The Lunar Gambit: Starship Fairfax Book 1 - The Kuiper Chronicles

by Benjamin Douglas

  “Oh, this’ll be fun,” he said. “They’re like those guys that aren’t allowed to let you see they can hear you, aren’t they?” He leaned against the bars and began blowing his breath gently on the guard. The guard blinked, but otherwise remained unperturbed,

  “Come on, come now,” Adams said. “Spare a little drop for a fellow creature in pain, wouldn’t you?” He blew harder, then as hard as he could, right into the guard’s eyes. The man staggered back, turning his head away. Adams began to laugh, but stopped as the man stood suddenly upright, his face alarmed. A tight, thin, black cord was wrapped around his throat. Lucas squinted into the darkness and saw a dark hand on either side. The guard gurgled, his face now beet-red. He was being garroted.

  It was over quickly. Nevertheless, Lucas looked away in disgust. No matter that he was locked in a prison cell beneath an alien ocean on a hostile world; he wanted his enemy to face him in a fair fight, he told himself. This was a coward’s killing.

  But when the guard had stopped moving, and their mysterious benefactor slipped out of the shadows, Mulligan’s face lit up with surprise—and joy.

  “Darren!”

  The stranger put a finger to his lips. Then he pulled out a little device, taking careful aim at the lock on their door. It emitted some sort of electrical current, Lucas decided, based on the gentle hum. A click, and the door swung open. Mulligan rushed forward and embraced him while he stood stoically still.

  He was as tall as Lucas, though not nearly as gangly. His height suited him. He was dressed plainly, in a pair of fitted but comfortable-looking black pants and a black shirt, his hair cut short over his dark face. To complete the look, his eyes gleamed like tiny black beads from over Mulligan’s shoulder. Lucas pursed his lips, wondering what sort of a man his security Private had just brought him in contact with.

  “We should go,” he said softly. His voice bore the stamp of command. Lucas and Adams were following the two of them out of the cell before Lucas even considered whether or not they should.

  “Wait,” Lucas called. “Forgetting something? Or someone?” He trotted to Caspar’s cell.

  “Nice of you to pick me up.”

  Mulligan’s “friend” only stopped when she put her hand on his arm. “She’s with us,” she told him. He nodded, jogged back, and looked in at Caspar. From the shadows, Lucas thought Caspar’s gaze on the newcomer was one of lingering appraisal.

  “Let’s go, buddy.” She clapped. “I’m ready for the rodeo.”

  He glared at her, then looked to Mulligan. Mulligan gestured for him to hurry. He unlocked the cell, and Caspar joined them.

  The man in black led them down the hall in the opposite direction than they had come. Lucas and Caspar took the rear.

  “I don’t like him,” Lucas whispered.

  “Me neither,” Caspar said.

  “Hmm.”

  —

  After yet another stairwell, and another ten minutes of walking, Lucas cleared his throat.

  “Hang on.” No one stopped. “Hey!” Adams and Caspar turned. “Aren’t we heading deeper into the enemy fortress, rather than back out? Does that seem odd to anyone but me?”

  Up ahead, Mulligan turned, frowning. “Keep up!” she whispered back.

  “No. Private, we need to talk.”

  The man in black hadn’t stopped, and was meters ahead. When Mulligan paused, he slowed, turning his head.

  “We need to go,” he said.

  “Go where?” Lucas crossed his arms, and immediately felt foolish. No, stand your ground, he told himself. He was the leader of this expedition, and he needed to know where they were headed.

  The man didn’t answer—just turned and kept moving.

  “C’mon!” Mulligan pleaded. “Uh… Sir.”

  “Where are you taking us, Private?”

  “What?” She scrunched up her eyebrows, hands spread wide. “I’m not taking you anywhere. Darren is getting us out of here.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Adams mumbled. He continued to clutch his wounded arm from time to time.

  Lucas’ comm sparked to life. He slapped at it, surprised.

  “… Sir? Are … still with you?”

  “Odin here. Come again?” He ran up the hall, searching for a stronger signal.

  “Oh, you’re alive, Sir! I’ll never doubt the universe again.”

  “Surprised though I am to say it, it’s good to hear your voice, Tompkins.” Lucas nodded at the others, who had all stopped now. “What’s going on up there? Hopper ok?”

  “Ahhhh, well…” There was a pause. “I don’t really know, Sir. I mean, that is to say, uh… we’re no longer in command of the comet-hopper, strictly speaking.”

  “What?! What did you do to our ship, Private?”

  “Yes, we’re fine, Sir, Kwon and I—thanks for asking. We got off in time, figured out she might not be secure anymore once we saw the small armory the inspection squad was packing.”

  Lucas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Adams was muttering curses, whether on the Ceres inspectors or on Tompkins and Kwon, he wasn’t sure.

  “Anyway, we’ve got an alternate, Sir. We’re sitting in her as we speak. So don’t worry about that.” Lucas’ eyebrows shot up. He looked around. The others were watching him with rapt attention—all but Darren, whom he assumed was scouting up ahead.

  “Great,” Lucas murmured. He couldn’t guess how those two had gotten their hands on another ship. It wasn’t as if they’d brought anything to barter with. “Does that mean we’ve lost contact with the Fairfax?” They’d rigged a secure line to the ship from the hopper, but without it, their coms weren’t calibrated to reach it on the other side of Pallas.

  “Yes, Sir, for the moment, but we are working on that.”

  “I am working on that.” Lucas heard Kwon’s voice over the com.

  “Yes, he is working on that. What about you, Sir? Any luck with the core?”

  The core. Lucas flushed, remembering why they needed Mulligan’s friend. “Working on it. Is your craft… uh… space-worthy, Tompkins?”

  “Fit as a fiddle, Sir. We’re not far from where you left us, still parked at the Rust docks, just a couple of rows down. Looks like… Gate 4, Dock A-5.”

  “Did he say down?” Adams asked, his eyes gleaming. The lower docks had appeared to be built for larger ships.

  “Good.” Lucas shushed him. “Sit tight. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”

  “Aye, Sir. Looking forward to it.”

  “You have a ship,” a voice said from behind Lucas. He jumped a little, involuntarily. Darren slipped out of the shadows and joined them from behind. From the opposite direction in which he had disappeared.

  “Yes,” Mulligan said, coming to his side. “But it needs repairs. A core. Otherwise we’re stranded here.”

  “It’s true,” Lucas said. He nodded at her. “Mulligan said you’re a man to be trusted, who can help us get what we need to patch her up.”

  “You need a core.”

  Lucas suppressed a sigh. “That’s what she said.” They all stood quietly for a moment, waiting to hear Darren offer his help. When he finally spoke, he pointed ahead down the hallway.

  “Best way out is through ventilation. Old system. Plenty of space. No one watching it now, they’re all too busy.”

  “Too busy fending off the force that marched in through the Grotto?” Lucas asked. “Is that an Arms regiment? You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He looked pointedly at Darren, who seemed to ignore him.

  “Darren’s been imprisoned here!” Mulligan said. “He didn’t come in with those people. He was in a cell until… well, until recently?” She looked at him. He nodded.

  Lucas quirked his lips to the side.

  “Sir,” Caspar said. “Maybe we should get out of here while the tenants are distracted, at least. Surely we can suss out the rest once we’re freely strolling down the streets of Rust.”

  “Or over a foamy mug,” Adams m
uttered.

  Lucas shook his head. “Alright. Lead on, man of mystery.” He made eye contact with Mulligan and tried to impress the severity of the situation on her, but she only beamed back at him for his acquiescence.

  “After the day we’ve had,” he said to Adams, “I might join you for that drink.”

  Chapter 12

  The air ducts were even cozier than the tunnels of the Grotto, but at least they were dry and free of corpses. Darren continued to lead them, so Lucas took up the rear, trying his best both to cover their retreat and keep an eye on what was happening ahead. He didn’t like having to rely on someone he didn’t know if he could trust. Every time he tried telling himself to trust Mulligan’s judgment, his mind’s eye saw Darren garroting the guard.

  They crawled through a long, long tunnel, with just enough space to move, but not enough to stand, even stooped, or to move in pairs. Lucas followed Adams, who wheezed as he padded along. Caspar and Mulligan were ahead next, each with a flashlight. Far ahead, he saw Darren’s shadow stop and wait for them from time to time. The man moved deftly, silently, and deceptively quickly.

  Low-level enforcer. Lucas snorted.

  They passed an intersection, a duct branching off to either side, but kept going in a relentlessly straight line. Lucas’ knees began to ache. They would hurt in the morning, but it couldn’t be helped. He gritted his teeth and kept moving.

  After what felt like hours of sweaty crawling, Darren stopped them.

  “This duct is ten times the size of the bloody building it ventilates.” Adams wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Suppose we’re nearing the surface?”

  Lucas scoffed. They hadn’t climbed in elevation. But it had seemed a longer crawl than the distance they had covered in the Grotto. He wondered where the duct led.

  Caspar turned to face them, a finger on her lips. Adams did his best to quiet his wheezing, but it seemed to Lucas it was only getting louder.

  “Hey,” he whispered, grabbing Adams’ boot. “You ok? You sound rough, Adams.”

  Adams exhaled, forcefully. “Huh? I was holding my breath to listen. What?”

  Lucas frowned, listening again. The sound wasn’t Adams at all. But it was getting louder.

  Or closer.

  “We have to move faster,” Darren said. “Now!” He took off crawling at a pace Lucas might have struggled to reach while sprinting. Not that he could have caught up behind Adams, anyway. They did their best to match him, but it just wasn’t going to happen.

  “What is that?” Caspar said between gulps of air.

  “Maintenance bot,” Darren called over his shoulder.

  Adams cursed, loudly and colorfully. “Oh, that’ve been nice to know about before we all packed in like meat in a grinder!”

  The sound had grown into an angry whirring. Caspar shone her flashlight back. “Duck,” she said. Lucas and Adams lay flat, looking back.

  “Think we can just disable it?” Mulligan said.

  The light illuminated a hellish mouth of blades chomping and spinning as the machine advanced, an occasional fiery glow emanating from beyond. It was moving slowly enough to be evaded on foot, but here, in this duct, stuck behind a row of other crawlers? It was moving all too quickly.

  “Nope!” Caspar turned back around, taking the light with her. “That thing’s all teeth. Move!”

  “You won’t make it.” Darren had turned from far ahead. Caspar scoffed.

  “Do you ever tire of observing the unfortunately obvious out loud?”

  “We need to get out of the ducts.”

  “Brilliant idea. How shall we do it?”

  Lucas squinted back, wondering if the bot had reached the intersection they’d passed before. Yes, he decided. It was far beyond that now. They were stuck. “Can we blast through the—”

  He stopped, mid-sentence, as Darren shot a sustained blast at the floor of the vent a few feet ahead. He traced a perfect square, then kicked through it. A second passed before they heard it clatter on the ground of whatever space lay below.

  “You had a weapon?” Lucas said. “Why didn’t you use it on the guard back there, like a civilized person?”

  Darren shot him a look just long enough to say, “Wait here,” then dropped through the hole.

  “Yeah, right.” Lucas pulled his blaster pistol and patted Adams on the leg. “Get moving, Adams. Before he chokes anyone else.”

  Adams grunted and began edging forward. Darren’s hand popped up through the hole, and he helped Mulligan down. Caspar leapt through on her own. Adams turned his sweaty face back to Lucas. “Drop me over, will you?”

  Lucas sighed and helped him down.

  The space below was a massive room. Thankfully the ceiling wasn’t particularly high, and they had dropped down over one in a long row of stainless steel tables. The metal glinted in the cold light from neon overheads.

  “What is this place?” Lucas said. Many of the tables looked like they were stocked for medical care, but there wasn’t a body—moving or otherwise—in sight.

  “Hospital?” Adams shrugged.

  “Lab,” Darren said. “For experiments.”

  “Where is everybody?” Caspar had drawn her weapon and was moving slowly down the aisle of tables, checking their points. Lucas joined her.

  Darren headed toward a corner of the far end of the room. “This way.”

  “To where?” Lucas said.

  Darren didn’t answer. They fanned into a tight formation and followed. Mulligan stayed close to Darren. In the large, quiet room, Lucas couldn’t help but hear their muted conversation.

  “You shouldn’t return to your ship,” he said to her.

  “Why not? Think we can’t handle a few space pirates?”

  “You said they damaged it beyond repair.”

  “No, I said they damaged her and she needs repairs. That’s why we came to find you. To help us get a core.”

  “It’s not safe here right now,” he said. “But even less in the space around Ceres.”

  She peered over at him. “You know something, don’t you? I mean, more than the obvious. You have intel. What’s going to happen up there?”

  He walked on in silence for a moment. “It’s no place for a Fleet ship,” he finally said.

  Mulligan stopped. “Who told you we were with the Fleet, Darren?”

  He kept walking, and she raced up to join him. “Look, we really need your help, ok? It’s more than just the damage. We got held up. Pirates took all our nukes, of all things. Depleted our armory. We’re not just sitting ducks without repairs; we’re defenseless, too. Get us a core, and we can get out of here.”

  Lucas held his breath. He could have sworn he saw something in Darren’s gait change when Mulligan told him about the nukes. What was she doing? What if this political agitator couldn’t be trusted? Had she just handed their lives over to him on a silver platter?

  Darren stopped, turned, and looked Lucas in the eye.

  “I’ll help you,” he said. “I’ll get you a core and get you out of here.”

  “Well,” Lucas said, spreading his arms in bewilderment. “Thank you.”

  “One on condition. You take me with you.”

  “Of course,” Mulligan said.

  Lucas squinted at him. “You want passage off of Ceres? If you have enough connections to get us what we need, can’t you arrange for your own transport?”

  Darren folded his arms, waiting.

  Lucas’ comm crackled to life. “Sir? Sir, you there?”

  “This is Odin,” he answered. “What’s up, Tompkins?”

  “Sir, we’ve managed to reestablish contact with the Fairfax. They are reporting a significant increase in air traffic on and around Ceres, including an increase in official Empire military vessels.”

  “Is Randall keeping it together up there?”

  “Not sure he has much of a choice, Sir, seeing as they don’t have a core or an engineer at the moment. She’s still anchored behind Pallas. But, ah… it is their r
equest that we get our butts off-world and back onboard ASAP. Respectfully, Sir.”

  “Understood.”

  Lucas turned back to Darren. “I don’t know you,” he said.

  Darren shrugged impassively. “I don’t know you.”

  Lucas nodded. “Alright. You get us a core, quickly and quietly, and you can hitch a ride with us out of the belt. We’re headed for the nearest neutral hab-zone. You can get off there.”

  “Titan,” Darren said. He tilted his head in assent. “Let’s go.”

  They left the room for yet another corridor, this one shorter than the others. As they passed a room with large windows looking onto the hallway, they heard voices. They all dropped to a crawl to sneak past, but not before Lucas caught a glimpse of a couple of guards lounging in the room. Past the windows there was a reinforced door, and beside it, a console. Darren used it for a moment, the door hissed quietly open, and, like that, they left the mafia fortress and reemerged onto the streets of Rust.

  From the outside, the door was quite inconspicuous, hidden away behind a pile of refuse around the corner of a grubby-looking eatery. Lucas would have assumed it to be a service door of some kind. Ingenious, he supposed. For all the trouble they had gone through playing dead, hiding in coffins, and coming up through the dungeons of the Grotto, the back door of the Amsel Brothers’ fortress was hiding in plain sight.

  Darren led them to a hover-train station, where they rode an elevator up to wait in line at a small dock. The train hissed in, suspended by powerful magnets. “This would’ve saved some time before,” Adams muttered. “Though I suppose it’s hard to get on without some kind of documentation.”

  “I’m getting the feeling he’s all the documentation we need down here,” Lucas said, nodding at Darren. He was speaking quietly with a guard at the side of the rail. When the train came to a halt, the guard let them board first.

  It was a quiet ride. The train glided soundlessly along its track a couple of dozen meters over the city streets. Darren sat stoically, as always. The rest of them sniffed and fidgeted on the hard plastic benches, but no one said a word. Lucas considered checking in with Tompkins again, but thought better of it. No point in risking the other passengers overhearing the wrong bit of information.