Star Scavenger: The Complete Series Books 1-5

by G J Ogden

  “In a few minutes, there will be a half-dozen ships closing in on us; we can’t outrun them all,” Griff called over to Wash. He’d always considered his old boss to be a narcissistic bureaucrat whose only skill was self-advancement, but she was handling the transport with surprising proficiency. “We should think about leaving the planet, and making a run for a portal.”

  Wash briefly glanced at the navigation scanner, then shook her head. “We won’t make it, not with most of the CET fleet already in orbit.”

  The communications panel lit up and Griff saw that there was an incoming message from the pursuing CET ships. He opened a channel and put it through.

  “RGF Transport, we have been ordered to escort you to CET Base Travis,” came the authoritative voice of the CET patrol pilot. “Fail to comply with this order and you will be fired upon. Please respond.”

  Griff noticed that the CET patrol craft had also transmitted a flight plan. He glanced over to Wash, and said, “If we land at Travis then it’s over for us, but we have to respond with something.” He then watched her, trying to gauge her reaction, but Wash remained impassive. “Wash, what the hell? We need to answer them!” he shouted, losing his patience with her.

  “I’m thinking, damn it,” snapped Wash. Then she quickly glanced at the navigation scanner again, before throttling back and grabbing her headset. “CET Patrol Craft, message received. Proceeding to CET Base Travis.”

  “What? Did you not just hear what I said?” snapped Griff, as Wash threw down the headset, and began to follow the new course they had received.

  “How the hell could I not hear you?” barked Wash, “You should grow that ridiculous fur on your top lip a bit thicker, so that maybe it will muffle the sound of your bothersome voice.”

  Griff threw his hands out wide, “So, what? You’re giving up, is that your genius plan?”

  “Of course not, you idiot!” snarled Wash. “There’s an RGF training base up near Sonoma. The flight plan they gave us takes us right past it. When we get close enough, I’ll divert and land us there.”

  Griff thought for a moment. He was aware of the training base up on the Sonoma Mountain. It was certainly big enough that they might be able to blend in and slip away unseen. However, there was still a problem with Wash’s improvised plan. “How can you be sure they’ll let us land?” asked Griff. “The CET authorities have taken control of the RGF, remember?”

  Wash shook her head, “I can’t be sure, but do you have any better ideas?”

  Griff rubbed his temples, wracking his brains to think of an alternative, but nothing came to mind. “Shit, it’s worth a shot,” he said, wearily. Then he had an idea, “Hey, do you know anyone stationed at the training base? Someone we could maybe claim to be?”

  Wash’s brow furrowed in concentration, as Griff noticed one of the CET patrols pull in line with them off their starboard side. He could see the pilot through the cockpit glass, glancing over at him, suspiciously.

  “I think Superintendent Farlow still runs the station,” answered Wash. “You could try him; his voice is almost as annoying as yours is.”

  “Cute…” replied Griff, scowling back at her. He then pulled his console closer and locked in the frequency for the control tower at Sonoma Mountain RGF Training Base. He scrambled the channel then turned to Wash, “Ready when you are,” he added, while pulling on his headset.

  Griff and Wash both watched the navigation scanner closely, as they began to climb over the mountain. Then he saw Wash grab hold of the throttle control and glance over to him.

  “Make the call,” she ordered, before slamming the throttle forward and veering sharply towards the base.

  Griff was pressed back into his seat from the sudden acceleration, and his hand slipped away from his console.

  “Griff, now!” shouted Wash, as the training base came into view ahead.

  “A little warning next time!” Griff cursed, while pushing himself upright and opening the channel. “Sonoma Mountain, this is Superintendent Farlow, requesting an emergency landing,” he blurted into the mic. He’d intended to make his voice sound urgent, but the fact he was genuinely panicking meant there was no need to act.

  Griff waited, but there was silence. “Sonoma Mountain, I am declaring an emergency, do you read?!” he cried out.

  Then the radio crackled on, and an anxious voice replied. “RGF Transport, this is Sonoma Mountain RGF Training Base. Who did you say you were again?”

  Griff shook his head. It was just his luck to find the most incompetent tower operator in the whole of RGF. “Superintendent Farlow, damn it!” he yelled. “Requesting an emergency landing.”

  There was another painful silence, during which time Wash and Griff exchanged nervous glances. Then the radio crackled back on, but this time it was a different, far more assured voice.

  “Who is this? Identify yourself?”

  Griff couldn’t believe it. “For the third time, I am Superintendent Farlow! Don’t they teach you dumb rooks anything!”

  There was another pause, this time much shorter, before the voice replied. “I am Superintendent Ray Farlow.”

  Griff threw his head back, and then looked at Wash. Her expression was the same as his. They both knew they were sunk. Suddenly warning alarms sounded in the cockpit, as weapons locked onto them from the RGF base, but before they had a chance to fire, the transport was hit from the rear. More alarms sounded, and Griff closed his eyes, as the ship began to rapidly lose altitude.

  “We’ve been hit!” Wash shouted, her voice desperate and panicky, but Griff ignored her cries. “Griff!” he heard Wash yell again, but he just kept his eyes closed, and concentrated on the drone of the alarm. “Griff, do something! Griff!”

  Then the cockpit glass shattered and Logan Griff was jolted forward against his harness as the RGF Transport plummeted into the mountainside.

  CHAPTER 16

  Logan Griff had flown millions of kilometers during his RGF career, not even counting the vast distances between portal transitions. Yet, that had been the first time he had crashed. It wasn’t an experience he ever wanted to repeat.

  Whether out of luck or judgement, the CET Patrol Craft had delivered just enough damage to bring them down, but not enough to destroy them outright. It was possible that Wash’s better-than-expected piloting skills had also contributed to their survival, though Griff would never have admitted that to her. However, since his eyes had been shut for the crash, he didn’t know whether they had been saved by Wash’s crash-landing expertise, or pure, dumb luck.

  Their close proximity to the RGF training base had also contributed to their narrow escape. Fire Transports had arrived on the scene swiftly and pulled Griff and Wash from the burning wreckage. Medics had quickly treated the cuts, bruises and minor burns that both he and Wash had suffered, before CET security had placed them under arrest. Now, as he lay on the rock-hard bed in the cell inside the Sonoma Mountain RGF base, with Jane Wash shrieking at the guards to let her out, he contemplated whether his survival had been a blessing or a curse.

  “Can you shut the hell up for two damn seconds?!” Griff shouted over to Wash, as she bellowed yet another barrage of orders at a passing guard. “They’re not going to let you out.” Then he sat up and looked Wash in the eyes. “Don’t you get it yet? You’re no longer ‘Superintendent’ Wash; you’re just plain old Jane Wash. You’re nothing to them.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Wash spat back. Then she jabbed a finger into her own sternum. “I’m still connected. I know people. And when this whole shit storm is over, they’ll take me back.” Wash then raised her voice, and directed it towards the two cell guards, “Then all of these assholes who refused to help me now will pay the price!”

  Griff rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re deluding yourself,” he replied, lying back down on the bed. “All of your ‘connections’ are in cells just like this one. You’re on your own.”

  It was in sticky situations like this that Griff would no
rmally have turned to Wash to bail him out. Now he had to think of another solution, but with Wash’s incessant, high-pitched yammering, he couldn’t concentrate for more than a few seconds.

  Suddenly the door to the cell block opened and a late middle-aged man wearing a CET officer’s uniform walked in, accompanied by two armed CET soldiers. Griff stood up, recognizing the man by his rank, if not by his face. He’d never met Commodore Trent before, but everyone in the RGF knew him by reputation. Griff glanced across to Wash, and it was apparent from the look on her face that she’d recognized him too.

  “It’s about time someone with authority showed up,” said Wash, storming over to where Trent now waited. “I demand to be released from this cell, Commodore. You have no right to hold me!”

  Trent’s eyebrows raised up on his forehead, then he casually pressed his hands behind his back. “Actually, your breaches of aviation regulations are more than enough on their own to merit me holding you,” Trent replied, smoothly. “But shooting at CET soldiers, not to mention your breach of the Relic Guardian Force contract, largely overshadows such trivialities.”

  Griff winced, and stole a sideways glance at Wash. His former commander was used to people fearing her, and jumping to attention when she spoke their names. The fact that Trent was clearly not intimidated by Wash would only piss her off even more.

  Wash straightened her back, practically squaring off against the Commodore, despite the thick steel bars separating them. “How was I to know that your soldiers were not other mercenaries, hired by the criminal outlaw, Cutler Wendell?” She jabbed a finger at Trent, “An outlaw that you colluded with, I might add.” She tucked her hand back under her arm, and continued. “It is no surprise we ran for our lives. As for the incident at Chrome One, I am merely the fall guy for decisions made by my superiors.”

  Griff raised an eyebrow and looked back at Trent. Wash had delivered her speech with composure, but he doubted that her, ‘I was only following orders’ strategy to deflect blame onto her superiors would hold up for long.

  Trent smiled and said, “That’s interesting, because your superiors claim you acted alone.” His manner was still polite, but his tone was a touch sharper now. “But it matters not; you shall all share the same fate. Either way, now that I am in command of this base, rather than your wretched former organization, you shall remain here, as my guests.” Then Trent removed the crystal fragment from his pocket and held it up. “I have what I need from you already.”

  Griff laughed, drawing an even more scornful look from Trent. “Do you find it amusing that planets are being destroyed? Does it entertain you that millions have already died, and billions more are under threat?” asked Trent, though it was a rhetorical question. “This crystal could be all that stands in the way of the alien invader. Yet you two horse-traded it like it was no more significant than a common CPU shard.”

  “You can’t believe that alien vessel poses any real threat?” replied Wash, derisively. “Your entire space fleet, and that of the MP, stands in its way. It is only one vessel, no matter how big it is.”

  Trent sighed and shook his head. “I hope we all survive this, because I will enjoy seeing you tried and convicted for your crimes.” He slipped the crystal back in his pocket. “And if not, you’ll die along with the rest of us.” Then he pointed to the hard cot bed in the corner of the cell, and added, “Enjoy your stay.”

  Trent began to walk away, but Griff was determined to have the last word. The CET Commodore may not have been as pompous as most, but his smug superiority and clear disdain for the Relic Guardian Force made Griff hate him all the same.

  “It’s a fake,” Griff called over. Trent stopped, and wheeled around to face him, brow furrowed. “That’s right, Cutler Wendell took you for a fool, Commodore. He gave you a cheap piece of tat, and you bought his lies, hook, line and sinker.” Griff could see that he had embarrassed and angered the Commodore, and smiled, before sitting down on the edge of his cot bed. “Not too smart after all, are we?”

  Griff also saw Wash’s eyes narrow and her lips curl into a spiteful sneer. Then the Commodore spun around again.

  “Make sure they are guarded around the clock,” he barked, breaking character from his usual charming self. Then he marched out of the door, and slammed it shut behind him.

  “I enjoyed that,” said Griff, after the sharp crack of the door slamming had cleared from his head. “Even if we are stuck here, at least that asshole got pushed out of his high tower.”

  Wash also sat down on the end of her bed. “We aren’t stuck here,” she said, casually, before glancing at Griff. “This isn’t over yet.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Griff woke with a start. A hand was pressed over his mouth, and a figure was standing above him, but in the darkness, he couldn’t make out who it was. He let out a muffled cry, and struggled against the hand pressing down on his face, but panic was taking its hold. Then he saw the glint of something metal looming over his neck and he froze. Cutler has found me! he thought, before closing his eyes and waiting for the blade to sink into his flesh.

  “Will you stop squirming around!” came the voice of Jane Wash. Even though the volume of her demand was muted, it lacked none of its customary spikiness.

  Griff opened his eyes and saw that the glint had merely been moonlight reflecting off Wash’s diamond earrings. His whole body went limp, but his heart was still pounding in his chest. The relief he felt was like waking from a recurring childhood nightmare.

  Wash removed her hand from Griff’s mouth and looked at it at in disgust, before wiping the saliva onto his black shirt.

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” Wash continued, still keeping the volume of her snarls low.

  Griff sat up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, before hawking a globule of spit onto the stone floor. He could taste Wash’s perfume on his lips and it repulsed him.

  “What’s the matter with me?” he hit back, though also keeping a lid on the volume of his protests. “What the hell are you doing waking me up like that? I thought Cutler had come to slit my throat in the night!”

  “How was I to know you’d react like a frightened toddler?” Wash hit back. “You’re lucky I didn’t slit your throat myself – I was sorely tempted.”

  Griff looked around the cell. Moonlight shone through the solitary, letterbox window, and a single guard sat asleep at the desk by the door. “I take it you have a reason for getting me up in the middle of the night?” Griff asked, stretching his arms and shoulders. “Because you’re missing out on your beauty sleep, and you really, really need it.”

  “Cute,” said Wash, echoing something Griff had said to her previously. “But yes, I obviously have a reason. And since your lazy, useless ass isn’t going to get us out of here, it’s down to me.”

  Griff relaxed back against the wall and folded his arms. “You woke me up so that we could escape?” he replied, making his doubtfulness apparent in both his voice and body language.

  “Believe me, I’d rather leave you here, but unfortunately I will still need your help,” replied Wash. Then she held up a small, square object.

  Griff frowned and leaned closer so that he could see it better in the gloom. He raised another doubtful eyebrow at Wash.

  “You’re telling me you’ve had a skelly on you all this time?” he asked, and Wash nodded. He wanted to slap the smug, shit-eating grin off her face, but the truth was, he was also impressed.

  “Where the hell were you hiding that?” Griff continued, aware that they had both been searched before being put in the cell, which was how Trent had come to be in possession of the fake crystal. “It can’t have been down your cleavage, since you don’t have any. And your bony ass barely fills those skinny pants, so between your butt cheeks is out of the question too.” Then he scowled, “Unless you had it stuck up your ass?”

  Out of nowhere, Wash slapped him hard across the cheek. The sharp clap, set against the surrounding stillness of the cell, was like a glass smas
hing. Griff and Wash both glanced over to the guard, who snuffled softly, but continued sleeping.

  “Watch your filthy mouth,” snarled Wash, jabbing a finger at him, “and get your head out of the gutter and in the game. If we’re going to break out of here, it will require some extreme measures. I need to be sure you’re prepared to do what’s necessary.”

  The sharp slap had fully woken up Griff’s senses. It had also intensified his desire to murder Wash, slowly and painstakingly. He rubbed his cheek and answered, “Don’t worry about me. You get that door open, and I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

  Wash’s eyes narrowed. “Good, because now there are no half-measures.”

  Griff frowned. “I thought you were ‘connected’?” he said, snarkily. “I thought your fancy lawyers and contacts were going to get you exonerated?”

  Wash shook her head. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you were right,” she replied. “Trent said so himself. The senior commanders will all hang, and they’ll just string us up alongside them.”

  Wash’s admission that he’d been right felt triumphant. He’d never seen Wash back down before, ever, but he still wanted to be sure that she fully understood what escape meant for both of them. Breaches of the Relic Guardian Force contract and air traffic violations were one thing, but a forced breakout of a holding cell was quite another. Especially if the cost came in lives.

  “Just how far are you willing to go, Wash?” said Griff, wanting to make sure his former commander understood the stakes.

  “I’ll leave that up to you,” replied Wash, before she skulked up to the cell door, watching to make sure the guard was still asleep. She then attached the skelly to the lock and activated it.

  Griff crept up next to Wash and watched the lights on the little device flash wildly. “That waste of space over there could wake up before this thing breaks the lock,” he complained, but Wash just shushed him.