“We need to move!” a woman called from the hatch of the ship. “Crush, come on!”
“Time to go,” Crush said. He turned and trotted toward the ship, then stopped and looked at them. “Ya comin’?”
“New plan,” Lucas nodded. “Follow the giant.” They moved across the landing pad and filed into the ship, finding themselves in a small cargo bay. As soon as they were in, the ship took off.
A slight man with sandy blond hair made his way to Lucas and brought a device up to his forehead. “I’m a doctor,” he said. “Mind if I take a look at that?”
Lucas shook his head and leaned back against the wall, letting the man work. He scanned, washed, and put a bandage on it. “Sorry for the rustic nature of this,” he muttered. “Getting low on bots, and something tells me I might need them for something more serious on a trip like this.”
Bots? As in nano-bots? Lucas frowned. When it was over the doctor stood back, looking at him. “That should do for now, anyway.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Call me Saran. And you’re welcome.”
He nodded at Saran. “This your ship?”
“Oh, no. I’m just a casualty of war, I’m afraid. You’ll have to go up to the cockpit if you want to speak with the lady in charge.”
The ship rocked to the side, jostling everyone in the cargo hold.
“Everybody just hang on to something!” a woman’s voice called. “We’re in for some more creative flying!”
Lucas followed the voice forward, to a small cockpit. Caspar was already standing in the back. The pilot and copilot chairs were occupied by women—one he had never seen, to the right, and one that he immediately recognized. The pilot.
“Oh,” he said.
“Guys, it’s getting crowded in here,” she said, eyes on her console. “Give me space to breath. Moses and I are trying to save all of your butts.”
Darren popped his head through the door, spotted the pilot, and, for perhaps the first time since Lucas had met him, looked surprised.
“Bet you’re glad we didn’t kill her now, aren’t you?” Lucas muttered.
“I heard that,” she said, eyes still forward. “Who’s trying to kill me now?”
“I believe they are,” Joyce said, pointing out the little viewport in front. Gatling-class flyers were zipping in and out of sight.
“Keep us low, Moses, keep us low,” the woman to the left said. Another tower loomed ahead. They accelerated toward it, banking at the last possible moment and swing around it like a tightly whipped slingshot. Lucas braced himself against the ceiling, thankful, for once, that he had the height to do it. This flying made Randall’s Pallas slingshot seem like a leisurely stroll by comparison.
But if the weaving in and out of buildings seemed like gambling with their lives, Lucas had to admit it seemed to be working; the Gatling fighters, a larger, heavier class than this ship, lacked the maneuverability to keep up. Soon they had left them far behind.
“I think we lost them,” Lucas said. The pilot twitched at his voice, but didn’t turn just yet. Her jaw and lips moved, as if she were talking to herself. Maybe it was a combat thing?
“Wishful thinking.” She pointed at a tactical display on her console. Lucas peered forward and saw the ships that had been pursuing them had broken off, but a wider net had been cast, and was closing.
The woman in the copilot seat shifted her weight, arms crossed. “You’d think they’d leave us alone, now that Dumbrador’s dead.”
Lucas shot her a glance. “Lady Umbrador?”
The woman peered at him. “What’s it to you? You don’t look pretty enough to be one of her… boys.”
“Now, now,” the pilot said, “play nice and keep the peace, Joyce. We can let Crush throttle our guests for answers after we’ve escaped certain death at the hands of the militarized cartel.” She paused. “Unless one of you is an outstanding pilot. In which case you should really be sitting in this chair speaking with Moses right now.”
“That’d be me.” Caspar pushed her way forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. She looked askance, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to call her bluff, shrugged, and removed an earring. “Put this on. Do what he says.” She handed it to Caspar and crawled out of the chair. Caspar put on the earring, looked surprised for a moment, then climbed into the chair and began finding her way with the console. It wasn’t long before her hands were flying, and the ship was jetting around even more wildly. Lucas hoped that was a good thing.
The woman turned and faced Lucas. Her face dropped.
“You.”
He shrugged. “Thanks for the ride.”
Chapter 22
“CRUSH!” Ada shoved her way back to the cargo hold. No. No way. Not them. “Why are these—these people onboard my ship?”
Bone Crusher was standing in front of the dispenser, holding a few cubes of ice to his swollen knuckles. From all the violence-doing, Ada supposed.
“Ada,” he sighed, smiling. “Yer doin’ it again. We talked about this, ya remember? It ain’t just your ship. ‘Sides, who broke you outta Carmen’s brig, if it wasn’t old Crusher?”
“Don’t you smile at me, you giant lump, you—you—” His cheeks began to sag. “You big loveable lifesaver. That doesn’t give you the right to force me to haul mortal enemies around.”
“Mortal enemies?” One of their men, a little older and tubbier than the rest, stood next to Bone Crusher. He had somehow coaxed a tumbler of more alcohol out. “What have I missed, Captain?”
“That’s our fault,” their captain said. He stepped into the cargo hold. “We never wanted to hurt you, miss. You may recall, we spared your life.”
“You took my core.”
“You took ours first.”
“No, I wasn’t even on the crew when they first attacked you and…” He lifted an eyebrow as she petered out. “And don’t ‘miss’ me. Don’t you dare.”
“Been trying not to.”
She spat in his face. He closed his eyes, wiping it away.
“I don’t care that my man over there has taken a liking to you. I don’t care what fine words you have, or even that the pirates I ran with drew first blood. You might as well have killed me. The fate you left me to… I mean, what did you think would happen? You took my core, which wasn’t mine to lose, you let Taurius go, with the Prophet—”
“Now wait a minute,” he interrupted. “Fair is fair. We could have played nicer. But your crew was the one that took Taurius and the drug away from us in the first place, and it was your ship he left when he escaped. The only reason you ended up in my brig is that we were trying to track him down. We’re still trying.”
Ada scowled, then turned to Bone Crusher. “Crush?” She pointed at the captain. “These are the people that killed Captain Brant.
Brant had been in charge of the vessel that had apprehended the Colonials to begin with, and when they had met again in Ceres’ orbit, Brant had been shot while the Colonials were retaking their bridge.
Brant had also been one of Bone Crusher’s very old friends.
The fist made contact with the face before Ada had time to blink. Their captain dropped at Crush’s feet, the gash on his forehead splitting open and bleeding again. Ada thanked her stars Crush hadn’t been angry with her when they’d been forced to pit-fight. She wouldn’t have lived through it.
“Get up,” Crush growled. “Stand up.”
The captain rolled onto his stomach, his mouth hanging open. “Why?” he groaned.
“Wanna hit ya again.”
“That seems… very unappealing,” he said.
Another man emerged from the shadows. Ada started. She hadn’t seen him there before. It was their fighter—the one who had done the killing, the one who had wanted to kill her. She swallowed against a dry throat. The man came to stand over the captain.
“Took you long enough,” the captain said. He rose to all fours, then flopped back over on his back. Crush could hit a man when he wanted to.
“Stay down,” the man said. He locked eyes with Crush. Crush squinted at him. For a tense moment, they stood there, neither saying a word, each staring the other down, like a couple of dogs. Finally, and to Ada’s eternal surprise, Crush backed away.
“I don’t like this one,” he mumbled, pointing at the other man.
“Me neither, Crush,” Ada said.
“Well, he’s with us.” Another of them, a young woman with a shock of red hair, came to stand between the men. She rested a hand on Crush’s bicep. Ada rolled her eyes. “You saved us, Crush, and we’re grateful. All of us.” She looked down at their captain. “Even him.”
“Especially me,” he said, pitifully raising a hand.
Crush grunted and left, heading into the living area.
“Why did he save you?” Ada asked, after he’d gone.
“He told us he thought we were a pair of assassins he was chasing. When he saw that wasn’t the case, but that we were all about to die back there in that elevator shaft, he said he would help us.” The redhead shrugged. “Guess he’s just a good person. Nice to know one still exists.”
“Pity,” Ada grumbled. She turned to leave them. “Ship’s small. You’ll have to stay in the cargo hold for now. Till we can land safely. Then you’re out.”
—
Their pilot was good, Ada had to admit. She took to flying Cupid like a fish in water. They tore up red dust, hugging the surface and careening through the outskirts of the massive settlement they’d come down in, finally breaking out into open Martian desert. Tactical showed most of the fighters had eventually let them be, keeping a patrol around the towers and then evacuating. Bombing runs had followed. No nukes this time, but the settlement was devastated all the same. Explosion followed explosion. Cupid ran.
“Where’d you get the AI?” she asked Ada.
Ada shrugged. “Family project. Started as a mining program. Tinkered with him over the years.”
The woman turned, eyes wide. “Mining program? Flies pretty well for, ah… mining.” She held out a hand. “I’m Caspar, by the way.” Ada looked at it.
“I don’t want to know you. I want you off my ship.”
“You’re welcome. For all the work I did back there to get us out of that.”
“Whatever. Where can you get off?”
Caspar scratched her head. “That was our comet-hopper you saw blown up back there. Came down from orbit in it. Best way to get rid of us for good would be to take us back up to the Fair—to our freighter.”
Freighter, right. Ada smirked. “Fine. Make it happen, then you’re gone.”
“Aye, aye.” Caspar gave a mock salute and resumed subvocalizing with Moses.
As they gained altitude, Ada tried to distract herself from her anger by taking stock. Umbrador was dead. Ada had planned to come here anyway to start hunting for her father’s trail, but now the army of evil druglords that seemed to be following her around the system and blowing everything up was demanding precedence. Find Taurius, find the Prophet. Find the Prophet, pay off the druglords. Pay off the druglords, and maybe she could live long enough to find out what had happened to her dad.
She was tired. She hadn’t stopped running since the day the hab had been bombed. But she couldn’t stop yet. She was like a tiny bird, one that couldn’t glide, and had flown too high. She had to keep flying, or she would fall.
She climbed into a bunk, wincing at the soreness in her limbs. Her back felt like one big bruise. She tried rolling onto her side, and something dug into her hip.
Right. Umbrador’s data stick. She pulled it from her pocket and turned it over in her hand. “Moses?” she subvocalized. She waited a full five seconds before remembering she wasn’t wearing the earpiece. Then she sighed, put the stick back in her pocket, and dozed.
—
She was back on Carmen’s hab, strolling down the corridor, when a wiry little man stepped out in front of her. “Quit yer runnin’!” he said. She turned to run, but stopped when she heard Moses’ voice.
“Ada.” She looked left and right, and saw an army of mining diggers surrounding her. She reached for a weapon, but all she found was a blanket. Desperately, she held it out in front of her, as if to ward of the diggers. “Ada!” Moses called. “ADA!”
“NO!” She flung the blanket off and sat up, slapping Joyce in the face. She was in the bunk on Cupid. Joyce frowned, holding a hand to her cheek.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“Sorry.” Ada ran a hand over her short hair and rubbed her face. “Nightmare. What’s up?”
“We’re on their ship.” Joyce held out her hand, and dropped Ada’s earring into her lap. “Gear up. We can leave as soon as you’d like.”
Back on the cockpit, Ada snapped the earring into place. “Moses, you there?”
“Hello, Ada. Nice to hear your voice again.”
She snorted. “You didn’t enjoy your hall-pass with Cassian?”
“Her name is Caspar. She’s a fine flyer. But you are my friend.”
Ada sat still for a moment. That was a weird thing for a computer to say. She wondered how close to sentience her mining program had come.
“We’re docked in a hangar, I assume,” she said.
“That’s right. Clear to leave as soon as you say. But you should have a look at something first.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
Her console screen flared up, showing a tactical scan. The ship they had docked with was surrounded by battleships.
Ada cursed.
“Ada, I’m receiving a request from the ship’s AI to show you a livefeed from the bridge.”
“Go ahead.”
The Colonial captain appeared on her screen, his face satisfyingly bruised and swollen. “I’m afraid we have a problem,” he began.
“You sure do,” she said. “You’ve trapped me on your ship again. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, I think I’ll kick your teeth out next time we’re breathing the same air.”
“Get in line,” he mumbled, bringing an ice pack to his eye. “At any rate, this wasn’t my idea. But the fleet that’s parked around us might make it a little difficult for you to get away.”
Ada frowned, her wheels turning. “Why aren’t they firing on you?”
The captain looked sheepish. “They, ah, well… they think we’re one of them.”
“They think it? Or are you? Seems awfully convenient, a new outfit starts making power grabs in the inner system, and a Kuiper Fleet flagship shows up in the middle of their formation. What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s not what you think, honestly. It’s complicated.”
She cussed at him. “I think it’s exactly what I think.”
“Hang on, they’re calling us,” he said. The feed ended.
Ada sat in her chair, deflated. Keep flying, or fall.
Chapter 23
Randall swore up and down he’d done his best to avoid getting boxed in, but he’d been helpless; sit and let the Roman ships surround them, or turn tail, abandoning the captain and most of the bridge crew, and likely get shot out of the sky on their retreat? In the end it hadn’t been much of a choice.
Now they were in the middle of a posse of battleships, souped-up freighters, Gatling fighters, and bombers, each and every one signaling the Rome Inc. ID. More and more, Lucas was buying his hypothesis that Rome was no new player, but the key player finally revealing themselves.
A familiar, hideous face graced the view screen. Lucas sighed, holding the icepack to his eye. “Hello, Cyclops.”
“Captain Harris.” Cyclops’ grin grew wide. “They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” He gave a little bow. “Who has blinded you?”
“Nobody. To what do we owe the pleasure of a full escort of Eaters?”
“I’ll answer your question after you answer mine. How did delivery go?”
Lucas clenched his jaw to keep his mouth from falling open. In all the madness, they hadn�
��t gotten around to offloading the freight yet.
“Ah, I can see by the look in your eye you’ve been a bad boy, Captain. But we both already knew that, didn’t we?”
“It’s not how it seems. We have no intention of leaving Mars without delivering your cargo; it’s still onboard, safe and sound. The job’s still on.”
“No.” Cyclops’ smile fell. “You have failed me. Once. But I’m a gambling man, Captain. I’ll have another go with you. Fail me again, and, well.” The grin returned.
Lucas nodded. “We’ll just be on our way down, then, as soon as you give us berth to navigate.”
“No need. Plans have changed, and the cargo will now be headed to Earth.”
Lucas was stunned. “Earth? As in… Earth, Earth?”
“Indeed. Oh, do not worry your little Kuiper Colony heart, Captain, you will be perfectly safe from the Empire. You are with Rome, remember? Stay in formation. We will escort you.” And just like that, the feed ended.
Lucas threw the icepack to the floor. “This detour isn’t getting any shorter.”
“Sir.” Caspar set down the mug of water she had been drinking. “If Taurius wasn’t at the Embassy, it may be a logical assumption that he is avoiding Mars altogether, where he’s a known entity.”
Lucas nodded. “Hard to blend in when you’re the face of the government. You think Earth might be a better place to look for him, don’t you?”
“It had occurred to me.”
“I think you’re just trying to buoy my spirits with a silver lining.”
“First time for everything, Sir.”
The bridge doors slid open and Private Tompkins stepped on. He saluted Lucas, grinning at Caspar. “Captain, Sir, you didn’t happen to accidentally slip and fall onto a certain Lieutenant’s fist, did you?”
“I’m not in the mood, Private,” Lucas growled, picking up his icepack. “But if you must know, no.”
Starship Fairfax: Books 1-3 Omnibus - The Kuiper Chronicles: The Lunar Gambit, The Hidden Prophet, The Neptune Contingency Page 23