Now they sat on a private stretch of beach away from the main bustle of the White Star’s public swim area. Jesse and Kym relaxed on lounges near the waters edge, Kym covered in her hotel robe and large straw hat under an even larger umbrella, reading from her datapad. K’Tran and Podo were sitting in a small skiff in the center of the lagoon, trying their hand at sailing. Trying and failing, Jesse thought, since even from this distance he could hear them arguing. And Morogo—
Morogo sat far behind them, on a lounge on the opposite side of the walkway that led back to the resort. Like Kym, he was also reading from a datapad, but would look with nervous agitation to the water every few minutes, as though fearing the placid lagoon waters would come rushing up at him at any moment. Jesse shook his head. The Vor’na’cik’s fear of the water could sometimes border on the ridiculous.
As for himself, he was content to sit back in his lounger and do nothing. The last six months had been a hectic blur of one hunt after another, sometimes tracking down leads on one hunt while actively pursuing others. He wanted nothing more than to lie back, enjoying the warm breeze off of the lagoon and perhaps fall into a blissful sleep.
The only problem was, the events of earlier that day kept coming to mind every time he closed his eyes. The look of distress on the face of the young, would-be assassin as they dragged her off haunted him. Her screams of protest still rang in his ears. He killed my father, she had cried. Had she meant that literally? A man of Boke’s means had people enough to do that if he so wished. Was her father killed by accident, or at Boke’s instruction? Or was the girl using the excuse as a cover for a more sinister explanation for attempting to assassinate the most powerful man on the planet?
The questions plagued him. He would have to inquire of Boke at dinner that night. If Boke was not forthcoming, he would continue looking, whether it pleased their host or not.
His introspection was cut short by the shrill sound of metal grinding on metal. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, he spied three craft gliding by at treetop height over the far shore of the lagoon. The rear craft was lagging some distance behind the others, random puffs of dark smoke issuing from one of its engines.
“Capissen Thirty-Eight ore tenders,” Kym commented from beside him. She had lowered her solar specs to get a good look. That Kym could identify the type of craft was no surprise to Jesse, but the fact that she could deduce the make and model of the craft from this distance did. “Surprised anyone still uses them. They fall right out of the sky.”
“Thought tourism was the only industry on this rock. All of Boke’s propaganda claims that his industries are as low impact as possible. Mining doesn’t exactly fall into that category,” Jesse said.
Kym’s slender fingers were dancing across the keyboard on her pad. Within less than a minute, she had found what she was looking for. “Says here that before Utopia was acquired by Boke Industries, it was a colony planet noted for a small but particularly pure vein of Tydrium Thirteen. Supposedly Boke bought the planet not long after and all the colonists retired very rich and relocated. The vein ran dry not long after.”
She looked up as the trailing ore carrier belched another puff of smoke and dropped a few meters in altitude. They both held their breath as they thought the craft would take a sudden nose dive into the trees, but it soon righted itself.
A sudden shout and splash drew their attention away. The skiff K’Tran and Podo had been attempting to sail had capsized, and the two of them were now yelling at each other over who was to blame while trying to pull themselves out of the water onto the hull of the overturned boat. By the time Jesse looked back up, all three of the ore carriers had disappeared from view.
“Could be they were repurposed for some other job,” Kym said with a shrug, pushing her glasses back up. “Can’t think of what, though. Capissen’s were notoriously task specific. Retrofitting them would be more expensive than buying new equipment.”
She turned back to her reading. Down at the waters’ edge, K’Tran and Podo were struggling back to shore, dragging the skiff in their wake and still arguing. From further back, Morogo continued to watch the water with suspicion.
Jesse knew now that any attempt at relaxation would be futile. More questions flooded through his train of thought. Some small voice in the back of his mind was telling him that the ore carriers, the supposedly closed mine, and the young assassin were somehow connected.
He was now looking very forward to dinner with Arigh Boke tonight. He had questions, and he was determined to get the answers.
Chapter Nine
The sky over Valhalla City was changing from a warm pink to a more subdued violet as the sun settled behind the distant mountains, and each building lit up with colors of their own as Utopian nightlife began to kick into full swing. The city took on a fantasy-like quality, enhanced by the twin rings of light generated by the hundreds of starships in orbit waiting for their chance to descend to the surface.
Jesse watched the display from the living area of their White Star suite, the entire wall of which was floor to ceiling window running the length of the two-story room. Gotta admit, despite what one might think of Boke, he knows how to impress.
The suite and room were only part of the impressiveness. Boke’s stylist had returned half an hour earlier with the outfits created especially for each of them. While Jesse was never intentional about fashion, he had to admit that he did like what the stylist had come up with for him. The dark grey suit with blue collarless shirt beneath fit him perfectly and moved fluidly with him despite the snug fit. Jesse checked his reflection in the glass. Good enough for Gentleman Bounty Hunter’s Quarterly. If there was such a thing.
One of the bedroom doors on the mezzanine above slid open, and Jesse knew who it was without turning to see. K’Tran stomped down the staircase, grumbling under his breath with each step.
“You look lovely,” Jesse said, turning to face his friend, fighting back a grin.
“Look like a damned dancing monkey,” the older man growled, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. “Don’t like feeling constricted like this, and the jacket’s so damn form-fitting I can’t wear my holster under it.”
“It’s dinner. Not usually a contact sport.”
Before K’Tran could answer, another door opened and Morogo and Podo stepped into the living area. Morogo was dressed in a mustard and green vest with black piping and matching breeches. From the look on his face, he seemed pleased with his outfit. And Podo—
Now it was difficult for Jesse to stifle his laughter. As was typical, the Warwick went without clothes, but his white, brown and black fur was meticulously washed and groomed, and so fluffed that he looked twice his normal size. “You look like a toasted marshmallow,” he quipped.
Morogo snickered, looking away from Podo to avoid the death glare the Warwick shot his way.
Jesse checked his chrono, noting that it was about time for them to leave. “Kym,” he shouted up the stairs. “We’ve got to go!”
From behind her closed bedroom door, the Starhawk’s engineer called back, “I am not going!”
As though this evening isn’t going to be awkward enough. “What’s wrong?” Jesse called back, trying to put genuine concern in his voice, knowing it just sounded annoyed.
A long pause before she answered in a voice leaden with misery. “I look ridiculous.”
“Can’t look any more ridiculous than him,” K’Tran replied quietly, tossing a thumb over his shoulder at Podo.
“Hey!”
Jesse took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. “I’m sure you look fine. You’re a Tyrannis. There’s no way you can look bad.”
There was silence for almost a full minute before the door to Kym’s room slid open, and another few seconds delay where Jesse thought she would change her mind. At last, she stepped into view with an air of stubborn determination, approaching the railing.
Jesse’s breath caught in his lungs. He had known his engineer since they were both kids
in Intermediate school, and had always thought she was a pretty girl, though she did her best to hide her looks. She was happy to play the tomboy while her younger sister Lohren took all the compliments as the beauty of the family.
There was nothing tomboyish about her now.
She wore a shimmering, pale-blue floor-length gown that wrapped around her, emphasizing the womanly figure she always kept hidden beneath her coveralls. Her long, red hair, usually tied up or stuffed under a cap, hung loose around her shoulders, shining and silky after the stylist’s assistant had washed and thoroughly combed through it. There was no engine grease to be seen anywhere on her exposed skin, which the gown showed a considerable amount of.
Beside him, Jesse could hear the others staring up at her. K’Tran let out a soft whistle.
With slow, somewhat awkward steps, Kym started to descend the staircase. Jesse met her halfway. Her cheeks were flush with embarrassment at their reactions. Jesse reached out and took her hand. He could not help but smile when he said, “You are most definitely a Tyrannis girl.”
She looked away, her blush deepening, unable to meet his eyes.
Jesse turned to the rest of them as he escorted Kym down the stairs. “Well, let’s not keep our host waiting.”
***
The area around the Starhawk’s landing pad was quiet now that the main thrust of incoming traffic had subsided for the evening. A few pedestrians wandered about, most of whom were probably on some errand of questionable means, but so long as their activities stayed far from the main tourist areas, Utopian Port Authority left them alone.
So it was that Julian Godfrey and the four other individuals crammed into the cab of a utility groundtruck made little impression on anyone still wandering the streets. The truck slowed to a halt in front of the crew access door to the Starhawk’s hangar. Godfrey climbed from the driver’s seat and slid to the ground as one of the men in the back seat assumed his position. Walking around to the back of the truck, he found Vixta already opening the hatch to the truck’s cargo bay. Rhasti leapt out, followed by a wiry, dark haired Harkonian woman Godfrey knew only as Mynx.
Vixta looked around the side of the truck, then down the other way, indicating that the street was clear. They moved to the access door, Rhasti pausing at the access panel and indicating for Godfrey to get to work. “This could still take a few minutes,” Godfrey said, kneeling before the panel and running through the various diagnostic screens. “Port customers still input their own security code, but port authority has ways to get around it, in case of emergencies, unpaid docking fees, and the like.”
“Less jabber, Godhead and get the door open so I can do my part.” Mynx growled, shooting nervous looks down both sides of the street as she toyed with a type of weapon Godfrey had never seen before.
“Mynx is our droid expert,” Rasti explained. “She’ll be able to shut our target down without so much as marring its pretty paint job.”
“Paint job is anything but pretty,” Godfrey muttered as he passed through the second encryption sequence. A few more keystrokes and—
With a squeal of under-lubricated guide rails, the door slid open. Everyone stayed clear to one side of the open hatch, while Mynx peeked around the doorframe before surreptitiously slipping inside. The rest followed in short order, darting into concealment behind the tydrium storage tanks off to one side.
The hangar was dark, the only illumination coming from intermittent light panels running at half-power, casting the ship in dim silhouette. Faint amber light could be seen through the bridge viewport, probably coming from illuminated panels on the darkened bridge. There was no sign of movement anywhere.
“Everrrything appearrrs serrrene,” Vixta mewed, as she surveyed the scene through a pair of night-vision glasses. A beep from the viewer as she switched settings. “Not rrreading any active defense systems.”
Rhasti nodded in satisfaction, starting to rise. “Then we go.”
Godfrey started to rise as well when he caught the slightest flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. He grabbed at Rhasti’s jacket, halting him and drawing him back, just as the source of motion emerged from around the far side of the ship.
It was the SKR guard drone on patrol. The drone hovered out from beneath the ship, paused as it swept the area before it with its visual scanners, then drifted back beneath the wingtip and resumed its patrol.
Mynx reached down, grabbing a thumbnail-sized piece of durocrete from the ground near a damaged section of wall. Leaning around the storage tanks, she flicked it with a thumb in the direction from which the drone had appeared. The durocrete pebble pinged against the Starhawk’s wingtip cannon and skittered into the darkness. Before the sound had faded, the drone’s two lamplight eyes appeared from the shadows on the far side of the ship as it hurried back to investigate the sound. It moved with more caution than before, twin stun beamers extending from the underside of its saucer body. It paused as it neared the spot where the pebble had contacted the ship, then appeared to search the area for the source of the sound.
Mynx shot Godfrey a wicked smile, then boldly stepped out of hiding around the side of the storage tanks and raised her weapon to her shoulder. The drone turned at her approach, then seemed to jump back in surprise. It extended its stunners just at the moment that Mynx fired, the weapon giving of a strangely suppressed whump as electrical tendrils leapt forward, engulfing the drone which let out a stunted electronic bleat and crashed to the ground, its “eyes” dark.
“Now’s our chance. Go!” Rhasti hissed, and raced across the landing pad to the ship, the rest of them following close behind. Approaching the secured ramp, Vixta plugged an encoder into the lock controls, ran a series of slice codes, and had the ramp dropping in less than a minute. Mynx scrambled in first, followed by Rhasti. Godfrey followed next, with Vixta bringing up the rear
It did not take long to find the EXC droid. As predicted, it stood on the dimly lit bridge, running through a diagnostic screen, information scrolling by so fast that only a drone could comprehend it. It turned upon hearing the bridge hatch slide open, and unlike its SKR companion, betrayed no surprise at the presence of armed strangers. It cocked its head to one side. “May I be of assistance to you beings?”
“Yeah,” Rhasti said, moving aside to allow Mynx room. “You’re working for us now.”
If the drone intended to reply, it never got the chance. Mynx fired a hip-level burst from her weapon and the drone went still.
Vixta pushed in and slung the drone with ease over her shoulder, quickly leading the way back out. “You see, Julian?” Rhasti said, smacking Godfrey on the shoulder just hard enough to sting. “Piece of cake. No one’s hurt, and we got ourselves a top-flight procurement specialist to aid in sending Arigh Boke and his goons straight to the gates of Hell.”
They hurried off the ship, not bothering to secure the ramp. As they vacated the hangar and Rhasti assisted Vixta in lifting the drone into the back of the truck, Godfrey stopped to close and reset the hangar access door.
Peeking back into the hangar just before closing the door, Godfrey spied the SKR unit, still inert on the ground, but its photoreceptors beginning to glow once more. The two seemed to stare at one another for a long moment before the door squealed shut.
“You all right?” Rhasti asked as he helped Godfrey climb into the back of the truck as it started off down the street. “You look a little paler than usual. This little caper didn’t bother you, did it?”
“No.” Godfrey answered, though even he did not think he sounded convinced. “It was the damnedest thing. That guard ‘bot looked to be coming back online just as I was shutting the door. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that thing recognized me.”
Rhasti gave him a raspy laugh. “Just post-op nerves, my friend. Even if it was coming back online, there’s no way all its systems could have been functioning enough for its databanks to make a match.” Rhasti turned and moved through the cargo hold to the climb back into the cab.
&nbs
p; Godfrey grabbed a cargo strap on the wall to steady himself as the truck took a corner. He still felt chilled. Despite Rhasti’s assurance, Godfrey knew the drone had marked him. He had seen that look from others too often in his career.
The drone had glared at him.
Chapter Ten
“Braised Ku’Veti Sea Bass,” Arigh Boke announced as live servants, not drones, set plates down in front of Jesse and his friends. “Shipped in live from Ku’Vet Seven and harvested just moments before preparation. Ordinarily toxic to most beings, but my chef is one of the few in the galaxy who knows how to prepare it.”
Should be Arigh Boast, Jesse thought, though he did admit that the entrée did look and smell incredible. The table held enough food to feed a small army. The glassware, each filled to the brim with imported goortberry wine, was Harkonian crystal, and Jesse was pretty sure that the cutlery cost the equivalent of a small hovercraft.
As impressive as the meal and settings were, the view was even more so. Boke’s members-only lounge atop the White Star was floor to ceiling glass walls on three sides. The cityscape of Valhalla City filled the entire view on one side, and the lagoon and forests—dark now, the treetops frosted in the icy light radiating down on them from Utopia’s moons—on the others. The twin rings of starship running lights now looked like bands of glittering jewels encircling the planet.
There was small talk while they ate, the polite kind that was attempted when people of vastly different cultures were forced together. The meal was as incredible as it looked, and the compliments to the chef filled some of that small talk.
As the main course ended, Boke leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window to the cityscape beyond, idly swirling the contents of his glass around as the servants hurried to refill glasses before they went dry. “Difficult to believe that less than a decade ago, this planet was little more than an undeveloped frontier world.” Boke said with a dreamy air to his voice. “Look at it now. The jewel of the galaxy. Nothing else even comes close.”
The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation Page 6
