The crotchety old curmudgeon scowled and spoke irritably. “Well, daughter, they better be gentlemen. I don’t cotton to no pirates. You remember the last time.” Jordon had taken to his part perfectly: his voice, his stoop, his use of the cane; all marvelously played. The man had a real knack for roleplaying just about any part.
“Oh, Daddy, that was a year ago,” Mara said, now fully engaging her part. “These here look like decent soldiers of the Confederation.”
Though stiff and frail the old man seemed to perk up, rising from his stoop almost a full two inches.
“Are they enforcers, daughter? Are you men enforcers?” Nearly blind, the old man moved to two dark broad bands that ran up a wall and held out a hand as if to shake theirs. “I was an enforcer, too,” he said cheerfully.
After a noticeable silence he added in approval as if to bolster the two lines on the wall, “That’s right—stand there stoically and pay me no never mind. That’s what I’d have done back in the day,”
The elderly lady turned him from the wall towards the men. “I’m sorry. His eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
Clearly confused, the old man looked back at the two lines, tilted his head back to see through the reading glasses that hung low on his nose, and tapped the wall with his cane just to be sure they weren’t men.
“Oops.” Embarrassed, he flashed a toothless grin at his daughter. He, too, was filthy and carried a certain odor that begged for a good scrubbing.
The two men looked at each other and smirked. The old man may have been an enforcer in his day, but that day had long since passed. Now all he was to them was some old fool to ignore if he needed some attention, or harass if he didn’t.
All of a sudden, and without warning, the old man clutched his chest. His face pinched in pain. The old woman, still holding his arm, winced as he crumpled. Mara pretended to strain to keep him from falling. She managed, as they had practiced, to lower him less than gently to the floor.
Jordon’s face flickered for an instant. At his belt, his holo-projector momentarily sparked. Had the inspectors missed the projector’s faltering? Blast! If it gave out now, she and he and all they’d worked toward would be stew for the dogs. She realized that they should have made a backup plan or exit strategy beforehand, but they hadn’t. Mara would have to wing it. Her only recourse was to keep the inspectors’ focus off the old man as much as she could and hope for the best.
“My pill, daughter,” he pleaded thinly. “My pill.”
Mara tensed. Jordon apparently hadn’t noticed his holo-projector’s hiccup, and was drawing unwanted attention back to himself.
The two enforcers walked casually to his side and watched with indifference as the frantic old woman pawed through of her apron pockets. Finally she drew out a pill bottle, opened it, and placed a small tablet under her father’s tongue. Before she could put the bottle away, it slipped from her shaky grasp, hit the floor and rolled to one of the men.
He stopped it with his boot and scooped it up to read the label. “Ashton. Justice Ashton.” He glanced at the old man then read the label again. “Are you the Justice Ashton of Ceti?”
The old man nodded feebly but neither opened his eyes nor let go from clutching his chest.
“Which way to this man’s bed, woman?”
The spinster pointed shakily to a doorway.
“Go! Lead me to it.” He picked the man up—Freefall altered Jordon’s weight to make him lighter than he actually was.
Cradling Jordon in his arms, the inspector followed Mara ahead of his partner. Once they were in the old man’s room he laid him carefully on the bed.
Ericca moved her small ship around from Freefall’s far side to the inspector’s two Talons. Riley followed in a ship of his own. Rachel, Josh, and Nate—already there—broke the key-codes of each Talon. Following Rachel’s signal, Errica and Riley climbed from their ships and jetted to the inspectors’ to take control of them. With the control of each Talon now theirs, they settled in and fired up the engines. Rachel inserted the newly acquired key-codes into the replacement Talons, and returned to Freefall with the two boys. Easy-peesy.
Both enforcers looked around the room which, like the rest of the ship, was filthy and well-aged. Shadows of where pictures once hung filled one wall. Alone at its center dangled a framed certificate. The lead enforcer took it from the wall to read.
“No! No!” the old guy protested. “Daughter, don’t let them take it. It’s all I got left.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s okay,” she said, patting his hand to calm him. Then she noticed his holographic overlay had vanished entirely. The projector winked and suddenly went dark. Wide-eyed, Mara looked at the inspectors who had their backs to them. Frantic, she pressed the projector’s button again and again but it refused to re-engage. It was then that Jordon saw and realized what had happened. Startled, he sat up. Mara pushed him back down with one hand, and grabbed the bedspread with the other to hide his face.
One enforcer glanced back toward them, and looked at Jordon before focusing on her. Disconcerted and suspicious, his brows pinched together. “Woman, what are you doing?”
Mara looked down. Jordon was once again an old man. She lowered the blanket and patted his hand. “There you go, Daddy. Better?”
Jordon nodded as he pulled the blanket up around his chin and shivered.
The inspector turned away to once more study the certificate.
Though his projector was dark, without it Jordon’s disguise had somehow returned. Then Mara remembered the ship. At the mobile holo-projector’s failure, Freefall had jumped into action. Remembering the script and her role in it, Mara took a breath and left Jordon’s side to stand beside the officers. Still trembling, she offered the men a feeble smile, and spoke softly as if to keep her father from hearing. “About a year ago pirates took all we had. This certificate was the only thing Daddy could hide well enough to keep. The scum took all his metals, war mementoes, and certificates of valor, ‘cept this’n of course. They had no real value ‘cept to me and Daddy. Pirates is just mean that way.”
The enforcer read it carefully, and then reverently returned it to the wall. Turning, he patted her shoulder reassuringly then went back with his partner to stand beside Jordon’s bed. “This man is Justice Ashton.” he said, his words filled with respect.
“I saw that,” said the other. “Iron-Justice himself, right? Impressive.”
Without tearing his eyes from the old man, the first shot a thumb over his shoulder. “That certificate honoring his victory at Odeedum is quite the keepsake. That battle, this man’s strategy to win it was definitely one for the books.” He leaned close to the old curmudgeon. “You have been my hero since I read of your exploits at the academy. The story of Odeedum took my breath away. It would be a great honor to shake your hand, sir.” He leaned over the old man and took his hand.
The old man’s grasp was feeble. Through his struggling to breathe and wheezing, he tried to speak clearly.
“I don’t shake a good man’s hand lying down—gasp—I needs to sit up, son.”
With great effort he threw off the blanket and tried to rise, and as he leaned to pull himself out of bed, without warning he coughed straight and hard into the enforcer’s face—then fell back in bed exhausted, and gasping for air.
The enforcer straightened and wiped the expectorant from his face in disgust then turned away to leave. His partner followed close behind. The old woman went with them to the bay and, once there, the enforcer, with a concerned smile, assured her their inspection was over. He wished her luck with their continued journey. Replacing his helmet and pack, he, with his partner, jetted back outside the ship.
The two enforcers waited and watched as the old woman closed the cargo bay door. Freefall moved away—the bright cherry red heat of the Ion converters could be seen well after the ship disappeared from sight.
“See that?” said one enforcers to the other. “Still using Ion converters. Blast if that ship ain
’t old. I say, when we come across another ship that ancient, from here on out, let’s just say we inspected it and give it a pass.”
“I hear ya,” said the other. “I left that old freighter feeling pretty dirty. I don’t think a week of baths will get me clean.”
“The maintenance crew will have to sanitize my cockpit thoroughly if I’m ever to fly that Talon again.”
“Mine too.”
“I’ll have to burn this suit.”
“I’d rather float in space forever than have to put my tail in another old ship like that one.”
“I just hope I didn’t see my future. That guy was a great Confederate war hero, but just look at him now—dirt poor and living in filth. Sheesh! Are you sure that was the right ship? No one said anything about it being a freighter.”
“Who knows? Intel has been wrong before.” The two enforcers returned to their ships and sidled down into their seats which seemed a tighter fit than before. As each lowered his canopy he realized the forthcoming explanation to his commander was going to be difficult. Neither was the ship either man had arrived in.
Chapter Three
When the old man accompanied the old lady back to the rec-room he was much jauntier than his years suggested, dancing a jig as he walked. The image was so unconnected from the action that Mara couldn’t help but chuckle at Jordon’s shenanigans. “Jordy, for an old guy, you’re pretty spry.”
“Got to admit, Momma, I’ve felt worse.” He looked toward the ceiling. “Freefall, old friend, nice save.”
“Glad to have helped, sir,” the ship said in a tone devoid of emotion.
He winked and slid the holo-badge from his belt. It had been fried. The holograph-projected-years melted away. Mara turned her mobile unit off and she too returned to her ‘youthful’ look, sort of. The crew gathered around them. As he studied each man, woman, and kid in turn, Jordon tried to find a home for his hands before finally settling on folding his arms and resting one forefinger on his lips. His attempts to look nonchalant never seemed to land first try.
Saying nothing, Ericca stepped back, took the pilot’s seat, and turned away completely disinterested. Raising her feet to the console, she crossed one over the other, interlaced her fingers behind her head, and leaned back.
Along with Riley, Jordon noticed and wondered if anyone else had. He could guess what it meant and knew things would soon come to a head between him and Ericca.
“So how did it go?” he asked to avoid drawing attention to the young woman.
Riley drew an arm around Rachel, his friend, his fellow seventeen-year-old, to half-hug her. “Smooth. Race bypassed the new Talon’s security systems in three minutes.”
Rachel Kori shrugged. “Sorry, brother dear. I wasn’t expecting their security system to be so retro. I’ll do better next time. I promise.”
Everyone laughed. Three minutes was remarkably fast, even if Rachel didn’t think so. She was Jordon Sr. and Mara’s other child, and like Jordon Jr., she was an accomplished gadget-maker.
Mara took Rachel’s shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “So now we have two of the new Talons to give to Providence intelligentsia. What condition did you leave those two enforcers in?”
“Well,” Josh answered, “we did leave them two perfectly good, fifty-year-old Talons. Minus a few extraneous parts, give or take. I mean, a transmitter is really just dead weight, isn’t it? Having one would’ve added to their fuel consumption. Best they not have them.”
Joshua Chisholm, and his ten-year-old brother, Nate, were Freefall’s loadmaster – cargo lifter pilots. It didn’t take strength to run the muscular lifters. It just took a careful, quick mind, which both boys had.
“Hey, they should be happy,” Riley said with a sly smile, “Saber class Talons are classics. And the radio we left in each will pick up some great AM stations.”
The crease between Jordon’s brows deepened. “AM stations?”
Josh nodded. “Yes, sir. By my calculations, radio signals from old Earth should be reaching this sector of space just about now.”
Jordon chuckled. “AM indeed. So, what do you suppose they’ll hear?”
Josh frowned. “It’s AM radio, sir. More than likely, if they fine tune the signal, they’ll hear old-time Gospel. That’s what we were thinking anyhow.”
Riley’s grin had a devious cast. “That or Rush Limbaugh. Either’s good.”
Jordon grinned. “Come on—all kidding aside, what situation did you leave them in?”
Feigning confusion, Joshua and Nate glanced at each other. Neither said anything.
But Rachel raised her hand and shouted as if in a game show. “Pick me! Pick me!”
Along with Mara, Jordon chuckled. “Okay, sis. What’s their real status?”
Very proud of herself, Rachel spoke cheerfully. “Well, to help them find their way and get to the nearest planet, each ship has a good working scanner and just enough fuel to land.”
Riley scoffed. “Unless they prefer soft landings. Unpowered, a Talon’s glide path is same as a rock’s.”
Race looked at him with incredulity. “Riley, my calculations were exact. They just need to be frugal with the fuel. No big deal. That, and find a patch of flat ground to land on.”
Jordon snorted a laugh and Mara chuckled. Apparently the kids gave the inspectors just enough fuel to get to Hawthorn if they were, as Rachel suggested, very frugal with their fuel consumption.
Ericca sat quietly and contributed nothing, but her unobtrusive behavior didn’t escape Jordon’s notice. Distracted by the girl’s attitude, he dismissed everyone, watched her for a brief moment, then followed the others out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Chapter-Four
Later that hour Jordon found Ericca in a corridor. “Hey,” he said, catching her hand to stop her, then just as quickly released her. He folded his arms. He gestured with one hand but instead of looking casual—his hope—his movements were forced, stiff, and contrived. This seemed to amuse her.
“Ericca, you okay?”
“I’m fine, sir. Why do you asked?”
“Are you? You’ve been short, snippy. Is it something I’ve said? Something I’ve done?” He brought his hand up to his chin, and rested a finger across his lips but the motion was clumsy. The more he tried relax around her, the more his muscles fought him.
Her answer—a slight shrug. “It isn’t you. It’s me.”
“This isn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself, is it?”
She paused and bit her lip. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully. “Archer and I have been on our own for quite a while. We were trained to handle ourselves in a fight. That’s what we do. This sedentary life takes getting used to and, in fact, I don’t really want to get used to it.”
“Well that’s the shipping life. Huge expanses of boredom punctuated by spikes of excitement. Nothing I can do about that.”
She forced a faint but friendly smile. “Why did you hire Archer and me?”
“Well now, that is a story, but not one I wish to tell in the hallway.” Turning to his office, he gave a quick snap of his head, bidding her to follow. He took a seat at his work desk, and Ericca took a seat across from him.
“Once,” he began, “while my family and I were out enjoying the sights, someone broke into this ship. We lost a valuable machine and irreplaceable tech that day. I feel better having the added security. I thought you knew that?”
A black cube sitting on his desk caught her attention. She picked it up to study as she spoke.
“Sir, that’s what you said when you first signed Archer and I on as security. Our presence should’ve made you bolder, braver, but instead, according to Race, you’ve grown more timid. You avoid planets with even the slightest reputation.” She flipped the cube into the air and caught it without looking.
“That isn’t true. I—”
“Captain, you know the greater the risk, the greater the reward, right?” She flipped it again.
“Sure, but—”
She flipped it higher, irritating him with her indifference to the cube’s importance.
He rose from his seat. “I know that, Ericca, but—” He leaned across his desk and on her next toss, snatched it before it hit her hand. Seating himself, he replaced the cube in its cradle.
Her eyes flicked to him, then the cube, and then back to him. “Sir, take advantage of Archer and me being here. We’ll do our best to keep you safe. I promise.”
Crossing his arms, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I just don’t think the rewards justify the risks.”
“It’s a wonder you make ends meet.”
He dropped his eyes to her. “You want a raise, is that it?”
“I don’t want a raise. Fires and furnaces, sir, I’d take a pay cut if we can just break this blasted hometown monotony. A scrape once in a while, a shootout, a fistfight, give us something to do; something dangerous. That’s all we’re asking.”
“There was this job,” he said referring to stealing these two Talons. “That was dangerous.”
“That was dangerous only because you made it so.”
“What?
“The fact is, that was amateur hour.”
“Really?” he said, incensed. He and his mom had taken great pains to work out every detail. “And what would you have done?”
“Oh . . . now you ask.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a gizmo guy. I get that. But I’m your chief security officer. I should be the first person you come to about matters of security. Not Mommy.”
“Leave Mom out of this.”
“You should stick to making your whatzits and leave security operations like this last one to me and Archer.”
“Excuse me? I am the captain of this vessel, and—”
“A job you’re completely unsuited to.”
“What? Hey!”
“Someone had to tell you.”
“Is that what you believe, that as captain I’m out of my element here?”
“Doesn’t this last job prove that?”
Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) Page 3