Wild Nines (Mercenaries Book 1)

by A. R. Knight

  “Davin would leave with me unconscious?” Trina said. A headache thudded beyond the edges of her eyes. She noticed Erick had a long series of bandages along his abdomen, that the doctor looked pallid. “You ought to lay here.”

  “Not a luxury I have,” Erick said. “If you’re feeling better, then I have to check on my other patient.”

  “Other patient?”

  “Merc took a laser to the chest.”

  Mox walked into the med bay, his giant frame making the space crunching between the bed and the medical lamp. He looked at Trina and, seeing her awake, nodded.

  “Good?” Mox said.

  “Capable enough to assure the engines run,” Trina replied. “However, I shall need assistance to get to them, as my legs seem to be beyond my ability to control.”

  Both Mox and Erick helped Trina out of the bed and stood her up on the floor. She was wearing the same clothes, the light shirt and work jeans, that she’d been captured in, only now Trina felt as though they weighed a thousand kilos. Her legs were like the engines she ran, Trina knew they were there and how to use them, but could not feel what they were doing.

  “You will need to carry me,” Trina said to Mox. “I give you permission.”

  “Then we will run,” Mox said. He scooped Trina up, cradling her in his arms. Trina watched the hallways speed by as Mox clomped. Noticed, on the floor, a streaking red stain.

  “Whose is that?” Trina said.

  “Erick,” Mox said. They took the left at the T past the crew cabins, heading towards the engines.

  The bandage on his stomach. The trail was thick.

  “He dragged you. Back here,” Mox said. “Tried to hold out.”

  Trina entered the box room where the left engines and their control panel sat. Scuffs and more blood stained the metal, but not the blast marks Trina expected.

  “They didn’t try to shoot him?” Trina said.

  “Didn’t want to damage the engines.”

  “Why not?”

  “Trap,” Mox said.

  Ah, right. Because if the troopers ruined the engines, the Jumper wouldn't takeoff. And if they didn’t take off, then their trap wouldn’t trigger. They could have just dismantled the ship, kept them from leaving. But Trina had to think about where she was. Eden Prime. New business ventures didn’t play well if they were violent and left a bunch of people dead in their bays. And after the inspectors, Marl didn't want corpses dropped on the news headlines.

  “Easier to call it a malfunction on launch,” Trina muttered.

  “Hmm?” Mox said.

  “Nothing,” Trina replied. “They would not have had much time for a complex adjustment.”

  Trina moved over to the engine panel and reached into a brick-sized storage cubby. A multi-tool, some screws, adhesive, and a quick reference book for all the various alarms the engines used, a book that helpfully added the estimated time until the ship would explode.

  Looking at the main engine panel, there were four screws holding in the faceplate. On that plate was a screen reading out simple figures on whether the engine fuel,whether sensors reported clean pipes for thrust, connection to the ship’s computer, and so on. A series of dots and symbols. That they were green meant the troopers hadn’t messed with anything obvious.

  Trina’s eyes went over the screws. And there it was. Each of the screws twisted to a different angle, wound in without proper precision. You couldn’t have that on a space ship, especially not on the engine housing. One pops loose in flight and there'd be catastrophe.

  “Amateurs,” Trina said. “Look at this, Mox. They failed to cover up their work.”

  “Or you are too good,” Mox said.

  “Perhaps.”

  Then, with a few quick presses of the multi-tool, Trina had the engine panel off and was staring at a nest of wires. Wrapped around a pair of them, the ones that monitored the engine’s cooling, was a small band. A black strip, and Trina knew what was under it. Metal teeth, designed to cut into the wires as the Jumper went through atmosphere and warmed up. Interrupt the circuit. The metal teeth were flimsy, though. Cheap. They’d keep the circuit together for a few minutes time before falling apart. Then, boom.

  “I’ll give them this much,” Trina said, slicing through the band and cutting it off the wires. “They had the right tool in the right place. They were close to killing us.”

  “You’d have found it.”

  Wide awake and full of energy? She would have. Now, though, better to do it without the stress of actual flight going on as well.

  “I will tell Davin to shift the camera, or buy another, to watch the panels.”

  Mox nodded and left Trina to prepping the ship for launch. First, Trina removed the sabotaging band, then sagged against the wall, closing her eyes. If those screws had been right, Trina wouldn’t have caught it. Would’ve assumed they’d blown the job. Given up the sabotage and hoped Davin wouldn’t leave without trying to rescue his crew. All of them vaporized twenty kilometers out of Europa’s atmosphere when the left engine overheated, a short-lived star in Eden Prime’s sky.

  28

  A Fresh Start

  “They’re saying we’re cleared for launch,” Phyla laughed. “Funny, cause I thought they were just trying to kill us.”

  “Still think we’re rigged,” Davin said. Phyla looked at the captain, sitting in his chair, holding his side.

  “Why haven’t you gone to see Erick?”

  “Because my ribs won’t matter if that android blows us away before we get out of here.”

  “Nobody’s getting through.”

  At least, not till they performed some heavy maintenance on the computer code controlling the shipping doors, which would be one helluva task. Phyla sent the go command to flight control and the bay three launch door opened. The blue brightness of day flung itself in, washing out the artificial lights in the floors and ceilings.

  “We ready to spool up?” Phyla commed to Trina, in the engines.

  “All greens,” Trina said. “There’s always a chance they committed a second sabotage, but the odds are against it. Though I must admit I am not at one hundred percent.”

  “What do you think, captain?” Phyla said. “You trust your mechanic?”

  “She’s been stunned, concussed, and hasn’t slept all night?” Davin said. “Completely. Let’s go.”

  The Jumper sat on a series of landing struts, and when Phyla pressed the pre-launch button on the console, those struts raised a few centimeters off of the ground. A series of small jets triggered, firing at the bay floor and shoving the Jumper up. From there, Phyla used the flight stick, a twin-pronged beast of a thing covered with quick-access buttons tied to commands. She could talk to the ship’s computer, of course, but Phyla preferred the speed of touch.

  With a few taps, the landing struts retracted, the engines warmed up for space travel, and a final series of checks on hull pressurization, fuel load, and more fun things essential for life in the stars, began.

  “Ready to say goodbye to this place?” Phyla said.

  “I never want to come back.”

  That tone. Davin slipped into it whenever he was making a promise he knew he couldn’t keep. It used to be whether he and Phyla would be back in time for dinner, or wouldn’t go to one of Miner Prime's upper levels.

  “But we will, won’t we?” Phyla said.

  “Marl tried to kill us,” Davin said, staring out the cockpit as Phyla wheeled the Jumper around. “Took Cadge and Trina hostage. Sent an android to murder me. Hell, she probably had those inspectors killed too. It’s personal.”

  “But we’re running now?”

  “Look at us, Phyla,” Davin said, glancing at his own left side. “They hit us by surprise. Half of us are hurt. Merc’s a mess. He’s sitting in the med bay now, probably will be there for days. I won’t get us killed.”

  “They’ll be ready for us, next time,” Phyla said.

  “There won’t be a next time,” Davin said. “Things go as I
hope—”

  “Which they never do.”

  Phyla slide the throttle forward and the Jumper slid out of the bay, its engines emitting the gentle churn that said all was well, and they were ready to blast to another world. The pre-flight checks came back positive. Green and good to go.

  “I’ll never get tired of it,” Davin said. Europa fell below, disappearing as Phyla angled the ship up towards space, towards Jupiter. No pursuit registered on the console. Still waiting for their trap to spring.

  “Tired of what?”

  “This. Launching. It’s a fresh start, every time.”

  “Funny, cause this time, I feel like we’re not getting that at all,” Phyla said.

  “The first time I left, you remember why?” Davin said, still staring straight through that window.

  “You never said. All that talk about getting away, and then one day you’re just gone. Lina and I figured you’d died.”

  “That I’d died? I wanted to find a ship and leave and you thought I’d died?”

  “You took days to send a message. Your parents were hysterical. We were going to hold a funeral,” Phyla said.

  “I was excited,” Davin said. “Caught up in it.”

  “Glad somebody was having fun.”

  “Point is, we have a chance,” Davin said. “And I kept my promise.”

  The atmosphere bled away as the Whiskey Jumper shot out of Europa’s atmosphere. No explosion, no problems. Life support recycling air. Artificial gravity keeping them stuck to the floor. No hull breach alarms. The flight path sent by Eden Prime’s flight control kept them away from incoming ships, so they went into empty space. A great spot for a bomb to go off without collateral damage.

  Ahead of them, Jupiter spun in place. Its swirling beige majesty filled the cockpit with churn and chaos. They watched it for a minute, because what else could you do with something like that except stare?

  “You did come back,” Phyla said. “Guess I can trust you one more time.”

  “You pretty much have to,” Davin said, leaning back and stretching. “I am the captain, and this is my ship.”

  “Are you ready then, captain?” Phyla said, shaking her head.

  “So ready.”

  “So where are we going?” Phyla said.

  “Home,” Davin said.

  “Home. You think Lina can help, or do you just want to see her?”

  “Can I say yes to both?”

  Phyla punched in the route and a yellow line shot out from the front of the Jumper, a projection on the cockpit windshield. The route the autopilot recommended to get them to the largest space station in the solar system, Miner Prime.

  “Yes,” Phyla said, pushing the throttle to full flight speed. Seven days to get to Miner Prime. Seven days to get ready to go home again.

  29

  Post-Mortem

  Cosmetic damage. No critical functions impacted by the woman’s - Fournine checked its memory, the mission bios - Opal’s shot to his head. By Davin Masters’ resistance. The supply of plaskin the android had brought with it to Europa should suffice to repair the cosmetic damage.

  So Fournine ended the mission report, beamed out through its integrated comm to the stars. Fournine looked up at the sky. One of those black specks against Jupiter’s bright wash was likely the Whiskey Jumper. Where would the Wild Nines be heading now?

  “You failed,” a man said. Fournine turned to him, Its eyes running over the man and scanning his face, his clothes, his scents. Not much there other than a name, Ferro, and a home location: Mars. Obviously, an outdated entry.

  “Their combat abilities surpassed expectations,” Fournine said. “As I’m sure you would agree.”

  Eden Prime’s local media, what little there was of it, had already reported on the number of injured troopers and damage to the outpost’s prison. Fournine’s analysis of the language used made it clear the reporters weren't holding back their condescension.

  “It is true. We were not ready for them,” Ferro said.

  The boulevard picked up as people returned to normal. Lasers weren’t flashing. Explosions and screams were non-existent. Society resumed functioning. Fournine detected several glances Its way, even as It picked up and put on its hat, pulled up its collar. Anyone who looked, who noticed, walked a little faster. Android reputation held, even out here.

  “Are you planning a chase?” Fournine said.

  “Marl says you will do that. We are to secure the city,” Ferro said.

  “I am surprised. An analysis of your team’s abilities thus far indicates Marl should not trust you with that task.”

  “I didn't see you help.”

  “I was operating according to the plan. If it failed, it was due to your team’s inability to incapacitate, or to hold, those promised,” Fournine said. “In fact, were I to conduct a more thorough analysis, I might find enough to conclude an intentionally weak force posted at the prison.”

  “Never.”

  “And if I deemed it so, that could be construed as aiding a fugitive. Under the Free Laws, that mandates the same punishment for you,” Fournine said. The android shifted a hand to one of its knives.

  “No,” Ferro said. “You will not deem it so.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we will help you,” Ferro said. He glanced up at the sky. “They disarmed our trap. But they have not found our trace.”

  Fournine flagged its file on Ferro. Updated to include potentially clever, even duplicitous maneuvers. It re-ran the current conversation in its head, picking apart Ferro’s responses and searching for double-meanings, tells, things that may give away a less-than truthful telling.

  “So you know where they are heading,” Fournine said.

  “A deal,” Ferro said. “We will give you the destination, help repair and outfit you and your ship, you will not tell Marl anything… negative.”

  “I have filed the report,” Fournine said. “But not with Marl. I accept your proposal.”

  An hour later Fournine sat in the cockpit of the single-person starship made specifically for androids. No life support. No comforts besides the lone chair to access piloting controls. An engine capable of sprinting through the solar system faster than any other ship, including the Whiskey Jumper.

  “You’ll wait until after they land and are separated,” The voice on the other end of the transmission said. “I don’t want a destructive fight on my station.”

  “As ordered,” Fournine replied. “Be careful, as they are not as simple as they would appear.”

  “So your failure proved once,” The voice said. “Let’s hope it does not again.”

  The Wild Nines were going to Miner Prime. And Fournine would follow.

  30

  Banter

  “You shoulda seen what I did,” Cadge said, sitting at the long table that served as the centerpiece for the Jumper’s dining room, the splotched cream top meshing with the battered pots and scratched plastic plates in a nonsensical fashion that Cadge always found relaxing. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked damn fine. Kinda like Cadge himself. “Three of’em, trying to jump me and I’m throwing punches faster than a tornado.”

  “Sure,” Mox said. The big guy overwhelmed his chair, sprawling around the armrests and looming over the table’s surface. But Cadge saw the crinkle at the edge of Mox’s mouth. The lug would sit there and listen to Cadge spin stories the whole journey.

  “Then they stunned me, the cowards. Shot me in the back.”

  The food littering the table was mostly dried stuff that made up the ship’s stores. Packets full of what Erick called “flavored calories”. Sprinkle on recycled water and they’d stiffen into a paste that was as appealing as it sounded. Cadge preferred the strawberry shortcake, and he had two those packets poured into a bowl in front of him now, stuffing his face with spoonfuls in between beats of story.

  “Woke up a few minutes later, cause no stunner’s gonna keep me out for long, and there’s this guy standing over me. Like he’s s
tudying me. Like I’m one of those rats.”

  Mox was having his usual; a shake full of protein powder and vitamin pills. The man seemed to live on powdered substances. Sure, from time to time Cadge would dose himself up too. Had to keep the strength out here. Every meal though? No thanks.

  “And I’m thinking what, is this guy going to open me up or something? Stick some tracing device in me? So I start talking, throwing my words in his face like nothing you’ve heard before. Even you would’ve been embarrassed. I had to throw him off his game, you understand?”

  The door to the pod opened and Cadge glanced up to watch the bounty herself, Viola, walk in, looking around like she’d never seen ship’s kitchen before.

  “Anyway, he kicked me, knocked me out and then I woke up in the bag,” Cadge said. Mox grunted, cocking his head to the side. So sorry, big buddy, but a more interesting conversation just walked into the room. “Viola. Can I call you Vi?”

  “Vi?” Viola said.

  “Shorter,” Mox replied.

  “Exactly,” Cadge said. “Now, you might not think that’s a big deal, but wait till you’ve got a bunch of thugs taking shots at you. I call out Vi, it takes a second and you’re moving. I call out Viola and you’re dead by the time I finish.”

  Vi looked at Cadge, mouth hanging open. Like the girl was lost or something.

  “Hungry?” Mox asked her.

  “A little,” Vi replied, a program jerking back into motion.

  “This is all we got, Vi, so I’d get used to it,” Cadge said. “You can find all the flavors in those cabinets. Limit of two per meal, so we don’t eat ourselves to death.”

  Mox gave a low rumble of a laugh, Vi looked confused. Which was great. Worth money, and not even able to hang with casual conversation. Why Davin wouldn’t take them to Ganymede for a hot minute to collect the coin made no sense. Cadge would even take her in himself, if Davin didn’t want to. An android after them and they were turning down free coin.