oh, we all have choices, my friend. How about I give you one now?”

  “It’s a free galaxy.”

  The big man laughed. “No, actually, it’s not. There’s a price on everything. The Rescue agent you smuggled onto LinHo, for example.”

  Sam’s breath left his lungs. He reached for the full shot glass and tossed it down his throat.

  When he’d recovered from the burn, he spoke. “What the hell are you talking about? I needed repairs to my ship. LinHo is the only dock within 50 parsecs.”

  “That’s true, but it’s not all the truth, Sammy.” Vort watched him from behind a smirk. “I have this place locked up—every barkeep, every alleyrat, every mech/tech with a crank habit. They all talk to me, Sam. I know your real business. What I don’t know—for sure—is whether you’ve still got your hands on the goods. If so, you’re in luck. Give the woman to me and go on your way. The Grays will pay me a nice bounty for her ass. If she’s already gone, I’ll take you instead. ConSys Intel would be glad to give me a high stack of credits for you.”

  Sam tensed, gathering his legs under him to make a run for it. Through the buzz of the synthohol in his brain he heard the whine of a laze pistol on stun close to his right ribcage. He turned to see the man holding it sitting in the seat behind him. A glance around the room told him Vort had plenty of backup ready to make sure he wouldn’t get out the door. He was just drunk enough to give one nanosecond’s thought to fighting anyway. The tight press of the pistol in his side finally dissuaded him. Alcohol and a Level 1 stun made an ugly mix.