Children of Junk (Rogue Star Book 3)

by Wisher, James

  She ran toward the door. Iaka reached to try to stop her, but Solomon shook his head. “Let her go.”

  Emily darted out the door. Iaka turned to look at him. “She might get killed out there.”

  “I doubt it. Emily works for Dorn, she has from the beginning. Meeting her was all a setup.”

  “I’m sorry, I know you liked her.”

  A different, higher pitched squeal sounded, saving Solomon from the awkward conversation. “I know that noise. That was the ship’s cannon firing.”

  “Marcus left the outer defenses on when we left. Someone probably tried to reach the fighters in the hanger.”

  The ship lurched again, throwing Solomon against the wall. Who the hell was piloting this thing? Now he knew why Marcus wanted them to hold on to something. “I have to say this isn’t his best rescue ever.”

  Iaka smiled. “Has he had that much practice? I mean saving anyone except you and me?”

  Solomon laughed. “You’d be surprised. He might not act like it, but Marcus is a sucker for someone in trouble.”

  * * *

  The ship kept lurching, first one way then the other, it was all Marcus could do to make his way down the short, curving ramp to the central command station. Both engines had failed and lights kept popping on the damage control station. He needed to get the external monitors working so he could see what was happening out there. He stumbled, caught himself on the command chair, and slid into the seat. The control panel looked simple enough. He flipped a switch he thought controlled the main screen and sure enough it came to life.

  Two monstrous ships with eight arms protruding from a central cockpit like some sort of giant octopus tore at the hauler. Each of the arms ended in a different tool. Cutters, bashers, metal shears, plasma cutters, and several other tools he didn’t recognize were not so slowly reducing the hauler to scrap. It wouldn’t take long before they did so much damage that the automatic mitigation systems could no longer maintain the atmosphere. Marcus hated to admit it, but this wasn’t his best rescue ever.

  He studied the control panel a little closer and found nothing that looked like computer controlled weapons. He shook his head. Screw it. He got up and ran for the lift door. Another tremor about knocked him off his feet, but he caught the frame of the lift and pulled himself in. He hit the switch to take him back down and prayed he’d make it before those ships tore something that controlled the lift.

  The chime sounded and the doors slid open two levels above where he wanted to be. Staring at him, eyes wide and terror filled, was Dorn Karrik. Marcus grinned at his luck and punched the horned prick square in the face. The old man went down hard. Marcus grabbed his ankles and dragged him into the lift. The doors shut and the speaker buzzed and crackled as it tried to play the awful music.

  Once again the chime sounded, this time on the correct floor. The doors slid open and thick greasy smoke billowed in. Marcus crouched down under the noxious cloud. What the hell was burning? He grabbed Dorn’s ankle and dragged the unconscious kidnapper behind him. He retraced his steps back to the prison room. No freaks presented themselves and no one shot at him. Looked like the rats had abandoned the sinking ship. They had the right idea.

  Marcus stopped outside the door. “It’s me, don’t shoot.”

  Iaka and Solomon waited just inside the door, him sitting and her standing. “You’re okay.” Iaka hugged him. “What’s going on with the ship?”

  “It’s being torn apart. We need to go.” Marcus looked around. “Where’s the girl?”

  “Gone,” Solomon said, his voice glum. “Don’t worry about her. She was working for Dorn the whole time.”

  Marcus grinned. “Speaking of Dorn.”

  He stepped out and retrieved his now groaning prisoner. “I brought you a present.”

  He pulled one of his blasters and offered it to Solomon grip first. “He’s all yours. Just make it quick. We’re almost out of time.”

  Solomon shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s take him to the council for a proper trial. Much as he deserves it I don’t want his blood on my hands.”

  Marcus shrugged and hauled Dorn to his feet. The old alien staggered but didn’t fall. “Suit yourself. Let’s go.”

  He shoved Dorn out the door ahead of him. If anyone got shot let it be the one who got them into this mess in the first place. As he feared no one took a shot at the old crook. Well, they had a ways to go yet; maybe someone would blast him and save them the time and trouble of a trial. The little group started down the hall, walking crouched to avoid the smoke.

  They hadn’t gone far when they had to move close to the wall to skirt a pair of gaping holes in the floor. All around the holes were bits of bloody flesh and twisted metal. Those grenades had been worth the money. When they cleared the aftermath of the battle and reached the end of the hall Marcus grabbed the back of Dorn’s collar and shoved him toward the door to the hanger.

  Marcus paused to punch the deactivation code to the Star’s external defenses then shoved Dorn through. A charred, smoking, unrecognizable corpse lay on the hanger floor a few feet from the unconscious man. Marcus had no idea who or what it had been, but he saw no metal, just burned flesh, so it wasn’t one of the freaks attacking them.

  A green bolt flashed through the smoke and splashed against the door a foot from Marcus’s head. He leapt to one side an instant ahead of a second blast. Those looked like disruptor blasts. Solomon had warned him his captors had access to Void tech. This certainly confirmed it. “Everybody down!”

  They dropped to the floor, Marcus and Iaka both drew their blasters. He scanned the hall behind them, looking for whoever fired that shot. Whoever shot at them had to be in the hall, there was nowhere else the blast could have come from.

  Dorn tugged on his arm. “My partner has no legs. He flies on an antigravity unit.”

  Marcus shrugged him off and glanced at Solomon. He mouthed the words ion grenade and pointed down the smoke filled hall.

  Solomon held up a grenade the size of a plum and raised his eyebrows. Another green blast flashed above their heads. Marcus nodded and pointed again. Solomon pressed the primer and threw the grenade down the hall. A second later lightning filled the hall followed by a crash when their attacker crashed to the floor. The half-man tried to bring his weapon’s module to bear despite the sparks shooting from its barrel. Marcus aimed his blaster, but the module exploded, tearing the man’s arm off and saving Marcus from having to shoot him.

  Marcus leapt to his feet then reached down and grabbed Dorn’s collar. He yanked the old man to his feet and thrust him toward the ship. Iaka and Solomon ran behind him and Marcus brought up the rear. Solomon, Iaka, and Dorn stopped by the ramp and stared at something. What the hell was the holdup? Marcus skidded to a stop beside the others, “Are you kidding me?”

  Debris filled the opening to the hanger. There was no way the ship could maneuver through that mess. Marcus ran his finger through his hair. He couldn’t catch a break.

  Choking down a string of curses he said. “I can fix this. Everyone on board. Solomon, stun cuffs on our passenger, please.”

  Solomon smiled for the first time since he found him slumped over his computer. “With pleasure.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Iaka said.

  The four of them went up the ramp. With everyone on board Marcus sealed the ramp and ran for the cockpit. He dropped into the pilot’s chair, powered up the antigravity generator, and retracted the landing gear. With micro thrusts he pointed the ship toward the closest of the two fighters and activated the tractor beam.

  Solomon and Iaka joined him just as the first fighter rose off the ground. He guided it toward the jagged metal and girders, pushing it until the fighter lodged amongst the debris.

  “I thought the idea was to make the opening bigger.” Solomon dropped into his chair with a sigh.

  “Criticizing already? It isn’t that far back to your cell.”

  Solomon waved his hands in a placa
ting gesture.

  “What are you doing?” Iaka asked.

  “Demolition work.” Marcus punched a code into his gauntlet and the bomb he placed on the fighter earlier exploded followed a moment later by a bigger explosion when the fighter’s missiles and fuel cells went off.

  The explosion finished off the forcefield maintaining the hanger’s atmosphere. Debris, smoke, and everything in the hanger not nailed down or under power went flying out into space. The opening was big enough for two ships to fly outside by side. “That big enough for you?”

  13

  Marcus streaked out into space, happy to leave the disintegrating hauler behind. They hadn’t flown over a second when the collision warning went off. He spun and yanked back on the throttle. An arm from one of the octopus looking ships swiped through the space just ahead of them. Alarms shrieked when it raked them with a fan of plasma from its cutter.

  He rolled and hammered the throttle forward. “Fire up the cannons and give that son of a bitch something to think about.”

  Solomon stared at the console in a daze. Marcus didn’t have time to spare worrying about him. Despite his best efforts the octopus ship was staying right on his thrusters. He rolled, avoiding another jet of plasma.

  “I’ve got them,” Iaka said from behind him in the auxiliary chair.

  A moment later streams of energy poured from the ship’s cannons forcing the other pilot on the defensive. Marcus seized the moment and jetted toward open space. If he could just get a little distance they could fire up the hyperdrive and get out of there.

  “Look out!” He was rolling again before Solomon finished speaking. The second enemy ship must have noticed the trouble its partner was having and decided to lend a hand. It wasn’t like the hauler was going anywhere.

  “Which one do you want me to shoot at?” Iaka asked.

  “Both!” Sweat beaded on Marcus’s forehead as he fought to avoid the second ship’s arms while not flying toward the first. They were so fast. It didn’t seem possible the ungainly things could keep up with him. How the hell would he get out of this mess? “Where’s the second fighter, the one from the hanger?”

  Solomon tapped on his console. “The opposite side of the hauler. I’ll put it on the screen.”

  A flashing dot popped up off to Marcus’s left. He pushed the engines to the red line and turned toward it. If this didn’t work he was out of ideas. In a straight race he finally gained a little distance between him and the second ship. “Where’s the first ship?”

  “Coming up fast on our right.” The battle seemed to have burned the exhaustion from Solomon’s brain, thank the galaxy.

  “Iaka, focus your fire on the first ship. Keep it off us for another few seconds.”

  “On it.”

  The streaks of energy shifted to target the approaching ship. Up ahead the drifting fighter drew him on. They should be close enough now. Marcus clenched his teeth, took one hand off the controls, and punched in all but the last digit of the code for the second bomb. They streaked past the fighter and he hit the final key. The bomb detonated, engulfing the pursuing ship in a spray of shrapnel. Marcus climbed and spun them back around. “Switch targets.”

  Iaka shifted her fire again. The damaged ship took three hits then exploded. Marcus pumped his fist once then looked for the surviving ship. He found it fleeing back toward the space station. He started to turn in pursuit, but Iaka put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s over. Let’s get out of here.”

  Marcus let out a breath. Part of him really wanted to chase down that second ship and blow it to smithereens, but Iaka was right. They were safe now. He turned toward open space and throttled back to half power.

  “Course plotted and laid in.”

  In unison they said. “Back to the council!”

  Marcus flipped the switch and they shot into hyperspace.

  * * *

  It took most of three days to reach the council asteroid. They emerged from hyperspace, the massive asteroid filling the screen. Marcus let out a little sigh. They’d made it back, everyone in one piece. That was the best result he could have hoped for.

  “So what happens now?” Solomon asked. His eyes looked clear and some of the darkness around them had faded. Three days of near constant rest worked wonders.

  “I imagine the boss will want to talk to Dorn, try to find out how those freaks got a hold of Void tech. It’s bad enough to have to deal with the Void themselves without everyone else in the galaxy getting their claws on their weapons.”

  “I second that.” Solomon glanced over at the empty seat behind Marcus. “What’s up with Iaka? She seems, different.”

  “Looks like she’s had enough of our lifestyle.”

  Solomon’s eyes widened. “Are you two…”

  Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know, pal.”

  The comm unit crackled. “Welcome back, Rogue Star. Your hanger’s empty and waiting.”

  “Thanks, control, it’s good to be home.” Marcus flew the ship around to their usual hanger. The doors stood open, a forcefield the only thing keeping the vacuum of space out. He eased through the field and once the engines cleared sent the command that closed the doors. After this little adventure he’d think twice about not sealing the doors behind him.

  The docking clamps locked on to the top, bottom, and sides of the ship, securing it in place then spinning them around to face the doors to allow an easy exit. They’d taken surprisingly little damage this time, just a little carbon scoring from the octopus ships’ cutters. Their fuel, however, was down to fumes. It was a good thing he got free fill ups as part of his unofficial salary. He powered everything down and got out of his chair. His gauntlet sat charging beside his station. Marcus unplugged it and strapped it on.

  They left the cockpit and found Iaka standing in the hall. “Back at last.”

  Marcus nodded. It was a relief to have everyone safe, but now they’d have to decide what their future held. He led the way back to the hold where they’d left the restrained Dorn lying on the deck, Gruesome towering over him. If ever there was an incentive to behave, having the giant war bot towering over you was it.

  “Get up.” Marcus nudged Dorn with his boot.

  The old man groaned, but didn’t move. Marcus looked at Solomon. “Want to see if the stun cuffs work?”

  “Alright!” Dorn scrabbled to his feet, his blue robe wrinkled and filthy from sleeping on the deck. He looked more like a refugee than a rich businessman. He glared at the three of them. “I suppose you’re enjoying this.”

  Solomon offered an enthusiastic nod. “I certainly am. I kind of hoped you might not get up so I could give you a taste of how the cuffs felt.”

  Marcus grinned, but held his peace. He walked over and lowered the ramp. “Let’s go. I suspect my boss will want to talk with you.”

  To his surprise, at the bottom of the ramp, a few feet away, stood Dra’Kor, his silver mask and white robes gleaming. Marcus guided Dorn down the ramp with a hand on his elbow. “Hi, boss. This is Dorn Karrik, kidnapper, liar, and all around slime ball. Despite his character issues you’re going to want to talk to him.”

  The silver mask cocked to the left. “What makes you think that?”

  “His partners were using Void tech. I saw at least one weapons’ module that came from an assassin. The universe knows what else they might have.”

  “The universe may know.” Dra’kor raised a gloved hand and pointed at Dorn. “But does he?”

  Dorn flinched under the cold regard of the first councilor. “I only know what I saw and heard. If I tell you, you have to guarantee me protection.”

  “You’ll find all our prisons very safe. Come along. There’s a conference room nearby where we can talk.”

  Dra’kor led the way out of the hanger and down a short hall. He took a left, passed several doors, and then stopped in front of the sixth. There was a control panel on the wall which Dra’kor used to open the door. Inside was an oval table with eight chairs around it. Dra�
��kor took a seat and gestured for the others to do the same. Marcus steered Dorn into the seat closest to the first councilor then took the one behind him for himself.

  Dra’kor leaned towards Dorn. “Tell me about these partners of yours.”

  Dorn leaned forward in his chair to take the pressure off his bound hands. “The truth, sir, is that it’s all his fault I fell in with such disreputable characters.” Dorn jerked his head toward Marcus.

  Dra’kor looked to Marcus who gave him the abbreviated version of his rescue of Princess Lande. Dra’kor returned his attention to Dorn. “So you failed to force a wealthy girl to marry you against her will and this is what caused you to fall in your new partners.”

  “Precisely, sir. I required capital for my business and when I failed to get it in one place it became necessary to get it elsewhere.”

  The first councilor leaned forward so his mask was only a few inches from Dorn’s face. “Be grateful that my people reject violence. If ever a person tempted me to violate my beliefs you are him. Now tell me about your partners before I lose my patience.”

  Dorn’s face went pale. “They call themselves Scrappers. They make money tearing apart derelict ships and selling parts and metal. It appears they make a great deal of money as they had no trouble providing me with the ten million credits I required, interest free I might add. It was only later I learned that sometimes they create the derelicts rather than just find or buy them.”

  “So you took a loan from pirates,” Marcus said.

  Dorn cleared his throat. “It turned out that way, but I didn’t set out to do so.”

  “When you put it that way I guess we can’t complain.” Marcus said.

  Dra’kor shook his head. “Enough, Marcus. Where did they get their technology?”

  “I’m not certain. From what I’ve pieced together someone used them in a variety of experiments then when they didn’t turn out as they expected abandoned them. The ones I dealt with were quite bitter about the whole thing.”