Ashore

by Isabelle Adler

  “It’s Val,” Tony said, confirming Matt’s worst fears. “We were having late lunch in the galley, all three of us, when Val got a message on his comm. I don’t know who it was, but you should’ve seen his face, Matt. On second thought, you shouldn’t have. Anyway, that was it, he just got up and ran out. Ryce tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. There’s no getting through to him when he’s in this mood, short of coldcocking him. Maybe that’s what he needed.” She tugged her braid and frowned. “But we were kinda afraid to. I bet he went after that Ander guy. All he was waiting for was to catch a whiff of him, and somebody must’ve tipped him off.”

  Matt swore succinctly and then shook his head. “You did what you could. Val’s a grown man, and if he chooses to go back on his word and play the fool, that’s on him.”

  It didn’t mean, of course, that Matt wouldn’t have to get Val’s sorry ass out of trouble, because grown man or not, he was still Matt’s responsibility. Matt’s own family might have turned their backs on him (or him on his family—depending on whom you asked), but he wasn’t about to do the same when it came to his crew.

  “He took his gun with him,” Tony said quietly.

  “Damn it, he promised he’d let me handle this.” Matt rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We have to find him, fast. Where’s Ryce?”

  “In the galley.”

  Tony followed him to the galley, where Ryce was busy cleaning up and putting away the dishes. If he was upset about the earlier confrontation with Val and the possibility of his friend running off to get himself killed by a dangerous criminal, he wasn’t showing it. Then again, Ryce was notoriously skilled at keeping his cool under pressure.

  “Good, you’re back,” he said as Matt came in, almost succeeding in making it sound nonaccusatory. “What’s the game plan?”

  It seemed they were all on the same wavelength, at least. That saved time on unnecessary preliminaries.

  “You and I are going after Val,” Matt told Ryce. “As it happens, I chanced to see the elusive Mr. Ander in the flesh not too long ago, so I have a pretty good idea where to start looking. Tony, you contact Station Security and tell them to get to Level 4 ASAP. I’ll let you know in case we end up in a different location.”

  “Are you sure you want to get security involved?” Tony asked, her expression troubled. “This means Val violated the terms of his release. If they catch him in the middle of a fight again, he’ll be arrested for real this time.”

  “I’d rather he be in jail than dead,” Matt said curtly.

  Of course, he would have preferred not to involve the authorities, but it seemed they needed all the help they could get. Val wasn’t the only one he had to think about—he was going to put Ryce and himself in danger as well, and he was going to stack the odds in their favor as much as possible, even if it meant Val would have to cool his heels in the brig for a while. Perhaps letting him simmer down in relative safety wasn’t such a horrible idea.

  “Fine,” Tony said, although she clearly wasn’t happy about it. “And meaning no disrespect, Captain, I still don’t understand why I’m to stay behind while you two go off on a rescue mission.”

  “You know you’re the first person I’d call on to back me up in a fight,” Matt said. “But this time, I need you to stay with the ship. If we get into trouble, as my first mate, you’re the one with the legal sway to get us out.”

  “Nice to know you consider me the responsible adult around here.”

  “One of us has to be, and it sure ain’t me. So, we’re okay?”

  He didn’t mention he also had his ship to think about. Unbeknownst to Tony, he’d made all the necessary arrangements for her to inherit Lady Lisa if anything happened to him. He had no doubt if that ever happened, she’d take good care of the others and his ship.

  “I guess,” Tony said grudgingly. “But call me if you need backup, you hear?”

  “I promise.” He meant it, too—by all accounts, Tony was much better than him when it came to handling a situation involving the use of firearms. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  “We better hurry, then,” Ryce said, gently nudging Matt toward the door.

  “Godspeed,” Tony called after them.

  “I SHOULD HAVE stopped him from going,” Ryce said as they hurried along the station corridor.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Matt said. “You have no idea how fucking stubborn Val can be sometimes.”

  “I think that can be said about all of us,” Ryce said quietly.

  Matt shot him a look, but now wasn’t the time to start questioning his partner’s meaning. They had to stay focused and not get distracted by their own uncertainties, so he tried to do that by bringing Ryce up to speed on everything he’d learned by talking to Tex and listening in on her conversation with Ander.

  “Not entirely sure what that exchange was about,” Matt told Ryce in a low voice as they got in an elevator. “But it seems like Griggs is short a pilot for whatever illegal operation he’s running. My money’s on speed races. Quality entertainment for folks with an adrenaline addiction and extra cash to burn.”

  He had never been foolish enough to enter those types of competitions himself, even when he’d been in a tight spot before purchasing Lady Lisa, but it was a way for many pilots who were down on their luck to make a quick cred—or die trying.

  “Griggs sure has his hand in a lot of pots,” Ryce observed.

  Matt grunted in agreement. He kept touching the gun in his hip holster. Matt hated having to carry, but there was no way he was going anywhere near Ander and possibly other armed criminals without a weapon. Ryce didn’t own a gun now that he’d been discharged, but Matt insisted he take one anyway. He didn’t have to ask Ryce whether he was a good shot—it was a given he was good at everything he did (barring cooking). It had annoyed Matt no end when he first met Ryce. Now, he realized he was going to miss being able to rely on Ryce’s assured competence once he was gone.

  They reached the little intersection on Level 4 where Matt had listened in on Tex and Ander’s conversation. It was the middle of the afternoon shift, and the corridors were almost completely empty. Their footsteps echoed a bit too loudly in the narrow space.

  Matt halted at the crossroads, trying to decide which way to go. His knowledge of the station was sufficient for his needs, but by no means extensive. While the basic layout was the same on all Freeports, the unofficial subdivision of private civilian and public areas was unique to each one.

  “Let’s try this way,” he said finally, gesturing toward the corridor on his left. As far as he knew, this one led out of the accommodation area into this level’s storage space.

  Ryce nodded, and they hurried in that direction, keeping an eye out for any turns or openings that could pose a threat of an ambush. But they didn’t encounter anybody, not even maintenance robots scurrying about.

  The oppressing silence kept them both from speaking aloud. At length, they reached the entrance to the storage area—a small atrium leading to four corridors lined with doors marked as warehouses. These were designated for the private use of guests rather than the station’s logistics. Again, the atrium was empty, with nothing that would indicate a recent struggle or disturbance.

  “Now what?” Matt said, wincing at how loud his voice sounded. He glanced around nervously, but thankfully no one was around to question what they were doing there.

  Ryce approached a large touch screen on one of the walls and tapped it. The screen lit up, displaying a map of the warehouses and their current status.

  “If they’re here somewhere, we should be looking for an occupied unit,” Ryce said. “One that would have been accessed recently.”

  He went over the charts, noting three occupied units that had been opened in the last twelve hours.

  “We can’t get the ownership records without a security code,” Matt said. “How do we narrow it down?”

  “All three are on the larger side,” Ryce said, studying the map. “But this o
ne is located right at the end of the corridor, with an empty unit flanking it. If I had to pick, it would be this one. It offers more privacy than the rest.”

  “Let’s test it, then,” Matt said, taking his gun out of the holster and striding purposefully down the corridor.

  The idea of going into a warehouse which could potentially prove to be a den of criminal activity, or worse, a makeshift prison cell, made his skin crawl. He remembered all too well waking up not once, but twice in an empty storage locker after taking a beating. The thing he remembered with a lot less detail—but nonetheless featured prominently in his nightmares—was being surrounded by jeering men in a torture chamber on a pirate ship. He dreaded walking into a similar scene, this time with Val playing the role of the helpless, bound victim.

  But this was precisely why he couldn’t turn back now. No one had come to his rescue when he’d needed it, but now he could be there for Val. Matt swallowed around the dryness in his throat and tightened his grip on the gun. Ryce walked right beside him, and Matt allowed himself to take momentary comfort in his quiet, strong presence. At least he wouldn’t have to walk in there alone.

  “I’ll let Tony know where we are,” he said once they were standing outside the warehouse door. A green light on the control panel indicated it was in use, but not a sound traveled through the thick door.

  “We’re in the Level 4 storage area,” he told Tony as soon as her face appeared on his comm screen. “Tell the security folks to meet us here.”

  “I don’t think they’ll be coming,” Tony said grimly. “I’ve called them, and they said they couldn’t send in a team based on someone’s hunch, without a report of an actual disturbance. You’re on your own unless you want me to come give you a hand.”

  “Fucking assholes,” Matt muttered. He didn’t know what Station Security’s deal was, but it seemed they really were on their own. “You stay put for now, Tony. If I don’t contact you in an hour, call those asses again and report a disturbance, ’cause I can guarantee there will be one.”

  He disconnected and slipped the commlink back into his pocket. There was no more stalling; it was now or never.

  “Open it,” he told Ryce, gesturing toward the control panel with his gun.

  “What makes you think I can do that?”

  “Please. You’ve opened an alien bunker which had been sealed for thousands of years; I think you can pick a simple storage locker.”

  Ryce huffed with annoyance mixed with amusement, but went over to the control panel and examined it.

  “Despite what you may think, breaking and entering is not one of my areas of expertise,” he said. “But I can try.”

  He reached toward the panel, but before he could touch the tiny screen, the door slid open, seemingly of its own accord.

  The first thing Matt saw were the barrels of several plasma rifles pointed their way, and he instinctively moved to shield Ryce from the line of fire. He felt the other man tense behind him, but no shots came.

  “Drop your weapons and get in—now,” Tex said dryly. She stood in front of them with her hands on her hips, surrounded by four armed men. The warehouse, from what Matt could see, was even larger than he originally thought, and surprisingly brightly lit. Several crates were piled in the middle of the room, creating a sort of partition between the entrance and whatever was going on behind them. Matt thought he heard sounds of a scuffle coming from beyond the crates at Tex’s words, and his heart rate switched into an even higher gear, though that should not have been possible at all.

  He resisted the urge to call out for Val and bent slowly to put his gun on the floor. Ryce, who stepped up next to him, followed suit.

  “Get in,” Tex repeated, none too patiently, and they complied. The door slid shut behind them, cutting off all outside sound. One of the men went over to pick up their discarded weapons.

  “Station Security are on their way here right now,” Ryce said before anyone else could utter a word. “If you assault us, you will be arrested.”

  “We have time,” Tex said, unfazed. “I figure you two are here for this jackass?”

  She nodded toward the pile of crates. Matt eyed the armed henchmen cautiously, but nobody was firing at them yet, so he risked turning his back on them and walked to the back of the storage unit.

  His hunch proved correct. Val was there, strapped to a metal chair with his hands tied behind his back and a piece of tape plastered over his mouth. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his cropped hair was matted with blood on the left side of his head, but he was definitely conscious, glaring defiantly at his captors. Seeing Matt, he jerked in his chair toward him, but that only earned him a hard slap from one of the men holding him down.

  Matt gritted his teeth and held back everything he wanted to say about the situation. Tex seemed to be the one in charge, and Eddie Ander was conspicuously absent. Either way, they were all in a pickle, especially if the security folks were going to take their sweet time coming.

  “You should get a tighter rein over your men, Spears,” Tex said, coming up to them from behind. Ryce gave her the eye, but even he couldn’t possibly argue with the sentiment. “I’ve warned you to leave Ander the fuck alone.”

  “I don’t see him anywhere, so I doubt he’s in any danger,” Matt said, turning to face her. He had to somehow talk their (and especially Val’s) way out of this. They were still alive, so that, at least, was a sign Tex could be reasoned with.

  “All this”—he gestured toward Val’s chair, trying to ignore his crewman’s condition—“is a personal matter that can be resolved. As I recall, you’d made me a mutually beneficial proposal. Do we really want to let one unfortunate mishap affect our business? We’re all adults here. I’m sure we can all agree to keep our emotions, justified as they may be, in check for our benefit. So, why don’t you let us go, and I promise Mr. Sokolov here won’t make any more trouble for any of you, so we can go back to discussing our deal?”

  He did his best to sound as calm and nonchalant as possible. No amount of fake charm would help him here, but letting panic show would be even worse.

  “Yes, business,” Tex said with a little smirk as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I believe now may be a good time to negotiate slightly different terms for our deal.”

  “How about a trade?” Ryce said, stepping forward.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “IMA shipments aside, there might be something else we could help you with. You need a pilot for your races, don’t you?”

  Matt bit his lip not to show his surprise. Where exactly was Ryce going with this? And where were those security guys?

  “Good guess,” Tex said, unperturbed by Ryce’s knowledge. “You’re making it a little difficult for me to let you walk out of here, kid, but go on.”

  “You’re in need of a skilled pilot,” Ryce continued. “Well, I’m an ex-combat pilot. A good one, too, if I do say so myself. I’ll fly for you if you will release Mr. Sokolov.”

  Matt rounded up on him so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, but Ryce only raised his hand to silence him. He leveled his gaze at Tex, not meeting Matt’s eyes.

  “That’s ballsy of you,” Tex said finally. She gave Ryce a once-over, as if appraising his worth, her gaze lingering on his top-notch flight adapters. “You sure you’re up to it? We’re talking about a high-speed race over rough terrain, down planetside. Any kind of aircraft—aerojets, strike fighters, even upgraded pods. Ain’t no rules, except you follow the course and come in first place. The prize is twenty thousand credits, cash. If you win, Griggs might even let you keep it.”

  “You want me to win a race without a trial run?” Ryce asked while Matt was still struggling to process the possibility of Ryce actually participating and the amount of money involved.

  “Hell, yes,” Tex said, showing signs of annoyance for the first time during the conversation. “No point in you entering otherwise, is there? Griggs’s not the only one with stakes in this game. High stake
s.”

  “It would be nearly impossible for someone to win on the first try, no matter how skilled they are,” Matt argued. “You don’t need a pilot, you need a miracle.”

  “Then you better hope your mate is a wizard,” Tex retorted.

  “Is Griggs the organizer, or is he only playing the ponies?” Matt asked suspiciously. Griggs sounded like the sort of fellow to be on the moneymaking side, not the side that was bound to be picked clean by the house. This was his backyard, after all; the station had virtual control of the planet, even if it was uninhabited. And if Griggs was the one running the show, there was no reason for him to have a stake of his own in it, since he’d be getting a cut from both the racers’ entrance fees and the bets.

  “It’s none of your business,” Tex said. Seeing Matt’s expression, she deigned to clarify: “He’s not the only organizer. A lot of powerful people are involved, and he wants to have all his bases covered.”

  “So he scams his partners by using a proxy to rig the odds?”

  “All you need to do is win,” Tex said impatiently. “What’s going on behind the scenes is hardly your concern.”

  “I don’t have a suitable aircraft available,” Ryce said, cutting through their exchange. “The ship’s shuttle isn’t fast enough to compete with aerojets.”

  “We could provide you with one,” Tex said. “But if you crash it, that’s on Mr. Sokolov. Not that you’d care either way when you’re smeared over a canyon wall, kid, but your friend might.”

  Matt took a deep breath before letting Tex know exactly what he thought about that, but Ryce beat him to it—just not in a way Matt would have liked.

  “Fine,” he said. “Do we have a deal?”

  “How about this. If you’re not shitting me about being a combat pilot, I’ll let you fly. You win, we let this troublemaker run right back to Mommy Spears. You lose—and he might go ‘missing.’ Considering all the shit he pulled lately, no one will think twice about it. Same goes if you try to breathe any of this to Station Security, not that they’re of much help to you anyway. Now, you go back to your ship, all nice and quiet, and we’ll let you know when the next race is set up.”