by Nick Cole
“What?” Prisma exclaimed.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Leenah said soothingly. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’re safer this way.”
“No!” Prisma protested, struggling against the restraints. “I should be in the Crow with Crash and Skrizz and Rechs! I’m being kidnapped!”
Keel bent over and stuck a finger in Prisma’s face. “No! Kidnappers want to take their victims. I can’t wait to give you back!”
Prisma attempted to bite Keel’s finger, but the captain’s reflexes were too quick.
“You shouldn’t bite,” Leenah scolded her.
Garret waved his hands to get Keel’s attention. “Captain Keel, I saw Ravi perform without his TT-3 bots, and he appeared on the ship without them a few moments after we boarded. How—”
Keel waved him off. “You probably did a better job with the bots than you realized, and he was able to lose a few. He can jump from the bots to the ship in an emergency—don’t ask me how. So you’ll have to build some new ones.”
“I’m not sure there’s time—”
“I’m out of chit-chat time myself,” Keel said. He left for the cockpit in a rush.
Ravi was already in the cockpit, as expected. Keel dropped into the captain’s seat as Ravi guided the Six up out of its docking bay and into the sky.
A pancake-shaped light freighter moved in a straight line past them. It was old and beat-up, with a center-placed pilot’s cupola latticed in metal. Its engines howled as it lowered into the intersection near Skrizz and Crash. The remains of the basic platoon were advancing on their position.
“Let’s give them a little covering fire and get into orbit,” Keel said.
Climbing and then nosing the flight controls over and down, Keel moved the Six in position for a strafing run across the city. The belly guns sent bright blaster fire down the middle of the Repub-Army-crawling street like a runaway freight rig. Basics scattered to get away as the Six tore the sky apart with its howling engines.
“Okay,” Keel said calmly. “Let’s exit atmosphere.”
A beep sounded, accompanied by a flashing red light.
“Sensors read pursuit by a Republic buzzship,” Ravi said, his hands moving across the controls. “Engage?”
Keel throttled forward. “Let’s outrun. But not too fast. Don’t want them to lose interest and stick around for the wobanki.”
“You like this man-cat?” Ravi asked, one eyebrow arched.
“He’s got a certain reverse charisma,” Keel admitted. “Showing up to deals with a little crazy at your side never hurts.”
The Indelible VI roared through the cityscape, flying just above the roofline of lesser structures and through the enigmatic Repub skyscrapers erected in the name of pride and progress. The buzzship struggled to keep up, remaining just out of its effective range of fire.
“I am reading that the wobanki’s craft has lifted off,” Ravi announced. He looked at Keel. “But the ship is not making its way to orbit.”
“Probably picking up the old man,” Keel mumbled. “That’s their prerogative. Let’s get into deep space before the destroyers start showing up.”
With a blue flash, a chime sounded.
Ravi moved to answer the comm transmission. “I am wondering who this might be?”
Before the navigator was able to bring the call online, Rechs’s voice sounded over the cockpit speakers.
“Wraith. Follow the fast-attack cutter entering orbit north-northwest of your position. Don’t lose track of it under any circumstances. Goth Sullus is on board, and he needs to be taken down. I’m serious, kid, if I don’t make it out, the galaxy is about to go from bad to worse real quick.”
Keel rubbed his chin. “You know, I usually get half up front for this sort of work…”
“Check your account, kid. I pay on the handshake.”
Keel rolled his eyes and looked to Ravi as if to say, “Yeah, right.”
The navigator pulled up their off-moon account and let out a whistle. “I do not know how he so quickly determined your identity and the location of your account, but…” Ravi superimposed the account status in front of Keel as a target-alert warning howled and chimed urgently.
The captain’s jaw dropped. He swallowed several times. “We’re rich, Ravi. Rich rich. Buy-a-planet-and-retire rich.”
“Don’t wet yourself over all those new zeros in your bank account,” Rechs said. “It all ends up being meaningless in the end. Trust me.”
“Oh, sure,” Keel replied. He rolled his eyes at Ravi. He didn’t believe the old bounty hunter’s wisdom for a second. He muted the comm. “All right, Ravi, let’s hunt down the”—he read the ship’s readout on his monitor—“Siren of Titan. You’d better punch it if we’re going to catch up with that ship before it makes the jump.”
Ravi piloted the Six through the mesosphere. When they came within hailing range of the Siren, Keel didn’t move for the comm. “Let’s see if we can get close enough to attach our homing beacon to the hull without drawing any attention to ourselves.”
Ravi nodded. “We are just a harmless freighter looking to get away from whatever new mess the Republic brought to this planet.”
“Exactly.”
A streak of green blaster cannon bolts raced toward the Six, impacting in brilliant flashes of light as the ship’s shields absorbed the blasts.
“Not even a warning shot? Well, that’s just rude.” Keel banked hard to avoid further hits. He throttled to near top speed, only holding back what was necessary to get the beacon shot off.
The Siren’s turret-fire streaked behind Indelible; its targeting was unable to effectively lead Keel’s speeding ship.
“Detecting a core flush,” Ravi said, urgency in his voice. “They are preparing to jump.”
“Just a little closer…”
Keel barrel rolled the Six and fired the beacon on a best-guess trajectory. “There!”
Ravi’s fingers danced across the terminal. “Locked to hull. Reading is strong.”
The incoming fire ceased as the Siren disappeared into the folds of hyperspace, leaving the Indelible VI alone. Keel was surprised that no Republic ships had scrambled to intercept. Perhaps the Brotherhood had taken out their star ports?
“I am calculating likely trajectories.” Ravi pulled on his beard, pondering the data in front of him. “Wait… Something is wrong. I’ve lost the signal. Captain Keel I do not have enough data to draw a reasonable conclusion!”
Keel hissed in frustration. “Must’ve ionized their hull at the jump. Good way to take care of any homing beacons. Well, plan B. What’s the most likely planet from what you’ve got, Ravi?”
The navigator shook his head. “There are three hundred and seventy-two potential destination planets all within acceptable margin of error.”
Keel threw up his hands in exasperation. “Great. Just great.” He rested his chin on his fist and thought. A memory came immediately to mind. Mother Ree. “Tusca. Ravi, set a course for Tusca.”
“I am not showing that as one of the potential destinations.”
“It has to be. Back at the monastery… That old woman might be a lot of things, but she wasn’t wrong about much.”
“Yes, Captain. Course plotted for Tusca.”
Keel reached out and launched the ship into hyperspace. “We’ll want to jump short and make sure they don’t see us arrive.”
Ravi nodded.
Keel leaned back in his chair as rippling waves of folded space rushed past the cockpit window in ethereal shades of blue. “Ravi,” he said, tapping his chin with the steeple of his fingers, “did you salvage enough TT-3 bots to go off ship again? I could use your backup.”
“I am afraid not,” the navigator said. “We are back to the first square.”
***
With precision that no nav-bot could match, Ravi dropped the Six out of hyperspace. Another couple of seconds and they would auto-stop before striking the planet. Now they had two hours to prepare during the subspace
flight toward Tusca.
When the comm relay caught up with the craft, Keel scrolled through text messages and pulled up one from the wobanki. “They found our beacon. Should be about an hour behind us, unless they jump straight to the planet.”
“They are not so stupid,” Ravi said.
“No, they’re not.”
The comm chimed, and Keel frowned. “Lao Pak.”
“May as well get it over with.”
Keel brought up the pirate king on screen. Lao Pak immediately launched into an opening salvo of profanity. Keel listened silently, doing everything he could not to further aggravate the foul-mouthed pirate. Keel already had his money—now he just had to see about keeping the coder and maybe getting a little bit more.
Lao Pak finally seemed to notice that the conversation was one-sided. “You gonna say something back, or you too scared of me, ‘old friend’?”
“Look, Lao Pak,” Keel said, holding his hands out plaintively. “I’m sorry.”
“I knew you say that!” Lao Pak exploded. “I knew you say—wait, what you say?”
“I said I’m sorry.” Keel gave his best impression of an orphaned terro pup. “I promised a good friend that I wouldn’t steal his coder, and then I broke my promise. I’m sorry.”
“And you not answer my calls!”
“That, too.” Keel said. He held up a finger. “But I did listen to them. Wraith told the admiral that Prisma would be on Andalore.”
“Yeah,” Lao Pak said, making it clear that this was, to him, old news. “Admiral Devers there right now.”
“That’s the thing,” Keel said, his voice still hinting at repentance. “Maydoon was there. Now she’s on Tusca.”
“Tusca!” Lao Pak let out a new stream of vile oaths. “Why she on Tusca? That place nowhere.”
“I don’t know.” Keel added sarcastically, “Maybe Andalore didn’t have nice enough hotels.”
“Why you say ‘she’?” asked Lao Pak. “Maydoon a man.”
“The man’s dead. I tracked down his daughter, but trust me, this is who the admiral is looking for.”
Lao Pak considered this. “She pretty?”
“She’s a little girl,” Keel growled.
“She a pretty little girl? Gomarri will take her, you know? Pay extra. More money to split.”
“You’ll have to come get her yourself,” Keel said.
“Okay, focus on main thing. I call admiral, tell him go to Tusca.”
Keel gave an exaggerated nod, as if to a king. “That’s all I’m asking. Plus one other thing.”
“What thing? You no try double cross? Again!”
“No!” Keel protested. “We’re pals, remember?”
“Sure. I remind myself to remember.”
“I need you to tell the admiral that Wraith won’t be there to collect. Make it very clear that Wraith won’t be in the system. Tell him that Wraith took a job on the other side of the galaxy. Have him send the money directly to you.”
Lao Pak eyed Keel suspiciously through the holo screen. “Why you trust me with money? I could disappear. I not trust me with this much money.”
“Well I trust you, old friend. Besides, we both know Wraith would track you down and kill you if you crossed him. Just get it done, and the split can be sixty-two thirty-eight.”
“I get big part, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Lao Pak licked his lips. “You make bad deal. This easy work for ten million credits.”
Keel gave a half smile. “You always were good at math. That’s why I’m keeping your coder as part of the deal.”
Lao Pak opened his mouth to protest.
“Or the deal’s off,” Keel threatened.
The pirate king narrowed his eyes. “Fine. He not worth that much money. You stupid, Keel. Not like Ravi. He smart. But you, you stupid. You die one day of being stupid. Then I laugh, ‘ha ha.’”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Lao Pak.” Keel switched off the transmission.
“I am not seeing your plan in this,” Ravi said with a shake of his head. “We are filthy rich, yes, but you should not throw away so much money for no discernable reason. There are a number of charitable organizations that deserve these credits more than Lao Pak.”
Keel shrugged. “Admiral Devers needs to think Wraith is far away.”
“Why is this?”
“So I can kill him.”
27
Keel landed the Indelible IV just behind a natural bluff that overlooked Tusca’s main spaceport. He’d flown in low and quiet, taking advantage of the last fleeting hours of Tuscan darkness.
The ship’s jammers and stealth plating didn’t hurt, either.
Garret followed Keel out into the waning night and to a high point. Keel carried with him a long, black case with the word “Twenties” painted on the surface.
“I thought,” gasped Garret, panting, “we were going to fly atmospheric to the port and look around.”
“We are,” Keel said. “After this.”
He knelt down and opened the case, revealing an N-18 long rifle that looked as though it had seen more than a few battlefields. Keel began assembling the weapon, screwing on the barrel and attaching the interlocking stock and grip.
“What’s that for?” Garret asked, looking over Keel’s shoulder.
Keel looked up at the coder with a coldness in his eyes. “Killing. Always make ’em pay.”
“Oh.”
The rest of the sniper rifle was assembled in relative quiet. Even Garret’s heavy breathing had died down by the time Keel finished.
Lying on his stomach, Keel peered through the augmented scope and zeroed in a grand fountain at the center of the spaceport. “All about impressions, right, Devers?”
“Huh?” Garret asked.
Keel got to his feet, satisfied. “You finish up with those TT-3 bots?”
“I’ll have one of them done by the time we’re refueling in the starport. I just need to raid the mech-shop for a few parts. Ravi won’t be able to leave the ship until then.”
Keel nodded and headed back to the Six.
***
The scene on Tusca was nothing like Andalore. It was quiet here—ordinary. Apparently Sullus and his crew intended to keep a low profile. Perhaps the spaceport served as their base of operations?
True to his word, Garret had gotten a single TT-3 bot operating well enough for Ravi to join Keel off-ship. Even better, the kid had agreed to fly with Keel and Ravi for a while once the current job had ended. In fact, he’d jumped at the chance. Of course, that was after he’d heard just how much money Keel now owned. No sense leaving the company of the wealthy when you’re looking to get rich.
Keel leaned against a wall, soaking in the sunlight. Ravi stood at his side, crossing his arms and watching as the spaceport’s streets slowly filled.
They waited.
Five minutes later, Leenah appeared, holding Prisma by the hand. As they passed by Keel, the princess gave no indication she even knew who he was. Prisma, on the other hand, tried to kick Keel in the shins.
“You should put your kid on a leash, lady,” Keel called out to Leenah as she walked toward a breakfast café.
Leenah didn’t look back, but did make an ancient hand gesture telling Keel what she thought of his advice.
Keel laughed at the insult.
“You almost sound happy,” Ravi observed.
“Lots to be happy about, Ravi.” Keel used his foot to push himself off the wall and into the street. “C’mon, let’s take a look at things before Rechs shows up.”
“Or the Republic,” Ravi added.
“Especially them.”
Ravi strode at Keel’s side. After a moment, he said, “I am being very much convinced that it is unwise for you to carry out your plan.”
Keel stopped in the middle of the street, forcing pedestrians to pass him on either side, like an airstream moving around the hull of a ship. “I have very few regrets in life, Ravi, but letting
that…”
He realized his temper was rising, and people were starting to stare. He calmed himself and lowered his voice. “That miserable excuse for an officer needs to die.”
“Then why haven’t you killed him before?” Ravi asked.
Keel continued down the street. “Just drop it.”
“I apologize,” Ravi said, jogging to catch up.
“It’s fine,” Keel said, swatting away the apology with a wave of his hand. “You still have the docking bay number Garret gave you?”
“Yes. The Siren of Titan is making use of docking bays thirty through forty.”
Keel shook his head. “For the life of me I don’t know why anyone would fly something that requires more than one bay.”
“Presumably this is in order to fit all the many mercenaries accompanying Goth Sullus.”
“Yeah, I know, Ravi.” Keel smiled. “That’s why we’re rich now, though. We can get the job done on our own.”
They arrived at docking bay forty. A few Brotherhood mercs loitered about the entrance, apparently just passing the time.
“Wonder what they’re waiting for?” Keel said. “Let’s walk the length of the street and see what we see.”
He mixed in among the spacers and crew moving eagerly from dock to cantina. He was careful to dodge the wrecks who stumbled back drunkenly to their ships, all of them reveling in a promise kept—a promise to not quit drinking until day broke.
He caught glimpses of the Siren as he walked past each open bay hangar. The ship was surrounded by dockhands of various species, all of them working under the watchful eyes of some Brotherhood men. Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, if Keel hadn’t witnessed the chaos at Andalore, nothing here would have suggested to him that he was looking at anything other than a traveling guild, landing for repair and resupply.
And then he saw the legionnaires. Not the standard-issue, watered-down Legion of today. No. They didn’t wear the Republic’s “inspired” reflective armor. These men’s armor looked like Keel’s—only darker and without the modifications. It was a polished black, with red running from each shoulder epaulet down the arm in a bold stripe.
“Ravi,” Keel said, nodding toward the leejes. “What do you make of that?”
