“How many enemies have you made?” She sounded more curious than afraid. Maybe everything that had happened left her overwhelmed.
“I never counted them, but plenty I guess. In our line of work the only way to avoid making enemies is to kill everyone on the opposite side of your deal. That’s hardly practical, and may lead to angry family members hunting you instead.” Solomon sounded pretty cool, but the truth was when he thought about everyone they’d pissed off over the years it scared him half to death.
Emily looked into his eyes. “Will you do what he wants?” Her voice trembled.
He squeezed her shoulders and tried to sound reassuring. “If I can, I promise I’ll protect you from him.”
Solomon almost laughed at that. He couldn’t even protect himself.
* * *
Solomon sighed. Two adequate meals and a descent night’s sleep had done wonders for his outlook if not his situation. Now if he could find a way to get Emily’s collar off, learn to fly a fighter, and sneak out of this prison he’d be all set. Emily rested on her cot after picking at her meal. She didn’t seem to be handling their situation well and he worried about her.
The door slid open and his mood soured. Dorn walked in like he owned the place, which he probably did, and motioned toward the computer terminal. Solomon hurried over and sat at the table. He’d tried it earlier and found the system dead.
Dorn flipped a switch and the computer booted up. “Now it’s time for you to get to work. I need you to hack into the Galactic Council’s system and insert spyware for me.”
Solomon’s mouth dropped. This was why Dorn chose him. He’d helped Dra’kor design the new system to make it impossible to hack. The old man must have thought he had a backdoor into the system. “I can’t. The system is designed so that only a terminal hardwired into the system can access the critical functions.”
Dorn waved off his concern. “I’m aware. The systems I want access to aren’t critical to the council. What I want is access to the interior cameras, specifically the ones in the council chambers.”
Solomon shook his head, not understanding. “Why would you want to watch council meetings? I sat through a couple and almost fell asleep.”
Dorn frowned, wrinkles deepening with his displeasure. “Why is not your concern. You will get me access to those cameras or.” Dorn pulled out the remote and pointed at the still dozing Emily.
“Alright, Alright. It’s still a heavily encrypted system. I can’t just snap my fingers and get you in.”
Dorn put the remote away. “For both your sakes you’d best get the job done quickly. You should have everything you need, if not let me know. I’ll be checking your progress for time to time.”
“I’ll start right now.”
Dorn nodded and turned toward the door. When the door closed behind him Solomon let himself relax. Writing the program wouldn’t take much effort, but he needed to draw the process out as long as possible to give Marcus a chance to find them. Whatever Dorn led them to believe Solomon doubted he’d just let the two of them go.
Emily sat up on her cot. “Can you do it?” She sounded so desperate.
“I think so.”
She rolled out of her cot and came over to stand behind him. Solomon called up the main menu. Basic interface, coding program, secure hypernet connection, minimal, but enough to work with. He started typing. Half an hour later he had a crude messaging program. He input the star’s comm ID and a call for help. When he hit send the screen flashed invalid address.
“Looks like you can only access certain external comms.” Emily leaned forward and breathed on his neck, her chest pressed against his back.
Solomon’s face burned and he got up. “This isn’t going to work. I can’t concentrate with you so close, at least not on this.”
Emily looked around the spartan cell. “There’s nothing else to do. Besides, it’s awesome to watch you work in real time. I’ve only seen your finished code, never a work in progress.”
He scratched behind his ear. “Why don’t you drag a cot over and have a seat. Leaning over me will not work.”
She smiled, the first one since they got captured. “Cool!”
* * *
Marcus wanted to pull his hair out. A full day had passed since the security officer, Cade, took Solomon off planet. He’d called Dra’kor as soon as they cleared the system asked him to put out a council alert on the prison transport. The Vencar councilor had been happy to help. He’d struck up an odd sort of friendship with Solomon and was almost as eager as Marcus to get him back. Marcus had expected results much faster.
He sat in the cockpit and tried not to think about all the bad things that might be happening to Solomon. Almost as bad as his concern for his friend, since he questioned then killed the mercenaries Iaka had become distant, even moving back into her old room. He’d lost his friend and in the process of trying to get him back may have driven away his girlfriend. He almost hoped the security officer didn’t want to tell him where Solomon was so he’d have an excuse to beat it out of him. Damn it! He couldn’t think that way or he’d never get Iaka back.
The comm sounded jolting him out of his gloomy musing. He checked the readout. It was Dra’kor. Hopes high, Marcus hit the flashing button and the familiar silver mask appeared on the screen. “Please tell me you have good news.”
“I do. We got a hit on your transponder.” A string of numbers appeared on the screen.
Marcus checked the coordinates and frowned, the system was outside the projected range for the transport by half a light year. “Are you sure that’s him?”
“I’m sure it’s the correct code and the person that contacted me saw a ship matching your description land at his hanger. Beyond that I have nothing.”
“That’s got to be him. Thanks Dra’kor.”
“Anytime, Marcus. If you require further assistance please let me know.” The first councilor disconnected.
Marcus typed the coordinates into the navicomputer. He smiled a sad little smile, how long since he’d handled his own navigation? When the computer indicated it had the course plotted he activated the hyperdrive and shot into the vortex.
The cockpit door slid open and Iaka entered. Marcus turned and grinned. She stood with her arms crossed and didn’t look at him. His grin withered. “Dra’kor called. He got a lead on the transport.”
Iaka nodded and sat in the chair opposite him. “I figured.”
“What’s wrong?” Marcus couldn’t stand it anymore. If she hated him and wanted nothing more to do with him he wanted to find out now. “I’m sorry about what happened with the mercenaries.”
She finally looked at him, her eyes red from crying. “It’s not just that. This whole business just drove home the fact that we’ll never have an ordinary life. We can’t even go on vacation without something crazy happening.”
Marcus stared at her, uncomprehending. “I’m an ex-smuggler and current agent of the council, an ordinary life was ever in the cards. I don’t want an ordinary life. I need the rush, the excitement. This is the life I love, and I love having you in it. I’ve never been happier than I have been since we met.”
She shook her head. “Since we met I’ve almost gotten poisoned, blasted, disintegrated, burned to a crisp, irradiated, and shot into space. After I cleared my name I intended to settle down to a quiet life of study on Alpha, but stuff keeps happening.”
“I understand.” He almost choked on the words. “After we get Solomon back I’ll take you to Alpha. I’ll miss you, but the truth is I wouldn’t last a month doing anything ordinary.”
“And I don’t think I can stand much more excitement.”
8
The Rogue Star emerged from hyperspace a safe distance from Randon Prime, a heavily developed industrial planet. In the view-screen the planet seethed with clouds, most of which, according to his research, consisted of pollution from the thousands of factories churning out product twenty-four seven. The little patches of land and water vi
sible through the black clouds looked brown and withered. There were no star cruisers or defense satellites in orbit and no one hailed them as they flew closer. The government probably figured no one would want to attack their dingy little planet. Of all the places for Cade to lie low why this toilet?
“Is the atmosphere even breathable?” Iaka leaned forward in her chair for a closer look. Since their talk the two of them had settled into an uneasy company. He still loved her, more than he could say, but after what she said about an ordinary life he realized they wanted different things. Much as he wanted to be with her he couldn’t see himself living the life she wanted.
“The visitors guide says ‘visitors from other worlds are advised to wear filters over their breathing orifices.’ Their words not mine. I’m not sure what bothers me more, that they feel the need to point out their gray air isn’t healthy, or that they have a visitor’s guide in the first place.” Marcus’s joke didn’t get so much as a smile.
He sighed and aimed the ship at the planet. He called up the coordinates of the landing field Dra’kor mentioned, circled the planet until they faced the proper landmass, and descended. The Star rattled when she hit the atmosphere and though he couldn’t see it Marcus suspected they kicked up more than the usual flames as they streaked through the filthy atmosphere.
They passed through the clouds and pollution and found their course took them toward a large city. Even from a distance the place looked like a hole. Tall, corroded towers jutted up hundreds of stories, all around them factories, some of them fifty blocks long, belched black smog into the air. On the edge of the city he spotted the flare of a ship’s engines as it took off. Marcus guided the ship that way and in short order they hovered near a rundown collection of rusty hangers, about half of them occupied by an equally run down collection of ships. Near the center of the hangers an office or control tower or something a little less rotten than the rest of the buildings sat like the single surviving tooth in a tabac chewer’s mouth.
He waited for someone to hail them, but after a couple minutes gave up and slid into one of the empty hangers. He powered down the engines and turned to Iaka. “I’ll go talk to the owner. I’ve got an extra mask if you want to come.”
She favored him with a halfhearted smile. “I think I’ll pass.”
He nodded, not surprised, but disappointed all the same. The pollution wouldn’t do her flawless complexion any good anyway. Marcus left the cockpit and headed for the hold. Halfway there he stopped at a storage locker and retrieved his control gauntlet. He felt better the moment he strapped it on. In the hold he went over to a wall mounted bin and popped the lid. Inside a jumble of tools, spare parts, and other junk waited. He pawed them aside, looking for his breath mask. One of these days he’d have to make a real effort to get these bins as organized as his weapon’s locker. At last he found a mask, gray and grease smudged, it looked like he hadn’t used it in months. Probably not since the last time he cleaned the ventilation system. The filter looked good though so he strapped it on, opened the door and headed out, sealing the ship behind him.
Marcus left his ship and headed toward the only non-hanger on the property. Lights burned behind the grimy windows so someone was home. He rapped on the door then pushed it open. Inside, behind a desk piled high with some sort of overly thick paper, sat a man with thick, leathery skin devoid of body hair. He squinted at Marcus, put his hands on the desk, his arms corded with muscle pushed off and stood up revealing a massive, broad shouldered body wearing simple brown cloths made of a stiff, durable material Marcus didn’t recognize. He doubted a shot from his stunner would even make the man flinch.
“You the new guy in hanger twenty?” The owner had a thick, scratchy voice that matched his appearance perfectly.
He removed his mask and let it dangle around his neck. “That’s right. I’m Marcus Drake and I work for the Galactic Council. I believe you spoke to my boss earlier today.”
He nodded his massive, bald head. “Right. You’re man’s in hanger thirty-two. Paid for a week in advance. Ain’t seen him since.”
“Thanks. Mind if I poke around?”
“Knock yourself out.” The owner sat back down behind his wall of paper and lost all interest in Marcus. Given his total lack of motivation, why’d he bothered to report Cade’s arrival?
Marcus left his amiable host to his work and set out to track down hanger thirty-two. He found it about as far as you could get from the office and still remain on the property. The lack of a hanger door made Marcus’s job easy, he slipped inside just as slick as you please. The security transport sat on its gear, sealed tight. He went to the rear of the ship and checked for an access panel, but found nothing. Arnold must have had a remote access key like his gauntlet. Well, shit.
His hopes for a quick in and out dashed Marcus returned to his ship. He still had a few options, several of them expensive and none of them a sure thing. A command from his gauntlet opened the loading ramp; Marcus entered the hold, jogged up to the cockpit and found it empty. He sighed and shook his head. It reminded him of the old days when he worked alone, running Vlad’s errands. He didn’t miss the old days, he missed Solomon. He missed Iaka even more, she was just down the hall, but felt lightyears away. Marcus set his dark thoughts to one side. He’d make things right later, for now he needed to find Cade.
First things first, Marcus did a basic search for Cade’s name, hoping to find some family that might know where he was. Nothing. Well, that would have been too easy anyway. Next he checked for cameras that might have seen him leaving the field, but the planet lacked a functioning surveillance system. Marcus saw why Cade chose this dump; it seemed like a good place to disappear for a while. He brightened, fired up one of the hacking programs Solomon wrote for him, typed Cade’s name, and set it to search every database in the city, starting with the closest and moving out from there.
He leaned back in his chair and tapped his chin. Where would Cade have gone? Truth was he might have gone anywhere. Ten minutes later the computer chimed and an image of Cade appeared on the screen. He checked into a cheap hotel about five miles away. Marcus grinned. Time to introduce himself to Mr. Cade.
* * *
Marcus left the cockpit and rapped on Iaka’s door. It slid open and she leaned in the doorway. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ve got a line on Cade. Will you keep an eye on things here in case he comes back while I’m gone?”
She nodded. “Be careful.”
He wanted to kiss her, hug her, pat her on the shoulder, something to reinforce their connection, but instead he headed to the hold to get his bike. He unstrapped it and his mask fitted as tight to his face as he could get it Marcus eased down the ramp. When he was clear he sealed the ship behind him. It was mid afternoon local time, but the clouds were so thick it felt like night. He sighed, typed the hotel’s location in his computer, and roared off into the murk.
Following the directions on his screen Marcus flew down a pitted, and pot hole filled three lane highway. Heavy haulers not dissimilar to the one the mercenaries used on the pleasure planet rumbled down the highway on both sides of him. He felt like a mouse surrounded by rhinos. Even odder, was the complete lack of regular, family sized cars. Maybe everyone was still at work.
To make his trip more miserable some genius had decided that since all the vehicles had antigravity generators they didn’t need to bother filling the potholes anymore. What he didn’t take into account was the holes collected fetid rainwater that splashed up on anyone driving over them. Not a big deal for the haulers, but soon the stinking, polluted water covered Marcus from the knee down. His skin burned under his heavy pants when the water soaked through. He wondered for the hundredth time what prompted Cade to come to such a horrid place.
At his computer’s bidding he turned off the highway and on to a crowded, narrow city street. Derelict transports lay on the side of the streets in various states of disassembly. Dark, rotting buildings towered over him, their pitted stone walls l
ike decaying skin. Even with his mask he tasted the harsh, acrid pollution from the factory’s smoke stacks. He left the commercial area and entered the entertainment district. Strip clubs, whorehouses, peep shows, and bars mingled with an occasional by the hour motel. Cade’s hotel slumped between a loan office and a drooping, two story strip club that looked in danger of collapsing at any moment. First class all the way for Mr. Cade.
Marcus had no trouble finding an empty parking place on the side of the hotel. He got off his bike and activated every antitheft device built into it. He took another look around the decaying neighborhood and sent a silent prayer to the powers that be that when he got back his ride would still be there. The front of the hotel sported a pair of tarnished bronze and glass doors. He pushed them open and stepped through.
The entrance sported a pair of long dead plants, their dry, leafless branches jutting from a rusty cube filled with dry dirt. A path of dried mud led up to the front desk, behind which a young native slept with his feet up on the counter. Marcus shuddered, what did the rooms look like if this is how they kept the lobby? Then again who cared, he wasn’t planning on staying the night.
He walked up to the desk and hit the tarnished silver bell. It didn’t make a sound. Someone had removed the striker, probably the unconscious young native in front of him. Resisting the urge to dump him on his bony ass Marcus gave the kid’s booted foot a shake. He snorted in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes. When he spotted Marcus he took his feet down off the desk and leaned forward. “What?”
Children of Junk (Rogue Star Book 3) Page 6
