Gambit of Dares: An Interstellar War Story (The Essence Wars Book 2)

by Paul Heingarten

  Gambit of Dares

  by

  Paul Heingarten

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, events and situations in this book are purely fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright ©2020 Paul Heingarten

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decatur Media

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  www.decaturmedia.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  The Essence Wars Series

  About the Author

  Other books by Paul Heingarten

  Keep up with Paul Heingarten

  Chapter 1

  Ket Durban was almost out of time. The bridge of his ship, the Crimson Lance, rocked back and forth with the blasts of exploding weapons fire outside. To his right, his robot co-pilot W915 relayed the latest damage from the ship systems.

  "Rear deflector shield at 15% capacity. Are you going to do something before we get obliterated?"

  "Working on it, Dub." Ket eyed the radar scopes that showed his pursuer, a squadron of Railen fighters. They swarmed about his ship and took random shots at his hull.

  Saying things hadn't gone quite as expected was an understatement, but as of late for Ket it was more of a normal. He'd been on a smuggling run for the gangster Osten Chavis, and while he got his agreed upon haul, in the process he and Dub were spotted by a Railen patrol all too willing to make him pay for his theft with everything.

  "Status on the transient warp drive, Dub!" Ket bellowed as the ship buffeted wildly. Sparks flew from the control board.

  "95% charged. You might want to know, if they hit us one more time in the hull, we're done for."

  Never one to wade into a dangerous situation without at least one ace, the transient warp drive had filled the bill for Ket on more than one jaunt. The sophisticated nature of the warp gave the cunning an extra edge over those capable of tracking a standard warp drive, making transient warp a choice option of those who wanted to remain gone from their pursuers.

  Ket's eyes stung with sweat. The Railen weren't known for backing down, and given the cargo he'd just stolen, being vaporized would've been about the nicest outcome for him.

  Ket swung the ship in a corkscrew arcing maneuver. It slowed the Railen ships down a bit, but only for a few seconds. He'd been in close calls before, but this one wasn't looking good for his survival.

  "Divert remaining shield energy to the transient drive, Dub."

  "Say again? It sounded like you asked me to remove our shields."

  "That's what I said; do it. Give me a go when transient is at 100%."

  Another pop sounded outside, and the ship console coughed a bit of black smoke. Ket swung the ship wildly to avoid the piercing laser blasts, each of which begged to be the one that sliced the hull of the Crimson Lance and ended its existence once and for all.

  "Transient warp drive 100 percent," W915 sounded.

  Ket wasted none of the seconds they had left. He flicked the release on the transient warp drive and activated the engage lever. The Crimson Lance shuddered for a moment, then the ship was surrounded by swirling trails of light as the ship quickly slipped into the transient warp layer and left their pursuers shooting at empty space.

  #

  The forward view of the Crimson Lance changed to peaceful space, with a large system in the near distance. Ket looked at the bluish and red ball for a few moments.

  "Dub, get our location from the onboard system."

  Dub's robotic appendages went to work on the ship computer; multiple arms typed and manipulated holographic controls with no response other than assorted beeps and a glow on the console. As a 900 series robot, Dub was versatile in operating onboard ship systems for the Crimson Lance, not to mention hijacking the computers of other star craft. While a 900 was in demand for the massive amount of tasks the UA handled regularly, for a smuggler who sometimes needed a quick save for survival, the 900 was more than just a handy asset to have around.

  "Approximate location is 17th sector of Quadrant 45, approximately 200,000 light cycles from our last position."

  "Hmm, far enough from the Railen for now. How close are we to the Wenzo system?"

  Dub worked the computer again for a few moments. "Approximately 2500 miles. Based on present fuel capacity, estimate three hours best possible speed."

  "Lock us in; we gotta get somewhere with fuel first thing, even if we coast there on space wind."

  Wenzo system was home port for a lot of smuggling types. That factoid wasn't exactly what would've been on a brochure for tourists frequenting the system, but the nefarious and shrewd knew well enough that if you're any kind of decent smuggler, you'll find a good amount of trade on Wenzo somewhere; just don't tell anyone or it’s your ass.

  While Dub locked in the necessary course for their trip, Ket launched himself up from his seat to stretch a moment. Time to think wasn't something he always had luxury for, and he figured he best collect his thoughts on what went wrong, and more so, what he was going to tell Osten Chavis when they met again, at least about the haul.

  Ket headed to the cargo hold to view his stash. Thankfully, as close as he and Dub had come back there to buying it, their payload was left unscathed. Ket plopped himself on an empty crate in the corner and watched their cargo: ten reactor cores. They glowed with a brilliant yellow hue that was only dimmed by the protective casing enough not to be blinding. The cores were essential for a lot of things that included starcraft travel but also rudimentary power generation. In a Galaxy choked for energy, cores like the ones Ket had were way better than gold.

  The job had gone OK for a while. As Ket would've put it, he and Dub had creatively inserted themselves into a Railen depot and liberated a few of their power generation inventory in the name of freeing inventory space. He laughed at how simple that part was, and he thought about how Chavis had shown him how to do it. The man was like a father figure to Ket, closest as he'd had anyway. Ket's real father wasn't a favorite topic of discussion, and the mere mention of him was known to provoke a pretty ugly reaction in Ket. Ket hadn't seen him in cycles, and he liked to believe his father was long dead. That was his hope, anyway.

  Ket proceeded to the galley to see what rations were left. The typical job they went on included a meager supply of what they needed to finish the work, so things were near empty, but Ket figured a quick supply run at Wenzo would do the trick once he settled up with Osten.

  After he had some food, Ket settled into a lounge chair near the galley. He'd nestled himself in and started drifting out of consciousness when the ship overhead comm burst to life with Dub's voice.

  "Course plotted for the Wenzo system. Are you going to lie on your ass the whole way there and make me monitor everything?"

  A yawn escaped Ket as he answered, "Yes. Keep an eye on the scope for any nasties. I'm grabbing a power nap. Wake me if there's trouble."

  Ket drifted to sleep with visions of his payment and some pretty rude comments about himself from Dub.

  Chapter 2

  Ket's slumber was invaded by the sound of an echoed electronic voice. What it said was muffled at first, but soon the words became clear and were pun
ctuated with gentle shoves. Finally, Ket's eyes opened into the face of Dub.

  "We're here."

  Ket flung his arms about in an attempt to stretch. "You could've let me sleep a little more; I was having a good dream."

  "I hardly think so. I've pulled into the fuel repository. They're a little backed up. We must leave it for now; ready in approximately two Wenzo hours."

  Ket nodded and swiped a hand over his face. "Fair enough. I'm gonna get a drink. Wanna join? For the change of scenery?"

  "I suppose." Dub's lower half reconfigured itself through a series of whirrs and clicks until a set of wheels appeared, and they headed off ship.

  The town of Marwen on the Wenzo system wasn't much of a town—more of a collection of shanties and markets strewn together like a load of dirty laundry. The fuel depot was a popular spot, but also well frequented was the Dark Passage, equal parts dive bar, greasy spoon, and arguably the best place in Ling Galaxy for a troublemaker who wanted an ample supply of mischief.

  Ket and Dub pulled up to the bar. While Ket got the attention of the barkeep, Dub adjusted his system to scan mode. It was a familiar practice for the robot, as historically Ket needed Dub's help on more than a few occasions in a scuffle. Dub always had handy a stat on the number of times Ket's scuffles were Ket's own fault, but Dub knew better than bothering Ket with facts Ket wasn't ready for yet.

  Ket swung back around and watched the scene with Dub. It was an average crowd; the tables around the room were filled with collections of the typical bad sorts. Space pilots bragging about their latest blockade run, waitresses navigating the room and the wanton gropes from patrons in a mixed state of hungry, thirsty, and horny. A few other robots were around as well, since there wasn't any such thing as being too careful in a place like the Dark Passage.

  "You sure the hold is secure, right?" Ket asked.

  Dub's head swiveled slowly to look right in Ket's eyes. "Of course it is. What do you think I did while your lazy ass slept?"

  "Hey, this is a big haul for us; excuse me for being a little paranoid."

  "You might help that paranoia if you don't speak too much about that in a public place then."

  Ket smirked and swallowed a gulp of his drink. He was about to ask Dub about any ship repairs when Ket heard a familiar voice to his left.

  "What's up, asshole?"

  Sidewinder flashed Ket and Dub a cocky smirk as he plopped himself down next to Ket. A bottle in one hand, he swiped his other through his mane of thick black hair. "So, whatcha got goin on?"

  "None of your damn business, jerkoff. The hell you doing here, anyway?"

  "Chilling, scouting out hauls, the usual." Sidewinder cast a look around and spat.

  Ket and Sidewinder had known each other since their childhood as part of Osten Chavis’ collection of lost children, an orphanage cum criminal enterprise where the most forlorn of young minds that ached for the love and protection of parents found instead a calling in the lucrative and adventurous field of thievery. Osten cared for them, and in return for the majority of the take from the kids' respective heists, they were given a place to live, food and the basics, and someone who they referred to as Papa Chavis.

  Once he finished his manual and somewhat inebriated assessment of their fellow scumbag patrons, Sidewinder nudged Ket's shoulder. "So, how much did ya get?"

  "Whatdya mean?"

  "Ket, cut the crap. You’re the best person ever to play poker with 'cause you can't lie to save your right arm. You got that twinkle going on in your eye. Unless you and Dub here just had a quickie behind the bar, I bet my right nut you just busted out a big score. Come on, man, out with it. We know it's going to Papa Chavis anyway."

  Ket sighed. Though Sidewinder was for all purposes a brother to him, the endless competition irked Ket after a while. Once they'd graduated from the ranks of pickpocketing and small theft into interstellar smuggling, Ket took a modest amount of joy in the runs he made with just him and Dub, since they hadn't involved any amount of cockswinging that people like Sidewinder participated in for the hell of it. "Yeah, you're right, I'm bringing it to the Old Man, so if you're so hard up for scoop, why don't you bug his ass about it?"

  Ket glanced to the front of the room again. Sidewinder gazed slowly and took a drink in thought. "Damn, Ket. I see how you wanna be. Well, don't let me pick you outta whatever funk your ass is in." Sidewinder stood up and nodded to Dub. "Hey, Dub, take care of this loser for me, alright?"

  As Sidewinder sauntered off, Dub gave Ket the best disdainful look a robot could've ever hoped to pull. "Sidewinder isn't the childhood friend you recall, if any of the data I've come across has any merit."

  "Oh? Do tell." Ket leaned closer to his partner.

  Dub perused his back files while he executed a subroutine to continue his previous monitoring and collateral watching Ket's back. "I'm seeing evidence of him being an informant for some UA entities, but it's spotty reports so far."

  "Damn, Dub, you telling me robots gossip too?"

  Dub eyed Ket again. "We're well behind the less nimble witted living creatures of Ling Galaxy when it comes to mindless chatter like gossip."

  Ket marveled at Dub's news. He hadn't kept as close tabs on Sidewinder, but he'd heard that Papa Chavis had cut a few less than stellar earners loose, and the Syndicate had scooped up a few random hands for jobs here and there. But Dub's news was the first time Ket heard of anyone helping out the UA. What the hell kinda deal was there with the UA that was better than the smuggling and syndicate trade?

  Another more pleasant voice called out behind Ket, this time a female.

  "Well, if it ain't fast talking, no tab paying Durban."

  Ket and Dub faced the bar and Dian, the regular bartender who made a practice of flinging out drinks as well as the occasional pearl of info to the lucky soul picked to receive it.

  Dian grinned at the duo before she eyed the spot Sidewinder recently vacated. "Gotta say, Sidewinder missed a nice tasty bit of smuggler scoop, walking away like that."

  Ket leaned closer. "Yeah? What's cooking? You got some good news for a kinda old flame?"

  Dian batted her eyes and added a smirk before she reached for a few empty glasses that were actually clean. "Oh really, Durban? That's how this is? We hook up a few times, you get your pulse pistol off, I don't hear from you for a Wexian month and now you're all hot for what I got to say?"

  Ket shrugged and wagged his glass around and watched the dark brown liquid of his drink as it made a circular dance. "Aww, Dian, I don't know what to tell ya. I had to bust outta here quick; ya know the Railen have that death warrant on me and all."

  Dian clasped Ket's chin between two fingers. "Ya could've called, smuggler boy. Anyhow, you wouldn't be into this kinda news. It's not your average smuggling job."

  As Ket reared back in his seat, Dub amused himself at how easy his partner not only lost dignity, but hilariously failed at hiding his hurt ego.

  "I'm not your average smuggler."

  Dian bit her lip to stifle a laugh but failed and clutched the two glasses on the bar as she bowed her head in snickers. "Oh Ket, you're impossibly predictable. It's a good thing you're so damn cute, or I'd have you bounced outta here any old time."

  Dian's whispy blonde hair flowed about her face, and a few of the locks drifted over her eyes a bit. But her eyes were fixed on Ket with a variety of colors. She wasn't exactly a one-man girl anyway, but Ket had thrown her for a loop in their tryst. It was a red-hot affair that ended pretty quick over the simple fact that Ket wanted to remain among the living, but that left many unanswered questions between them, a mystery they shared that looked to be unsolvable. The feelings that hadn't had time to take hold were instead placed below like so many cubes of ice in the bar to either be used or discarded some day.

  "Come on, Dian. Look, if I'd have stayed around, it's a good chance you'd be talking to my grave somewhere. You gotta know I didn't mean to bail like I did."

  Dian folded her arms. "Maybe you didn't, or maybe
you did, we'll never know. It's kinda handy you have that as an out, though, without having to actually tell me to my face you weren't interested anymore. Anyway, I'm a big girl, and don't think for one second you're not one of a dozen flyboys popping in here, swinging your dicks around and looking for the latest piece. You've been around; so have I."

  "Fair enough, Dian. Now, you gonna spill this news or am I gonna have to buy more booze from you first?"

  Before Dian said anything else, one of Ket's stool neighbors a few places down called out a drink order. While Dian tended her business, Ket writhed his hands together tightly. The Dark Passage wasn't a stranger to the big deals offered to tradespeople willing to do anything for a haul. Ket hadn't even needed to ask Dub's take on this; Ket's manually operated swindle sense was tingling off the charts.

  After a few more moments, Dian returned. "OK, so the other day I'm in here, the usual night. A fight or two, couple of pricks with their hands on some of the girls, yadda yadda. Then this guy in a heavy cloak and hood sets down at the bar. He's all alone and on the creepy side."

  Ket's brow raised. Saying anyone in the Dark Passage looked creepy was quite a statement. "What did he look like?"

  "Well, that's just it. He had this hood and never really lifted it up for me to see. All’s I saw was these deep blue-green eyes glowing at me." Dian leaned a bit closer. "I ask him what he wants to drink, and aside from ordering some Grondian ale he asks about the smuggler for hire situation. As I'm pouring his drink, I ask him what he's looking for, ya know, type of cargo, security concerns, the usual."

  "Yeah, so what was it?"

  Dian leaned further to whisper into Ket's ear. "He's looking for Railen Trackers, and he'll pay top prices for them."

  A chill shot through Ket. Railen Trackers were used to locate and capture Lookers. Lookers' ability to skip across dimensions made them extremely valuable, so the trackers were just as important. The Railen had created them for locating the Lookers to help with navigating back to Grondia, but word quickly got out on the devices. Ling Galaxy was fast on the bandwagon as well, and it meant an open season and uber bidding war on the choice bit of Railen tech.