by G J Ogden
He blew out a long breath, then reached down to the communications panel to let the liner know they were out of danger. However, all the lights on the panel were red. “Shit, that little gunboat bastard must have hit my antenna array,” said Hudson, flipping switches on and off, as if that might suddenly cause it to work again. “Where’s Morphus, when you need it?” he added, glancing over to the second seat, which was empty once again. Though at this point he’d settle for any crappy repair station.
He let out another long sigh, and relaxed his aching muscles, but he’d barely closed his eyes before the navigation scanner bleeped again. Hudson groaned as he glanced down to see four more unregistered gunboats launching from New Providence.
“I think that’s my cue to leave…” said Hudson, again directing the comment to the empty second seat. He was close to the portal now, so there was no chance of the gunboats catching him, or the liner. Though after what he’d just done, he knew he’d not get within a hundred kilometers of New Providence station again, at least not in the Orion. If Liberty was still there, she was on her own. Or she was already dead. Either way, Logan Griff and Cutler Wendell would pay for what they did. Even if Goliath succeeded in annihilating Earth, Hudson would make sure he got to Griff and Cutler first. Even if the galaxy was being torn down around him, Hudson would make sure he got his revenge.
CHAPTER 29
Logan Griff lifted the bulky scendar device containing the alien crystal onto the table, and slid it into the middle. He then flopped down into one of the waiting office chairs and lounged in it, like he was a bored schoolchild.
“Why the hell are we meeting in this cesspit of freaks and weirdos?” said Griff, as he ran a tired hand through his stringy hair. He had directed the question to Superintendent Jane Wash, who was sitting opposite. “Sapphire Alpha is nowhere near anything of value, and there are about a million nut-jobs on the planet living like it’s the Middle Ages again.”
Wash’s thin lips pouted and she scowled, before letting out a loud, disappointed sigh at Griff. She reached forward and dragged the scendar device closer. Griff watched as Wash bent down to peer in at the crystal through the window, but she appeared utterly unimpressed by it.
“It’s precisely because Sapphire Alpha is in the middle of nowhere that we’re here,” Wash said, in her usual condescending tone. She straightened her back again, resuming her stiff, upright posture. “This may be a backwards OPW planet, but it has the only space station in the entire system. It’s an insignificant world in an insignificant star system that’s practically undefended.” Then she tapped the device with the tip of her manicured fingernail. “If you can find a portal and an alien wreck out here, then it will be easy to stake our claim. Conversely, if we discover a new portal closer to MP or CET space, we will face much sterner resistance.”
“Smart…” replied Griff, yawning.
“One of us has to be,” said Wash, tersely.
Griff reached into his top pocket and snuck out a cigarette from the squashed black packet that was tucked inside. He popped it into his mouth and lit it, before sucking in a deep lungful of smoke.
“Must you do that?” Wash complained. “This station reeks enough as it is.”
Griff cocked his head back and blew the smoke away from where Wash was sitting. He knew better than to antagonize her any more than was necessary, though he enjoyed pushing her buttons for as long as he could get away with it. However, the truth was that he hadn’t lit the smoke to annoy his commander; he’d needed it to soothe his nerves. Despite the great enjoyment he’d got from selling off Liberty Devan to the Council, other recent experiences had given him pause. Though he may have re-asserted his authority over Cutler Wendell, the once predictable mercenary had become more impulsive, and his control over Tory Bellona had waned. Combined with almost dying on an alien space station, and the edgy meeting he’d had with Werner on New Providence, he was feeling particularly brittle.
“I’ve had a stressful few days,” Griff eventually said, in answer to Wash’s snarky question. He blew out another plume of smoke then quickly got back on topic. “Even if I do find a portal and a new wreck, this is still OPW space. Won’t they just say it’s theirs?”
Wash rested back in her chair. “The Outer Portal Worlds are a loose union,” she said, making a show of wafting the smoke away, even though barely any had gone near her. “So long as we stop any OPW colonization caravans from reaching the planet, they can’t apply for the new world to join.”
“And what about the CET and the MP?” asked Griff, before sucking in another lungful of smoke.
“Oh, I have no doubt that they will come,” said Wash. She appeared unconcerned at the prospect of the two largest military powers descending on them. “But I already have a fleet of RGF Patrol craft standing by. Once you find a wreck, I’ll send them in to blockade the portal. Neither will risk a conflict. They will have to accept our claim.”
Griff took another long drag and blew out the smoke, again being careful to direct it away from Wash. Then he tapped the ash into a glass ashtray on the table and reclined back in the chair. “Well, it certainly seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“It certainly seems like you’ve got it all figured out, ma’am,” Wash answered, acidly. “Don’t forget your place, Inspector Griff. I put you where you are. I can toss you out into the gutter just as easily.”
The stern tone of his superior compelled Griff to sit up, as if to attention. He hated that Wash could still make him do that, like a dog being commanded to beg or roll over. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and cleared his throat, “My apologies, ma’am,” he said, a little more cockily than he’d intended.
“You got the device, so for that you deserve some credit,” Wash went on, before leaning in towards Griff. “But you’re becoming sloppy. Sentimental.”
Griff scowled as Wash stood up and marched around in front of him. She perched on the edge of the table, brushing the ashtray away, then peered down at him. Griff caught himself staring at Wash’s ass, before forcing his eyes to meet hers.
“You were seen at New Providence, talking to the Council,” Wash said. Her words were calm, and carefully measured, but Griff could tell she was angry. “Questions were asked further up the chain. Questions that could have shone a light on my plan, and implicated others. Others who are not as tolerant of failure as I am.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Griff said. He hadn’t even considered that his presence on New Providence might have been reported, or even observed at all. “I just had some business to deal with, that’s all.”
Wash laughed, then repeated Griff’s words back to him, in a mocking tone. “I just had some business to deal with…” she said, as she slid off the table and sashayed back to her seat. Griff caught himself watching her ass again, but then felt dirty for doing it. “You should have killed Hudson Powell and the girl when you had the chance. Next time, I expect you not to fail.”
“The girl won’t be a problem anymore,” said Griff, unable to prevent a smile from curling his lips. “And as for Powell, I’ll deal with him soon enough.”
“Make sure that you do,” said Wash. Her tone sounded moderately less menacing now that she’d administered her verbal beating. She then pushed the scendar device back across the table to Griff. “Now, take this thing and find me a new portal and a fresh new alien wreck.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Griff, grateful that Wash had gone relatively easy on him for his detour to New Providence. He stood up and tucked the scendar under his arm, before heading for the door.
“Oh, and Inspector Griff,” Wash called out, as Griff’s hand landed on the door lever. He swallowed hard, and turned back to face her. “I expect my usual cut of the profits from the sale of Liberty Devan to the Council.” Griff clenched his teeth, but said nothing. “And don’t forget, you still owe me for Hudson Powell’s quota. I expect you to make the transfer right away.”
Griff pressed the handle down, adding
so much pressure that it nearly snapped clean off. “Yes, ma’am,” he said again, before pulling open the door and slamming it shut behind him.
CHAPTER 30
Tory Bellona brought the FS-31 patrol craft to a stop two hundred meters in front of the unopened portal. She released the controls and turned to Logan Griff. The RGF Inspector was standing behind Tory and Cutler in the cockpit, anxiously stroking his mustache.
“We’re in position,” said Tory. “Now let’s see if your RGF goons actually knew what they were doing with that device.”
Superintendent Jane Wash had brought a team of engineers with her to the station at Sapphire Alpha. The plan had been to install the scendar into Griff’s ship, and have Cutler along as a defensive escort. However, the stripped back RGF Patrol Craft lacked the systems required to properly interface with the device; it had been fitted to Cutler’s FS-31 instead.
Griff would have preferred not to have involved Cutler at all, given his recent misgivings about him. He’d tried to subtly suggest this to Wash, but she hadn’t wanted to waste time trying to source another suitable vessel. And since Cutler was a known quantity, Wash had ordered Griff to proceed.
Ordinarily, Griff would have worried about the mercenary dispensing with the middle man, by killing him and stealing the device. However, with a dozen RGF Patrol Crafts on standby at Sapphire Alpha, even Cutler Wendell wouldn’t be that audacious, or stupid.
“How about you stick to flying, and let me handle the complicated stuff?” Griff hit back at Tory, but the mercenary just laughed at him, and turned away.
Griff initiated the program that the RGF techs had installed in the computer, then stood back and peered out into space expectantly. Nervous seconds ticked by, but nothing happened. “Shit!” Griff swore, before confirming that the program was actually running. Everything checked out, but the portal still remained closed.
Tory laughed again, “Looks like it was a bit too complicated for them, not surprisingly.”
“Why don’t you just shut the hell up, Tory?!” Griff yelled at her, unable to keep a lid on his temper. His former soft spot for the mercenary was quickly developing a calloused skin.
Tory unclipped her harness and pushed herself out of the pilot’s seat. “Why don’t you make me, asshole?” she said, squaring off against Griff.
“Cutler, can you control your animal?” said Griff, directing the command at the second seat. However, Cutler appeared to be absorbed by the information on one of his monitors, and didn’t respond.
“You’re a real tough guy, aren’t you, Logan Griff?” Tory went on, taking a step towards Griff and jabbing him in the chest with her finger. “It took real guts to lay into the Devan girl, when she couldn’t fight back, right?”
“Cutler…” Griff said again, this time with more urgency. Again, Cutler ignored his plea.
“Then you bound her hands and traded her like cattle,” Tory continued, shoving Griff back again, this time with the flat of her hand. “That must have made you feel really big, right? You pathetic piece of shit!”
Tory’s hands balled into fists. Griff backed away again, but his back hit the rear bulkhead of the cockpit. “Cutler, damn it, call off your hound!”
“Liberty Devan has escaped from New Providence station,” said Cutler Wendell, slowly turning his seat to face the others. The statement cut through the tension like a laser.
“What?” said Griff, sure that he’d misheard.
“My contact on New Providence just confirmed it,” Cutler continued, pointing to the screen he’d been reading. “Liberty Devan escaped with four others aboard a Jewel Star Liners transport.”
“That can’t be right,” Griff snarled, pushing past Tory and staring down at Cutler’s monitor. He skim-read the contents quickly, but it was enough to confirm that what Cutler had said was true. “How is that even possible?” Griff yelled, pounding his fists on the console. “She was bound and locked up in a damn holding cell!”
“My contact says that a skelly was found,” said Cutler, his eyes suddenly flicking to Tory. “Given that the girl was searched, before she was placed into the cell, the Council has concluded that someone smuggled her the device.”
Griff threw his arms out wide, “Who the hell could have done that? She was with us for the entire time.”
Cutler unclipped his harness and stood up, without taking his eyes off Tory. Griff noticed that his right hand was resting on the belt around his hip, just above where his sidearm was holstered. Then Griff glanced across at Tory. Her face was stony, and she made no move, but Griff had seen how quickly Tory could switch gears.
“Wait, you think Tory gave her the skelly?” said Griff. It seemed absurd that Tory would help Liberty Devan, but merely speaking the words out loud seemed to give life to the idea.
“Answer the question, Cutler,” said Tory, without showing a flicker of emotion. She was practically daring him to accuse her directly.
Suddenly, Griff felt exposed. They were all in a cabin no more than four meters square, with only a thin layer of metal and glass separating them from the cold vacuum outside. A gunfight would end up killing them all, but the way Tory was looking at Cutler, Griff fully believed she was crazy enough to start one.
Griff’s gaze flicked back to Cutler, waiting for him to respond. It felt like he hadn’t taken a breath for a full minute.
“No, I do not believe you assisted her escape,” said Cutler, in his usual, dry delivery. Griff finally let the air escape his lungs. However, while the answer may have prevented fists and bullets from flying, to Griff’s ears, Cutler’s answer had dripped with insincerity. And a quick glance back over to Tory suggested that she remained unconvinced too. Then Cutler turned to Griff, and added, “However, the Council will believe that we did.”
Griff felt like he had dodged a bullet, only to step into the line of fire of another. “What does that mean?” he asked, though he was pretty sure that he already knew the answer. “You’re saying that they’ll be coming for us?”
“Almost certainly,” answered Cutler, though his delivery still didn’t betray any emotion.
“And there’s no way to reason with them?” Griff went on, but Cutler merely shook his head.
Suddenly the lights in the cockpit dimmed and a panel on Cutler’s console blinked rapidly. He bent over to check it, scowling.
“We are experiencing a significant power drain,” Cutler called out, as the beat of the ship’s reactor grew louder and faster. “The source is unknown.”
In the gloom, Griff saw the device containing the alien crystal glowing brightly. “Wait a minute,” he said, rushing over to the computer console where the RGF program had been running. “I’m getting something… A massive spatial distortion. Wait…”
Then the cockpit was suddenly drenched in a vivid purple light, forcing them all to turn away and bury their faces in their arms. Alarms rang out all around them, then suddenly silenced. The lights flickered back on, and the thrum of the FS-31’s reactor resumed its normal cadence.
“Shit, it actually worked,” said Griff, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. “The portal is open.”
Cutler glanced at Tory, then returned to his seat to check his instruments. “Inspector Griff is correct; I am reading a portal directly ahead,” said Cutler, while continuing to analyze the readings on his screen. “I suggest we move quickly. The portal opening sent out a tremendous amount of Shaak radiation. It will not be long before others detect the burst, and come looking.”
“I’ll let Wash know to send the patrol craft,” said Griff, hurriedly tapping the message into the console. “But that radiation pulse is acting like a damn beacon. Every hunter in the area will have seen it.” Griff turned to Tory, who had been the only one not to react to the news. “Well, are you going to fly us through, or not?”
Cutler also looked around, eagerly awaiting Tory’s reaction, but she just shrugged. “What’s the point?” she replied. “If the Council is going to hunt us down and kill us, we
need to start looking out for ourselves. To hell with Jane Wash and the RGF.”
“The Council may not listen to reason,” said Griff, sitting down on the rear seat and fastening his harness. “But they understand the language of money. If there’s an alien wreck on the planet that’s through that portal, we get a percentage of every credit that’s made at auction.”
“You think you can buy Werner off?” sneered Tory. “And you had the nerve to call Hudson Powell dumb.”
“They’ll take the money,” said Griff, shrugging off Tory’s insult. “Because once we get done, we’ll all be rich enough to buy our own private armies. We’ll be untouchable.”
Tory shook her head and shrugged again. “You’re delusional,” she laughed, “but, what the hell. it’s not like I have anything better to do. And I’d rather be on a portal world than stuck in here with your farting carcass.”
Griff scowled at Tory, as she made her way back to the pilot’s seat, then glanced across to Cutler. He was eyeing him suspiciously, but remained silent. Tory’s basement-level opinion of Griff meant she was less likely to suspect his statement. It was just more bluster from someone she respected less than the dirt on her boots. Cutler, however, knew Griff was more devious than he appeared.
It was true that Griff only half-believed what he’d said to Tory. He knew it would take more than just credits to get the Council off their backs. If the Council believed that he, Cutler and Tory had double-crossed them, then Werner would make an example of them, to make sure no-one else was stupid enough to repeat their mistake. The only chance of stopping that from happening would be to hand Werner the culprit, along with a substantial amount of compensation. He suspected Cutler was probably thinking the same thing, and he hoped he also had the same fall guy – or more precisely, fall girl – in mind. It was something he planned to raise with the mercenary at the opportune moment. However, first they had to actually bag a big enough score to give them the capital they needed.
