Wings of Earth- Season One

by Eric Michael Craig

  One man sat in the center of the room in front of a small table, a silhouette against the glare. He was motionless and apparently admiring the view. Without turning, he held both hands out to the side like he was trying to show them he was unarmed.

  “Captain Walker I have a job for you.”

  Ethan’s blood turned to concrete, and his heart choked to a stop.

  He knew the voice.

  Kendrick Jetaar.

  “Oh, hell no!” Ammo said, taking a step back toward the lift.

  The pirate captain stood up and turned in their direction, keeping his hands stretched wide to the side.

  “This misogynistic flatbrain has a job for you,” he said. “That’s all.”

  “What she said,” Ethan said, pointing at his broker and starting to back away himself. “Last time we talked, I think you were trying to make me dead. Us dead.”

  “Actually, the last time we talked, you were saving my crew,” he said. “That’s a debt I seek to square.”

  Ethan shook his head. He would have turned to leave, but he didn’t trust that his odds of surviving with his back exposed were worth the wager. “Nope. There’s no way you’ve got anything I want or need.”

  Jetaar laughed, and it brought back a memory of a previous time he’d heard the pirate drag humor out of his soul. It wasn’t a pleasant remembrance.

  “Seriously, no. Nothing.”

  “If you say so.” Jetaar shrugged turning back to face the window. “But you might want to know that another colony has disappeared.”

  Chapter Eight

  Something in Jetaar’s manner, even from the brief exposure they had, told Ethan that the pirate captain knew he was holding all the chits. If they’d been in space, it might not have been as terrifying a prospect as it was standing in an office face to face.

  ‘Another colony missing’ was a question that begged answers, but survival instinct told him it would be a bad idea to linger and ask for details.

  Ultimately, Jetaar let them go without a problem and Sinthya Darvelle rode back to the Elite Terminal at the airport with them. Having her as an escort meant they didn’t need to brave the afternoon heat in Capital City Overground, and she whisked them past the check in kiosk and onto a chartered jump-jet back to Trinity Island.

  At the bottom of the boarding ramp she stopped and smiled. “I look forward to meeting with you again, Captain Walker.” She was all business, even if she was representing a stone-dead killer.

  He nodded politely and ducked inside the cabin without a word.

  “Do you think she knows who she’s working for?” Ammo asked as she settled into a seat halfway to the rear of the small aircraft.

  “I don’t care,” he said, dropping into the seat beside her. “It doesn’t stack square no matter which way it plays out. The only possibility I see is to get the frak away.”

  Ethan looked nervously around the cabin. So far, they were alone, and by the way the stewards were securing the boarding ramps and locking down the doors, it appeared they were the only passengers. In spite of that, he lowered his voice. “I’d turn him in, but he’s probably the one watching us. He let us walk too easy.”

  “He did let us walk but I don’t think it makes sense that he’s the one tailing us. Although I’m sure that if we cross him, our life expectancy is shorter than the shelf-life of an iceman in hell,” she said.

  The hydrogen jets spun up as the aircraft pushed back from the terminal and angled toward a launch position. The rumble made it hard to talk, but if they leaned in close, it also covered their voices. “Why don’t you think it’s him following us?”

  She reclined in her seat and let out a slow breath. Chewing on her lip, she shook her head. “I don’t see how it could be unless he’s tied to the Institute somehow. And that just doesn’t fit.”

  “How sure were you that the one following you yesterday was a STIF? Kai had a TAC, so plussers can use them too.”

  She blinked and rolled a hairy eyeball in his direction. “I do know that, but she didn’t have the pheromone fog.”

  “Neither did Legs McDarvelle,” he said.

  “You noticed yourself that she wasn’t one, but I checked to make sure. I landed in her lap remember. I guarantee she’s not enhanced.” She held up her hand and waggled her fingers. She was wearing her Urah Un.

  “I’m not wearing mine,” he said. “I had it on too long yesterday and forgot I was wearing it when I accidentally touched one of those sea snakes. I woke up dreaming about breathing water.”

  “As long as you weren’t face down in the hot tub that’s alright. But it explains why you’re a grumpy old flatch today.” She winked.

  Unlike the other aircraft this one launched up through a narrow hole in the canopy of trees and then lunged forward with a kick of raw acceleration. Once they got to speed, the engines quieted down, and the stewards unmounted a serving cart and pushed it up the aisle toward them. They had three attendants for only the two of them, so it quickly became clear that they wouldn’t get much privacy.

  After the first wave of drinks, and then snacks, and then a round of pillow fluffing, and an offering of tri-vid services, Ethan’s patience had ceased to exist. Ammo convinced them that it would be easier on everybody if they kept their distance for the twenty-five-minute flight across the continent.

  “You can just walk away from this?” she asked as the last of the solicitous attendants sulked off.

  “Yes.”

  “But Kaycee needs to know,” she said. “It’s why she signed on to the Dawn and this is the first time we’ve caught wind of anything that might be a lead.”

  He sighed but shook his head. “We’ve got no reason to believe Jetaar. There’s nothing on the newswave anywhere about a colony going down.”

  “If you hadn’t brought out survivors from Starlight, would there have been any coverage on it?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted.

  “From what Kaycee said, it seems like someone’s been actively trying to bury anything about Starlight too. She and Nuko both said Elias’ work had been dropped off the grid.”

  “Also valid,” he agreed, reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean Jetaar knows anything about it or another supposed colony. For frak sake, he is a pirate. Do you think he wouldn’t do or say anything to get what he wants?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure he would, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some truth behind what he said.”

  “Alright, let’s say for the sake of argument there is something there. That leaves me with two questions. How did he know this would be important enough to dangle in front of us, and what does he need from us that would be worth the risk of opening this door?”

  She frowned. He saw that she’d been chewing on the same issues. Finally, she shrugged. “Maybe we can dig some more out of him before we write it off.”

  “How?”

  “Invite him into our turf and see if he likes to dance. If nothing else, we owe Kaycee that much.”

  He closed his eyes and drummed his fingertips together in front of his face while he tried to convince himself there was a better idea. Nothing leapt forward, so he nodded. She was right. “Let’s get Angel and Quinn behind us and figure it out. I don’t like it, but I don’t think we have a choice.”

  Let me handle the arrangements, she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

  He opened one eye and glared at her. “Just make sure everyone knows we don’t tell Kaycee until we know more.”

  Chapter Nine

  Like every other place on Larcossa Cove, everything about the design of the Driftwood worked to make a person feel like they were alone in the world. Hidden among the fernpalm trees on the top of a three-hundred-meter white stone cliff, it was barely visible from anywhere. It had its own private jumpjet port hidden just beyond a towering rock outcropping which meant it had good access from anywhere. And despite the dense canopy of trees, it also had a view out in every direction. That made it an ideal place for them to meet w
ith Captain Jetaar because of its simple tactical advantages.

  Unfortunately, the design of the interior made it almost impossible for Angel and Quinn to get a line of sight on Ethan’s table from anywhere inside the building itself. They’d arrived several hours earlier to reserve a booth and recon the best places for Quinn and Angel to keep an eye on things. After a great deal of finagling with the manager, they’d come up with a plan. Quinn would sit at the bar watching from the only place where the booth was visible, and Angel would sit on the edge of the dancefloor watching Quinn and the main entrance.

  Marti would stay in the booth and feed an optic line to smart-eye lenses that the handlers would wear.

  That’s where the big stink started. The Driftwood had a problem with robots.

  The entire building had been built from native woods and natural elements to evoke the impression of a time when technology served humanity from a much more subservient place. Marti’s synthetic appearance was an affront to the whole concept. After over an hour of negotiation and a personal gratuity with more than a few zeros in it, Ammo had come up with a compromise. It was absurd, and convoluted, but it did get the automech to the table, providing she didn’t walk through the guest areas, and remained deactivated throughout their entire visit.

  Fortunately, there was a service lift to each booth from the kitchen in the sub-basement, so the staff loaded Marti into, and then muscled her deadweight body out of, the lift and into a seat at the table.

  Of course, she didn’t shut off, just powered down outwardly. She gave the appearance of being dead but then the manager came by to check that they’d complied with her instructions. She was decidedly unhappy seeing a deceased looking robotic corpse propped up in a seat. Another gratuity exchanged hands before she had her staff install a privacy drape across the entrance to their booth area.

  “All this just to talk to somebody we don’t want to talk to in the first place,” Ammo said, as she sat next to Marti in the booth seat.

  “Just remind yourself we’re doing this for Kaycee,” Ethan said. He and Ammo both wore miniature commlinks and earpieces, as did Angel and Quinn. Marti kept her optics live but left her face projection turned off, just to be safe. The wait-staff had a habit of popping in unannounced to bring drinks or appetizers, or just to be annoying.

  “I think he’s here,” Angel whispered. “He’s got two handlers and a brunette with legs all the way to low orbit.”

  “That will be Legs McDarvelle,” Ammo said.

  “They’re heading to a table near Quinn,” she said.

  “I’ve got them,” he said.

  “Where’s Jetaar?” Ethan asked.

  “Manager’s snagged him and they’re walking toward you.” Angel’s voice sounded tight. “Ten seconds.”

  “He’s carrying a bag,” Quinn said. “Keep an eye on it.”

  “Understood,” Ammo whispered. They could hear footfalls outside their drape.

  “Captain Walker, Mr. Brendan Pierce is here to join you,” the manager said, stopping outside to wait.

  She pulled the curtain back and glanced at Marti before she frowned. The automech sat beside Ammo appearing lifeless, but she clearly didn’t approve of a machine enjoying a position at a table in her establishment.

  Ethan nodded, and she stepped back holding the drape open for Jetaar.

  He wore a semi-formal coat and a colorful neckpiece over double fly breeches and knee-length boots. He’d trimmed his beard shorter than before and he flashed a brilliant white smile as he stepped around the manager to stand behind the seat facing them. His appearance seemed too polished for who and what he really was.

  “Brendan Pierce?”

  “It’s my real name.” He shrugged. “Jetaar is my nom de plume. I always hated my parents for giving me a name that sounded like an accountant or an engineer.” He laughed, and for some reason it sounded less terrifying when he was in a suit and silk neckpiece.

  Captain Walker nodded at the chair and he took a seat.

  Putting the bag on the table, he peeled down the burgundy velvet to reveal a bottle. The label said Morgan Reserve, and it had an image of a cartoonish pirate captain standing with a cutlass in his hand and his leg propped up on a storage drum.

  Ethan stared at the bottle and then up at Jetaar, chuckling at the irony.

  “To lubricate the wheels of commerce,” he said, pulling the top off the bottle and filling the empty glasses on the table.

  Ethan and Ammo had decided to skip the alcohol in case things got ugly, but the spiced rum was aromatic, and he sighed in the face of temptation. He glanced at her and nodded as they both picked up their glasses.

  “See, I knew we weren’t through doing business,” he said, tapping the base of his glass against each of theirs.

  “We’re not doing business,” Ammo said, running her finger around the rim and touching the alcohol with just the tip. She nodded, sucking the rum off her finger, and raising an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Regardless, good rum is better than the beer I imagined we’d share if circumstances were different,” Jetaar said, referring back to a conversation they had just before Makhbar nearly obliterated his ship.

  “If your intent was to do business, why didn’t you didn’t bring Darvelle?” Ethan challenged.

  “She’s here. But you know that.” His eyes narrowed, and he smiled. He turned his head and tapped his own earpiece.

  Ethan shrugged. “Why isn’t she joining us then?”

  “If we need her she can, but she’s really a licensed advisor I use for legitimate business. She doesn’t know much about my… other ventures. And it would be best to keep it that way.” He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “We all have our secrets.”

  “Probably so,” Ammo said. She looked over at Marti. The automech moved slightly and Jetaar caught it. Up until that moment he’d ignored the AA’s body, but he shifted his attention to it and smiled.

  “To analyze the truthiness of what I have to say?”

  “I need to know what you tell me about the colony is square,” he said. “Marti’s got the kit to tell.”

  “I’m surprised your doctor isn’t here. Isn’t she the one burning for an answer on what happened to Starlight?”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn’t give him an answer.

  “Don’t be surprised Walker,” Jetaar said, leaning back and sipping at his rum. “Since the incident with the archaeologists I’ve been interested in you. It’s not often someone gets the best of me. Normally, I’d have hunted you down and that would have ended it… and you… but when you went out of the way to make sure we made it home, I realized you were cut differently. That piqued my curiosity, so I just asked around a little.”

  “I’m just a freight jockey,” Ethan said.

  “You’re a paladin with a lucky star watching over you,” he said.

  “I’m not so sure about the star’s intent,” Ammo said.

  “Me either,” Ethan said. “But let’s cut to the point. What do you know about this colony?”

  He shook his head. “I need an agreement that you’ll haul my load.”

  “No commitments. What is this load anyway?”

  “Pharmaceuticals and diagnostic gear out of Zone One.”

  Ammo shook her head. “Not yet. Put something on the table that shows you aren’t yanking us.”

  “Tamilis Two.” He smiled as he dropped the name. “It’s a small colony in Draco along the Cygnus border.”

  Ethan’s earpiece chirped indicating that Marti was talking just to him. “Tamilis Two is formally designated Draco-425. STI holds a majority interest in the Tamilis Colony Charter. It is a small industrial and mining facility specializing in materials used extensively in scientific applications, advanced propulsion, and FleetCom ship construction. A detail you may find interesting is that the last reported patrol contact was four months ago by the FleetCom Multicruiser Argos.”

  Ethan’s interest went up. A lot. Clearing his throat, he turned to st
are at Ammo. She needed to understand that there was a reason for what he was about to say. When he was sure she got the message, he swung his eyes back to the pirate captain. “Alright. I will say, we’re not there yet but I’m leaning forward. You said it’s a legit run?”

  Over the comm he heard both Quinn and Angel gasp.

  “Medical supplies from Earth L1 to my base on Tortuga. I’ve got a freighter or two, but as you can imagine, our licenses might be... weak to get us into a major distribution center. It’s a legit purchase, and a legal cargo, but I need you to pick it up and make the delivery. With all due haste.”

  “There is no Tortuga listed in the stellar registry,” Marti said, this time over the open command comm.

  “There’s a reason for the rush?”

  “In my line of work, we do a lot of freelance exploration.” He shrugged. “Once in a while we have a crew that stumbles into a patch of something messy and they need meds to clear it up. It goes with the job description.”

  Ethan pushed himself back into his chair, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table for almost a minute while no one spoke. Finally, he nodded. “If we can verify anything in what you said, we’ll meet again.”

  Jetaar stood. “I picked up a room in the Larcossa Royale. I’ll be there for a couple nights. When you’re ready to talk, you know how to get a message to Sinthya.” Nodding deeply, he stepped toward the drape but stopped and turned back.

  “One more thing. You need to be careful Walker. Somebody’s on your ass.”

  “We know,” he said.

  “You’ve made some powerful enemies, and they don’t play as nice as I do.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Ammo asked, her eyebrow shooting up to alert.

  “Warning you makes us even for you saving my crew,” he said. “And you know the adage. ‘Enemy of my enemy…’”