by John Bowers
Mean Streets
They were halfway to their destination when two men suddenly barred their way. Nicola gasped at the sight of them. Nick had no time to react as the closer of the two swung a fist into his left cheek, rattling his teeth. The second man stood a couple of feet behind the first, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Both men looked rough, like dock workers.
Nick took a step back to recover his balance. His hands clenched into fists.
“Did you have something in mind?” he asked his assailant, “or did you just want to say hello?”
“Gimme your money!” the man said.
“Who said I have any money?”
“You’re a tourist, aren’t you? Tourists always have money.”
The voice was guttural, but the English was flawless. Nick detected no trace of an accent.
“Who are you working for, pal?”
“I work for myself. Gimme your money.”
“Come and take it.”
Nick set himself on both feet, ready to do battle. He wasn’t quite prepared for what happened next—the man in his face whipped out a laser pistol and jammed it practically under his nose.
“I won’t tell you again! Hand over the cash.”
Nick stared at him for a brief moment, then glanced at the second man, who hadn’t said a word. He was glaring back with laser-eyed intensity. Nick took two steps back and dropped into a half crouch. He waved his arms in front of him like a holo-vid karate character, narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, and released a cat-like howl.
“Ooooooooooooo-wah!”
The man with the laser stared in disbelief, then burst out laughing.
“What the fuck is this! Who do you think you are, Sing-Sing Lee?”
Nick moaned and waved his hands again. His assailant only laughed louder.
The second man did not.
Nick dropped his hands and stood up straight.
“Okay. You’ve got the gun. What do you want?”
“I told you. Give me the money.”
Nick sighed and pulled out his wallet. He stepped forward and handed it to the gunman. For just an instant, the man’s attention was diverted to the wallet, and Nick made his move. This time it wasn’t a joke—with his left hand, he grabbed his opponent’s gun wrist, shoving it to the side, then jammed two fingers of his right hand into the second man’s eyes. As Number Two fell back with a cry of pain, Nick slammed the heel of his right hand up under the gunman’s chin, snapping his head back with an audible crack! The man dropped like a stone and Nick wrenched his weapon free. He shoved it into the second man’s face, almost too late.
The second man, more alert than the first, had drawn his own weapon and was swinging it toward Nick.
“Drop it!” Nick ordered. “You have two seconds. One…two…”
“Fuck you!”
Nick fired.
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NICK WALKER, U.F. MARSHAL
Asteroid Outpost
Sirian Summer
Rebel Guns of Alpha Centauri
Bounty Hunter at Binary Flats [FTL Press]
Gunfight on the Alpha Centauri Express [FTL Press]
Manhunt on Tau Ceti 4 [FTL Press]
Assassin on Centauri B [FTL Press]
Revolt on Alpha 2 (coming this winter)
STARPORT SERIES
Starport
Guerrilla Girl
Famine Planet
Prisoners of Eroak
Occupy Eroak! [FTL Press]
THE FIGHTER QUEEN SAGA
A Vow to Sophia
The Fighter Queen
Star Marine!
The Fighter King
The Sword of Sophia
Nick Walker, United Federation Marshal
Assassin
at Centauri B
by
John Bowers
A Faster Than Light eBook
Published by John Bowers
Copyright 2017 by John Bowers
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by John Bowers.
You are granted a non-exclusive license to this work. You may make copies or reformat it for YOUR OWN USE ONLY. You may not resell, trade, nor give this work away.
Created in the United States of America
First Publication: September 2017
Cover by Howard Milligan
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the imagination of the author and any resemblance to any real person, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Acknowledgement
I would like to thank Capt. David Sperry, senior pilot for Hawaiian Airlines, for his assistance in writing the airline crash scene. Capt. Sperry, in addition to ferrying passengers all over the world, is also a science fiction author. His novel The Pouakai is the single most terrifying account of alien contact that I have ever read. I highly recommend it to science fiction fans. You can find it here.
Chapter 1
Saturday, March 21, 0448 (Colonial Calendar)
Periscope Harbor – Beta Centauri
At first glance, it looked like an accident.
It was a beautiful tropical night in Periscope Harbor, with a gentle offshore breeze at six knots. A couple of miles back from the harbor, thousands of homes slumbered in quiet repose; the downtown area, right up to the harbor’s edge, glittered with light and, although most businesses had closed for the day, bars and nightclubs were throbbing with life. The harbor was brightly lit, but calm, a dozen cargo ships and hundreds of pleasure craft tied up at their moorings.
The airport was not designed for commercial air traffic. Mountains ringed the city on three sides and air space was tight, leaving little room for maneuver. Whoever planned the city—if indeed it was planned at all—had jammed the airport into a corner, right up against the base of a six-thousand foot mountain, making Periscope Harbor the most difficult and dangerous airport on the planet.
The airliner approached from the north at five thousand feet, half a mile out to sea. As it reached the outer marker, located on Petreykin Island at the mouth of the harbor, it executed a forty-five degree right turn and began a controlled descent toward the middle marker at a rate of nine hundred feet per minute. Flight path rules dictated another forty-five degree turn at the middle marker, located only two miles from the runway, and a final descent rate of twelve hundred fpm to arrive at the hash marks.
Everything looked normal. The airliner was the only thing in the sky, and without competing traffic, should have made a perfect landing without incident. The pilot made the first turn on schedule and dropped his flaps fifteen degrees to lower the airspeed, then lined up on the middle marker and prepared for the final approach. As it crossed the middle marker, the plane made its final turn, lined up the runway, lowered the landing gear, and lowered flaps to thirty degrees. Flashing red and white strobe lights marked its passage.
Without warning, the big plane’s engines lost all power and the starboard wing dipped; for a dizzying ten or twelve seconds the pilots tried to restart and stabilize the aircraft, but the rudder failed to respond and the plane continued its right-hand turn, slipping and wobbling as lift and airspeed fell away at a dangerous rate. The last transmission from the plane was a frantic Mayday, and then it hit the mountain a half mile from the runway. The explosion was bright and spectacular, though few people actually saw it.
It looked like an accident, and even after investigation, might have been written off as mechanical failure or pilot err
or…except for one thing—
The Federation ambassador was on board.
Chapter 2
Saturday, March 28, 0448 (CC)
Suzanne Norgaard Park, Trimmer Springs – Alpha Centauri 2
Nick Walker wasn’t fond of crowds. In his youth he had always been up for a party, especially during his time in the Star Marines, but over the years his enthusiasm for the beer bash had waned. As a United Federation Marshal, he now viewed large crowds as opportunities for criminals to ply their trade. Even though the pursuit of common thieves was not his mandate, experience dictated that his eyes were roving most of the time.
Today’s event was hardly a beer bash, but it was a festive occasion. The park in the center of Trimmer Springs, across the street from the church, had been decorated with bunting and balloons; picnic tables were piled with food and at least two thousand residents had turned out. It was Founder’s Day, the ninety-third anniversary of Trimmer Springs.
The speeches were over. Mayor Robinette had delivered a brief history of the city. The founder’s granddaughter, Mildred Trimmer, and a number of other prominent citizens had delivered speeches. The school band played, balloons were released.
Fireworks would begin at dusk.
The rest of the day was devoted to games and family fun. Children swarmed the two-block-long park, the younger ones chasing each other, older kids trying their luck at arcade games that had been set up for the day. Everyone grazed at the tables of free food supplied by local vendors. Here and there a city cop stood watch.
At the east end, directly across the street from the church, two blond women stood at the official entrance to the park. Rising out of a stone foundation with a small fountain at its base, a four-foot redwood sign proclaimed in engraved letters:
SUZANNE NORGAARD PARK
“When did they do this?” Victoria Cross asked. “I didn’t even know the park had a name.”
Kristina Norgaard-Green stared at her mother’s name on the sign and responded in a low, somber voice.
“About a year after she was killed. Before that it was just called Center Park.” She reached into her purse for a tissue and dabbed a corner of her left eye. “The mayor wanted to name it after Nick, but the city council felt they should have his permission first, and nobody could find him. Then someone suggested they name it after my mother instead.”
Victoria laid a hand on Kristina’s shoulder.
“I’m glad they did. Nick would never have agreed to naming it after him, and in any case, he already has a statue.”
Both women shifted their attention to the bronze monument twenty yards away that depicted a Star Marine with a sniper rifle.
“And he isn’t too pleased about that,” Victoria added. “No way he would have agreed to this.”
Kristina nodded. She gazed at her mother’s name a moment longer, then pulled her attention away. She took Victoria’s hand and led her past the entrance and under the trees.
“How is Nick doing?” she asked.
Victoria looked surprised. “You haven’t talked to him?”
“I’ve only seen him a couple of times since you guys got back from Tau Ceti. I got the sense that he doesn’t want to tell me very much. I think he’s trying to protect me.”
Victoria nodded.
“He’s coming along. He took your mother’s death very hard. It almost destroyed him.”
“He did seem more relaxed the last time we talked. I’m glad he has you.”
Victoria stopped walking and turned to face the younger woman. Kristina was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Although she was born on Sirius, her mother had been a native of Vega 3, a world that had genetically engineered its population for physical beauty. Kristina had inherited the genetics and was absolutely stunning. Victoria, herself a beautiful woman of thirty-two, felt almost ugly standing next to her.
“I think that’s part of Nick’s reluctance,” she told Kristina. “He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s replacing your mother with me.”
Kristina’s mouth popped open.
“Oh, goddess no! I would never think that! I know he loved my mother, and she was crazy about him, but—he still has his life to live. Mother would never want him to live the rest of his life in her shadow.”
“I know. Deep down inside, he knows it, too. But…”
“I need to talk to him.”
Victoria squeezed her hand.
“Don’t be obvious about it. Pick the right time.”
Kristina nodded. She studied the older woman’s face.
“And how are things between the two of you? Do you have any plans?”
“No. Our agreement is to take it one day at a time.”
“Because of me?”
“No. Well, maybe a little, but that’s not the main reason. Nick and I have a lot of history to overcome.”
“You knew him before. I think Mother mentioned something about that.”
“Years ago. When we were in boot camp together.”
“What happened?”
Victoria Cross gazed across the park at the mingling crowds and heaved a deep sigh.
“A lot of things. He went to war, I didn’t. We drifted apart.”
Kristina’s eyes narrowed as she studied Victoria’s expression.
“You never stopped loving him.”
Victoria’s cheeks pinked and she smiled. She shook her head.
“No, I never did. I love him more now than ever.”
“Then I’m glad you found each other again.” Kristina glanced around, scanning the crowd. “Where is Nick, anyway? He was supposed to meet up with us.”
*
Half a block away, Nick Walker entered the park from a different direction. At his side was a twelve year-old boy named Mijo. Mijo was dark of complexion, his hair bushy and shiny black. Nick had met him on Tau Ceti 4, a street kid with no family and no documentation. Mijo had been helpful in taking down the perp Nick was hunting, and when the smoke settled, Nick brought him back to Alpha 2. There had been a couple of immigration issues, but with the help of attorney Victoria Cross and the U.F. Marshal Service, they had been ironed out.
“So how you do you like school?” Nick asked as they strolled toward the colorful crowds that swarmed the park.
“It’s good. I like it.”
“How are your grades?”
“I need to work on that.”
“What about Kristina? You getting along okay with her?”
Mijo grinned. “Yeah, she’s good. ¡Muy bonita!”
Nick laughed. Mijo was only twelve, but was already developing an eye for the ladies.
“Just keep in mind that she’s ten years too old for you.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s too bad.” He grinned again. “She’s a great cook, though.”
“Yes, she is. She learned that from her mother.”
“I would still rather live with you.”
“I know, kid. I’m working on that, but it won’t happen right away.”
“Why not? You and me did okay on TC4.”
“You need a stable environment, at least until you’re a little older. With my job, I can’t provide that right now.”
“Why don’t you marry la rubia? Then, when you’re off on a job, I could stay with her.”
Nick grinned as the breeze washed over his face. Mijo had taken to Victoria the moment they met.
“That may happen, but we’re not ready just yet.”
“Why not? You love her, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I love her, but…it’s complicated. We’re working on it.”
Nick laid an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. They were approaching a group of families eating at picnic tables. Young children were running and laughing nearby. Suddenly, Nick heard a series of squeals and turned to look. Four little girls, probably between eight and ten years old, raced toward them, yelling at the top of their rather shrill lungs.
“Mijo! Mijo! Mijo! Mijo!”
“Mijo!”
“Mijo!”
They slammed into Mijo like a solarball line and almost knocked him down. Nick stepped aside as the girls began tugging at him, still shouting.
“Come on, Mijo! Play with us! Mijo! Mijo!”
Nick grinned as Mijo threw him an exasperated look. The girls began to circle him, dancing and shouting.
“Looks like you’ve made some friends,” Nick told him.
“Yeah, the little kids like to pester me.”
“I can think of worse ways to be pestered. Go on, have fun. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Hell, you’re only young once.”
With a grin, Mijo let the girls grab his arms and drag him toward the picnic tables where their parents sat. Nick watched with a grin, then lifted his eyes and began to scan the crowds in search of Victoria and Kristina. As he turned in a half circle, his eyes narrowed at the sight of two men striding in his direction. He might not have noticed them except they stood out like solar flares. He didn’t recognize either one, but knew without question what they were.
Government agents.
They were wearing dark suits, black mirror-shined shoes, sun blinders, and buzzed haircuts. One had an implant sticking out of his ear and a quick glance at the cut of their jackets told him they were packing. He turned to face them and stood waiting as they walked right up and stopped two feet in front of him.
“Are you Nick Walker?” the taller one asked. He looked about thirty-five, with dark hair, blue eyes, and no apparent sense of humor.
“I think so.”
“United Federation Marshal Nick Walker?” The second man was an inch shorter, ten years younger, and blond; he tried hard to look intimidating.
Nick pointed to the badge on his shirt.
“According to this, yes.”
The taller man produced a leather case and popped it open, displaying his own badge. The shorter man followed suit.
“FSS.”
“FSS?”
“Federation Security Service.”
