by Tripp Ellis
Slade grimaced. “That’s a thousand jumps away from the nearest colony.”
“That’s not the only problem,” Harding said.
Slade arched a curious eyebrow.
“That last jump overloaded the quantum field generator. We’re stuck out here.”
Slade’s face was grim.
The Skylark drifted through deep space. With one conventional thruster they wouldn’t be able to make it to the nearest habitable planet within their lifetime. With only a handful of MREs on board, and little water, it was a death sentence.
3
ZOEY
“They can’t fucking do this, can they?” Zoey said. She was in a state of panic. Her eyes were wide. Her heart was racing. Her skin was clammy.
“They can, and will, do anything they like,” said Lieutenant Commander Catherine Kent. She was a JAG lawyer, and a damn good one. Behind those emerald eyes and fiery red hair was a pit bull of an attorney. Despite her tenacity, she hadn’t been able to save Captain Slade from a life sentence in a maximum security slam in some godforsaken sector of the universe. The deck was stacked against Slade from the beginning. But at least she had saved Slade from execution.
Zoey sat across the desk from Kent in her office. She read over the discharge letter one more time. She was crestfallen. “Involuntary administrative discharge. Fuck!”
“At least they classified it as honorable. You get to keep your benefits and the retirement you accrued.”
“Yes, but on my DD 214, the cause is listed as personality disorder. It’s bullshit. Everyone’s going to think I’m fucking crazy. I can’t get a job as a commercial pilot now. Law enforcement won’t take me. Customs and Planetary Protection won’t take me. I can’t fly emergency services. If I want to fly, it won’t be legally. I’ll end up smuggling or running merc ops.”
“Were you evaluated by a psychologist?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Zoey tried to recall everything that happened since the encounter with the Saarkturian fleet. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she scanned her memories, trying to remember the details of Slade’s court-martial and all the questions that were asked.
“We were all debriefed,” Zoey said. “Repeatedly interrogated about the events leading up to the terrorist attacks. I can’t remember everyone who grilled me. It all blended together after a while. This is about my deposition and testimony, isn’t it?”
“Probably.”
“It’s Rourke. That son-of-a-bitch is getting back at me. He’s getting me out of the way.”
“I wish I could say this was uncommon. But over the last few years, I’ve seen people shuffled around and discharged for no good reason at all. It’s typically all political.”
“They can’t get away with this kind of thing. Somebody’s got to do something.” Zoey was at her wits end.
“When you figure out a way, let me know. It’s a big, bloated bureaucracy. Ever since the new administration, it’s gotten worse.”
“Can’t we appeal this?”
“We can try. Take it before the review board. The most we can hope for is to get an upgrade and have the personality disorder removed. But I have to be honest, I’ve handled many of these cases, and I can tell you that less than 1% ever receive an upgrade. It’s not a real review process. They just rubber-stamp it.”
Zoey looked crushed. Her big eyes brimmed. “All I ever wanted was to serve and defend the Planetary Federation. I was the top of my class in Fighter Weapons School. I had an impeccable flight record. I was moving up the ladder, fast. I was on a path. One day, I was going to command my own starship.”
Catherine frowned, looking at Zoey with genuine sympathy. “I’ll prepare the paperwork and file a petition for an administrative hearing.”
“Thank you.”
“In the meantime, find a job, stay out of trouble, and don’t do anything stupid.”
It was like telling a bear not to shit in the woods.
4
ZOEY
“Two whiskeys, straight up,” Zoey said.
She sat at the bar next to 8-Ball. Lock’n Load was a seedy little joint on New Earth that was popular with officers and military types. The place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. There was a moderate crowd for a Friday night. The dull rumble of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air.
It was just off base and had a little something for everyone. There were 361 varieties of draft beer, and 283 types of liquor from across the galaxy. There were pool tables and dartboards. And there were plenty of young, available women looking for a strong military man. Some wanted company just for the evening. Some for a lifetime.
Baxter was almost always behind the bar. If you were a regular, he was the kind of guy who had your drink waiting for you by the time your ass hit the barstool. Though you’d never know it, he had eyes and ears like a hawk. He knew just about everything everyone was into. He was like a priest who had heard a million confessions, and his lips were sealed tighter than a bank vault. If you needed to make a connection, Baxter knew how to hook you up.
Zoey slugged a shot of whiskey down. It burned her throat and warmed her stomach, just the way she liked it. She motioned for Baxter to refill her glass.
“So, are you in, or are you in?” She arched an eyebrow at 8-Ball, waiting for a response.
“Look I think the situation is just as fucked as you do. But what you’re proposing is beyond batshit crazy.”
“Where is your sense of adventure?”
“I have a healthy sense of adventure. I just don’t have a desire to be charged with treason and spend the rest of my life in prison.”
“So you just want to let Captain Slade rot in some super-max?”
8-Ball slugged his shot down. He grimaced.
“Look, I’ve got it all worked out,” Zoey said.
8-Ball laughed. “Every time you say that, shit goes wrong.”
“You and I both just got the shaft from the very people we fought to protect. And I made a promise to Captain Slade.”
“You know I’d do anything for the captain, but I finally found a job driving loaders at the dock. Do you know how hard it is to find a job with a misconduct classification on your discharge papers?”
“Try finding one with a personality disorder.”
“Shit, you are a personality disorder.”
“Fuck you,” Zoey said, playfully.
“Is that an offer?”
She rolled her eyes.
Baxter filled their shot glasses. “This one is from the gentleman at the end of the bar.”
Zoey peered around 8-Ball to see a big oaf grinning at her, lifting his glass. He was a thick, meaty guy—maybe 6’5”, 280 pounds. She lifted her glass in return, and smiled half heartedly. She muttered under her breath before she slugged the shot down. “Help me. He looks like he fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.”
8-Ball snickered.
“Watch out for him,” Baxter said. “He’s trouble.”
“Put his next two on my tab. But don’t let him buy me any more drinks.”
“Aye, Commander,” Baxter said.
Zoey’s heart sank—she missed having the rank. Baxter’s salutation was a grim reminder that she would never hold any rank again. Her gaze turned back to 8-Ball. She could see he had been affected in the same way. His face was hollow and forlorn.
She pressed him further. “So?”
“So, what?”
“You’re not going to make me do this alone, are you?”
8-Ball glanced around to make sure no one was listening in on them. He leaned into Zoey and whispered in her ear. “Let me get this straight. You want to travel halfway across the galaxy and break Captain Slade out of a maximum-security prison?”
“Pretty much.”
8-Ball shook his head.
“You and I both know another attack is coming. And these idiots at JPOC have their head so far up their ass, it will be too late by the time they do something. It�
�s like they want to get attacked.”
8-Ball said nothing. He just stared at his shot glass.
“Slade got railroaded. We got shafted. Something has to be done.”
“You are out of control. I can’t even begin to list the number of criminal charges we face just by merely having this conversation, much less following through on it.”
“We wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Captain Slade. I’m not going to turn my back on her.” Zoey’s eyes burned into him. “Eddie Clark, I know you’re not going to let this injustice stand.”
8-Ball’s face was tormented. He couldn’t remember the last time somebody had used his real name. “So how do you plan to pull off this whole operation?”
“Like I said. I’ve got it all lined up.” Zoey nodded to a table in the corner. A crew of four guys and a woman sat in the shadows. “Baxter vouched for them.
8-Ball took one look and knew the type. “Mercs?”
“They’ve got a ship, weapons, and experience.”
8-Ball shook his head. “I know trouble when I see it. And they’re trouble.”
“Hey, have a little faith. I’ve done my homework. They check out.”
“I don’t trust mercs. Soulless vultures out for themselves.”
“The handsome one, Declan… he’s former Marine. Served two tours in the Krighton campaign.
8-Ball twisted up his face, a little jealous. “Handsome?”
Zoey rolled her eyes.
“Who’s the girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s cute.” 8-Ball eyed Zoey to see if she’d get jealous. She just arched an eyebrow at him and gave nothing away.
Violet was a stunner. Sculpted cheek bones, full lips, piercing blue eyes, and raven black hair. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, rather than with a crew of mercenaries.
Baxter leaned in and whispered. “I served under Slade in the first Verge War. I’d be the first one to go get her if I didn’t have a bad hip. I think it’s a shame what they did to her. I see a lot of types come and go around this place. You’re not going to find a better crew for hire than Declan’s. He doesn’t work with any slouches.”
Baxter subtly pointed out the individual team members. “That round one there is Mitch. He thinks he’s funnier than he is, but he’s a good tactical officer. Bit of a horn-ball, so watch out.” Baxter winked at Zoey. “The short mouthy fart is Brody. The big guy. That’s Jaxon. Special Forces. Operational Detachment X-ray.”
“Really? He’s X-Force?” Eddie sounded impressed.
“He comes in handy in a fight,” Baxter smirked. “Ain’t none of them saints. But they’ll get the job done. And as you know, it’s hard for some of these former service members to find good work if they’ve got bad discharge papers.”
Zoey sighed.
“Declan’s on the up and up. He’s been coming in here for years. He never drinks, and he’s all business.”
Baxter strolled down the bar, attending to other customers.
“So, are you in?” Zoey said, batting her long lashes at Eddie.
8-Ball looked into those big seductive eyes of hers. His heart fluttered a little. There was a reason Zoey had earned the callsign Boner. She was a damn fine woman. And very hard to say no to. “If I agree to this… and that’s a big if, how the hell are seven of us going to break her out of a maximum security slam?”
5
ZOEY
“75,000 credits upfront. 75,000 credits upon completion. Plus 75,000 in expenses,” Declan said. His steely eyes surveyed Zoey. He had a square jaw with about three days of stubble, piercing blue eyes, and unruly dark hair. He was a scoundrel, no doubt about it.
“Highway robbery,” Zoey said. She and 8-Ball sat across the table in a secluded corner of the bar.
“Find somebody else.”
“That’s double the other quotes I’ve received.” Zoey was lying. She hadn’t talked to anyone else.
“Really? Who are you talking to?” Declan was calling her bluff. He had a slight grin. There was nobody else that could, or would, do the job.
Zoey shrugged. “People.”
“Commander Bryant, I know everybody in this business. If you can find a better rate, and a better crew, I suggest you take the deal.”
“I can give you 35,000 upfront. 35,000 upon completion. And 75,000 in expenses.”
Jaxon scoffed. He was about to say something but Declan gave him the eye. Jaxon bit his tongue. Declan was the negotiator for the group.
“What expenses?” 8-Ball asked.
“We’re not going to break your captain out of jail,” Declan said. “Warden Carson is as crooked as a vandego’s tail. We’re going to buy her way out.”
“Maybe I should just save myself your fee, and buy her directly from the warden?” Zoey said with a little sassiness in her voice.
“Go ahead. Be my guest. Do you know the warden? Have you ever done business with him before?”
Zoey’s eyes narrowed at him.
“He won’t even give you the time of day. He’s not stupid.”
Zoey’s face tensed. She knew he was right. “50,000 upfront. 50,000 back end. 75,000 in expenses.”
“75,000 across the board or no deal.” Declan wasn’t about to negotiate. “This is a high risk venture. By the very nature of who she is, this will be considered a capital offense. We’ll all be looking at the death penalty.”
Zoey didn’t like it, but she had no choice. “Fine.”
Declan smiled. “It seems we have a deal.”
The two shook hands.
“Meet me at the Wright-Hammond Space Port at 0400.” Declan and the others stood up from the table. “Oh, and you don’t mind picking up our tab, do you?”
Zoey scowled at him as they left.
“How the hell are you going to come up with that kind of money?” 8-Ball asked.
“We’re going to rob a bank.”
“What?” 8-Ball’s eyes were wide. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
“I’m kidding.”
8-Ball breathed a sigh of relief. “You had me concerned for a minute there. I always knew you were crazy, but…”
“I had a little saved up… and I took out a loan,” she said, sheepishly.
“Who would give you a loan?” 8-Ball’s eyes narrowed at her, realizing what she must have done. “You didn’t… did you?”
Zoey’s attention had drifted back to the bar.
The big oaf was harassing another girl. She tried to get away from him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She slapped him and broke free of his grasp, then stormed out of the bar.
Zoey gritted her teeth.
“New Earth to Zoey?” 8-Ball said, trying to get her attention.
Zoey looked back at 8-Ball and shrugged. “I had no other choice.”
8-Ball shook his head. “Please tell me you didn’t borrow money from Fat Tony?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Have you lost your mind? The vig is 20% a week!”
If you couldn’t get a loan from a bank, or you didn’t have good credit, there was one place to go—Fat Tony. But it came with a steep downside. The interest was 20% a week, which compounded quickly. People hardly ever defaulted on a loan from Fat Tony. If they did, the results were rather unpleasant. He was one of the most notorious crime bosses of Nova York. Fail to pay back a debt to Tony and you might get a visit from Tommy Bats, or Freddy Two Fingers, or Meatball Mac.
Tommy Bats got his name because his favorite thing to do was break people’s legs with a Louisville slugger. He’d pretend it was the bottom of the ninth and the bases were loaded. He’d swing for the fence, and if he could crack a tibia and fibula with one swing, he’d consider it a home run.
If Freddy came to visit you, it was guaranteed that he was always going to leave with the money you owed him, or with two of your fingers.
Meatball Mac was a big meathead of a guy with fists like sledgehammers. He was
known to beat deadbeats until their face looked like a meatball.
Zoey was taking a huge risk. But that didn’t matter to her. She knew it was the right thing to do. “Relax. I’m not afraid of Fat Tony, or his boys. Captain Slade would put her life on the line for anyone of us. We’re lucky we are not right there with her.”
8-Ball knew she was right.
“We’ve seen the effects of Verge mind control first hand. How do we know they haven’t infiltrated the highest levels of government?”
8-Ball pondered this.
“All I know is that it’s a disgrace that Captain Slade isn’t in command of a starship. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to fix that. But she doesn’t deserve to rot in some hellhole.”
“What about Cameron?” 8-Ball asked.
“He’s still confined aboard the Devastator. I say we free Captain Slade. Then work on Cameron.”
Zoey was putting her life on the line, but she didn’t know Slade had already escaped from Alpha Ceti 7. Zoey and 8-Ball were about to risk everything for nothing.
Zoey looked up to see the big oaf that bought her a round of drinks hovering over her.
“What’s the matter, you too good to let me buy you a drink?”
“No. I accepted your drink, and bought you a round in return.” Zoey gave him a fake smile.
“You ungrateful little bitch.”
That was the wrong thing to say to Zoey. “What did you think, I was gonna drop to my knees and blow you because you bought me a shot?”
The oaf grinned. “You got the mouth for it.”
“I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that.” Zoey clung onto 8-Ball’s arm.
The oaf sneered at 8-Ball. “I call bullshit. This little pussy ain’t man enough to satisfy you.”
8-Ball clenched his jaw and stood up.
The oaf towered over him.
Zoey put a hand on 8-Ball’s arm as she stood up, trying to diffuse the situation. “Easy now, boys. No sense fighting over little old me. I can take care of myself.”
The words had barely left her mouth when she heaved a right cross at the oaf’s jaw. Her fist smacked the meathead square in the mouth. The impact rattled the bones in her fist. She had gashes in her knuckles from his teeth. It would have put anyone else on the ground. But it didn’t seem to phase the big bastard.
