by Rachel Aukes
Sylvian sighed. “Punch took off when I was still on board. He said it was a last-minute change in plans.”
Punch appreciated the specialist’s honesty. He didn’t blame her for blaming him for her current situation. He thought then he should speak. “Throttle, things moved a little fast back there, and I didn’t have time to check in.”
“Oh, and exactly what changed in the original plan that forced you to rabbit and leave me and the rest of my crew in harm’s way?” Throttle asked.
“Sorry about that,” he said and meant it, even though he had no doubt that Throttle had already figured out the truth: that he’d planned to “borrow” Sylvian all along. He hadn’t told Throttle his plan because he knew she would never have loaned one of her crew to someone she barely knew, especially if she knew that he intended to take Sylvian into the middle of a war zone.
“Syl, tell me you’re not being coerced or threatened.” A man’s voice came through, which Punch suspected was her husband.
“Punch has been decent enough, honey,” Sylvian answered, then shot a glare in Punch’s direction. “But he still hasn’t filled me in on why he needs me on his ship.”
“It’s nothing too dangerous,” Punch said. “It’s just that the simple thing of disabling Atlas on my ship, Sylvian could do the same on Free Station.”
“Wait. You’re taking Sylvian to Free Station with you?” Throttle asked in a rush.
“Like hell you—” Finn began.
Punch tapped one of the most useful commands he’d programmed in his ship’s systems. Static filled the speakers. “Sorry. You’re cutting out. Will check in later.” He disconnected the call.
Sylvian stared at him, slack-jawed. “Do you really think anyone would be dumb enough to buy that static thing you just did?” She flung out her hands. “It doesn’t even make sense. If there’s a bad connection, there’s silence, not static.”
“You’d be surprised how often it works,” he said.
“How are you even still alive?” She blew out a breath. You know, it doesn’t matter. Just tell me, exactly what do you have in mind for me to do on Free Station?”
He leaned back. “It’s easy. Whoever controls Atlas controls Free Station. You and I are going to waltz on to Free Station and to the Atlas server room, where you’ll do whatever it is that you specialists do and disinfect Atlas of whatever it is that has allowed Anna East to get her slimy tentacles into it. Then all the Peacekeepers will have their toys back, and we can give East and her Jaders the ass whooping they deserve.”
“There’s nothing about that plan that sounds easy,” she said.
He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “It doesn’t seem so complicated in my head.”
Her brows rose. “What happened with the original plan of you sneaking on to Free Station and blowing up Atlas?”
He shook his head. “It never would’ve worked. Atlas has backups upon backups, which it updates every few seconds.”
She eyed him for a long moment. “You lied to Throttle from the beginning. You were always planning to take me with you.”
“Not completely. I needed to see you disable Atlas on my ship before I knew you could hack it.”
“And if I couldn’t have hacked it?”
“Then you would’ve gone back to your ship, and I would’ve had to pay a lot of credits that I don’t want to pay to a freelance tech to do the same thing. This is a win-win plan.”
She guffawed. “How so?”
“I don’t have to spend time and money bringing a freelance on board, and you get to be a hero, saving Free Station.”
Her expression darkened. “Heroes don’t live long enough to hear themselves be called that.”
“Well, then I suppose we’ll have to make sure you’re just a sort of hero who lives to talk about it.” He paused. “I need to know. Can you pull this off?”
She watched him for a moment. “I think so.”
“I need more than an ‘I think so’ before we dive into hell.”
She scowled. “Well, there’re too many unknowns here. I don’t know what they used to make Atlas their zombie. If it’s hardware, then we’ll have to disable that first. If it’s software, it depends on the program they’ve used. Most of the basic stuff can be overwritten with a few commands, but I’d need programs of my own to take on anything robust.”
“Can you access those from here?” he asked.
“Sure. That’s if you don’t cut the comms on me again. I’m good at software, but I’m a mediocre hacker. This may be way above my capability.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have a backup plan.”
“And what’s that?” she asked.
“I’ll blow up Atlas. All of it. The servers. The backups. Everything.”
“Will that work?”
He eyed her. “Sure, but it’ll also blow Free Station all to hell.”
“Oh.” She paused for a length. “Let’s hope that I can scrape off whatever programs East has stuck on Atlas.”
“I think that’s an excellent plan,” he said.
She sat and stared at the view panel that spanned the front wall of the bridge. After a lengthy silence, she frowned and turned back to Punch. “Your plan assumes that we can get on to Free Station without being noticed, but it’ll be swarming with Jader pirates.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “That’s why we went back for the High Spirit.”
“I don’t understand. Unless your ship has both physical and electronic stealth capabilities—”
“It doesn’t, though that’d be great to have.” He nodded to her workstation. “Take a look at the system labeled Bones.”
Her frown deepened before she shrugged and focused her attention on her panel. After several moments, she turned to Punch. “Is this for real?”
“It is.” He shot her a crooked grin. “Every administrative-level code for every dock, door, and system.”
“Now I understand why you needed the High Spirit to get us onto Free Station. Does Throttle know you have a skeleton key?”
“Yes. Otherwise, she wouldn’t take me to my ship. I’ll need you to make a copy to package and send to the Javelin so they can come in behind us and rescue Chief.”
“Why do you even have something like this?”
He shrugged. “It’s part of my rainy-day fund.”
She stared, confused.
He clarified. “I like to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”
She nodded. “The Jaders taking Free Station is definitely a worst-case scenario sort of thing.”
“Nah. Not even close.”
She thought for a moment, as though wanting to speak, but then turned back to her work. After a few minutes, she spoke. “Hold on. You have a QuSR? I thought they were only used in Sol.” That she was familiar with the acronym and pronounced it correctly—as Quasar—meant she’d clearly come across the rare technology in her short time in the Ross system.
“It’s used here and there. Not hard to get a hold of as long as you have a quantum dish.”
She continued, “I’ve never used QuSR before. I heard it’s as advanced as you can get in communications. Instantaneous delivery across systems. No delays. Is that true?”
“It’s that fast, but the downside is that it can only send data packets, so you wouldn’t be able to make a smoochie video with your hubby using QuSR.” His brow lifted. “Having fun snooping through all my secrets?”
“I’m not snooping,” she said in a rush, then added, “Your QuSR inbox was flashing. It caught my attention. That’s all.” In a small voice, she added, “I’m not a snoop, and I don’t make smoochie videos.”
He ignored her as he swiped screens to access his QuSR inbox to see a data packet that had been sent fifteen hours earlier. He used QuSR so little, and never for legal jobs, that he hadn’t thought to check it. He opened the packet and ran a text translator. Soon, random data marks morphed into letters on his screen:
PD –
EAST TOOK F
S. CONTROLS ATLAS. PETE ANTONOV TRAITOR. ALL GP LOCKED IN ROOMS. CASUALTIES. EAST PLANNING TO BLOW FS. WILL RETAKE FS. BRING SUPPORT ASAP.
– CR
Relief washed over Punch. He waved the specialist over. “Syl, take a look at this.”
“Don’t call me that. Only Finn is allowed to call me that.”
“Sorry. Ms. Sylvian Whatever Your Last Name Is, get over here and take a look at this.”
“It’s Salazar-Martin if you really want to know. Salazar’s my last name and Martin is Finn’s last name,” she said as she walked over. “And can’t you just send whatever’s on your screen to mine?”
“I could, but I’m lazy,” he said.
He glanced at her while she read the message over his shoulder.
“Did your hubby give you that necklace?” he asked.
She looked down at the metal heart-shaped pendant she’d been rubbing and abruptly released it before continuing to read. “Who’s CR?”
“Chief Roux. Looks like we’ve got ourselves an inside man,” Punch said before turning around to face Sylvian. “Here’s what I need you to do.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your crew.”
“Right now you are.”
She scowled. “No. We’re partners.”
“Call it what you want.” While her scowl remained, she no longer argued, so he continued, “Send the Bones file and Chief’s message to Throttle through a secure channel. Tell her to call me on the same channel once she’s read the contents.”
“Us.”
“What?” he asked.
“I’ll tell her to call us on the secure channel.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Is that all?” she asked, and he couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or sarcastic, so he assumed the former.
“No. I want you to figure out a way to contact the Peacekeepers in this system without using Atlas.”
She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“You’re smart. You’ll find a way.”
She scowled. “And what do you want me to do if I can find them?”
“I’ll have you send them a message through a secure channel. We’ll see about getting ourselves a little extra help on Free Station.”
“How do you know whom we can trust?”
“I always assume I can’t trust anyone,” he answered.
She sighed. “Okay. And what will you be doing while I’m doing all this?”
“I’ll be asleep. I’m sore as hell and tired as shit.” He did plan to sleep, but he also planned to monitor Sylvian’s activities. He’d learned long ago to never trust someone who didn’t trust him. It was just smart business.
Her scowl had returned. “You’re so helpful.”
He narrowed an eye. “Trust me, you want me on the top of my game when we get to Free Station. I’ll be the one to keep the Jaders off your back.”
She gulped.
“Now get to work. I’ll have our plan figured out by then, and we can work out the details on the call with your crew.”
“You’re thinking of changing the current plan?”
“No. Not really. Just taking advantage of the resources we have at our disposal to improve our odds.”
She cocked her head. “And what kind of odds do you give us?”
“You want the odds before or after I saw Chief’s message?”
Her gaze narrowed. “After.”
“Survivable. Maybe.”
Chapter Nineteen
Throttle wanted to kick Punch’s ass into the next star system. He’d been withholding information from her all along, including the plan to kidnap one of her crew members. She even wondered if he had the skeleton key with him all along and told her about his ship being crucial to getting onto Free Station as a ruse simply to get Sylvian on his ship so they could go after Atlas.
While she knew whoever controlled Atlas had the advantage in a fight, Punch seemed pushy that he would be the one to bring it back online. He had an ulterior motive; of that, she had no doubt. But his plan was solid and smart, so she couldn’t screw him over for a hunch—especially when a change in the plan could place Sylvian in greater danger.
“Is everything okay, Throttle? You seem bothered,” Rusty said.
“That’s an understatement. I’m pissed off that Punch coerced Sylvian to go with him. He’s putting her in danger. Plus, worrying about her is going to screw with Finn’s focus when we reach Free Station.”
“He’s currently attempting to beat up a punching bag, though it doesn’t look like it’s helping to improve his mood.”
“I think imagining he’s pummeling Punch Durand brings nowhere near the same level of satisfaction as actually hitting the marshal. Hopefully, he’ll get his shot.” Throttle wouldn’t mind taking a swing at the marshal herself but would comfort herself in knowing Finn would see the small sense of retribution done—and he threw a better punch. “At least we should get plenty of opportunity for some real-life pummeling when we find ourselves some pirates on Free Station. Speaking of which, I need to make a call.”
She brushed aside the screen containing the data she’d received from Sylvian aboard Punch’s ship and pulled up a communications screen. She reached out to the only person she knew had the resources to be of help.
It took him over a minute to answer.
Baron Stolypin’s face appeared on her screen. “I’ve been wondering when I’d get a call from you. Good to see East’s pirates haven’t gotten to you yet.”
“I’m going to Free Station. I need your help to take it back from the pirates,” Throttle said without any sort of introduction.
Mutt sighed. “I told you before, this isn’t my fight.”
“Anna East and her scum made life hell for you and the other gutter rats stuck on Jade-8. Now’s your chance to stop them from doing to that to anyone else,” she said.
“I’d love to see her gone and Jade-8 back to an only slightly disreputable colony, but I’m not willing to sacrifice any of my people for it. They’re not gutter rats any longer; they’re Canaanites now, and they—like me—are looking to the future, not the past.” His gaze narrowed. “Besides, why would I help the Peacekeepers? They never lifted a finger to help me and mine on Jade-8.”
Her brows lifted. “I wouldn’t have taken you for someone to hold a grudge.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I can hold a grudge, all right. And I’m not alone. Most of my people would rather this system not have any Peacekeepers. And the Trappists who settled in Canaan have never benefitted from them, yet we’re all taxed for their ‘service.’ So you’ll have a tough go of it if you’re trying to recruit soldiers from Canaan to help the Peacekeepers.”
“Fine. Then come for the good people left on Jade-8. There are still gutter rats stuck in the colony, and they’re suffering under East. Or have you forgotten about them?”
“I haven’t forgotten about them,” he said darkly. “While East and her pirates are a cancer to this system, the truth is, if she disappears, there will be some other nasty piece of work waiting in line to step into her high-heeled shoes tomorrow. And who knows? Her replacement could prove to be even more psychotic than East herself. Are you familiar with the phrase ‘Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t’?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“Then you know things could always get worse.” Mutt exhaled. “Listen, for the first time in a very long time, my people have a home and a semblance of hope. I’m not going to send away the militia to help a cause that will result in no benefit whatsoever to us.” He paused. “But if you offered payment, say a thousand credits for each volunteer, I could at least pass around the word.”
Throttle balked. “A thousand credits? You know I spent everything I had to establish Canaan.”
He motioned. “Then we have nothing to negotiate.”
“Wait,” she said. “I know the Peacekeepers keep a general fund for things like this—you know, blackmail. I’ll talk to C
hief Roux, and I’ll get the credits.”
He held up a hand. “I know how those things go. What happens is you get what you want, and then the funds never show up. Sorry, Throttle. No credits up front, no volunteers. If you don’t show up with credits, I wish you the best, and I hope you make it. I’ve always considered you a friend.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re a lousy friend.” Throttle disconnected the call and leaned back in her seat.
“That could’ve gone better,” Rusty said.
“You’ve mastered the art of understatement, Rusty,” Throttle said.
“Thank you, I think.”
She tapped the ship’s intercom. “Eddy, I need you on the bridge.”
When there was no response, she went to speak again, but Rusty spoke first. “He’s walking this way now. He was in the galley, and it looks like he’s still chewing that odd meal he created.”
“Don’t tell me. Seaweed wrap?”
“See for yourself,” Rusty answered.
Throttle turned as Eddy entered the bridge. He finished chewing and swallowed. “What do you need?”
Throttle eyed him. “You have green stuff in your teeth.”
Eddy ran his tongue over his teeth, though it did no good. “That makes sense since I just made my Seaweed Special. I could make you one if you want. You know, I think I perfected the recipe. Red pepper flakes make all the difference.”
“Not right now,” she said. “I need your help with a program Sylvian sent us from Punch’s ship. Supposedly, it’s a skeleton key for Free Station so we can get there without Atlas detecting us.”
“If anyone’s watching the outer video feeds, they’ll still see us,” Eddy said.
Throttle nodded. “I know. Punch seems to think they only have docking cameras, so if we come up vertically, we can miss the cameras.”
“Vertically while in orbit?” He shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Anyway, I need you to upload some data files into the Javelin and enable them as screen options with our comm system. Can you do that?”
Eddy scowled. “I’m a hardware specialist. Sylvian’s the software specialist. They are two completely different skill sets.”
