by Logan Jacobs
“Really?” Orla sounded interested.
“Really,” I responded. “It’s very shiny, it’s very fast, and it could be all yours, if your little rebel group is interested.”
“You mean, you’d bring it back here?” the brunette asked.
“Yes, indeed,” I answered. “So long as you kind folks will give me a different ship to pilot out of there.”
“I’m sure we could do that,” Orla said. “Can you give me just a minute? Don’t… don’t go anywhere. I just need to check with Arrin before I make you any promises.”
“I’ll be here, sweetness,” I sighed. “Go on and check with the good captain.”
Her image fuzzed before she disappeared from view, and I leaned back into the soft cushion of the pilot’s chair. This seat was clearly designed by somebody who had spent a few too many hours in a shit one, because Seven’s pilot seat was goddamn comfortable. I might not even use the sleeping quarters at all.
Orla appeared back on the projection screen a minute later. She looked very pleased with herself, and when she tucked a stray hair back behind her ear, I almost imagined I could smell crushed oranges.
“We’ll take it,” the princess announced. “Arrin says to just make sure you’re not tracked or followed, but the ULA will buy it from you and give you a different ship when you reach the Napoleon.”
“And the ULA has the funds for it?” I pressed. “You don’t even want to know my asking price?”
“Arrin says they can… we can pay whatever you ask for it,” Orla explained. “He says it’s too valuable of an opportunity to pass up.”
“Well, I agree with him there,” I answered. “You’re not gonna try to just take it from me and stiff me on my payment now, are you?”
“Of course not,” the princess defended. “We’re not…”
“Criminals?” I laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I’ll take your word on this, princess, but if I so much as sniff something out of place, you can kiss this ship and my own fine self goodbye.”
“They’ll pay you,” Orla assured me. “They have… well, they’re not short on cash, I can tell you that much.”
It was almost sweet, how much she seemed to be enjoying having her little secrets with her precious ULA. I couldn’t decide what I should take bets on first-- how quickly she’d tell me all the secrets she’d sworn to Arrin and the rest of the rebels that she’d keep, or how quickly she’d get over being mad at me once I stepped off Seven and blew her a kiss.
“I would take both of those bets,” Honey Bee offered. “But my answer to both of them would be the same. Almost instantly.”
I laughed and turned my attention back to the princess.
“Glad we’ve sorted that out,” I announced. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
“I’ll see you soon, then,” the princess responded, and then she cleared her throat as her cheeks turned red. “I mean, we’ll see you soon.”
“See you, princess,” I laughed.
She blinked her green eyes prettily at me before I cut the call. I had a feeling Honey Bee’s estimated timeline was right. In fact, I was pretty sure she’d already forgiven me for leaving her on such short notice.
I double-checked the coordinates to make sure I was headed for the Napoleon, and then I entered hyperspace. As soon as I sat comfortably back in my pilot’s chair, I noticed another button underneath the keyboard where I had input the destination coordinates. I couldn’t resist it, so I just shrugged and pressed it to see what it did.
The projection display filled with a series of coordinates. I only recognized the last pair since they belonged to the Alexandria, but Honey Bee identified one of the other coordinates as a Dominion-controlled city on a planet I’d never been to. I realized I was looking at a history of the coordinates that Seven had been to so far in her short lifespan.
In the same moment, I realized why Favian Grith had wanted the Skyhawk. The crime lord was in the pocket of the Dominion, or maybe the Dominion was in the pocket of Grith. Either way, it wasn’t the Skyhawk itself that Grith had wanted. He pretty much openly told me that he knew the princess had been on board, but he hadn’t been upset when I didn’t show up with her in tow. That meant that she would have been a nice bonus, but she still wasn’t the main reason he had wanted the smuggler’s ship.
It was all in the coordinates. I remembered that when we were on the bridge of the Skyhawk together, Grith had changed the coordinates on display several times, and I knew exactly what his goal had been. He’d been trying to see where the Skyhawk had been to recently.
The crime lord obviously knew that Leon had been running supplies to the ULA, and he must have figured that the smuggler had been to a bunch of different rebel sites. The Dominion would pay good money for that kind of information, and there was one very easy way to find out where all these different ULA sites were.
He just had to track the coordinates in the memory logs. Of course, Grith didn’t know that I had just delivered Orla to a top-secret ULA space station, but he had the coordinates for it now. And that meant that if I didn’t want to be a total asshole, I would probably have to warn the rebels that the location of the Napoleon wasn’t safe anymore.
“We could just let them die,” Honey Bee chimed. “After all, the fight between the Dominion and the ULA is not our war. If anything, it is better if they kill each other off so that--”
“No, it’s not our war,” I exhaled. “It’s definitely not.”
“And didn’t you swear you were done with wars and groups and institutions and all the rest of it?” my chip pressed.
“You mean after the Vespidae? Yeah, I guess I did,” I answered. “But look, I’m not picking sides, and I sure as shit ain’t signing my life away to either the government or the rebels.”
“But?” Honey Bee asked.
“But I don’t exactly want to be responsible for the deaths of a whole space station,” I said. “At least, not if they haven’t done anything to me.”
“I see,” Honey Bee laughed. “And besides, who else will you sell Lucky Number Seven to?”
“This isn’t just about the money,” I growled.
“Of course not,” my chip responded, “and we’re sure it also has nothing to do with a certain green-eyed princess.”
I had told Orla that she needed to wake up to the fact that the Dominion and the ULA were all the same, but I didn’t exactly want her to figure that out by being blown up. I leaned back in my pilot’s chair and listened to the calm chimes that Seven gave off every thirty seconds to indicate she was still on course.
“Goddammit,” I swore.
“You’re going to warn them when we get there,” Honey Bee said.
“It sure does seem that way,” I sighed. “Favian Fucking Grith. Just when I think I’m out, some asshole goes and and pulls me the fuck back in.”
“Bastards,” Honey Bee laughed.
“Fucking right,” I laughed, “but hey, at least we stole a bunch of ships, fucked a beautiful princess, and got paid. That’s fun and profitable.”
“You said ‘we,’” Honey Bee snickered.
“You and me, Honey Bee,” I laughed as I leaned back in my chair. “Fuck the Vespidae. There is only Trevor Onyx and his charming brain chip Honey Bee.”
“Of course,” Honey Bee chimed, but then her words echoed in my head for a few moments. “There is just us.”
End of book 1
End Notes
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Logan Jacobs