Starbourne, page 24
Hoss was never the strongest guy in the room, or the fastest. He wasn’t the smartest, or the wittiest. He wasn’t born into credits, or high social standings. And from what he was told; he wasn’t even very likable. In fact, people frequently told him the opposite.
Despite all the setbacks, Hoss had one thing that set him apart from others: his unwavering ambition. Most others in his position would have given up and rolled over. Not Hoss. Given nothing in life, he had done a damn good job to get where he was now. And he was proud of it.
He had close friends he could rely on. He owned his own business and real estate. He had a steady source of income through Cyrus and the bondsmen. He was succeeding in achieving his goals. But not fast enough. Hoss wanted more, and he wanted it now.
Hoss blinked for the first time in what felt like an hour. His eyes burning from the sensation after staying open for so long. Glancing down to the seat beside him, his gaze fell upon the data chip that Nyx had given him.
Three days had passed since Hoss, Jaeden and Teagen happened to meet Nyx. An act of fate, he had called it when speaking with his friends afterwards. He had pleaded with them to consider taking a meeting with Desmond, but both Jaeden and Teagen turned him down.
He had even tried to talk one on one with Teagen. She normally supported him in all his decisions. Well, maybe not all, but most. This time, she was rigidly against working with Desmond Harrington. No doubt Jaeden had gotten to her first and turned her against Hoss.
“Cowards.”
The word croaked out of Hoss’ mouth without his permission. He shook his head and ran a hand across his face. He exhaled deeply, causing him to blow lip bubbles. Hoss looked at the dash of his hovercar and noted the time.
“Alright, come on man. Let’s do this already.” He said anxiously, shutting off the engine and opening the hovercar’s door. He stepped out onto the pavement and slammed the door shut behind him. Hoss leaned against the side of his hovercar, as he surveyed the boulevard around him.
The large boulevard was wider than most streets in New Parora to allow for larger vehicles and even some smaller spacecrafts to pass through. He watched overhead as the lights on hundreds of vehicles hurdling by created a spectacle of colors in the night sky.
A mid-size silver craft pulled out of the laneways above his head and descended down to the street level where Hoss stood. It was long and sleek, designed with aerodynamic curves. Painted neon red markings decorated the side of the hull.
Hoss shifted his weight, and he stepped back as the engines blew the air around him into a frenzy. As the ship got closer to the ground, metal feet lowered from the base of the craft, and the ship settled on the ground in front of him.
Vents shot out compressed air as the legs of the ship locked into place. With a grating sound, a long metallic bridge extended from the airlock to the ground below. Hoss nodded to himself with interest. He loved his hovercar, but to have a luxury ship like this would be something else. This was a dream vehicle, if ever he saw one.
As the bridge connected with the ground, the airlock door suddenly slid open. A figure standing inside of the ship, dressed in all black, waited at the top of the ramp. As the person descended the retractable bridge, Hoss recognized the man as the Technologist, Nyx. This was definitely Desmond’s ship, and this meeting was definitely happening. Hoss felt a rush of excitement mixed with anxiety flow through him.
Nyx stepped out of the ship onto the pavement. He nonchalantly examined his surroundings. The dark-clad figure seemingly looked right past Hoss as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the cylindrical device. Holding the pen between his index and middle finger, he inhaled deeply before blowing out a massive puff of smoke.
“You comin’ or what, man?” Nyx said, eyes still on the horizon.
Hoss looked around him casually. “You talking to me?”
“No, I’m talking to the other gun for hire we told to meet us here at this exact time,” Nyx said dryly, slowly turning his head to acknowledge Hoss.
Hoss furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw as he choked back a few key words for Desmond’s belligerent associate. He took a moment to shake his head and force a smile before walking towards the ship’s door. Nyx took another deep inhale of his device and stuffed it back into his pocket as he blew out another puff of smoke.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Nyx said, turning to walk back onto the ship.
Hoss quickly followed Nyx up the extendable bridge and passed through the airlock. The door shut behind him with a swoosh, and Hoss found himself in a brightly lit white corridor. Nyx marched down the passage with purpose. Hoss, initially awestruck by the level of luxury the craft had, fell behind Nyx’s fast pace. After a slight jog, Hoss was able to catch up to his guide, and the two stepped in stride.
They passed several other doorways, some leading to stately rooms, others leading down more corridors. The ship was much larger than Hoss had first realized, only fueling his desire to own one. Nyx suddenly turned down a side hall, and then another, all the while beckoning Hoss to follow along. He did as he was instructed, and soon he found himself in a large room, undoubtedly used as the ship’s lounge.
The room was brightly lit, and had wide windows looking out into the city. It was garishly decorated with fixtures of gold and crimson red. There was a private bar on the far end, fully stocked with liquors and spirits that Hoss knew well. Some of the bottles were valued far above his usual standard choice. He figured that the entire selection presented here, in this small collection, was worth more than his business, The Wishing Well.
Seated in a booth-stylized couch in the center of the room sat the New Paroran bondsmen broker, Desmond Harrington.
The broker was a bear of a man, with a wide jaw and large bulbous nose. His white-blonde hair was spotless and combed back over the top of his head. A well trimmed beard framed his broad and weathered face. Deep lines etched across the man’s forehead, expressing his advancing age. He wore a clean black suit, and a silk dress shirt underneath.
At first Hoss thought the man was wearing a massive yellow gold gauntlet. Upon closer inspection, Hoss realized that he simply wore dozens of gaudy gold rings and bracelets. Each sparkled with different colored gemstones.
The broker was sipping from a glass and waved the two newcomers to enter. Nyx walked further into the room and made his way to the private bar at the back. Hoss took a few steps in, continuing to marvel at the grandeur of the craft.
“Alexander, good to meet you, kid,” Desmond Harrington said, leaning back into his couch. Gesturing to the chair across from him, the broker added, “Take a seat.”
“Call me, Hoss,” Hoss replied, trying to impose a strong tone in his voice as he spoke.
“Right on, Hoss,” Desmond acknowledged. “We have a very special job, and my associate here has told me you’re the man we’ve been looking for.”
“I can do it all, sir,” Hoss said, lowering himself into the luxurious chair across from the broker.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Desmond responded.
Hoss made himself comfortable in the grand chair and linked his fingers together in front of him. “So, how can I offer my specialized services?”
“Tomorrow night, there’s a corporate convoy transferring some prototype tech to the Ullin Space Port for an off-world transfer,” Desmond said casually. The broker looked to be gauging Hoss’ reaction, then took another sip from his glass.
Hoss nodded his understanding. “Which company is moving the goods?”
“Now, now Hoss.” Desmond started, cocking his head to the side. “Can I trust that you’ll keep this info to yourself?”
“You can trust me as far as you can throw me, my guy,” Hoss said, a confident sneer spreading across his face.
“That’s further than you might think,” Nyx added, from his position at the bar.
Desmond leaned forward and shot a look to his subordinate. Hoss narrowed his eyes as he watched Nyx bow his head under his employer’s gaze.
“The Martian manufacturers of death themselves, RusaCorp,” Desmond remarked, returning his attention to Hoss and using a hand to rub across his moustache.
Hoss scoffed and shook his head. “You’re kidding, right? A weapons transfer convoy?”
“Good to know he’s at least familiar with the largest weapons producer in the sector,” Nyx added.
“Trust me, it ain’t all that,” Desmond said assuredly. “It’s an off the books transfer. One shuttle, minimal security as not to draw attention.”
Hoss rubbed his hand over his chin and squeezed it gently as he thought out loud. “This doesn’t add up. If it’s minimal security, is there anything really of value on there?”
“Broker’s code, my friend; don’t ask, don’t tell,” Desmond answered. “But my guess is, whatever’s on that shuttle is some top-shelf illegal shaz for the bid to come out like this.”
“And your client wants that illegal tech,” Hoss added.
“Not all of it, just one piece,” Desmond responded. “And that’s the trick; everything else must stay.”
“I don’t follow,” Hoss started. “Hit a weapons convoy for only one piece of cargo?”
“This has to look like a gang hit gone wrong. I’m talking loud, I’m talking exposed. Leave a trace to be followed,” Desmond instructed, taking another sip from his glass, and subsequently finishing his drink.
“Who’s the scapegoat in all of this?” Hoss asked, shifting in his chair as he thought about details.
So far, what he had been hearing wasn’t entirely what he was expecting, but he had to trust the process. This was Desmond after all. Most people didn’t get as far as he was right now.
“The Rebel Kings,” Desmond said, lifting his empty glass to show his associate. Nyx in turn picked up a bottle of liquor from the bar and brought it over to his employer.
“Shaz, that’s dangerous, my guy,” Hoss said, images of the gang running through his mind.
The Rebel Kings were famous in New Parora, let alone Mars. A group of drug smugglers and murderers that imported recreational drugs from off world. They each wore their gang patches publicly.
“Don’t worry about the fallout; Nyx has that covered,” Desmond assured, as the man’s cup was refilled by Nyx.
“I’ve got a contact at the morgue. Day of, we’ll get our hands on some fresh trigger men to plant at the scene. They won’t be real Kings, but the media won’t care.” Nyx remarked while returning the bottle to the bar area.
“And that’s mission priority two on this gig. The media. It must look legitimate, and it has to play as a gang roll gone sideways,” Desmond punctuated.
Hoss leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. He realized he had very little bargaining room in this deal but still wanted to show he was savvy enough to at least consider the task.
He pretended to weigh the options, nodding his head from one side to the other, as if in a debate with himself. After a moment of this, he clapped his hands together and leaned forward with excitement.
“Alright, we’re in,” Hoss exclaimed.
“Good,” Desmond said, “Now—”
“Let’s get down to the financials,” an over exhilarated Hoss cut in. “Job you’re describing must be coming from a big-ticket holder with plenty of zeros behind their name.”
A sneer spread across Desmond’s face, and he glanced up towards Nyx. “You could say that.” The broker passed a finger over his mustache again, turning his gaze back to Hoss. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” Hoss started, his mind moving a mile a minute. He knew he was in a precarious position, not wanting to overextend his hand but also wanting to see if he could work out a good deal. “We’ll have to charge a premium for this one. Afterall, you’re talking a corporate hit here, and we’ll have to get some new gear to take down a corporate convoy.”
“Your last job, Cyrus paid you what, five hundred all in?” Desmond asked, taking a sip from his glass.
Hoss furrowed his brow slightly but realized Nyx likely had done some research on Hoss and his friends. “Yeah, that’s about right.”
Desmond pursed his lips together and feigned a look of contemplation. “I’ll pay you two million, but only since you asked so nicely.”
Hoss had to fight to keep his left eyebrow from shooting up with interest. “Alright. Not bad. I think I could sing this song to—"
“Each, of course,” Desmond added before taking another sip from his glass and placing it on the table in front of him.
Hoss’ lip and eye quivered for a moment as the number sank in. “Six million. In total?”
“Mathematical wizard aren’t you,” Nyx added, ever on the sidelines of the conversation.
“That’s right, six million all in,” Desmond confirmed. “Split it three ways or wash the numbers and give yourself a bigger cut; I don’t care. So long as the job gets done and done right.”
Hoss nodded for a long moment as he considered. All he could muster in response was a simple word. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Desmond asked.
“Okay,” Hoss confirmed.
“You don’t need to talk it over with your team?” Desmond said, cocking his head to the side.
“Nah, he’s the leader of their group,” Nyx chimed in. “He doesn’t have to ask them; he tells them.”
“Perfect,” Desmond said, clapping his hand on the back of his couch. “I knew we had the right man.”
“Alright,” Hoss said nodding, regaining his senses. “Here’s how I see it going down. First, we—”
“Easy there, captain.” Nyx quickly cut Hoss off.
“We got the whole thing planned out already,” Desmond added. “We’ve got GXA rockets which will knock the sucker out of the sky for you. Once the bird is flightless, you board it, find the research locked up, and retrieve this box.” Desmond then placed a hallo-disc on the table. An image of a heavy metal box, just slightly larger than a weapon case, materialized above the disc. “This is your target. You’ll know it by the special markings listed on the side here.”
The broker pointed at a triangular logo with an R in the center. Hoss nodded his understanding as he studied the symbol.
“Got it, down the ship, steal the case, get out,” Hoss repeated simply.
“That’s all there is to it.” Desmond reaffirmed.
“And remember, keep your fingers to yourselves,” Nyx added.
Desmond nodded with his associate’s comment, first pointing at Nyx then back at Hoss. “And keep your fingers to yourselves.” The broker repeated as if to underscore the command.
“Listen, you pay a professional fee, you’re gonna’ get professional work,” Hoss reassured his new employer.
“That’s very good, kid,” Desmond said, a wide-toothed grin taking shape on the man's face. “Very good.”
“I’ll be tagging along too, of course,” Nyx added.
“You sure? My crew and I can handle this on our own. I mean, unless—”
Desmond put his hand up to silence Hoss before he went on any further. “Just as a backup. Nyx is my eyes and ears in all things. Don’t get me wrong, you boys will be doing the heavy lifting. Nyx will be there just in case.”
Hoss pursed his lips together and nodded. “Alright, cool.”
“I’ll get you the full details now so you can head back and share with your team.” Nyx offered, walking towards the doorway.
“Oh, and Hoss,” Desmond started. “There’s no second-place prize for this job. It’s all or nothin’, got it?”
“Good thing I only go for gold then, isn’t it?” Hoss said.
Desmond laughed and nodded his head, pointing towards Hoss. “Right answer, son.”
Hoss pointed back at Desmond, and he could feel a smile spread across his face. Nyx slapped Hoss on the back and encouraged him to follow him out of the ship. Hoss turned with Nyx, and the two left the lounge area of the ship and headed back to the airlock. His first meeting with Desmond was a success, and by all accounts, he was in.
He couldn’t wait to get back to the Wishing Well and fill Teagen and Jaeden in on their new job. Surely after they hear how many credits they would make on this job they would admit he was right to take the meeting.
“Notice anything different?” Teagen said, blinking more frequently than usual.
Jaeden sat in a booth at the Wishing Well, opposite from Teagen. She had come into the bar and announced she had made a big upgrade but now played a game with Jaeden to see if he could figure out what work she had done. Initially, he didn’t notice anything different in her appearance. From head to toe she looked the same to him, but her dramatic blinking caught his attention. Focusing in on her eyes, Jaeden realized they were different.
Surrounding her black pupils was a ring of white dots, making up the inner circle of her iris. Encompassing those white dots, were two separate-colored rings; the inner ring was a deep red, and the outer ring was a bright gold. While he stared into Teagen’s new mechanical eyes, Jaeden swore he could see the mechanised pupils expanding and closing.
“Are those…” Jaeden started, shifting in his seat uneasily.
Teagen smiled and leaned back in her seat. “Entirely cybernetic, yes. I decided it was time to upgrade my optical systems.”
“Oh, that’s wicked,” Jaeden said, inspecting the eyes closer.
“As you well know, optical equipment is essential in performing technical brute force attacks or denial of service—”
“Come again?” Jaeden interrupted, putting his hands up and waving them back and forth.
“They help visualize hacking, to put it bluntly,” Teagen explained simply.
“Is that how it works then? Optical upgrades let you hack into things?” Jaeden asked.
He had never really understood the specifics of how Technologists operated. All he knew was that they were essentially superheroes that could manipulate things and people with their minds.
“Think of it like this; it allows you to see invisible things that are right in front of you. It gives you sixth sense, in a way. For example, this room is filled with various forms of gases—nitrogen, oxygen, and even traces of argon—all of which you cannot see with your natural eyes but are ever present.”
