Ghost Jumper (Interstellar Getaway Pilot Book 2), page 6
“You’re up late, Bob,” I said as my hand dropped to my waist.
“I’m Max, you piece of grik,” he snarled. “Bob didn’t make it.”
Mystery solved.
He aimed his pistol at me. “Maybe if we got him to the medtek faster… If you didn’t dick us around with your bioscan, he’d still be alive!”
I kept my movements slow and my voice calm. “Max, you saw him. No one walks away from a bolter burn like that. Not without a hospital or—”
“Shut your mouth! I don’t give a flarg what Brubaker says. You’re dead, asshole. This is for Bob!”
I went for my gun, but I already knew it was too late. He had me dead in his sights. Before my barrel could clear the holster, he pulled the trigger.
And nothing happened.
His gun was a cheap slugger, a knockoff of a popular Dranth model. Sluggers could punch holes in ships, and explosive decompression could really ruin your day. So most models had a chip that deactivated the firing mechanism while onboard. Unless you yanked the chip.
Poor Max hadn’t yanked his chip.
I dipped my shoulder and drew my pistol in one fluid motion. I was fast, but the neurons in Max’s brain fired a little faster. He charged forward, slamming into me before I could get a shot off. The impact knocked my gun arm wide and drove me back into the wall. I coughed as he sent a knee into my solar plexus. The blow knocked the wind from my lungs. My fingers spasmed, and my pistol clattered to the deck.
My vision went dim as I struggled to breathe. But I could still see the gleam of the scalpel blade rushing toward me. I threw up my arm to block the attack and swung my head forward.
The top of my skull slammed into Max’s nose. I heard the crack of snapping cartilage, and blood sprayed across the deck. He staggered back, cradling his broken nose with one hand and swinging the scalpel with the other. The tiny glowing blade tore through the sleeve of my leather jacket. I winced as pain shot through my arm.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed Max by the collar and swung him around, slamming him back against the other side of the corridor. With one hand, I pinned his weapon arm against the wall.
“You think you can kill me on my own ship?” I growled. I was really pissed now. I expected betrayal. It came with the job. But this was just sloppy. I slammed my forehead into his nose again. He howled in pain and dropped the weapon. The energy blade blinked out as soon as his fingers left the controls.
The high-pitched whine of a bolter screamed through the corridor behind me. The glowing beam struck my shoulder. Just a graze, but the pain made the scalpel wound feel like a paper cut. I spun around, stumbling back in shock.
Brubaker.
He stood in the corridor, pistol drawn, smoking the cigarette clamped between his lips. Must have slid down the ladder when he heard the fight.
“I told you we were gonna throw down, Jumper,” he snarled. “Looks like Bobbie here beat me to it.”
“I’m Max, dammit,” my opponent whined.
Brubaker ignored him and made a wiggling gesture with the gun. I raised my hands again. It was starting to become a habit lately. I glanced at the deck. My Cerberus was less than a meter away. Might as well have been light-years.
“You know, this is a real shame,” he said, stepping closer and shaking his head. “I know talent when I see it. You fly the hell out of this old junker, that’s for sure. Ran circles around those cops and whoever those other ships were.”
“Somehow, I feel there’s a ‘but’ coming,” I said, keeping my hands in the air.
Brubaker made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Yeah. Whoever those assholes in the black ships were, they’re gonna be on your tail. And if they find you, that could lead them to me. So now, I’m thinking maybe this arrangement just isn’t gonna work out.”
“No hard feelings,” I replied. “I don’t play well with others. Personality defect.”
“You’re defective, all right,” Max said, wiping blood from his face as he staggered away from the wall. “You think your two-bit ass is worth a hundred thousand?” He laughed. “Why the hell should we split our take with you? We don’t need you anymore.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes on Brubaker. Max obviously didn’t know what was coming, but I did. Like I said, betrayal came with the job. It was like an infection. Once it took hold, it always spread.
“You know, that’s a good question,” Brubaker said. He aimed the gun at Max and pulled the trigger. The energy beam struck him square in the back. The smell of burning flesh filled the corridor. Max looked genuinely surprised. Not too bright, poor guy.
Then again, it was hard to feel sorry for someone who had been trying to slit my throat a few seconds earlier.
He collapsed to the deck, smoke wafting from the charred hole in his jacket.
“He’s wrong, you know.” I took a step back, moving closer to my pistol. “You still need me. Baxter won’t fly the ship for you. And without his guidance systems, the Ghost Drive will scatter your atoms halfway across the galaxy.”
Brubaker matched my movement, stepping closer. But not close enough for me to jump him. I remembered his infantry tattoo. He had years of combat experience. I was no slouch in a tussle, but I had read this guy’s file. He had survived fifty drops into the worst shit imaginable. If it came to a fight, I didn’t love my chances.
He smiled. “We'll see. Xiri may not be much to look at, but she’s a hell of a tech.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. I think she’s kind of cute.”
Brubaker chuckled. “Ain’t that sweet. Point is, she’s reprograming that copilot of yours as we speak. He’ll play nice once she’s done.” He gave the trigger a half pull, charging up the projector coil to maximum power. “So I think this concludes our business. Nothing personal, Jumper.”
I looked him in the eye. “You sure about that?”
A low snarl echoed behind us. Brubaker spun around just in time to see Baxter flying toward him. Despite his small size, he packed a punch. The synth dog's body plates and polymer-coil muscle bundles made him heavier than he looked.
The snarling synth rammed Brubaker square in the chest, knocking him to the deck. He threw up an arm, blocking Baxter’s snapping jaws and metal teeth. I had never understood why those alien designers thought a robotic canine copilot needed teeth. But right now, I wasn’t complaining.
I dove for the ground, wrapping my fingers around the butt of my pistol. But whatever drug Brubaker had coursing through his veins, it clearly upped his strength and reaction time. I heard his pistol fire, and Baxter yelped. He tossed my robot dog through the air. One of Baxter's legs sparked and went limp. He hit the wall and slumped to the deck as I staggered to my feet.
But Brubaker was still faster, leaping up like some kind of wind-up toy. Even as I aimed my gun, I knew I was too late. I heard the scream of a pistol again, just before I could pull my trigger.
But Brubaker didn’t fire. His eyes gaped wide, and they were that pale ice-blue color again. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Then he fell to his knees, smoke rising from his back.
Xiri stood behind him at the end of the hall. She was holding a tiny pistol in a two-handed grip.
As Brubaker slumped to the ground, I gave Xiri a surprised look.
She blew a pink bubble then popped it with her tongue. "I told you he wasn't my boss."
I took a deep breath and stood over him. With the toe of my boot, I rolled him onto his back. His eyes were blinking rapidly, and he was still breathing. The energy blast hadn’t been strong enough to kill him, but the burn trauma had induced neural shock. He struggled to lift his gun, but his arm was shaking so badly he could barely hold the thing. I stepped on his wrist, pinning the gun to the deck.
I aimed my pistol at his head. “Nothing personal. But nobody shoots my dog.”
I fired. He stopped moving.
Baxter limped over to me. His right front leg was damaged, and his eyes looked dimmer than usual.
I turned to Xiri. “Is it true? Are you a tech?”
She slid the gun into her coveralls and knelt in front of Baxter. Cradling his broken leg, she gave his head a friendly pat. He made a whining sound and nuzzled her face. She laughed.
“Yeah, it’s true. I worked the space docks at Zeta Argosa after I left home. Patched up old Scarab-class freighters before they made Network runs.”
I scooped up Baxter in my arms, grunting as I lifted him. “Come on. I’ll get you some tools. And a drink.”
“A drink?”
“Yeah. It’s beer o’clock somewhere in the galaxy.”
She tilted her head. “You say the strangest things. What does that even mean?”
I shrugged. “No idea. Saw it in an old holovid. Come on.”
She followed me as I carried Baxter to the engine room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Twenty minutes later, Baxter was good as new. He pranced around the engine room, his eyes glowing brighter than I’d ever seen them. Xiri laughed as he jumped up and put his paws on her lap. We were drinking synthetic whiskey from empty metal ration cans, and I thought it actually put some color into her gray cheeks.
“Baxter, don’t you have to get back to the bridge?” I asked, wincing as I took a sip of the amber liquid in my cup. It had a strange chemical aftertaste, and the engine room's work lights cast a rainbow reflection across its surface like sunlight hitting an oil slick.
Baxter gave me an annoyed grunt then trotted out of the room, looking immensely pleased with himself.
Xiri took a sip of her whiskey and packed up her tool kit. The engine room was a wedge-shaped chamber on the lower deck. Fuel lines and power relays snaked along the wall, and glowing diagnostic panels cast a dim orange glow. At the narrow end of the wedge, a massive metal cylinder jutted from the wall, covered with tangled hoses, blinking lights, and faded warning stickers. Its low hum filled the engine room.
She walked over and peered through a grease-streaked viewing portal at the end of the cylinder, watching the spinning rings inside.
“So that’s it?” she asked. “The Ghost Drive?”
“That’s it.” I took another sip of whiskey. “Look, I appreciate your help with Baxter. But—”
“I also saved your life,” she said, not taking her eyes off the hypnotic spinning rings in the drive chamber.
I nodded. “Yeah, that too. You told me Brubaker wasn’t your boss, right?”
“He wasn’t. The person who hired me hired Brubaker as well. He was the muscle, I was the tech. His job was to get us inside. Then I shut down the defense grid. Or I tried to, anyway."
“Okay. So who are you working for, then?”
She turned around and sighed. “Honestly… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
She sat on a plastic crate across from me. I had to admit I found it hard to look away from those doe-like eyes of hers. They drew me in, but they were almost impossible to read.
“I was hacking a manifest schedule back on Zeta. Trying to divert more food shipments to my village. I screwed up, made a mistake. I triggered an alarm in the Trans-Corp data-web, but someone else had spiked the same system. They stopped it from going off.”
“Someone? Who?”
She shook her head and took another sip of her drink. “I don’t know. But they back-tracked my data link. They kept contacting me, sending me holovids of that coffin back there. Then data files on the owner, his security system, stuff like that. Finally, they offered me this gig. I figured, why not? Quoted them a price I thought was crazy, figuring it was a joke. But the next day, the money appeared on my credit chip. An hour later, Brubaker knocked on my door.”
“Spooky." I narrowed my eyes, trying to decide if I believed her. It was a pretty crazy story. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she’d make it up. Especially after she’d iced Brubaker in the corridor. “If that’s true, then what’s your next move? Who’s waiting for you at Tulas?”
She gave me a nervous shrug. “I was told my contact would find me once I got there.”
“So why did you kill Brubaker?”
“He was going to kill you,” she replied. As if that explained anything.
I tilted my head and stared at her. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
She smiled. “Like I said, I don’t know who hired me. Or what’s waiting for me on Tulas. I figured you and I… Maybe we could be partners? I trust you a hell of a lot more than I trusted that psycho.” She batted her eyelashes. “After all, you did say I was cute.”
I shook my head and got up. “You’re not that cute, honey.”
She gave me an angry look. At least, I thought it was angry. Hard to tell with those eyes of hers. But I ignored her scowl and kept talking. “Look, here’s the deal. That thing you brought on board might be connected to the Trans-Corp Network gates."
Her eyes opened wider. No hiding her surprise there. "The gates? But how?"
"The symbols on its surface match some markings on the gates. On top of that, I’m pretty sure those black ships that chased us were Syndicate."
"Pretty sure?"
“I haven’t survived this long by betting against my instincts. There’s not a score in the galaxy that’s worth crossing both Trans-Corp and the Syndicate over. You want my advice? We should space that coffin right now and change course. Get as far away from this sector as possible.”
She glared up at me. “I can’t do that, Trev. I need this money. My family needs it. You know what it's like. How the Dranth treat humans, Grays, everyone else. We’re nothing to them. This is my shot to crawl out of that pit. I won't throw it away just because you got nervous."
I knew there was no point in arguing. You work in this business long enough, you get to know when someone has that look in their eyes, even eyes like hers. As far as she was concerned, this was her big score, the one that could really change things for her. Once someone got that look, there was no use trying to stop them. Might as well try to fight gravity.
“Okay, fine.” I sighed. “Can you cover the rest of my fee?”
She nodded, and all warmth left her face. She looked me in the eye. I looked away. "Don't worry. You'll get paid," she said.
I paced back and forth, thinking. “Fine. A deal’s a deal. I’ll take you to Tulas. As soon as you and that coffin are off this ship, I’m gone. And you’d better pray the Syndicate doesn’t find me. Because there’s no way in hell I’m spending the next hundred years in a pain amplifier just to cover your ass.”
“You wouldn’t live for a hundred years,” she snapped.
“You’d be surprised how long they can keep you alive when they want to.”
She slammed her cup down on the crate and stood up. “Something about those black ships has you spooked, and it's not just the Syndicate... there's something you're not telling me.”
I drank my whiskey and said nothing.
“I saw the picture on your console,” she continued. “You obviously don’t have any friends or family. So who is she?”
“She’s got nothing to do with this. She’s… she’s in the past.”
Xiri bit her lip for a second. “Maybe part of you is trapped in the past as well.”
She saw a lot with those big, dark eyes. More than I thought.
“Does this ship have a Q-Wave system?” she asked before I could say anything.
I shook my head. “Nope. No comms off-ship until we drop back to sublight speeds.”
“Fine. I’ll get you the rest of your fee when we land.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I finished my whiskey, wincing as the bitter final dregs slipped down my throat. The stuff tasted god-awful, but I was already craving another shot.
Xiri’s footsteps echoed through the engine room. The door closed behind her, and I was alone. Just me and the comforting purr of the Shadow Hawk's power relays.
Baxter growled in my ear, but I ignored him. I closed my eyes and listened to the humming, creaking, and clicking. The sounds were familiar, comforting. The Shadow Hawk was a well-oiled machine. A battered, outdated, clunky machine, sure. But she got me where I needed to go.
She was all I had left.
CHAPTER NINE
Tulas.
A barren, windswept rock in the outer planets. Far from the core worlds of the Star League, like most outer planets, Tulas was a haven for refugees, dissidents, and criminals. In other words, people like me.
But even I didn’t like to spend much time here. The place was so bleak and desolate it was almost beautiful. Thick swirling clouds hid a parched, cracked surface of white limestone canyons flanked by glittering ivory spires and arches. All carved out over the eons by harsh, freezing winds. There was no water on the surface, but vast seas of black volcanic ash stretched off into the distance.
But for all its alien beauty, the atmosphere wasn’t breathable by humans or most other life-forms. A toxic miasma of nitrogen and methane covered the stark white surface. I’d heard that ancient bacteria still survived in the nooks and crannies between the rocks. Anything bigger than that had died out and crumbled to dust long ago.
Even though the surface was uninhabitable, the planet was home to a vast subterranean network of colonies linked by a sprawling system of tunnels and underground transit tubes. Multiple species called this hostile chunk of rock home. Some were refugees from planets destroyed in the war. Others just couldn’t afford to live anywhere else.
Of course, there was a fair number of humans here. Even some down-on-their-luck Dranth prowled the tunnels, hoping for a score, desperate to claw their way back into polite society. Which meant the Syndicate had a presence here as well.
Before we landed, I spaced the bodies from the sick bay into orbit around the barren ice ball. All three of them... Couldn't say I was too broken up about it, but Xiri actually seemed a little sad. According to her, Bob had been the nicest of the bunch. Guess I’d have to take her word on that.
On her way out the door, Xiri tapped her credit chip against mine. I watched as the glowing holographic numbers ticked up. By the time they reached the total she owed me, she was already down the ramp, pulling the hover sled alongside her. Baxter sat next to me, watching her leave. He craned his head up and gave me that pleading look of his: ears low, eyes wide, pulsing with blue light.
