Galactic Blues - Box Set Episodes 1-3: A Newton's Gate Space Opera Adventure (Galactic Blues Box Set)

by C. J. Clemens

  “Pretty,” she remarked, rewarding Remy with a small smile.

  “See, you just need the right music for the job. Save your fusion hip-hop for when we’re cleaning the cargo hold.”

  “We never clean the—”

  Another massive explosion drowned out her words. She yelped as the aftershock rattled through her, crunching her bones together inside her stiffened limbs. This time, the Jay had taken a direct hit, and she couldn’t tell from which side.

  “Holy shit,” Remy yelled.

  A bead of sweat trickled from his dark hairline, down his clenched jaw, and into the collar of his shirt as he pumped the blaster for all it was worth, all the while yelling commands in staccato at poor Newman. Judging by the ferocity of the swearing, her captain wasn’t as on top of the situation as he’d initially claimed.

  She tapped the edges of her console, wishing she could help the two men shove some of those blades into the next dimension. Or at least tackle something more energetic than just waiting here. But she had her task. The computer had almost figured out the route. The tracing algorithm, if left on its own, would do a brute-force search through all the possibilities, taking hours they didn’t have. By chopping it up, though, with some quick and dirty optimization heuristics she had a particular knack for, she could speed up the operation.

  It was enough. It had to be. While waiting for the computer to finish, she found herself drumming her fingers in time to the music, which annoyed her. She stopped before Remy noticed.

  “Hah!” Newman shook out his blond curls. He’d hit a UNSF ship, too, sending its disabled hulk careening off course. He winked at her. “Captain’s not the only one with good aim around here.”

  Dreyla gave him a curt nod. “Yeah, just three more to go, Flash.”

  A ping from her console sounded. Bingo. The algorithm had coughed up the route. Working fast, she locked it into Remy’s station so he could access the details and, when able to concentrate on steering again, fly the ship accordingly. For now, she’d have to rely on the A.I. system to handle the task.

  Meanwhile, by unspoken agreement, she’d stay on the nav controls to fine-tune the route on their suicide trek. If they were going to die, she didn’t want it to result from her error.

  As the two men kept blasting, and the ship kept shuddering under response attacks, Dreyla closed her mind to everything except nudging the ship in different directions, reining the Jay back on course whenever a jolt threw her off. She felt at one with the route planner and with her two fellow bridge members. Usually, their cooperation was a well-oiled machine, one they’d utilized many times, to slip out of many tight spaces. With any luck, that would be the case yet again.

  Dreyla and the two men whooped in unison when one of the blades crashed into a small asteroid they’d only narrowly avoided themselves. Its crew was probably using automatic navigation, prone to miscalculations in this weird quantum asteroid belt that didn’t seem to follow the standard laws of physics.

  A little burst of hope ignited in the pit of her stomach. Maybe, just maybe, they’d get out of this alive, even with those fifty thousand, high-value Teez chips in the cargo hold. Maybe Remy’s massive gamble had paid off.

  The spark of hope flared into full-blown elation when the darkness of the screen told her they’d lost their remaining two pursuers, who must’ve fallen behind in the maze of asteroids in the Jay’s wake. She turned to Remy, letting the blissful silence speak for itself. Grinning smugly as usual, he spread his hands in an I-told-you-so fashion. She felt a wave of magnanimity for him and, yes, even his crappy music.

  “Time to play your victory song?” she asked.

  Remy wiped his brow. “I like your thinking, Drey, but we’re not out of the woods yet.”

  Chapter 4

  LILLY

  Lilly continued her methodical trek down the corridor, her two deputies trailing her closely. She could sense their nerves were on edge. Davis would be alright. Brand, on the other hand, was probably too green to be on this kind of op.

  Based on the lights here and there, Lilly knew the building still had power, which meant the solar panels mounted on the roof were still functioning. Despite that, many of the light fixtures were broken, so she found it tough to see in some of the windowless areas of the warehouse. In fact, the pattern of darkened spots seemed deliberate, compelling Lilly to head for the darkest hallway off the main artery. Luckily, the emergency lights on her and her deputies’ jackets emitted enough of a reddish glow to avoid stumbling into the debris strewn across the path.

  At the far end of the corridor, a band of amber light stretched from beneath a closed door. When a shadow drifted across the beam, Lilly stopped and held up a hand to halt her deputies. In the tense silence, she heard rapid, shallow breaths coming from Brand. She wanted to send her back to the transport vehicle, but it was too late now.

  “Wait for my signal,” she mouthed at Davis, who nodded in return.

  She drew her gun, nudged the door open a fraction, and tried to assess the situation. Illuminated by an overhead light and at least one curtain-free window, the room resembled a former medic station. Through the crack in the door, she could see two bare cots against one wall and an array of defunct monitoring equipment.

  Lilly carefully widened the gap. Seated behind an out-of-place desk was the familiar shape of Yercer Taul, a broad, meaty man with a menacing goatee, steely eyes, and a bald head that glowed under the lighting. An open crate, presumably containing the fake nano-biotics, sat atop the desk.

  Lounging by one of two dusty windows were three of his lackeys, all skinnier and shorter than their boss, dressed in casual, unassuming garb but armed with powerful guns. Nearest to Lilly stood two down-on-their-luck miners who seemed barely better off than the two vagrants she’d just seen in the makeshift bedroom. Worse, they appeared to be negotiating with Yercer.

  “Three hundred credits,” he said in a deep, matter-of-fact tone. “You won’t get better value in town or anywhere out along the Rim.”

  Lilly doubted that. Even if the nano-biotics he was selling weren’t counterfeit, the miners could probably find a better deal elsewhere. Especially where desperation flourished, like in the mining areas along the canyon rim that partially encircled the town of Naillik.

  She took a slow, steady breath. Three hundred credits amounted to more than a month’s salary for a miner. Bastard. Yercer was one of Gono Darkbur’s top lieutenants, quite skilled in extracting money from those who could least afford it. A few trusted informants had told her that he might be trying to set up shop in Naillik.

  Yeah. Over my dead body.

  After nodding at her deputies, Lilly swung the door open, held up her repulsor pistol, and pointed it at Yercer. Davis and Brand flanked her on either side, just as they’d been trained to do in such a situation.

  “Drop your weapons,” Lilly ordered, not taking her eyes off Yercer.

  Yercer’s eyes lit with amusement. “Ah, the lady sheriff, stepping into her old man’s shoes now he’s dead and buried. Pretty little thing that you are. How touching.”

  “How ’bout I touch you with this?” Lilly inched nearer, aiming her pistol at the man’s barrel chest. Though the energy wave wouldn’t kill him, it could knock him out long enough to cuff him and drag him back to her station for questioning. Plus, it would hurt like hell.

  In a swift move, Yercer leapt to his feet, propelled his chair sideways, and darted toward the two hapless miners. Using them as a partial barrier, he grabbed them both by the scruff of their necks and retreated toward a rear exit. Barely out of their teens, the two guys probably regretted ever stepping foot on the planet.

  Grunting with disgust, Lilly followed Yercer and his reluctant human shields across the room. Given his height, he couldn’t fully hide behind the two miners, so she took her chance and aimed at his smirking face. Unfortunately, one of her shots whizzed by Yercer’s shoulder, while another hit one of the poor miners in the chest. The luckless young man staggered an
d fell, and without a second glance, Yercer left him sprawled on the ground as he continued to drag the second miner toward the exit.

  Behind her, Davis and Brand fired off rounds, keeping Yercer’s three lackeys at bay. Lilly paused to ensure they had the situation under control, hoping she’d be free to concentrate on snagging Yercer. Just as she turned, though, she saw one of Brand’s wayward shots hit an already weakened wall. Large cracks resembling lightning forks spread across the plaster, and a second later, a huge chunk of wall collapsed with a mighty groan, bringing part of the ceiling down on her deputies and two of Yercer’s lackeys.

  The room filled with dust. Lilly coughed and her eyes watered, but she didn’t have the luxury of checking on her deputies under the rubble. Yercer had pulled out a gun with his free hand, and even worse, the last minion standing had joined him and was now aiming his weapon at her, too.

  She fired at the skinny guy, sending him flying back against another wall, where he slumped to the ground. Ducking instinctively, she avoided the blast that Yercer shot off. Then she responded in kind, hitting him right in the center of his chest.

  Nice.

  Except… instead of dropping, Yercer just twitched, like he was swatting away a fly. He was an enormous, muscular guy. And seriously tough. But still, the blast should have had more of an impact.

  “Lady, you insult me,” Yercer mocked. “Coming at me with such a paltry weapon.”

  He smirked at his lackey still wincing in pain, which gave Lilly just enough time to reach into her other hip holster and pull out her big blaster. She enjoyed seeing Yercer’s widening eyes through the viewpoint of her ultra-deadly KV-360 weapon. Maybe she should have started with this one.

  “How is this for an insult?” she taunted.

  “Now hang on a moment, Sheriff.” For the first time, Yercer’s voice revealed a smidgeon of doubt. Just like all the other scum and useless bureaucrats she’d had to deal with during her initial year as Naillik’s sheriff, he couldn’t show the slightest bit of respect until his goddamn life depended on it.

  “That’s more like it,” she growled, stepping around him and prodding the tip of her gun into a wad of muscle flanking his spine. “Now, let’s try this again. Drop your weapon.”

  Reluctantly, he tossed it on the floor, just as his wounded lackey wobbled to his feet and the other two minions crawled from beneath the rubble.

  “You’re all useless,” Yercer grumbled.

  Lilly pressed her gun against his beefy back. “Tell your lackeys to fall in line, and we’ll make this nice and civilized like.”

  Yercer nodded sullenly at his minions. The trio meekly dropped their weapons and clustered beside him while Davis and Brand emerged from the rubble, dusty as all hell but apparently unscathed.

  With his friend’s help, the miner she’d inadvertently hit also rose to his feet. Together, the two would-be buyers scurried into the darkened corridor. Lilly allowed herself a sigh of relief, grateful she hadn’t permanently harmed an innocent.

  “Move,” she barked at Yercer, indicating he should lead the way outside, through the rear exit.

  Compliant but clearly pissed, he opened the door, stepped into the blinding sunshine, and ventured around the exterior of the warehouse. Lilly occasionally prodded him forward, as her deputies did the same with the three lackeys behind her, but she didn’t relax until they’d cuffed and packed the four criminals into the back of their transport vehicle, along with the crate of fake nano-biotics.

  Arresting Yercer was a terrific score for her and her people, but life back at the sheriff’s station would surely get interesting now. And not in a good way.

  Chapter 5

  REMY

  Despite some damage from the trigger-happy UNSF blades, the Jay had made it through the swirling mass of asteroids and certain death, otherwise known as the Holcom Range. They’d beaten the odds once again. It was becoming a habit.

  Remy released the joystick and swung back to his main controls. “Piece of cake,” he said to Newman.

  No response.

  “Newman?”

  His second-in-command looked ready to pass out, his face paler than the ice mountains on Europa. Same shell-shocked expression his gunner wore after every engagement.

  “It’s okay, Newman. We did good.”

  Newman gazed at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t know how much longer my nerves can take flyin’ with you, Cap.” He shook his head a couple of times, blinked his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

  Remy glanced at Dreyla.

  She raised her eyebrows, then gave him a quick smile. “I’m getting the route up for our rendezvous with Tyson Milstone on Bernhal 3,” she said.

  “Good. Thanks, Drey.”

  His buoyant mood deflated at this reminder of the next stage in their mission. Tyson Milstone, powerful, corrupt, and dog-ugly, was the director of mining who had provided Remy with the plans of the Yertie Commons mining facility—Tyson’s direct competition. How the hell he’d managed to get his hairy hands on that information, Remy didn’t know. And didn’t really care.

  All that mattered was that the info had allowed him and his crew to bust into the Yert, as the miners called it, grab the goods, and get the hell out again. That was the extent of what he’d needed to know.

  “Tyson should pay us more,” Newman grumbled. “After all that UNSF business.”

  “Yeah, we coulda done without that little plot twist,” Remy agreed. “But if you think we’re gonna get a fraction more than what Tyson agreed to with Larker Max, then that asteroid field has clearly affected your brain.”

  Newman grunted and smoothed back his hair, which seemed a little grayer than it had before the firefight. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this pirating business.”

  Remy laughed. “Old? You ain’t old. Tosh is old.” To be fair, he didn’t know the exact age of the ship’s doctor. Legend suggested a hundred and fifty, but that couldn’t be right. “Why, you’re just a wee babe in Tosh years.”

  “That old man’s only got himself to blame,” Newman muttered. “Should have the good sense to know when to pass on.”

  Dreyla, who was munching on a protein bar, hurled the wrapper at him.

  “What?” Newman grinned, finally starting to relax again.

  “Tosh is the best doc in the Belt,” she replied, “and he’s…”

  “Stoned all the time,” finished Newman.

  “No, he’s sweet,” she said.

  Chuckling, Remy tapped a spot beneath his console, and a concealed compartment popped open, revealing his antique, but still deadly, Colt .45. Relishing the stress-free moment, he leaned back in his chair and polished the piece with the hem of his shirt.

  “Captain, main power’s going offline,” Dreyla informed him.

  Remy nodded, lowered the pistol to his lap, and sank against the headrest. Was it time for him to go offline, too, and grab the overdue sleep that had eluded him for two days? Maybe a whiskey would dull the adrenaline spiking in his system.

  After ensuring that Dreyla was looking elsewhere, he opened another hidden compartment beneath his console. Just as his fingers closed around the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniels, the comms unit crackled.

  “Cap, something’s goin’ on,” Tosh’s creaky voice said via the comms.

  Speak of the devil.

  But he didn’t sound right. There was an edge to the old man’s words that made Remy’s hair stand on end. He released the whiskey bottle and slammed the compartment door shut.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “I found Brinx dead.”

  Remy’s stomach plummeted to his boots and shot back up again to punch him in the solar plexus. Brinx was the strongest guy on the ship and sharp as a blade. “What? How?”

  “Multiple stab wounds. And his throat was cut.”

  Remy grabbed his Colt .45 and leapt from his chair. His two crew members on the bridge were staring at him. They’d heard Tosh, too.

  “Drey, stay on nav,” he ordered. “
Newman, I think we have a mutiny on our hands.”

  “I hate mutinies,” Newman grumbled.

  “Yeah, I’m not a fan either.” Remy slapped on the emergency controls at his station.

  “You’ll blow a hole in the ship with that cannon,” Dreyla said, nodding at the Colt.

  “Hey,” Remy said, shooting her a manic grin. “It’s me.”

  Apparently, she wasn’t buying his act. “I should go with you.”

  “Nope. You’re staying right here, safe on the bridge.”

  Remy turned to Newman, who stood beside his console, his lips pursed, a plasma pistol gripped in his hand.

  “Come on, Grumpy,” Remy said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  He cocked his head and led the way off the bridge, aiming for the medbay and wishing the break between crises had lasted a little longer.

  Chapter 6

  LILLY

  Lilly kept the transport vehicle running at top speed by overriding its auto-control. The more time Yercer Taul spent outside the reinforced cell with his name on it, the more she endangered Brand, Davis, and herself, not to mention the wider community of Naillik.

  Nobody had spoken since they’d driven off. As she jerked the steering wheel from side to side, Lilly kept replaying the moment the ceiling had come crashing down. They had gotten lucky. If Brand’s gun had penetrated the support beams, the whole damn thing could have collapsed. She and her deputies would all be dead, and worse, Yercer might be roaming free, peddling his fake meds to unsuspecting miners.

  Her two deputies squashed beside her were staring steadfastly ahead. Davis fiddled with his holster when he wasn’t gripping the overhead handle for support. Brand, at the side window, winced as each cloud of sand and dust rained against the vehicle, as if she’d never experienced a sandstorm before. Both of them were likely still on edge from what had happened.

  As they crested over the next dune, the platinum-alloy roof of her sheriff’s office gleamed in the distance. The enormous building had been dropped out of orbit, in sections, courtesy of the Vox Council. When the original building had been destroyed in an attempt to take out Naillik’s law enforcement a year ago, she had wanted the new one built on-planet, by people she knew. In the end, the Council and the home world had decided otherwise, choosing to send the pieces from the other side of the galaxy. Typical bureaucratic bullshit. The top floor hadn’t even arrived until two months ago.