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

by Rachel Aukes

  Anna looked at the door before stepping closer. She had a smile on her face—a smile that made his skin crawl—and she was as scantily clad as ever. For this day, she wore an iridescent blue gown with thin straps and a slit that reached her hip. Not exactly the typical attire for an assault on a government facility, but she’d always seen herself more like royalty than an invader. Physically, she was quite attractive, but Chief knew that beauty masked a madness that had broken Jade-8 in two and killed hundreds in the aftermath.

  Marshal Dean Hettinger stood next to Chief and had his rifle leveled on the people outside the communications room. He was gripping his rifle so tightly that Chief could hear the creaking of the soldier’s gloves around the composite weapon.

  “At ease, Dean,” Chief said quietly as he tapped the button to open the intercom.

  “Chief Cormac Roux, we finally meet,” Anna said in a sultry voice.

  “Ms. East. Or should I call you by your given name, Ms. West?” Chief responded.

  “I may have been born a West, but I built my business on East,” Anna replied. “You, on the other hand, no longer seem to have any business at all.”

  “Your control of Free Station is temporary and is an interstellar felony. The time you have outside a cell is limited,” Chief said.

  She chuckled. “Ah, Chief Roux, you are correct that my control of Free Station is temporary because Free Station is temporary, and there’s not a thing you can do about it. By now, you should know that I have complete control over Free Station’s systems, including its access points into the Atlas network. Do you understand what that means?”

  Chief gritted his teeth. Fury burned in his clenched fists.

  She gave a knowing smile. “I thought so. You know that not only can I track anyone with an Atlas chip, but I can record anything anyone says or sees, thanks to their chips.” Her smile widened. “Chief, consider all Galactic Peacekeepers in the Ross system officially under my watch.”

  He snarled, “More Peacekeepers will arrive from the other systems. And then you will become the hunted. They’re on their way now.”

  She laughed. “No, they’re not. You didn’t broadcast an emergency signal to the other stations before I took over Atlas. That silly broadcast you made to your Peacekeepers was a mistake.” She shrugged. “Even if you had managed to transmit a signal, it would take them months to arrive, and I’ll have everything I need from Free Station within days; then it’ll suffer an unfortunate and tragic catastrophic failure. All lives on board lost.” She sobered. “You really shouldn’t have broadcast to your people. That complicates my plan and will cause more bloodshed—on your side, not mine.”

  He forced himself to keep his breathing steady, to keep his temper in check. He should have broadcast a code 7500 across the Atlas network before anything else. He’d planned to do that as soon as he completed his announcement to the station, but he’d been too late. No Galactic Peacekeeper station outside the Ross system would have any idea there was a problem going on at Free Station. He hadn’t followed standard protocols, and his people were going to suffer because of it.

  She watched him for a long moment without speaking. As they each stood there, he thought of the armory on level seven and of the technology found throughout the station. There was enough on this station for her to start a war. East and her pirates had access to all of it.

  He inhaled deeply before speaking so that his voice remained calm. “What are you doing here, Ms. East?”

  Her lips curled. “I suppose you’re not going anywhere, so it doesn’t hurt to tell you. When the Trappist colonists reached this system, everyone was surprised. No one had heard from that system in centuries. I’d assumed it was a dead system. But when I learned that it was a thriving system, independent of Sol, I knew that we could have the same thing here. Imagine Ross as a completely independent system.”

  He shook his head. “It’d never happen. Ross depends on Sol for support. I’ve never come across anyone in this system who didn’t want to be connected to Sol.”

  She smiled. “I think you’re wrong. We could survive—even thrive—without Sol.”

  “It still would never happen. Ross provides an interstellar highway between Sol and nearly every other Sol-colonized system.”

  She held up a finger. “And that’s not a problem. If we were to be independent, ships would simply pay a toll to pass through our system. If they didn’t want to pay a toll, they’d have to add months, if not years, onto their trips.”

  “I see.” Chief narrowed his gaze. “You attacked Free Station as your declaration of war for independence.”

  “No. Not at all. I don’t want a war. In fact, I don’t need a war to make Ross a free system.”

  He chuckled drily. “So you think Sol will give up one of their systems without a fight?”

  “I do,” she said plainly and took a step closer before continuing, “Sol never developed an interstellar army. Instead, they created the Galactic Peacekeepers to police and protect every Sol-colonized system. You oversee Ross’s 3,112 Peacekeepers right here from Free Station. For any kind of trouble that takes place within this system, it’s your Peacekeepers who are deployed. However, what would happen if there were suddenly no Peacekeepers in this system?”

  “They’ll send in more,” Chief said slowly and clearly.

  Her brows rose. “Are you so sure? Because I believe that if I offer the Consortium a lucrative proposal along with a promise of no pirate attacks on interstellar traffic, Sol will find that it’s to their benefit to have Ross become an independent system. They’ll save billions of credits every year by not having to have Peacekeepers, ambassadors, administrators, the list goes on and on.”

  Every few years, the Consortium of Sol Colonies brought up the debate of having the systems, or even colonies, become independent. And every time, the debate was tabled because it had no clear answer. He knew Anna East would have some proponents, but she’d have far more opponents. “The Consortium won’t bend to blackmail, and they definitely will not take kindly to a violent declaration of independence.”

  “Ah, but that’s the thing. They won’t see any violence,” she clarified. “The fall of Free Station will be seen as a natural catastrophe, an asteroid that destroyed the station and tragically killed everyone within. By the time GP leadership considers more Peacekeepers, I’ll have made—and won—my case to the Consortium. If they learn the truth, the knowledge that I have the contents of Free Station’s armory in my possession may sway them against wanting to start an armed conflict.”

  Chief could spend an entire day debating with Anna East, explaining to her how her insane proposal would be met with ridicule. He knew her kind. Nearly every mob boss he’d come across in his career had been a narcissist. Each had a vision for reshaping a star system to revolve around them, a vision that logic could never breach.

  Anna East was no different.

  “You make it sound far easier than it is,” he said simply.

  She shrugged. “I expect there to be a few challenges. A certain number of Peacekeepers not on Free Station may choose to fight, but my forces will pick them off one by one. It won’t be hard—through Atlas, I can see and hear everything they do, and I can control any ship on the Atlas network. If they run, I’ll just shut down their ship and then pluck them out of space. Perhaps I’ll shut down all ships now, just to prevent some needless hassle.” She cocked her head. “If the Consortium delegates are anything like you, I expect it will go quite smoothly. You know, for the role this space station plays within the Ross system, Free Station was laughably easy to take.”

  Hearing the words aloud made it difficult for Chief to swallow. The truth was, the Galactic Peacekeepers focused their energies on hunting outlaws and squashing rebellions within the colonies. Sure, they had measures in place for when a criminal attempted to take over a colony, but they had neither the time nor funds to prepare for the rarest of rare possibilities of dealing with a criminal trying to take over a planet, le
t alone an entire system. Anna East had far more ambition than he’d given her credit for.

  He stepped closer to the clear door. “You have Free Station. So what? You really think that the Hiraeth colonies, let alone the mining colonies, will follow you? They depend on monetary support from the Consortium, which will disappear if they think a warlord has taken over the system.”

  She glared. “I’m not a warlord.” Her features smoothed. “The Ross colonies will learn to depend on one another.”

  He tutted. “There are enough Jaders who’ve immigrated to Hiraeth. If they don’t already know, it won’t take long for word to travel regarding how your leadership of Jade-8 has led to a near-total economic collapse of a thriving colony. I doubt they’ll be too keen on having a—what will you call yourself—a queen, an empress? I guarantee the one thing they’ll see you as, is a dictator.”

  She held up a finely manicured finger. “Ah, you are wrong. I will not rule over the Ross system. I plan to build a cabinet of representatives. Every colony will have a voice.”

  Chief grunted. “As long as you always have the final say.”

  She lifted her chin. “You are one of the Peacekeepers I mentioned earlier—the ones who are too inflexible to bend to a new way of doing things. It’s too bad you won’t be around to see how the Ross system thrives on its own since you’ll go down with Free Station.” Her smile grew, and she nodded toward the computer screens behind him. “I’ll be back with questions for you to answer. Until then, I’ll give you a front-row seat to my emancipation of Ross.”

  She turned away from him and motioned to two of her guards, who remained behind as she strode away with the rest of her armed entourage.

  “She’s crazy,” the marshal said.

  “Absolutely,” Chief said. “Unfortunately, she also has vision and ambition. Those three attributes make for a dangerous adversary.”

  Chapter Nine

  The flash blinded Throttle. She blinked to clear her vision as she swung her pistol toward their attacker.

  “Whoa there, friend. Don’t shoot. It’s me, Punch.”

  Their attacker slowly slid back the hood to reveal a familiar visage that was now sporting a black eye and a cut lip. A sheen of sweat glistened on his pale face. She lowered her weapon but didn’t holster it. “Punch? What the hell were you thinking, sneaking up on us? You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Especially all covered up like that. You look like a homeless bum. If I didn’t shoot you, I probably would’ve thrown a credit at you.”

  “Sorry about that, but if you’d seen me, they’d have seen me. They think I’m dead, and I’d like to keep it that way,” Punch said through gritted teeth.

  “What are you talking about?” she countered.

  “Your Atlas chips,” Punch said as though that explained everything, and then collapsed.

  Throttle rushed over to find him unconscious. She grabbed the device he’d been holding and held it up for Finn to see. “An EMP.”

  “Why?” Finn asked, not lowering his weapon.

  “Let’s ask him when he wakes up.” She tapped her wrist-comm before she realized that it would be dead, along with her Atlas chip and ELT. “Here. Grab one of his shoulders. Let’s get him loaded on the ATV.”

  They placed him across the back seat and hurriedly climbed into their seats. She revved up the engine and tore down a street.

  As they raced through New Canaan, people yelled and jumped out of their way.

  Finn grunted when they hit a curb.

  “Sorry,” she muttered and kept speeding.

  “Don’t worry about it. The sharp pains are mostly gone. Just dull muscle aches now.”

  “Good. Because the way our day is going, I’m going to need you in top form.”

  She drove several blocks to a building with a red cross painted across the front. She parked right outside the front door, and the pair carried Punch inside.

  An older man in a tan lab coat sat at a desk in the back of the waiting room. He looked up and asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Don’t know,” Throttle answered.

  He jumped up, grabbed a wheeled stretcher that had been parked against the wall, and pushed it over. “Here. Get him on this.”

  “Aubree!” Throttle shouted as soon as she’d helped place Punch onto the stretcher.

  A woman stepped out of a room, and Throttle felt immediate relief.

  Aubree wore a similar tan coat along with a stethoscope around her neck. She gave a passing glance at Throttle before noticing the patient and jogged to the stretcher. She’d only checked his pupils before she grabbed the stretcher. “Room two, Roderick,” she said curtly as the pair hurriedly wheeled Punch down the hallway. Throttle and Finn followed them into a surgical room.

  The two medical professionals immediately began removing Punch’s holsters and layers of clothing. As his shirt was cut away, Throttle began to see the extent of Punch’s injuries. Dark bruises wrapped his neck as though he’d been hanged. His torso had more purple and blue skin than healthy skin.

  “What happened?” Aubree asked without looking up.

  Throttle answered, “I don’t know. He passed out right after he came up to us. My guess is he ran into something nasty on his way to Hiraeth.” Then she added, “He’s a marshal, and the last I knew, he was near Jade-8.”

  Aubree nodded as she cut away Punch’s shirt. She spoke as she continued working. “Roderick, power up the scanner. I see multiple contusions and possibly internal bleeding. Someone really did a number on this guy.”

  She then turned to face Throttle. “This could take some time. If you two want to wait up front—”

  “We’ll stay here for now,” Throttle interrupted. She glanced at Finn, who was already walking over to the doorway to stand guard.

  Throttle watched as Aubree situated the large overhead scanner over Punch’s prone form.

  Aubree’s sea of tight black curls now reached her shoulders, reminding Throttle how long it’d been since she’d seen her friend. Aubree had been the only member of the Black Sheep to stay behind rather than to join the Peacekeepers. Watching the medic work, Throttle knew Aubree had made the right choice. Canaan needed her.

  The medic read the results from the scanner as it displayed them. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with…a moderate concussion, a dislocated right shoulder, uh-oh, we’ve got a burst appendix, a perforated kidney, three broken fingers on the left hand, and a fractured tibia.” She blew out a breath. “Prep for surgery. We have to get that appendix out of there before it kills him, and that kidney’s not helping things.”

  Roderick rushed over to a cabinet and started rummaging through drawers.

  Aubree turned back to Throttle. “Surgery will take at least an hour, and it could take another couple of hours before he’s conscious.”

  “Okay. I’ll stop back to check on him.” She looked at Finn. “I know your ribs hurt more than you’re letting on, so why don’t you stay here to keep an eye on Punch.”

  Finn nodded. “I’ll make sure that whoever did this to Punch doesn’t show up to try to finish what they started.”

  Aubree’s eyes grew wide. “You think they’re coming?”

  “I doubt it, but it’s better to play it safe.” Throttle paused before leaving and gave the medic a smile. “It’s good to see you, Aubree. I just wish the circumstances were better.”

  The medic chortled. “If we waited for good circumstances, we’d never see each other.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” Throttle sighed. “I’d better go see Mutt. I’ll be back soon.”

  Aubree smirked. “Folks call him Baron Stolypin now.”

  She shrugged. He’d always be Mutt to her.

  As she left the emergency room, she stopped by Finn in the doorway.

  “I’ll also make sure he stays here,” Finn said quietly.

  Throttle nodded. “I have a feeling he knows what’s going on up on Free Station.”

  She headed back to city hall and up t
wo flights of stairs to a foyer where an assistant sat behind a desk. At the far end of the space was a closed door guarded by a beast of a man. Throttle noticed that he still wore the homemade battle-axe. She grinned. “You’re looking good, Axe.”

  The bodyguard grunted and gave the smallest nod before smiling. “Glad to see being a Peacekeeper didn’t make you too snobby to come back.”

  Her grin widened. “Not just any Peacekeeper. I’m a bona fide marshal now.”

  His brows lifted before his eyes narrowed. “It could come in handy to have someone in law on our side. Assuming you’re on our side.”

  She gave him a crooked grin but didn’t nod. She glanced back at the assistant, whom she didn’t recognize. The woman was a pretty young thing with the eyes of a person who’d seen hell. A hairline scar ran down her neck. She was likely a gutter rat from Jade-8 and exactly whom Throttle expected Mutt to hire for his personal staff.

  “Marshal Reyne here to see Baron Stolypin,” Throttle said, even though she suspected the assistant already knew who Throttle was.

  “The baron will see you now,” the assistant said without making a call.

  Throttle nodded and headed to the door that Axe opened for her. As she entered, she saw Mutt stepping around his desk and walking over to meet her halfway. She was still getting used to him being clean-shaven and not looking like a homeless bum. He’d cleaned up nicely, though he still wore clothes that served function over form.

  “I see you found some new legs,” he said, coming to a stop.

  She glanced briefly at her blades. “Turns out the Galactic Peacekeepers have pretty decent health insurance.”

  His brow rose. “From what I’ve been hearing, the Peacekeepers may need a lot more than health insurance right now.”

  She instantly sobered. “That’s why I wanted to see you.”

  “I’m not sure I can be of much help. I’m busy running Canaan. I don’t have much time for gossip,” he said, though he motioned to a couple of chairs off to the side.