Rogue Starship: The Benevolency Universe (Outworld Ranger Book 1)

by David Alastair Hayden

  “So long fresh air?”

  “You can open a window.”

  “Oh, fantastic.”

  “At least you’ll have Mitsuki to keep you company. Of course, she absolutely cannot leave the apartment. There aren't enough wakyrans on Ekaran IV for a mask to work. She's too distinctive.”

  Bishop frowned. “Something tells me she’s going to hate that.”

  “With a passion,” Siv said. “Feel free to order food and anything else you need. But don't trust anyone without valid Shadowslip credentials.”

  Bishop nodded. “Sounds like you don’t plan on seeing me again anytime soon.”

  “I’ll check in on you before I leave, but I’m going home tonight. And like you, I won’t be emerging for a while.”

  “You're going home?! Won’t the Tekk Reapers find you there?”

  “No. The nice apartment I rent in my name here in the city is abandoned. I live in a hole in the slums, paid for in hard credit, under a well-established fake identity.”

  “So the guild will take me to the safe house in Wasa?”

  “I’ll arrange transport. They’ll ship you out tomorrow, I suspect.”

  “They really don’t like keeping people in their base do they?”

  “You’re lucky to be leaving here alive.” Siv stood and patted Bishop on the shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll be in touch via secure messaging.”

  “You really should warn him, sir.”

  “About what?”

  “Mitsuki, sir.”

  Siv paused at the door. “Oh, right.” He turned to Bishop. “One other thing. I owe Mitsuki for saving us. I’ll cover the money, but…she has some very specific needs. And you’re going to have to take care of them.”

  “What kind of needs?”

  Siv smiled. “Get some rest, Bishop.”

  As Siv walked out of the room and down the hallway, Bishop shouted. “Gendin! What kind of needs?”

  “That was mean, sir.”

  Siv chuckled. “It’ll give him something to think about other than reapers and the guild.”

  He eased quietly into the fifth medical bay. If Bishop looked like hell, then Mitsuki looked like an apocalypse gone wrong. A giant bruise covered the right side of her face, and the eye was black. Her nose was swollen, her hands and arms scraped. Bandages wrapped around her midsection and hip where she’d been shot.

  She was, unfortunately, awake.

  “Siv Gendin,” she muttered weakly, “you bastard.”

  He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Sorry, Suki.”

  “Not half as sorry as…” she groaned “…you’ll be once I’m well.”

  “Listen, I’ll pay you back.”

  “Twice my usual fee.”

  Siv winced as he nodded. “And I’ll buy you a new jetpack.”

  “It was custom…cost me thirty-five grand.”

  He stared at her, his jaw sagging.

  “Yeah, I’m not joking…you bastard.”

  “I’m…I’m also loaning you the use of my safe house in Wasa.”

  “I have safe houses of my own.”

  “Can you be traced to any of them?”

  “You think…I’m an amateur, Gendin? ‘Nevolence, you’re an idiot. I’d have been arrested…a long time ago otherwise.”

  “These are Tekk Reapers, Mitsuki.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “The guild can transport you to my safe house. Bishop will be there with you, so—”

  She shifted up in her bed. “The gizmet?”

  “Is that okay?”

  “Maybe…” She chewed at her lip then winced. “This place of yours, it’s definitely safe?”

  “I’m certain,” Siv replied. “Now, you know you’ll have to lay low for a few months.”

  She shrugged despondently. “Might as well rest. And I can’t run…any missions without my jetpack anyway. Will take months to have a new one built.”

  “You could use a standard one.”

  “Would you want…to do your work…with off-the-shelf equipment?”

  He shook his head. “Just tell me where to order the replacement.”

  “I don’t think…I can,” Mitsuki replied. “The reapers might trace it to me.”

  “I could order the parts and have Bishop assemble it for you.”

  “He’s good at that sort of thing?”

  “Amazing. He reconstructed a rare security drone, and it almost killed me.”

  She nodded appreciatively. “That works for me.”

  “The guild is covering your medical expenses.”

  “How gracious.”

  “You’ll be transported out of here tomorrow.” Siv squeezed a hand. “I’ll see you then.”

  He headed out, but she called to him when he reached the door.

  “Gendin, I have needs…you bastard.”

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Bishop volunteered to take care of them.”

  “Really? Hmm. Okay. That’ll do.”

  Siv smiled wickedly, left the medical wing, and headed upstairs. A driver was waiting to take him home.

  As the skimmer car pulled onto streets that were brightening with the rising sun, Siv tensed instinctively. Neither the car's tinted windows, not the secrecy with which the guild guarded their base made him feel safer. After the reapers, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel safe again.

  When they entered the slums and pulled onto his street, he remembered something important. He tapped on the partition between the front and back seat. “Wait, I need to stop at the market.”

  “Really, sir? I think you could let it slide this time.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Siv Gendin

  The driver pulled as close as possible to the rear entrance of his apartment building in F-Block. Siv grabbed the two bags of groceries the driver had purchased for him at the market. Not wanting to be visible outside any longer than necessary, he rushed to the entrance, swiped his hand over the keypad, and darted in.

  A score of teens loitered in the back hallway, talking loudly, drinking, blaring jazz from boom-cubes. Siv slipped through their ranks without trouble. Most knew better than to mess with him. He had established dominance early on by cracking a few bones. He wasn’t proud, and he hadn’t enjoyed doing it—not even when he’d broken the leg of a particularly nasty bully.

  But the Shadowslip Guild training had served him well. After the first few encounters, everyone even remotely close to his age had left him alone. Of course, it had also ensured a lack of friends. But in his line of work, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  He made his way to the central elevators. The teens rarely haunted the main lobby, and without them providing a distraction, the building’s flaws were more visible: grimy walls, scuffed doors, soiled floors, leak-stained ceiling tiles.

  As Silky always said: It was a dump, but a solid one, and difficult to flush. Siv smiled as he thought about that quote. Silky hated the place and thought Siv should throw people off by living in a luxury penthouse. But Siv preferred the humanity of F-Block. It was honest, raw, and beautifully flawed. Good people and miscreants mingled freely and somehow coexisted. It was, in essence, a mirror of himself—part decent human being, part criminal.

  Siv took the elevator up to his floor. He stopped at #1814, pressed the doorbell that didn’t always work, then rapped his knuckles on the door. A few moments later, the door pulsed open.

  A small child stormed forward and crashed into Siv, wrapping him in a tight hug around the waist. He restrained the groan caused by the pain of the impact. The child locked her large brown eyes on his face and beamed a smile up at him.

  “Hi, Uncle Sivvy!”

  “Hello, Chestnut,” Siv replied warmly. “I’d hug you…” he lifted both hands and jostled the market bags he held “…but my hands are full.”

  “Oh! I’ll take one for you.”

  He transferred one of the bags to Chestnut. “Now be careful. It’s heavy and full
of surprises.”

  She held the bag in both hands and tottered away. Three other children ran up, waved to Siv, then immediately got distracted by the bag’s contents. The kids knew what a bag from Siv meant.

  “Tell me you didn’t get them treats again,” said a stern female voice.

  Siv stepped into the apartment. It was strewn with toys and half-finished craft projects, but otherwise clean. Siv always felt comfortable here. Sadara, the woman who had spoken to him, closed the door and examined him closely.

  Sadara was a pale, wiry woman who always looked like she was three days from death’s door, despite being in perfect health. Stress could do that to a person. She gave him a light hug and a peck on the cheek, then took the second bag.

  “I didn’t get them treats,” he said.

  “Liar.”

  Siv smiled sheepishly and kissed her on the cheek. “The nutrient blocks are under their treats.”

  “Good, I was worried it was an entire bag of treats like last time. I can’t have them bouncing off the walls all night. I have work to do.” She frowned at him. “You look like hell.”

  “Well…” he sighed then winced. His ribs were still sensitive. “I feel like it.”

  “Wanna tell me?”

  “Do I ever?”

  “You did that time you were drunk…”

  “This was about a hundred times worse, and I wish I could forget it all.”

  “Damn. Want a drink?”

  He shook his head. “I’d rather not. I just need some sleep.”

  “A shot of transit whiskey might help you relax…”

  “I’d never make it back to my room.”

  “So you’re not joining us for lunch?”

  He brought Sadara fresh groceries at least twice a week. And she always made a big meal with them, usually breakfast because he’d been out all night. But they were past breakfast this time.

  He shook his head. “I’m just going to down a protein recovery shake and pass out.”

  Sadara peered into the bag filled with synth-meat steaks and fresh vegetables. A nasty frown spread across her face. “I don’t like charity, Gendin.”

  “Cut me some slack. I barely survived the night.”

  She shook her head. “Alright then, dinner at eight. That’ll give you ten hours of sleep.”

  Siv groaned. “Just ten?”

  “Fine. Tell you what. I’ll make you a plate. Come by when you’re ready. But you’d better come get it tonight. I’d hate to throw good food out the window.”

  “You’re such a hard ass.”

  “I have to be, don’t I?”

  “Talked to Alaf this week?” Siv asked.

  She shook her head. “He’s in solitary again.”

  “Fighting?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Sir, according to public records his sentence has been extended three months.”

  “I’ll bust him out for you someday, Sadara.”

  “Hell you will, Gendin. I don’t want him running from the law the rest of his life. When he gets out, I want him out properly.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “He’ll never make it out any other way, sir. Not with that temper of his.”

  “How’s the writing going?” Siv asked.

  “You should read her latest, sir. It kept me up ten seconds.” Silky sighed. “Oh, to be able to read slowly and savor a novel like you humans can…”

  “I’m making ends meet.”

  “Silky says he loved the book.”

  “That’s sweet of him.”

  “You know, if you’d let me pay off Alaf’s debts…”

  “You’re never gonna give up, are you?” Sadara snapped.

  “I’ve got plenty of money. And you’d have enough if you weren’t making those payments.”

  Sadara had two kids of her own to feed, the most the government allowed, but she had also adopted her brother-in-law’s kids. Their mother had run off, and their father was rotting in jail too.

  “I do things right.” She grinned maliciously. “But if you’d like to debate this some more, come join us for dinner.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Siv said, leaving.

  “Siv.”

  He paused at the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re a good boy,” Sadara said. “I’m sorry you’re stuck on this path, having to do what you do.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t complain. I’m lucky to be alive.”

  Siv walked five doors down to his apartment. Silky scanned for signs of intruders. Siv had replaced the power packs in all his devices and had recharged his ScanField Sensor Array while recovering at Shadow Base.

  “All clear, sir.”

  He entered, locked the door, downed a shake, and crawled into bed. He’d been afraid sleep would elude him, given all the new things he had to worry about.

  He was wrong.

  Siv trudged through a surreal swamp, the ground squishing underfoot. As the trees closed menacingly around him, the pink-hued mosses that dripped from their limbs brushed against his shoulders. Dense mists blanketed the ground, draped the sky, and swirled around him. The moist air was acrid and barely breathable. Insects chirped lethargically. Small, unseen creatures rustled through the vegetation and splashed through pools of water.

  Siv was walking determinedly toward something. He had no idea what, or why, but he had no intention of stopping. He had to press on. He had to see…something.

  The amulet hanging from his neck burned against his chest. He pulled it out from beneath his shirt. The small ceramic square, engraved with strange designs, glowed a soft amber color.

  The trees and mists drew back, revealing a muddy plain…and a large ship. He immediately recognized the design from his father's books, field notes, and videos. With those delicate spines and fins, decorative scales, and sleek, elongated shape, it was unquestionably Ancient.

  He should have been surprised by how well it was preserved, despite crashing into a swamp. Or by the fact that some of the strange markings on its hull matched those on his amulet. He wasn't though. All he cared about was getting closer: not to the ship, but to the people.

  Figures moved near the crashed ship, and two open-topped, small transport skimmers headed toward them. He recognized the design. His father had owned two like them. The skimmers stopped near Siv, and as he walked toward them, his pulse quickened. This was what he'd come here for. The faces of the drivers became apparent. Siv’s heart skipped.

  “Dad!”

  Gav drove one skimmer. And his dad’s pilot, whose name Siv couldn’t remember, operated the other. He couldn’t tell why they had stopped. Siv called out to his father again, but Gav couldn’t hear him.

  Three unmarked starfighters entered the atmosphere and dived toward the Ancient ship, unleashing a volley of plasma missiles. The ship exploded into a massive fireball. As Gav cried out, the starfighters pelted the burning mass with railgun fire. At the last moment, they pulled up and burned toward the upper atmosphere.

  The pilot in the skimmer shot at Gav, who blocked the shots with his shield and returned fire. He stunned the pilot and raced away. A few moments later, the pilot recovered and chased after him.

  Siv tried to follow them, but couldn't. He stayed rooted in place. Suddenly, the scene reset itself. Gav and the pilot reappeared, and the starfighters once again blasted the Ancient vessel.

  Sensing a presence, Siv spun around.

  His father's ghost, the one he'd seen when he almost drowned, stood before him.

  “This is where it began.”

  “Where what began?”

  “Your destiny.”

  Siv reached out, but his hand passed through Gav. “My destiny?”

  Gav nodded. “Protect the hyperphasic messiah and the priestess. Take them far from Ekaran IV. Help the messiah become what we need. She can restore the Benevolence. She can save you all.”

  Siv suddenly woke.

  Startled by something tapping on
his window, he rolled over, slipped his disruptor out from beneath his pillow, and aimed it at…

  His spider-grapple. The device had made it back home and was resting on the outside window ledge, right beside Spy-Fly 01.

  Siv set the gun aside and rubbed his eyes. The images from the dream were burned into his brain. It had seemed so real that it was hard to think of it as just a dream. It felt more like a memory, channeled to his sleeping mind by the amulet. But that was nonsense. Doubly so since he’d seen both his father and his father's ghost in it. He pulled out the ceramic square, and found it cool to the touch. And not glowing.

  “Silkster, have you ever heard of a hyperphasic messiah?”

  “Like the Empress Qaisella Qan? She claims to be a messiah.”

  “Aside from her.”

  “There are many prophecies and rumors floating about the galactic net about a messiah who will restore the Benevolency. It’s a major belief amongst several cults. But there’s no consensus on what one of them is or how they’re supposed to fix things. Nor is there verification that the empress uses it as anything more than a fancy marketing term to awe her followers. People look for hope, sir. And sometimes, when they’re desperate enough, they make things up to have it and persuade others to follow along.”

  “Could you make a file on that info so I can review it later?”

  “Of course, sir. Where did you hear the term?”

  “In a dream. From my dad. It was the second time in the last twelve hours that his ghost has appeared and told me that I must protect this messiah. That I have to take her away.”

  “Dreams…dreams are strange, sir. And you’ve been through a lot over the last day. You did nearly die, after all. Probably you’re thinking of the Dark Messiah, maybe associating her with death.”

  “I guess, maybe.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

  Siv opened the window to let the drone and the spider-grapple enter. Both automatically went to their charging stations.

  “If the reaper captain had detected either of these devices, he could have tracked me here.”

  “That’s a disturbing thought, sir.”

  “How long was I asleep?”

  “Twelve hours, sir. You should go eat. Sadara’s probably already irritated.”