CHAPTER NINE
My pod doesn’t respond as it normally would; the last two corners had me run wide as if I was carrying an extra load. But, wrapped up in my thoughts, I realize too late.
I am about to pull over when I feel a neuromuzzle poke into my suit’s underarm joints: one of its few vulnerable places. Only an experienced streetfighter would know this. I consider my options, but drop all of them as soon as I hear a familiar, coarse, high-pitched voice speak from the emergency seat behind me.
“Keep going. I’ll tell you where to drive. Any moves other than piloting this pod without attracting attention, will get you this.” He pushes the neuroblaster hard into my suit.
“I’m not exactly keen to attract any attention. Or haven’t you heard? If that’s really you, Darpesh, I’m shocked that you don’t know I’m already on Rykkamon’s most-wanted list.”
Darpesh sniggers. “Good price on your head, too.”
I look in my rearcam to see the wolf-like face of Sloper’s assassin grinning back at me. I wonder what he’s doing on the planet in the first place.
“How did you get into my pod?”
He shrugs his wiry metran-clad shoulders, all the while I feel the push of the blaster into my armpit. “You’re not the only one who can hack Errikson’s codes. But I doubt the Rykkans will care. Now that you’re muscling in on their gangs; killing their outlaws and taking over the mercenary trade, I’m seriously considering redeeming my bounty.”
My chest tightens when I hear my captor’s words, but I have no time to reason any of my spinning thoughts as he indicates we need to change lanes. I take the next two turns Darpesh tells me, and we head out of town, leaving the squat buildings behind us.
“I didn’t kill any outlaws,” I say, hoping Darpesh will fill in some blanks.
I feel a portable holovid attach to my helmet, and a video starts off to my right. I watch it while keeping one eye on the road.
The vision is of the no-go zone where I parked my ship. The action is horrific: the outlaws run out from their reconstructed shacks, straight into a volley of high-impact plasma fire. I cannot see the who is source of the firepower—they are the one wearing the holocam—but Darpesh’s quickened breath and pleasure-humming behind me gives me a good clue.
Almost all the thugs die in the first barrage, and it’s not until the Chief appears that they fall back to a strategic defense. A mini-grenade cluster thrown into their midst finishes them off.
The attacker now runs to my ship, and I am alarmed to see the entry port open up, the wearer of the holocam obviously jumps in, and the video stops.
Darpesh snickers in the dark behind me. “Now you’re a mass-murderer as well as an arm remover.”
I shake some sense into my head. “What do you want? You have my ship. You’ve turned me into a wanted killer.”
“I don’t want anything. I’m only the courier.”
His words send a shiver down my spine. “Sloper?”
“Oh yes. He’s looking forward to catching up. It’s not far now.”
I tense up, and struggle to keep my focus on the road. “He’s here?”
Darpesh laughs. “I thought you’d be impressed. Pull over at the next ramp, you’ll see a hovertruck in the bay. Stop next to the trailer. I think it will be quite a party.”
Sloper. No wonder Venik was rattled. I never thought for one moment he would turn up on Rykkamon. The man I most want to kill for what he did to Papa. Opportunity knocks.
I pull the unipod to a halt, and don’t wait for the gyrostabilizers to kick in before twisting violently in my seat—but Darpesh is too quick for me, and I experience the searing, intense pain of a neuroblaster at close range. The last thing I remember is slumping heavily in the high gravity, and tumbling out of the side door onto the ground.
CHAPTER TEN
I awake with a fuzzy head and a searing pain in one arm. I try to move, but I am pinned to something—a table?
“Save your energy.”
Sloper? I stop struggling. Now it’s between me and him.
I open my eyes and take stock. I have no recollection of being moved, but I’m obviously not in the hovertruck’s trailer. The room is sparsely furnished—just a few heavy Rykkan chairs scattered across a plain cement-like surface, and one table, occupied by the prisoner.
And one chair, inhabited by the man I swore I would kill the next time I saw him.
Darpesh and three of his men stand against the walls, armed with neuroblasters, rifles and laserSwords.
Mistake number one: they left me in my fight suit.
Sloper pushes his chair back onto two legs. A well-built man, with arms and legs forged from years fighting, he is also wearing a metran gravSuit, but has no helmet. I check around the room: my helmet is missing.
He gesticulates with his blaster. “You can say thank you, now you’re awake.”
I eyeball him. “I don’t exchange pleasantries with double-crossers. You have anything useful to say before you die?”
Sloper laughs. “You’ve been wanting to kill me ever since I had a disagreement with your father—”
“Disagreement? That’s rich. I’d call it murder. Either way, it’s time I for me to have my own disagreement. With you.”
I wonder how Sloper knew I had set out to kill him. I’ve kept that off-limits in conversation. But that will have to wait. For now, I will stall him while I figure out a way to dismember four assassins while tied down.
I lift my head to look up at him. “If you’d like a few last words, the floor is yours. As far as I can see, I’m persona non-grata on Rykkamon thanks to you. Was that the thank you you were looking for? Or is this some strange way to begin your sadistic treatment?”
I flex my suit against the straps keeping me on the table. Not much give there. I wait for Sloper to make the next move.
He rocks the chair back to all four legs with a bang and allows the motion to bring him to stand over me. Grinning. The bastard. I’d happily take his head off right now even if it means my own death. At least Papa will be avenged. I try to settle my ire. Anger is only going to get me killed.
An icy calm floods through me. I fix an impassive gaze on him. “What’s so funny?”
He grins more. “What I have in mind for you.”
I flop back on the table. My right leg has a tiny amount of movement against the strap. “You know how to string these things out, Sloper. Do we have time for a drink? Darpesh’s blaster made me thirsty.”
Sloper nods to one of the guards, who slips from the room. Sloper eyes me up and down.
“Get a good look, why don’t you.” I turn my face away, faking my surrender to the situation.
“Making sure the merchandise has survived. When I heard you were on Rykkamon, I took a calculated risk by coming here in person. As it turns out”—he glances over at Darpesh, who leans coolly against the wall—“events came together rather well. Now Rykkamon has a price on your head. It's almost too good to be true.”
Almost? What am I missing here? My mind races; I imagine torture, all my trade contacts given up to Sloper, then he throws me to the Rykkans. I’m in the middle of trying to connect the dots when the guard returns with a water bottle.
Sloper motions to the guard to give me the bottle. I shrug with my tied-down hands. “Is he going to hand-feed me?” I wriggle my left hand, feigning weakness.
The guard unties my left hand at Sloper’s instruction. The other two guards and Darpesh raise their blasters at the ready as the guard hands me the water bottle.
I move to take it, but instead, I whip across to my right leg and rip at the loosened strap, using the gravSuit’s chin-activated power boost. The strap breaks and my arm flies back. I use its momentum to smash my elbow into the guard’s face and he goes down. As he drops, I grab his plasma rifle and spray it at full blast around the room. Both Sloper and Darpesh have already dropped out of range under my table, but I slice the other two guards and they too, drop in a violent spray of blood. T
he last image I have of them is their expressions of astonishment.
I’m yanking my right arm, but the strap is stubborn. My right leg is free, and I twist over to gain purchase and point the rifle under the table. My head explodes in pain when a heavy, blunt object connects with my skull, and I am vaguely aware of Darpesh lunging over me with one of the Rykkan chairs held over his head. I have no time to wonder how he managed to swing that around so fast because another blow takes my lights out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I awake for the second time, groggy and with a pounding head. I’m still on the table, and I try to move, but this time I’m heavy and my chest feels constrained. Breathing is labored. My arms feel like they are pinned down, and my head weighs as much as a Rykkan football.
It slowly dawns on me that I’m feeling the crushing effects of raw Rykkan gravity.
My fight suit is gone.
I’m only able to move my eyes, but they show me that Sloper is back on his chair. The two dead guards and the bloody mess is gone, as is the water bottle guy. Darpesh has a murderous look on his face, and there are three more guards in the room, leering at me. I realize I’m only wearing my off-white singlet and undies. No wonder the guards are ogling.
Sloper leans his bulky frame forward. “Mighty impressive. My sources did not tell me you’ve been training so hard.”
“To kill you.” I move to spit at him, but even in my rage I manage to check myself. The high gravity would make a mess of that. Better to save my revenge for when it is best served.
Sloper sits back and claps his hands on his suited thighs. The slap echoes off the room’s hard surfaces. He laughs. “Just the person I need.”
I frown. “Sloper, I give up. You’re going to kill me, torture me, or give me up to the Rykkans. Which shall it be?”
I hope it’s the first. Or maybe he wants to do all three. Not in that order, of course.
Sloper expresses mock surprise. “My dear girl, that would be such a waste.”
I’m confused.
Sloper continues. “I’m hiring you.”
I try to sit bolt upright, but the intense pain in my head, the lights flashing behind my eyes and the small matter of almost two-gee and a ton of industrial-strength straps all conspire to hold me down. I grit my teeth. “What makes you think I’d ever work for you?”
He holds up a portable holo to my face, and taps play. The video that springs to life has no sound, but in this case I am thankful. I look up at Sloper in horror. He shrugs. “He was on the way to Ganymede and took a wrong turn.”
I look back at the holo, then look away. Mitch, my older—and only—brother is in a cage, covered in blood and wearing only boxers. He is crying.
Sloper switches the holo off and stands. “I take it that’s a yes, then?”
“You bastard,” I whisper.
He laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know.” His expression changes to serious. “But I will end his life if you refuse my job offer.” He moves to leave, and one of the guards opens the door.
He pauses and looks back at me. “However, I believe in using both the stick and the carrot. So bring me back the prize and you will not only be reunited with your brother, but I will ensure someone else is caught for the Rykkamon atrocities and restore your reputation. I’ll even pay your debts.”
I have no words.
“I thought you’d like the employment terms.” He turns to Darpesh. “ Get the medbay to fix her up.”
“Wait—”
Sloper turns back to me.
“What’s the job?”
He grins again. “Salvage the Constellation.”
A wave of shock slides across me. “What the—?”
But Sloper has already gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I’m in a private hoverShuttle with tinted bubblescreens and a driver who knows nothing. Sloper is sending me straight to the spaceport, where apparently there is a salvage vessel and a small crew at my disposal. Though Sloper’s description of them as “a bunch of mercenaries,” doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I have no idea as to the whereabouts of my own ship, or Jordi. I’m wanted by the Rykkan authorities, my brother is being held hostage, and my trade is in tatters.
The only redeeming element in this list is the deal Sloper has offered to settle my debt.
The impossible problem is that I first have to salvage a battlecruiser that no-one has been able to find for four years. That some say was destroyed.
Sloper told me the shuttle would get me past the spaceport’s security—I imagine he’d bribed the guards—but once I was on the ship, getting off the planet was on me.
I glance out of the shuttle’s dark plexibubble. Something catches my eye: it’s a dark smear on the horizon. A dark smear rapidly getting bigger. I groan and slump back in my seat. The driver looks back at me. “We will be at the port before the next storm, Madam Captain.”
We have to be, I think, since the entire city will be in lockdown, including the spaceport, and I won’t be going anywhere.
The shuttle lurches to a halt.
The side door slides open in a swirl of dust and a gravSuited figure jumps in beside me. The door closes and we accelerate away at speed. The figure lifts their visor and I see a familiar smiling face looking out at me from under his helmet.
Jordi.
“How did you get here? I thought you were on my cruiser and captured after Darpesh killed the outlaws? Where have you been?”
Jordi’s face drops. “The Chief’s guys were taken out? Sheez, that’s bad news.” He doesn’t seem perturbed by the loss of my cruiser.
“Answer the question, or I’ll kick you out.”
His eyes widen. “Don’t do that, please. Sloper will kill me. He made me join you on some salvage scouting mission.”
“Made you?”
The shuttle bumps us around. The air is buffeting the vehicle badly and I see the driver fighting the controls, looking nervously at the approaching storm.
“It’s a long story. So where are we going?” He looks at me, lips slightly apart, breathing fast.
I know Jordi well. Unfortunately. I sigh. I don’t understand what I saw in him. But he does have some skills. Like talking his way in and out of anything. “You slipped out of my cruiser and went to town to gamble. Sloper found you.”
Jordi shifts in the seat. “Sort of. Yeah.” He avoids eye contact.
The shuttle lurches again, then steadies. I see the spaceport looming in the distance. I do some rough calculations. As long as Sloper’s promise of a trouble-free entry to the port is delivered, we’ll make it off the planet before the storm hits.
“So where are we going?”
I give him a quizzical look. “Sloper didn’t tell you? Maybe he was worried you’d bail out. I—we—are going to salvage the Constellation.”
He jerks up and hits his head on the shuttle’s bubble. “Moondog! That old myth? The Blood Empire destroyed it.”
“Apparently not. It's just been missing for four years.”
“Wait ... Don't tell me you agreed?”
I feel my mouth tighten and the smile vanish. “He has Mitch.”
Jordi stares at me. I see the cogs turning in his head. “We’re in deep.”
I nod. “You could say that.”
He screws his face up. “What’s he going to do with it ... if it exists?”
But we have no time to discuss it further, because the shuttle careers to one side, making us both grab for support. Only this time, it’s not the rising wind.
We shunt to a violent halt. The mainway in front of us is blocked by three unipod speedsters, in front of which are four Rykkans, armed with plasma rifles. One of them advances to our shuttle, limping badly.
“Hey!” I shove our driver. “Get us out of here!”
The driver looks to be paralyzed with fear and does not move.
“Darpesh didn’t kill them all,” Jordi says, stating the obvious as he watches the injured Rykkan Chief raise his ri
fle to shoulder height. He reaches down to his belt, unclasps two laserpistols, throws one to me. He throws me a quick questioning look. “The pleiades move? Or the epsilon?” He actually makes me smile. He’s right. We’ve got out of worse.
“Pleiades. Got to be.”
No more words are spoken as we simultaneously kick the emergency door latches on either side of the shuttle, and roll out in opposite directions away from the vehicle, firing at foot level as we do. I keep rolling further away and firing. I’m a moving target, but they aren’t.
Three of the thugs have already dropped, badly injured and hobbled. No way are they going anywhere.
But the Chief is nowhere to be seen.
I stop and stay chest down, prone. All four vehicles are stationary, locked in gyrohover standby, so I can see underneath them. The Chief, despite his limp, has moved around behind one of his pods. I call out. “Jordi! Status?”
“Green,” he yells back.
“Shuttle,” I call to him.
I scramble to my feet and bolt for the shuttle’s door, but just as I’m about to vault into safety, the vehicle tears off in a flurry of dust. I am momentarily frozen.
“Drop, Indy!” yells Jordi, and I do. He fires over the top of me, and the pod in front of the Chief explodes.
I leap up and force my gravSuit into a power-boosted, but ungainly sprint for one of the remaining pods. I hear Jordi racing behind me. I jump into the pilot seat and Jordi takes the rear-facing emergency seat in the back. I thank the galaxies that the thugs left their pods running, and there is no code needed. I tap the pad, and we shoot off, leaving carnage behind us.
“Where are we going?” Jordi shouts over the noise. He has the rear gullwing open and his pistol trained out of the door.
I glance through the bubble up at the sky, then to the front. The pod is riding rough in the winds, which are whipping around us. One side benefit: the streets and roadways are emptying rapidly. One not so good side-effect: there’s a good reason why everyone is running for shelter. A 90% fatality rate for anyone staying out in the open.
Constellation (Blood Empire Book 1) Page 4