"How many credits do we have left?"
"Five."
"Only five hundred?" She frowned and wrenched the veering ship back on course.
"Negative. Five total."
Nova turned to stare at Cal. "Five? How can we only have five?"
"The recent sabotage has left us underfunded. Based on its current condition, the fuel cell won't last long enough to get us to the closest shipping yard."
"Dammit! Are there any jobs nearby? Anything at all? I don't care what."
The view in Crusader's front screen changed from the darkness of space to a list of bounties. Nova scanned the list and her gaze caught on a bulletin for Tabryn. A lump formed in her throat. She'd managed to escape from Tabryn but it still held sway over her. If she ever went back there it would be too soon.
"It's no good showing me jobs in the Pleasure District if I can't get there! Narrow it down by location."
The list changed and she ran her gaze over it. Simple robberies or missing persons; too much work for not enough pay.
"What about that one?" she said, pointing to the third box down.
The other items closed and the box expanded to fill the screen: Two fugitives missing from the Brakenreid Penitentiary.
Nova shivered. Brakenreid was the worst prison, aside from Ankar. The prisoners were cruel, and the guards crueler. The Human Confederacy reserved Brakenreid for the worst kinds of people and they'd escaped three days ago.
"Two thousand credits. That would be enough to fix Crusader and give us some spending money."
"Confirmed."
"I want every scrap of information about them; possible sightings, their habits, where they were nabbed last time. I also want to know if there are any Confederacy activities going on in this system. Every time they've escaped in the past, they've made another attack within three weeks. I don't think they'll wait long to strike again."
"Confirmed," Cal said. His processors whirred as he scanned the Cloud for information. "However, at current usage we will run out of power before we can get anywhere."
"Crusader, power down to minimal life support."
"Systems powered down," Crusader replied, the female voice a standard for most ships after centuries of research had proved that a female voice calmed pilots.
The alarms stopped, the lights dimmed, and the temperature dropped. The small vessel would barely register as a blip on the radar of any passing ship.
Columns of text slid over the front screen. Pictures and maps zoomed past as Cal scanned the Cloud. It moved too fast for Nova to read but Cal droned out a summary.
"These are the fugitives."
Two photos filled the screen; each depicted a dirt-covered man with a cruel smile. Puckered scars slashed across their skin in crisscross patterns, which suggested they came from the Resources Sector, and they had matching blue eyes, brothers perhaps. .
"Jinks and Tiny Cupron," Cal said. "They're wanted for acts of terrorism against the Confederacy. They destroyed an embassy in the outer quadrants. Twenty Confederacy diplomats who had been exploiting the outer planets for labor were killed."
"Good on them," Nova said.
"The blast also fatally wounded four hundred innocents at the embassy."
"Oh. They should have come up with a better plan."
"They confessed to destroying a premium Confederacy starship and interrupting intergalactic trade. They also admit to killing two eminent ambassadors. It is estimated that they have cost the Confederacy over twenty million credits in the last ten years."
"They've been busy," she said, raising an eyebrow. "It's a wonder they haven't met some kind of accident."
"They have been in and out of jail for the last twenty years. Each time, committing a new offense after entering society."
"Why would the Confederacy keep letting them go? Good behavior?"
"Negative. They're good at breaking out of jail."
"If only they were better at staying out of them," Nova said. "Good. It's pretty safe to bet they've got plans. They won't be able to travel far without ID chips, so they're probably still in this system. Did you find any Confederacy activity?"
"There is very little going on in these outer planets. Either Confederacy Projects or otherwise."
"Yes, but, Cal, you know as well as I do that they don't always log their projects, especially if they don't want people to know about them. I bet Jinks and Tiny know that too. What ships have passed through here in the last two weeks?"
There were so many cameras, sensor nets and monitoring equipment set up throughout the human colonies that it was impossible for ships to move without being observed. With the right passwords it was easy to access the data feeds and find out who was coming and going. A few dollars to the right harbor-master could also reveal a treasure-trove; all ships have to resupply, eventually.
Nova's neck crawled with the thought of how many eyes could be watching her at that very second.
"Seventeen unmarked ships entered this system in the last three weeks. Five have been registered leaving."
"So you've got fifteen ships unaccounted for in a quadrant that supposedly has nothing in it? Sounds like something worth investigating. Is there any way to tell where they were going?"
"The last sighting had them heading towards the binary Galleas System. It's not far from here."
"Then let's get a move on. Crusader, take it easy and keep your scanners on."
"Confirmed," the ship said.
The engines whirred back and the ship turned towards the Galleas System. The lights and temperature control remained at low activity. They needed to focus on surviving, finding the fugitives, and getting the fuel cell replaced. Then Nova could get out of these damned outer planets and back to The Jagged Maw. Perhaps there would be enough money to give Crusader a real overhaul.
Nova relished the idea of returning to The Jagged Maw. She would give Aart the beating of his life for sending her out on this fool's mission. If he'd just kept his big mouth shut, she would never have come out here.
Wrong.
She scowled at her own thoughts; money drove her here, not Aart.
She stomped out of the control pod and into the storeroom to scan for contraband. Not that there was much risk of that after the main cargo pod was blown to pieces. Nova breathed a sigh of relief that most of her stuff was stored in a lock-box back at The Jagged Maw. Without that stockpile she'd have nothing; she'd be thrown right back to where she was five years ago when she first left Tabryn.
The ship was a mess but at least for the moment, it was a legally-sound mess.
Cupboards lined the narrow hallway which connected the control pod to the storeroom except for a thin door which led to her sleeping pod. Inside, she snatched up an armful of thick trousers and dark singlets from the floor and shoved them into a small cupboard. She elbowed her folding bed back into the wall and returned to the control pod.
She slumped into her chair and took her gun from the holster at her waist. The charge looked good.
The criminals wouldn't have been constantly in and out of prison if they weren't easy to catch. A bigger problem was the Confederacy, who didn't take kindly to bounty hunters and would be a nightmare to work with.
"Three ships up ahead, surrounding the planet, Archalon," Crusader said.
Unmarked ships dotted Crusader's front screen; their metallic hulls glinted in the light of duel suns.
"Three," Nova said. "The rest must be on the surface. Can we get past these without being blown to pieces?"
"Low engine activity will make Crusader difficult to detect."
"Good enough."
Nova tied her hair back, threw her bag of supplies over her shoulder, and made her way to the storage area. She grabbed her trench-coat from where it was draped over the engine and shoved it into her bag. In the middle of the room she stopped and pulled open a trapdoor to the lander vehicle. She dropped into the pilot's seat, squeezing her arms and legs close to her sides to avoid scraping them on the r
ough metal interior.
Glass surrounded her and brushed the top of her head. With a few button presses, the lander clicked free of Crusader. She clutched the steering unit and guided the tiny craft toward the planet.
The ship shook as she entered atmosphere and blue sky replaced the black of space. Nova marveled at the crisp, clean air, so unlike the upper-atmosphere of most of the Confederacy planets.
She burst through the first layer of thick clouds and into a thinner layer that left wispy trails through the air. The nearby sun created rainbows in the clouds which flashed colored light through the lander's windows.
"According to the Cloud, Archalon is a desert planet," Cal's voice buzzed through the speakers. "It has no discernible continents."
Brown dirt and sand stretched out below Nova, interrupted only by jagged mountain peaks and rolling dunes.
"There's no record of life on this planet," Cal said.
"So what do the Confederacy want with it?" Nova said. "Resources?"
"Possibly. Radar reports the Confederacy ships are to the west."
"Then that's where I'm headed. I'll touchdown near here and walk the rest of the way. Cal, stay in radio contact; you never know what those crazy Confederacy bastards are going to do."
The lander came to rest on the planet's surface with a gentle thud and the glass bubble around Nova retracted.
Hot wind slammed into Nova's face accompanied by specs of sand which stung her cheeks. She narrowed her eyes against the grit and yanked her trench-coat out of her bag to cover her skin from the glaring sun.
Sweat trickled down her face. She leapt out of the lander and landed in sand which skittered away from her boots. She laid a hand on her pistol.
CHAPTER THREE
Sweat poured down Nova's face. She squinted against the sun and pulled a thin pair of sunglasses from her satchel. The smart-glass turned black under the glare.
A chip inserted into her brain allowed her to communicate with Cal and Crusader. The chip picked up on her thoughts, although she often spoke out loud from habit.
She licked her dry lips. "How far have I got?"
"Estimated two days walk," Cal said.
Nova groaned. She'd barely been standing in the desert for two minutes and it felt like tiny hammers were being smashed into her temples and along her forehead.
"I don't suppose our portable food-generator is working yet?" she said.
She gazed back at the lander with its carefully-controlled temperature and shaded glass.
"Negative," Cal said. "Recommend conserving water and looking for fresh sources when possible."
"Got it." It would be just her luck to be stranded on some distant planet with no fuel and then die of dehydration. But the longer she stood thinking about it, the more likely it was to happen, so she strode away from the lander, through the desert.
Her shoes sunk into the soft sand and encased her feet with burning heat. Her dark trench-coat absorbed the sunlight and poured it over Nova's skin. She considered taking it off, but then the sun would burn straight through her and by the time she reached the Confederacy site she'd be a giant blister.
The monotony of the sandy landscape made way for Nova's imagination. She slipped away to thoughts of The Jagged Maw and the coolness of space.
"You could have called for help," Cal said.
Nova sighed. He was right. She could have called Aart or Tanguin, but she wouldn't. She'd never admit to them that she was stranded. She certainly didn't get off of Tabryn by asking for help.
"No, Cal," she said.
The heat and desolation of the desert landscape reminded her of Tabryn and a heavy weight settled in her stomach. She spat into the dusty ground but the sour taste in her mouth wouldn't go away. Nova grew up in a building that served as both brothel and orphanage and the house mother, Roxanne had told her she either had to learn to spread her legs or learn to fight. Nova chose to fight.
In the haze coming off the hot sand, Nova could almost see the flashing lights of Tabryn's casinos in the distance. She shook her head and stared hard at the ground. This wasn't Tabryn. She dug the nail of her right index finger into her left palm. She pushed harder until the pain brought reality crashing back. This was a different planet, a different galaxy; her childhood couldn't reach her here.
She forced herself to move forward, away from the lander and her memories.
Hours later, the sun dipped toward the horizon and brushed the edge of the desert in bright oranges and pinks. The wind took on a chill which lifted the hair on Nova's neck. She clutched her trench-coat tighter around her shoulders.
Two moons replaced the sun, one glowed blue and the other bright red. The insufferable, unending sand had been replaced with a rainbow kaleidoscope of crystals that glimmered purple under the mixed light of the moons.
Nova slugged through the thick sand and her thighs ached in protest. Her eyelids drooped, blurring her vision of the desert, and she tripped over a dip in the sand. Her arms spun and she sprawled forward, sand coated her tongue and caught in her throat.
She pushed herself up and looked around, nothing but desert in all directions.
"As good a place as any."
She shoved the sand away to create a hole in the ground, big enough for her to lie in. She huddled into the hollow and tucked her coat tight around her shoulders. Despite the exhaustion coursing through her arms, it was hard to sleep. Sand scraped her cheek and tickled her nose and the wind howled over the dunes.
In her half-awake state her thoughts zoomed to Tabryn, to the worst bed she'd ever found. The day had started so well. She'd spent the morning playing with the other orphans, tossing a ball made of old rags to each other. In the evening it was time to work.
She spent the evening carrying plates of food to the customers and Roxy's ladies. The food always smelled so good. Nova's stomach rumbled and she licked her lips; all she'd had to eat was a few dried biscuits. Right here in front of her was steaming meat, and chips! All of it covered in delicious salt. She inhaled, enjoying all the smells.
She put the plate on the kitchen counter and looked around. The other orphans were out serving food and for the moment she was alone. She reached out a tentative hand and clutched a warm chip. She brought it to her mouth, enjoying the heat flowing through her fingers. Salt crystals rubbed on her fingertips.
Her mouth watered.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Nova's hand snapped opened and the chip fell through the air, end over end, until it landed with a soft thud on the wooden floorboards.
"I feed you, I give you shelter, and you steal from me!" Roxy glided across the kitchen toward Nova like a cobra.
Every muscle in Nova's body clenched. Her throat closed over and she couldn't talk.
"You've been nothing but trouble. I will beat you bloody until you learn some respect! You little thief. After everything I've done for you…"
Nova's heart pounded into overdrive and she did the only thing that made sense; she ran. She sprinted around Roxy and bolted for the door. She burst out into the dirty street and kept running. Roxy's curses followed her all the way to the corner.
Nova kept running until she was as far from home as she'd ever been, to the very edge of Outer Tabryn; it was even more derelict than the rest of the planet. The buildings lay in broken heaps on the ground and the broken stones blended in with the broken bodies.
She shivered and wrapped her arms around her body. Her bare feet bled from the shards of glass she'd stepped on in her mad escape. She couldn't go back to Roxy, at least not tonight. Maybe by tomorrow Roxy would be too hung-over to punish her. Nova took a deep breath and looked around; it would be suicide to sleep in the open.
A pile of rubbish bags leaned against the side of a dilapidated building. She scurried over to it, kept to the shadows. People would be watching her and it was best they didn't see where she was going. She darted in and out of patches of darkness until she reached the rubbish heap.
The sme
ll of rotting meat flooded her nostrils and bile rose in her throat, made her eyes water. She forced herself forward. Her foot landed in something soft which squelched under her weight and spurted something warm and sticky over her foot and between her toes. She froze and clenched her eyes shut. She refused to look down; it was better that she didn't know what it was.
She moved some bags aside, tucked down into the middle of the pile, and then pulled the bags on top. Whatever clung to her foot reeked of death and decay. She tried breathing through her mouth but then she could actually taste the rot. She nestled deeper into the rubbish and buried her nose against her arm. She just had to survive the night, and then maybe Roxy would let her back.
Nova kept her arms and legs tucked tight against her body; used needles glinted at her from amongst the waste as if waiting for her to prick her finger. She shivered, who knew what disease or drug would pour through her system.
She pushed her back firmly against the wall of the building and fell into fitful sleep.
Nova's eyes flew open and she drew in a sharp breath. Bright sunlight glared above her, reminding her that she wasn't asleep under a pile of garbage, she wasn't even on Tabryn. Her breathing eased; it was just a memory come to haunt her dreams.
She stood and sand fell out of the folds of her clothes and from her pockets like dry waterfalls. She shook herself free of the tendrils of sleep and resumed her journey. She was eager to be free of the desert which seemed determined to drag back memories of her childhood.
***
Nova lifted her water bottle to her mouth and gulped it down. Machinery rumbled and in the distance she spotted the sparkle of sunlight reflected on metal.
"Cal, is that it?"
"Confirmed."
She climbed a rise and came on a hive of activity. People rushed back and forth between at least twenty ships and an oasis of trees and vines. The ships were unmarked but the clean lines and new engines meant they could only belong to the Confederacy.
Survivor Page 2