“Mavrik’s back. And looking for revenge,” Squatter said. “I could set up a head-to-head if you’re interested. There should be some heavy action with your history.”
“I’ll race anybody, any time, you know that,” Kim said.
“Good, I was hoping you’d sign on.”
He walked away, and Kim looked back out the large windows. The canyons were beautiful in a way, but all Kim saw were the dangers. Deep, narrow channels that funnel winds that made flying difficult under normal conditions. Racing through the canyons took nerve, skill, and a healthy dose of luck. Kim had the skill, and nothing could keep her from flying, but she knew that sooner or later her luck would run out. One bad crash would be enough to cripple her for life, or worse yet, kill her. Still, she would rather die flying than live a long life but never leave the ground.
The footsteps approaching were unmistakable. Kim felt her skin begin to crawl even before she heard the deep, gravelly voice or smelled Ray Gan’s perpetually sour odor.
“Hello, Kimberly,” the fat tavern owner said. “It’s good to see you.”
“My name is Kim, not Kimberly.”
“Why do you despise being a woman?” Ray Gan asked. “A girl as lovely as you could make a good life for herself.”
She had expected the fat man to make his pitch. He did every time she went into his tavern, and each time she rejected him. It was familiar, but not welcome. Kim wished the dirty, smelly man would go away and leave her alone, but if she wanted to fly in the canyon races, she couldn’t insult him.
“You know, I think you’re good enough to fly for the Imperium Fleet,” he said.
“I know I am,” Kim said, feeling unnerved.
Joining the Fleet Academy was her dream. She wanted nothing more than to leave Torrent Four and spend her life flying fast attack craft for the Imperium Fleet. She wasn’t a patriot, and could care less about politics. All she wanted was to fly.
“I have some contacts,” Ray Gan said. “You know, I might be willing to put your name forward for consideration. Maybe even pay for your entrance exams.”
“Yeah, and what would I have to do for you?” Kim asked.
“Is it too much to ask that you show a little appreciation?”
“You mean be your lover?” Kim whirled around to face the fat tavern owner. He had a huge stomach and fat rolls around his neck. His thin hair was greasy, his teeth were coated in something that Kim didn’t recognize, and his small, piggish eyes ran up and down as he stared at her.
“There is a lot to be gained, Kimberly. I ask for so little in return.”
“No,” Kim said. “I’ll get to the Fleet my own way.”
“Perhaps,” Ray Gan said. “If you don’t end up dead in the canyons first.”
She turned away as tears suddenly flooded her eyes. The futility of her life galled her. She was young, talented, ambitious, and hardworking. But she didn’t have the connections, or the money, to be considered for the flight academy. Even so, she would never give herself to Ray Gan or anyone else for a chance to chase her dreams. If that was the cost, it was too high and Kim refused to pay it.
“Well, if you change your mind, sweetheart. Just come find me,” Ray Gan said as he heaved himself back onto his feet. “My door is always open to you.”
Kim raised her hand to acknowledge the offer but knew she would never accept it. A horn sounded, signaling another race. Behind her the patrons grew rowdy. They were watching the high-resolution hologram displays that showed the views from the race cameras mounted onto each pilot’s kite.
Kim watched through the windows as a second horn blasted away, signaling the start of the race. Five pilots leaped from a platform over the tavern and dropped into the canyon. The kits were large gliders, built from aluminum with silk sails stretched between the frame to catch the wind. The pilots hung beneath the kits, some fifteen to twenty feet below the gliders. Kim watched as the air currents in the canyons propelled the fliers away and out of sight.
Somewhere, Squatter was taking bets on the race, holding markers and wads of credit slips. Kim felt as if she might be sick. The odds were against the pilots. If they didn’t get injured, or wreck their kites, they only made money if they won the race. Sometimes the fliers got desperate, and that often led to bad choices with deadly consequences.
Chapter 4
Ben felt vulnerable out of the scrapyards, but he needed one final part to complete his work on the Kestrel class transport ship. And while he might be able to find it eventually among the scraps of old wrecks, it would be much quicker to trade for the part in the Boneyard.
Like most planets, Torrent Four had a variety of industries. Survival was the highest priority on the junk world, and while some found security in gangs like the Salvage Scalpers, others made a living trading goods. Ben carried three working emergency water filters, each with a rechargeable battery. Any of the devices was worth more than a magnetic coupler, but Ben wasn’t taking any chances.
The Boneyard was a trading post, nothing more than an open area on a cracked and crumbling paved lot. The regulars had built a few booths to protect their goods and keep the weather off them. Others spread their modest hauls out onto blankets or just set them on the ground. Some were selling refurbished gear, but others sold weapons, food seasoning, drugs, and even a few children. Slavery was a fact of life on Torrent Four. Parents often couldn’t feed themselves and their children. It wasn’t unusual to see a poor couple selling their children in hopes of a better life.
Ben didn’t need weapons, and he only used medicinal drugs sparingly. What he needed was gear, and he had a good reputation with the more established traders as someone who could bring them working tech that they, in turn, could sell for a profit. Ben was halfway across the Boneyard, headed for his favorite merchant, an older man named Victor, when a group of Scalpers blocked his path.
“Look who it is,” said one of the gang members. Ben couldn’t tell if the speaker was male or female. They had half their head shaved and wore a thick overcoat.
“Yeah, we know you,” said another, a gruff man with a thick beard. “Seen you around the salvage yard, we have.”
“I’m here to see Victor,” Ben said. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“There’s always trouble,” said the half-bald Scalper. “And this is our market. You haven’t paid an entry fee.”
“Or a trading fee,” the bearded man added.
Ben held up his hands as his heart beat wildly in his chest. “I don’t have anything but a few trade items.”
“You’ve got gear you stole from our salvage yard,” said the bearded man.
“Word gets around,” said the balding gang member. “You’re the one they call Ben. It’s time you put in some effort for the common good.”
“No,” Ben said. “I keep to myself. Now, please, let me pass.”
“He’s got spirit, I’ll give him that,” the half-bald gang member said.
“But not much in the way of brains,” said the bearded man. “Take him. Let’s see what he’s carrying.”
Ben turned to run, but he only made it a few steps before one of the gang members kicked his leg. It flew back into his other foot and he fell. His body jarred against the pavement, the skin on his hands scuffed painfully.
The gang members were laughing as one put a dirty boot on the back of Ben’s head, pinning his face to the ground. Another pulled at the tail of his jacket and began to search him. The water filters were tucked into the interior pockets of the jacket, and he also carried several tools in the wide cargo pouches of his pants.
“Stop!” Ben shouted angrily. “I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s the problem,” the bearded man snarled. “You ain’t contributing. That’s an oversight we aim to correct.”
Ben was looking up at the bearded man when another man stepped up and hit the gang member hard with the palm of his hand, driving it straight into the face of the unsuspecting gang member who was knocked off his feet.
The pressure on Ben’s neck ended abruptly as the person with the half-shaved head charged at the newcomer.
The stranger spun quickly and snapped out a kick that took the balding Scalper off her feet. She landed hard on the ground, and Ben saw that she was female. In her hand was a small blade of some kind. Rolling to his knees Ben saw the stranger dodge away from another gang member who was swinging a metal pipe. A fourth member of the Scalpers caught the stranger from behind and attempted to hold him while the man with a pipe moved in.
Ben grabbed the blade from the half-bald woman and dove toward the man with the pipe. He managed to stab the man in the thigh, then roll away. The man with the pipe screamed and dropped his weapon. Blood flowed down his leg as the man tried to pull the weapon free.
The stranger didn’t seem concerned about the man holding him. He just leaned forward, then threw his head back. The collision of the back of the stranger’s head into the gang member’s nose shattered bone and teeth. His lips split open, and blood gushed from his ruined nose. The stranger bent suddenly at the waist and flung the man over his back. The gang member flew into his companion with the ruined legs and both fell to the ground.
Ben was on his feet finally, and he hurried to the stranger’s side. The Scalpers were all on the ground, and Ben realized that everyone else in the Boneyard was watching. He grabbed the stranger’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ben said.
They both hurried away from the scene of the fight and took refuge behind a small junk pile on the side of the road. Ben looked at his hands. They were red and raw in places. His hip hurt, as did his neck, but he wasn’t injured.
“You okay?” Ben asked the stranger, who was tall and had broad shoulders.
The stranger nodded, wiping at the blood on the back of his head.
“I’m Ben.”
“Magnum,” the stranger said in a raspy voice.
“Thanks for your help. I don’t know why the Scalpers were after me.”
Magnum shrugged his shoulders. Ben couldn’t tell if the gesture meant that helping him was no big deal, or if his new friend simply didn’t know what the gang of Salvage Scalpers were up to.
Ben moved over to watch the road. It took a while, but eventually the bloodied gang moved away from the Boneyard. They seemed more than happy to just get away, with no intention of looking for Ben or Magnum. Watching them head the opposite direction from where Ben and Magnum were hiding caused the young engineer to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Looks like they’re leaving,” he said as he turned back to Magnum. “Let’s give them a few minutes before going back.”
The big man nodded. He had short hair, stubble on his jaw, and the skin under his eyes was dark as if he hadn’t slept well. His clothes were dirty, which wasn’t unusual, but also in need of mending. Clothes, like everything else on Torrent Four, were hard to come by, and most people cared for them diligently. Magnum had dark grease stains on his hands and around his fingernails.
“You work on things?” Ben asked. “Repairs and such?”
“Weapons,” Magnum said.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. It was obviously pieced together from several weapons, but it was clean. For a moment Ben thought Magnum was going to point it at him, but instead he held it the flat of his hands as if displaying the weapon.
“Wow, you did that?” Ben asked. “You built it?”
Magnum nodded.
“May I hold it?”
Magnum nodded again and Ben picked the gun up. It was heavy, but it felt good as he wrapped his fingers around the handle. He was careful not to point it near Magnum and kept his finger off the trigger. Ben had often thought he should get a gun, but weapons were rare in the salvage yard. And while he felt certain he could tinker with one and get it working, it seemed Magnum was an expert.
Ben handed the gun back to the bigger man.
“It’s a beauty,” he said.
Magnum nodded, and a smile creased his wide face.
“Let’s head back to the Boneyard,” Ben said.
He got slowly to his feet and Magnum stayed with him as they walked back. The market seemed unfazed by the violence and while it seemed a bit odd that Magnum stayed close to Ben, the smaller man didn’t really mind. He felt safer with the big fighter close by.
At Victor’s booth, the merchant smiled at Ben.
“Your friend saved your bacon,” he said with a chuckle.
“Tell me about it,” Ben said. “Victor, this is Magnum. He’s a gunsmith.”
“Hello, Magnum. It’s nice to meet you,” the merchant said. “What are you looking for, Ben?”
“A magnetic coupler.”
“Oh, yes, very nice. I don’t have one, but I hear Augustus does. I suppose you’re trading?”
“Sure,” Ben said.
“What have you got?”
Nick pulled one of the water filters from his coat pocket and handed it to Victor.
“Well, this is really nice,” Victor said. “Does the battery work?”
“It’s not new, but it’s fully charged.”
“I could take it off your hands,” Victor said. “Give you a stack of protein bricks.”
“Maybe,” Ben said. “I’ve got a couple more on me, but I’ve got to make the trade for the coupler.”
“Good luck. You know Augustus is a tightfisted bastard.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Ben started to turn away, but Magnum put a hand on his arm, then pointed at the stack of protein bricks.
“Hungry,” he said.
“Looks like your friend wants to make a deal,” Victor said.
“Show him your gun,” Ben said. “Victor will give you a fair price.”
Magnum shook his head. He reached into his jacket, which was ripped at the shoulders and looked too small on the big man. He pulled out the gun and held it out to Ben, butt first.
“What? I can’t take your gun.”
Magnum nodded, and there was a pleading looking in his eyes.
“I guess we could trade,” Ben said.
Magnum smiled and pointed to the stack of protein bricks.
“You want the food, eh?” Victor said. “Let me see the gun.”
“Wait a second,” Ben said. “Magnum, have you got someplace to go? A family? Friends?”
The big man looked down at the ground. Ben had never considered himself to be a people person, but it seemed clear enough that Magnum was embarrassed.
“Keep your gun,” Ben said, handing it back to him before turning to Victor with the emergency water filter. “We’ll take the protein.”
“You sure?”
Ben glanced at his new friend. “Positive.”
Chapter 5
Ben had heard of people eating raw protein in extreme cases. Magnum wasn’t a big communicator, but it was obvious that he was hungry. The big man ripped open the first protein brick and bit off a chunk of the dense food base.
“Been a while since you’ve had a meal, I guess,” Ben said. “You can keep that protein. I’ve got more, and really, you saved my skin. It’s the least I can do.”
Magnum nodded, his mouth full of the dry, unseasoned protein. They walked over to another booth. The merchant sitting inside was ancient. His eyes were open but didn’t seem to move even as the pair of customers approached. He sat perfectly still. Ben couldn’t tell if he was breathing.
“Augustus,” Ben said tentatively.
“You were almost slagged by those gangbangers,” the old merchant said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t give half a credit for your chances with the Scalpers.”
“Thanks for your help,” Ben said sarcastically.
“You don’t live as long as I have by sticking your nose into other people’s business.”
“Speaking of business, do you have a magnetic coupler?” Ben asked.
“Who’s your friend? He saved your life, that’s for certain.”
“This is Magnum. Do you have the coupler or do I n
eed to look elsewhere?”
“What do you have for trade?” Augustus asked.
“Emergency water filters.”
“Ultraviolet or heat?”
“Both,” Ben said, trying not to smile.
Negotiation, Ben had learned, was a tricky art to master. He had learned to read the person he was bartering with more than the items being traded. There was no subjective scale of value, only what a person was willing to part with. Augustus needed to feel like he was getting the better end of any deal he was involved with. A fair trade didn’t interest him in the least. Ben knew the water filters were good trade items. Clean water was scarce on Torrent Four, which made travel difficult. The merchants in the Boneyard could always trade a water filter, especially a powered filter with a working battery.
“It’s no good to me without a battery,” Augustus said.
“You probably have more batteries than anyone in the district,” Ben replied.
“That may be, but I have a purpose for every one of them. I’ve got a magnetic coupler. It’s in good shape too. But you’ll need to bring me more than scrap if you want to trade.”
“My filter works,” Ben said.
“Not without a battery.”
“It has a battery,” Ben said, pulling the water filter from his pocket. “Fully charged.”
Augustus’s face twitched slightly. It was the only sign of emotion on the old merchant. Ben suppressed his own smile. He had the older man’s interest, but they were still a long way from having a deal. Augustus obviously wanted the water filter, but he wouldn’t settle for an even trade. He always wanted more.
“So you say,” Augustus said.
“Try it out,” Ben replied. “I’m in no hurry. I’m sure Magnum could use a drink.”
The big man grunted, his mouth still full of the protein he was eating. Augustus took the filter. It was the first movement he had made. He gave the small filter a quick visual inspection, then powered it on to check the battery power. Everything worked and Ben suppressed another smile. He could see the desire in the merchant’s eyes. A powered emergency filter was highly sought after, especially with a battery. Ben still had half a dozen of them back in the Echo, but he was willing to part with the three he had in order to get a working magnetic coupler.
Kestrel Class (Kestrel Class Saga Book 1) Page 2