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

by David Alastair Hayden

  “I had to wait for her to climb up!”

  “You wasted 1.7 seconds on admiration, sir.”

  He climbed up into the empty garage. “Did you get a picture for me?”

  “What am I? A peepshow pimp?”

  Siv dropped the trapdoor and took a deep breath. “You’re a good friend is what you are.”

  “I’m not another young man your age, sir. I’m not a bud or a wingman or a scout or…” Silky sighed. “I’ll preserved a video clip for you.”

  “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

  “The curse of hormones will be your undoing, sir.”

  Kyralla looked around. “Are we going to wait in here?”

  Siv shook his head. “This is the tricky part. There’s a service duct between this level and the level above us where the building turns from garages to storage and office spaces. We need to climb in there.”

  “Antigrav?” Oona asked.

  “If you’ve got enough power left.”

  “Just barely.”

  “This time, I’ll go first,” Siv said. He leapt up, triggered the hatch, and climbed in. He turned around in the cramped tube and caught Oona’s hand, helping her in. She backed away, and he helped Kyralla. Then he sealed the tube.

  They crawled down the maintenance duct, going from the north side of the building where they’d entered to the south side. He opened another hatch and dropped into a garage on the opposite side of the building. He landed on an aging, wood-paneled, family sedan skimmer complete with wheels in case the antigrav engine failed.

  After the others joined him, he hopped up and closed the hatch. He stepped down and gestured toward the car.

  “Ladies, our ride awaits.”

  “It’s very…homely,” Oona said.

  “This thing?” Kyralla remarked. “We’re making a run for it in this piece of junk?”

  “Don’t let the exterior fool you. I switched out all the internals.”

  Kyralla glanced up at the ceiling and shrugged. “You went through a lot of trouble to set up an emergency escape plan. So if you say this ride will get us where we need to go, then I’ll believe you.”

  They climbed into the car, sliding into the pleather seats. Kyralla took the passenger seat, Oona the back. It was a more than spacious ride, if lacking in style.

  “How long have you had all this waiting, in case something went wrong?” Kyralla asked.

  “Let’s see…I set this one up when I was…fifteen, I think.”

  “Sixteen, sir.”

  “Back then I still thought I’d find a way to escape the Shadowslip. I learned the hard way that you don’t escape their brand of Kompel. But I kept the setup in place because you never know what might happen.”

  “So you have several more of these?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “That must take a lot of time and planning.”

  Siv started the skimmer, and the engines hummed to life in perfect working order. He hid his relief from them. The sedan had been sitting up untended and unused for several years.

  He looked at her, cringing at the sight of her face, which due to the mask was currently pedestrian and all too fake seeming. “I only work a job once every month or so, because I’m one of the best. In between, I play video games, sleep, and work on ways to survive missions. Planning is what keeps me alive, and I rarely have to improvise much.”

  “Not good with people, are you?” Kyralla asked.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he blurted out.

  Kyralla’s eyebrows flexed upwardly. “Huh?”

  He blushed. “I mean… Yeah, I’m awkward with people.”

  “So am I.”

  “So are we,” Oona added. “Obviously, we don’t get out much.”

  “Once Oona turned six and her hair fell out and her eyes changed, life got weird for us,” Kyralla said.

  “I woke up from a hundred year sleep, so I get it.”

  “All clear, sir.”

  Siv eased the skimmer forward, and the doors opened.

  “Remember to drive nonchalantly, sir.”

  “Why don’t you take over?”

  “Sorry, sir. But it’s more believable if you man the controls, should anyone look in on us.”

  Siv lowered the skimmer casually from the third floor, turned into the street, and drove it along at a normal speed on a westward route that would take them out of the city and toward Wasa.

  “When we were getting out of the van, you triggered something,” Kyralla said.

  “A meltdown.”

  “What’s that?” Oona asked.

  “It’s a self-destruct, but instead of exploding there’s a plasma coil on the bottom of the van that will overload and slag the whole thing, destroying any traces of DNA or other incriminating evidence. Most importantly, it will burn so hot that they won’t be able to get inside the garage. They won’t know where we’ve gone, or even if we were caught in the plasma fire.”

  Kyralla nodded appreciatively. “And the heat would’ve thrown off any infrared scans of the building, even sensitive ones.”

  “Plus I sent a strong jamming pulse from the van right as we left it, along with the countermeasures from my sensor pack.”

  “Can’t those alert an enemy, though?” Kyralla asked.

  “That’s why I’ve stopped using them now. It’s a careful balance to maintain. And I rely on Silky for that. Being a military chippy, he knows all about that stuff.”

  “A military chippy? Sounds like that’s quite the story.”

  Kyralla yawned. Her adrenaline must have started fading, and the medibot injection did have some painkiller and sedative in it.

  “I don’t know as much about it as you might think. Some of that information is locked away, too. All the best of my gear…” he thought sadly of the plasma carbine he’d lost “…belonged to my father. Before him, Eyana Ora, an Empathic Services agent. Dad rescued Silky and was allowed to keep him and Eyana’s gear as a reward, since Silky contained highly important information. Silky had been lying around nearly two hundred years.”

  “That sounds dreadful!” Oona said.

  “It was. I like her, sir.”

  “He appreciates your sympathy.”

  They fell quiet, lost in their thoughts or, in Kyralla’s case, dozing off. The buildings shrank from skyscrapers to two-story homes and shops, and then they were zooming along the freeway out of Bei and traveling toward Wasa several hours away.

  “All clear, sir. If anything’s following us then it’s ridiculously advanced.”

  That could only mean Reapers, and the Hornets had slaughtered them. He doubted the military on Ekaran IV had any working equipment that could escape Silky’s detection, and if they did, he doubted they’d had the time to deploy it.

  “You can take the masks off now. Looks like it’s smooth sailing now.”

  “Oh good,” Oona said. “I don’t like the masks at all. They’re creepy.”

  Kyralla removed hers and tossed it aside. She smoothed her hair back then stared at him, her head cocked to the side.

  “There’s a spot where something wet’s seeping through your combat mesh.” She jabbed a finger toward his right side. “Just there. You’re not bleeding, are you?”

  Siv shook his head. “No, my vitals are all—”

  He pawed at the spot, realizing what had happened. Out from a pocket he pulled his syringe of Kompel. It must’ve broken when he’d crashed into the back of the van. The tube was cracked and nearly all of the liquid had leaked out.

  “Shit.”

  “When was the last time you had a dose?” Kyralla asked.

  He placed his head in his hands and groaned. “Weeks. I always extend my time between doses for as long as I can.”

  “How bad’s it going to be?”

  “I’d rather fight a Reaper hand-to-hand than go through withdrawal.”

  “How soon?” she asked solemnly.

  “A day or two before the shakes start…if I’m lucky.
”

  He stared into her striking eyes. Her exquisite face creased into a sad, soft smile that made her no less beautiful.

  She knew. She understood.

  He’d just lost his life trying to get them to safety.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Karson Bishop

  Karson Bishop was a whole day past restless. He had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do here in the single bedroom, dive apartment Siv Gendin rented as a safe house in Wasa. Neither Gendin nor the Shadowslip Guild had sent him anything to work on yet, and he couldn’t remember going a single day without tinkering on several different things.

  Technological design and repair was what his race had been engineered for. And he had gladly made tinkering and restoring old technology was his life’s work. It was all he’d ever expected, or had wanted, to do.

  The grimy apartment contained only one unique device, and he had found it to be in working order and as boring as expected. But now he found himself standing in front of it again, drawn to it as he was to all old tech, even if this particular piece was exceedingly primitive.

  The most frustrating thing about the device was it provided the only access he had to the outside world, since Siv had warned him not to even access the galactic internet with his chippy for a few weeks, leaving him with this…this old piece of crap.

  Karson sighed and touched the screen of the desktop terminal, waking it from sleep. It was an honest-to-Benevolence desktop computer with a physical display and a keyboard. A CI-99/5b, complete with access to the galactic internet and all the functions of a 4G chippy, minus the neural interface, retinal projections, and personality. The computer would be fine on a ship in space…as an emergency backup system…maybe.

  Using a voice command—out loud!—he called up the Nile shopping site, then nearly ripped the horns off his head as it took two maddening seconds to load. Irritated and frustrated, he searched for high-end jetpacks. He found a number of them intended for casual recreation, and a few intended for racing and extreme sports. Most of the latter had inherent problems, but that didn’t faze him since he planned on buying one, stripping it down, and customizing it.

  “I see you finally gave in,” said a sultry voice from the doorway leading to the bedroom.

  Karson glanced over to his for-now roommate, Mitsuki Reel. The wakyran woman had blue skin, emerald eyes, spiky auburn hair, and a long, mostly human face. She had a muscled chest, a slender waist, and was much taller than him. Her wings were currently folded and tucked against her back. She was strikingly beautiful, if a little too exotic for his tastes.

  And she was wearing even less than the last time he’d seen her several hours ago, when she was getting high on Minx, a safe, non-addictive, hallucinogen that enhanced feelings of arousal. The shimmery gossamer dress she’d ordered with their food shipment yesterday left little too the imagination. And now she was wearing it without undergarments.

  “You have proper clothes,” he said, looking away. “You should wear them.”

  Her tail swished languidly behind her. “Aw, are you bashful?”

  “Me? No.”

  “A prude then?”

  “No. The problem’s that you’re shameless.”

  She sauntered toward him. “My combat clothes are terribly uncomfortable, being thick and skintight and all.”

  “You could have ordered something comfortable and modest.”

  She stopped just behind him and peered over his shoulder. “This is what I normally wear around the house.”

  “Yeah…well…” he could feel the heat of her body “…you could’ve worn your underwear at least.”

  She touched her chest. “Oh, did I forget it?”

  “You’ve got a roommate for a few weeks, madam. You should have considered that.”

  “Well, I am used to being all by myself.” She trailed a finger down the side of his head and his neck. “And I do get oh so lonely.”

  He flinched and hopped half a step away.

  She didn’t follow him. Instead she looked at the screen. “Are you shopping for me? How sweet!”

  “I was scanning the jetpacks, but maybe I should order you some overalls instead.”

  Mitsuki laughed chirpily. “You’re not going to find anything like what I had shopping on Nile.”

  “I can build something for you custom, something nearly as powerful and a lot smaller and lighter.”

  “But a big jetpack is dramatic!”

  “I could paint it bright red with gold flames.”

  Mitsuki laughed again. “You’re funny, little gizmet.”

  He glanced over, and took in too much of her form to be comfortable. Not that it wasn’t worth seeing. His entire body flushed. And…he smelled something similar to lavender and cloves. Was she wearing some sort of pheromone perfume? He shook his head. It was getting very hard to think clearly.

  She seemed to sense his discomfort and backed away. “So, how’s it going? Feeling recovered?”

  “Yes, but…um…this terminal is driving me crazy. It’s sooooo slow. I can’t believe Siv collects these things.”

  “Collects them?”

  “CI-99/5b’s. They’re antiques. And you know, the only reason they exist is because luddite communities have used them for centuries.”

  “Oh, Karson. He doesn’t collect them. He uses this as a secure terminal. Have you taken a look inside?”

  “No, it works, so why should I?”

  “I think you should look inside. Criminals like me and Siv, we use these things sometimes because we can modify them with device add-ons that work with software to enhance security and protect our interactions. It’s much more secure than using your chippy or a c|slate. I’d tell you what goes into all that, but it’s not my thing. I buy mine from the Shadowslip and then have Siv and Silky remove the guild’s spyware for me.”

  “So tech isn’t your thing…”

  “I fly hard, and I fly fast. I get people out of tricky situations. That’s my job. And I’m really good at it.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “It’s not the only thing I’m good at.”

  He gulped and didn’t ask what the other thing was. He had a pretty good idea. He shut down the terminal, then opened it up, finding a lot more miniaturized electrical components than he had expected.

  “Oh,” she pouted, “I shouldn’t have told you that. Now you’re not going to pay me any attention.”

  Karson smiled. It was hard not to pay her attention. She demanded it almost constantly. It was both grating and endearing, though he had a feeling over the next few weeks grating was going to squash endearing.

  Mitsuki sauntered over toward the couch. Karson glanced back, saw a little more leg than he wanted…or rather should…have seen then looked back to the components.

  “Karson?”

  He turned. She was sprawled across the couch, looking bored. “Wouldn’t you rather play with me?”

  Blushing, he uttered an absolutely nonsensical reply.

  “What’s that dear, I couldn’t understand you?”

  “I…I don’t think…I’ve never…I mean…I never. And you and I…we are…different and…I don’t think I should…get…um, distracted.”

  She twisted her lips into a pout. “You know, Siv owes me for getting you out. And he said that you would pay the extra that I demand.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “It’s not money that I want. I have needs.”

  “Oh! Um…well…”

  Mitsuki shot up suddenly, her spine rigid, her face tense, her eyes alert. “Karson, my chippy just got pinged by an unnamed source. Turn the terminal back on.”

  The device booted up, taking a nauseating three seconds. An app window popped up on the screen. Green text scrolled across a black background. “Bishop…Mitsuki…are you alone?”

  Karson shrugged then typed his response. “Yes.”

  Mitsuki slapped him on the shoulder. “You should have asked who it was first and then attempted to verify.”
<
br />   “Oh, sorry!”

  “Open up an app called Antique Calculator and ask him for an equation.”

  What followed was a long string of numbers, letters, and symbols. Karson tried to copy and paste them over, but that didn’t work. He typed them all, double-checking that he’d entered them correctly. The answer it gave him was 111.

  “That’s him. Reply with 222.”

  Karson did, and a moment later, Siv’s face popped up onto the screen. He was riding in a skimmer of some sort, zooming down the freeway, the countryside flashing by.

  “Bishop,” he said. “Mitsuki.”

  Siv’s eyes drooped with exhaustion, yet there was something apprehensive about his voice and movements.

  “I take it you’re signal jamming on your end?” Mitsuki said.

  Siv nodded. “Did you check the apartment?”

  “All good,” Mitsuki said. “By the way, you did a great job shielding this place.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know, she nearly killed me,” Karson said. “We combed this place over for an hour as soon as we got here, even though I desperately needed rest.”

  “You can never be too careful,” Mitsuki said.

  “You haven’t seen the sorts of things he makes,” Siv said, “or else you’d understand he doesn’t know the concept.”

  “Oh,” she clapped her hands together, “then he is just the person to build my new jetpack.”

  “Mitsuki,” Siv said earnestly. “I just saw your breasts bounce.”

  “Oh, Siv, you little devil.”

  “No, I mean I saw them. Put some clothes on. You’re going to give Mr. Bishop a heart attack.”

  Mitsuki blew a raspberry at him.

  Karson snorted. “What do you need?”

  “Help, and a lot of it.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Mitsuki said.

  “We both will,” Karson added.

  “Are you being watched?” Siv asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Karson replied.

  “Not regularly,” Mitsuki answered. “But the pizza cog and the grocery delivery guy are both Shadowslip agents keeping tabs on us.”

  “They are?” Karson asked in surprise. “Even the cog?”