by Skyler Grant
Centauri Justice
Skyler Grant
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Afterword
Copyright © 2018 Skyler Grant
All rights reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the publisher. Inquiries may be addressed via email to [email protected]
Cover designed by Ivan Tao
Typography by Kasmit Covers (kasmitcovers.com)
Editing Polgarus Studio (www.polgarusstudio.com)
Electronic edition, 2018
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1
"This was a bad idea sir," Taki said as she dove over a wall.
Quinn followed her a moment later, gunfire behind him.
It had been a simple idea. Stage an engine problem on the airborne yacht and get the crew and the slaver scum they worked for to abandon ship—before fixing the problem and stealing the yacht right out from under them.
"Who orders their security team to stay on a crashing ship? Who listens? What is wrong with these people?" Quinn asked, risking a shot. In the distance a black-clad slaver stumbled backward.
"People without a lot of options?" Taki asked, her shotgun blast catching a slaver in the chest as he charged toward them.
"Anyone want a job?" Quinn called out over the barricade. A round of bullets was the answer.
"Guess not. Rude. We on to the backup plan?" Taki asked.
"Yeah, cover me," Quinn said as he crouched low and sprinted for the nearby doorway. Taki fired off two shots, buying him the time to get through.
A slaver was just coming from that direction to flank the wall, a moment of shocked surprise for both of them. Quinn gave him an uppercut that sent him stumbling backward before the slaver could raise his rifle.
Another series of punches and the guard was knocked out, and Quinn was hitting his wristcomm. "Dela, plan B."
"Told you it was a bad plan," Dela said.
"Would people stop saying that and then agreeing to the plan anyway?" Quinn said, as he ran through the halls.
Damian Sinclair was the slaver they were hunting. His money did enough business with the families that they let him be, but he wasn't actually under their protection, which made him an ideal target. Well, plus the fact that, on a world filled by the wicked, he stood out for his cruelty.
Quinn counted wall panels as he ran, four, five, six ... at the seventh he paused and tore it off. Quinn pulled a cube from his pocket, connecting it. Melody had prepared this little surprise, just in case. Even now it would be interfacing with the navigational controls, steering the ship towards the ocean.
"Mara, we’re on the backup plan? You about finished up?" Quinn called.
"An excessive amount of security for what should be a private system. I've a tiny bit of respect for the man. I've got the files, but decrypting them will take some time," Mara said.
The files were just part of what they'd come for, detailed accounting of just who had done the kind of business that even on Arkstone crossed the line.
The box beeped and Quinn removed it from the system.
"We're locked in," Quinn said.
"Estimated three minutes and seven seconds until target area," Dela said.
"Syncing," multiple voices reported.
Quinn entered the time into his comm.
"Stop right there," a voice said from farther down the hall.
A slaver had stepped out into the hallway, the young woman holding a pistol steady on Quinn. Too steady, she'd have time to get off a shot by the time he could draw.
"Nice work, got the drop on me. I respect that," Quinn said, as he discreetly keyed his comm to remain open.
"Don't need your flattery. Gun on the floor and hands against the wall," the young woman said.
"That is not going to happen. What is your name? I'm Quinn."
"Nell," the woman said after a moment, "I'm not kidding. I will shoot you."
"You watch the news, Nell? The Empress thief? The fall of House Delcoro?" Quinn asked, keeping his hand near his gun as he turned to better face her.
"You're one of them. The bounty on you ..." Nell said, and the words trailed off wistfully.
Quinn had to agree, he wished he had that bounty himself.
"You're young, but you seem comfortable with that gun. Farm girl?"
"Karabala," Nell said, and her gun shook.
Tamara said into Quinn’s ear, "Monitoring the situation. Karabala was a farming world, barely profitable. Sinclair bought out the whole colony contract and resold most of the populace to factory worlds."
There was a juncture panel to Nell's left. A bullet would probably cause it to explode. Quinn would get shot in the meantime, but could probably survive, Nell wouldn't.
"Then you have more reason to hate him than I do, and you know what I'm here for," Quinn said.
"He already left. You can't kill him if he isn't here," Nell said.
"You know what this yacht cost him? Custom built, he takes it everywhere as a sign of his power. His authority. In a little over two minutes it’s going into the ocean," Quinn said.
The gun wavered more. "There are good people still aboard. Not many, but a few. They don't deserve to go down with it."
"Aft deck. Two minutes. Run, we'll hold as we can," Quinn said.
The gun dropped and with a determined look Nell holstered it and turned, setting off at a run.
"Get that everyone?" Quinn asked.
"We'll do what we can here," Jinx said.
By the time Quinn made it back out to the deck the shooting had stopped. A blood-streaked Kara was just sheathing her sword.
"Wish you'd stop using that thing," Quinn said.
"Gets boring if you don't keep pushing yourself," Kara said.
Quinn headed for the prow. In the skies above the airship the Centauri Bliss dropped into view, the ramp open. Bundles of cables and netting spilled out.
The figurehead of the yacht was made out of Duralium, valuable on the open market. A twice-life-size figure of a nude woman stepping forward.
"Should I be bothered the stupid statue has bigger breasts than I do?" Taki asked. She'd already taken her place nearby and bent to grab some netting.
"It is giant. Your head is smaller too," Quinn said, as he moved to help.
"You're supposed to compliment me, sir, not say that I'm making bad comp
arisons." Taki secured the wires.
Behind them the Centauri Bliss centered itself behind the yacht and several blasts of the disruptor cannons flashed as it fired on the engines.
The constant tremble of the ship’s engine beneath their feet stopped and the prow angled down.
The Centauri Bliss moved overhead and dropped a tow line. Taki rigged it to the netting and they both hung on as the ship pulled up. They didn't so much carefully remove the figurehead, but more like wrenched it free.
"We've got problems. Incoming corporate security ships," Dela said over the comms.
That was unexpected. Sinclair had enough enemies and they'd hoped that would buy them some more time before the law responded.
"How long?" Quinn asked.
"They're coming in fast."
The Centauri Bliss moved towards the stern of the falling air-yacht. There was a small crowd gathered there. A few in security uniforms, but more in the attire of servants and some wearing barely anything at all. Servants, both pleasure and otherwise.
Taki was already climbing up the towline and Quinn moved behind her. It was perilous work with the winds buffeting them violently.
"We're not going to have time for an orbital bounce if we want these people. Jinx, you're up," Quinn said, panting.
"On it," Jinx said.
Quinn lost sight of the deck as the ship maneuvered down to bring the ramp even, and his world became the climb. A savage gust of wind nearly dislodged Taki, the safety line jerking her back and prompting a pained grunt after a moment of dangling.
"You're good," Quinn said.
A fighter craft zoomed beneath them, a siren wailing as it spun. So much for their hope of avoiding being on any sensor readings.
Taki got to the top of the towline and Melody reached down from a maintenance hatch, taking her arm and easily pulling her up into the craft. Quinn got the same treatment a moment later and she sealed the hatch behind them.
"Hatch clear," Melody called.
The ship shook as it began to take weapons fire.
"Ramp clear," Kara reported.
"Hold onto your lunch," Dela told them.
The world twisted and warped around them. The jumps always showed things that might have been or realities that weren't. Quinn was a soldier this time. He didn't even get past nineteen before he died in the muck on some world he didn't recognize.
It was an especially vicious jump, Jinx was using the orb. It let them avoid Runestones, but the effects were especially brutal.
Quinn was sure he turned an incredible shade of green, Taki looked to be feeling just as ill. A few seconds of almost heaves and he managed to get himself back together. That was a first, a good sign, and Taki had held it together too.
2
It had been two weeks since their takedown of Sofia Delcorro and the Tremel system was already showing signs of changes. It hadn't been too long ago when they'd been dodging a blockade here. Now the colony had three cruisers and a few fighter craft in orbit.
It was still just a fraction of the ships from the newly neighboring system, but more colonists would be arriving daily, especially since word had gotten out of how one of the families had been brought low.
A transport met them and secured the yacht's figurehead before Dela landed them at the colony.
Quinn was heading for the ramp when Nell grabbed his arm.
"Captain, what is going to happen to all of us?"
"You can go your ways, if you've families to get back to. But if you want to stay I'm sure you'll be welcome. Hope's Reach is growing fast," Quinn said.
"And you've an in with the major colony investors," Jinx said, coming up behind them. She looked slightly amused.
"That is good for us, but what about the others? I mean, crashing his ship is good and all, but you don't know the man. Not like we do," Nell said.
"This is going to hurt him. Men like Damian Sinclair live on their image and we've hurt that. Take away all that bravado and there is nothing left," Quinn said.
"If you think that, you don't really know him at all. Please, Captain."
No recognition of Jinx or her title, but, then again in a tee and shorts, and wearing gloves to conceal her rune, there wasn't much to give that away.
Quinn thought it over. As eager as he was to get boots on the ground and relax after the job, if Nell was this insistent that Sinclair could cause trouble, she might have something worth listening to.
Quinn hit his comm. "Ship meeting, ten minutes. Those we rescued want a word." Closing the channel he focused on Nell. "You can tell your people they can head to ground, but if you have any others we ought to listen to, grab them."
It was a weary-looking group that gathered around the dinner table. Dela had that distant stare that came from being focused for too long. Taki was slumped in her chair in exhaustion.
Nell brought two others to the meeting. One was a woman who looked to be in her late twenties, hard brown eyes and a jagged scar across one cheek. She must have been one of the pleasure staff by how absurdly little she wore, just a few artfully molded strings leaving nothing to the imagination. The man was moustached, forties, and wearing the jacket of kitchen staff.
"Need something warmer to wear?" Quinn asked the woman.
"Thanks, but no. It doesn't really work like that," she said.
"You decided to come after our ... owner. Why?" Nell asked the Bliss crew.
"Everybody hates slavers, and we wanted to make a difference with a target that wouldn't raise too many waves. Sinclair is supposed to be a right bastard even among right bastards," Taki said.
"Buying out of whole colony’s contracts and converting the colonists into stock. Flying a yacht wherever he went and living like a king, while the people suffering were underfoot. Easy to hate," Tamara said.
"You were right. They don't understand him at all," the scarred woman said to Nell.
"We're here to listen. If you want to start talking, you can do it anytime," Quinn said.
Nell nodded. "This is Asara Grace, she used to be Sinclair's right hand—and she used to be one of his dearest friends."
"Until I met a guy, wanted to leave the organization, get married. Try something that wasn't shoving people into cages," Asara said.
Mara's eyes narrowed as she looked over Asara. "He chipped you?"
Asara nodded.
"Chipped?" Quinn asked.
"Implants like mine and Mara's," Tamara said, her voice grown cold. "They're capable of considerably expanding the human potential, but they can also serve darker purposes."
"Like what?" Quinn asked.
"For example, I'm incapable of wearing anything more than this without experiencing excruciating agony. Throw me into a blizzard and I'd fight you to be naked instead of in a fur coat," Asara said flatly.
Quinn felt anger stirring inside him, it was strange how comfortable it felt, like a friend stretching out and settling beneath the skin.
"I take it that isn't all?" Tamara asked.
"Of course not. Because I wanted to leave him Sinclair turned me into the plaything for his guests, his servants, and he'd make me want what they did to me," Asara said, moving to rest her hands on the table as she stared at them. "When we were friends, I saved his life more times than I can count, but he did this. Sinclair loves his examples."
Nell gave a weak smile. "Simon here cooked for the staff. One of Sinclair's favorite tactics if you mess up isn't to punish you directly. He knows who you love, who you care about, and when you make a mistake he serves you a part of them."
Anger turned to a bit of stomach-churning—forced cannibalism.
Quinn raised a hand. "We'll pass on further details there. We get it, he is an exceptionally bad man."
Asara massaged her eyes. "You think him a common brute, but he isn't. I know men like that, hit them once and they crumble. I've broken men like that. Sinclair isn't one. The yacht? The wealth? It’s all a show, and he doesn't dive into the darkness to afford them. He uses t
hem to hide how much he likes the darkness."
"You've given us a lot of nightmare to dwell upon and I'm sure we'll all be grateful, eventually.” Quinn asked the others, “Can we help Asara?"
"If you got your implants as an adult, it must have been excruciating. I'm guessing he didn't care about that," Mara said.
"I was ... pretty much insane for about three months afterward. Everything in the world was pain to me," Asara said.
Taki said, "Does she deserve our help, Captain, even if we can give it? You heard what she was up to, and she was Sinclair’s right hand. I'm not inclined to leave anyone in the state she is, but if ever one deserved it, then it’s her."
Asara said, "There is nothing you can do. I talked to people, friends I used to know. Taking them out will kill me."
"Leaving aside the issue of if she deserves our help, she's right. The implants will have fused into her nerves, rewired them. Extraction will kill her," Mara said.
"What if I got involved?" Jinx asked.
Mara furrowed her brow. "I'm honestly not sure. Your abilities focus around restoring existing order and the existing order is the existing structure. Could you restore the old one? Perhaps, if you knew what you were doing."
"There is a chance?" Asara asked.
Mara looked once more at Jinx and sighed. "Jinx can restore your body, I think she should be able to keep you alive, but there is a very real chance you'll be paralyzed, in perpetual agony, or some combination thereof."
"I'll take the risk. Please," Asara said, a trace of desperation in her tone now.
"Sir, I've said my piece," Taki said.