Star Streaker Boxed Set 1 (Star Streaker Series)

by T. M. Catron

  The air teemed with flying vehicles and, at higher elevations, spacecraft. Abel lowered the ramp of the Star Streaker, and the crew walked out to meet the inspectors. Foul air offended their nostrils, and the crew had to resist the urge to cover their noses against the stench. The planet smelled like burnt rubber. The entire atmosphere had a reddish brown hue, and what they had originally mistaken for fog looked more like smoke.

  A team of three uniforms ascended the ramp, meeting Rance halfway. Farther away, armored guards stood watch over their section. They all bore the trident, hammer, and sparrow insignia of Empire Triton.

  Rance nodded to the man who stepped forward.

  “What is your purpose for landing on L-58c?” he asked without preamble.

  “We’re couriers looking for work.”

  He looked Rance up and down with a shrewd eye. “Any illegal animals, substances, weapons, or fugitives?”

  “No, sir.” The lie rolled off her tongue. Nope—no fugitives other than Rance Cooper. Unity considered her a fugitive; Rance did not.

  “Any other crew aboard this ship?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Any reason you don’t want us to search your ship?”

  “No, sir.” Rance frowned, confused by the question. Then, she realized the man must have a ZOD similar to hers, and was registering her heart rate, checking to see if she was lying. Rance wasn’t a compulsive liar, but she had told this lie too many times to count.

  If the man wanted a retina scan, Rance was doomed, but he didn’t request one. Instead, he motioned for the other two to enter the Star Streaker.

  While they searched the ship, the first man called out a long list of things they couldn’t do on L-58c, or anywhere in the Cronus system. They were allowed stunners only, no armor, no long knives. Only Imperial Credits were allowed for payment. Any other bartering had to be cleared through the Port Trade Office. All gambling had to be licensed. All gamblers had to pay—

  The man paused his monologue, turning his head slightly as if someone were speaking in his ear. Then he turned his attention to Rance. “Who owns that armor?”

  “My security officer. I thought it wasn’t a problem as long as he didn’t wear it.”

  “See that it stays locked up for the remainder of your trip. What about the weapons?”

  “For protection during journeys. We only use them for self-defense.”

  “When was the last time you used them in such a manner?”

  “Once or twice. I’m sure it would be unusual for me to say ‘never.’ But we try to avoid such confrontations. Like I said, we’re couriers.”

  The man’s mouth formed a hard line. “Answer the question, please.”

  “Two years since we last had to fire. And then it was only in warning.” It was true. When the crew had faced the mercs a few days ago, they hadn’t fired on anyone.

  The man nodded curtly, and put his handset away. “Looks like everything is in order. You have a planetary pass that will expire in thirty-two hours. At that time, you may apply to stay longer for a fee, or you may leave. Whichever you choose, you must submit to another inspection before departing. If you don’t return for the second inspection, a warrant will be put out for your arrest.”

  “Why thirty-two hours?”

  “That’s one day here.”

  “And what is the fee to stay longer?”

  “Five hundred thousand credits.”

  Rance gaped at the man.

  “Also, that Graeken isn’t allowed off the ship. He may trade from inside, fly it where it needs to go, but we don’t allow aliens to set foot on the planet.”

  Heat rose to Rance’s face. The rule wasn’t unusual in the Empire, but it never failed to anger Rance. Tally was a peaceful, mostly law-abiding citizen with more sense than most humans.

  “Problem, Captain?”

  Rance swallowed her anger and shook her head. “No, sir.”

  He nodded to Rance, and the other two inspectors exited the Streaker.

  When they left, Rance jerked her head toward the ship. Everyone followed her inside, and Tally closed the ramp.

  Rance let out an angry breath. “No wonder people hate living here.”

  “You have thirty-two hours, Captain,” Tally said. “I suggest we fly closer to the tracking signal. Otherwise, we’ll waste too much time coming and going.”

  Abel shuffled over to the hidden weapons. “How are we going to hide these out there, boss?”

  “It won’t look suspicious if we carry bags, and we take only the bare necessities. Everyone grab one and look like you’re going to buy supplies. We’ll hide a weapon inside them. Bring one. And wear your stunners so others can see them.”

  James shook his head. “Sounds risky.”

  Rance holstered her stunner at her hip. “We can always dump them somewhere if we get caught.”

  “Yes, that sounds responsible.”

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  “I have a feeling,” Harper said as she pulled a short laser rifle from the locker, “that anything on this planet can be bought for a price. Including a free pass for weapons.”

  Rance frowned. “Five hundred thousand credits to stay here longer than a day. Who can afford that?”

  “Only the wealthiest corporations,” Tally said. “It means they control all the trade and prices in the system.”

  “I wonder how many people go off the radar?” James asked.

  Rance had wondered that, too. How difficult would it be? With twenty billion people on the stinking planet, a few had to fall through the cracks.

  They just needed to find those cracks to squeeze through.

  “Tally,” she said, “I want you in the cockpit while we’re gone. Make sure nothing happens to the Streaker, and be ready to fly us out of here once we find Solaris. James, we need as many people on the ground as possible.”

  James nodded. “It’s going to get interesting when we bring Solaris back. I hope Unity isn’t chasing us when we do.”

  “We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  They followed the tracking device’s signal over the city, away from the taller high-rise buildings. The smog thickened, and the decay of the planet became worse. Dirty, faded tents were set up in all the alleys, slum cities within the city itself. As they flew lower away from the spaceport, Unity’s presence drastically diminished.

  “It looks like they only care about the spaceport,” James said.

  “If they control that, they control the planet,” Rance said. She already hated the Cronus system and the striking contrast it bore to planets like Triton or Barton. “I thought Xanthes was bad.”

  James put the Streaker down on a small, fenced landing pad. “There’s always something worse, Captain.”

  “Guess so.”

  The little bit of daylight was fading, and by the time the crew threw on jackets and slung backpacks over their shoulders, the streets had turned dark. Weak, sickly lighting met them when they stepped off the Streaker.

  Before departing, Rance turned to Tally. His green eyes glowed in the darkness, oddly comforting. “Be careful,” she said. “We’ll stay in touch. If something happens, get the Streaker out of here.”

  “They won’t let me leave the planet without an inspection. If I try to get an inspection without you, they’ll send out warrants. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready for your signal.”

  Rance nodded. “Thank you, my friend. We’ll be back soon. Start the countdown.”

  She pulled out her own handset and set a timer. They had thirty hours left to find Solaris, rescue him, and be back at the Streaker for the second inspection. After purchasing a new registration code and costly repairs for the ship, Rance didn’t have the funds to buy them more time.

  “One thing, Captain,” Tally said.

  Rance paused.

  “If I were you, I’d try the neighborhood bar—always the best place to learn new information.”

  She smiled. “You mean I shouldn’t
run toward the signal, guns blazing?”

  “I think it would be prudent to take time to find out what you’re up against.”

  Rance nodded. Tally was right. They needed to know who held Solaris and how many enemies they would find.

  “We’re going to a bar, boss?” Abel asked. His face lit up with excitement.

  “You’re on duty,” Rance reminded him.

  “But the rule says ‘no drinking on board.’ It doesn’t say anything about on planet.”

  Rance sighed. “What is this, a vacation?”

  Abel shook his head. “Too dark for me. I like sun and clean air, for starters. Anyway, it would be strange if we went to a bar and didn’t drink.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Abel gave Harper a high-five.

  Rance looked at James, who was smoothing his hair. “You’re not looking for a new girlfriend, are you?”

  He wrinkled his nose and looked at their surroundings as they walked. “Maybe not.”

  “You never know who you’ll find here. She could be your soulmate.”

  “That’s okay, Captain.” James grinned.

  “Just with you fixing your hair and all…”

  James shuddered. “Imagine growing up here,” he said thoughtfully.

  Rance sobered. “No wonder the system riots every few years. I wonder what made it this way.”

  They passed through a gate lined with razor wire and a sign with a symbol that told them it was electrified. The front gate automatically scanned them for large weapons, and the stunner Rance carried passed without a problem. At the last minute, Abel had insisted on hiding the other weapons. Where he’d put them to evade the scanner, Rance didn’t know. Despite her misgivings, no one stopped them at the gate.

  “At least we don’t have to worry about someone stealing the Streaker,” Abel said as they left.

  “As long as they don’t lock us out,” Harper said. “Makes me glad Tally is staying on board.”

  Outside the compound, the buildings looked taller, more menacing. Wind blew trash through the streets. Other pedestrians ignored the strangers, kept their heads down. They let a few people pass before Rance called out to a man across the street. He looked up warily.

  “Where can some strangers go to get a drink?” she asked congenially.

  The man glanced behind him as if he expected to get mugged. When no one jumped him, he nodded to their right. “Two streets down. O’Malley’s.” He grinned. “Watch yourself in there.”

  Rance nodded to him, and the crew headed down the street. They didn’t have to go far before rowdy voices and music drifted through the night. Ahead, a sign for O’Malley’s hung above a door lit with flashing blue lights. The door opened, and warm, yellow light spilled out into the street. When the crew reached it, Rance turned to everybody. “I think we better keep our wits in here. No drinking.”

  James grinned. “We were just pulling your leg, Captain. We need to find Roote, don’t we? No time for anything else.” The others nodded, amused expressions creasing their faces.

  “Honestly, Captain,” Harper said, “you didn’t think we were on Cronus to party, did you?”

  Rance looked at the sign. The door opened again, and a man stumbled out. “I hate these places,” she said. “They remind me of Harrison, mostly.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t run into him here,” James said, frowning.

  “He wouldn’t be caught dead on Cronus—too much of a coward.” Rance opened the door, and a wall of noise hit them. The bar was bigger that it looked from the outside. Dull, thumping music mixed with laughter and raised voices. Overall, it was dark except for lighting around the bar. The room smelled of alcohol and sweat, but it was better than the tavern Rance had met Harrison in a few weeks ago on Xanthes.

  The crew stuck together as they made their way around tables to find a booth near the back. A delicious smell of food met their noses, and it reminded Rance of the homey scents of warm bread and honey. Her stomach grumbled. After the ship rations they had been eating the last few days, real food would be a welcome change.

  Once they got seated, a server dressed in a short skirt greeted them with a smile. “Off-worlders, huh?”

  Rance raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” James said, beating her to the punch. “That obvious, huh?”

  “You have a hopeful look about you,” the server said as she punched in a code on a holo over the table. “No one in Cronus looks like that unless they live somewhere else.”

  They ordered food and drinks, keeping away from anything stronger than coffee. Rance remained on edge, watching the faces and bodies in the bar, looking for trouble. They couldn’t afford any other delays. As they ate, Abel nodded to Rance, then jerked his head toward a table near the far corner.

  A thin man with salt and pepper hair sat alone. He stared into a glowing red drink, tipped it, drained it, and set it down carefully. The red glow disappeared, shrouding his face in darkness.

  “He’s been over there a while,” Abel said. “Looks like he might want to talk.”

  Rance doubted it. The man sat in a corner without looking at anybody, sagging against a wall like he had been drowning his sorrows all evening. Still, everyone else in the room seemed to have company. The captain nodded, wiped her mouth, and scooted out of the booth. She walked past the table once to get a better look at the stranger. When Rance saw nothing to alarm her, she walked past again, and this time she paused in front of his table. “Excuse me.”

  The man looked up in surprise.

  Rance smiled and nodded back to her crew. “My friends and I—”

  “No,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  “It’s not for sale.”

  Rance blinked. “What’s not for sale?”

  “None of it. I’m tired of telling you sorry Sons of the Founders. Get out before I stun you into the next building.” He went back to staring into his now-empty cup.

  His accent sounded different from the server. Rance knew it immediately. No one else in the Empire talked about the Founders. She waved the waitress over. “You from Xanthes?” she said to the man.

  He looked up, startled. He saw the waitress heading their way, and looked Rance up and down as if seeing her for the first time.

  “May I?” Rance asked, gesturing to the chair across from him. When he didn’t object, she sat down. “What are the odds of meeting on this rock?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Not too unreasonable, considering where you are. Lots of Outer Colonials end up in Cronus for one reason or another. Trade, smuggling, dealing, you name it. For some reason, they think it’s a better life.” He snorted as if he thought that were funny.

  The server came over, and Rance ordered another coffee. “And bring this gentleman another—what are you drinking?”

  The man waved the waitress away. “Nah. One’ll do.” The server walked away. “What’s your name?”

  “Rance Cooper. Yours?”

  “Wheeler.”

  “Hi, Mr. Wheeler.”

  “Not mister. Just Wheeler.” He eyed Rance suspiciously. “What’s your play? Get me drunk and rob me blind? I don’t have anything to steal.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not taking on any more jobs.”

  “My friends and I just got in town.”

  “No kidding. I never would have guessed.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  Wheeler leaned forward, his breath foul even across the table. “You know why this system is called Cronus? Because in Greek myth, Cronus ate his children. That’s what this system does to the people who live here. It eats them, body and soul. We know off-worlders when we see them because they aren’t unhappy enough.” He looked into his empty glass. “But give it time, give it time.”

  Rance frowned. “I don’t want to hire you. I was hoping you would give me information.”

  “Why would I do that?”
r />   “I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “I don’t want dinner. Go away.”

  The captain stood, realizing she’d bungled the entire interaction. She nodded to Wheeler, who didn’t look up. “Nice to meet you.”

  When Rance sat back down with the crew, she gave Abel an incredulous look.

  “Not my fault, boss,” he said. “You’re really bad at this, you know?”

  “You picked the wrong guy.”

  “Nah. He was willing to talk. You just didn’t go about it the right way.”

  “Then you talk to him.”

  Abel shook his head. “Too late now.”

  James drained his third cup of coffee. “I hope this keeps me awake for the next thirty hours.”

  “Soon it will be twenty-nine hours,” Harper corrected. “I suggest we split into pairs and make some friends. We need to know who runs this slum hole of a planet.”

  James paired with Rance, and Harper with Abel. They walked around the room carefully, looking for people who wanted to socialize. Who’d had too much to drink and wanted to talk.

  But everyone recognized them for off-worlders, people to fear and mistrust. The crew met back at their booth, which had been cleaned off and wiped down. Rance sat on the bench to rub her eyes. “Well, this went well.”

  Something hit the table, causing her to jump. Wheeler loomed over her, his hand on the table. “The thing is,” he said as if they were in the middle of a conversation, “I got off of Xanthes to make a life for myself. To find glory and riches.”

  Wheeler swept his arms wide, revealing another drink in his other hand. He pointed a finger at Rance, who eyed him warily. Abel moved closer, ready to intervene, but Rance shot him a look to hold back.

  “And what did I find?” Wheeler asked. “Go ahead, ask me.”

  “What did you find?”

  Wheeler laughed and dropped his hands to his side. His drink sloshed onto the floor, hitting Rance’s boots. “I found true love.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  He nodded conspiratorially. “Trust me,” he whispered, “it’s the worst thing that can happen.”

  Rance nodded in sympathy. “I understand.”

  “You don’t,” Wheeler said, waggling his finger at her. “You don’t.”