Flight of the Javelin: The Complete Series: A Space Opera Box Set

by Rachel Aukes

  “Yes, Throttle?” the Javelin’s central computer responded.

  “I want you to revoke Eddy’s access to board the ship until you get clearance from me. He needs to focus on passing his GP weapons exam.”

  “Consider it done. Eddy’s access has been revoked. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Can you perform a miracle?” Throttle said.

  “I doubt I can help with that.” Rusty’s voice then came through Eddy’s wrist-comm. “Hurry in passing your exam, Eddy. You left the galley a complete mess today.”

  Eddy rolled his eyes. “I told you, I’ll pack up my tools as soon as I finish repairing the heating element.”

  “You always say that you’ll pack up your tools, but then you always leave them out. You’re a slob, Eddy.”

  “Complain later. Eddy has to focus,” Throttle said into her wrist-comm.

  “Fine. You know where to find me,” Rusty said.

  She looked back up at Eddy to find him staring slack-jawed at her. Finn tried to smother a chuckle, while Sylvian watched in surprise.

  “You can’t do that,” Eddy said finally.

  “I’m the captain, and I used my credits to cover all of the costs of the Javelin. That makes it my ship,” she said.

  He guffawed. “But the Javelin wouldn’t even be flying if it wasn’t for me. You need me.”

  Throttle nodded. “We need each other. That’s why we need you to get your specialist rating. Consider this motivation. The sooner you pass, the sooner you can get back onto the Javelin.”

  “No. It’s called punishment, not motivation,” Eddy countered. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

  “In your bunk in the cadet bunkhouse,” she answered.

  The engineer watched for several long seconds before blinking and turning back to his rifle. He raised it and fired off several photon shots, all missing the target.

  Sylvian gave Throttle a small smile. “At least he’s receptive to training now.”

  Throttle glanced over her shoulder to see Chief walking to the door.

  “Chief,” she called out behind him as she strode to catch up.

  He paused and turned back to her.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He pursed his lips as though deciding if he would tell her the truth or feed her a line of bullshit. “A marshal’s emergency locator transmitter just went offline.”

  Throttle frowned. “I thought ELTs never go offline.”

  “They can go offline if they are destroyed. That’s why I need to find out what happened.” The door opened to reveal a marshal waiting at the controls of a two-person tram. Chief climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Let me help,” she said, standing in the doorway.

  Chief eyed her. “You’re still officially on medical leave. You don’t get your marshal’s badge back until I declare you fit for duty.”

  She said, “I passed all my medical tests. I’m fit for duty.”

  The tram accelerated. Chief held up a hand, and the tram stopped abruptly. He turned around to look at her. “You haven’t been wearing those new legs of yours for two months yet, and you barely passed the endurance test last week because you fell, not once, but twice during your run.”

  “But I did pass,” she countered.

  “You ran a mile in eight minutes and fifty-nine seconds. That’s one second away from failing the test. Any marshal on my team needs to do a hell of a lot better than barely passing.” His lips thinned. “My office is over a mile from here. Make it up there in under eight minutes”—he held up a finger—“without falling on your ass, and I’ll see about giving you back your badge.”

  The tram sped away.

  “Atlas, on,” she said aloud, and the implant in her left eye opened a heads-up display, called a HUD, through her vision. “Show me routes and distance from my current location to Chief Cormac Roux’s office.” The screen morphed into a map of Free Station, displaying several route options. The shortest distance was one point two miles, which she selected. “Okay. Record my travel time.”

  She glanced over to see Finn and Sylvian standing in the doorway. She nodded in Eddy’s direction. “Get him on that target, and I’ll get us a new assignment.”

  Without waiting for a response, she broke into a run down the long hallway. She turned corners without slowing, and rather than waiting to ride the lift up to the next level, grabbed onto the low-g vertical bar that ran alongside the lift and pulled herself up, jumping off when she reached the next level. Her legs absorbed the impact flawlessly, which was saying a lot since both legs had been amputated above the knees two years earlier.

  With flexible, curved prosthetic blades for legs and new spinal implants, the sensations below her waist still felt alien to her. She’d lost more than forty pounds of dead weight, which made her feel stronger and also like a part of her had been stolen. Since she could now control her legs nearly as easily as she could control her arms, it seemed too good to be true still, like a temporary gift that could be taken from her at any time. Before her amputation, she’d never expected that dealing with the conflicting emotions that came with the blades would be as hard as dealing with the new limbs themselves.

  Even with the challenges of prosthetics, she never wanted to give them up. Back home in the Trappist system, the technology involved in a spinal implant had been far too expensive. Here in the newer Ross system, it was a simple surgery with all costs covered completely under the Galactic Peacekeepers medical plan. The moment she’d received her marshal’s badge, she’d signed up for the prosthetic department’s waiting list. Getting fit was the easy part. Waiting another six months for the blades to be built and delivered had seemed to drag on forever.

  One of the perks of joining the Galactic Peacekeepers was that they had terrific benefits, which she discovered was necessary for retaining marshals. Not long after she signed up to join the Galactic Peacekeepers, she discovered that nearly every marshal she’d met had a prosthetic limb or medical implants of some type or another. Chief, for example, had a prosthetic ear.

  The software and hardware specialists, such as Sylvian and (hopefully) Eddy, had it easier. Working at desks proved to be much easier on one’s health than hunting fugitives across space. But neither Throttle nor Finn could sit behind a desk for long, just like the other Peacekeepers who’d chosen to go the marshal route.

  She tumbled at a turn but grabbed the railing in time to keep herself from falling. She regained her footing, noticed the time on her HUD, and ran faster. She weaved around specialists, who comprised over half of Free Station’s population. There were fewer marshals than Throttle had expected when she first joined. Out of over three thousand Peacekeepers serving the Ross system, fewer than eight hundred of those were marshals, primarily because each colony had its own law enforcement entity. The marshals dealt with the dregs outside the colonies while the software and hardware specialists kept the information flowing across the system; the bulk of GP employees served as data specialists, brokering data across the colonies.

  The dregs the marshals brought in were most often pirates who attacked ships traveling through the system. Nearly all pirates in the Ross system worked for Anna East and operated out of the Jade-8 colony. She had ordered the deaths of several of Throttle’s crew, and East was the reason Throttle had joined the Peacekeepers. She was ready to pay back the crime boss, with interest.

  “Hey, watch out!”

  Throttle spun and swerved in time to keep from plowing through a short specialist with a thick waist. She shoved off him to keep from falling, raising a torrent of curse words from the specialist, and she ignored him as she kept running through the Galactic Peacekeeper headquarters of the Ross system.

  She reached Chief’s office in seven minutes and fifty-two seconds. Another marshal stood propped against the wall next to Chief’s closed door.

  She bent and sucked in deep breaths. “Atlas, send my trip summary to Chief Roux.” When the confirmation flashed across h
er HUD, she said, “Atlas, off.”

  “I’m guessing you’re a part of the Trappist team of Peacekeepers I keep hearing about,” the man said.

  Throttle turned to face him. He wore the standard black fatigues worn by many Peacekeepers, with the platinum badge as the only design feature. He was taller than her, like most men were, with dark hair and Asian features that reminded her of an old friend she’d left back in the Trappist system.

  “If what you hear is great things, then yeah, I’m one of them,” she said.

  His brows rose. “By ‘great’, are you referring to the massive amount of complaints that rolled in from that mining colony near the outer rim? Something about a team of Peacekeepers destroying a space dock?”

  She chortled. “We didn’t destroy it. The pirate ship that we shot down destroyed the dock when they crashed into it.”

  He grinned. “Now, that sounds like my kind of team.”

  She held out her hand. “The name’s Throttle Reyne.”

  He pushed off the wall and shook her hand. “Throttle, nice work on bringing down that hacker Quincy in the dust belt. I’m Punch Durand.”

  She wiped sweat from her forehead. “Punch? I imagine there’s an entertaining story behind your name.”

  “Depends on who you ask,” he said but didn’t elaborate further. He cocked his head as he watched her. “Chief’s always had a knack at finding strays, but I think you might be the farthest from here. I always figured people would emerge from the Trappist system at some time or another.”

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect any more of us. Back home, everyone believes that they’re the only humans left in the galaxy, and they don’t have much interest in expanding, not after terraforming an entire system,” she said. “Where are you from?”

  “Oh, not really anywhere in particular. Here and there. I bounced around a lot before Chief and I crossed paths.”

  She smirked. “It sounds like you were a stray, too, before Chief took you in.”

  “That I was. Still am a stray, I suppose. Only difference is now I have Free Station I can come back to when I need a semi-comfortable bed and a hot meal.”

  Chief’s tram emerged from around the corner. He climbed off and his gaze settled on Throttle. “You nearly went over eight minutes.”

  She was glad she was no longer panting. “It was one point two miles and not on an open track. I’d like to see you do better.”

  Chief gave her the smallest of smiles before opening his office door and motioning for the pair to enter.

  Throttle entered first. Punch closed the door behind them. Chief took a seat behind his desk, a simple black table made of some kind of composite. He ran his fingers over the touchscreen built into the flat surface of the desk, and an image appeared on the wall screen to his right.

  Punch walked over to the screen, where the layout of an unfamiliar ship and its schematics were displayed.

  “A seed ship?” Punch asked. “Aw, hell. Don’t tell me someone was stupid enough to attack a Red ship.”

  Their boss nodded. “The Wu Zetian, a fully automated Chinese seed ship, was passing through our system when it was hit by pirates seventeen hours ago.”

  Punch grimaced. “Idiots.”

  Throttle frowned. “Why does it matter if pirates hit a Red ship versus any other ship out there?”

  Chief answered, “Where any other supernation sees piracy as an inevitable risk of space travel, the Red Dynasty views an attack on any of their ships as an attack on the supernation itself. And this case is no different. They’ve given us fourteen days to apprehend and serve justice to those responsible for raiding a Chinese ship.”

  Throttle’s brows rose. “Isn’t that skipping the judge-and-jury step?”

  “The Red Dynasty judges and determines punishment through virtual trials. The Galactic Peacekeepers have an agreement in place that we will carry out punishment as they prescribe.”

  “We’ve only got thirteen days left on the clock,” Punch corrected. “Why didn’t they notify you as soon as their ship was attacked?”

  “They did,” Chief said. “I assigned Marshal Pete Antonov since he was already in the sector. The problem is that Pete’s ELT went offline twelve minutes ago.”

  Punch grimaced. “We have to assume he’s dead.”

  “No. We assume he’s alive until we have proof otherwise. The last coordinates we have on Pete was aboard the Wu Zetian, not far from the Tumbleweed Trail.”

  Punch groaned. “I hate that area.”

  “Why?” Throttle asked.

  “That area’s haunted,” Punch answered.

  She raised a brow. “Haunted?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. More ships have been lost near that asteroid field than anywhere else in the system.”

  “The asteroids are rich in metals. They are known to cause interference with systems, but I’m not convinced that’s what happened to Pete’s ELT,” Chief said.

  Throttle shrugged. “Why not? It seems like the most likely scenario.”

  “Because his signal would’ve broadcast once he was clear of the sector.” Chief shook his head. “No. It’s not the asteroids. He was transmitting fine until the signal turned to ice. The Red Dynasty also has a complete video feed from the Wu Zetian during the attack, so it was far enough from the asteroids for a clear signal.”

  “Did their feed get the ship that attacked them?” Punch asked.

  Chief tapped several keystrokes, and the image on the wall screen changed to a different ship. “Unfortunately, the attacking ship isn’t in our database.”

  Throttle’s heart beat faster, and her jaw tightened at seeing the ship. “It’s called the Bendix.”

  Both men turned to her.

  “You’ve seen this ship before?” Chief asked.

  She nodded. “It’s a Jader ship. One in Anna East’s pirate fleet. It raised hell with my ships back at Jade-8. I really hoped that I’d destroyed it.” Her eyes widened as realization hit her. “Hey, that means if we catch these guys, they can tell us where East is hiding.”

  Chief held up his hand. “Our priority is to catch the pirates responsible for attacking the Wu Zetian. If we don’t catch the pirates before fourteen days are up, the Chinese will deem us inept and take it upon themselves to see justice done regardless of collateral damage. The last time they did that to a system, hundreds were dead by the time they deemed adequate justice had been delivered.”

  “Give me five minutes with those pirates after we catch them, and before their execution, and I’ll have a location,” Punch said in grated words.

  “We have to catch them first,” Chief said before motioning back to the screen, where a map of the system displayed. “The feed showed that the ship—which we now know is called the Bendix—departed within an hour of breaching the Wu Zetian, so we have a working radius of where it could be by now. Punch, you’re my best tracker, and I need you to hunt these guys. I’m sending you all the data we have on this case. All resources are at your disposal. Pull every string you have to track these bastards so we can bring them to justice before the deadline.”

  Punch gave a slow nod. “I’ll find them.” The marshal made eye contact with Chief and Throttle before turning and leaving the room.

  Chief turned to Throttle. “You ran salvage ops in your past.”

  “Among other things,” she answered even though his words weren’t posed as a question.

  “I want you and Marshal Martin to head out to the last reported coordinates of Pete and the Wu Zetian. Find Pete—or at least search for signs of what happened. His ship is small and should fit in your cargo bay, and I’ve requisitioned a tug for the Wu Zetian. Bring the ships—and hopefully Pete—home.”

  “I should help Punch track the pirates since we’re running against a deadline,” she countered.

  Chief inhaled deeply. “Pete’s not the first ELT to have gone offline.”

  She stiffened. “What?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Four days ago,
Marshal Caterine Mercier’s ELT went offline when she was leaving Jade-8. We found no sign of her or her ship, so the trail went cold. I’d assumed she’d had a run-in with a gang since Jader gangs are known for taking any tech they can get their hands on. But Pete was nowhere near Jade-8 when his ELT went offline. Someone’s going after Peacekeepers, and I need to know who it is.”

  After the words sank in, she nodded. “I’ll head out right away.”

  “If you see anything that can help Punch, send it right away.”

  She eyed him closely. “If you find out where East is, you’d better pull me in.”

  “I will. I gave you my word when you first joined.” He rummaged through a drawer and tossed something to her. “Oh, and you’ll want this back.”

  She caught the round, dark piece of metal that looked much like a very large coin. The words Galactic Peacekeepers were printed around the top, and One Force for All People was printed along the bottom. In the center was a star surrounded by many worlds. She ran her thumb over the cool metal.

  Chief stood and held out his hand. “Consider yourself officially back on active duty, Marshal Reyne.”

  She shook his hand with a smirk. “My father was Marshal Reyne, and it seemed like everyone wanted to kill him just for having that title. I’d rather go by Throttle.”

  “You think it’s any different in this system? Go. You’re also running up against a deadline. A Chinese reclamation team is on its way to collect the Wu Zetian as we speak. Based on their last communication to me, they’ll reach Free Station in fourteen days. If we don’t have both their ship and those responsible for attacking it by then, there will be more bloodshed.”

  Throttle’s lips thinned. “My crew and I will leave right away.”

  “Good. All the hardware is on its way to your ship now. I’ll have all the data sent to your personal Atlas network, including the flight plan.”

  She nodded and turned to go.

  “Throttle,” Chief said.

  She turned back to him.

  “Steer clear of the Tumbleweed Trail. Any old-timer will tell you it’s haunted. But they say that because the metals and space junk out there draw in scavengers and pirates that could cause more than a few problems for anyone.”