Arlen ran his tongue across his lips.
“So, let’s take a lil’ look at what you got for me, love” he said, holding out his hand, his fingers waggling in anticipation.
“Of course,” said Amelia, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a slate.
Leaning forward, she handed it to Arlen. With a quick snatch, he took it and looked it over with greedy eyes before handing it to the man at his side, a tall, dark-skinned man with a shaved head and a diamond-pattern tattoo that crisscrossed his neck.
“I assume you’re going to pay me for that?” asked Amelia.
Arlen said nothing, simply locking eyes with Amelia for a moment. Then, he turned to the men standing at his right and left and gave a quick nod, which was followed by them withdrawing pistols and rifles of various sizes from holsters on their backs and hips.
Arlen stepped forward towards Amelia and Benkei, a measure of newfound cockiness to his stride that only something like having weapons drawn on an unarmed person can impart.
“Here’s th’ thing,” he said, his hands on his hips. “I think our little arrangement has worked out alright so far, but me an’ th’ boys’ve been doin’ some thinkin’, and, well, we decided that it’s actually more profitable to just take whatever you give us and not pay ya, ya understand?”
Amelia said nothing, instead shooting a quick glance to Benkei, who seemed to be barely restraining his desire to rush the group of men and start smashing skulls together. But he caught her eye, and, seeing her calm, held himself back.
“Not exactly the shrewdest businessman, eh?” asked Benkei, his voice calm, in spite of the feelings he was keeping in check. “Double-crossing might pay off now, but I think you’ll find that betraying clients is a quick path to running up a bill that money won’t settle.”
“Yeh, I think I’ll worry about that particular bridge when it’s time to cross it, big man,” said Arlen, a bulky, black pistol in his hands. “But ya’ might want to keep your mouth shut; I’m planning on lettin’ ya’ all go, sans gear, of course, but keep with the idle threat-makin’ and you’ll quickly find the limits of my good graces.”
“You know what, Arlen? Fine, take the data,” said Amelia. “I’ll consider it a lesson learned to know better not to trust pirate shitheads like you.”
“Now, now, little one,” said Arlen, wagging his gun in a chiding manner. “Listen to what I just told your gargantuan friend there.”
He turned to the man holding the slate and, as he turned, Amelia raised a palm at her side, making sure Benkei saw it. He did.
“Now, let’s just double-check that this is all worth our time before lettin’ ya’ all outta here,” Arlen said. “Cartwright, pull up that data and give it a quick look-see, why don’t ya?”
“Doin’ it now,” said Cartwright, the tattooed man, his voice having a heavy Cockney accent.
A moment passed while he swiped through the slate. Amelia and Benkei stayed stone still, the guns of the crew still trained on them.
“What the hell?” said Cartwright, looking up. “This is just the schematics to their bloody ship!”
“Gimme that,” said Arlen, swiping the slate out of Cartwright’s hand. “You’re muckin’ about in this goddamn thing. Here, you gotta…”
With a sweeping, final swipe, he exited the schematics.
“There, now just-”
But before he could finish his sentence, Amelia reached down to the pistol at her hip. Drawing it with a quick, fluid motion, she trained the pistol on Cartwright. She took a deep breath, focusing, letting her Geist reflexes take over. Time seemed to slow down for everyone but her. She pointed the pistol at Cartwright, watching his face slowly twist into an expression of terror before she pulled the trigger, sending a round screaming through the air, connecting dead-center of his forehead, sending him spiraling backwards, a trail of blood curling in the air behind him.
She then trained the pistol at the furthest man to the right, but pointed instead at his knee, which was bare and brown. Amelia squeezed the trigger again, the bullet again connecting exactly where she wanted it to, the man collapsing, his knee buckling as he screamed in pain.
Another round cracked, hitting the pistol in Arlen’s hand, sending it flying backwards in a slow arc, landing in a clatter dozens of feet behind him.
Amelia, time still slowed to a crawl through her reflexes, pointed the pistol at the man on the far left. But, to her shock, she saw that he already had his small, shoddy sidearm trained on her, a wicked snarl on his face. He cracked off a round, which Amelia watched rip through the air in slow motion. She moved her head to the side at the last second, the bronze round flying past her face, cutting through a thick strand of her jet-black hair.
He missed, but that was enough to snap Amelia out of her concentrated state, and time returned to its normal pace.
The man prepared to fire another round but, before he could, a massive green plasma blast cleaved through the air, connecting with the man and blasting him backwards dozens of feet, as though he had been hit by a car. Amelia turned to her side, seeing that the round came from Mädchen, Benkei’s Toro plasma rifle. He moved the aim of the massive gun to Arlen, who now stood with his arms raised.
The rest of the men, now all wearing the same look of panic on their uniformly ugly faces, looked at the pair. They were ready to surrender.
“I’d advise against any sudden movements,” said Amelia, her pistol stone steady.
Benkei peered down from his gun at Amelia, a small smirk on his face.
“OK, OK,” said Arlen, raising his hands in surrender, “there’s no need for this to get out of ‘and.”
“You…lil’ bitch,” he added, his words a hot, angry spit.
“Bitch or not, I’m going to be the one collecting gear. So, let’s have it, boys. My friend Benkei will be doing the collecting, so let’s keep this nice and orderly.”
The men exchanged looks, and all seemed to agree that they were sunk. Their hands raised, their weapons dangling from their fingertips, Benkei made a quick stroll in front of them, collecting their various pistols, rifles, and ammo.
“It would appear that your lesson is to be learned sooner than anticipated,” said Benkei to Arlen.
“Fuck off, big man,” Arlen replied.
The weapons collected, Benkei returned to Amelia’s side, his big arms overflowing with munitions.
“Boys, it’s been a pleasure, as always, but I think it’s time for us to be off.”
She turned to leave, but stopped, as though remembering something.
“Oh, and one last thing, should you get any big ideas about chasing us.”
Amelia reached into her pocket, pulled out her own slate, and gave it a few swipes. A series of rounds cracked through the air from the Meridian, the weapons of which were controlled from Amelia’s slate. The rounds slammed into the black mass of Arlen’s ship, hitting the power plant with pinpoint accuracy, and the ship powered down.
Arlen watched this unfold, saying nothing for a moment, then exploding into anger.
“You bitch! How the hell’re we supposed to get outta here?” he yelled, a trace of frantic desperation to his voice.
“You’re the master schemer now, champ,” said Amelia over her shoulder as she and Benkei walked back towards the Meridian, “use that big brain of yours to figure something out.”
Instead, Arlen went into a tirade, screamed expletives trailing Amelia and Benkei as they strode across the landing pad towards their waiting ship.
Chapter 4
Leaning back in her seat, Amelia put her feet up next to the pile of weapons that lay on the large, circular stainless-steel table in the main hub room of the Meridian.
“Tell me again why I wasn’t informed of your little plan,” asked Benkei, who was sitting across from Amelia, steaming tea in a small blue-and-white ceramic cup in front of him.
“There’re a lot of things you’re good at, Bennie-boy,” said Amelia, an angled glass of bourbon in her han
d, “but lying with a straight face isn’t one of them.”
Benkei cocked his head and raised a thick black eyebrow, seemingly conceding the point without argument.
“Still, I can’t help but wonder how you knew that our friend Arlen was planning on setting us up.”
Amelia took a sip of her bourbon and looked away.
“I had that shithead pegged as a betrayer-in-the-making since our first buy with him. And when I saw the gang in the background of the call with Sam in the middle of a huddle with the operator making the worst poker face of all time -worse than yours, even- I figured this was the time.”
“It appears your Geist training applies to even the subtle art of interpersonal communication,” said Benkei, lifting his cup from the saucer, the cup seeming thimble-sized in his massive hand.
“Less that, and more just figuring out over time that backstabbers like Arlen are all variations on the same model.”
“Well, then,” said Benkei, sweeping his hands in a grand, conciliatory gesture, “I apologize, humbly, for doubting your strategic acumen.”
“Alright, cut it out,” said Amelia, rolling her eyes.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway leading to the hub from the cockpit, and Amelia recognized right away the sound of the rubber soles of Sam’s sneakers on the steel floor. Sure enough, within seconds her slim figure was standing in the entry to the hub, a wide-eyed expression of excitement on her face as she looked over the pile of weapons on the table.
“Holy shit!” she said, moving to the weapons in the speed of a blink and picking up the slim, boxy body of Arlen’s assault rifle, holding it up and looking down the sights. “I was gonna chew you out for not giving me the heads-up with the Arlen situation, but, with this haul, I’m tempted to forgive and forget!”
“Don’t get too attached,” said Amelia, looking over the pile of weapons. “These’re all getting sold as soon as we get to Venus.”
“Aw, come on,” said Sam, her red hair bouncing as she stomped a foot, “let me at least keep the rifle; this is a one-of-a-kind custom job. Insane rate of fire, caseless ammo, the works.”
“And probably costs a week’s pay per clip,” said Benkei in between sips of tea.
“No kidding,” said Amelia, taking her feet off the table and sitting up. “Leave it to a shithead like Arlen to buy the gun equivalent of a sports car.”
Sam said nothing, instead looking over the rifle with appreciating eyes.
“I assume that you’re not needing the data at this exact moment?” said a voice from the top of the stairs leading down to the lab.
It was Sasha, his tall frame hunched over as he stood in the doorway, his handsome face seeming to radiate its own light.
“Why, you figure out what it is?” asked Amelia.
“Nothing special, I’m afraid; looks to be some schematics for an improved low-G rover of some kind. Someone might be interested, who knows,” he said, stepping into the hub and walking towards the black ’fridge in the kitchen area.
“Shit,” said Amelia. “At least we’ll get something for it; Aliadney’s more of a collector than anything.”
“Good to see the vultures are already at work picking the bones of the Federation clean,” said Benkei.
“You kiddin’?” asked Sam, her eyes on a plasma pistol in her hands as she pulled the wire off the weapon’s energy pack. “There’s trillions worth of gear out there, just floating in space. You think the system’s going to wait a respectful time before going after it?”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Benkei, looking off into the middle distance.
“What’s the ETA for the Venus trip?” asked Amelia.
“Not long; a day and a half, at most. But, boss, the fuel situation’s getting pretty damn bleak.”
“And the less said about the tea situation, the better,” said Benkei, finishing the last bit of liquid in his cup with a slow, savoring sip. “I’m down to my last package of Matcha.”
“Oh, are we complaining about what we’re out of?” asked Sasha, sliding his slim body onto the couch next to Amelia. “We’ve been out of any food but noodles for the last week. And I’m starting to forget what meat even tastes like.”
“Oh, oh,” said Sam, wagging a finger as she spoke, “and those precision rounds you used for that little stunt you pulled off were our l-“
“OK, OK, I get the picture,” said Amelia, closing her eyes and holding up a palm. “We’re out of money, and out of the stuff that we buy with money; I get it.”
She sat back in her seat and looked at the brown wash of bourbon that remained in the bottom of her glass, thinking to herself how she had one, maybe two, more fingers left in her private stash before she was completely out.
The situation was getting grim; the last few station raids had been busts. Amelia knew that the more profitable work was, as it had always been, in doing jobs for any of the various warring factions at each other’s throats, but after the close call on the last job with the Kingdom of Deimos, where the Meridian was nearly sliced in two by the plasma lance of a Brothers of Ares cruiser that was, according to their radar, on the other side of the planet, Amelia made the decision to play it safe for the time being. Station runs were pretty low pay, on the whole, but at least they were all but guaranteed to bring the crew back to the ship in one piece.
But, like the crew was so eager to remind her, they didn’t exactly keep them comfortably above water financially.
“I do appreciate your recent streak of pacifism, little one,” said Benkei, “but one can’t live on bread and water alone, as they say.”
“Christ, not to mention how boring these runs are!” said Sam, her green eyes wide. “I hate paying for the ammo, but, man, it was pretty nice getting to actually shoot at something for once!”
“Yes, I have to agree,” added Sasha, “I’ve been working on some modifications to the ship that would actually save us money in fuel efficiency over time, but I need money to keep them going.”
“Alright, alright, I get it,” said Amelia, wrapping her fingers around the nearly-empty bottle of bourbon, and pulling the cork out with an airy thwomp, “we’ll get to Venus, unload this gear, and, when I meet with the client, I’ll see about getting some work that’s a little more lucrative.”
“’Till then, I could go for some noodles.”
“Why not,” said Benkei. “They do say hunger is the best spice.”
Chapter 5
With a lurch, the Meridian exited jump space, the swirling blue of the jump tunnel pulling back and revealing the black, star-strewn expanse of space. About the size of a quarter, Venus was visible in the distance, its atmosphere thick with white, puffy clouds. Dots could be seen over the planet’s surface, the transit and shipping lanes moving in orderly rows that crisscrossed over the Earth-like surface of the planet itself. And just to the left of Venus was the half-circle shape of the Federation spaceport. Once the headquarters of the Venus-based Fourth Fleet, now its use was carved up among the nations of the planet, the station itself belonging to none, but desired by all.
“Am, I’m picking up some major signatures,” said Sam, her voice tense as she looked over the readouts in front of her.
“What kind of signatures?” asked Amelia, striding over to Sam’s station and looking over her shoulder at the screen.
“The ‘big’ kind; the ‘weapons hot’ kind.”
Amelia looked over the screen. Sure enough, there were two massive blips on the radar that corresponded with positions on either side of the Meridian, both cruiser-sized. And both were, just as Sam said, increasing their energy readings by the second.
They were about to open fire.
“Sam, pull us out of here, now!” said Amelia, rushing to her tall-backed seat in the center of the flight deck and strapping herself in.
Looking at Amelia, an expression of worry on her face, Sam nodded once before snapping her gaze back on the screens and grabbing the flight sticks. With a hard jerk back of the stick o
n her right, she pulled the Meridian into a hard right bank before hitting the engines and rocketing back with a burst of afterburner. Just as she did, dark orange wisps from coil gun fire crossed in front of the Meridian, right through the space that they had occupied only a few seconds before.
“What’s going on? Who the hell is shooting at us?” yelled Amelia, scanning the viewscreen in front of her with darting eyes for any sign of what they were now in the middle of.
“Missile incoming, hold on!” shouted Sam, flicking a series of metal switches near her thigh before slamming both hands on the controls.
“That doesn’t answer my question!”
But before Sam could respond, the ship fell back into another hard bank, the thrust of the engines of one side of the ship raging full-bore, pushing Amelia into the other side of her chair. Then Sam cut the back engines and ignited the front, pushing them even further backwards at the incredible speeds that the Meridian was capable of.
“It’s two cruisers,” said Sam, her voice raised over the roar of the engines and the vibration of their thrust. “Scratch that- two cruisers and two wings of fighters.”
At that moment, it hit Amelia what was going on: they’d jumped right into the middle of a battle.
“The entire space around the planet, and you jumped right in the middle of a goddamn faction slapfight!” yelled Amelia as the ship pulled another hard bank, the viewscreen in front of them filling with the darting swarms of the two fight squadrons as they closed to dogfighting distance.
“Hey, I don’t decide where the jump gates open!”
Sam and Amelia watched with wide eyes as a series of arcing contrails launched from one swarm of fighters to the other, the thin white lines careening towards the other fighter wing. The missiles closed the distance within seconds, impacting and blasting a handful of the fighters into small orange blossoms that flickered and snuffed out in less than a second.
Unknown Cargo (The Meridian Crew Book 1) Page 2