Last Man Out (Poor Man's Fight Book 5)

by Elliott Kay

  The hauler rolled on. “Stop! Gimme the gun!” Swarthy yelled.

  “No! Keep going!” demanded the blond man. “Troy’s been shot. He needs help!”

  “Aw shit, the boxes!” Swarthy exclaimed. They were already twenty meters away.

  Tanner sat up, frantically looking for a weapon. The boxes were the best he could do. He snatched one off the pavement and gave chase.

  “Assholes, get back here!” Tanner shouted. He saw Swarthy reach out and tug the wounded Troy deeper into the cargo bay. The hauler’s cargo door slammed down before Tanner could throw his box. The vehicle hit the end of the alley and turned hard onto the street.

  “Damn it! Don’t run!” shouted Tanner. “You’re the only problem in my life I know how to deal with!”

  Nobody answered. He stood alone in the alley, dirty and bleeding.

  He nearly threw the box out of pure rage. A stroke of pure luck, stumbling into these guys and then taking all three by surprise—four, counting the driver—and it all slipped from his hands. Nothing to show for it but adrenaline and some bruises.

  That and the box. Tanner stopped himself. Probably a bunch of nonsense to bolster their cover as delivery guys, he figured, but he supposed he might as well look. It could possibly be a clue. Maybe. If he could be so lucky twice in one day. Tanner flicked the plastic latches on the sides and opened it up.

  He nearly choked. White, clay-like bricks inside the box bore the stamp of the defunct CDC Corporation’s military manufacturer. Tanner froze, afraid to breathe let alone move. Explosives weren’t his field, but he knew the Archangel Navy didn’t mess with this particular stuff. The combat engineer types didn’t like the low flashpoint. Thankfully, the detonator sitting on top of the package wasn’t inserted.

  His heart started beating again. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he looked back to the other boxes left strewn in the alleyway. One had been open before it fell; the other must have popped open on impact. The first seemed to hold only some hand tools, but the other held even more of the little white bricks.

  “Holy shit,” Tanner breathed. He didn’t have to worry about the charges blowing up on their own. The explosion he saw coming from Constable Wright was another danger entirely.

  He felt a sudden vibration accompanied by a soft beep. His heart stopped again and his blood ran cold before he realized it was his holocom notifying him of a message—the kind he set for priority notification. Tanner gently set the box down against the alley wall and opened up the call.

  There wasn’t a face in the world he wanted to see more than the one with short red hair who appeared over his wrist. She sat in the captain’s chair of her ship in her civilian vac suit.

  “Surprise!” said Lynette Kelly. “We picked up a charter run the day after I sent my last letter. We’re landing in a few minutes. You got any time for me, college boy?”

  “What—wait, this call is live?” he blurted, trying to catch up. “You’re here?”

  “Yeah,” laughed Lynette. “Hey, your nose is bleeding. You look a little… are you okay?”

  Tanner blinked from her to the explosives and the spilled blood staining the alleyway.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  Chapter Three:

  Support Structures

  “Minos Enterprises enticed early settlers with offers of debt forgiveness and social support programs. In the decades that followed, few such programs materialized. Rather than forgiving personal debt, Minos Enterprises bought up those debts at a fraction of the cost and continues to hold that debt against settlers as economic leverage. Debtors are not allowed to leave the planet. Coupled with a harsh criminal justice system and limited civil rights, this has led to a climate of poverty and discontent, including a growing insurgency.”

  --Travel Advisory from the Foreign Ministry of Fremantle, June 2280

  Liability waivers, check. Enrollment prerequisites, check. Verifications of academic standing, health screening form and waiver, check, check, check.

  Fees. More fees. Still more fees. Good thing for scholarships and grant money. Check.

  Naomi glanced out the monorail windows to appreciate the view. With summer coming on, the sun wouldn’t set for a while yet. She saw skyscrapers and trees, but not the spectacular spread of colors from the sky against the towering glass of the financial district. Her eyes turned back to the holographic checklist over her lap.

  Statement of Purpose from each student—oh God kill me now—check.

  Sign-offs on the foreign ministry’s travel advisory—ten out of twelve.

  Naomi matched the blanks in the column to the offending names. She wasn’t shocked Nigel didn’t have his in yet. It was Friday. He tended to leave things on the weekend until Sunday evening. The other missing form was Russell’s.

  She frowned. Russell was typically the most punctual about paperwork. He got stuff done early and properly. Naomi needed his ability to make shit happen.

  She chose not to stress over her most reliable teammate. Knowing Russell, he probably wants to actually read the thing.

  Logistical details were bigger concerns: equipment, scheduling, budgeting, and all the rest. The closer the expedition came, the more details Professor Vandenberg entrusted to her. Part of her appreciated his reliance on her judgment. The other part of her would have appreciated at least some review of her arrangements, if only to fix any screw-ups before they got all the way out to Minos.

  She needed to keep the expedition within budget. She needed certification as an expedition manager, and her name on the article, book, or whatever else might come of this trip, too. She needed her PhD. She needed no one to mess anything up by coming back diseased, injured, or otherwise traumatized.

  The monorail pulled up to the station right outside the glass edifice of her apartment building not a moment too soon. She needed a drink.

  Passing through Vista Pointe Tower’s lobby reminded her of progress, at least. Life in the dorms wasn’t that long ago. She didn’t come home anymore to cheap flyers on the walls of a narrow hallway and stressed-out freshmen studying on the commons couches. She had her bachelor’s degrees, a master’s, a paying teacher’s assistant position, and an apartment off campus to soak up some of that pay. Somewhere along the way, she stopped feeling less like a student and more like an adult…even if she still had to share an apartment built for one.

  The building’s facial recognition software unlocked and slid open her door as she approached. Once inside, she discarded her light blazer in the open hamper built into the wall for automated cleaning and storage.

  Adult life definitely beats the dorms.

  Her small living room held a couch, entertainment center, and strewn clothes that never made it into the hamper—a reminder that habits didn’t change quickly.

  Naomi’s eyebrows rose. When she left this morning, the dining room table had been buried in books and boxes and art that still needed a home, along with three mismatched shoes. Now, it was set for dinner and lit by candles.

  She stared at the table. You make a friend in college, she thought. You hit it off. You decide you can stand each other enough to share a place. And then she moves all your shit.

  Light, sizzling sounds, and music emerged from the kitchen.

  “You got a hot date tonight?” Naomi asked the apartment’s other resident. She stepped past the brunette stir-frying at the stove to get to the refrigerator.

  “Oh, yeah, I thought about calling to warn you on my lunch break,” said Danielle. “Sorry.”

  “You thought about it but didn’t?” Naomi looked Danielle up and down. The black floral-print dress hugged Danielle’s figure nicely. She had let her hair down and made up her face. Usually she wiped off the makeup and changed into casual clothes as soon as she came home. Tonight she looked like she wanted to impress someone.

  Danielle didn’t look up from her cooking. It smelled good. “My day got crazy. How was yours?”

  Naomi rolled her eyes. “Another day, anoth
er student with a crisis. Another hoop I’ve got to get everyone to jump through before the expedition leaves, too. So… do you need me to get out of here to make space for your date? Do I have time for a beer, or will he be at the door any second?”

  “Always time for beer,” Danielle answered. “And don’t worry, I’m making enough of this for you, too. I didn’t want you to go hungry. You’ve got time to throw a plate together and scamper off to your office with it.”

  “Where did you learn to be so considerate?” Naomi tugged the refrigerator door open and reached inside.

  She almost missed the tiny, bow-tied jewelry box propped up against the bottles.

  “I also meant to tell you I got that portfolio manager spot,” said Danielle. “I guess I got distracted figuring out how to spend the huge signing bonus. Bigger than I expected.”

  For once, Naomi didn’t hesitate before turning back to Danielle to find exactly the smug look she knew would be on her face. “What is that?” Naomi asked.

  “Hm?”

  “Danielle.”

  “What’s what?”

  Naomi grabbed the box and held it out to her. “What is this?”

  “Oh.” Danielle grinned, taking the box from her. Opening it to reveal the gold ring inside, Danielle began to drop to one—

  “Don’t kneel,” Naomi managed despite her heart pounding hard enough to cut off her voice. “Do not kneel. That is so awkward.”

  Danielle’s grin only broadened. She straightened up. “Wow, you said you didn’t like the kneeling, but I wasn’t sure you’d stick to it in the moment.”

  “Oh my god,” said Naomi, still staring at the ring in the box.

  “You like it?”

  “We were going to do this together,” Naomi answered with her hands over her mouth. It wasn’t a complaint.

  “You heard the part about the signing bonus, right? It was burning a hole in my bank account.”

  “No, I couldn’t hear anything with that box screaming at me in the refrigerator.” Naomi pulled her gaze from the ring to meet her partner’s eyes. “You want to do this now? I’m going to be away for months!”

  “Better now than when you’re off on some other planet looking at other women,” Danielle teased. “I gotta lock this down while I have the chance.”

  “We were going to do this together,” Naomi said.

  “We are doing it together,” said Danielle. “Naomi, will you—?”

  Naomi snatched the box out of Danielle’s hand, turned it around to face her and said, “Will you marry me?”

  “Oh, you—!” Danielle began, but stopped. She fumed at Naomi, grinning the whole time. “Fine. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “No, wait. You’re right,” said Naomi. She handed the box back to Danielle. “You do it.”

  Patiently, Danielle turned the box around. “Naomi, will—”

  “You should kneel, too,” Naomi interrupted, waving at her. “It’s better if you kneel.”

  “How long are you going to fuck with me?” Danielle laughed.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t have any time to plan for this. I’m making it up as I go.”

  Danielle knelt. “Naomi, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” Naomi answered. She tugged Danielle up from her feet and kissed her.

  The stove beeped out a warning. Neither of them cooked by hand much, and thankfully their kitchen offered supervisory software. Danielle turned and pulled the wok away from the heat. “Sorry, we don’t want to burn this.”

  Naomi tugged on her dress. “You really think we’re going to sit down and eat after you proposed to me?”

  “I’m sorry, did you have something more exciting in mind?”

  “Yes,” said Naomi. She slipped her hands over Danielle’s hips, then up along her sides. Her lips came to her lover’s ear as she whispered, “I have to punish you for making me think about planning a wedding when I’ve already got this stupid expedition on my hands.”

  Danielle leaned into her. Naomi savored the scent of her hair and the feel of her soft skin. It was a shame to let dinner go after Danielle had gone to the trouble of cooking by hand, but her partner—her fiancée—knew the risks when she put that ring in the refrigerator.

  Her holocom let out a low, tiny beep. Compulsively, Naomi looked at the small holographic letters that flashed over it and instantly rebuked herself for the distraction. It was only from Russell, anyway. The header read, “Field School.”

  It was probably his travel advisory sign-off. She had more important things to focus on.

  * * *

  He checked his reflection in a window on the skybridge to make sure his lip was back to its normal size. His cheek showed no bruising, either. The other scrapes on his body had at least scabbed over. Thank God for modern medicine. And for escaping injury or death—and for getting the call from Lynette before Constable Wright and the Fremantle Police tied up the rest of his night—and for getting a chance to see Lynette at all.

  Then again, he could have a word or two with God about people breaking into his house to plant bombs in the first place. Tanner’s relationship with God was complicated.

  He found the yacht on an open platform overlooking the ocean. The Phoenix reminded him of the earliest space shuttles, but curved and contoured for aesthetics rather than aerodynamics and with much thicker wings for storage space. The silvery yacht glittered in the setting sun, still wet from a post-flight wash.

  Familiar faces worked amid the collection of crates and replenishment hook-ups attached to the ship. Sanjay Bhatia and Val Ordoñez were out of their vac suits already, preferring civilian clothes suited to the pleasant weather. Val—it still felt odd to use her first name—had let her black hair grow out, though she kept it short enough to fit quickly into a helmet. Sanjay’s was still buzzed down to near stubble. He was still trim and good-looking enough to turn heads almost anywhere, but it was Val’s carefree smile that Tanner envied. Neither of them noticed his approach.

  After a couple of years on the same corvette, the two veterans had left the Navy happy to stick together on a new ship. Tanner couldn’t run away from it all fast enough.

  He felt like a hypocrite for missing them as much as he did.

  “You could share it with the rest of us,” said Val. She stepped back from the landing strut, leaving Sanjay to hold whatever she’d been helping him with. “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Like hell,” Sanjay scoffed. “It was clearly meant for me. I was the only one goin’ into that room in the first place.”

  “Okay, so?”

  “So it’s weird!”

  “What’s his deal today?” Tanner asked. Val and Sanjay turned to look.

  “Hey!” Val threw a quick hug around him. She didn’t linger, gesturing back to Sanjay instead. “We came out here on a passenger charter with some guys going to a conference or something. One of them left a tip on the bed in his room.”

  Tanner quirked his eyebrow. “He left a tip on Sanjay’s rack?”

  “Nah, man,” Sanjay corrected. He worked his hands in the overhead recesses of a landing strut full of disassembled gears. “His bed. One of the passenger beds.”

  “So how do you know it’s for you?”

  “It’s for me ‘cause I’m the one takin’ care of passenger quarters,” said Sanjay. “No non-rate types to take care of all the menial chores, so we all share the scut work. This trip was my turn. Unless you’re looking for work?”

  “I hear the tips are pretty good,” added Val.

  “How much was it?” Tanner asked.

  “A hundred credits, apparently,” she answered.

  “Yeah, and that’s the other thing!” Sanjay went on. “Was that even a big tip? How do you judge this? By the day? Cost of the voyage? It sounds big, but it was one tip for the whole charter. An’ this isn’t some short haul from one side of Archangel to the other. We aren’t a cruise liner or a hotel, either.”

  Val rolled her eyes and muttered to Tanner, “We have a lounge a
nd a whirlpool. We’re at least part cruise liner.”

  “The guy left you a hundred credits on top of the charter,” said Tanner. “So now you can’t decide if you should be upset at getting a tip as a housekeeper or if you should be upset that it wasn’t more?”

  “Well, yeah!” Sanjay slammed the gear box shut. “I’m the ship’s bo’sun, not the maid! But if housekeeping is part of the deal, I wanna get paid appropriately.”

  Tanner slowly nodded. “It’s good to see you, Sanjay.”

  “You, too.” Sanjay broke from his indignant pose to hug Tanner tightly. “Lynette’s probably still up on the bridge.”

  “Aw, who says I didn’t come to see you?” Tanner asked, heading to the gangway.

  The Phoenix welcomed passengers with cool, bright, spotless corridors. Steps to the upper deck gleamed with shining brass trim, leading to a galley that with more space could easily pass for an upscale planetside restaurant. Aft of the galley, Tanner glimpsed the open doors to the small lounge with its new couches, entertainment systems, and overhead viewports.

  He had seen greater luxuries on other ships. Yachts like Phoenix scaled ever upward in size and opulence. This one stood apart from the rest by virtue of qualities largely covered up by the paint job and the carpeting, and the hell she’d been through not long ago. Some clients didn’t want to know about those things. For others, the ship’s hidden talents and experience meant everything, as did the talents of the crew.

  “We book most of our charters based on our flexibility and our amenities, like any passenger ship,” came a voice from the bridge. “We offer comfortable accommodations for travelers who need options outside the limits of luxury passenger liners. The big ships hold to set schedules and routine paths. We don’t.”

  Tanner paused at the open hatch. He didn’t want to interrupt business. At a glance, the bridge seemed mostly shut down. He risked a peek: Lynette stood in front of the captain’s chair at the center of the small bridge, flanked by other, currently unmanned bridge stations. The dark-toned man in the suit facing her was merely a hologram.