“If it’s gonna be too tough for you—” says Kenny with a shrug.
Antonio scowls. “I didn’t say that, did I? I said it would be tricky, not impossible.” He looks from Kenny to me. The old bastard may be the best smuggler in the galaxy like Kenny says, but he has all the charm of a Dorani pit viper. “Bellissima’s docked in bay forty-seven at the outer port. Gina’s there, she’ll show you to the guest room.”
Kenny breathes a small sigh of relief and closes his eyes, scrubbing his fingers through his hair.
“I got shit to take care of,” says Antonio as he gets to his feet. “I’m scheduled to leave at midnight if the bastard GSF inspectors are on time. If you and your friend aren’t there, I’m not waiting.”
I watch him leave the bar then look back at Kenny.
“Great guy.”
Kenny chuckles. “If you like him, you’ll love my sister.”
It takes us over an hour to reach the outer port. Lachra is a nightmare of narrow, congested streets and the addition of GSF patrols only makes the chaos more chaotic. Bay forty-seven is on the eastern edge.
A woman greets us as we enter the bay. She’s tall with waist length blonde hair. She wears a denim shirt tucked into dark blue cargo pants and black knee-high, commando boots. She eyes Kenny with suspicious amusement. “You know you look like shit?”
“Gee, thanks, Gina, I love you too,” says Kenny. “Dad tells us the guest room is free?”
“It might be.” Her blue eyes shift to me. “Who’s he? Another one of your charity cases?”
“Gage Brassan, my sister, Gina. Can we go in now? I’m feeling a little exposed standing around out here.”
I feel like I’m being undressed mentally as her eyes flit over me. She’s a beautiful woman and I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through all that hair.
She smiles, as though reading my mind. “Nice to meet you, Gage Brassan.” She looks back at Kenny. “What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into this time?”
“The kind I’d rather not discuss out here,” snaps Kenny.
“Relax, Ken. The inspectors aren’t due for half an hour yet.”
“Why do you and dad insist on making my life difficult? Can’t you do something the first time I ask?”
She chuckles. “And fly in the face of twenty-five years of tradition?”
Kenny closes his eyes, and I can almost hear him counting to a hundred.
Gina rolls her eyes. “Jesus, what happened to your sense of humor?” She turns to walk back up the gangway. “Come on, the guest room is this way.”
We follow her into the ship and she leads us down the main corridor toward the stairs leading to the bridge. She ducks behind them and runs her hand along one of the panels that make up the back wall. It slides up to reveal a secret compartment hidden behind the forward bulkhead.
“Make yourselves at home.”
Kenny motions me forward. Once we’re inside the panel slides shut.
“So, this is the guest room?” I ask as Kenny cracks a glow stick and leads me through the maze of boxes toward the back of the narrow compartment.
“Yeah.”
“What’s in the crates?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Could be guns. Could be booze. Knowing my dad, it could be just about anything.”
“We’re safe in here?”
“Safe enough. Once the panel closes, the GSF will never find it unless they know exactly where to look.”
He clears some space by shoving a few of the crates to one side. “Have a seat, Cap.”
I join him on the floor, leaning my head back against the bulkhead. The knot of tension in my gut unravels a little as I realize we’re almost free.
“So, now what?” asks Kenny.
“Corin Raas knew we were coming. Someone in Delta Six clued her in and she ran. I don’t want to think it, but nobody else knew about our mission. Morrison told me it was Classified.”
“Well, if it was someone in Delta Six, they’re already dead.” He smiles faintly. “Unless it was you.”
“Real funny. What about your militia?”
“Possible, I guess, but they didn’t know they’d been included until the last minute.”
“Yeah. No time for one of them to have warned her. Why do you suppose the Androsians suddenly decided to blow us all to shit? Somebody had to give them the order to fire on us; they wouldn’t do it just because. Colonel Morrison maybe?”
Kenny snorts. “I doubt it. He likes to pretend he’s a big shot, but he doesn’t have that kind of authority, the Androsians would laugh in his face. Andrew Lansing?”
“The Commanding General of the Gold Bands?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would he give an order like that? Why would anyone give an order like that?”
Kenny shrugs. “I guess you’ll have to ask him.”
I guess.
We fall silent, listening to the sounds coming from the other side of the bulkhead. Voices and the thump of booted feet. I close my eyes, resting my forehead against my knees, barely breathing. As safe as Kenny tells me we are, I can’t help but remember there’s only a single metal wall between us and disaster.
After a while the voices move away and the floor trembles as the engines engage. I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel the ship leave the bay.
“You’re gonna need a job while you figure out how to get close to Lansing,” says Kenny at last.
I open my eyes. “A job?”
“Yeah. You know. Work? I’m pretty sure the whole ‘soldier’ thing is a wash now, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Any preferences?”
“Not really. Why? What did you have in mind?”
He shrugs. “My dad knows a lot of people. Sometimes these people want certain things done. Certain obstacles eliminated.” He looks at me. “For a price of course.”
Of course.
◆◆◆
Joanna was finally granted permission to access the Arcturon’s database and I waited, moody and silent, for her to recreate me. I had no idea how long it would take or what risks were involved. For all I knew, her tampering could make my situation worse. She could get caught. I could get caught. All my planning and scheming could be shot all to shit, and I could be on the next transport back to the Dorani Sector and the Blackgate. Alden Healy would love that.
I pretty much stayed to my room, immersing myself in thoughts of vengeance and death. Now that I was close I was afraid Lansing would escape me somehow. That something would go wrong and I’d be denied my retribution. I entertained myself by imagining what I’d say to him when the time came. What his response would be. I pictured the look on his face as I killed him.
A soft knock on the bedroom door shook me out of my dark daydream. My hand instinctively reached under the pillow for my laser.
“Can I come in?” asked Joanna from outside. I sat up, forcing myself to relax.
“Sure.”
“Did I wake you?” She brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
“No.”
She handed me a bag and an envelope. “These are for you.”
I opened the bag. A GSF uniform, complete with blaster. I looked at her and she shrugged, blushing with embarrassment. “You’ll need them to get into the building. Congratulations, you’re a new man.”
A strange mix of guilt, relief, and gratitude warred within me. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’m assuming you’ll want to talk to Director Lansing in private, yes?”
I nodded.
“Where did you plan on having this conversation?”
“His office will be fine.”
She hesitated. “I think I have a better idea. He’s been called to a meeting at the Main GF headquarters on Earth, it’s all over the building. The Androsians have commissioned a memorial to commemorate the end the of their civil war. They want to acknowledge the Terran/GSF aid they received during their struggle, an
d part of that involves the construction of a monument to the Ansaala refugees and Delta Six. It’s almost complete, and Director Lansing is supposed to appear before a joint session of the General Assembly and the Security Council at the end of next week so they can discuss the dedication ceremony.”
I thought about Gina and the cargo of guns she’d traded for me. Kenny had said they’d been destined for the rebels on Andros Prime. That civil war didn’t sound like it was anywhere close to being over, the Androsians must be delusionaly optimistic.
I shook my head in disbelief, my disgust spilling into my voice. “So, let’s see if I’ve got the sequence of events right. They execute us, cover it up, lie about it, and then decide to honor us? What the fuck is that?”
Joanna didn’t reply, but her expression told me she still had doubts about my version of events. I guess I couldn’t blame her, if I hadn’t been there I wouldn’t have believed it either.
“I hope you can you pilot a shuttle,” she said.
“I can, yeah.”
“Good, because when I recreated you I gave you flight clearance. Your name is Donald Martino and you’re a Level One Flight Op. Your orders and entry pass are in there,” she nodded to the envelope. “You’ll replace Captain Darcy, he’s Director Lansing’s usual pilot.”
“How do I do that without raising suspicion?”
Joanna shrugged. “Sometimes unexpected things happen and last minute changes in personnel have to be made.”
“What unexpected affliction will keep Captain Darcy from his duty?”
“Apparently he’s been exposed to an especially vicious strain of Lyrian TB. The kind that requires six to eight weeks of quarantine.”
Sucks to be him.
I dropped the envelope into the bag along with the uniform.
“So. What happens after?” she asked. “Do you plan on telling me what Lansing says?”
“Maybe. Someday. For now, your part in this is done.”
Her jaw almost hit the floor. “No, it’s not done. It’s not anywhere near done! Danny was my brother. My mom and dad died believing he was killed by the enemy. If he wasn’t...if they lied to us, like you say, I want to know why.” She looked at me, stubborn defiance in her eyes. “I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get you into that building. I could lose my job. Find myself under arrest.”
“I threatened to kill you, remember? You helped me under duress.” I closed my eyes for a moment. How could I explain it? I thought the whole getting me in would be easier than this, I hadn’t realized it would turn into such a big fucking production. I’d been so obsessed with getting my own answers it hadn’t occurred to me that maybe she might need answers too.
Yeah, I know. Stupid and short-sighted. So, sue me.
“You’ve done enough. More than enough. When it’s all over I’ll find a way to get the truth to you, in the meantime get back to your life. It’s safer for you that way.”
“Get back to my life? How am I supposed to do that now?” She wiped angry tears from her eyes. “Danny killed by rebels was something I hated, but at least it was something I understood. Danny killed by our allies? What am I supposed to do with that? God! You come here—disrupt my life—tell me all this shit. Threaten me. And then expect me to let it go?” She turned away from me. “Well fuck you too, Gage Brassan!”
She left, slamming the door behind her.
So. I certainly handled that well.
I closed my eyes, trying to still my turbulent thoughts. I had to be the undisputed king of all shit disturbers.
I lay in the dark, thinking about the insanity that had ruled my life since that night in the jungle. Following the thread of blood and death backward. Counting the bodies in my mind. God knows, there were enough of them. I remembered the name and face of everyone I’d killed.
My first hit, a business associate of Antonio Briani who refused to share his portion of the spoils.
The rich old man on Soldia Seven, whose daughters wanted his money before he was ready to give it to them.
The judge on the Norbrand Space Station who insisted on prosecuting the drug runners from the Ilion Sector.
The Duchess of Llar on Sorellis Nine, whose much younger husband wanted to avoid a divorce so he could inherit her fortune.
One by one, they paraded through my mind. Until I came to the end. And Gina.
The woman I’d met in that docking bay six years ago was a long way from the woman I’d killed on Jaraslad. The old Gina had been volatile and passionate, she’d even been ambitious and self-involved, but she’d absolutely known where her loyalties lay. What had that Lyrian drug lord offered her to make her sell out her own? I knew from experience that everyone had their price—what had been hers?
Killing had become my business. I’d reduced the value of life to a very specific amount, and it seemed no matter how high it went there was always someone willing to pay it. My reputation had grown with the body count and I’d lost sight of the reason I’d chosen this road in the first place.
Trust Kenny to be the one to remind me.
◆◆◆
The Arcturon looked even more imposing up close.
I kept my gait steady as I entered the building. In the GSF flight suit Joanna acquired for me I looked like any other officer reporting for duty. I stopped in front of the trooper manning the desk in the lobby.
“Your pass, please, sir?”
I handed it to him and he slid it through a slot on his console. An image of me appeared on his data screen with the name Donald Martino underneath it. A digital timestamp appeared next to the control number on the card and he passed it back to me.
“Welcome to the Arcturon, Lieutenant. May I see your bag, please?”
I lifted it onto the counter and he zipped it open, riffling through it quickly but thoroughly. I surrendered my weapon and held my breath as I passed through the gate, waiting for the alarm to go off. The one that would prove that, once again, I’d been screwed over by a beautiful woman.
The light flashed from white to green—no bells or whistles. No sirens.
I breathed a small sigh of relief as the trooper returned my weapon. I reholstered it then recovered my bag and headed for the elevator.
I was in.
The doors slid open at my approach and I stepped inside, inserting my pass into the slot alongside the floor indicators.
“Martino, Donald. Lieutenant,” said a mechanical voice. “Main Hangar, Level Fifty-One.”
The elevator began to ascend and my mind settled into the icy calm I approached every hit with. Andrew Lansing wouldn’t escape me this time. This time he was mine.
The main hangar was the only structure that extended beyond Lunar City’s domed ceiling. An energized force field kept the vacuum of space at bay, and two dozen shuttles and six or seven fighters were involved in the various stages of docking and refueling as I stepped from the elevator. Flight ops and engineers in gray coveralls were everywhere, and the room echoed with the low rumble of thrusters. Blue and red lights blinked and flashed along half a dozen small runways extending outward from the main hangar, similar to the flight decks I’d seen on battle cruisers. The main control center took up four, blast proof, glass encased stories at the rear of the hangar. From their consoles on the top floor, the controllers could view and direct every ship toward its designated landing platform or departure bay. It was organized chaos in its purist form.
I made my way through the maze of ships toward the metal stairs leading to the control center. I paused at the door, snapping to attention and offering a salute to a Major as he came out. He barely glanced at me.
A very attractive Captain looked up from her console as I entered. “Can I help you, trooper?”
I offered another salute. “Lieutenant Donald Martino reporting for duty, ma’am.”
“Your orders, please?”
I reached into one of the zippered pockets on my flight suit and handed her the orders Joanna had drawn up for me.
She looked
at them then back to me. “You’re Captain Darcy’s replacement?”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand he’s been placed in quarantine.”
“You’re a little early aren’t you, Lieutenant? Director Lansing isn’t due to leave for over an hour.”
“I thought I’d get the pre-flight check out of the way.”
She nodded. “Corporal Dawson?” A trooper looked over. “Could you escort Lieutenant Martino, here, to Director Lansing’s shuttle?”
“Aye, ma’am,” said the trooper. He smiled at me. “This way, sir.”
◆◆◆
Lansing’s shuttle was small and sleek, and I took a moment to familiarize myself with the cabin before looking over the cockpit. It would accommodate six comfortably, the seats upholstered in red Arconian leather. The view ports were tinted, fitted with solar blinds, and a small galley sat just to the right as you came out of the cockpit. A narrow panel to the left of the galley revealed an emergency locker containing field rations, water, a fully stocked first aid kit, two flare guns, and three boxes of flares. Enough to keep a stranded shuttle crew alive for three or four days until they could be rescued.
I slid the cockpit door open and stepped into the small command deck. I hadn’t piloted an actual shuttle in years—I figured my star jumper didn’t count since it was about half the size of a standard shuttle, three times faster, and about four times more expensive.
The Star Class cockpit design hadn’t changed much; all of the controls were pretty much where I remembered them to be. This particular model was a class eight. It had enhanced defensive abilities, better than average shields, and advanced laser-weapon capabilities. Which meant that the guns were just big enough to seriously piss something off and the engines just fast enough to allow it to run like snot before the big boys dusted it to atoms.
A small, recessed hatch rested on the floor to the right of the pilot’s seat. I flipped it open, revealing the operating panel for the ship’s hyper-drive. Uncomplicated and easy to read. I snapped it closed and moved aft.
Two triple escape pods nestled along the rear bulkhead. I looked into the port side pod. The release toggle sat under the main console. It had a rudimentary guidance system and small retros to slow descent. Even someone with no flight training at all could fly and land one of these things. Which was kind of the point.
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