by Max Jager
"I don't mean to interrupt," Mathison chimed in over the gym stereo, "but we just passed into the Moab Star System. We're here."
Jameson shared a curt nod with Madeira, the two of them quickly shuffling out of the gym and towards the bridge.
While the last week had been fun enough getting used to Madeira's new role aboard the Crimson, the seriousness of their objective was catching up fast. Jameson felt the same familiar urgency that washed over him the day Madeira had revealed that she and Mathison had tracked Arkus's whereabouts. Now that they were finally here, that same dogged purpose was back in force.
Madeira seemed to be right on board with it. There was no questioning; no jabbering. Only determined focus as they arrived on bridge, tapping into their individual terminals.
"He's still here," Madeira spoke up first. "We made it just in time. His private ship is set to launch this evening. He's tidying up a few loose ends around his estate."
"He's also got a lot of security," Mathison added. "Looks like a private firm in-system."
Jameson processed all of this as the Crimson decelerated in orbit of their target. It was a fairly agrarian world called Solomon. It was devoted almost exclusively to agricultural purposes or exceptionally wealthy estates. There were only a half dozen or so main population centers. The rest of the virgin world rolled out in expansive wilderness. It helped that the Moab Star System was another fringe world, flung out towards one of the edges of Gibraltar space that touched near the Expanse.
A nice, quiet place to disappear from Gibraltarian authorities.
"I've got something," Madeira chimed in. "Looks like his house…scratch that, his fortress mansion, is in the northwest hemisphere. Freakin' ball sack, that thing is huge. It's tucked away in a set of mountains and valleys called Aram."
Madeira transferred the geographical information to a smaller window on Jameson's terminal. He was impressed how quickly she had taken to the software and ship systems. She was a fast learner.
Another reason he was glad he brought her with him.
"Mathison," she continued, "can you get me into some of Solomon's satellites? For a closer look?"
Mathison chuckled. "Can I get you into some of Solomon's satellites?" he repeated with amusement. "C'mon, Madeira. Give me some credit. I'm one of the most advanced thinking machines ever built by humanity."
"You certainly weren't built for that attitude," Madeira retorted, shooting a grin at Jameson.
Jameson chuckled, keeping his attention focused on directing the Crimson to a particular docking ring. He had registered the space the day they broke orbit from Aquarius. It was an indiscriminate docking station, with access to an aerial shuttle for rent that he needed to make a fast approach on Arkus's location. It helped that his bounty hunter ties got him access to a private model equipped with weaponry and a stealth profile.
They needed to be quick.
"You might want to know that his alias his Paxton Decker," said Madeira. "It's the name he's using on all of his forms and probably what the Masons guarding him think he's called."
"Good to know." Nearly all of the traitors Jameson had hunted down over the last four years had guised their identity's with trivial aliases. But those fake names were critical when it came to finding out where they had signed paperwork for important things, such as hiding places, guards, and really big guns.
Arkus wasn't just using the Decker name to get a private estate or a ship rented; he would have all sorts of defenses and nasty surprises registered under that name.
"Mathison, get digging into the Paxton Decker alias," Jameson commanded aloud. "You know the usual drill; find out everything he's been signing off on with that name and keep an eye out for suspicious transactions."
"Already ten steps ahead of you."
A low reverberation rumbled through the Crimson's hull. They were docked.
Jameson pushed himself up from his command chair, pausing briefly by Madeira's terminal near the back of the bridge.
"Think you can man the show from here?"
She cocked her head, giving him a face that said "really?" "I've got this. I'll be plugged into you every step of the way. Go get that bastard."
Jameson nodded, moving quickly off the bridge and to the airlock. No one was waiting for him across the docking ring at the private aerial shuttle. After registering his identity with a simple biometrics scanner and signing in with his private password, the shuttle opened up and began power up sequence. Jameson found a comfortable place in the pilot's chair and then lowered his faceplate.
As his HUD booted up, it occurred to Jameson that this was the first time he had really used in the last week. Sure, he had spent some time tweaking it and getting familiar with the new OS layout. But before Aquarius, he wore his faceplate down all the time. It was easier that way, or so he had thought. Since Madeira had been aboard, he knew she preferred to make proper eye contact with him, so he had started getting used to not wearing it down as much.
And part of him was okay with that.
Now, though, sitting in the shuttle with it in place and the engines churning to life, he felt a quick rush of adrenaline. He was back on the hunt again, with Axus's number two in his sights. Jameson only hoped his three-week vacation hadn't put him off his game.
"Mathison has got the skiff on warm standby," Madeira said, her voice coming in through his helmet comms. "If you need backup, I can be down there in fifteen minutes."
"Unless the shuttle gets damaged, I should be fine."
The docking clamps released, and the shuttle bobbed down from the ring. This model had direct line-of-sight portals along the front of the cockpit. The only thing between Jameson and the vacuum of space was a series of advanced reinforced windows. It gave Jameson a stunning view as he rotated away from the starry field of space towards the blue gem that was Solomon.
Then he kicked on the shuttle's thrusters, rocketing forward with such force that it threw him back against his chair. From there it was a simple matter of following the map overlay transmitted from the Crimson, detailing the atmosphere entry point.
"I'll keep in touch if anything changes with Arkus," Madeira chimed in. "Otherwise…good hunting."
Jameson felt a smile crack across his face in the darkness of his cockpit, hidden away beneath his faceplate.
It had been awhile since he had a friend working with him on a team. Not since the old days in the Fleet.
Arkus
Chapter 19
Arkus
* * *
Gibraltar space
Moab Star System, Planet Solomon
Aram Mountain Range
* * *
The mountains rose and flowed along the planet in giant spines.
Jameson brought the shuttle ever lower as the Aram Mountains took shape along the northwestern continent. They were too short to be snow capped at this time of the hemisphere's rainy season. Instead, dark green forestry crawled up out of the valleys between ridges, clinging up high along the black and gray rocks like moss or lichen. Several hundred kilometers to the west, a thick rainstorm left the range hidden under cloud and mist.
Jameson checked his altimeter again, bringing the shuttle lower. Dipping between two ranges, a vast valley of rolling hills and rivers enlarged beneath him. What had seemed a simple bare patch between two lines of mountains was now sixty kilometers across and interspersed with private villas and farm land. Now the mountains rose above him, leaving only this wide valley in his line of sight.
The navigation monitor, synced to Jameson's HUD inside his faceplate, revealed that Arkus's private estate was three hundred kilometers due north along this valley channel. Now that Jameson had time to study it properly, he could see that it was tucked away in the rolling foothills along the eastern mountains on his right. The map registry listed it as belonging to Paxton Decker, the ridiculous alias Arkus had apparently chosen as his cover.
It had worked well enough for the last four years. But that retirement was coming
to an end.
What none of the satellite imagery showed was any sign of a landing pad near enough to the house or property. That worried Jameson, because it meant that he didn't know how Arkus planned to get off the planet. Either he had a hidden launch site or was traveling to a distant location. If it was the latter, he might already be gone. If it was the former…then they had some wonderful options.
As if on cue, Madeira suddenly cut in on the comms. "Mathison and I found something neat. There's a hangar in the mountains over the estate. It looks pretty secret, but there's some kind of weird energy spike."
"It's a ship reactor," Mathison added. "That's the only reason we spotted the place. Arkus is definitely going to launch from there."
Jameson grinned to himself under his faceplate. So it was the former after all; Arkus had built himself a secret little hangar to hide away a shuttle. Maybe several. And he hadn't made his escape yet.
"Great news," Jameson replied. "Any luck finding which ship he's sneaking out on?"
"We've got it," said Madeira. "It's a luxury liner registered under his fake Decker name. It's set to leave in about two hours. We need to make sure he never makes it aboard."
Yes, it was one thing keeping him from making his appointment with scheduled transportation, but that wouldn't stop Arkus. Jameson was surprised he hadn't hidden a surplus frigate or some other private starship somewhere in the Moab Star System for a quick escape. Maybe he did, and the registered transport was just a front for getting off Solomon. That meant they needed to keep him grounded at all costs.
Jameson checked his navigation again. Flying faster than typical cruising speeds, his shuttle had carried him within a hundred kilometers of the estate over the last few minutes. It was only a matter of time before his high speed arrival would tip off Arkus.
Might as well start the show now.
"Mathison," Jameson began, "get the Crimson's Gorgon missile system booted up now. I want one planted right in his hangar and two more on any ground defenses."
"Wondered how long you'd wait for that," Mathison cracked. "I eyeballed two ground based laser platforms, but that looks to be it. Those should give Arkus enough warning to get out of the hangar. It'd be a shame if we blasted him to little pieces before you even got there."
"Well don't you two have a morbid sense of humor," Madeira chimed in.
Mathison was right; which was why Jameson was using missiles. Any of their laser or energy pulse weapons would probably fry Arkus while he was loading up his shuttle. The missiles would register on his sensors long before they ever struck. By then Arkus would have hopefully taken cover, leaving him alive and well for Jameson to question.
"Missiles away," said Mathison. "As well as a quick little apology letter to Solomon Defense Command for loosing live ordinance planetside. I'm sure they'll understand, what with us being bounty hunters and all."
Maybe. Jameson had rarely had to fire on a world from orbit. He had done it before, especially when it helped corner a target before he got there, but never on a Gibraltar controlled planet. It was probably best if they made quick work of retrieving Arkus before any real authorities started getting worked up.
Jameson snapped to as he watched three contrails dart high overhead. He briefly watched as they arced downward sharply, colliding with their targets in bright blossoms of distant fire. He was now less than fifty kilometers away, but that was close enough to watch the explosion somewhere up along the mountain face, as well as two brief flashes near the ground.
"Bull's-eye!" Madeira cried triumphantly. "His hangar is toast! But you've stirred up all kinds of trouble, Jameson. There's some kind of guard setting up all across the estate grounds. They know you're coming."
"Not a problem," Jameson replied dismissively. "And technically you stirred up all kinds of trouble. Don't tell me Mathison didn't offer to let you push the button that fired those missiles."
There was a beat on Madeira's end. "Yeah…but that's beside the point."
Jameson chuckled to himself. Sure enough, as he decelerated over the final stretch towards the estate, his scanners picked up one— no, two dozen armed units covering the expansive lawns and grounds adorning the foothills around Arkus's large manor. They also apparently had anti-aircraft weaponry, which his shuttle's auto-defenses pinged. A few bursts of energy-pulsers dispatched them with ease.
Jameson did a single flyover, catching some quick imagery. They weren't military, thank goodness. They also weren't from any of the popular PMCs Jameson had heard of. So they were either a private guard Arkus had assembled for himself or a black market group for hire.
Perfect. Jameson had no trouble taking out those kinds of minions.
He wasn't sure what sort of surprises Arkus had anticipated while trying to make an escape, but he hadn't prepared nearly enough. Two more flyovers were all it took to fry half of the guard assembled out on the estate. The rest quickly retreated into the manor, leaving Jameson a chance to land. No other defense turrets or anti-aircraft weaponry came online. Arkus had apparently bet all his cards on a weak hand, leaving Jameson's quick space superiority tactics to cripple his defenses.
That was embarrassingly stupid planning for an ex-member of the Fleet.
The shuttle kicked on its vertical takeoff and landing gear, settling comfortably on a wide patch of pavement downhill from the manor. As the engines cooled down, Jameson kicked on the offensive weaponry briefly, laying waste to the exposed face of the manor. Full-auto pulse cannons blasted to pieces the stone and glass, shattering most of the front wall. That would push back any of the guards waiting to ambush from inside the house.
Plus, it felt good to use big guns to shoot up such a well-manicured mansion.
After locking up the shuttle, Jameson hopped out and powered up his pulse rifle. He was more accustomed to using his pistol on single target runs like this, but most single targets didn't have an army defending them.
It was a short run up to the main entrance of the manor. Most of the exterior wall was blasted open; shattered wood, metal, and tile lay smoldering and scattered across the grass and walkway. A few more bodies lined the interior, but no one had ventured close enough to start shooting at him yet.
Jameson hopped through an open wall into what had once been an exquisite sitting room. Half of one couch was vaporized, the other half singed and still smoking from the attack. He paused at the open double door, peering cautiously out into the large main hall that cut through the center of the manor.
"Madeira, Mathison; talk to me. I need a blueprint and a likely hiding spot."
"There's a stairwell to a basement just off the right of the main hall," said Madeira. "That goes down to a series of tunnels and bunkers that connect to his hangar we just blew up."
"I'm relaying an updated map to your HUD," said Mathison.
A digital overlay appeared in Jameson's field of vision, painting the world in front of him in glowing white and blue outlines. By looking around, he could see through walls and ground, down to where the stairs led to a basement and a series of rooms and tunnels laced through the foothills. They were surprisingly expansive for Arkus's purposes, but concise enough. There weren't too many places he could hide.
"See if you can't hack his home security," said Jameson. "If we can get eyes on him, it'll save me a lot of time."
Jameson quickly moved out into the hall, firing several controlled bursts. As a bounty hunter, his best tactic was to fire as much and as fast possible. Sow confusion, leave little room for his enemy to maneuver around him, and, destroy anything in his path. He wasn't Special Forces and he wasn't surgical. He was a walking hand grenade. It was little wonder some law enforcement in either Draconia or Gibraltar had such disdain for bounty hunters; they always left a trail of destruction.
He managed to dispatch a few more guards that had retreated back to cover positions near the basement stairs. If there were others spread out around the house, none of them made to move around to flank him. So Jameson pressed on fo
rward, pushing them back with quick, violent attacks. He lobbed a few grenades and did a good job of tearing up the house further. By the time he got to the basement stairs, he simply jumped through the fallen wall halfway down the exposed stairwell.
Once in the basement, things got trickier. The walls down here were reinforced and spaced out, utilitarian in design and without a drop of money spent on making them pretty like the cardboard walls he had shot up above ground. He couldn't do as much damage or fire through as many walls as he liked. And he had a lot more space to explore, hoping to keep Arkus from slipping past him. Arkus couldn't have gotten down from the hangar and out of the manor before now. So the two were definitely going to meet somewhere in between.