Star Scavenger: The Complete Series Books 1-5

by G J Ogden

  Hudson waned in and out of consciousness, babbling incoherently, until the deck shuddered, literally shaking some sense back into his bruised head. He could feel himself sliding, until something solid stopped him. His head was now spinning out of control; time seemed to slow down and speed up. It was a nightmare, and he couldn’t wake up.

  Eventually, his vision started to resolve and he got a sense of his bearings. He was still on the deck in the cockpit of the RGF patrol craft, in a contorted heap. His body was pressed against the bulkhead that separated the cockpit from the rear cargo compartment. He heard a distant, percussive rattle and then the dull, heavy thud of something much closer. Struggling to right himself, he eventually managed to sit up. Through squinting eyes, he saw the face of Logan Griff, surrounded by flashing white patterns, like a halo of stars.

  “I should kill you, rook, but I really don’t need the heat it would bring down on me,” Griff said. He then adjusted his grip on his sidearm so that he was holding it by the barrel instead. “Even I’d struggle to explain away how you ended up getting shot with an RGF gun when there are only two of us on-board. If this was an Outer Portal World, I might get away with it, but the CET are lame-ass ‘by the book’ guys, just like you, rook. Or should I say ‘crook’?” Griff laughed at his own joke, exposing two rows of yellow, warped teeth. “Luckily, I can shoot your relic hunter friend over on that piece of shit freighter without any such trouble,” Griff added, his grimy smile beaming wider. Then he bent down, bringing his thin face and wiry mustache so close that Hudson could smell the tobacco on his breath and the sweat soaked into his shirt. Both were unusually intense and unbearably repugnant. He tried to push away from him, but there was no strength in his arms.

  “I warned you not to cross me, rook,” continued Griff, and the words oozed out like poison from a cobra’s fangs. “Like I told you; I always get my cut.” Then Griff slashed the sidearm down sharply across the side of Hudson’s temple, and the starry halo was replaced by complete darkness.

  CHAPTER 16

  Hudson opened his eyes and then grimaced as a crippling pain flooded his body, forcing him to shut them again. It was as if a giant needle had been inserted through his temples. It was a full minute before he was able to again force open an eyelid, but the throbbing in his head remained. It was like the hangover from hell; worse even than the morning after a session on Ma’s whiskey.

  He was cognizant enough to realize he was still in the cockpit of the patrol craft, still slumped up against the bulkhead. He tried to sit up, but his hands and feet wouldn’t move. Hudson looked down, and saw they were bound with the same thick, dark grey tape the RGF used to seal up boxes of seized relic claims. He knew the material was too tough to break with brute strength alone. Instead, he began searching around the cockpit for anything he might be able to use to rip or cut through it. It was only then that he realized Griff was no longer with him, and in his absence an eerie stillness filled the air. Even the familiar thrum of the deck plating, vibrating in mechanical harmony with the ship’s main reactor, was absent. With the pain clouding his ability to think clearly, it took Hudson a few seconds to realize why – the patrol craft was no longer moving.

  A gut-wrenching swell of dread added to the cocktail of physical sensations that Hudson was struggling to process. There could have been any number of reasons why Griff had stopped the ship, but he feared the worst. Then he caught a glimpse of a second ship just visible through the cockpit glass. Panic gripped him, blanking out every other sensation, even the pain. Please no… please no… he repeated in his head as he heaved himself into the center of the deck to get a better view. As the shape of the vessel became more distinct, he was consumed with a feeling of grim hopelessness. His body fell limp and his weary head clattered against the cold metal beneath him. There was no doubt it was Ericka’s ship. Griff had caught her and there was every chance she was dead already.

  Get up… Get up! Hudson urged himself, refusing to permit the darkness to consume him. There’s still a chance... Get up! He hauled himself upright again and then cried out, “Griff!” It was a near animalistic roar, filled with all the anger and pain and despair that had polluted his every thought. “Griff, where are you?!” There was no answer. Either Griff was ignoring him, or he was already on-board Ericka’s ship. He’d obviously managed to knock out its engines and latch on to the light freighter’s docking ring. However, other than this he had no idea what had occurred during the time he had been unconscious. Griff had threatened to kill her; and Hudson knew it wasn’t an idle threat.

  His roars combined with the awareness of the mortal danger Ericka was in caused adrenalin to surge through his veins. Hudson cried out again, struggling even harder against the restraints, but it was futile and the bonds held fast.

  Sucking in heavy gulps of oxygen to fuel his tiring muscles, Hudson closed his eyes and tried to think more clearly. He knew he had to get free before Griff got back to the ship. He’d already witnessed him destroy a vessel just so that he could claim salvage rights. He wouldn’t put it past him to do this again. Griff could take all of the valuable claims, uncouple the ships and then blow Ericka’s vessel to pieces, with her still inside. I wouldn’t even put it past the crooked bastard to throw me onto her ship too, thought Hudson. No witnesses to refute his story…

  He opened his eyes and continued his search for anything in the cockpit that could break his binds. Then he noticed that the seat runners for Griff’s chair were exposed. He always kept his seat pushed far forward, despite his lanky frame, so that he could more easily rest his legs up on the center console. Hudson shuffled over to the rear of Griff’s seat and managed to lift his bound hands onto the closest of the two sharp rails. He then jostled back and forth in an attempt to saw through the thick tape. Come on, come on! he urged as his efforts became more frantic, until eventually he heard part of the tape rip. Encouraged, Hudson pressed harder, bruising and scraping his wrists and hands against the metal until the tape finally gave way completely. Tearing the remains away, he then reached down and unwrapped his ankles, before pushing himself upright. A wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him and he almost collapsed on the spot. Hudson instinctively grabbed the back of Griff’s chair, using it like a life buoy to steady himself until the dizziness subsided.

  Suddenly, muffled shouts and the sound of metal clanking filtered through the open cockpit door. Without consideration for his own safety, he ran aft and saw that the port-side umbilical was extended. Still unsteady and wavering from one side of the compartment to the other, Hudson pushed on. He almost fell, but managed to catch hold of the docking hatch to again steady himself. He realized a confrontation with Griff awaited him on the other side of the umbilical and reached down for his weapon. Then he remembered that Griff had already forced him to relinquish it. Hudson knew he was in no condition for a fight, but he needed a way to foil his partner’s plans. Otherwise, Griff was sure to destroy the relic hunter ship and kill Ericka, and probably him too.

  Hudson peered around the rear compartment for inspiration. Spotting the aft emergency communications panel, he had an idea. Staggering over to it, he smashed the thin covering of glass with his fist to activate the distress beacon. Then he hurriedly dialed in the emergency spacecraft frequency for the CET, before opening the channel.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is Officer Hudson Powell on the RGF Patrol Craft Scimitar, Scimitar, Scimitar,” Hudson began, hoping that he wasn’t slurring his words too obviously. His head still pounded like a timpani drum and the constant thumping almost deafened him to his own words. “We have experienced complete engine failure. Immediate assistance required. We have one relic hunter smuggler in custody with undocumented claims. Repeat, one relic hunter smuggler in custody with undocumented claims. Over.”

  That should get their attention… thought Hudson. If there was one universal truth common to all the controlling authorities, across all the portal worlds, it was money. CET wouldn’t give a shit about a stranded RG
F vessel. However, if there were claims to be had, Hudson had no doubt that a CET ship would be hard-burning towards them within seconds. He couldn’t just sit on his hands and wait for it to arrive, even if that was the smart option, given his concussed condition. He had to know if Ericka was alright, and he had to confront and stop Griff.

  Hudson pushed away from the comms panel and made his way through the umbilical connecting the two vessels. Ericka’s ship was a small cutter-class light freighter a little over twice the size of the stripped down RGF patrol craft. It was large enough to have living quarters in addition to a small cargo compartment. He knew this style of vessel well from his days as a courier runner, and so knew the quickest route to the hold. Staggering onwards, the sound of shuffling boots and the scrape of objects or boxes being pulled across the deck grew louder. He quickened his pace and practically fell through the open shutter door into the cargo hold. The first thing he saw was Ericka’s body, lying just inside the arch. She wasn’t moving and blood was visible, smeared across her leather jacket.

  “No!” Hudson cried out, throwing himself further into the room and dropping down by her side. He pulled Ericka’s limp body next to his and smoothed the hair from her eyes. They remained closed, even as Hudson shook her gently, urging her to wake up.

  “You just don’t know when to stay down, do you rook?”

  Hudson looked up and saw Griff at the far end of the hold. He was rifling through the storage racks as if it was just a normal day on the job.

  “What have you done?!” Hudson shouted as Griff carefully placed two more alien relics into an RGF-issue backpack, which was already stuffed full. “You killed her!”

  “Quit your crying, she’s not dead,” Griff yelled back without thinking; but then he seemed less certain of himself. “Well, she wasn’t a few minutes ago, anyway.” He glanced over to Hudson, still holding Ericka close, and shrugged. “Not that I give a shit if she lives or dies. She’s a criminal and got what was coming to her.”

  Hudson had tried to be smart and tried to stay calm, but he couldn’t stomach this hateful man any longer. He was going to tear Logan Griff down, or die trying. Death was no less than he deserved for failing Ericka. He’d agreed to help her. It was his plan. It was his fault.

  Hudson began to gently lower Ericka’s body to the deck in readiness to charge at Griff, when her hand closed around his wrist. As he looked down, he found her eyes meeting his and was almost overcome with relief.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’ll be okay…” Hudson blabbed, as Ericka’s mouth opened. There was a trickle of blood visible at the corner. “Just hang in there, help is coming. You’re going to be fine…”

  “Help…” said Ericka, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Hudson, “The CET is on the way. You’ll be okay…” Ericka shook her head, and then gently pulled back the lapel of her jacket to reveal the bullet wound in her chest. Hudson pressed his hand over the wound, desperately trying to stop the blood from leaking out of her body. However, he’d seen enough gunshot injuries in his lifetime to know at once that this one was fatal.

  “Help him,” croaked Ericka. “My brother… please… help him. Hudson… Please…”

  “I will, I will,” Hudson answered, his words almost frantic. “Just take it easy, okay, you need to save your strength.”

  The thud of heavy boots on the deck caused Hudson to reluctantly tear his eyes away from Ericka. Griff was now pacing back towards him, body hunched over from the weight of the rucksack on his back. His sidearm was clutched in his sweaty palm, nicotine-stained finger curled around the trigger.

  “You did all this for a woman?” asked Griff, peering down at Hudson like he was a lab experiment gone wrong. “You really are the dumbest rook I’ve ever come across.”

  Hudson wanted to strangle Griff. He wanted to watch him splutter and beg as he choked the air out of his scrawny neck. Yet he also knew that getting himself killed now wouldn’t help Ericka. “You’ve got your score, Griff. That’s all you care about, right?” Hudson countered. It took all he had left not to dive for his throat. “You gain nothing if she dies. It’s just more paperwork, right?”

  Griff sighed and nodded, “I do hate paperwork,” he admitted, but then his eyes narrowed. “But I hate traitorous scumbags like you even more. And that’s why I’m going to blow up this ship with both of you on-board.”

  “I thought you’d be smarter than that,” replied Hudson. He was trying to appeal to Griff’s well-developed sense of self-preservation. “Just leave me here and I’ll be gone out of your life for good. That way no-one comes asking you awkward questions, or goes snooping around and finding stuff you’re not supposed to have…”

  Griff laughed. “Nice try, rook. Problem is, if I leave this ship intact, my salvage rights go out of the window. Besides, I’m going to enjoy watching you burn in space.”

  “You won’t get away with it, you piece of shit!” spat Hudson. Though he was painfully aware of how unconvincing he sounded.

  Griff laughed again, though this was darker and even more sinister. “You know I will. A tragic accident, caused by the umbilical detaching before you got back on board. Then a reactor overload caused by the engine damage after I disabled the ship and… boom!” He laughed again, and then itched his moustache with the barrel of his weapon, as if it were an extension of his bony finger. “Wash will sign off on whatever I say, especially after I give her a fat slice of what’s in this bag.” Griff smiled as he let it all sink in, and then added, “Money talks, rook. I tried to tell you, but you were too dumb to listen.”

  Hudson knew he had to stall Griff for as long as possible. His only chance now was for the CET to arrive before Griff made good on his threats. He was about to argue back when he felt Ericka’s hand slip from his arm. He looked down and her eyes stared back up at him, except now they were blank and glassy.

  “Ericka?” Hudson said, softly at first, and then louder and more forcibly. “Ericka, please answer me…” he tried again, shaking her gently and causing her head to loll to the side. He placed a finger against her neck to feel for a pulse, but the only movement he detected was the trembling of his own body.

  “See what crossing me gets you?” said Griff, with an icy indifference to what he’d just witnessed. “Her death is on you, rook.”

  Hudson barely heard Griff’s voice; he was still gripped by the sight of Ericka’s now lifeless body. He’d promised to help her, and to help her brother, but he’d only succeeded in getting her killed. He turned to Griff, staring into the barrel of the weapon that was now pointed at his head, finger adding pressure to the trigger. Hudson wasn’t afraid; perhaps, he even deserved a bullet. However, he’d be damned if Logan Griff would be his executioner. If he was going to die, alongside Ericka, he’d make Griff fight for it. He’d make him feel it.

  Suddenly the cargo hold of the light freighter was filled with an authoritarian-sounding voice. The sound was filtering in through the open umbilical to the RGF patrol craft.

  “RGF Patrol Craft Scimitar, this is Commander Roach of the CET Corvette Galatea. We are responding to your distress beacon.” The voice was calm and professional. “We have you in our sights now; remain in position and await our arrival.”

  Griff scowled and inched his weapon lower so that he could meet Hudson’s eyes more clearly. “You alerted the CET?”

  “Sorry to spoil your plans, asshole,” replied Hudson. He took a sliver of comfort from knowing that at least he’d denied Griff from claiming Ericka’s score. The CET would seize and impound the entire contents of the hold and then auction it off at a later date. RGF would only get a twenty percent cut, of which Griff’s money-grabbing hands would see precisely zero. “I’m afraid your salvage rights just went out the airlock.”

  “Yeah, well so will you soon,” Griff spat back, “Once I’ve put a bullet through your thick skull.”

  Hudson laid Ericka’s body gently onto the deck and pushed himself to hi
s feet. He felt groggy and nauseous, like someone had spun him around and around on an office chair for the last ten seconds. Griff took two paces back, aiming the weapon at Hudson’s body, finger still on the trigger, but his eyes betrayed his doubt.

  “You can’t kill me now, and you know it,” said Hudson, struggling to focus on Griff’s lined face. “I’m sure you can come up with a convincing lie about why you had to shoot a relic hunter smuggler. But you can’t explain away shooting your own partner, no matter how you spin it.”

  Griff’s top lip twitched, animating his wiry mustache as if he was about to sneeze. “What if I tell them about your little deal with the smuggler lady here?” he added, eyes flicking down to the body at Hudson’s feet.

  Hudson refused to look down; the pain and guilt and shame was still too raw. He feared that seeing Ericka’s lifeless eyes again would pitch him into the dark precipice he’d been teetering on the edge of since discovering Griff’s crime. Hudson still wasn’t afraid of him, or his petty threats. Griff could do nothing more to him now, not without further worsening his own prospects.

  “No, you won’t,” Hudson answered, ejecting each word like a bullet. “You will keep your mouth shut, or I’ll have a lot to say to Commander Roach about all the claims you’ve stolen from the CET. It wouldn’t take much of an investigation to expose you for the thief you are. So, take me down, and I take you down with me. And we both know who’d fall the hardest and deepest.”

  Griff’s finger was still wrapped around the trigger. The pressure of a gentle breeze was all that was needed to activate it, but Griff just managed to hold back. “The RGF will still get its cut of your girlfriend’s crappy score,” Griff answered. He then lowered his weapon by a fraction and slid his trigger finger back onto the frame. “But you’ve cost me today, and I won’t forget that. It doesn’t matter where you go, I’ll find you and one day you’ll pay. I promise you that.”