by Skyler Grant
Dela waited until the conversation was done to say, “Golden wine. For the past year I’ve had nothing but swill to drink.”
“I thought Monk had pretty good taste in booze?”
Dela frowned. “So did he. Heathens, both of you.”
“Sir, that cargo you booked just got here. You need to see this,” Taki said.
“We’re in a hurry,” Quinn said.
“I know that, sir, still telling you that you need to get down here.”
“Run through the launch checklist and get us clearance,” Quinn said to Dela, before he headed for the cargo bay.
The cargo was girls. They were frozen in some sort of suspension containers, faces viewable through clear glass planes. Not a one looked like she’d left her early twenties, and all were stunningly and unnaturally beautiful in the way of Maiden herself.
Quinn and his crew weren’t slavers. If that was what this was, it wasn’t going to fly, but Quinn needed answers before he rushed into any hasty action. Quinn called Tamara.
“We need to go, Quinn,” Tamara said after making her way into the cargo hold. She paused at the sight of the containers, then quickly moved closer, looking through the panes as she tapped beneath her ear. “This is the cargo you picked up?”
“It is,” Quinn said. “Woman asking us to haul it assured me the cargo came with a death penalty. I didn’t ask any questions, given the fee. Is she smuggling slaves?”
“If she is, it is of a rare and special sort,” Tamara said, and after another twenty seconds of pacing shook her head. “I don’t think so, Quinn. When a body is engineered like this there are things you can do to make perfect slaves. Implants you can install that override willpower and can take over physical control. They don’t have them.”
“You have anything like that in you?” Quinn asked.
Tamara hesitated. “Yes, a subject for another time. I’ve contained mine as best I can, but it will ultimately be a problem for us. If I had to guess I’d say these were weapons. Diagnostics show scars on them consistent with physical trauma and nothing to do with sexual abuse.”
“That is a thing?” Quinn asked.
“Out here where lives are cheap? No, not usually. You do your own killing and your own dying. Deep in the Core? Yes. Where did your client want these taken?” Tamara asked.
“Aldonis,” Quinn said.
“Pastoral, deep Rim. Recent settlement, no data net. Your client? How was their security?”
“Double sensors, the second scan deeper than I expected. Set up in a brothel.”
“Great cover for an intelligence service. A pretty face can open a lot of doors. My guess? They’re past their prime, identified as killers and a price on their head. They’re being given a real retirement, not a “retirement”,” Tamara said.
“How certain are you?”
“It’s a guess, but a good one.”
They needed the cash, they needed the contact, and they needed to go.
Quinn hit the comm. “You can launch Dela, we’re clear.”
28
“We just going to leave them here like this, sir?” Taki asked, looking over the sarcophagi.
“I want anything you can learn on them by the time we make our next port. We’re not turning them over without a better idea what is going on,” Quinn said.
Tamara scowled. “That is easier said than done, if this is an intelligence agency we’re investigating. I’ll do what I can, Quinn, but I make you no promises.”
“Just do what you can,” Quinn said, before he headed back to the bridge. They were already off the ground by the time he arrived, pulling away from the station.
“Four different comms have come in, all insisting we standby for inspection,” Dela said.
Quinn checked the sensors. Things were already looking a lot different than when they were approaching the port. The Imperium ships more cloistered, and there were less merchant ships—and those that remained had doubled up on the frigate protection.
No, they weren’t the only ones who saw trouble coming. The entire system had gotten a whiff of it. “Don’t respond. I’m going to put us through a course between the fleets asking to board us. If they want to push their demands and start shooting, let them risk a fight by hitting the wrong target. Plot me an extended jump to Kol.”
Dela looked sick to her stomach. She still had yet to make an extended jump without consequences.
“Waste of good wine, Captain. Plotting the jump,” Dela said.
Quinn kicked the engines to full. No use camouflaging the fact that they were doing a runner.
Emergency lights on the consoles lit up, flashing red and demanding attention. Weapons fire. It wasn’t on them, or even on any of the other ships. One of the fleets had opened fire on the station, energy blasts tearing into the bottom torus where the critical systems were kept.
“What are they doing?” Dela asked, horrified. “Those are civilians!”
Quinn had a pretty good guess, not that he liked it.
“These ships are all here to protect their trade. I’m thinking someone did the math and decided they were out-numbered,” Quinn said.
Fleets were converging upon the craft that opened fire, shooting at it and in some cases shooting at each other. The merchant traders in orbit were as one doing what the Kathryn was already doing—turning to the Runestone and making for it at full speed.
Cruisers were headed there as well, exchanging fire with the frigates guarding the traders.
Quinn altered course to keep out of weapons range. A few diffused blasts from long distance headed towards the Kathryn. He didn’t bother to dodge. They wouldn’t do much more than warm the hull and scramble a few sensors.
A different light on the console flashed. They’d hit the outer limits of the Runestone. Dela was on it, slamming her fist down on the jump control.
Blue light rippled around and throughout the ship.
Quinn for a time was a beam of light journeying through the cosmos.
Then he was back with Kathryn, who didn’t die, but she wore Tamara’s face.
Quinn held a Jinx, far more elegantly dressed than he’d ever seen her and at least a decade older, sobbing helpless in his arms.
Quinn didn’t exist. He’d never existed, and then, for a brief time, he was a circle.
They came out of warp.
Dela gurgled in the seat beside him, a few dry heaves wracking her body and she desperately sucked in air.
Quinn rested a hand on her back. “You’re okay. You’re good. You’re back.”
Dela let out a sound that was part happy relief, part broken sob. Then came an awkward sort of gurgle before she leaned back in the sea. “I held it together.”
“Told you that you could do it. Got another in you? We should put some more space between us and whatever the hell’s that way,” Quinn said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Of course,” Dela said, shaky but determined as her fingers moved back to the controls. “Where to?”
Good question, Quinn wished he knew this part of the Rim better. Flipping through the star charts, there were a few options. Dexol was classified as an empty system, because the intended colony there had never worked out. That might mean it was the perfect place for a bit of quiet reflection, or it could also mean they’d be walking into a den of pirates they didn’t have a relationship with.
“We’re not headed for our programmed destination?” Dela asked.
“Not yet. Issue with the cargo we picked up. I want a place we can sit quiet while figuring out what is going on,” Quinn said.
“How about Kulo?” Dela asked, holding up her pad.
A stage two colony, they weren’t exactly scrambling for survival, and not particularly advanced technologically. The world was almost all water. Primary industries of algae farming and fishing, along with a decent tourism sector.
“You want to take a beach vacation?” Quinn asked.
“People aren’t going to be shooting the galaxy
apart to conquer an algae farming world. No system network terminal, so even if the news drifts in it will be secondhand,” Dela said.
Quinn’s tendency would have been to find them some place that was literally nowhere.
“We’re kind of broke,” Quinn said.
Tamara arrived and overheard. She said, “You’ve got a functional data hub, and we’ll be on a planet that doesn’t. Sending messages, the latest entertainment ... the first thing people on a vacation to get away from it all want is to contact home. And the locals will be keen to pay for access time too. My including that hub on this ship wasn’t entirely selfish.”
“You find out anything?” Quinn asked.
“No, but I think I have an idea what strings to tug on. I’m going to need a few days somewhere quiet and the beach sounds perfect,” Tamara said.
It was Quinn’s call, but it was obvious what the crew wanted and he didn’t have any objections.
“Kulo it is. Another extended jump, I don’t want to take any chances on being tracked.” Dela gave a weak smile before she put in the new course.
Another dizzying session as the universe remade itself around them, and several hours afterwards they were in orbit around Kulo. There was no station. From the planet there were several transponder codes for different ports.
The largest was on a landmass making up one of the planetary poles. So much as the planet had a center of trade, that was it. The city itself was mostly dedicated to refining the algae and packaging it into nutrient supplements to ship off-world. It was also where the bulk of the tourism was centered. There was even a hotel.
Another settlement was on a largely deserted island chain, used by small ships for scientific expeditions.
The last outpost was on an equatorial island chain, a number of tiny settlements.
Quinn still wanted quiet more than anything else. The last choice offered the best hopes of that and he set the destination. Two hours later, with the sarcophagi safely tucked away out of sight in a smuggling compartment, they had a loading bay swarming with people. Deeply tanned locals wearing little, if any, clothing and constantly sunny smiles.
Tamara had been right again, damn her. Upon learning the ship had a data connection they’d been swarmed with offers. Melody was already loading the freezers up with fish and fruits in trade. Their unique family arrangements hadn’t raised any issues. The locals were easy-going folks, more than happy to even offer them space in their homes.
“Don’t trust people this friendly. Something is wrong with them,” Kara said, looking at the crowds suspiciously. There was no adopting the local dress code for her. She was in her armor with a rifle across her back.
“Probably,” Tamara agreed, eyeing them with equal skepticism. For her part she’d raided Quinn’s closets once again for a white bikini. It set off her skin perfectly.
Dela had skipped clothing entirely. With her deep tan and a flower now in her hair she blended in with the locals surprisingly well and was getting frequent hugs after helping people find the data they were looking for.
“Volunteering to stay on the ship then?” Quinn asked Kara.
“Hate the ocean. Back home we have this fish that fly up out of the water, latch onto your face and inject psychotoxic venom. People would come back and try to kill their clan. Had to burn them off, nasty stuff,” Kara said.
Tamara said, “I’m staying anyways. I need to research. You, however, have a house on an isolated cove. Very romantic, Jinx will love it.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes at Tamara. At times it was almost as if she’d done all this to set him and Jinx up. But then at the same time she just kept doing more to bash her way into his life.
Quinn had no doubt it would be perfect. That was part of what made it so troubling.
29
The sun was setting, the sky green and gold overhead in a brilliant spectacle. Days and nights were short here, each lasting about six hours. The locals were on a schedule of two sleep cycles daily, each about four hours. Quinn wasn’t even going to try to emulate that.
“Wow,” Jinx said, squeezing his hand.
They were walking to the cottage they’d secured in exchange for a data chip filled with holovids popular back in the Core.
Jinx had half gone in for the local style, a sarong around her waist, but she was otherwise topless. Her skin was so pale you could see the intricate network of blue veins beneath her full breasts, at least if you stared.
“This was a good idea,” Quinn said.
“I’m happy to just not feel we’re on the run for once, even though I know that is exactly what we are,” Jinx said with a flash of a smile. “I guess you’re probably used to that though.”
“We’re not always on the run.”
The path rounded a bend and before them opened up a cove. Cliffs lined either side, and the small cottage was perched alongside a white sand beach.
“Why do you do it? I feel like I don’t have much choice, not right now, but you? Did you pick this?” Jinx asked.
“Grew up wanting to be a paladin. Pursing justice across the stars and righting wrongs where I found them. Back like the stories of the First Imperium,” Quinn said.
“I love those. Part of the reason I decided to study history,” Jinx said. “The Paladins might not exist, but there are still knights.”
“Met any knights? I’m sure there are a few decent ones, but they’re only as good as the lords they serve and there aren’t many of those worth knowing,” Quinn said.
They saw the cottage was quaint as they drew near, a small garden circling it filled the air with the scent of flowers and the roar of the surf was a constant backdrop.
Dim lights lit as they approached. At least there was electricity.
“You could have tried,” Jinx said.
“Did, one year as an Imperium Marshal on Laosa. I’ve never seen so much corruption in all my time of being a criminal as I saw in that year of trying to be the law.”
“Quite a change to go from that to running a starship freighter. How did it happen?” Jinx asked.
“Kat and Ice were pulling the whole steal from the rich and give to the poor shtick at the time. I was sent to arrest them and wound up joining them instead. Ship was Ice’s at first, won it in a poker game,” Quinn said.
The cottage wasn’t luxury, but still thoroughly pleasant. The bed was a tangled mass of pillows and blankets on the floor, all seemed clean.
“I want to see the beach,” Jinx said, and grabbed at Quinn’s hand tugging him back towards the door.
“So what about you? I don’t really know your story,” Quinn said.
“Rich, but not pampered. My family might have lost our titles, but we came through with a lot and built on it after our fall. But there is tragedy. Always tragedy. We’re descended from the greatest failure in the history of the Imperium and we all, every single one of us, know our day is coming.”
“Being betrayed isn’t a failure,” Quinn said.
“Of course it is. A good leader isn’t betrayed, and if they are, they’re ready for it. Opalia wasn’t, and she had a history of being cruel but fair,” Jinx said.
This was the most he’d ever conversed with Jinx.
“What do you think of Tamara?” Quinn asked.
“Back when you pulled off your rescue of us, do you know that it was me who figured out what was happening? I overheard a servant saying that he thought I’d be happy the duke intended to put me in a pretty cage and fill me with his baby. Tamara, I thought she must know—how could she bring me so far and not? I told her I forgave her, I loved her, and I thanked her for seeing me there safely,” Jinx said, turning wistful.
Quinn hadn’t heard this side of things before.
“What happened?” Quinn asked.
“No weapon, just her hands—and she killed six guards. Killed them almost before I could blink, a punch to the throat of the first and then she had his stunner. There were a dozen surrounding her, they just kept stunning her, kickin
g her, and she wouldn’t stay down,” Jinx said, pausing at the edge of the surf. “I finally had to beg her to stop fighting. And to make sure that you and your people were safely gone. I didn’t want her or anyone else to die for my problem.”
No, Quinn definitely hadn’t heard this side of things before. Quinn had never seen Tamara even carry a gun, much less give any indication that she was capable of violence. Well, not quite. That time in the shower she’d blocked his every move when he thought he was under attack.
“She kept her word,” Quinn said.
“And you came anyways. You all came anyways,” Jinx said, and turned to face him. The last greens of the sunset were fading behind her, although her eyes and their blue luminescence was a faint constant. They were captivating, and strangely intimidating. There was magic there.
Quinn said, “I ask because of tonight and our family in general. I have the nagging sense it is all her wanting to set us up. You and I, specifically. I wondered what you thought about that.”
“Tamara is probably going to die, Husband. It will likely be soon. She is a brilliant, lethal weapon and she is off her leash, and war or no war she is not going to be allowed to stay that way. You’re a man with a streak of heroism in a galaxy lacking such men, immensely loyal to those he loved and loves. Of course she wants us falling in love. She hopes you’ll stand by me when she’s gone,” Jinx said.
This was far different than her usual carefree tone. Calculating, intelligent, considered, and she’d called him “husband”. It wasn’t wrong, the Centauri was many things and one of those was a marriage. Quinn technically had six wives, each of whom had one husband and five wives. It was still the first time anyone had used the term.
“I don’t know if her motives are that altruistic,” Quinn said.
“Of course, she plans more. I could be an Empress from the First Imperium and you could be flying a First Imperium ship. The Centauri is from that era. If you’ve noticed, all the clothes she bought are inspired by it.”
Insightful, rational.
