by Logan Jacobs
But that was some other fuck’s problem, not mine. I estimated the speed that I would need to slingshot myself around the fighter craft, and I stayed right behind it even as it weaved in and out of the other fighters. We were up to the speed that I needed by now, so all I needed was two seconds of a clear stretch of space to launch myself out past the thickest clusters of Dominion fighters.
“That assumes they do not pull you in with this powerful magnet,” Honey Bee observed.
“You just said unusual magnetic activity,” I corrected her. “You didn’t say anything about it being a goddamn tractor beam.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” she answered.
We were about to find out. The cruiser hummed on my left as a porthole opened in the side of the vessel. The hum got louder as I followed along on the fighter craft’s tail, and when it swerved to double-back on itself, so did I. We shifted forward again a second later, and that was when I saw it.
The porthole in the Dominion cruiser hadn’t opened to fire a weapon on me. It had opened to reveal a long beam-like structure that I was almost positive was the source of the loud hum all around me. When the beam inside the Dominion craft suddenly sparked, I realized just how deep in the shit I was.
The power on the Skyhawk fluttered off and on several times as the beam continued to spark. Every time we lost power, the ship went completely dark inside, and we plunged wildly through the middle of the Dominion fighters. When the power flickered back on, it gave me just enough time to adjust our course so that I didn’t crash into the cruiser or a cluster of the fighter crafts.
Each time I looped past the cruiser, I saw through the cockpit window that there were more sparks, and they had almost collected themselves into a solid mass of blue light. Maybe they really did have some sort of tractor beam.
Either way, it was high time I got the fuck out of there.
The next time I lost power, I was ready for it. I had timed the number of seconds between power flickers, so when I was about to enter the next dark period, I aimed the Skyhawk exactly where I needed her to drift. Right on time, the lights and steering went out inside the smuggling ship. I plunged down in the direction I wanted to go, right along the edge of another thick cluster of Dominion fighters.
It didn’t really matter whether the beam of blue sparks was a tractor beam or some sort of super magnet. I just needed to get away from it, and as soon as I skirted the Skyhawk past the latest influx of Dominion fighters, my plan went into effect. As I drifted past them, the beam from the cruiser locked onto the cluster of fighters instead of me.
The fighter crafts all lost control of their systems. Several crashed into each other, and in the confusion, several of the others opened fire on their own ships. With the wreckage in between me and the Dominion cruiser, the power came back on in the Skyhawk just as I entered a spin.
I gripped the throttle and veered down and away from the cruiser and fighter crafts. My ship was too damaged to enter hyperspace again, but even without hyperdrive, I could still outrace these assholes. I shifted into impulse drive and was pleased to see that it still worked.
The cruiser had some kind of new weapon that I wanted no part of, that was for sure, but it was also still a cruiser. It might have big guns and an impressive number of fighter crafts, but its size also meant that it moved slowly, especially when it had to accelerate. I glanced at the radar as I left the cruiser behind me. It should send fighters after me, but by the time the interference from the beam stopped, I would be far enough away that they couldn’t catch up. Plus, there was the small fact that I planned to lose them in the light of the Deltulu sun.
I pulled up and headed straight into the light. My eyes winced behind my shielding glasses, but I just continued to fly straight ahead. The Skyhawk’s radar pinged to let me know that several crafts approached from behind, and I did a quick barrel-roll in case their weapons systems locked on to me.
Sure enough, I lost them in the light of the sun just as the planet of Deltulu blinked onto my radar far up ahead. The fighter crafts behind me disappeared from the screen, and I knew I had better land my ass on the Alexandria soon, or the Dominion would find me for sure. All they had to do was send some ships up from Deltulu or have the cruiser just catch up with me before I was safely hidden away on the crime lord’s space station.
And I didn’t figure that Favian Grith would take too kindly to anyone who brought the Dominion straight to his doorstep.
Before long, the Alexandria appeared like the promise of a new dawn on the horizon. I exhaled and guided the Skyhawk toward the space station. She had been a good ship, as much as I hated to admit it, and I’d even grown a little fond of her in our time together. But at the end of the day, she was still a floating piece of garbage, and more importantly, she was still that self-important asshole’s ship.
I hailed the Alexandria when I was closer, and they dropped the force fields on the hangar to let me approach. I wondered if Favian Grith had already disposed of the transport ship I’d stolen and reclassified as a medical craft for him, or if I’d be able to take another craft from him instead. If I was a major crime lord, I certainly wouldn’t part with one of my best ships just to get a contract worker off my space station. But Grith also seemed like a man with ships enough to spare.
I guided the Skyhawk into the hangar. I thought I smelled the faint scent of smoke from the damage that the ship had sustained during the fight with the Dominion, but I hoped that was just my imagination. If it was bad enough that I could smell it inside the ship, I could only imagine how bad the damage looked and smelled from the outside.
I armed myself with my two projectile guns, my hunting knife, and the laser gun that I attached to my ankle. I figured that it would probably be overkill if I walked out with the machete strapped to my back, so I just stuffed it into my pack instead. I also loaded my bag with all the ammunition it would take, and I was glad to see that there was still a flare and two grenades left inside.
I wasn’t looking for a fight. I usually wasn’t, but if a fight happened to find me, I would sure as hell be prepared.
With the pack slung across my back, I opened the boarding ramp and exited the Skyhawk into the sparkling clean hangar of the Alexandria. To my surprise, I wasn’t met by Grith’s angry second-in-command this time. Instead, the crime lord himself entered the hangar just as I exited the smuggler’s ship.
“That is either very good or very bad,” Honey Bee observed.
From the smell of smoke in the air beside the Skyhawk, I had a feeling that it might be very bad.
“Trevor Onyx, as I live and breathe,” the well-dressed crime lord greeted me. “I was beginning to think you might have decided to keep the Skyhawk for yourself.”
“Now, would I ever keep something for myself when I know you want it so badly?” I shook his hand. “I just don’t think I could live with myself.”
Favian Grith smiled and touched the ends of his mustache, and I was reminded of how much I didn’t trust that smile. I hadn’t been immediately shot or thrown off the space station, so it could have been worse, but I got the feeling that if you pissed Grith off, he was perfectly content to take his time in making you pay.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” the crime lord began, “but I’m almost certain I mentioned that I needed the Skyhawk to be intact, did I not?”
“You did, absolutely,” I agreed, “and I can assure you that she is in tip-top shape where it counts, and absolutely spotless when it comes to her operating systems.”
“I must not have been clear,” Grith said with a smile. “If I had been, I’m sure you would have understood that I meant intact both inside and out, wouldn’t you?”
“There is no right answer,” Honey Bee chimed softly.
That was abundantly clear. I weighed my options as I scanned the surrounding hangar. It was full of Grith’s people, and I would have bet anything that more of them were armed than weren’t. I probably had more weapons on my person than any of them did,
and I definitely knew how to use them better than any of these assholes. So really, it was just a numbers game.
I decided to try a different approach first. Sure, Grith had only gotten to be a crime lord with some cutthroat decisions, but he also continued to be successful only because he was still reasonable. Or at least, he could still be reasonable, if it suited his purposes.
“I’ll admit, there were some complications,” I exhaled. “Some unexpected cargo, a few run-ins with the Dominion, even a few with the ULA.”
“Really?” Grith smiled. “Please, tell me more.”
“I didn’t know you took such an interest in the affairs of the government, or of the rebels,” I said carefully.
“I take an interest in interesting things,” the crime lord responded. “You were saying? Something about some unexpected cargo, I believe?”
I had told the princess I hardly ever lied, except when I had to. But from the sinister way that Grith smiled, I figured this was one of those times where I had to. The crime lord adjusted the silk bandana around his throat as if he imagined it was a noose he might wrap around someone else’s.
“Oh, just some medical supplies, some pharmaceuticals, that kind of thing,” I answered. “I traded them for food and fuel, that’s all.”
“And yet somehow that involved you making enemies of both the Dominion and the ULA? Or were your run-ins perhaps of a friendlier nature?”
It was going to be a beautiful day when I got the fuck off the Alexandria and finally left the blasted Skyhawk with it.
“Well, Grith,” I sighed, “I don’t know if you can tell this about me, but I tend to make friends wherever I go. I also tend to make enemies wherever I go, but it’s not my fault that people get jealous. I mean, look at me.”
The mustached crime lord just smiled and waved for me to continue with my story.
“So like I was saying, I had some… complicated… exchanges with a number of different people on a couple of different planets, but the important stuff is still all in one piece, and I’ve already fixed anything that was too banged up.”
Grith glanced at the landing gear on the underside of the Skyhawk.
“See that?” I pointed. “That should have been a problem, but I fixed her right up, even though that asshole obviously hadn’t taken proper care of her in years.”
“Did you have any problems with Leon?” the crime lord demanded.
“Nope,” I answered. “Was I supposed to?”
Grith just adjusted his silk bandana again.
“He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking,” I told him. “At least, he wasn’t when I last saw him. I can’t promise anything about his current status.”
“And there was nothing else on board besides the medical supplies?” the crime lord asked. “The pharmaceuticals, as you called them?”
“Just some piss-poor choices in meal replacement,” I said with a grin. “Nothing like your own fine choices when it comes to refreshment.”
“You can’t buy taste,” Grith agreed. “Come with me. If the ship’s controls are still as intact as you say, then we can arrange your payment, and you can be on your way. You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust your word alone.”
“No apology necessary,” I exhaled. “A job’s a job, after all, and you’ve got yours just the same as I’ve got mine.”
“So glad you understand.”
The crime lord smiled his unsettling smile and walked with me onto the Skyhawk and up to the bridge. He poked around at a few of the buttons, as if he didn’t know what he was doing, but I knew that it was just an act. Favian Grith clearly had something very specific that he wanted from the Skyhawk, and it was also clearly not something he wanted to advertise.
“So is this where you kill me so you don’t have any witnesses?” I joked.
“Trevor-- I can call you Trevor, right?” Grith exhaled. “I could kill you anywhere on this space station, in front of any number of people, and I wouldn’t have any witnesses.”
“Well, sure you could,” I sighed. “After all, you’re the boss. But I think you’re forgetting one thing.”
“Please, do tell me,” the crime lord answered.
“Killing me requires catching me,” I warned.
The palms of my hands itched to hold their guns, and I almost moved my vest out of the way to grab them. But then Favian Grith just laughed. It sounded damn near genuine, so I relaxed my stance slightly.
“And that’s why I’m going to pay you, not kill you,” the crime lord said finally. “I like you too much. You’ve got that… oh, what’s it called?”
“I think you mean I’ve got It,” I emphasized. “The ‘It’ factor. What everyone wants and everyone wants to be around.”
“That’s It,” the mustached man laughed again. “Now, let’s talk about payment.”
The crime lord bent down beside the controls, fiddled with something underneath them, and then examined the display again. He half-powered the ship on, just enough for all the lights to flicker and hold steady.
“I thought we already arranged the terms of our payment,” I said carefully.
“We did,” Grith observed, “but that was also with the understanding that you would bring the Skyhawk back unscathed. And while she may be fine on the inside, as you said, she is less so from the outside.”
I watched as the crime lord skimmed his fingers across the controls. He seemed to press buttons at random, so the display filled with one number after another with no apparent rhyme or reason. First, the fuel level was shown, then the shifting coordinates of the Skyhawk as the Alexandria continued its orbit around Deltulu.
Grith adjusted the silk bandana at his throat and carelessly ran his fingers over a few more keys, so the coordinates on display blinked and changed, and then blinked and changed again. I watched him closely but kept my expression neutral. The coordinates changed a few more times, and then the crime lord passed his fingers along the control buttons. The display shifted to show the weapons systems before he powered down the ship again.
“And her outside is important?” I challenged. “You seem more interested in her insides, if I’m being honest.”
“You are an observant man,” Grith said, “even through your, shall we say, trademark sunglasses.”
“Hey, everybody’s got a gimmick, right?” I smiled. “I like your bandana, by the way.”
Grith adjusted the green silken fabric at his throat and then straightened the collar of his dark green suit jacket on either side of the bandana.
“Thank you,” he replied, “but unfortunately, the fact that you like my attire does not change the fact that I needed the Skyhawk to be brought to me without any damage. If you recall, I did tell you that I was a relic hunter, and relics ought to be preserved as intact as possible. You know, for history.”
“I hope that means the Skyhawk is going into some antique museum for old ships that ought to have been retired decades ago,” I said.
“Something like that,” Grith said vaguely, and again he gave a vaguely sinister smile.
“Before you quote me your new offer price,” I sighed, “let me just state my case. You say that relics ought to be preserved as intact as possible, right?”
Grith nodded and touched the curled end of his mustache.
“Well, I’ll be honest with you, old pal. The Skyhawk is absolutely, one hundred percent, as intact as humanly possible. There were a few hiccups that I feel, personally, you could have perhaps warned me about.”
“And these hiccups are to blame for the present condition of the Skyhawk?”
“Let’s just call them contributing factors,” I replied. “For one thing, your old pal Leon Cotranis didn’t exactly keep her in a pristine museum condition himself. She was already pretty scuffed up when I got her.”
“And?” Grith pressed.
“And for another thing,” I continued, “I had no idea the Skyhawk would be such a popular target for the forces of the almighty Dominion. I don’t know if
you know this or not, but they seem to have quite the problem with your old friend Leon.”
“I am… aware,” the crime lord said, “of how easily the smuggler makes enemies.”
“So you’re not surprised that the Dominion might have taken it a little personally?”
“Taken what personally?” Grith asked.
“Oh, just me running around in the Skyhawk,” I answered, “and just generally not obeying their orders to stay put and bend over.”
“Did they follow you here?” the crime lord demanded.
“I doubt it,” I said with a shrug. “They tried to follow me, but I lost them. So unless they managed to get some sort of tracking device on the Skyhawk without me knowing about it, I doubt very much that they could follow me here.”
“Oh, I doubt very much that they followed you,” Grith echoed, “and I appreciate that bringing the Skyhawk back might have been… difficult. Be that as it may…”
“You’re still not willing to pay full price,” I finished for him.
“Oh good, so you agree,” the crime lord said.
“I won’t say that I agree,” I sighed, “but I understand. So I tell you what-- I like you, Grith, so I’m willing to take a… fifteen percent cut from the original promised price.”
“Very proactive,” the crime lord responded. “I like that.”
“Now I know I’m quite the contract worker, but sadly, as charming and talented as I am, I’m not for permanent hire,” I told him.
“Who said anything about wanting to hire you permanently?” Grith asked with a smile.
“Oh, I just have a sense about these things,” I sighed.
“What if I offered you the full price I had promised for the Skyhawk?” the crime lord challenged. “If I paid you in full, with the understanding that you would work for me now, would you still say no? Would you still be, let’s say, unavailable for permanent hire?”
I paused before I responded, just for a second. It was a lot of money, and I wasn’t too proud to admit that I wanted it. Between the money from the princess and the money from the Alfaromero-31, I had done pretty well for myself lately, but I hadn’t reached my goal yet. The full promised paycheck from Grith would go a long way toward getting me there.