by J. N. Chaney
“I don’t care,” I said again as I drank more of my booze. “If Ollie sent him, he should’ve reached out to ask me first. Tell whoever it is to go away. There are loads of ships in the dock. Must be at least a few who’d take him where he wants to go.”
I didn’t like turning away money, but transport jobs rarely paid well enough to make it worth the time and fuel. I’d taken on a few in my day, sure, and I probably would again, but that was usually out of desperation. And I wasn’t alone in that, either. From what I’d heard, other Renegades only accepted those jobs when they really needed the cash, if the stop was in the same direction they were already headed, or if they needed cover to look credible.
I didn’t want to waste my downtime doing work that barely paid.
For a moment, Sigmond didn’t answer, and I figured he must be speaking with whatever idiot waited outside my ship.
“Sir,” said the AI.
I groaned and leaned my head over the back of the couch. “What, Siggy?”
“He offered to double the pay if you are willing to leave immediately.”
With the bottle hovering by my lips momentarily forgotten, I raised one eyebrow. “And what’s the price?”
“Fifteen hundred credits.” When Sigmond told me the number, I nearly spit my drink out. It was enough to cover the trip four times. Hell, maybe even five. If he wanted to get off Taurus that badly, he was either up to something illegal or truly desperate for a ride. There were enough public transport ships to take him there, but maybe he didn’t like crowds—or maybe they wouldn’t arrive fast enough.
I rubbed my face, wondering if I was really going to do this. If this was truly worth my time, or if I’d up neck deep in another round of illegal, crazy shit I didn’t need to be wrapped up in.
“Tell him to triple it. See what he says,” I ordered, half-regretting the words as they came out of my mouth. I didn’t want to do this, but easy money was easy money, and I had to test the limits of this man’s desperation.
“Yes, sir,” said Sigmond.
While the AI spoke with the traveler, I corked the bottle in my hand and stowed the whiskey in the kitchen. Maybe I’d take some time off once I got back.
“Sir,” said Sigmond. “The traveler has agreed to your terms, though he had a few choice words about the price. He also said he would like to know if he has to argue with an AI for the entire trip, or if you’re a real person.”
I chuckled. Maybe I’d like this guy after all. “Tell him to transfer the cash, and then I’ll open the door.”
“Right away,” said the AI.
There was a pause before Sigmond spoke again. Maybe a full two minutes.
“Transfer complete.”
I smiled. Now this was more like it. “Verify that for me, Siggy. Is it all there?”
“Yes, sir. The full amount is now in your account.”
I whistled, still very much a fan of that number. He must’ve really wanted to leave, because it would’ve been smarter to give me half up front and the other half when he was on board.
But no complaints here.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, finally getting to my feet. I jogged down the stairs and into the cargo hold. My boots thumped on the floor with every step, and two loud bangs echoed from the other side of the door as he slammed his fist on my ship.
I frowned and eased my hand to rest on the gun at my hip. “Open the door, Siggy.”
“Opening cargo bay gate,” said Sigmond.
Slow and controlled, the door eased down and clamped securely on the floor, finally revealing the man who was so eager to leave this place that he’d pay a small fortune to do it today. He carried a single suitcase and adjusted the hat on his head with his free hand as I glanced him over.
Tall guy. Decent build. Broad shoulders and a scar on his hand, possibly from a fight. An empty holster around his thigh caught my attention, and the lack of a visible gun concerned me. Either he’d lost it, or he’d hidden it somewhere, maybe in a suitcase. I’d seen it before when someone had to pass through a checkpoint.
Either way, I figured he could hold his own, so I’d keep an eye on him. Maybe have Sigmond lock his room for most of the trip. And if he didn’t like it, too bad.
I was getting paid to deliver him, not cater to his every need. And, well, he’d already paid me.
“Welcome to the Renegade Star,” I said dryly. “Get in and let’s go.”
“Thanks for taking me,” he said with a strained smile, then he stepped into the cargo bay with his suitcase at his side. His eyes scanned the interior of my ship, curiously. “I’ve never been in a vessel like this before.”
“That’s nice for you,” I said. “Siggy, close up. Let’s take off.”
“Closing cargo bay gate,” said Sigmond.
The ship rumbled as the door closed behind the man seconds after he’d stepped into the hold. He wandered into the middle of the room, brow furrowed as he continued to study my ship. With his back to me now, I wondered if it would be worthwhile to give him the tour. On the rare instance when I’d taken transport jobs, I hadn’t bothered, mostly because I didn’t care to hear someone’s life story. People were prone to ramble on about things when you spent too much time with them, especially passengers.
I pointed toward the stairs. “Head up that way and wait in the lounge. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Sure, of course,” he said as he rolled out his shoulders.
I didn’t have anything to do down here, but I mostly wanted to keep from turning my back on the guy. He was a stranger on my ship, carrying gods knew what in that suitcase. My gut told me he was either running away from trouble or sprinting toward it.
It felt like I was being kind of paranoid to assume the worst of this guy, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
As the cargo bay door closed and sealed, however, he stopped dead in his tracks. In a lightning fast movement, he pivoted on his heel and drew a pistol from the depths of his coat, then he quickly aimed the barrel toward me before carelessly tossing the suitcase aside. The case bounced across the floor and hit the far wall, sounding hollow.
Damn it.
Sometimes, I hated being right.
I reached for my pistol, but he cocked his gun before I had the chance. “Don’t move.”
“Sir,” said Sigmond through the ship’s speakers. “Is there anything I can—”
“He tries anything, and you die,” the stranger warned, pointing toward the nearest speaker with his free hand.
With an irritated sigh, I showed him my palms but kept my hands close to my waist in case I got the chance to draw my gun. “What do you want?”
“Answers,” he said, his tone flat. “And if you don’t talk fast enough, I’m going to start filling your legs and arms with bullets until you do.”
Fun.
He was threatening me inside my own property. Bad move. I knew the Star better than anyone, and I wasn’t about to let another man kill me on my own ship.
I’d put a bullet between his eyes for this, and after being conned into letting him on board the Star, I’d enjoy doing it.
14
As the stranger in my cargo bay held me at gunpoint, each of us waited for the other to move first.
I’d reach for my gun the moment he gave me the chance. If he lost focus for even a second, I might be able to get out of this.
The only question was why. What did this stranger want with me? Was this just an average, everyday theft? Perhaps it was nothing more than a wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. I was a nobody, barely a year into this business, so what other reason could there be? No one knew me. I was just another Renegade in the Deadlands, walking the line on making an honest living from questionable people.
If I made it out of this alive, I figured I might hold a gun to everyone who walked on my ship after this. Sure, it would probably lose me a fair bit of work, but better to be choosy about my company than end up with a bullet in my back. Considering how
much he had paid me to walk on board, it had been a safe bet to think he was sincere about the job.
Some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and I was certainly learning mine right now.
“How many people are on the ship?” he asked with a nod toward the staircase behind him.
“Seven,” I lied. “The welcome committee is coming out to—”
“Can it,” he snapped. “Tell your AI to run a diagnostic so I can tell.”
With the gun to my face, I sighed. “Siggy, run a scan of the ship and notify the good hobo of who else is here.”
“An accurate scan,” the stranger interjected.
My jaw tensed as I stared him down. “An accurate scan, Siggy.”
“The only lifeforms on board are the two of you, both of whom are in the cargo bay,” answered Sigmond.
“Good.” The stranger lifted his free hand to his ear and pressed a finger against a comm. I hadn’t seen it when he’d walked on board, but I also hadn’t been looking for one. It wasn’t uncommon for most people to have a comm, whether to communicate or simply listen to a book or the news. The stranger stared at me, keeping his weapon fixed on my chest the whole time. “I got him.”
Okay, so probably not the news, then. Fantastic.
“Who exactly do you think I am?” I asked, trying to stall for time and get a bit of intel in the process.
“Yeah, on his ship,” the guy said, ignoring me. “The Renegade Star.”
“If you think I’m letting someone else barge in here, you’re mistaken,” I pointed out.
“Shut your godsdamn mouth,” he snapped, his finger coiling around the trigger and daring me to do something stupid. “You’re in deep shit, and right now you don’t get to talk unless I ask a question. Understand? This isn’t your day, but give me what I need and maybe you’ll see another one.”
“Fair point,” I said, mostly to placate him. “But seriously, I think there’s been a mix-up here.”
“That’s an understatement.” He took a step toward me. “I work for the Union, and we know you had the data stick, Captain Hughes.”
Well, shit.
Several times over.
This wasn’t some random robbery at all. The Union knew my name, apparently, and about the stick. This debacle just kept getting better and better.
“You’re a loose end, Hughes, but if you want to survive this, you’re going to do everything I tell you to do, and you’re going to be happy to do it.”
“You’re the boss,” I lied.
Anything to make him think he was in control.
I mean, technically he had the gun and I didn’t, but I could grab my own pistol the moment he let his guard down. As soon as he thought I wasn’t a threat, he was a dead man, Union or otherwise.
Having the corpse of a government officer on my ship could go badly in all sorts of ways, but the most likely outcome was that I’d die in some offworld jail cell after they’d broken every bone in my body for information. With a fate like that, I wasn’t sure it was worth living for.
For a moment, I debated offering to sell him the stick, but that idea would probably just get me killed sooner rather than later. He wanted the device, and offering to let him buy it would just be proof I had it. The Union would disassemble my entire ship to find the data drive, and they’d do it in record time.
Sure, I could probably come up with a lie about how we needed to leave the ship to get to it, but in the end an elaborate and convoluted story like that probably wouldn’t work out well for me.
Situations like this didn’t usually end with a man living and people putting ridiculous sums of money in his bank account. They ended with a dead body, and the thing he’d wanted to sell long gone.
The stranger’s gaze darted toward the gun at my hip, and I could tell he was debating whether or not to take it.
If he reached for my pistol, he would have to walk toward me and give up the advantage.
If he told me to drop my gun on the floor, then I could probably outdraw him. The open cargo bay didn’t give either of us much opportunity for cover, and I would probably get a bullet in me at some point, but Taurus Station had some decent doctors who could patch me up without any questions. With a little bit of luck and a few credits spent, I might survive the day.
“What—” He frowned and looked slightly off to the side, his free hand rising to his ear again as he listened to something I couldn’t hear. “What do you mean you’re—godsdammit, get over here right now. We don’t have time for this.”
My jaw tensed, and even though my arms began to ache from holding them in the uncomfortable position near my waist, I wasn’t about to move. This could be the opportunity I was looking for to gain the advantage and wrench the gun from him.
“This is more important than—” He groaned with disgust as whoever was on the other line interrupted him.
“Lover’s quarrel?” I asked, unable to control the small smile pulling at the edge of my mouth.
He glared at me, his eyes snapping into focus as he shook his head. “Don’t test me, Hughes.”
“Do I get to know your name?” I gestured toward him, trying to test how much I could move my hands without him pulling the trigger.
“Don’t move!” he shouted, taking another step toward me as he aimed the barrel of his gun between my eyes.
Damn. Didn’t look like I could get away with that, then.
“Fine, fine,” I said, still showing him my palms to placate him. “What you and the wife do is none of my concern.”
“My partner will be here any minute,” he snapped, ignoring me. “If you don’t tell me where the data stick is before he arrives, you’ll find out the hard way that I’m the nice one. I ask questions before I shoot people, but he just likes listening to the screams, then he pieces it all together afterward. Do you understand?”
With my life at stake and the data stick hidden in the secret compartment behind the Union officer, I wondered how dumb I could play this without him skipping the questions and going straight to the shooting-me part.
I wanted to kick myself. It had been a mistake to take off from Taurus Station before Sigmond had scrambled the tracker, but the risk of waiting was too high.
It had been a lose-lose scenario, no matter how I looked at it.
If the Union had captured coordinates transmitting from my ship, then they had irrefutable proof that I had the device at some point. I couldn’t say I’d never seen it or had it in my possession, but that didn’t mean I had to admit fault right now. This man wouldn’t get me to admit to the full truth—even if he did have a gun to my face.
“I dropped it off,” I lied. “I didn’t exactly have a long, heartfelt chat with the person I gave it to, so I don’t know who they are or where it is now. I just delivered it. That was my job. I had no idea what it was or who it belonged to. Since you’re here, I assume it was yours? Pity you went and lost it.”
“I’m an operative, not some common officer.” His eyes narrowed as he corrected me. “We take care of problems… loose ends and obstacles, whatever word you want to use for what you are. So you need to stop testing me, Hughes, because if I want to, I can kill you right now and wipe your name from every public record available, and not just on the gal-net. No one in Union space or the Deadlands will ever remember you existed. Do you understand me? You’ll be worse than dead. You’ll have never even existed.”
“What a treat,” I said with a strained smile.
“Now cut the shit. Our contact within the Sarkonian Empire says the stick they got was a fake. That means the last person known to have the drive was you.”
It took everything in me not to cringe. I wanted to rub my face in frustration and maybe punch a wall to vent some of this tension, but I forced myself to keep eye contact with the Union operative holding a gun on me and didn’t so much as betray a single emotion.
I couldn’t risk it.
This was no longer a bid to get the upper hand on him. This was a life-or-death
bluff, and I didn’t have many cards left to play.
I had to roll with this, and I didn’t have time to come up with a decent plan. I’d just have to think on my feet.
“Look around you,” I told the operative as I took in my sparse cargo bay. “Does it look like I have a high-tech operation going on here? I’m just a simple guy trying to make an honest living, and it was a normal delivery job to me, same as any other. If the stick wasn’t genuine, someone else swapped it somewhere along the way before it got to me. It went through a lot of hands before I even touched it.”
“For your sake, you’d better still have the real one,” said the operative, ignoring me yet again.
He closed the distance between us until he was only just out of reach, carefully avoiding me even while he brought the barrel of the gun so close it would be nearly impossible to miss, even for a bad shot.
“You have ten seconds to give me the information I want,” he warned.
“And then what?” I asked. If this really was my last chance, then I might as well drop the charade. “If you kill me, then you’ll never find out where it is.”
It was a risky move, suggesting that I knew more. It was only a nugget of information, just enough to tease his curiosity. With him being so close to blowing my head off, I needed to do something to buy myself more time.
I just had to hope that he and his buddy weren’t the torturing type who threw you in a dark room until you spilled your literal or metaphorical guts.
“Alright,” said the operative as he took a few wary steps backward. “Put your hands on your head and walk up the stairs.”
He gestured toward the staircase with the pistol, but the movement was too quick for me to take advantage of it. I hated turning my back to him, but I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter.
I set my hands on my head and thrummed my fingers against my scalp to feign indifference. I took slow, deliberate steps toward the stairs, milking every second for all it was worth. With the gun still on my hip, I stood a chance—but not for long, and not if I didn’t act soon.
The Operative’s boots thudded against the floor in time with mine, and I cast a quick look over my shoulder to gauge his distance. He walked behind me, out of reach even as we neared the stairs, and his pistol remained trained on my torso the entire time.