Galactic Blues
Episode 8:
Ain’t Nobody’s Business
A Newton’s Gate serial
by
C.J. Clemens
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
What Is the NGU?
Galactic Blues Serial
Release Schedule
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Follow Us
NGU Releases
Acknowledgments
Character Art
Copyright © 2018
C.J. Clemens
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the authors’ imaginations and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, businesses, and individuals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For more information, visit the authors’ website: NewtonsGate.com
For Andy and Chris...
two brothers who have given us unwavering support.
What Is the NGU?
First, you might ask... who is C.J. Clemens?
C.J. Clemens is the pen name shared by over thirty authors who have written and continue to write an assortment of stories based within the Newton’s Gate Universe.
And what is the Newton’s Gate Universe?
On New Year’s Eve of 2050, humanity launches Newton’s Gate, a gateway meant to enable interstellar exploration. But when the gateway explodes, our greatest achievement morphs into our greatest disaster. Portals begin to appear around the world. Some open and close briefly, others swallow entire cities, while some remain permanently active, linking Earth to a wide array of planets, galaxies, universes, dimensions, and alternate times. Earth has become Grand Central Station for all of existence, bringing humanity into contact with alien humanoids, fantastical creatures, and everything in between.
One consequence is certain: chaos reigns everywhere.
The NGU features a variety of series, ranging from space opera to urban fantasy—epic fantasy to steampunk—thrillers to military sci-fi. Virtually something for everyone!
Galactic Blues Serial
Why a serial?
The authors of Galactic Blues envisioned the series as a limited-run television show, with weekly episodes being released on nine consecutive Mondays, starting on November 5, 2018.
Will we release box sets?
Although we will eventually release each season (nine episodes) in a combined format, we originally conceived Galactic Blues as a weekly form of entertainment that would enable readers to escape into our world for a short time.
Will there be additional seasons?
Yes. We are currently planning a three-season run. Of course, if you can’t get enough of our characters and stories, we will happily keep the “show” flying for a while longer.
How is Galactic Blues connected to the NGU?
The renegade space pirates at the heart of the series—Remy, Dreyla, and Tosh—begin their misadventures within the portal-filled solar system that has birthed Newton’s Gate. But as they soon discover, some portals have a mind of their own.
Release Schedule
Galactic Blues releases:
11/05/18 Episode 1 – Born Under a Bad Sign
11/12/18 Episode 2 – Call It Stormy Monday
11/19/18 Episode 3 – Mean Old World
11/26/18 Episode 4 – That’s All Right
12/03/18 Episode 5 – Got My Mojo Working
12/10/18 Episode 6 – I’m Your Hoochie Coochie Man
12/17/18 Episode 7 – Knock on Wood
12/24/18 Episode 8 – Ain’t Nobody’s Business
12/31/18 Episode 9 – The Sky Is Crying
Chapter 1
REMY
Madame Couche sniffed. “I keep telling Mr. Darkbur they need to clean this place up.”
Captain Remy Bechet followed her gaze, surveying the shabby, yellow-walled room with its crumbling plaster and cracked, brown floor tiles. Two small lamps lit the entire twenty-by-thirty-foot space, which was peppered with beaten-up chairs and couches in various states of decay.
Remy exchanged a glance with Milo. The dworg definitely wasn’t skilled at small talk, but it wasn’t Remy’s place to chitchat with the madam.
After leading them from the fancy, black-and-silver bedroom to the ground floor of the Butcher’s Place, she had guided them through a rear exit of the bar, into a walled, bustling courtyard, and over to a three-story building at the back of the sprawling property. Remy had kept his distance from the dworg and the madam, scanning each nook and cranny along the way, half-expecting Darkbur’s men to spring out with guns and announce that they’d discovered their charade. Luckily, that hadn’t happened, though he had noted the two meaty, armed guards standing on either side of the rear building’s front entrance.
Now, they sat in a waiting room of sorts. Remy tried to act normal, though it was unclear how the servant of a Rot-inflicted dworg should act.
Madame Couche tapped her fingernails on the desk. The young female receptionist gave a little start every time the madam paused and resumed, which seemed to be Couche’s intention.
“As I said, Madame Couche, the doctor is with another client. I’m sure he’ll be out soon,” she said, her voice thin at the edges, then stared at her computer screen with feigned indifference.
Madame Couche turned toward Remy and Milo, a haughty, contemptuous expression still plastered on her face. “You’ll have to excuse the state of this place, Mr. Gimili. Dr. Sanger normally specializes in bod upgrades, you see. Those willing to have machines and gadgets appended to their bodies don’t tend to be the discerning sort.”
Remy grinned, wondering what Commander Shaw would say about that.
There were no signs of complex equipment anywhere. The body modification shop must’ve closed up. No doubt Darkbur had realized he could make more money from dealing life to those who were dying.
“The nano-biotics clients are a step up from his normal clientele,” Madame Couche added.
Remy was puzzled by this. Surely body mod cost a lot, too? Commander Shaw had to have paid a mini-fortune for that impressive arm of hers or, if the rumors were true, gotten Larker Max to pay for it.
Still, sticking people with syringes had to be an easier way for this Dr. Sanger to earn money than fashioning body parts. And with the terrible monopoly that Gono Darkbur exerted over the lifesaving nano-biotics, the crime lord could demand astronomically-high prices for the privilege.
An inner door opened, and a well-dressed woman in her late sixties stepped into the waiting room, followed by a hunched man that Remy guessed was her husband. His deeply grooved face and haggard yet strong body suggested he was a hardcore miner wrapped in an expensive suit.
“Mr. Wymer, how nice to see you,” Madame Couche said in liquid-smooth tones.
The wife shot her a nasty look.
“And this must be Mrs. Wymer,” the madam continued. “Charming.”
The wife tugged at the husband’s arm, making him cough. The two quickly exited the building, and an awkward silence ensued.
“Let me guess,” Remy said wryly, “Mr. Wymer is a client of yours.”
&
nbsp; Madame Couche’s violet eyes roved across his face. “You are quite impertinent for a servant, young man.”
Remy could’ve bitten off his tongue for falling out of character. He flashed a look at Milo, prompting him to rectify the situation.
But Madame Couche spoke first. “Of course,” she said with a smug grin. “He owns over twenty mines just north of here.”
And hence is one of the few who can afford your insanely-priced meds.
A tablet buzzed on the receptionist’s desk.
“Mr. Gimili, you can go in now,” she said, addressing Milo and pointing toward the same inner door the Wymers had just used.
Remy waited for Milo to rise and step toward the adjacent room before quickly following him.
“Mr. Gimili, I hope we will see you when you are feeling better?” Madame Couche asked, her head cocked seductively.
Milo nodded and blushed at the same time. He wasn’t acting, but the performance was still perfect.
Remy walked ahead and led Milo through the door into an even grungier, more cluttered space. Now here was a location where he could imagine people having body mods installed.
It was a cross between a doctor’s office and an electronics supplier. An examination table and assorted medical tools occupied the center of the room, while fascinating, half-finished limbs of carbon alloy lay or hung everywhere along the perimeter. Wires and fake rubbery skin clogged up every available inch of several benches and shelves. Machines whirred and shuddered. Condensation clogged the windows of cooling chambers, so Remy couldn’t see beyond their glass fronts.
His attention turned to the doctor sitting at a large desk in the back of the room. The stocky, middle-aged man had a wide, impassive face and beady eyes hiding behind tiny round glasses. He rose to a height just a little taller than Milo and pressed a button on his desk that automatically closed the door behind them.
“Gentlemen,” Dr. Sanger said with an appraising look at Milo and a half-glance up at Remy. He tottered around the desk and shook the dworg’s hand. “Madame Couche tells me you are in need of a dose of nano-biotics.”
“Yes, I’m afraid with the recent shipment hijacked, and my own personal stock depleted, I’m running late on my dose,” Milo said, perfectly on script. He dabbed his nose with a handkerchief for emphasis.
“Please, sit up on the examination table, and we can get this taken care of right away.” Dr. Sanger stretched out his hand toward the uninviting, cracked, plastic mattress, the only uncluttered surface in the room.
While Milo complied with his instructions, the doctor disappeared into an adjacent chamber. Remy could hear either hydraulics or something pressurized being opened. A moment later, the doctor reappeared with a syringe held aloft.
So, the storage room was unlocked—for now, at least. The doctor was sloppy with security during opening hours, probably trusting the madam’s abilities to vet anyone in need of his services. Naturally, having access to two beefy security guards likely eased his mind as well.
Good to know.
Of course, the fridge itself—or whatever hydraulics-based container housed the meds—might well be locked. Still, the doctor had opened it pretty damn quickly, so it was either unprotected or biometrically unlocked, with a finger swipe or face rec or some type of DNA scan.
If they were gonna get the meds, Remy would have to know which it was. And until that point, they needed to keep this doctor alive.
They knew where the nano-biotics were being stored. Sort of. Now, they just needed to breach the holding container and retrieve them.
Remy hoped Tosh and the gear he’d requested were already inside Bane’s walls.
He watched as Milo received a dose of the nans. The dworg probably needed them, so it wasn’t a bad thing. The fact that Darkbur’s people had just charged him thirty-five thousand credits for the shot was another matter. The poor miners on Vox were screwed.
Damn it. There he was again, thinking about something other than getting himself, Dreyla, and Tosh off the planet. He had to remember why he was doing all of this.
Once Milo had thanked the doctor, Remy followed his “boss” out into the courtyard. They needed to return to their hotel and fill in the rest of the team on the next steps of this crazy-ass plan.
Chapter 2
DREYLA
When Remy and Milo finally returned to the hotel suite where the rest of the group awaited them, Dreyla felt more relieved than she’d care to admit, even to herself. Even better, no blood or bruises marred Remy’s face. A refreshing change. And Milo, marching alongside Remy, looked none the worse for having been injected with the nans.
Dreyla had to hand it to the dworg—he was brave to have endured the potentially dangerous ruse. If the rest of his race were as feisty and courageous as him, she wouldn’t mind getting to know more of them. She still wasn’t sure about the aflins, though.
Scanning the group, Remy asked, “Any word on Tosh?”
Lady Ris smiled. “On his way, Captain.”
Dreyla frowned. “Wait, on his way? He’s not here yet?”
All eyes shifted toward Lady Ris, as if prompting an explanation.
The head monk grinned. “I am afraid it took us a while to track the good doctor down. Our monastery has many beautiful aspects, and it is all too easy for an inquiring soul to lose track of time.”
Heads dipped as people tried to suppress their laughter. Dreyla glanced at Sheriff Lilly and spotted her lips quivering. Remy remained stony-faced, though.
“There will be two Ladies of Morbious accompanying him here for security,” Lady Ris continued. “They should be arriving in a couple of hours.”
“Are they hiding him in a container like you did for the captain?” Dreyla asked.
The doc was somewhat claustrophobic, so that wouldn’t go down too well.
“He suggested that he portray one of their fathers,” Lady Ris explained.
Dreyla squirmed. The image of Tosh canoodling with the women was too fresh in her mind. Hard to envision him as a monk’s dad.
“Unfortunately,” Lady Ris continued, “we knew that would not work, given the facial scans at the city’s gates. So, yes, I am afraid he will be traveling via trunk.”
Although Dreyla sympathized with Tosh’s phobia, she felt strangely relieved.
“As long as the doc has my gear, we’re all good,” Remy said.
Lady Ris nodded.
“Great, then we gear up tomorrow night and get things rolling,” Remy said.
Nobody, Dreyla noted, argued with him. Remy always considered his plans the absolute best, and at least fifty percent of the time, they worked out pretty well. Of course, the other fifty percent of his schemes often went batshit crazy, nearly getting them all killed. But somehow, the captain would always pull himself and his crew out of the fire… usually at the last moment.
From Dreyla’s perspective, the current plan was as solid as it could be. Since patrons often spilled out into the Butcher’s Place courtyard that separated the saloon and the building housing the meds, the team could count on any decent diversion drawing attention away from the doctor’s office. She and Remy had utilized the ploy of staged fights several times before, albeit usually in rowdier, more crowded situations where you couldn’t tell who was doing what. That part worried her a little.
Assuming the diversion in the courtyard worked, a few of them planned to glide down from the adjacent hotel and onto the roof of the rear building. There, they would cut their way into the structure and finally work their way down to where the drugs were being kept. Then they’d swipe them and get the hell out of there.
Simple.
But since nothing was ever simple, she started worrying again. Gradually, she sensed that Remy was looking at her.
“Drey, what is it?” he asked, the lines around his eyes deepening with concern.
“Too simple,” she said flatly.
“The plan?”
She nodded.
“Simple is good,” Ja
cer opined. “Simple has fewer moving parts that can go wrong.”
Yes, even Jacer had fallen under the captain’s spell. Amazing, considering how Remy had started out on this planet as a cuffed criminal a mere week ago. But then again, this was Remy Bechet. His confidence and charm were unparalleled in his galaxy or, it would appear, in any other. He had won them all over.
Well, everyone except Lilly, whose scowls and jibes at the captain served as constant reminders that she still considered herself the leader of the pack.
“You worry too much,” Remy told Dreyla.
“The plan does seem pretty sound,” Milo added, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow, inviting her to debate its merits.
She shrugged, unable to articulate her concern. There was still something they hadn’t considered—some detail they had overlooked. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Relax… everyone, relax.” Remy spread his arms wide. “We’ll just hang low tonight. Tosh will come in with the gear. Then tomorrow night, we’ll hit the doctor’s office, and bam, we’re outta here.”
“Bam, huh?” Lilly piped up.
The sheriff and the captain eyed each other like opposing war chiefs poised for battle.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to relax until I’m back in my pad in Naillik,” Davis said.
The others murmured in agreement, adopting more relaxed positions.
Lady Ris wrapped her cloak around herself in a sweeping motion. “I will let you all know when my ladies arrive with your doctor.”
Lilly broke off her stare with Remy and stepped toward Lady Ris. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“No need to, my dear. We—everyone on this planet—are in this together,” Lady Ris said with a beatific smile.
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