Far From Home: The Complete Third Series (Far From Home 16-19) (Far From Home Box Set Book 3)

by Tony Healey

  "Cause none of you can keep up," she said. "And sometimes it's the only fun a girl can get."

  "Wouldn't exactly call you a girl, meself . . ." Punk muttered under his breath. If Barbie heard, she made no sign.

  "Where's Kalar?"

  Punk thanked the barman, lifted his drink and took a swallow of the whiskey. "Ah, that's good," he said. "Kalar's gone to the spa. Somethin' about gettin' he's self steamed. I don't know. Long as the bloke's back in the pilot seat on time, wot's it matter, eh?"

  "So, you thought you'd come have a drink with me," Barbie said.

  Punk shook his head. "No. I thought I'd 'ave a drink. You just 'appened to be 'ere."

  "Smooth."

  "Look, Missus, you havin' a drink with me or not?" Punk asked. He patted the stool next to him.

  Barbie sighed, settled onto it slowly – she'd had enough experience of such furniture collapsing under her in the past to know better than to throw herself on – and let Punk order for her.

  "Another for me, and the same for the lady," Punk said. The Alpor's eyes shifted to the rest of the money on the counter. "What you goin' to do with that?"

  Barbie regarded it for a moment, looked at the comatose officer across the bar, slumped in a chair. His friends were attempting to rouse him with a black coffee.

  "Hey, barkeep," Barbie growled. "When that idiot wakes up, tell him the rest is his. He earned it."

  The man shrugged. "Will do."

  Punk tutted next to her.

  "What? I thought you'd agree with me doing the right thing for once!"

  The Alpor shook his head. "I'd o' respected the decision more if you'd taken our bleedin' drinks out of it! Mantipors . . . tearing limbs off one minute, and acting the good samaritan the next. I can't keep up!"

  Barbie drank. It was good. "Where'd you get a taste for this stuff anyway, you little hairball?"

  "Says the walkin' talkin' shag pile next to me."

  Barbie growled.

  "Human colony back 'ome. Learned me English there, so I did. I guess the taste for whiskey just sort o' followed."

  "Huh."

  "Anyway, how come you always drink 'em under the table, eh? Wot's the secret?" Punk asked.

  Barbie leaned closer. "Booze doesn't affect me like that. All it makes me want to do is pee."

  Punk's eyes widened in surprise. "For real?"

  She nodded.

  "You need one now?"

  "I can hold it."

  "Sure?"

  "Look at me. I've got a big bladder. Now drink up small fry. I'm not stopping till you've started singing," Barbie said.

  "So . . . our little, you know . . . dispute, earlier . . ."

  She patted him on the back. "Done and dusted. I hope."

  Punk lifted his glass, chinked it against hers and tossed the lot down his throat with a grimace. "That it is, love."

  * * *

  Broke, broke, broke. Captain Shaw left the casino, his pockets as empty and deflated as his spirit. Wasn't that always the way? He bet hard because he enjoyed playing hard. He liked taking the risk, the gamble, flirting with the danger to see if he could come out on top the other side of it. But with each round with his demons it only seemed to get worse.

  He'd always enjoyed a gamble, had always enjoyed the thrill of throwing money at chance to see if Lady Luck could turn a modest sum of money into something far more substantial. But when all was said and done, it was like taking Star Salts on a regular basis – you got hooked. You got so you couldn't go a long time before you felt the burning need to do it again. It got so bad you'd do anything – anything – to gamble again. No matter who got hurt along the way.

  Shaw looked back at the sign over the door. He felt the pang of regret that always seemed to hit him right in the chest afterward. Guilt, too. How many credits had he thrown the casino's way? A small fortune.

  And what's there to show for it? he wondered. Just an ever-increasing debt to the galaxy's most notorious organised crime outfit, The Open Fist. One he couldn't pay, not in a million years.

  Oh, he thought. What am I going to do? I'm broke, broke, broke. Broker than a starship missing a Jump drive.

  He couldn't help but chuckle. Debt was just a number to him. The misery that the roulette wheel had wreaked on his personal life over the years was but a series of misfortunes, unconnected to his addiction.

  No one understood how hard it was to give up. Unless they understood the buzz of trying to win, then argument on the matter was a moot point. There was nothing to discuss. Every relationship he'd ever had seemed to dissolve in a bitter fog of misunderstanding and frustration.

  Didn't those women – the lucky ones who got away – know of his struggle?

  Shaw stood against the railings along the upper deck of the promenade and looked down, deep in thought. Wondering how he'd pay his debt to The Open Fist. Wondering why he wasn't capable of having money in his pocket and keeping it there. He was reflecting upon such matters when he felt the blunt end of a weapon pressed into the small of his back.

  "No sudden movements," a voice warned him. "Nice and easy. Step back, no turning around."

  "Don't you have anything better to do? Like hold up a kid somewhere for his lollipop?" Shaw spat.

  "Round back. No more talking."

  Shaw went to the right, slow as could be. A long space between two of the business modules led behind them to an area for storage purposes. Shaw went first, the alleyway narrow until he emerged into the bigger storage space.

  "That'll do yer. Turn around," his assailant commanded.

  Shaw did as he was told. The alien had a heavy pistol in one hand and a short pain stick outstretched in the other. "You always carry two weapons?" Shaw asked.

  He watched as the alien slipped the pain stick into a holster down his left leg. "Not always. Heard yer quite the roughneck."

  Shaw couldn't deny it. "There might be some truth to that, yeah."

  "The boss is mighty upset."

  "Yeah, well . . ." Shaw mumbled. "I'm worth the price he's slapped on my head, and he knows it. I've been known to be a high roller."

  When? When was I ever considered one of those?

  The Vibion lifted his pistol. Captain Shaw thought he saw regret there on the alien's face, though he could've been mistaken. Whatever it was, it was only a glimmer.

  "Yer bounty's as good for dead or alive," he said. "I figure ya'll be easier cold."

  "Yeah?" Shaw said, readying himself, more than aware of the pistol pointed at him. "Gotta kill me first."

  Shaw stepped in close, at the same time lifting the pistol. The Vibion male fired reflexively but it went up in the air. Shaw kept hold of the gun barrel, as did the alien. Shaw slammed his right knee into the creature's sternum. The breath went out of it with a hiss. He grabbed the back of its jacket and made short work of throwing it forward, onto the ground. The pistol clattered away.

  Shaw delivered a few sharp kicks to the Vibion's side, and thought he heard something crack. Whatever the case, the alien now lay curled up in the dust and dirt, trying to breathe.

  He put his boot on the side of its head. "Tell them to send a professional next time. Not a two-bit crook. Tell them whoever it is better be good. Because if I survive another hit I'll come see them myself."

  "Garrr . . ." was all he got in reply.

  Shaw lifted an eyebrow. "I'll take that as an affirmative," he said with a smirk and stalked off. He passed the pistol on his way and made sure to kick it out of sight.

  Damn amateurs, he thought.

  3.

  Will led Jessica through the ship by the hand. It should have felt awkward. Unreal, perhaps, to lead an old flame around like that.

  But there it was. It didn't feel strange. His hand, bigger than hers – his skin rough to the touch – didn't feel out of place around hers.

  As much as it seemed natural, it hadn't left the back of his mind the way in which their passion for one another had returned so quickly.

  "Here's t
he crew's quarters. As you can see, there's barely room for a bunk and some shelves. There's a communal shower and head. It's not ideal, but there it is."

  They continued on.

  "Go on, have a nose," Will invited her as they arrived at the bridge. He stood to one side at the door so she could walk in.

  A viewscreen extended from one side to the other, a curved sheet of glass. A helm console down the front, a station for weapons and tactical to the left. Sciences and communications on the right. In the centre, the captain's chair.

  "Small, but perfectly functional. I take it you have three up here, plus the Captain. Two more in the back, with the engines and reactor."

  "Correct. It's pretty simple. She's not a complicated ship, to be honest. The viewscreen is the latest display. A prototype. She's packing weaponry you've never heard of, Jess. I can't even tell you what some of them are, they're so far above your security clearance," he said.

  "Wow," she said, eyes wide. "So even the tech on a classified ship is classified."

  "I man the weapons and tactical. We've got a great guy, he's called Kalar. You know, a Xantian. He flies. The advantage to him is that he never sleeps because, you know, the Xantians . . . well, they just don't. And he has six arms, so controlling the helm is a piece of cake. I don't think the Union has a better pilot," Will told her.

  "A Xantian pilot. Makes sense," Jessica nodded.

  "Come on, let's get to the engineering room. I want you to see something."

  * * *

  It was as small and cramped as the bridge. He could see Jessica's attention was drawn to the furious light emitted by the Spectre's reactor core. It sparkled and shimmered, emitting a deep yellow glow from the observation windows to either side of it. To the casual observer, the core might have looked like a simple column in the middle of the room but for the pipes leading away from it at the top.

  "And this," Will said. He took her to the far end of the room. A unit stood dark against the wall, showed no sign of life at all.

  "Know what it is?"

  "Is that your Jump drive?"

  He nodded.

  "Obviously I recognise the tech, but I've never seen one like that. You say she gives you nine Jumpquarts?" Jessica said with a shake of her head.

  "Yep. What does the Defiant do?"

  "I think between four and five, depending."

  "So whatever journey you make, we'd do the same in half the time. In fact, we could theoretically fly to your destination and back again in the time it took you to get there," he said with no small amount of smug pride at serving on such an advanced ship.

  "All right, don't rub it in," she said with a smirk. "I already feel outdated."

  "Trust me, every ship in the Union is, compared with some of the stuff we've got on here," he said. "This new tech, some of it you won't start seeing in Union ships for another couple of years."

  They left the engineering room. "Where's the rest of the crew? Are you on here by yourself?"

  "I'm afraid so," he said. "They like to get out and about when we moor up anywhere. A regular bunch of sightseers, that lot. Roughneck tourists," Will said.

  Jessica stopped. "So we're alone?"

  "Yeah . . ."

  Jessica moved in close. "Then there won't be anyone to see us do this, will there?"

  She didn't wait for him to respond. Her mouth found his, her tongue caressing his, her hand at the side of his face, then the back of his neck.

  He broke it off. Looked deep into her eyes. "Jess, where's this going?" he asked, searching her blue eyes for anything that might indicate where he stood.

  "I don't know. Why don't we see what happens?"

  "Yeah. Sounds good to me," he said, and meant it.

  * * *

  "Damn slug," Barbie muttered under her breath. "I could go faster with both legs shot off . . ."

  "Shh!" Punk hissed.

  Kalar slithered along beside them. "What did you say Barbie? Sorry I didn't catch it."

  The Mantipor went to speak but Punk cut in. "She was just sayin' how nice it is to get off the ship for a change. You know, stretch our legs."

  "Or leg," Kalar said.

  Barbie looked down at the Xantian. "That's a leg?"

  "Oh, it's been a pleasure. That full body massage is not to be missed," Kalar said, voice thick with reverie.

  "I bet," Barbie said.

  "They cleansed every mucous gland. You wouldn't believe what I can accumulate over the months . . ."

  Punk peered up at the Mantipor and swallowed. "Is that right, eh, mate?" he asked feebly.

  "Next time I'll get you to come along," Kalar said. "You'll be astonished by the amount of fluid they collect from this humble body. It's quite something . . ."

  "Kay, I think that sounds right up his alley," Barbie said and started to laugh.

  The Alpor's expression made her chuckle all the more.

  * * *

  Will walked Jessica to the airlock and kissed her one last time.

  "I really must go," she said. "I need to break some news to my crew."

  "What sort of news?"

  "The kind they won't want to hear," she said. "Will I see you again?"

  "I'd like it if you did," he said.

  There was something in her face, her expression, but he couldn't decipher what it was. "I really wish we'd stayed in touch. I don't know why we didn't."

  "It's just the way it was," Will said. He reached up, pushed a lock of hair away from her face. "But that doesn't mean it has to be that way now, Jess."

  He gave her a soft kiss on the lips, nice and tender. She turned and left and he watched the hair cascading down over her shoulders, admiring the way she walked, her perfect derriere. Will Ardai watched every inch of her as she left him and slowly, regretfully, he backed into the Spectre.

  * * *

  It took long enough, but eventually Barbie, Punk, and Kalar arrived back at the Spectre. Captain Shaw was close behind.

  "Come on guys and girls, we've gotta get this wagon prepped!" he said as he blazed past them into the airlock.

  "What's got into you?" Barbie grumbled.

  "Well," Shaw said. "Had myself an unpleasant encounter with an assassin working for The Open Hand. I came on top this time, but I'd rather not stick around to see if there's another."

  "They turn up here, I'll tear 'em apart," Barbie said.

  Shaw patted her on the arm. "I know you would, Barb. It touches me."

  "I'm goin' to spool the reactor an' run me checks," Punk said, walking off.

  Kalar trundled past, headed for the bridge. "Pre-flight sequence?"

  "Yes," Shaw said. "Get her ready to fly."

  "Where are we going?" Barbie asked the Captain.

  "A little dump of a planet called Outland," Shaw said. "We've gotta find some missing soldiers."

  "Soldiers?" the Mantipor asked, surprised.

  "Yeah," Shaw chuckled. "Cool, huh?"

  * * *

  "She's here sir," Will said.

  The Captain came to stand next to him at the security monitor. "Don't let her in. I'll go out to speak with her."

  "Well, I was hoping–"

  "Kid, take it from me. It's best not to overdo it. Let her have a little space from you, see if it's still there when you see her again, you know? I couldn't tell you the amount of relationships I've screwed up in the past because I came on too strong."

  "Hmm . . ." Will sounded unconvinced.

  "Trust me," Shaw said.

  "Maybe you're right."

  "Let's get on with this assignment, then get back in touch with her. You'll be able to tell if she's really interested in you then. I assume you are in her?"

  Will nodded. "Sure."

  "Well then."

  * * *

  "So as you can see, Doc, it's a touchy thing," Shaw said in hushed tones. He'd just explained to Dr. Clayton the issue they were having with Barbie's increasingly aggressive mood swings.

  "All a hormonal issue, I'm sure," Clayton said
. "You could try administering her two Kovolax a day; that might help."

  "Kovolax? Where will I get that from?"

  The Doctor chuckled. "It'll be in your medicine store. All ships are required to carry a certain amount of drugs, including Kovolax."

  "Gentlemen, when we're finished discussing the chemical make-up of female Mantipors . . ." Jessica handed Shaw a data tablet. "This is everything the Doctor could remember. Should cut you a few corners."

  Captain Shaw scanned through the information on it.

  "Thanks, this will come in handy," he said. "That gives us a name and a face to track down when we get there."

  "Well, whatever I can do," Clayton said. He dismissed himself, and Jessica watched him go.

  "That could be the lead that breaks it for us," Shaw said. "You've saved us a lot of work hunting down the witnesses."

  "Yes, I thought it might come in handy," she said. They stood outside the airlock. On the other side, the Spectre stood prepped for departure. "Is Commander Ardai not about?"

  "I'm afraid not. We're about to go. Did you, uh, want me to pass something onto him?" Shaw asked.

  "Oh no. Just tell him . . . tell him I'll be in touch," Jessica said.

  "Uh huh," Shaw said. He gave his thanks once more, then bade her farewell. "I'll keep you posted, Captain."

  "Thanks," she said.

  Captain Shaw went back inside the Spectre. He stood next to Will at the security monitor, and they watched as she lingered there a moment. It looked like she wanted to barge her way onto the ship.

  "That there is a good woman, kid," Shaw said. "Oh yeah. I tell you she's got balls?"

  Will cocked an eyebrow. "I know from personal experience she doesn't."

  "You know what I mean."

  The Captain walked off but Will remained where he was a few seconds longer, looking at Jessica as she stood there, no doubt feeling the same influx of emotion he was.

  "See you, Jess," Will whispered and headed for the bridge.

  * * *

  Kalar disengaged the airlock, teased the thruster controls to ease the Spectre away from the revolving hull of Station 6.

  "When you're ready, Kay. Nice and easy does it," Shaw said.