Star Scavenger: The Complete Series Books 1-5

by G J Ogden

  Hudson shook his head, “No, this is business. Two-ninety is the price, or I guess we go knocking on a few people’s doors…”

  If Swinsler’s face had gone any redder, it would have looked like a cranberry. However, Hudson knew that Liberty’s threat had backed him into a corner. A few seconds later, the dealer relented. Hudson was glad, because any longer and he worried that the man’s face would explode like a squashed grape. “Fine, two-ninety,” he muttered, grabbing the credit scanner from Hudson to complete the transaction. “And good riddance to it.” Then he jabbed his stubby finger at Liberty, “She could never make it fly anyway!”

  Hudson was dying to let Swinsler in on the secret. Only he knew that Liberty had deceived Swinsler into believing the VCX-110 was in far worse condition than it actually was. He bit his tongue, however; the slimy ship salesman would find out soon enough. Glancing at Liberty out of the corner of his eye, he saw the same knowing look on her face.

  Swinsler removed the registration fob from his belt and fiddled with it for a few seconds, before holding it out to Hudson. “Here, this will transfer the registry ID to you.”

  “It needs to be joint ownership,” said Hudson, taking the fob and looking at Liberty. “This ship has two captains.” Liberty smiled and then held the other end of the fob.

  “Fine, I really don’t care,” said Swinsler, pressing his thumb to the device so that all three were now in contact with it. The fob registered their thumb prints and then ran retinal scans on each of them, before bleeping softly three times. Hudson and Liberty checked the display, which read, ‘VCX-110, identification M7070. Registered owners: Powell, Hudson L. Devan, Liberty K. Please input registered callsign.’

  “Registered callsign?” said Liberty, frowning at the display. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a unique, custom identifier, though it’s optional, so we don’t have to enter anything,” said Hudson. He was about to clear the screen, when Liberty grabbed his hand.

  “No, wait…” she said, and then looked up at the VCX-110. “Orion. She’s called, Orion.”

  Hudson smiled, “You got it, Liberty.” Then he held up the registration fob and said, “Designate callsign, Orion.” The fob updated and blinked green, before deactivating.

  “You have twenty-four hours to get it off my forecourt, or I’ll charge you a storage fee,” said Swinsler, snippily. Then his red face adopted a saccharin smile. “And since it doesn’t fly, I expect to recoup my losses swiftly.” Then he lifted his head and looked down his nose at both of them. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have more important matters to attend to,” Swinsler announced, before marching off back towards his pre-fab office block.

  Hudson tossed the fob to Liberty who caught it and clipped it to her belt. He noticed that she had fashioned the RAF cap badge she’d acquired from Cortland’s store into a belt buckle. “I wish I could be here to see his face,” Hudson said, smiling. “Does that thing have enough juice in it to get us to Ride Spaceport for refueling?”

  “That thing is called, ‘Orion’,” Liberty corrected him. “And, it’s not supposed to, but I always made sure it had a few credits in the tank.”

  Hudson nodded and looked up at the ship. It really was a beauty. “Okay then, why don’t you get the Orion fired up; I think it’s high time we took this bird for a test flight.”

  Liberty looked like a kid at Christmas, and if he was honest, Hudson felt exactly the same way. He didn’t know how long the rollercoaster would remain on this new peak, but he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

  Liberty ran ahead, climbing the ramp and entering the engineering section, while Hudson headed to the cockpit and strapped himself in. A few minutes later, the twin engines sparked into life, building to a rich, resonant purr. Hudson smiled as the instruments in the cockpit flickered into life. The status readouts showed that the flight systems were all green. Liberty hadn’t been kidding about hiding the ship’s true condition from Swinsler. Hudson grabbed the control column and began to prepare the ship for takeoff. Liberty appeared a few seconds later and slid into the second seat.

  “We’re all set, skipper,” she said, pulling on her harness.

  Hudson looked out of the cockpit glass and saw Swinsler standing in the middle of the forecourt, his hands on his head. He looked like someone who’d just crashed a brand-new car. Hudson knew it was cruel to take pleasure from the moment. Yet, at the same time, it was nice to see a swindler get ripped off for a change, instead of himself.

  “Are you ready?” he said, glancing across to Liberty.

  Liberty’s eyes shone like supernovas, “Punch it, skipper!”

  Hudson engaged the vertical lift thrusters, and the Orion rose majestically into the air above Hunter’s Point, blowing Swinsler onto his backside in the process. Then he placed his hand on the main thruster control and pushed it forward, powering the ship higher and faster, and into the skyway lane towards Ride Spaceport. Liberty whooped and laughed, hammering her hands down on the arms of her chair, as they blasted across the Californian landscape.

  “We did it, Hudson!” cried Liberty, “We can go anywhere we want!”

  “Then you’d better think of a destination,” said Hudson, smiling back at her. In fact, he hadn’t stopped smiling since setting foot inside the Orion, and his face now ached from the strain. However, he didn’t care. The Orion had lifted them both, and not just in terms of altitude. They were now free. He didn’t care where they went next, because it didn’t matter. All he knew in that moment was that he’d never felt more alive.

  CHAPTER 18

  With the credits they had left over after buying the Orion, Hudson had been able to take on fuel and supplies at Ride Spaceport. They even still had some money left in the bank. Then, like kids with new bikes, they couldn’t wait to get out and see what the Orion could do. Their next hunt could wait a while, Hudson decided. This was a time to just enjoy their newfound independence.

  For the first few hours after departing from Ride Spaceport and reaching orbit, Hudson had given the Orion a thorough shakedown. He tested all the systems, and pushed the maneuverable ship to its limits, and it hadn’t missed a beat. Clearly, Liberty’s restoration work had been executed with more than just professionalism. She had poured her heart and soul into the ship too. Even so, all throughout the shakedown tests, Liberty had flitted between the cockpit and the engineering section in order to make further refinements and modifications. Her efforts had paid off, fine-tuning the ship’s already impeccable performance even more acutely. And when the time had come to throttle back and sit down for a well-earned meal, Hudson had freely admitted that it was the best ship he’d ever flown. Hands down. No questions.

  Sharing a meal together in the living space of the Orion had made Hudson realize something else too. Nothing about the ship felt unfamiliar to him. The VCX-110 Light Courier Runner was roomy enough to accommodate three crew cabins, and with only the two of them on-board, it felt spacious and comfortable. But it was more than just comfort that Hudson felt; it was an instinctive sense of belonging. It felt like he’d lived on the ship for a decade already. It was, as Liberty had already commented to him, a feeling of being home.

  Home… thought Hudson. I’ve never really had a home… He’d lived in many places during his life, but none had felt special to him. Home was a concept that was going to take some getting used to, he realized. But Liberty was right, the Orion wasn’t just a ship, and it wasn’t merely a vessel that unlocked access to the galaxy. It was almost like another member of the crew.

  “So, where shall we head to first?” wondered Hudson, relaxing back on the semi-circular couch and placing his beer down on the table.

  Liberty had the CET communications unit in front of her and was working on it. The other alien components she’d bartered from the Antiques and Curiosity Shoppe were scattered alongside it. “I don’t know,” she murmured, shoving an alien component into the communications unit and soldering it in place. “I guess we just see where the w
ind blows us. Though, I’ve always wanted to see Mars.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been in MP territory,” replied Hudson. “There are certainly some good portal worlds out there. The Martians can be a little uptight, though.” Then Hudson leant in to get a closer look at the contraption Liberty was modifying. “What are you up to, anyway, Dr. Frankenstein? Other than making a damned mess, that is.”

  Liberty scowled at him over the top of the communications unit, “I’m experimenting…” she answered, mysteriously.

  “With what? The best way to make a mess on our new ship?” said Hudson. He knew Liberty was being deliberately obtuse, in response to his snarky comment about her tidiness, or lack thereof.

  “If you must know, I’m working on an idea to hook in that crystal to the ship’s communications and sensor array,” said Liberty. She then again ducked behind the old CET communications unit so that Hudson could only see the top of her head. “If it is a key part of some alien communication device, I might be able to make an interface using a blend of our tech and alien components.”

  “To what end?” asked Hudson, becoming more interested now that Liberty had mentioned the crystal. “I mean, what do you think it will do?

  Smoke from the soldering iron puffed up above the device, making it look like Liberty’s hair was on fire. Then she reappeared, blew a strand of loose hair away from her face and put down the iron. “I don’t know – like I said, I’m experimenting. Crystals and crystalline materials have been used in everything from early radio systems to semiconductors.” Then she pointed to Hudson’s jacket. “Our little crystal is something entirely new though, so who knows what it’s capable of.” Then she patted the modified communications unit like a dog, and added, “I’m hoping that this little Frankenstein contraption might help us discover what it can actually do.”

  Hudson downed the remaining contents of his beer and then removed the crystal from his jacket pocket. He slid it over to Liberty and then relaxed back again. “Just try not to blow us up, okay?”

  “I’ll do my best,” replied Liberty, sarcastically. She then picked up the crystal and placed it inside the device, before closing up the rear panel.

  The computer console on the wall behind Hudson’s head bleeped an alert, and he twisted around to check it. “That’s odd, there’s a ship approaching,” he said, scowling at the readout.

  Liberty shuffled around the semi-circular couch so that she could also read the screen. “Could it just be a regular CET patrol?”

  Hudson could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something felt off. “I don’t know, but I think we should get to the cockpit.”

  Liberty nodded and slid back around the couch, grabbing the modified device and placing it in a storage compartment underneath the table. She then hurried after Hudson, who was already jogging along the central walkway and up the shallow flight of stairs to the cockpit.

  Hudson was already strapped into his seat when Liberty arrived, hurriedly activating the ship’s engine and thruster controls.

  “You’d better buckle up,” said Hudson, grabbing the control column and pushing the throttle forward. “Take a look at the classification of the ship that’s heading for us.”

  Liberty barely had time to pull the harness tight before the two-g burn pressed her back into her seat. She fought back against the force of the acceleration and checked her console. “FS-31 Patrol Craft, Hawk-1333F,” she read aloud, and then the penny dropped. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me! That’s Cutler’s ship!”

  CHAPTER 19

  Hudson wasted no time in breaking orbit, before entering the co-ordinates for one of the near-Earth portals into the nav computer. “He’s a persistent little bastard, I’ll give him that,” he said, fighting with the controls to keep them on course.

  Liberty frowned as the new navigation plan flashed up on her console screen. “Brahms Three? I thought we were heading to Mars?”

  “Mars will have to wait, I’m afraid,” said Hudson, watching the target blip on his panel. Cutler’s ship was still some distance away, but the FS-31 class was fast, and Cutler was likely used to high-g travel. “It will take days to reach Mars, and Cutler will be on top of us long before then.”

  “So why not just head back to Earth?” asked Liberty, “Surely, he can’t catch up with us, before we make re-entry?”

  Hudson locked in their trajectory and rested his head back into the seat, releasing some of the extra tension in his neck. He glanced over to Liberty, and saw she was looking increasingly more concerned. Though Hudson reasoned that her pained expression could also have been due to the extra forces acting on her body.

  “We could go back to Earth, but then we’re back at square one,” said Hudson. “We take off again, and he comes after us again. Earth just isn’t safe.”

  “And Brahms Three is?” exclaimed Liberty.

  Though it was framed as a question, Hudson could tell it wasn’t intended as one. After the stories he’d told her, on top of her already basement-level opinion of the world, Hudson knew that ‘safe’ was not a word that Liberty would ascribe to Brahms Three.

  “Besides, I thought you hated that planet,” Liberty added, after Hudson remained silent.

  “We’re not going there to sight-see,” said Hudson, watching the range indicator closely, and noting that Cutler was gaining on them. “We need a safe harbor, and I know someone on Brahms Three who might help us out.”

  Liberty sighed and relaxed, letting the chair take the strain. “Whatever you say, skipper…” But then she tilted her head across to him again, “I don’t see why it matters if he catches up with us, anyway. What’s the worst he can do? Flip the bird at us through the cockpit window?”

  Hudson pushed the engines harder, accelerating at two-point-five g. That would keep them out of reach of Cutler for the time being, but he knew he’d still need to rotate the engines and decelerate hard before he could make the portal transition. And that would give Cutler the window of opportunity he needed.

  “I’m afraid his plan is to launch more than just insults at us,” said Hudson, glancing over to Liberty. “He means to shoot us down.”

  “What?” Liberty would have sprung out of her seat had it not been for the harness and the additional force pressing down on her. “But private vessels aren’t allowed to carry weapons in CET space; it’s against the law.”

  Hudson remembered back to his engagement with the relic hunter smuggler on Vivaldi One. He’d made the same assumption then that Liberty had just made, and it had almost got him blown away.

  “Trust me, I’ve learnt the hard way that these people don’t obey the law,” he said, glancing down to the range indicator again. He estimated that Cutler would get maybe sixty seconds before he was within the perimeter of the portal checkpoint. “But, if we’re lucky, there will be a CET patrol craft on-station at the portal checkpoint. So long as we can get inside the checkpoint perimeter, Cutler will have to break off, or otherwise risk an all-out engagement with the CET military.”

  “That sounds like a whole lot of assumptions, skipper,” said Liberty.

  “I know, but here’s another… Our successful escape also assumes we can pass through the portal, before being blown to pieces.”

  “I already don’t like this plan,” interrupted Liberty, but Hudson ignored her, and continued.

  “Once we’re through, we’ll be able to get a head-start on them on the other side, even if they do follow us.”

  “How?” asked Liberty. “Surely, they’ll just land right on top of us again?”

  Hudson smiled at Liberty, “This is where I’m counting on the advantage of a genius engineer co-captain…”

  Liberty rolled her eyes, “Did I already mention that I hate this idea?”

  “Portal transitions knock out the main drive systems,” Hudson went on, bursting through Liberty’s bubble of sarcasm like a dart. “A good crew can restart them and be underway again in maybe fifteen minutes. But I’m
betting you can crank our engines a lot faster. That will give us the lead we need to make the second transition to Brahms Three.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Liberty, gripping the arms of the chair.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” said Hudson, throttling back and then rotating the engine pods one hundred and eighty degrees. “Flip your seat,” he called out to Liberty, showing her the location of the lever. “We’re going to decelerate hard and then make our run for the portal checkpoint.”

  Liberty nodded and switched her seat to face the rear of the cockpit. As soon as it had locked into place, the acceleration slammed her back into her seat again. “I hate high-g travel!” she called out, over the roar of the engines.

  Hudson steeled himself against the forces acting on his body, but just managed to call out, “You’ll hate getting shot at more.” Either Liberty didn’t find the joke amusing, or she was in too much pain to answer.

  Besides the rattle of deck plates and the thrum of their engines, neither spoke for the next couple of minutes. Hudson’s eyes didn’t leave the range indicators on the consoles that had swung around with his chair. He was constantly comparing their distance to the checkpoint portal to Cutler’s ever-decreasing range to them. Shit, this is going to be close… he thought, but he kept that to himself, for fear of stressing out Liberty more than was necessary. He had only casually described her upcoming role in their escape, but he was banking on Liberty’s skill more than she realized. The truth was that if they couldn’t start their engines fast, they’d be a sitting duck for whatever illicit weaponry Cutler’s ship had in store for them. “Get ready to flip your chair back in three… two… one… now!”

  Hudson and Liberty rotated their seats back to face the main cockpit instruments again. The portal checkpoint rapidly swung into view directly ahead. Far from simple toll-booths in space, most checkpoints were akin to elaborate highway rest stops, containing space stations and refueling facilities. Hudson could see that seven other ships were already waiting in line to transit, but he hadn’t yet picked up a CET patrol.