by Rachel Aukes
“We want to come, too,” Sylvian said.
Throttle smiled. Her spirit lightened. “It’s good to have you. Both of you.”
“Welcome aboard, Sylvian and Finn. I’ve missed you,” Rusty said.
Sylvian grinned. “Hi, Rusty.” She turned to Finn and chuckled. “I’ve missed him.” She cocked her head. “I mean, I’ve missed it. I’ve been around people so much lately that I’ve forgotten how to talk to a computer.”
Rusty spoke. “It’s all right, Sylvian. I don’t mind the usage of a masculine pronoun. In fact, I find that I prefer it.”
Throttle grunted. “Okay. Our computer’s a ‘he.’ Who knew?” With that, she headed to the bridge and began running through the preflight checks.
Once all the system checks completed, Throttle buckled in. She threw a glance at Sylvian, who returned a smile, and everything felt right. Throttle knew she’d never fully recover from the wound left in her heart when Birk, Nolin, and Garrett were murdered, but she knew that she’d move forward and, eventually, the pain might be a little less—or maybe she’d just become more numb to the ache. Either way, as long as she made herself move forward, she knew she’d be doing what Birk would’ve wanted her to do.
She’d help her crew—what remained of it, anyway—to move forward as well. They needed one another. They were in a system where no one wanted them, but there was no way to go back to the Trappist system, even if they’d wanted to…and Throttle didn’t want to. They were joining a peacekeeping force, which would place them on the opposite side of the law than they’d been most of their lives. They didn’t fit in anywhere and with anyone, but that was no different than what Throttle had been her entire life as a paraplegic in a galaxy of people who could walk and run.
They were black sheep in every sense of the label. She smiled. It was far better to be a black sheep, living a life by her own design, than being one of an endless herd of sheep living monotonous lives that were already laid out for them from birth to grave.
She tapped the ship-wide intercom. “All right, Black Sheep. Get ready for takeoff. We’re about to start a new journey in our adventure.”
“If I may, I’d like to offer a correction to your statement, Throttle,” Rusty said.
“What’s that?”
“I believe the journey is the adventure.”
Epilogue
Anna East lay naked in bed, draped over Skully Pete, her on-again, off-again lover. With a contented sigh, she rolled off him. She propped herself up on an elbow to look at him and ran a hand through his cropped hair. He opened his sleep-filled eyes.
She smiled sensuously. “I never would’ve guessed how nicely you clean up.”
He grumbled, “It’s not me.”
“I like it. Keep it short.”
“No,” he said.
She pouted. He was one of the only people she’d ever met to tell her no, and it was the quality she liked most—and least—about the pirate captain. She ran her fingers across his chest. She liked how he stayed fit. Her fingers brushed over the scar line near his neck. She’d given him that that mark when he’d said no to her the first time. It’d been over something she no longer remembered. All that she remembered was that she’d tried to slice his throat and nearly succeeded, and they’d ended up making love, with his blood dripping onto her.
They were alike, she and Pete. They each had ambition. Though she didn’t care for the collection of skulls in his room—which was why he always came to her room—she cared very much for his dedication to her. He was the only person she trusted. She’d trusted Jakob, but now they’d never get the chance to reconcile.
She danced her fingers over his scar. He grabbed her hand and held it against his chest.
“Maybe I’ll keep it short for a while after this gig wraps up,” he said.
She leaned over and kissed him. “I’d like that.” She leaned back. “Tell me, how are things proceeding?”
He pushed himself higher on the pillow to watch her. “I’ve found a marshal with a family. She’ll be easier to bring over.”
Anna’s lips curled upward. “Good. And have you confirmed that those Trappist murderers were recruited?”
He nodded.
“Throttle Reyne and three of her pals are in basic training now. Within a year, she should be a marshal.” He smirked. “Just like me.”
His expression made her smile and she found herself pulling him to her. “Perfect. I may have missed them on Hiraeth, but there’s no way they’ll be able to escape Free Station when we make our move.”
FREE STATION
Prologue
Yank found that he very much enjoyed sitting in the captain’s seat of the Bendix. He knew his promotion was temporary, but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about ways to make his current role more permanent. His crew of scallywags preferred him to their captain, too. Skully Pete was the most feared pirate captain throughout the Ross system…as well as the most feared pirate to his own crew. His collection of skulls lining the walls in his quarters served as a reminder that Pete didn’t take kindly to anyone who irritated him, and that went doubly for his own crew.
Yank shifted his focus from his captain to the job at hand. He looked out from the bridge, seeing nothing but the black void, stars, and rocks. The asteroid belt produced dangerous debris for the ships that traveled through, but it also provided perfect concealment for any ship not wanting to be detected. As a pirate, Yank considered the asteroid belt practically a second home.
“The seed ship’s on our grid, Yank,” Jazz said from his computer panel.
“When will it be within range?” Yank asked.
“Three minutes. It’s traveling at maximum jump speed,” the computer specialist replied.
“Good. Notify the others.” Yank turned to Benny. “Power up the missile launcher.”
“On it, Yank,” the gunner said.
Yank ran his fingers over the flight controls, switching the engines from standby mode to normal mode. He maneuvered the Bendix out of the crater it had been hiding in and ran it parallel to the asteroid’s surface so as not to draw any attention.
“The target will be here in one minute,” Jazz announced.
Yank increased power to the engines and broke away from the concealment of the asteroid. He flew the ship out of the asteroid belt and lined up on the incoming ship’s trajectory, as though playing chicken with the other ship.
“I’m in position,” Yank said and turned to Benny. “We’ve got only one shot with this, so make it count.”
“I won’t miss,” the gunner said.
“If you do, we’re all dead men,” Yank added.
“Thanks for the motivational talk,” Benny replied drily before adding, “Missile is away.”
Yank peeled away from the seed ship’s flight path and put distance between them. Ships at jump speed moved fast—nearly point three four light speed—but moving at that speed meant they couldn’t turn or move to avoid obstructions without drastically slowing down first, and no ship could slow down quickly in space. The moment the seed ship registered the Bendix in its flight path, it would have to perform an emergency slowdown.
But it was too late.
At the speed the ship was still traveling, the missile burrowed into the center mass of the massive seed ship and flew out the stern, leaving a hole through the center of the ship.
Benny let out a whoop. “Now, that’s a bull’s-eye!”
Yank grinned. “Nice shooting, Benny boy.”
He piloted the Bendix to the Chinese seed ship as the damaged craft decelerated and came to a stop. Alarm lights flashed along its hull, highlighting its name, the Wu Zetian. The ship was so massive that the missile hadn’t broken the ship apart. Debris floated out from it, and Yank was careful to keep out of the path of any forward-moving junk.
He brought the ship alongside the Wu Zetian, and transmitted via the intercom, “Nussbaum, we’re lined up. Hook us up.”
“On it, Yank,” the engineer
replied.
Grappling hooks shot out and secured the small pirate ship to the huge seed ship. Yank knew the motion-activated cameras on the hull were recording everything. Even without the video feeds, the Red Dynasty space operations center in Sol would’ve known something had happened the instant their ship entered emergency mode. Fully automated, the Wu Zetian constantly relayed data to its operations center. That could be a problem if there were marshals nearby. There weren’t.
Even more fortuitous, it was against interstellar law for any automated ship to carry weapons. It was one of the few laws that played into the pirates’ favor.
“Good job, Nuss.” Yank turned to Jazz. “Now.”
The specialist nodded. “Infrared is blinding them, and I’m sending the signal now.” A second later, he grinned. “There. I own their cameras.”
Yank nodded and tapped the transmit button on his panel. “It’s clear. Move in, and do it fast. We’re on the clock.”
He settled back into his seat—Skully Pete’s seat—and watched his grid as dots appeared at the edge of the asteroid belt. He counted all twenty dots to make sure they all made it out of their rocky hidey holes without any problems.
The crew of the Bendix had the most important role in the pirate fleet. By taking the Wu Zetian out of commission and hacking its camera feeds, they’d enabled the most lucrative job in the history of Jader pirates. It was hard trusting the other pirate crews to play their roles, but Yank had faith in Anna East’s plan. If they worked together this one time, she promised they’d be richer than their wildest dreams.
Yank wondered if Anna East knew how big he dreamed.
The other pirate ships approached. They each shot out hooks to tether themselves to the Wu Zetian. Within minutes, pirates emerged from each vessel and spacewalked into the seed ship. All carried weapons. Several tugged large pods behind them.
Watching the daisy-chain sequence of pirates entering the Wu Zetian was lulling Yank to sleep, so he walked to the galley and returned with a bottle of whiskey. Benny held out his hand. Yank took a long swig before handing the bottle to his fellow crew member.
When Benny raised the bottle toward Jazz, the specialist held up a hand. “Not while I’m working.”
Benny shrugged. “More for us, then.”
After several drinks, Yank noticed the time on his screen. He transmitted, “One-hour mark. Pack up and move out.”
Within minutes, each of the other ships retracted their tethers and backed away. Soon, only the Bendix and the Wu Zetian remained. When Yank verified that the fleet had disappeared from the grid, he nodded to Jazz. “Reset the clock, disengage.”
Jazz’s fingers flew over his screen as he worked. “There. Video cameras are back online. Our job’s done.” He grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle and drank.
“It’s only just begun,” Yank said as he released the hooks and pulled away from the Wu Zetian. He brought the Bendix back to the crater within the asteroid where they’d concealed themselves earlier. Once the engines had quieted in standby mode, he leaned back. “Now we wait for the marshal to arrive.”
The marshal from the Galactic Peacekeepers arrived precisely on schedule to investigate the attack. Yank waited until the newcomer came to a stop near the Wu Zetian. Then Yank powered up the Bendix and flew it out of the asteroid belt.
Benny and Jazz had gone to their bunks to sleep off the whiskey. Yank pulled up the weapons system. His fingers hovered over the machine gun as they approached. The marshal had arrived in a small Rabbit-class ship. Fast but not heavily armored. A single direct hit could breach its hull. He smiled, thinking how easy it would be to kill the marshal, but that wouldn’t fit in the game Anna East was playing. His smile faded. He sighed and then pulled back his fingers.
He’d been taking orders his entire life, and he was tired of it. After just one more job, he’d have his own ship and crew, and he’d never have to take orders from anyone again.
Just one more job…
Chapter One
“I’ve seen lousy shots in my time, but they were sharpshooters compared to you, Mr. Edwards. Are you actively trying to miss the target?” Chief Roux asked.
“It’s not my fault. The target’s moving,” Eddy answered, still holding the rifle.
Chief closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose before speaking again. “Of course it’s moving. That’s what it’s supposed to do. The bad guys aren’t going to just stop and stand there and wait for you to shoot them.”
“It’s not like I even need to learn how to fire one of these.” Eddy dropped the photon rifle onto the stand, oblivious to everyone wincing at the careless handling of a loaded weapon. The thin, pale man turned to face Chief. “I’m a hardware specialist, not a soldier. I’m never going to carry a weapon, so why do I have to learn how to use one?”
“You’re not a specialist until you pass all the exams.” Chief sighed. “They’re not hard. You’ve excelled in all other categories except for physical endurance, which I have no idea how you managed to pass. Your agility…” Chief shivered before wagging a finger at Eddy. “The only exam you have left is firearms use and maintenance, which you’re not even coming close to passing. You’ve done great with the maintenance side, but for the life of me, I’ve never seen anyone handle a beam weapon so poorly in my life.”
Eddy shrugged. “I’ll just have Sylvian hack the system and make it show I passed. Then I can be out of your hair.”
Chief’s brows rose before he shook his head slowly. “I did not hear that. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I cut the occasional corner, but I cannot—no—I will not authorize you, or any cadet for that matter, to serve as a Peacekeeper if you can’t handle a weapon. If you happen to find yourself with a weapon in your hands, I want to have some level of confidence that you can at least avoid shooting your fellow Peacekeepers. If you can’t shoot, you put the lives of everyone around you at risk. And that’s something I won’t allow.”
He sighed and turned to face Marshal Throttle Reyne. His features were marred by tension. He had the same shade of dark brown skin as her father had, and when Chief was frustrated, he especially reminded her of her father. They both clenched their jaws with the same air of disappointment.
“We’ll keep working with him.” Throttle threw a glance at Marshal Finn Martin, her partner in the Galactic Peacekeepers, GP for short, and the crew member with the most weapons expertise.
“I’m not sure even that will be enough in this case. Eddy’s been training for exams for two years. That’s twice as long as other cadets,” Chief said.
“Eddy’s certainly not your typical cadet,” Specialist Sylvian Salazar-Martin said quietly.
Chief paid her no attention as he frowned and turned away from the group.
“What is it?” Throttle asked, but he didn’t answer.
“Pete, speak to me,” Chief said, and Throttle knew he was pinging another Peacekeeper’s ear implant. “Pete, this is Chief, report in. Pete, report in, damn it.” A pause. “Chief to Admin, locate Marshal Peter Antonov.” He took several steps away as he continued speaking, and his words became inaudible over the distance.
Throttle turned back to her crew to find Finn eying her.
“I’ve spent a lot of time with Eddy. He’s beyond hope,” he said. At Throttle’s wry look, Finn shrugged. “But I can try again,” he said with a noticeable lack of confidence.
“Let me try to help Eddy,” Sylvian offered.
Throttle narrowed her eyes at the specialist. “Are you sure?”
Finn made a face. “That’s not a good idea. Next to Eddy, Syl’s the weakest of all of us with weapons.”
Sylvian shrugged. “And you’re the best, but when you teach, you sound like a drill sergeant.”
Finn bristled. “No, I don’t.”
Sylvian placed a hand on her husband’s forearm. “You can’t help it. It’s what you know, but your training style can be intimidating to regular people like Eddy and me. I think that if I
work with Eddy, he can get a fresh perspective.”
Throttle nodded. “Try it. Whatever it takes. Come up with a miracle if you have to.”
“I’m never going to pass,” Eddy whined. “Face it, guns and I were never meant to get along.”
Throttle wagged a finger at him. “You’d damn well better pass, Eddy.” She then motioned to her other two team members. “The four of us are a team, remember? We Black Sheep stick together no matter what. We don’t leave anyone behind, not before and not now that we’ve all joined the Peacekeepers. We stick together even if that means Finn, Sylvian, and I have to rotate shifts, training you every hour at the shooting range every day for the next three months.”
“Well, not every hour,” Eddy countered. “I still have plenty of work to do on the Javelin.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that going to work when the three of us go on missions, and you’re just riding along?” Finn asked.
“Chief will let me go just like he’s done for the past year. Besides, Throttle’s still on medical leave, so right now the Javelin’s not going anywhere.”
“I’m going back on active duty any day now,” Throttle said.
“Then I’ll just tag along. I don’t need the Peacekeeper ID card.”
“You can’t live on Free Station as a cadet forever,” Sylvian said.
“Then I’ll just live on the Javelin and hang out while you three do your thing,” Eddy answered.
Finn’s brow rose. “And where are you going to get the credits to live?”
Eddy shrugged. “From you three, of course.”
Throttle eyed Eddy for a brief moment and then tapped her wrist-comm, which was wrapped around her left forearm. The technology had come with her from the Trappist system and was considered archaic in the Ross system, but it was rugged, reliable, and—most importantly to Throttle—on an encrypted network only accessible by her team. “Rusty,” she spoke into the device.
