by C. G. Hatton
LC picked one up quite happily. So far the beers and Danny’s best whisky hadn’t touched him. He wanted to get back to sleep. If this was what it took, he was curious to try it.
DiMarco leaned across and clinked glasses. LC saw that the pilot paused to watch him drink first. It burned its way down into his stomach and had a nasty chemical aftertaste, the fumes making him cough. “Jesus, what is this?”
DiMarco laughed and downed his own, grabbing the bottle and refilling both glasses.
“This, Luka my lad, is the best moonshine Sten’s World can offer. You haven’t lived until you’ve survived a session on this stuff.”
The pilot passed out before they reached the bottom of the bottle. LC sat quietly for a while, enjoying the peace, and considered finishing off the rest to see if it would make a difference. He felt stone cold sober.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to decide if he was tired enough to go back to sleep and reckoned he was more hungry than tired. Sitting with DiMarco and listening to his stories of the station and its black market, the gossip about Gallagher and the pilot’s theories on why Earth and Winter should leave the Between alone and go screw themselves had just about pushed LC to his limit. He’d zoned out, refused to be pushed into talking about himself and let the guy drink himself into oblivion. If Gallagher was a madman who thought aliens had shot him down on his last trip out to the mining colonies, then that was his business. And hearing about the politics of the three big families that ran the organised crime of Sten’s World had felt like minor small town gossip compared to what went on throughout the Alsatia. The massive guild cruiser had intrigue seeping out of every deck although the field-ops rarely had anything to do with it. It had never interested him so long as he was free to go out and run the tabs that kept the Thieves’ Guild thriving. Except he wasn’t free to do that anymore. It was tough but he had to remind himself that Mendhel, his buffer against the Chief and the rest of the guild, never mind the rest of the universe, was dead.
LC poured himself another glass and raised it in a silent toast to Mendhel, the man who had rescued him when he was thirteen years old and about to be shot for being on the wrong side of the line in a freaking war zone.
Chapter 4
“The effects of Mendhel’s death will be felt for a long time to come,” the Man said solemnly. “The guild feels any loss keenly. Mendhel was one of our brightest stars.” He held his hand poised over a pawn, motionless for a long while before sliding it across the board. “Tell me, NG, what do we know of this freighter captain?”
It seemed an innocuous enough question but the meaning behind it was daunting.
“William Gallagher is one of the old timers,” NG said. “Solid reputation, decent man by all accounts. LC was fortunate to fall in with him.”
The Man nodded. “I understand this chance meeting may prove to be most serendipitous,” he said.
“Gallagher tells a fairly convincing story of having been attacked by aliens,” NG said. “We have people investigating. Gallagher did lose a ship, that’s not in dispute. By all accounts, he was lucky to survive. Legal have dismissed the claim of alien aggression as myth. Media and Science are more interested because of where it happened. We have other evidence from that sector.”
The Man picked up a small pot and rubbed his thumb and fingers together over it, dipping in to take out a pinch of black powder. “Earth and Winter are fast to dismiss the events that happen in the Between,” he said. “It will be their downfall.”
•
He managed to get a couple of hours sleep and it was quiet when he woke. He sat up too quickly, banged his head again and was reaching for the gun before he focused and saw where he was. He got up, realised he felt better than he had in a long time and worked his way through a set of stretches, as much as he could manage in the confined space. He missed the Maze, missed the full on challenge of the Straight through the field-ops’ training ground. He’d not really had the chance to stretch his legs fully since before they’d found out that Anya was being held hostage, before the fiasco at the lab.
He was sitting back on his bunk, struggling to concentrate enough to use any kind of technique to control his breathing and lower his heart rate, when someone hammered on his door.
“Rise and shine, Luka buddy,” DiMarco yelled, sounding even more rough and obnoxious than usual. “Gallagher wants us on the bridge.”
LC didn’t reply. He didn’t like working in a routine and he wasn’t used to working as part of a team. It was tempting to ignore them all but a niggle of conscience reminded him that he kind of owed Gallagher for giving him a ride out of Sten’s, and being here on this ship was a hell of a lot better than being stranded on an orbital that could fast become bounty hunter central.
He showered and dressed, tucking the pistol into the back of his waistband and checking the knife in his boot before he left the cabin. The Duck was a hefty ship, much bigger than the small guild ships the field-ops got to work with, tiny in comparison to the Alsatia but still big enough that it took him a while to make his way down to the engine room. Thom was already in there running through a routine of pre-flight checks.
LC leaned around a huge block of machinery and waved to get the kid’s attention. “Gallagher wants me up top,” he said. “You alright in here?”
Thom looked up, a dirty smear across his forehead and a rag in his hand. “This ship has two Denholm 64s combined with a Lewis A drive,” he said, fidgeting and way too serious for LC’s liking.
He’d never been this close to the workings of a ship before and he didn’t really want to get any closer. Ships flew, whether they were big or small, and he really didn’t care how. “Is that a problem?”
“The Lewis is Wintran.”
Like that meant something. Didn’t the Wintrans make the best drive systems? LC shrugged. “And?”
“And the Denholms are from Earth. They shouldn’t be compatible.”
It wasn’t even tempting to ask what the hell a Denholm was. LC rolled his eyes. “There’ll be an interface,” he said. Of course there would be.
He told the kid that he’d be back before they had to warm up the drive, for whatever good that would do, and made his way to the bridge. Sean was there with DiMarco and Gallagher, going through the boards and arguing out a route. They all looked stressed and a headache began to pulse behind his eyes as he approached.
“Luka,” Gallagher said, turning around. “You’re with me. You two,” he said, turning back to the boards where Sean and DiMarco were scowling at each other, “come up with a solution. I don’t care how.”
Sean looked disgusted but as Gallagher stalked out, her expression changed. “Wait,” she said.
LC felt a tentative query reach out to his mind, the implant he hadn’t used in weeks engaging with a feeling that made him blink in confusion as it competed with the buzzing in his head. He allowed access and heard Sean’s voice in his mind as clear as if she was speaking aloud.
“Thank god,” she sent through the remote. “Are you getting this?”
“Yeah,” he sent in reply. “How did you know?”
She smiled, relief evident. “I guessed. I think Thomas has an implant, Senson, high spec too, but Gallagher and DiMarco don’t. Keep this private. Listen, Gallagher’s in trouble. I think he wants you to go back onto the docks with him. He’s caught up in something – don’t let him make it worse. I need to stay and babysit hangover boy here through some jump calculations. Be careful, okay?”
He nodded and backed away to follow Gallagher. Going back on the station was the last thing he wanted to do.
“What’s up?” he said, catching up and matching stride with the older man. “We’re due to leave, aren’t we?”
Gallagher slowed. “I trust you, Luka. I don’t know why but there’s something about you.” He slapped a hand onto LC’s shoulder. “I’ve got a problem and I need an extra pair of eyes with me. DiMarco is a drunk and Thom is a good lad, but he’s young. I want Sean on the bridg
e so that leaves you. And like I said, I trust you. You have good instincts. Just keep your eyes open and watch my back.”
“What are you expecting to happen?” LC asked cautiously, not really wanting to know and definitely not wanting to go out there.
Gallagher looked uneasy. “I arranged a business deal with Mal Donnelly to buy the ship. Good terms. I know, I know what you’re thinking.”
He wasn’t thinking anything other than trying to figure out a contingency plan if they ran into trouble.
“We have a legitimate cargo and permits for a round trip to Harbin,” Gallagher continued, speaking quietly so that he was almost whispering. “Problem is, Donnelly is demanding we take a detour on the way. He won’t sign the release with the office until I agree and I can’t mention it to anyone, so we don’t have enough fuel, we don’t have the right permits and Donnelly wants to see me now on the docks. I reckon he’s going to insist we take an extra item on our inventory.”
He stopped and turned to face LC. “I need this ship, Luka.”
And LC needed a way out. From what DiMarco had said, Donnelly was a bully, more mouth than muscle but with the backing of a family that no one on Sten’s World dared cross. It was small time, back of beyond crap and it was hard not to snap at Gallagher to just do what the guy wanted and be done. Whatever it was, he was sure he’d handled worse himself.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. He’d break into the damned office and steal the permits they needed if that’s what it took to get away from here.
“Agree to anything they say,” LC said quietly as they walked across the docks, trying to ignore the dull buzz in his head.
“Don’t worry, it’s not like I have a lot of choice,” Gallagher said. “Shit.”
LC followed Gallagher’s look and saw what was bugging him. Crates were being loaded into the ship, guys in black combat gear standing guard and cradling an array of weapons as others checked inventories and supervised the operation.
“I thought you said the cargo for Harbin was on board already.”
“It is,” Gallagher said. “See that small guy with grey hair? That’s Mal Donnelly’s man, McCabe. We’re screwed. Look, Luka, don’t say anything to antagonise them, okay? I’ll sort it out. Just watch my back.”
Watching his own back was more of a priority and it was way too public out here. He was heading towards a contingent of armed thugs who were brazenly flaunting their own weaponry, amidst the suddenly disinterested station security who were equally well armed, and that was nothing compared to the thought that in amongst all these people could be someone watching him and waiting for the right moment to take him down.
The back of his neck was prickling and he tried to be nonchalant about checking all directions, all exits from the docks and his own route back to the crew access of the ship. It was second nature to him but he wasn’t normally this paranoid about it, not in the way Hil could be. God, he missed Hil and he missed Mendhel. He’d never realised how much he relied on them to be there, right at his side. Even when he was out on tabs by himself, he always knew that they’d be there when he got back.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
As they approached, two of the guys in black dropped what they were doing and came to intercept.
“Where’s Donnelly?” Gallagher said, blustering with bravado.
“Mr Donnelly doesn’t oversee cargo shipments,” the smaller of the two guys said in a withering tone, looking them both up and down.
Gallagher looked like he was losing his nerve already. “He said he wanted to see me.”
“Mr McCabe will see you when he’s ready.” The guy signalled to his buddy. The big man stepped forward and gestured for them to raise their hands.
He was big but he didn’t look like much – no balance and LC reckoned he could floor the guy if he had to. Gallagher nudged him in the ribs though and he turned reluctantly, arms up while the guy frisked him, finding the pistol straight away and as it was pulled clear of his back, it was hard to stay calm and not think that this could be a trap. If Donnelly had found out who he was and how much he was worth, this could be it. Right here.
The suit leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “You must be new or stupid to be bringing a weapon into a meeting with Mr Donnelly’s crew.”
LC stood his ground but stayed calm. Not so long ago he wouldn’t have been able to resist a cocky comment but in the circumstances it seemed wise to stay invisible. Staying on the ship would have been wiser but what the hell; if Gallagher lost out here, there’d be no ship.
And no ride out.
The two guys kept them waiting then the first one turned and said, “Mr McCabe will see you now,” and they were waved over towards the grey haired guy who had stepped away from the loading operation and was watching from the sidelines.
They walked side by side and LC could feel that Gallagher was fuming, muttering, “They can’t do this to us. This isn’t what I agreed to. Believe me, I would never agree to take cargo for Donnelly.”
LC was looking around, gauging angles and numbers.
“Danny told me not to trust him. God, how could I have been so stupid?”
“It’s not stupid to have the guts to want to keep on trying,” LC said quietly.
Gallagher looked confused. “Jesus, did I say that out loud?” he said, embarrassed.
McCabe looked up as they got near. He was holding a thin data board to his chest, tapping it gently. The guy had two men standing behind him, both armed and watching them approach with fingers twitching on triggers. A third who was standing at McCabe’s side was familiar, not openly brandishing a weapon and a faint smile twitching the corners of his mouth as he watched them approach. LC recognised him instantly as the big guy who’d stopped the fight in the bar. He looked out of place somehow, not as hostile as the rest, and LC had got the impression he was a regular at Danny’s place so to see him here in this company was surprising.
It was disconcertingly hard to read the scene. It wasn’t clear what they were expecting and it was difficult to keep his mind clear and on track when the noise in his head was becoming overwhelming. He was so used to just knowing what to do, how to react without needing to think in whatever situation he found himself that this sense of indecision was debilitating. He blinked and tried to concentrate on the four men in front of them.
Gallagher strode up to McCabe. “What the hell are you doing?”
“We’re loading cargo, Gallagher, surely you can see that.”
“I can’t take cargo for you, McCabe. No way.”
McCabe smiled again and held out the data board. “Yes, you can,” he said. “And you will.”
Gallagher took the board and flicked through the screens on it, his anger turning to disbelief. “This isn’t the document I signed.”
He reached the last screen and sagged visibly. He looked up at McCabe. “This isn’t the document I signed,” he said again, his voice quiet.
“That is your signature, Bill.”
LC was watching the two bodyguards, who’d both taken a step closer. The big guy was standing quietly, calm and impassive.
“McCabe,” Gallagher said quietly, “you’re going to kill us with this.”
McCabe looked unimpressed. “Without this, Gallagher, we will kill you. You owe Mr Donnelly now. And this,” he gestured to the stack of crates, “is your first instalment. The mortgage on the ship has been signed, your papers are in order and you will take this cargo to a location that will be specified once you have left dock.”
He looked at LC suddenly. “I heard you scraped yourself a crew together, Bill,” he said, sneering and LC knew beyond a doubt that the guy had no idea who he was. He relaxed.
McCabe took the board back from Gallagher and smiled. “One more thing,” he said. “Mr Donnelly doesn’t completely trust that you’ll take good care of his consignment. I’m coming with you.”
Gallagher tensed and shook his head. “That’s not necessary. I don’t take passengers.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I’ll speak to Donnelly,” Gallagher said. “He didn’t say anything about this.”
McCabe held the board up between them. “You don’t have a choice, Bill,” he said, quiet and malicious.
The two bodyguards planted their feet, shifting the weight of the stubby guns they were carrying. The big guy from Danny’s Bar took a small step closer himself, staring at LC, and shook his head, a tiny almost imperceptible movement, in a gentle warning.
LC got the message, stepped forward and placed a hand on Gallagher’s back. “It’s fine,” he said to McCabe. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”
As he turned to manoeuvre Gallagher away, the implant engaged and Sean whispered inside his head, “Luka, we need you back on the ship.”
“We’re coming,” he sent back. He had to get off this dockside. And hope that Gallagher could keep his act together long enough with these small time crooks to get them away from here.
Chapter 5
A pinch of the black powder trickled from the Man’s fingers into the wine. Steam rose as the two substances reacted.
“As volatile and hostile as the Between has become,” the Man said, picking up the jug and swirling it carefully, “I take it that our operative conducted himself well. Why did we not extract him, NG, as soon as you knew where he was?”
Clouds of vapour rose in a billowing surge. The fumes were potent, a heady mix of intoxicants blending with the humid air in the chambers.
NG moved another pawn, classic King’s Gambit, trying to anticipate the strategy the Man would adopt. He pushed his goblet forward. “We didn’t know for sure. He was smart to join the crew of a freighter. Those ships spend months in space. Half the colonies they service aren’t even listed.” He knew he sounded defensive again and bit his tongue.