Star Streaker Boxed Set 1 (Star Streaker Series)

by T. M. Catron

  The wall was just beyond her reach. Rance leaned inside and grabbed the wheel to move the hover car closer. It eased in.

  And then dropped another foot.

  Guessing that the stabilizers weren’t going to hold on much longer, Rance leaned over the roof of the car. Her legs were now inside, her body out. If the hover car fell now, she wouldn’t have time to get in or out before it crashed into the hard pavement below.

  Rance grappled for a handhold, and managed to get the fingers of her left hand around the windshield casing. She put a foot on the door, pushed herself up, and placed her other foot beside the first.

  With a push, she scrambled on top of the car as it sank another foot. Standing on her tiptoes, Rance peered over the roof’s edge. The dark spacecraft sat on a landing pad with soft lights illuminating it. She grabbed onto the wall to steady herself, but didn’t climb over. With the weight lifted from the hover car, it rose a bit more in the air, making Rance feel like she was floating up to the rooftop. Since she didn’t see any guards, she pulled herself over the wall and landed in a crouch on the other side.

  Freed from the extra weight, the hover car shot up above the wall. Rance stood, trying to grab it, but it was already out of her reach.

  Then it listed to the side as the stabilizers finally gave out. The hover car drifted downward, gaining speed as it approached the pavement. Rance crouched again, hoping that the thrust would kick in before it crashed, but the loud boom and clatter told her that it hadn’t.

  She froze, hiding in the wall’s shadow, waiting to see if someone came onto the roof. But if the noise had attracted them, they didn’t use the roof’s vantage point.

  Rance crept toward the door jutting out from the roof. She admired the sleek stealth craft as she passed it. It was larger than the Star Streaker, shaped like a bird of prey. It bore resemblance to the merc ship that had attacked the Streaker at Coru. If it was open, and she could get Solaris inside it, they could use that to escape.

  Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to pick up the rest of the crew—those wings wouldn’t fit down in the street below.

  That idea was no good.

  Rance hurried for the door. She paused with her hand on the handle, listening for sounds on the other side. Pulling her rifle around, she took a deep, steadying breath, and opened the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As expected, a short stairwell led downward. White, utilitarian light lit the landing at the bottom. Rance eased down the stairs, careful not to make any noise.

  She kept her focus on the bottom but watched her ZOD overlay as well. The tracking beacon had adjusted to show that her target was somewhere directly below—would that be two levels or one? Since Rance didn’t have a map of the warehouse, she would just have to figure it out when she exited the stairwell.

  The landing opened out onto a grated platform that branched off to numerous walkways. Rance edged along the wall until she could see over the railing. The main warehouse stretched out below her, so large that the people moving around on the far side looked like bugs. The steel walkways spanned the warehouse, creating bridges over the main room and countless small branches connecting to control stations and other closed doors. Below ran a dizzying assortment of piping, conduits, and vents. Rance gaped for a moment.

  The warehouse looked more like a factory than anything else.

  Rance crouched to look straight down. She caught glimpses of white coats and light shining off gleaming surfaces as if it were a sterile environment. Further on, crates stacked upon crates in a labyrinth of metal. At one end of the maze, men loaded weapons and what suspiciously looked like explosives into several crates.

  If all those crates contained weapons, the mercs had enough to arm a small army.

  Refraining from any more gawking, Rance checked her ZOD again. The beacon showed that the box was below her. Careful not to make noise, she followed the walkway, looking for a way down. She found a flight of metal stairs and crept down them. When she stepped off, a new set of rooms came into view. These had glass viewing windows to look out over the factory, but they were dark inside.

  The view from this vantage point was much better. Rance had descended below most of the walkways crisscrossing the warehouse. If Solaris were inside one of these offices, then she could get him out, take him back up the walkway, and out onto the roof. The mission began to seem easier than she had first imagined.

  With her rifle ready, she tried the first door. It was unlocked. Desks and holos and screens showed the activity below. Since it was mostly graphs and charts, Rance ignored them and moved into the next room. All of them were unlocked, and none of them held Solaris. Pushing aside her growing fear that Solaris was dead or had been taken somewhere else, Rance left the offices and climbed the stairs. She checked each room and found nothing more interesting than dust and more computers.

  She still hadn’t found the box, though, and when the tracker led her to a locked door, Rance peered into the small round window with excitement. The room was dark except for the glow of a light from another room. The first room was empty, but the ZOD showed her that she was almost on top of the box. She didn’t need the box, though—she needed Solaris.

  Rance looked around for anything to pry the door open, but the walkway was clean. She put her hands to the glass, looking for a sign of Solaris. The trickle of light from the back room teased her imagination.

  Small vibrations shook the walkway, and the sound of boots on steel caused Rance to look up. Two men in black bodysuits with guns slung over their shoulders were crossing the bridge, headed her way.

  Rance slid away from the door, but the walkway ended in plain view of it. She held still, hoping they would take another bridge.

  They didn’t. They crossed over and made straight for the office.

  Rance desperately looked for an escape route. The only thing she saw were some of the metal vents directly below the walkway. One formed an L-shape and turned up to attach to the wall. Rance watched the men as they disappeared around a curve. Slinging her rifle over her back and ducking into the shadows, she grabbed hold of the metal clamps securing the tubing to the wall. It was cold—probably an air shaft. Once her grip was secure, she swung one leg over the side, found a foothold on the clamp below, then swung her other leg out.

  This position allowed her to grab the supports below the walkway that attached it to the wall. She swung beneath it, hanging on like a monkey. Her feet were still exposed on the tubing, but she was terrified of putting all her weight on her arms and letting her feet dangle below. If her arms gave out, the fall would certainly kill her.

  The men who approached didn’t look her way. They stopped at the locked door. Rance watched them through the corrugated metal as one punched a code into the keypad by the door. The other man held a bag that looked like an emergency medical kit. The door opened, and they walked in.

  Maybe someone was in that room. Why would they keep Solaris? How had they overpowered him? She tried not to think about them torturing her friend, keeping him alive for sport. Somehow that didn’t fit with the mercs Rance had seen. They had wanted that Caducean Drive, and the attempted murder of the Streaker’s crew seemed more like necessary business than sport.

  Rance thought about finding a better hiding place, but dismissed the idea. They could exit the room at any moment, and she hated to be caught halfway on the walkway. It might be too tempting for them to just push her off it.

  Her arms burned, muscles protesting the prolonged work. More sweat ran down her body, and her hands turned clammy. The captain tried to shift more weight to her legs, but the awkward angle forced her arms to do most of the work. She focused on the door, trying to ignore the increasing pain in her shoulders, biceps, and hands.

  After three more minutes, the men exited the room, and Rance breathed a sigh of relief. They crossed another bridge to the other side. Before they were out of sight, Rance heaved herself back toward the metal tubing.

  Getting back was
terrifying. She didn’t have far to go, but it required her to put all her weight on one exhausted arm in order to grab onto the clamps again.

  She took a deep breath and forced one arm over, grabbing onto the cold metal with a desperate grip. Then she let go of the last support with her right hand and grabbed the handhold on the air duct. Rance clutched the metal tubing, panting, trying to let go of her fear. All she had to do now was push off with her legs, grab the walkway, and swing her body up to it.

  Easy.

  The shaking in Rance’s arms subsided as most of her weight transferred to her legs. Worried about the time she was losing, she turned and grabbed the walkway. She tried not to look down as she pulled her body over the edge. For one horrifying moment her legs dangled out over nothing, and then she dug her fingers into the corrugated metal and heaved herself up.

  The captain allowed herself a few seconds of rest before standing. Rance panted heavily, laying on her back to gaze at the ceiling. Then she had an idea, which spurred her to her feet. She hurried to the door, studying the keypad.

  Rance scanned the numbers with her ZOD, picking up the latent heat from the fingerprints. It was barely there, but the ZOD was sensitive, and it showed the five keys the man had used to get into the room. The heat was fading quickly. Rance punched the coolest number first, then the next coolest, then the next three.

  The door opened, and she congratulated herself on her quick thinking. Rance committed the numbers to memory as she crept into the first room. It looked unchanged, and she quickly crossed it to the cracked door. The white light hurt her eyes, making them water. She pulled her rifle around, using the muzzle to open the door.

  The room was small, barely more than a closet. A man sat in a metal chair, blindfolded, gagged, and leaning forward chin to chest. His arms were tied behind his back, his ankles to the chair—the only things keeping him from falling face first onto the floor.

  Rance hurried to him, lifting his head. This man’s face was different from the two faces she had seen Solaris use. But his build and height were the same. She had found her CO. This time, he was brown-haired and pale-skinned. Crooked nose. One eye was swollen shut, and he had several small cuts and bruises, but he otherwise looked okay. He didn’t stir when she touched him.

  “Roote,” she whispered.

  Solaris let out a muffled groan.

  “Shh… I’m going to get you out. Hang on.”

  He tried to speak, and Rance pulled the piece of cloth out of his mouth. Solaris moved his jaw back and forth as if it ached, and then spat blood onto the floor while Rance took his blindfold off.

  He blinked rapidly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light. When they finally focused on Rance, he smiled at her. “Hey,” he said dreamily.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m more than okay. I’m brilliant.” Solaris’ eyes drifted over Rance and then around the room. “Did they nab you, too?”

  “No, I’m here to rescue you.”

  “I don’t need rescuing.” The man didn’t look too injured, but something was off, as if he didn’t understand the trouble they were in.

  “You look like you need rescuing,” Rance said. She moved around to untie the knots binding him, wondering why they hadn’t used cuffs. The bonds were strips of cloth. Rance dug around inside her bag for a knife and cut his arms free. He fell forward, and she grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him from falling.

  Solaris hadn’t said anything for a few seconds, and his eyes closed again.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I feel great,” he slurred.

  Rance checked his head for wounds, wondering if he had a concussion. But he didn’t have any bumps or cuts. She looked back into his eyes. Despite the bright light, his pupils were dilated.

  They had drugged him.

  “Great,” she said as she rubbed his arms to help with circulation. When Solaris showed signs of being able to move them on his own, she cut the bonds around his ankles.

  “Thanks,” he said in surprise, as if he were just realizing Rance was there.

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Rance held onto his shirt to keep him upright while using her other hand to train her gun on the door.

  “I have prickles in my feet,” he said, staring at his boots.

  “They tied those cords too tight. Give it a minute.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “You don’t want me here?”

  Solaris shook his head, then stopped. “Wait, the answer is yes. I’m not sure.”

  “Okay sunshine, we’re getting you out of here. Can you walk yet?”

  “There’s only one way to—” Solaris stood, wobbled, and grabbed Rance. He snorted with laughter. “Walking is overrated.”

  Rance sighed. Solaris was in no condition to creep along the walkway and up to the roof. With the way he was struggling to put one foot in front of the other, he wasn’t in the condition to do much of anything.

  “Sit down, Roote.” Rance helped ease him back onto the chair.

  “Roote? That’s a funny name.”

  Rance gave him a critical look. “You didn’t tell anyone your real name, did you?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  Rance looked at the door again. If he had revealed his true identity, that must be why they were keeping him here. For the reward.

  Which meant that the Galaxy Wizards or Unity could show up at any time to claim Solaris.

  A shiver of fear ran down Rance’s spine. She had to get him out. She took a step for the door, and her gaze fell on a box stuffed under a counter next to more boxes—the one containing the Caducean Drive. Why had they left it in here?

  The lack of security was puzzling, but Rance didn’t have time to ponder her good fortune. She ignored the box and moved for the door.

  Solaris grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “To check the weather. What do you think?”

  Solaris smiled dreamily. “You’re beautiful.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Rance’s felt the warmth of a blush spread across her face. It was the drugs talking, she knew, but Solaris’ compliment was oddly pleasing.

  “Do you think I’m handsome?” he asked.

  Rance snorted, and the feeling vanished. “Not right now, sunshine.” She disentangled herself from Solaris. Before leaving, she turned. “Don’t leave this room. Don’t get up until you can stand. And don’t, for the love of Triton, call my name or say anything about me being here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Solaris nodded and frowned. “Got it, boss. Hey!” he said, face brightening. “You are my boss.”

  “At least you remember that,” Rance muttered.

  Rance went to the outer door and peered out the small window. The walkway was clear. If she supported Solaris, she thought she could get him back to the roof. Rance toyed with the idea of going down to find an antidote, but dismissed it. If she got caught down there, they would both need rescuing.

  “James,” she said into her handset. Something on a desk caught her eye, hidden in a dark corner of the room. Rance walked over to it. “Are you ready?”

  “We’re in position, Captain.”

  “Good. Roote and I will have to use the roof exit.”

  “Understood. Harper found a way to get you down without breaking your necks.”

  “That is much appreciated. On my signal. Cooper out.” Solaris’ folded staff had been abandoned with some old computers. Rance picked it up and stuffed it into her bag.

  “Hang on, Cap,” James said. “Someone is coming.”

  A big clattering noise behind Rance signaled that Solaris had tried to stand again. He groaned.

  “James?” Rance asked. She glanced back to the room beyond.

  “We have a problem,” James said. “Abel saw three ships fly overhead.”

  “And?”

  “He says they didn’t look right.”

  “UDFs?”

  “No, s
omething else.”

  “Fantastic.” Rance had learned to trust Abel’s instincts. If he sensed trouble, she wouldn’t take it lightly. The captain went back to the inner room for Solaris, who was still trying to pick himself up off the floor. Rance got under his arm and heaved him up.

  “Thanks, Captain,” he said. “I don’t feel so good.”

  Solaris’ eyes were less dilated than before—whatever drug they had used seemed to be wearing off.

  “Are you going to puke?” Rance asked.

  “No, sir.”

  Solaris wobbled a moment, but when he finally got his legs under him properly, he could stand without her assistance. Suddenly, the trip to the roof seemed like a solar system away instead of a few meters. Rance kept her hand on Solaris’ arm to steady him as they walked through the inner door.

  “This is where it gets hairy,” Solaris blurted.

  Rance looked up at him. “What gets hairy?”

  Solaris laughed softly, amused at something Rance didn’t understand. She turned him to face her, keeping her hands on either shoulder. “Once we get out there, there’s no talking, understand?”

  Solaris stopped laughing when he saw her expression. “Yes, sir.”

  Then he turned to the side and threw up all over the floor. Rance jumped back so it didn’t get on her boots. When Solaris straightened, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked Rance in the eye. “I feel better.”

  She shook her head, doubtful that they would get out of their predicament alive. “Come on, sunshine.”

  Rance opened the door and peered outside. The walkway she could see was clear, so she didn’t waste any time leading Solaris right, toward the path that would take them to the stairs.

  He still didn’t have good control over his legs, but he didn’t talk or laugh anymore. Rance took that as a good sign. At each blind spot, she let go of Solaris to check that no mercs waited for them. She held her rifle at the ready.

  At the last junction, Rance pulled him up a short flight of stairs. He tripped on one and fell to his knee. The sound reverberated through the metal walkways, and Rance checked anxiously for any sign the mercs had heard him.