by Layla Nash
“Don’t say that.” Maisy smacked her foot. “I found a clinic nearby that might be able to help, so as soon as Trazzak is done with whatever kind of doohickey we’re supposed to get, we can jump over there and get you set up. I can’t do as much as I’d like on this damn cutter; they’ve got hardly anything in the way of medical supplies.”
“Maybe Frrar can rig something up,” Jess said, though she and Maisy both winced and laughed at the same time. No doubt Frrar would be ready to try, but the outcomes were never certain with his work. Jess preferred taking her chances with a distant alien clinic than some fly-by-night engineering scheme.
Maisy sighed and leaned back. “I’m trying to keep you alive, jerk. So you have to keep fighting, do you hear me? No pity parties, no woe is me. We’re fighting. We’ll get you back to normal and everything will be fine. No betrayals and no bounty hunters. Just back to rebels and pirates.”
“Get Isla to talk to me,” Jess said. She felt the communicator in a comforting lump behind her back, still hidden in the couch. “Please. I don’t know what Vaant is telling her, but I’ve got to understand what she’s thinking.”
The doctor didn’t look convinced. “We should focus on our mission, right now, and let the Galaxos and Heisenberg figure everything out. If you’re innocent, then there’s nothing to worry about, right? So calm down and focus on getting well so we can help Trazzak get that thing from this planet. Then we can finally get free of the Alliance.”
“It’s not that simple.” Jess wished it were so clear as innocent and guilty. Too many years in the Ministry left all those lines blurred and bent, sometimes broken.
“It’s not?” Maisy started to frown. “How can it not be? If you didn’t give up the information, then you didn’t. What’s there to quibble over?”
“I didn’t do it, but I’ve done other things in the past. And I think that’s what makes them suspicious.” Jess covered her face. “I just need to sleep a bit to get rid of the rest of this weird hangover. Can you tell Trazzak I need to talk to him when he comes back?”
Maisy got to her feet and packed up the medical devices. “I can, but I don’t know how he’ll respond. He was... mad.”
Jess focused on breathing as a headache ignited behind her eyes. “Thanks.”
She waited until Maisy disappeared into the hallway before sinking lower on the couch and dragging a pillow over her face. She always knew she’d face a crossroads in her employment with the Ministry, but she never anticipated it looking like this. If Isla and the others didn’t want her around anymore, where the hell could Jess go? Bounty hunters would track her down almost anywhere, so it wasn’t like she could hide.
She couldn’t hide.
Jess went still as the blood rushed in her ears, almost deafening. She couldn’t hide from the Alliance. But what if she surrendered? Jess never wanted to end up with the rebels. She had some problems with the Ministry and had considered a career change, maybe joining the Fleet as a normal officer rather than an information officer, but Jess never meant to change sides. That choice was taken from her when the Galaxos stopped the Argo and Captain Witz surrendered the female officers to the Xaravians.
Isla and the others just assumed everyone preferred staying with the rebels.
Jess hugged the pillow to her chest and stared up at the ceiling instead. If she got the relay back, she could signal Nathan or contact the Minister himself. They’d take her back. There was no telling what price they’d make her pay, but if Jess returned willingly and denounced the rebels, she could have her old life back.
There wasn’t anything to hold her with the Galaxos any longer. She’d ruined things with Trazzak, even though she didn’t know if there was a “thing” to ruin, and the poison would kill her if she stayed away. The Alliance had to have the antidote, or at least the contacts with the Xerxh to get the treatment. The Alliance would save her life yet again, just like they had when they found her dying in the desert.
Jess’s vision blurred. She didn’t want to betray her friends, but she couldn’t betray the Alliance. Not again. The Alliance hadn’t betrayed her; only Captain Witz had. She was certain the Minister didn’t know about that kind of thing going on in the Fleet. Jess would tell him the truth, and then the Ministry could go about changing things. Making them better. She could do a lot of good if she returned, and it was clear enough no one among the rebels needed her to stay.
She breathed evenly as some of the uncertainty faded. At least she had a plan. Maybe Trazzak would return to the ship and apologize and things would change. Maybe Isla would reach out to her to reveal all their suspicions were unfounded and they’d found the real troublemaker among the rebels. And maybe none of that would happen and they’d treat her like a criminal and a traitor. Her vision blurred as the choices arrayed in front of her, none of them easy.
Trazzak
They didn’t keep drinking for long. After a few more rounds, Trazzak shoved to his feet and started to pace. There were things to get done before he could relax and tell war stories with Yurik. The other warrior sprawled in his chair and watched Trazzak’s progress. “What are you looking to do, old man?”
“Think we can just show up at the company with the weapons system and start asking questions?” Trazzak rubbed his jaw, his sense of unease growing. Something wasn’t right. Maybe it was the ship, maybe it was Jessalyn, maybe it was being on Dablon Seven. He couldn’t tell. But whatever it was, Trazzak didn’t want to spend any more time sitting still. “I want to find out the price tag on that thing and get a look at their security, just so I can explain why we won’t be able to walk away with the damn thing.”
Yurik shrugged and gestured at the door. “You want to get the rest of your crew?”
“Not yet.” Trazzak checked his communicator and nodded at the door. “They stay with the ship. You know the way?”
“Of course.” Yurik dug through a few piles of assorted parts until he came up with a tangle of wires and metal pieces. “We can take the surface runner. The company isn’t too far from here, so it won’t be a long trip.”
Trazzak followed him out of the bunker and into the vast boneyard of spaceships and surface vehicles in various states of disrepair, wondering how Yurik could possibly know which runner actually worked. Hopefully Frrar didn’t get a good look at all the tinkering that could be done among Yurik’s treasures, otherwise Trazzak would have to buy a new ship just to carry it all away.
Eventually Yurik paused next to a rusted-out bucket of bolts that could have once been a surface runner. Trazzak’s eyebrows rose. “This still flies?”
“Oh yeah. Outside might look like the haugmawt got to it, but inside is in better shape than your cutter. I’d run her in a race against any surface ship.” Yurik patted the side of the runner affectionately, and dislodged a piece of the fuselage. The Xaravian frowned as he picked up the piece and turned it over in his hands. “Huh. I don’t think we need that.”
He tossed it aside and climbed into the narrow opening in the belly of the ship, and Trazzak took a deep breath. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. He could walk. Maybe catch a surface transporter or just hitchhike. Wandering around on his own on a hostile planet seemed like a better use of his time than climbing into a rickety surface runner. But he trusted Yurik, and if the warrior said the runner would fly, then Trazzak had to believe it would fly.
They barely fit inside the runner’s much more modern interior, and Yurik started cracking jokes about how much weight Trazzak gained, compared to their days in training. He just grumbled and gave back as good as he got. Trazzak’s sense of unease faded a little as Yurik powered up the engine and the runner took off. Something still nagged at the back of his head, as if he’d forgotten something, but no matter how hard Trazzak concentrated, nothing came to mind.
He frowned as he stared out the windows of the runner to watch the landscape of Dablon Seven coast by. It was too green and colorful, with wild jungles broken up with skyscrapers and multicolored fl
owering vines. Trazzak missed the deserts of Xarav. After all of this was over, he needed to make the trip home to check on his sisters. Make sure none of the young males were getting too forward with any of them.
In just a blink, Yurik navigated the runner toward one of the masses of metal that divided the jungle, and then slowly coasted to a stop near a low building covered in satellite dishes and transmitters. Trazzak waited for the security team to storm the runner, but nothing reacted from the building or the surrounding trees. Odd. Very odd.
Yurik opened the hatch and dropped out of the runner, looking around as he waited for Trazzak to follow. “I think we can just start walking up. There’s an entrance over there, and someone there will be able to help us.”
“They don’t look like they allow uninvited guests,” Trazzak said. His elbow bumped the knife in his belt. He should have brought a stunner with him, or something for long-range defense. A company that developed advanced weapons systems but kept a low profile like the nondescript building in front of him could pose a bit of a problem. He gave up on any possibility of robbing the place as a handful of flying drones materialized from around the building and hovered over Yurik and him as they started walking to the well-guarded doors.
Yurik smiled but spoke under his breath, so the drones wouldn’t overhear. “If you have enough money, you’re always invited.”
“But you’re forgetting we don’t have enough money,” Trazzak muttered back.
“They don’t know that,” Yurik said. His stride became a swagger and his expression turned grim as they approached the security guards.
Trazzak fell into the Xarav barbarian role that all the non-Xaravians expected, and let Yurik take the lead as he grunted and gestured to go inside the building. The guards exchanged looks and hit their communicators until a Dablonian exited the building to approach. His four legs moved smoothly over the ground, until he looked like he floated, and the three arms juggled a communicator and what could have been a high-tech weapon. The Dablonian smiled and showed four rows of razor-sharp needle teeth. “How can we help you?”
Trazzak studied his nails and let his lip curl. “Heard a rumor about something you designed that needs a buyer. We might be interested.”
“We design many things,” the Dablonian said. The smile never wavered and the teeth continued to shine. Trazzak remembered some rumors about the Dablonians eating their own after defeating them in battle. Cannibals. He believed it after seeing the lifeless eyes of the bastard in front of him. “You will have to be more specific.”
He took out his communicator and flipped to the screen, pulling up the most basic information on the system the Alliance requested. He showed it briefly to the Dablonian. “This one.”
“Ahhhhh.” The Dablonian clicked his teeth together, a bone-chilling sound, and eyed them both. “Not surprised you barbarians heard about that. And it’s your lucky day — the original buyer backed out. We have a waiting list of others interested in our work, but we are taking bids.”
“We’ll need to see the system,” Yurik said. He smiled as well, showing fewer but more robust teeth than the Dablonian flashed. “You understand.”
They stared at each other as the single sun beat down on them, but eventually the Dablonian turned and floated toward the door. “Come with me.”
Trazzak and Yurik exchanged glances, checking on the drones overhead, but followed the Dablonian into the mass of metal. Inside was completely still. No other aliens occupied any part of the building that Trazzak could see, and the entire thing was so silent he figured he could have heard sand falling on the far side of the room. Yurik hid his hands in his robes and meandered after the fast-moving Dablonian, while Trazzak strode to keep up. It was the eeriest damn place he’d ever been, made worse by the creepy threat of the Dablonian’s needle-teeth.
Eventually the Dablonian led them into a pure white room with a few viewing screens, a table, and three chairs. Precise and exact, as if they’d known all along that he and Yurik would show up to ask about the technology. The Dablonian rested himself on a stool and gestured for them to take the chairs, then queued up the viewing screen to show what Trazzak assumed was the weapons system.
The Dablonian ran through the specifications on the pieces and parts of how they built the weapon. Trazzak had seen some of the demonstrations already, from what Nathan sent to Jessalyn, but it was still mesmerizing to watch how the weapons system defeated some of the Fleet defenses and provided offensive capabilities to take advantage of when those defenses failed. Yurik made an impressed noise under his breath as the Dablonian showed the trials against actual Fleet ships in uncharted parts of that sector.
Trazzak shook his head as he leaned back in his chair. No wonder the Ministry wanted to get their greedy paws on that system. They’d sacrifice Jessalyn and anyone else necessary to control the system.
The Dablonian smiled at them as the viewing screens continued to play the footage of the system at work, and rested his three hands on the table. “I am certain such distinguished pirates as yourselves can see the value in this particular mechanism.”
“Perhaps,” Trazzak said. “Although we don’t run into Fleet ships that often.”
“A barbarian with jokes. How refreshing.” More of the needle teeth showed. “It works on most other defensive systems as well. Except Dablonian ships, of course.”
“Of course,” Yurik said. He tapped his fingers on the table, pretending to ponder. “And what’s the price tag for this amazing system of yours?”
The Dablonian held up two of his arms in what Trazzak assumed was a shrug. “An exact price is for negotiation. But if you are able to purchase a Fleet Darwin-class battleship, then perhaps you are in the range where we could speak more seriously.”
A Fleet battleship. Darwin class. Trazzak refused to let his disbelief show as he studied the Dablonian. Trazzak couldn’t even argue with the price, when he stopped to think. Having that system on the Heva or the Galaxos meant freedom, the ability to travel into any sector or quadrant without fearing the Alliance or other pirates or anyone. Well, anyone but the Dablonians.
But their silence made the Dablonian smile more, though his mouth twisted in a predatory way. “I see. Perhaps you are not ready to bid yet today.”
“We have a big score coming our way,” Yurik said. “A few days, no more. It will be more than enough to purchase a battleship and your system. Do not take an offer until we can bid.”
Trazzak pushed down surprise; what the hell kind of big score did Yurik think they’d find? Even the whole of the rebellion, scraping together all of their funds, couldn’t afford that system. But he just nodded along and rubbed his chin, as if ruminating on their upcoming payday.
The Dablonian didn’t buy it for a second, and instead rose to his four legs and gestured at the door. “I will show you out. Feel free to return when you have a substantial deposit to offer. Do not dally. We have many interested bidders.”
Trazzak frowned as they followed the alien back through the still-empty building, and he paused as they reached the doors. “Has the Alliance bid on that system? I’d think they would be the only ones bidding — or they’d make sure that they were.”
“They were the ones who commissioned the system,” the Dablonian said, looking more irritated. “And then didn’t pay. It was a substantial investment for my company. We are not interested in hearing any more from those... beings.”
Yurik snorted and shook his head. “Typical Alliance bullshit. We will be in touch soon.”
“As you like,” the Dablonian said. From his tone, Trazzak was pretty sure that the Dablonian never wanted to see them again.
At least until they had enough tokens to buy a Darwin-class battleship.
Trazzak strode out of the building and past the guards, not even looking at the drones, and reveled in the feeling of the sun on his scales after the sterile metal and glass of the interior. Yurik followed on his heels, heading back to the surface runner. Neither of them spok
e until they were back in the runner and flying, out of range of the company’s drones. Even as they approached Yurik’s boneyard and the cutter, Trazzak didn’t know what to say. His hearts sank, because after that excursion, he knew they’d never be able to trade Jessalyn’s freedom for the weapon system.
And why the hell would the Alliance contract with a Dablonian country to build a system to defeat the Fleet defensive systems, and then not pay out the rest of the contract to take control of it? The Alliance had to know the rebels and half the known universe would fight each other for the chance to own such a system. It didn’t make sense. Much of what the Alliance did didn’t make sense to him, but this set of actions belied any expectations of rationality and sanity. He gripped the edge of his seat as the runner descended into the boneyard and something else fell off the wing.
The whole scheme reeked of the Ministry.
Trazzak hoped Yurik had a hell of a lot more liquor in the bunker, because they’d need it to figure out what to do next.
Jess
Jess woke as the ship jolted and rose, and she nearly rolled off the couch. She looked around her dark room, uncertain of how long she’d been asleep, and staggered to her feet. Something wasn’t right. They were already leaving Dablon Seven? Trazzak couldn’t possibly have stolen the technology so quickly. He could certainly have decided to not do anything but check how dangerous it would be, and then leave Jess to her fate.
Despite the wobble in her step and a fog distorting her thoughts, Jess reached her unlocked door and let herself into the hall. At least the confinement to quarters was on the honor system. Trazzak should have known better.
With the ship maneuvering to leave the Dablon atmosphere and avoid incoming traffic, Jess had a hard time staying upright if she didn’t keep a hand on the corridor wall. Her knees weakened as she went, but Jess was determined — she was going to reach the bridge and demand Trazzak keep her informed. It was still mostly her mission, regardless of the effect of the poison and his suspicions. Until the Galaxos provided proof of what they thought she’d done, Jess couldn’t afford to back away from completing the mission and saving them all.