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

by Paul Heingarten

  "Dian, I know you're pissed at me, but you really giving me this tip now? As hot as I am with the Railen, if they find me with a tracker, my ass is beyond dead."

  Dian squared her shoulders. "That's the scoop, Ket. You grab one of those, you'll need an intergalactic freighter to hold all the UA credits."

  As risky as a move like grabbing a tracker was, Ket realized everything Dian said was true. Among the hauls he'd done over the cycles, none even came close to this in scale. Ket downed the last of his drink. "Alright, Dian, good seeing you again. Lemme get some grub to go; I gotta stop in on Papa Chavis before I do anything else."

  "Alright, hon." Dian slid a scrap of paper over to Ket. "Hold onto this. You wanna take that offer up, you'll need to contact them."

  As Dian went off to get Ket's food, he took a glance at the paper. The contact info was scrawled toward the bottom, but what shocked him was the name at the top: Malone Stanton

  Ket's mind tossed the name around like a beach ball as he headed back to the fuel depot with Dub for their ship. Was the stranger who talked with Dian working for Malone? It was too much to call coincidence that this Railen Tracker job's contact just so happened to have a note from the most notorious criminal in Ling Galaxy with it.

  The name Malone Stanton was more than just familiar to Ket, of course. He'd heard it from time to time on his runs; it was spoken about with a boogeyman reverence or fear. Ket's dealings were on the small to medium trade, and he heard Malone's dealings were on the realm of galactic conquest. The latest on Malone was his search for Essence in order to manipulate and control it. Ket had also heard Malone planned a physical merge with the Essence and his body itself. Of course, details and reports over Network were just as rife with BS as with gospel truths.

  What was wholly evident was the life generating and sustaining Essence was the ultimate power for anyone with the ability to control it. Any fears Ket had over someone like Malone with that power were balanced with his curiosity on the angle for himself, not to mention the hefty take involved if he played things just right in the Tracker Heist and anything involving Essence that may have been on the horizon.

  Chapter 3

  Once Ket downed his food, he and Dub flew the Crimson Lance to Osten Chavis’ compound. The massive fortress stood alone in a wasteland area of Wenzo, with plenty enough visual space for identifying if approaching ships were friendly or not... a preferred amenity for life on the Wenzo system for anyone whose income came from anything but reputable means. Ket docked his ship at the adjacent port area and with Dub brought their cargo in.

  Osten met them in the large entrance foyer. He greeted them both with open arms. "My boys, look at what you've got." He pressed his large belly to Ket in a bear hug and only released to pat Dub on the arm. "How was the run; any trouble?"

  "You could say that; a squadron of Railen gave chase, but I finally shook them." Ket grabbed his neck.

  "Must've been pretty dangerous; I hadn't expected them to be that active."

  "Guess they're stepping up their security."

  Osten nodded. "No doubt. I'm hearing stories about Railen Trackers on the loose and a lot of people going after them."

  Ket felt an urge to mention his note from Dian, but something held him back. Dub eyed him with a bit of curiosity and said, "Actually, we just heard—"

  "The Railen have been after the Omegans and are more active because of that." Ket eyed Dub.

  Osten's eyes squinted. After a pause, he nodded a bit. "Oh right; you best avoid that pissing match. The Omegans and Railen want bloodshed and conquest. War's too messy. I like my income safe with smuggling and the like. Plenty enough of that still going on, especially if you avoid the lawkeepers. Well, come inside. I'll get your bounty for this, and you can stick around if you want."

  Osten summoned one of his seconds to handle the reactor core haul and their payment. While Osten headed inside, Ket and Dub followed from a safe distance.

  "Why did you cut me off?" asked Dub.

  "Because we don't want the old man knowing about this other run yet," Ket hissed. He still processed the whole idea, and he figured it best he didn't let onto Chavis about taking the job for finding a Railen Tracker. The potential payoff would’ve set up a whole new future for Ket. As fatherly a figure Chavis had been to him, there was no way Ket was gonna slip by without a hefty kickback to the old man if he was in the know. Ket had done much in his time as a smuggler, but his thoughts lately had progressed beyond the capers, and millions of UA Credits sure seemed like a great start at a new chapter.

  Ket and Dub headed to Osten's parlor while Osten verified the cargo and his people retrieved Ket's payment. Ket had spent a lot of time here in his youth, from when he was a boarder to when Osten broke him in as a pilot. The longer he sat in the room, the more he wondered if he was ready for what he had in mind.

  Ket helped himself to some Wenzian liquor from Osten's stash. He slumped back into a chair and relaxed a bit until he caught Dub's curious glance toward him.

  "What? You still chapped I cut you off back there?"

  "No. For your information, I do a lot of calculations that have nothing to do with you at all." The digital board on Dub's center console backed up his retort, Ket noticed it flash a series of maps and what looked like coordinates for warp jumps.

  "Well, fine. Then how about you do me a solid and let me know what the hell my co-pilot is up to? Otherwise, it looks like you're malfunctioning over there."

  Dub's readout went blank, and he cocked his head. "If you must know, I did some preliminary scans on reports of Trackers in the surrounding systems. If we're going on this insane stunt of a run, I figure our chances, at least my chances, of not getting blown to bits, come down to locating the Tracker with the least amount of visibility on it."

  Ket ran his hand through his hair. At times like this, he wondered if the idea of a replacement for Dub on the Crimson Lance wasn't so dumb after all. "OK, Brainiod. You gonna share the details so, you know, I can like, get us there when we need to?"

  Dub's unit processed more but suddenly went quiet, and a moment later Osten's booming voice explained why. "OK, you're good. Twenty thousand UA credits, less my portion means six thousand credits for you. I'm having them loaded onto the Crimson Lance." Osten took one of the plush seats and leaned back, a chilled cocktail in his hand.

  Ket took a sip of his drink. "That's great; thanks, boss."

  "No problem. But there is one other thing I need to warn you about." Osten leaned forward, and set his drink on a nearby table. "Ket, I've known you a long time. I remember before you even had Dub at your side. You were one of my best learners and even better earners out there, running scams, skirting trouble and the law, and making your Papa Chavis proud."

  Tightness seized Ket's throat. He'd gotten too comfortable and forgotten about Osten's listening devices in the parlor.

  "Ket, I know you're planning on a run to get a Tracker. You don't get into a position like mine without taking all kinds of precautions, even monitoring your own home for people thinking of trying something foolhardy or even dangerous."

  Ket clasped his glass tight; he felt his face flush. Osten was a kind man, but Ket and most people knew that mistaking that benevolence for weakness was pretty dumb.

  Osten looked at Ket and Dub with the eyes of a disapproving parent. "You know, it's not so much your idea to set out on such a foolish run; it's the fact you tried hiding it from me that worries me."

  Osten lightly grasped Ket's shoulder, but the look in Osten's eye didn't make him any less anxious about it. "Papa, I know it's risky, and you're right. I should've been more up front about it. It's just, I have to try this. You've given me so much, I won't ever be able to repay you fully."

  Chavis nodded slowly. "Don't think I'm not aware of the bounty on the Railen Trackers, Ket. Even seventy percent of that take is the kind of money that will let you do anything you want afterward. Just think it over, son. What good's a reward if you ain't alive to use it?"
>
  "Point taken, Papa, for sure." Ket nodded. Osten leaned back in his chair and eyed Ket with a sense of wonder. "You know, sometimes it's hard for me to not see you as that little boy you once were, thieving on the systems we went to."

  Ket smiled at the memory. Some would've called Osten's arrangement with his kids nothing short of extortion and most definitely exploitation. It wasn't completely without consequence, though. Ket did several incarcerated terms for his dalliances. Besides the criminal penalties, Ket’s work for Osten gave Ket the approval he needed, that feeling of belonging he never had from his real father. Besides his mother, Ket got the sense of being someone who mattered mainly from Osten. The memory also served to ramp up the guilt Ket had about trying to sidestep his mentor on the biggest job of his life.

  "I'll cut you in on it, Papa. I swear."

  Osten chuckled. "I've no doubt. Just take care of that ship and yourself; you've already got the Railen out for you. Remember, if you get your hands on the tracker and the wrong people find out, there's no army in Ling Galaxy that'll be able to save you, not even mine."

  #

  Once Ket cleared the air, he joined Osten and several other of the smuggler crew for a night's feast paired with a taste of Osten's gallery of wenches. His bodily needs met for a little while, he and Dub set out in the Crimson Lance the following morning, with Osten's half-hearted farewell. Ket knew, as much as Osten had offered his moderate approval of Ket's run, that he was on his own. On a normal smuggling operation, Ket as well as the rest of Osten's clan had the option of calling for assistance if things got too shaky. Ket had been on the verge of doing that when he was overrun by the Railen squadron, and had he not been able to warp out of danger, a call to Osten's Network was his last shot.

  But this run was different. Ket had digested the logistics of it along with his prior evening of debauchery. While he still could've easily ignored the opportunity, he knew that as much as he bragged about the badass he claimed to be, if he grabbed a Railen Tracker, it would without any doubt cement Ket's status in the lore of smuggler runs as an all-time great.

  Before fortune and glory were his, though, Ket knew he had to book the run. Once he returned to the Crimson Lance and Dub activated the blocking mechanisms to prevent location detection, he used the scribbled note and hailed Dian's mysterious patron on the Crimson Lance comm system.

  A dark figure appeared on the hologram platform in front of Ket. A pair of glowing blue eyes glared back at Ket. Then, a mouth appeared on the face, a thin line that opened up as a third bluish glow. "Yes?"

  "Um, I understand you're looking for Railen Trackers."

  The face said nothing for a moment. Ket wondered if the connection had been broken, but then they replied, "What makes you think I am?"

  "Because I heard from someone at the Dark Passage you came in looking for a smuggler to make a run."

  Blue eyes chuckled. "Of course. Yes, I'm interested in getting a Railen Tracker. If you're willing to accept this run, I'll need a few details first, as well as give you a few instructions."

  "You need details from me? Like my criminal record or something?"

  Blue eyes narrowed their gaze into a sneer. "Don't be ludicrous. What I'm asking for is certainly highly risky, and of course the reward is commensurate. I'll need your ship tail code and information on your crew, so in the improbable case you are successful in this caper, I or my associates won't blast you into space dust when you make the rendezvous."

  Ket swallowed hard. Some pep talk. "Fair enough."

  The blue eyed meany continued. "This run carries with it a high probability of failure, and of that I'm nearly sure will be your result. That said, in the remote chance you are able to get this device successfully, I'm transmitting through this communication exact coordinates for you to deposit said tracker. Once it is in this location, I'll be notified and only then will the credits be transferred to you. Here's the part where you share with me where I should send your payment in the remote chance you are successful."

  Ket shook his head. He'd had more encouraging pep talks from prison wardens. "Understood. Just keep your checkbook handy, blue eyes. Don't go buying a new cloak just yet."

  Blue eyes deepened their glare in reply. "This shall be our first and only transmission. I suggest you don't cross me on this, as you'll be invoking retribution the likes of which you could scarcely imagine."

  Ket had kept the charade up for a while, but the fact he'd made a deal that could've meant his life with this relative stranger had Ket a little twitchy. "Alright then. Good talk." Ket nodded and ended the transmission.

  Chapter 4

  The Crimson Lance had just reached suborbital status above the Wenzo system when Dub said, "I suppose you're ready for that info I had for you last night?"

  Ket lined up the ship for its initial push into deep space. "Yes, dear. Please don't toy with my emotions any further."

  "I've tracked several potential locations for Railen Trackers in nearby quadrants. If my analysis is correct, and I can't imagine it wouldn't be, much of these trackers are locked up with Railen military units. If we try to steal one, we will likely find ourselves in a situation much worse than the reactor core caper."

  "Oh good, I was afraid you’d say it was gonna be hard," Ket muttered as he twisted the ship’s steering yoke into position to avoid a cluster of approaching asteroids.

  Dub continued, "However, there is one location that could give us a decent shot at a Tracker without much resistance."

  "Go on."

  Dub paused and checked some of the ship monitors on their console. "Of all the signals I registered, one popped on my scope. It's a fairly new update, so I'm wondering if this device had been inactive and suddenly turned on after a while."

  "Sounds like a girl I once knew." Ket snickered. "Where?"

  "Zormad system."

  "Zormad? That junk heap? Sure you're not malfunctioning there, Dub ol buddy? Zormad's been the asshole of Ling Galaxy for a while; their main industry is junkers trading scrap for nicer scrap."

  "I'm telling you, there's one there. The signature matches those I've verified in Railen possession."

  Ket studied his mechanical partner and thought of all the times they’d pulled successful heists. There were plenty of busts in with the hauls, but Ket still fancied himself a gambler to take the risk. "It's a huge payday, Dub. Let's try your lead on Zormad. Besides, we've no way of knowing who else this Hood guy made a deal with, and I don't feel like being on yet another list. Set course for Zormad."

  The pitch and yaw thrusters on the Crimson Lance adjusted to line the craft up for its warp jump. The first part of their trip, where the craft was aligned for its intended course, was manual. But once they'd entered the coordinates, the system took care of the rest. They were just there in case any manual overrides were needed. Ket patted the console as if the ship were a faithful steed, ready for its trek around a racecourse. "Atta girl, gimme some good money on this run; good luck's the tip."

  Ket settled back into his seat. He'd earned the Crimson Lance from Osten. As part of his upbringing, as well as the other kids Osten nursed into a life of crime, Ket's earnings over the cycles went toward purchase of a starcraft. With each successful heist, from simple pickpockets to thefts petty and not so petty, Osten set aside a piece toward a ship for each of his kids. It was way more than benevolence, and the kids figured it out sooner or later. With a fleet of ships at his disposal and loyal employees he'd reared from diapers to deviancy, Osten's operations soon extended to the furthest reaches of Ling Galaxy in a generation or two.

  Ket's memory of getting the Crimson Lance was impossible to shake, and in light of his decision for making this run, Ket knew he had to make good by his mentor. Equally jarring though were the words of Osten about Ket being on his own. Ket knew this wasn't in Osten's mind when he gave him the Crimson Lance, but Ket also knew without making his bones on his own, he'd never be out from under Osten's shadow.

  A series of chimes rang o
n the console. Ket smirked, knowing what the notification sound meant already, but of course Dub was one for proper procedure. "Warp Course confirmed by on-board navigation console. Warp jump in 3... 2... 1..."

  An echoed thud vibrated through the ship bridge, and the craft shot forward at sub light speed.

  Once the ship stabilized on its course, Ket got up again from the controls. "ETA for Zormad?" he asked Dub.

  "Approximately one-hour, present speed."

  "Good enough. I'm gonna check out the Clutch system, see if it's ready in case we have to make a quick grab and go." The Clutch system was a handy tool for any smuggler of note; it provided simple teleportation for objects up to a certain size. The only requirement was to be in near proximity of the item, at least within one mile. Ket activated the console for the device and began running through some diagnostics when a voice from out of nowhere startled the crap out of him.

  "That's very fancy."

  Ket flung himself to the floor and sprung up, pulse pistol poised for action. "Who the hell said that?" He searched the room, but after a few seconds it was obvious—a translucent, bluish humanoid form stepped toward him from behind several power consoles toward the rear of the room.

  "Easy there; stay where you are!" Ket barked. His pistol shook a little. The form approached, and Ket made out feminine features.

  "Hate to tell you, but your weapon won't do a thing to me. Besides, at your present velocity, I don't think firing a shot through your ship's hull is the best idea."

  "Neither is letting someone waltz onto my ship and do God knows what." Ket's hand squeezed tight around the handle of his weapon. "Now then, who... or what... the hell are you, and how the hell did you get onto my ship?"

  "What I am doesn't really matter to you, but if you're determined to know more about me, you can call me Julina. As for how I arrived here, I'm a little surprised at that turn of events myself. For all purposes, I wasn't supposed to wind up here—wherever 'here' is, anyway."