by J. N. Chaney
Burner had a sudden moment of clarity that ended the debate. He knew exactly what needed to be done.
He slammed open the bathroom door and strode inside. Then he picked up the device and placed it close to his mouth so that his words would be clear.
“Hey assholes, I found your damn bug. Cost me one of my teeth, so I think I’m going to collect one of yours, with interest. No, don’t worry about coming to me to pay up, I’m on my way to you. Should be with you real soon. You idiots really shit the bed when you decided to force me to get involved with your little crusade. I was happily retired, content to sit back and let the universe tear itself apart around me. But you made me get up. You were so interested in my service record, well, I’m going to show you in person how I earned all those commendations. Because I’m coming for you. Each and every one of you. Oh, and whoever calls themselves the leader of this gaggle of clowns, I’ve got something special in mind for you. See you soon.”
Sara put her head in her hands. “There goes our element of surprise.”
Burner held the device up in front of him on the palm of his hand and closed his fist around it. He squeezed and felt the bug crack and crunch.
Sara watched as Burner tossed the crushed remains of the device in the toilet. “Why would you do that? I mean, I’m all for getting rid of the bug, but why give us away like that when we had worked to convince them that we were hitting a dead end?”
He smiled apologetically. “The profile I’ve been building on their leader just came to me. He’s a planner, who values being prepared and setting up contingencies. He had a need to be in control. I’d speculate that he can’t even function if he doesn’t feel like he’s in control. And people like that, when you put the pressure on them and force them to think on their feet, they make mistakes. Mistakes we can exploit.”
She looked uncertain. “But we don’t actually know where they are.”
“But they don’t know that.” He gestured to himself. “If my acting skills are half as good as I think they are, they’re going to be expecting me to show up on their doorstep any hour now. And they’re going to be distracted trying to figure out how I was able to find them.”
Sara thought about it, then nodded. “Alright, I admit it, I’m impressed. You even had me going there.”
“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t all lies.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “And which part was true.”
His smile was cold. “I do have plans for when I get my hands on their leader.”
SPACE PORT ROMEO 9, UX8, UNION SPACE
Burner and Sara arrived at the space port late that evening. By this time most of the public departures and arrivals for the day had already finished, so it wasn’t crowded. Not that it was empty, either. Those who owned their own ships came and went at all hours, and bureaucrats with busy schedules often caught rides on Union ships designated for official business. Engineers performed maintenance on the next day’s departures while dock workers ran back and forth to ensure the day’s operations had not weakened any of the docking systems.
The pair walked past the front terminal without slowing down. They weren’t here to catch a public fight. They were here to chart a course of their own, and for that, they needed their own ship. And since they, understandably, didn’t have the kind of credits required to purchase one, that left borrowing.
Or, to put it less politely, hijacking.
First, they needed to find a suitable target. It needed to be an older ship that wouldn’t have the more modern and thus tougher to crack security systems. It would also help if it was docked far enough away from the main terminals that the traffic was lighter. And most important, they needed to find one that had docked recently enough that the owner, or a qualified pilot, was still around.
They made their way down the docks scanning for a potential target.
Patrick Revalon hated his job. When he had been a kid, taking off to the stars had seemed like the most exciting thing in the universe, and even as a young adult he had fantasized about what it would be like to have his own ship and have the freedom to explore the galaxy as he pleased. So, when an opportunity arose for him to do just that, he jumped on it.
There was just one little problem. Ships weren’t exactly cheap. Even the smallest slip-capable vessels were more expensive than a working man could ever afford. That’s why they’re usually licensed by big companies or purchased by a group with mutual interests. No one was going to give one away for free, and the company that offered Patrick ownership of The McGarry wasn’t any different.
It seemed like a fair deal at the time, though. They provided him with a ship in exchange for him working for them for a few years. They also paid him a small salary while taking a chunk off the value of the ship for each job he completed until it was paid off. After which, the ship was his and he could do as he pleased with it. He had estimated when he signed the contract that he would be free in five years.
He hadn’t read the fine print. In addition to the initial value of the ship, Patrick had to pay a ridiculous amount of interest, as well as any costs for fuel and maintenance that occurred over the course of the job. He was eight years into the agreement and the ship was barely even half paid. The job also kept him away from home for long periods. He couldn’t remember the last time he had an entire week with his wife. What’s more, the places he worked weren’t even that interesting. When he imagined life among the stars, he hadn’t thought he’d be slipping between the same dozen Union worlds for his entire life.
But there was no escape. If he quit his job, they would call in the rest of the debt on the ship, which he couldn’t pay, and they would bankrupt him. He sometimes thought about intentionally crashing the ship, since the only way the contract was void was if the ship was no longer available for him to perform the work. Unfortunately, the contract also stated that if he was found liable for the loss of the ship, he still owed the debt.
He just had to face the sad fact that he was likely to be doing this job until the day he died. With that cheery note, Patrick finished docking The McGarry at Space Port Romeo 9 on the Planet Duballa. It was part of his regular route, a place he visited so often that he had a dock reserved just for him. He was jolted slightly as the dock’s clamps took hold of the ship and locked it in place.
His comm chimed with a notification as it automatically connected the local network—a message from his employer reminding him that the product he came here to pick up would be delivered to the dock early in the morning. He was expected to be loaded up and on his way within an hour of its arrival. He could have slept on the ship, but in truth, sometimes he just needed sleep somewhere else. By the time he got to a hotel, checked in, and got washed up, that left him with just a few hours of sleep before he had to be up and back on his way to the ship.
He really hated his job.
Patrick made his way off the ship and down the docks, nodding to a familiar worker as he passed by. He was contemplating whether or not time would allow him to enjoy a hot meal, and he was trying to recall which shops between here and the nearest hotel were still open at this hour. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the stunning blonde girl until he bumped right into her.
She stumbled backward and dropped the data pad she had been looking at. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
He quickly knelt to scoop up her pad and hand it back to her. “No, it’s my fault. I’m here so much that I sometimes just let myself walk on autopilot.”
The woman, whose curves made Patrick painfully aware of how long it had been since he had been with his wife, smiled as she took the device back. “Thank you so much, Mister…?”
Patrick felt his face warm under her smile. “Revalon. But you can just call me Patrick. Or Patty. Or whatever you want, really.”
“Well, Patrick, it really was nice meeting you,” she whispered, touching his arm. “I have to run, but hey, maybe we’ll meet again.”
He nodded fierce agreement. “
Yes! For sure. I’m here a lot. This station, I mean. My work takes me through here a lot. If you’re through here again, we’ll probably bump into each other. Uh, I mean, hopefully not literally.”
She laughed and wished him a final farewell before rushing off. Patrick continued on his way with a slightly lighter step. When was the last time a nice and pretty girl like that had given him the time of day?
He would never cheat on his wife, but maybe his luck was finally going to change for the better.
Sara carefully wrapped the datapad to preserve the fingerprints of the ship’s owner until she had a moment to extract them. He had gripped it tightly so she should get a good enough impression of them to beat any biometric scanners.
Burner stepped out to join her from where he had watched the whole exchange. “Women certainly have it easy in this line of work. I think if you had let him take you to dinner, he would have just given you the ship.”
She cast a sidelong glance at him. “Oh, are you telling me you have never used flirting to get what you wanted out of a mark?”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, paused, and then he shut it. “Well, whatever works.”
They left the public area of the port and entered the secured section that gave access to the docks of the privately owned ships. They didn’t try to hide their presence. There were too many cameras around, and they didn’t have time to tangle with security right now. Instead, they fell back on the most basic trick an agent learns for trespassing: simply acting like you have the authority to be there. If you looked like you knew where you were going and didn’t act nervous like you were worried about being caught, then most people would just assume you belonged there. They passed a security guard who barely glanced in their direction as they walked by.
Sara was already thinking ahead to their arrival. “When we get to Demeter, how are we going to find whoever used that ticket?”
Burner gave a brisk greeting to an engineer that passed by them. “We know what time the transport arrives. We’ll get a look at every person who comes off it and use our profiling skills to find the right one. Anyone working with those terrorists has got to be giving off some unmistakable signs. Of course, that means we have to beat the transport there.”
She looked concerned. “Is there any other way?”
“Not that I can see.”
Both of them had jobs they needed to perform if they wanted to get The McGarry in the air. Sara handled the preparation of the ship itself. With the fingerprints pulled off the pad, the biometric security systems were easily beaten. The ship actually had a fairly decent internal security system for one of its age, but fortunately Patrick seemed to have disabled most of them. He must have been frustrated with the long authorization features every time he wanted to take off. Even the AI had been relegated to autopilot features only and didn’t pose a problem.
Other than the biometric scanners, Sara had to deal with a security code panel to access the flight deck, which her borrowed cracking tool made quick work of, and a password prompt on the main control panel. According to the cracking tool, the encryption on the password was tough and might take a while. She sighed and set it to work while she took guesses at what the password would be.
Burner, on the other hand, was responsible for dealing with the logistical side of getting out of a space port with a ship he didn’t own. To this end, he flagged down the closest dock worker and stormed toward him with an expression like he’d just caught his wife cheating on him. “Excuse me! Yes, you there. Why isn’t this ship fueled up and scheduled for departure yet?”
The dock worker blinked a few times and looked over at where Burner was pointing. “The McGarry?”
Burner put his hands on his hips. “Good, you can read. But can you follow instructions?”
The worker looked around in confusion, but none of his fellows were around to give him a lifeline. “That ship belongs to—”
He was cut off. “Patrick Revalon. Yes, I know, who do you think hired him?”
“You?” The dock worker squirmed uncomfortably.
“Yes, me. And I’m the one who just fired him, too.” Burner hoped he wasn’t asked what company he represented. He had been able to profile a lot about Revalon from his short conversation with Sara, but he couldn’t guess the names of employers. “He kept missing deadlines. Now I’m taking my ship back. I called about this several times. The ship should already be fueled and with the authorization to launch by now. What’s the hold up?”
The worker opened his mouth and closed it a few times as he tried to find the words. “I’m sorry, I haven’t heard anything about that. The supervisor isn’t here right now, but in the morning—”
“The morning!” Burner’s voice boomed. “Do you know what a deadline is, Greg?”
“My name isn’t Greg.”
“I don’t care about your name. What I care about is that my company passes thousands of credits worth of product through this port every month, and yet you seem to be insistent on losing my business. Let me assure you, Greg, that if you hurt my bottom line by keeping me here all night, my company will not be conducting business here again. All our port fees can go to Port Alpha-Sigma from now on. I wonder what your employers will do when they realize the blame for losing them so much business rests squarely on your shoulders. And I will make sure they know, Greg.”
Greg turned visibly pale. “I can’t just… I didn’t hear any—it’s not even my job to…” He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. “I guess there’s no reason to keep you here all night. I’ll go make sure you are fueled up and control knows you’re due for a takeoff.”
Burner didn’t thank the poor guy. He just glared at him until he ran off to do as he was told. It always amazed Burner how off-balance you could make someone by hitting them with a string of unjust accusations and threats. The dock worker had been so flustered he didn’t even think to ask for proof of ownership.
On the ship, Sara had finally guessed the control panel’s password (IHATETHISJOB123) and had the ship ready for launch. All it needed now was fuel and to be separated from the dock’s clamping system. By the time Burner joined her on the flight deck, the first was already being taken care of by some hurried engineers. Less than fifteen minutes later, a notification over the ship’s comm let them know they were ready for departure. Sara kicked the engines into power as the clamping system pulled away the ship. A flight plan lit on the panel to safely navigate the local traffic until they were clear.
Once they were, Burner pulled up a chart of known slip tunnels and began charting their course.
Next stop: Demeter.
19
Aboard the McGarry, Dobulla UX8 Airspace, Union Space
Sara downloaded as much information about their destination as she could from the gal-net before they left coverage. There wasn’t much to be had in the Union databases as it was considered a planet of little consequence. No major trade centers, no notorious Deadlands criminals headquartered there, no natural resources that made it a target of interest. The little bit of information that existed came mostly from accounts of the non-locals when they visited.
Their accounts made it sound like the planetary equivalent of a rural small town where everyone knew each other. There were no hard numbers on the total population, but it couldn’t be more than a couple hundred thousand. There was only one major hub of civilization, the area around the port that served as a commerce district. Most of the population lived in small villages that dotted the countryside. The climate was temperate and ripe for agriculture, which was the predominant industry. Most people lived off the land and the largest communities were centered around farming.
She looked over to Burner, who was busy at the console entering the coordinates of the several slip gap points they would have to take to Demeter. “Looks like we’re heading to a real backwater. Nothing but farmland and rural folk who probably mostly keep to themselves. We’re going to be outsiders there, however we try to blend i
n.” She shook her head at the data on the screen. “An entire universe worth of possibilities out there and they chose to live away from it all.”
Burner didn’t look away from the console. “I can get the appeal of it. A quiet life, away from the noise. A close-knit community. A place that you own that can’t be taken away from you because some politician decided the spot would be more profitable as part of a new outpost. Sounds nice.”
Sara examined the ex-Intelligence operative curiously. This was the first time she’d had a glimpse at the man underneath the professional façade of measured disaffection. It intrigued her. “Is that the kind of place you would call home?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t really had a place to call home since I left the Union. Hell, even when I was with the Union, I was barely at the place I called a house since my missions took me all over. And since then, I haven’t stayed in one place long enough to grow any attachment to it.”
“Why do you do it?” She tried to catch his eye, but he wasn’t looking in her direction. “Why did you choose to become a drifter like that?”
The console gave an affirmative chime as the route was finished being set. “My retirement from the Union wasn’t entirely voluntary.”
“But you could have done anything after.” Perhaps she shouldn’t be pressing him if he didn’t want to talk about it, but curiosity drove her to keep digging. “With your set of skills, you would have made a killing in private security. Or corporate espionage. Even sales, with your ability to read people. You could have settled anywhere and made a comfortable living. Instead, you chose a lifestyle more akin to a vagrant’s.”