Sabercat (Tommy Reilly Chronicles Book 1)

by T. L. Knighton

  Slowly and carefully, they swept the rest of the ship. Tommy removed the bug in his cabin—privacy was essential for him—but they decided to leave the other two. Knowing where they were was power. Instead, they placed signs warning that the bugs were there. Nothing subtle either. Tommy wanted it to be impossible to forget the blasted things were there. It's not like they planned on leaving the ship empty again.

  The next morning, Adele returned in time for a meeting. Everyone hated these, but they'd also agreed to this one today, so complaining should be kept to a minimum. The fact that they were using the cargo hold was odd, but it was clean and that was important.

  "What did you find last night?" Adele asked.

  Tommy filled her in on the details

  "Now," Tommy said, trying to draw everyone else's attention, "you all know what we found last night. Hatcher and his goons are trying to keep an eye on us, which is unsurprising. The bugs are good, apparently, which kind of is."

  "Yeah, this is high dollar Earth tech. Not many in the colonies can afford this," Cody offered.

  Tommy nodded. "He's right, of course, which means Hatcher is either better connected than we thought, or else he's just more loaded than we thought."

  Harley said, "Well, doesn't he own a gold mine? Literally?"

  "No," Dianne said, "he doesn't. He just runs it. It's owned by Biermann Industries."

  Tommy rolled his eyes. "Great."

  "What?" Cody asked.

  "Biermann Industries," Michelle said, "is not owned by anyone named Biermann. It's owned by the Sowards family."

  "As in Senator Sowards?" Harley asked.

  Michelle nodded.

  "Yep," Tommy said. "So now we see why he's so motivated. It also means that Sowards probably knows what we're going to Armstead to get. Whether that means we won't even make it to the planet or not…"

  "We'll make it," Dianne said. "They need the gold dirtside. They play like they don't need anyone, but they have almost no precious metals. They need them badly enough, they'll let us land. Getting off the planet though?" she asked with a shrug.

  "One problem at a time though," Tommy said. "We know they're listening, so small talk only around the bugs. Don't even try screwing with them until I give the okay."

  "Right," Harley said. "We need to present a believable narrative. We can't do that if everyone's laying out their own crap. They'll figure out pretty quickly that we know they're listening, and that takes away our advantage."

  "So talk about the usual stuff. Sooka about being stuck on this planet if you want. But nothing else without my okay. Got it?"

  Cody chuckled. "What about getting Adele to give us a play-by-play of her night last night."

  The pilot glared at him. "What about I kill him and find you a new engineer, captain?"

  "Easy," Tommy said, "both of you. Right now, we know the plan. Stick to it. Michelle?"

  The computer expert answered with a look.

  "Is there any chance they have your system tapped?"

  Michelle looked up at him, as if she were looking over the top of her glasses, and made him instantly regretting the comment. How dare he insult her like that.

  "Okay," he said, "just asking."

  He looked around at his crew, plus Dianne. She wasn't crew, but she mattered. Maybe almost as much. All of this was riding on him, and that was…interesting for him. "Alright everyone. Let's get to it."

  ** ** **

  Across town, a group of men huddled around several receivers, headsets on and datapads in front of them. In the corner, a man sat at a computer, typing away at the keys. His job was to access the Sabercat's computers remotely. Unfortunately, his job was all but impossible to do since the firewall on the system was apparently impenetrable.

  Hatcher walked in and looked around, Roscoe at his side.

  "Impressive," the big man said.

  Roscoe smiled. "Thank you, sir. We do try."

  "So I can get regular reports?"

  "Absolutely, sir. How often do you want them?"

  Hatcher considered for a moment, then said, "Morning and evening. Also, I want to know immediately if anything happens immediately."

  "Of course," Roscoe said automatically.

  "And they can't know about these?"

  Roscoe shook his head negative. "Not unless they have a signal detector of some kind, and that's not exactly something they carry on your average freighter. However, we're also keeping an ear out for signs that they might have been discovered."

  "Such as?"

  "Well, a lack of conversation, for one. For example, if we're not hearing anything at all is a clear sign that they know."

  "None of that then?"

  "Only from Reilly's cabin, and that one was a bit of a crapshoot in the first place."

  "How so?" Hatcher asked.

  "Well, it's possible that he just doesn't conduct much business in his cabin. Plus, the way he had it laid out? I think he just sleeps and changes clothes in there and not much more."

  Hatcher nodded, feigning his understanding. Roscoe had seen this a thousand times from his employers. They figured never let someone know you don't understand, otherwise they might insist on you understanding with a lot of words that you don't understand.

  "What about when they leave the ship? I want to know every move these jerks make," Hatcher asked.

  Roscoe nodded. "We've got manual eyes on them. More than enough to tail every member of the crew to make sure they can't shake anyone. We're also tied into the surveillance cameras around town. If they fart, we'll know."

  "And Ringo's?"

  Roscoe cringed slightly. He'd been afraid Hatcher would ask that one. "We're going to have to do it the old fashioned way. Something about Ringo's always kills signals."

  Hatcher slammed his fist against the table Roscoe sat at. "Don't give me any chafing excuses. Make it happen!"

  "Yes sir, we will. We're going to. We just have to use our people and be smart about it. That's all."

  Roscoe tried not to meet his boss' stern glare. Ultimately, Hatcher would calm down and understand what was beyond them and what wasn't, but the man's temper was quick and he held grudges until they died of old age.

  "You'd better," Hatcher said.

  ** ** **

  Dark brown boots clipped along the lowered hatch as Tommy made his way down. His eyes skimmed the surroundings. He forced himself not to focus on the gaggle of muscle just outside the gate. He stifled a smile as his feet hit dirt.

  He walked out the gate and headed toward Ringo's.

  Along the way, dozens of merchant tents had been pitched, creating a sort of bazaar like many places on Earth had hosted in centuries past. One could be almost anything here, including the illegal, but only if you knew where to look. Or so Tommy had been told.

  From time to time, he stopped and turned as if to look at a merchant's wares. Oh, he couldn't have bought anything, he knew that. He half expected the merchants knew it too.

  From his peripheral vision, he saw three men – goons, really – ducking into a merchant tent.

  Tommy smiled at the sight, but only slightly. One he'd identified as a goon just walked past him. Still looking out the corner of his eye, he saw the man stop at another stall further down the line.

  Great. This one's not a complete idiot. Either that or I'm completely wrong on that one, Tommy thought.

  After a quick thank you to the merchant followed by a turn, Tommy continued along his way. He paid special attention to the minion – as he tended to dub smart goons – and noticed a slight shift as Tommy entered the other man's blind spot.

  The dance continued as Tommy made his way to Ringo's.

  Tommy entered the bar and nodded to Walker, the owner, then shifted his glance to the left. Walker merely nodded.

  After sitting at his usual table, Tommy watched as the goons entered, then scattered all around the tavern. Tiffany, the waitress, made her away to each of the goons, asking what they wanted to drink.

  Ea
ch man ordered something without alcohol, and Tiffany went on her way to fill their orders. Tommy couldn't help but feel a grudging appreciation. They might not be pros, but they tried to conduct themselves as such.

  A chair across from Tommy was pulled back and an unfamiliar face looked back at him. Coppery-brown and weathered, with high cheekbones and solid black hair and not a hint of facial hair, he looked like something out of an old western…just usually on the "wrong" side.

  "You're skipper of the Sabercat, right?" the newcomer asked.

  Tommy gave the other man a single nod.

  "Conway Reynolds," the man said and held out his hand.

  Reluctantly, Tommy shook it.

  "I'm captain of the Winter Born. I heard you guys got shafted on a load," Reynolds said.

  Tommy sighed. "Something like that."

  "Well, I've got a line on a load that's a bit more than I can handle and I don't want to make two trips. I'd be willing to split it with you, if you're interested. If you're not, I'd be willing to buy you a meal and see if I can convince you to be interested," he said.

  Just as Tommy opened his mouth to decline, Reynolds glanced over his shoulder, first at one of the goons, then the stairs leading up. He then returned his eyes to Tommy and flashed a look.

  "Well," Tommy started, "for a free meal, I'm willing to let you try and sell just about anything. Doesn't mean I'm buying though."

  "Fair enough. All I'm asking is for a fair chance."

  "Like you said, fair enough."

  Reynolds stood up, then looked at Walker. "We're gonna take the upstairs to talk a little business, that okay?"

  Walker nodded and said, "Need Tiffany to stop up there?"

  "Sure do," Reynolds said.

  The owner nodded again as Reynolds made his way toward the stairs. Tommy followed.

  The goons shot one another looks, eyes wide in panic. Tommy felt a tiny bit of sympathy for them. He was going somewhere they couldn't follow. He just wished he had a clue why he was doing it.

  The stairway was tight and steep, something built as an afterthought rather than as part of the original design. Still, he managed to fit through it easily enough as they made their way to the room at the top.

  A rough wooden door swung open just ahead of Reynolds. The other captain stepped into the room and then to the side, allowing Tommy to enter.

  "Good of you to come. You can speak freely here. There's a jammer here and has been for a while. Good one too," Max's familiar voice said.

  Tommy let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

  "Sorry about that," Reynolds said. "We know Hatcher's boys were tailing you. He's not a very trusting sort."

  "Yeah, I got that," Tommy replied. "Can't say I'm usually trusting enough to have come up. It's been a rough few months for me and mine."

  Reynolds nodded. "I've heard. You really riled up someone powerful from what I've picked up."

  "Where did you pick that up?" Tommy asked. It wasn't common knowledge after all.

  Max smiled and sat at the lone table in the room. "Well, Conway here doesn't do just the legal jobs, if you catch my meaning."

  Tommy nodded slowly, "Pirate or smuggler?"

  "Smuggler," Reynolds replied without a hint of remorse. "I provide products people want in places too preoccupied with telling people what they can and can't do. Pirates though? If I could get away with arming up Winter Born, I'd start hunting 'em for sport."

  Tommy chuckled. Piracy was generally not considered honorable work, even among those with a fairly low bar for such things. Like smugglers. "I'd probably do the same thing."

  "Yeah, I bet. Quite a few folks bragging how they're going to collect that scalp."

  "Quite a few have tried. They're all still hoping and dreaming," Tommy replied.

  Max interrupted their discussion. "Captain Reynolds does a lot of work with us on various things. Unfortunately, he can't take things to Armstead in the manner we need."

  Reynolds nodded, mumbling something about "stupid warrants".

  "Well, right now, we don't have anything to take anywhere," Tommy replied.

  Max nodded reluctantly. "This is true. Unfortunately, the offer Conway offered is as well."

  "Huh?" Tommy said eloquently.

  "Well, I figure you can't lift off empty, right?" Max asked.

  Tommy nodded.

  "So we figured out a way to compensate you for your time."

  "We haven't given up on the original job," Tommy said.

  Max nodded. "I understand that. However, it's in a secure facility and you're under surveillance. Our inside man with Hatcher's crew says they've got you covered in every way possible. What else can you do?"

  Anger coursed through Tommy's veins, but he fought to keep it out of his voice when he said, "Nothing is impossible. This guy, Hatcher? I know his type. Been around them my whole life. I never liked them, even when I was the guy people read about on gossip vids. I'll be damned if I let him win."

  The other two men shared confused glances for a moment, then Max looked at him and said, "What do you mean, 'his type'?"

  Tommy laughed mirthlessly. "Hatcher acts like a player, right? Wears the clothes of the elite, even has their med procedures done to him. He's nothing. Nothing at all. He wants to pretend he's connected with the Clans, but he's not. Never will be."

  Reynolds asked, "They're that closed off?"

  Tommy shook his head and said, "It's not that. He's trying too hard. When someone gets raised to the Clans? It's because they're irreplaceable. They earned it and did it without pretension. The Clans had sycophants, and Hatcher's nothing but a sycophant. He won't get in."

  "Him cornering the gold mine here won't do it?" Max asked.

  "Nope. It was a good move, and one that won him some praise. If he'd been smart and kept his head down, he might have been invited to the dance, but he didn't."

  "That's all fascinating," Reynolds said, "but it doesn't get the gold in your cargo hold."

  Tommy sighed. "No, it doesn't."

  A gentle knocking on the door pulled their attention away from their discussion as Tiffany poked her head in. "Gentlemen?"

  "Steak for these two," Max said. "Nothing for me. Try and sneak me up a beer in a bit, can you?"

  The waitress nodded and headed out.

  An awkward silence descended on the trio for a long moment before Max finally broke it. "So what are you going to do?"

  Tommy shrugged and said, "It's your stuff, right?"

  Max nodded.

  "Well then, we're going to get it back and take it where you want it."

  Reynolds chuckled and said, "You make it sound so simple. How do you figure? You're legit, right?"

  "More or less," Tommy said. "But my crew has interesting skill sets they've picked up here and there."

  Another pause, then Tommy said, "Don't worry. We'll get it."

  Chapter 9

  Dianne watched as Tommy walked back onto the ship. A quick glance toward the hold told him she wanted to talk, which didn't surprise Tommy in the least.

  They quietly made their way down to the hold, where she turned and asked, "So?"

  "Max was ready to call it, but I think I convinced him to let us at least try."

  She nodded, her face looked like a battlefield of emotions.

  "Hey," Tommy said. "I'm not quitting on this."

  She nodded again, tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. "I said you don't owe me," she said, her voice quivering.

  He shook his head. "It's not about that, alright?"

  "I just wish I understood why. I get what you've said, but everyone's telling you how you don't have to. I just don't understand why you're still doing this."

  Tommy just looked at her. "He threatened my crew. That means he made it personal for me."

  Steps on the metal floor pulled his attention away from her and up toward the catwalk they sounded from. Harley looked down on the two of them.

  "Yeah?" Tommy asked.

&n
bsp; "They think they've got something," the big man replied.

  Tommy and Dianne exchanged a hopeful glance before turning back to look at Harley. "Don't get your hopes up," the first mate said.

  "Why not?" Tommy asked.

  "Everything needs an inside man. No way we can figure it out without that."

  Dianne said, "We could ask Max. He's got people tied in just about everywhere."

  "Geez," Tommy muttered, "What is he? An activist or a resistance leader?"

  She looked at him for a long moment before saying, "Do you really want an answer?"

  Tommy considered for a moment, wondering what he'd gotten himself and his crew into, and not for the first time. It didn't take long to remember one overriding fact: Hatcher annoyed him and he wanted the man pulled up short.

  "We're going to need more than that from his end anyway," Harley said. "We're going to have to talk to him either way. Without any of this, we're not touching that load."

  "Alright, have Cody make sure the bridge is clear again, then we'll give Max a call and see if he can help us out."

  ** ** **

  Max Wyatt stared back at Tommy through the quancom. Tommy could feel the crew behind him, their unease seeping through his skin. The dark face opposite him seemed to bore through into his soul.

  "You're serious?" Max asked.

  Tommy nodded once, forcing himself to show confidence in the plan.

  Wyatt considered for a moment, then said, "I can pull off most of the rest, but your inside guy? No can do."

  "You're sure?" Tommy asked.

  Wyatt nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. They bring them in from off world from what I can tell. Not much I can do there."

  Tommy cursed under his breath.

  "Sorry, I know you guys are trying, and we all appreciate it, but without someone who can put an inside guy in off world and then get them shipped here…"

  Eyes widening, he jerked his head and looked at Harley. "You think…?"

  A slight smirk crossed the other man's face as he replied, "Can't hurt."