“That’s not why I’m sore.” Shaw flexed the fingers of her prosthetic hand and curled them into a fist. “It’s a little more personal than that.”
“Well, it’s personal to me when you threaten my people,” Bechet growled back.
Shaw glanced at the external view display. They were catching up to the Johnson. Bechet might have been able to fire his engines, but with his ship newly powered up, he wasn’t yet able to attain full speed. Soon, she’d be able to wipe that insufferable grin off his face.
“Then just give yourself up,” she said. “And I’ll let your people go.”
He stopped grinning. There was a moment of hesitation on his face, as if he was considering her offer. Interesting. So, it wasn’t a bluff that he cared about his crew.
Then his grin returned at full wattage. “Nah.”
She let that sit there for a few seconds. Not that she expected him to capitulate, but she wanted to give him the chance to consider the folly of his actions before his inevitable demise. Her two officers sat at their stations with their heads turned to her, riveted and waiting.
“Jibs?” she said in a cool, steady voice, keeping the comms open so Remy could be under absolutely no misapprehension. “Prepare to fire everything we have as soon as they’re in range. Everything.”
“Yes, Commander,” Jibs squawked.
“Shaw, Shaw, Shaw,” Remy drawled over the comms. “You sure you want to do this? Don’t make me take that other arm.”
She clenched her robotic hand into a fist and punched it through the screen, sending a shower of glass and sparks all over the bridge, forcing both Zain and Jibs to duck down.
The comms channel transferred to a screen off to the side where Bechet was grinning even more, if that were possible. He knew he had gotten to her. Knew that he could push her buttons.
“Does the UNSF have anger-management classes, or something like that? Cuz, jeez, lady, you got a temper,” the pirate said smugly.
“You have no idea,” she responded through gritted teeth.
The pirate captain looked sideways and then back into the camera. “This should be interesting. We’ve got full power now.” He winked at her, and the screen went blank.
Galactic Blues
Episode 3:
Mean Old World
A Newton’s Gate serial
by
C.J. Clemens
Copyright © 2018
C.J. Clemens
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the authors’ imaginations and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, businesses, and individuals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For more information, visit the authors’ website: NewtonsGate.com
For Andy and Chris...
two brothers who have given us unwavering support.
Chapter 1
REMY
“‘Don’t make me take that other arm,’” Dreyla quoted. “Well, that was harsh.”
Captain Remy Bechet glanced up from his console, where he’d been scanning the R.L. Johnson for damage. “That was me holding myself back, gentleman that I am.”
Dreyla bit her lip and stared at one of her screens. “Seems like Shaw’s ship is trying to close the distance. Probably to get within blasting range.” She met Remy’s gaze. “She’s real pissed. The way she cut off comms like that? Maybe we should’ve tried to negotiate something.”
“Yeah, like she tried to negotiate that large blade across your neck,” Remy replied, then looked down, scrambling to recalibrate the ship’s weapons that had been knocked off due to the previous encounter. “Cuz that’s how she does negotiation. Real to the point like.”
Silence from Drey’s station. He glanced up again.
Her face tightened, then after a few seconds, she nodded. He hated to be the one to remind her of their first and nearly last encounter with Commander Tara Shaw, but sometimes, he needed to temper Dreyla’s youthful optimism for her own self-preservation.
“You keep watch on the debris from behind.” He indicated the rear-view displays that showed pieces of the exploded Kapriano hurtling through space, way too close for comfort. “I’ll keep fixing this.” He let out a sigh. “Auto-calibration’s dead. Have to do it the hard way.”
After a few minutes of tediously jabbing controls and checking connections, he added, “Damn, I wish we’d gotten them all with that clever bomb of yours.” He gazed at her. “But you did a helluva job, little one.”
She blasted debris in three rapid shots and cocked her head at him. “Don’t call me that.”
He grinned. “I forget sometimes. You could probably take me down in a fight.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right.”
Remy didn’t answer. He was scanning a display of everything in the quadrant. It was getting a bit more crowded than he generally liked.
“Is it just me or do they seem to be catching up with us?” Dreyla asked.
“Yeah. Tea break’s over.”
“Did someone say tea break?” Tosh wandered back onto the bridge, a glazed look in his eyes. It was hard to believe the old doctor had posed as a badass captain just a little while ago.
“Doc, did you just shoot up?” Remy snapped.
Tosh held his gaze but only fleetingly. “Well, if we’re gonna die, I might as well fly,” he mumbled.
As he shuffled toward an empty rear seat with exaggerated care, he uttered a few more incoherent words, but Remy didn’t have time to ask for clarification.
“Sit down and buckle up,” he said instead. “This ride’s about to get crazy.”
He hit one of the controls, and immediately, the blues guitar of Tab Benoit rang out on every functional speaker throughout the old pirate ship. Another of his favorites. Another gem that Dreyla probably hated. This time, she said nothing, just hunched herself stiffly over her controls, refusing to look at him. Which naturally made him smile. Playing this album always reminded him of seeing Tab perform—once, long before the incident at Newton’s Gate changed the world.
The concert had taken place in New Orleans. Remy couldn’t remember the name of the venue. Of course, once the catastrophic explosion at Newton’s Gate had occurred, resulting in the opening of various portals, New Orleans had been one of several cities on Earth that had mysteriously vanished. Regrettably, old Benoit had disappeared right along with it.
Hard to believe that was twenty years ago. A lot of crazy shit had happened since then, but playing the classics allowed him to pretend he was still back there, in a simpler world, in a simpler time.
Just after the incident, he had joined up with a long-haul crew that transferred supplies out to the Belt. A month later, he had switched to a pirate crew and was in the life from then on.
“We’re heading back to the edge of the Holcom Range,” he announced.
While Newton’s Gate lay between the Earth and its moon, the explosion had caused portals to appear all over the planet, all over the solar system, and, presumably, all over the universe. Some of them were always open, allowing a person to travel from one place to another. Sometimes, one planet to another. Remy had even heard of some that lead to alternate Earths. He didn’t want to even try wrapping his head around that. What would the blues music sound like on an alternate Earth? Would there even be any blues?
Dreyla was looking at her nav monitor. “You’re not by any chance thinking about trying to maneuver through the field again?”
“Sort of,” he said.
He didn’t want to cross the deadly asteroid field twice in one day, but he couldn’t avoid it completely. He needed to find the easiest path along the edge of the Range that led to one of the few portals he’d seen this far out in the Belt. A portal
he intended to fly through, as he’d done once before.
In a fit of desperation about ten years ago, he’d used it when he needed an escape route from a few pesky blades. Without hesitation, he’d flown the R.L. Johnson through the portal, which had luckily popped them out on the dark side of the moon. This was the real reason he’d told Dreyla earlier to find a less death-defying route through the Range. Once there, he knew how to locate the portal, which he planned to utilize for their getaway. He just had to shake Commander Shaw and his old pal Captain Jason Pike.
The mournful twangs of Tab’s guitar continued to fill the bridge as Remy maneuvered around some large asteroids.
“That, uh, story about you flying the Jay through a portal,” Dreyla said, in a tone that indicated she could read his mind. Which she absolutely could.
“Yep?”
“That wasn’t just some bullshit pirate’s tale?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, man, I remember that,” Tosh piped up, then glanced at Dreyla. “Long before you were here.”
Dreyla swiveled her head from Tosh and then back to Remy.
Poor girl looked exhausted and overwhelmed. She wouldn’t be the one coming up with any brilliant solutions this time.
It was his turn to come up with the crazy plan.
A bone-jarring shudder told him their pursuers had started firing again.
“Dreyla, switch to front view,” Remy shouted, grasping his own gunner controls.
They were in range of the other two ships, but just barely, so by zigzagging the Jay, he managed to avoid the blasts… for the most part. The ship rocked back and forth several times with “minor” explosions, but she kept flying. And he couldn’t ask more of her than that.
“Popped us out on the dark side of the moon,” Tosh rambled, waving his hands in the air. “That was cool.”
Remy ignored him and returned fire on the enemy ships, tagging the command blade a couple of times but not doing much to slow her down. There was little chance now of blasting Shaw out of the galaxy. All they could hope to do was survive long enough to reach the portal.
“That was also the name of a Pink Floyd album,” Tosh continued.
Remy shook his head, spraying droplets of sweat onto his console. The old man sure picked his moments for trips down memory lane.
“Pink what?” Dreyla twisted to look at Tosh.
“The Dark Side of the Moon,” Remy cut in sharply. “A band called Pink Floyd had an album called that. But maybe we can discuss it later.”
He pummeled the trigger a few times at Pike’s wing and winced as the return fire missed the Jay’s starboard side by mere meters. Pike appeared every bit as keen as Shaw to blow them to smithereens.
He flashed Dreyla a smile as they continued to shoot while taking fire.
She must’ve detected the strain in his face because she shrank into her seat and asked in a soft voice, “Are we gonna make it?”
Chapter 2
LILLY
Sheriff Lilly Greyson stood outside her penthouse door. It was already unlocked. She had foolishly given her wayward brother the entry code. She’d have to amend that.
The pungent, savory scent of burning meat wafted around her before she’d even crossed the threshold.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lilly stood in the kitchen doorway, crossing her arms.
The meat smell was coming from the prime broncan steak she’d been saving to share with Brand as part of a welcome dinner for her new deputy.
Nate stood with his back to her, focusing on the pan. He flipped the steak, and the sizable piece of meat started searing, making her salivate.
He turned in a fluid motion, his rangy body belying his athleticism just as his quirky, mischievous grin masked his cleverness, not that he ever made use of either. With his narrow face, brown mussed hair, and green eyes, he was the spitting image of their deceased father while she had inherited their mother’s darker looks.
“I was feeling kinda peckish and I saw this lying in your fridge, so…”
“I paid half a day’s salary for that.”
His eyes widened. “Is it broncan?”
She huffed and stepped toward the fridge. “Don’t pretend you care.”
The broncan were a large herding animal imported by the dworgs from their home planet. Short and all as they were, the dworgs were a hearty lot who burned through calories at double the rate of the average human. The broncan, while common on their native planet, had a hard time adjusting to the climate on Vox and were thus exorbitantly expensive… but pretty damn tasty.
“I’ll split it with you,” Nate offered.
For all his troublemaker tendencies, he hated being the bad guy.
Instead of answering, she shoved him away from the stove and turned off the burner.
“You can’t stop cooking it in the middle,” he drawled. “It won’t come out right.”
She looked at the steak, jabbed the burner back on, and swung around to him again. “What are you doing?”
Nate frowned. “Uh, I just told you…”
“Not the meat, you ass. Yercer Taul! I mean, what the hell were you thinking?”
Nate flinched then dipped his head and examined his dusty boots, eyeballs darting to and fro under his eyelids, indicating some level of brain activity.
“You didn’t know he was involved?”
Her brother shook his head.
“Well, maybe next time you should find out about all the parties involved in your dumbass schemes.”
“Honestly, Sis.” Nate caught her gaze, his eyes ablaze with contrition. “I would never have done that.” He slunk back toward the table and slumped down, cradling his jaw in his thin fingers.
She couldn’t tell if it was all an act or not.
“Where’d you get the packaging then?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Just this guy I know.”
Lilly drew herself to her full height and narrowed her eyes at him. After twenty-nine years of coexistence, he should know better than to play this game with her. He should also know she wasn’t past blasting him where it would hurt for days if he didn’t cooperate, family ties be damned.
He nodded rapidly, as if sensing her vibe. “Three months ago, with the shipment of nano-biotics, there was this small crate of empty packaging.”
Lilly’s lip curled. A likely story.
“Seriously. Grenald—”
“Grenald?” she snapped.
“Yeah, he’s one of the medics that bring the shipments in.”
A smoky smell alerted her. She turned around, flipped the steak, and reduced the flame on the burner. It gave her time to think. “He’s stealing from the Med-council?”
“No, it’s just that every once in a while, a miscellaneous crate ends up on board.” Nate’s hand waved vaguely.
“By magic?”
He smirked. “Serendipity.”
“What kind of miscellaneous crate?”
“You know, uh, supplies.”
“You mean narcotics?”
A pause. “Sometimes.”
She shifted her gaze out the window, unable to bear the sight of him. “Well, I hope you’re prepared to do hard time in the Tyson Mines,” she said in a tight, quiet voice.
The mines belonged to the city of Naillik and helped to fund the local government, including the sheriff’s station. Some of the miners there were voluntary, but for others, working in the mines served as punishment for breaking the law.
When she turned back, Nate’s expression was wary, but ultimately untroubled.
She forced her mind and her heart into full-on professional mode. “Brother or not… I’m sheriff in this town, and if I catch you, you’ll spend six months in the hospital and then do hard time in the mines, just like anyone else dealing that poison to the residents of Naillik.”
Nate’s nervous look vanished as he began his rationalization. He was awfully good at convincing others and himself of his “near” innocence. “Listen
, I don’t deal with narcotics, not really. Grenald has some contact in Bane he delivers that kind of stuff to.”
The first note of unease had entered her brother’s voice, and it gave her a twinge of satisfaction. It was a miracle he wasn’t already working in the mines. No, not a miracle. He had her to thank for saving his ass so many times. She had pulled him out of trouble ever since he’d arrived on Vox. Even scrupulous Tim had either looked the other way or not followed through on charges whenever he’d catch Nate embroiled in one con or another. Tim had always done it… for her.
She actually believed her brother this time, though. Not because Nate was above selling drugs, but because there would be more profit in moving the junk through Bane.
“Look at me. You ever… ever… pass fake meds in Naillik or in any other town again, and I am personally gonna throw you in the mines myself. Do I make myself clear?”
He nodded reluctantly.
“Now get the hell outta my place.”
Nate glanced at the broncan steak, now giving off an aroma of well-cooked meat.
“Not a chance,” she growled. “Out.”
At least Nate was smart enough to recognize an impossible situation. He grabbed his small backpack from the table and left the kitchen without another word or a parting glance. A few seconds later, she heard the front door open and close. Finally, she released her breath.
She plated the steak and scooped up some jumo roots that Nate had boiled. After grabbing a fork and knife, she carried her dish into the living room and sat down in a large lounge chair. This was a big hunk of steak for one woman, but it had been an exhausting day and she intended to wolf it all down.
“Monitor on,” she ordered mid-chew.
The Vox-P News was issuing its afternoon report, which seemed eerily appropriate. A reporter was discussing the shipment of nano-biotics that was on the way to the planet. Since they only received shipments every three months, and since working on this planet pretty much required the meds to survive, talk of the shipment always snagged people’s attention.
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