Dragon’s Rescue
A Space Opera Adventure Story
Richard Parry
Contents
The story so far…
Almost Free
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About the Author
Also by Richard Parry
Glossary
EXCERPT: TYCHE’S FLIGHT
An Easy Mark
DRAGON’S RESCUE copyright © 2019 Richard Parry.
Cover design copyright © 2019 Mondegreen.
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13 ebook: 978-0-473-46899-6
First edition.
No parts of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form without permission. Piracy, much as it sounds like a cool thing done at sea with a lot of, “Me hearties!” commentary, is a dick move. It gives nothing back to the people who made this book, so don’t do it. Support original works: purchase only authorized editions.
While we’re here, what you’re holding is a work of fiction created by a professional liar. It is not done in an edgy documentary style with recovered footage. Pretty much everything in here was made up by the author so you could enjoy a story about the world being saved through action scenes and clever dialog. No people were used as templates, serial numbers filed off for anonymity: let’s be honest, October Kohl couldn’t be based on anyone real. Any resemblance to humans you know (alive) or have known (dead) is coincidental.
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Published by Mondegreen, New Zealand.
For you who’ve loved your time with Nate and Grace.
The story so far…
Despite Max Conyers being gone, Grace knows Starfire Station’s no longer safe. The Empire will dispatch more capable people to track her down.
She plans to leave the station with Ryan McCabe, a not-quite-pirate captain she feels she can trust. The only problem is, her friend Cam owes money to dangerous folk. Debts are a strong incentive for betrayal.
Strong enough, perhaps, to call the Empire to Starfire Station.
Almost Free
Two weeks of happiness was like a sickness.
Grace wasn’t used to feeling this way. She kept looking over her shoulder expecting Empire soldiers with blasters, but instead finding happy traders. The merchants of Starfire didn’t hate Grace. They weren’t hunting her, although they might if they knew who she was. Grace watched the thousands of people in Starfire’s main concourse from a shady nook beside a tourist booth promising off-world experiences! It didn’t feel like a good thing to sell on a station full of merchants who traveled the stars. The booth was empty, which is why she hid here.
The booth opened every morning at eight and closed in the evening at six. A lone automated kiosk inside said WELCOME CUSTOMER 7! implying they’d had no more than six customers in the last week. Grace felt safer here.
Her head said it was time to go, but her heart wanted to stay. This feeling is a cancer. It makes you weak. Cam isn’t your friend. You don’t have any friends.
Grace shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. She listened, swaying with the susurration of a thousand people buying and selling, laughing, shouting, and generally doing what humans in bulk did. This is the sound of freedom. You’re safe.
But she wasn’t. Max Conyers was proof. Grace couldn’t get away from her father. She stopped Max, but another would take his place. The only reason she still berthed here was Ryan hadn’t left. The pirate promised her a ride.
Her comm chimed. Speaking of devils… It was Ryan. No message, because the savvy freighter captain knew that was stupid. Just an icon of his face glowing on her personal console. She pocketed the comm. It was time to say goodbye to Cam.
Cam’s berth was ‘out the back’ as Starfire reckoned such things. The people who worked on the station had cabins smaller, less flashy, and a lot cheaper than her hotel. Still, it was safe enough, good secure locks on the doors and enough curious neighbors to keep the vermin away.
Vermin like me. I’m an assassin and a spy.
Her boots clanked on the deck as she left the elevator on his level, charting a course for his room. She rapped twice on the door. It was their signal. Two raps for I’m-okay, three for open-the-door-with-a-blaster-in-your-hand. Cam opened the door after a couple seconds.
He looked terrible. Face blanched like a pear, eyes bloodshot, and his face hadn’t seen a razor’s touch in a few days. Probably since she’d last been here. Grace eyed him up, feeling the nervousness/fear coming off him stronger than his unwashed smell. The feeling rather than the smell churned her stomach. “Cam?”
“I’m fine.” Lie/lie. His feelings made her skin itch. “Really, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Grace pushed past into his apartment. Her sword felt ready where it lay against her back, but she didn’t draw it. Grace’s senses said no one lurked inside. She hunted like a hound through Cam’s room. It was habit more than anything. The empty kitchenette, rumpled bunk, and dirty bathroom stall hid nothing but Cam’s shame. “There’s no one here.”
Cam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I said I was fine.”
“You don’t smell fine.”
“Hey.” A hint of fire in the word, but not what she expected.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” Grace held herself still. You’re leaving Starfire. Don’t get involved. “I came to say goodbye.”
“What?” Cam blinked.
“I’m getting off the station. It’s not safe for me here.” Grace leaned against a wall, the closeness of Cam’s cabin leaving little room. “My father will send more people. Could be tomorrow. Might be a week away.”
“Could be a year.” Cam’s tone held hope, but his thoughts hid cunning/fear.
“Not likely.” Grace glanced around the room again. Something’s wrong. “Where’s your coin?”
“In the bank.” Cam looked at his feet, as much of a giveaway as the hide/run/guilt of his thoughts. They made Grace want to leave.
“They’re not. You’ve done something.” Grace separated from the wall like a ship undocking. “What did you do?”
“Paid off some debts, Grace. Hell, why do you think I needed so much good Empire coin in the first place?” Cam sagged onto his bunk. Self-doubt/hate.
Grace crouched before him. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Betrayal/fear. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I said, it’s fine. It’s really fine, Grace.”
She stood in a smooth movement. “You told someone about the data, didn’t you? You told them where you got the money, and now they’re extorting you.” It felt close to the truth, but Grace was missing something.
Cam shook his head. “Not quite.”
Her stomach clenched in fear. “You told them about Ryan.”
He nodded, the motion miserable. “They were going to kill me. I had to.”
“No, you didn’t. You could have called me.” Grace clenched her teeth. Where is Ryan? She thought of the thousand places on Starfire the pirate might be. Too many to check in a handful of minutes.
“Didn’t you just say you were leaving?” His glare radiated his anger/bitterness. She could almost taste his self-loathing. “Your problems aren’t our problems.” He slapped his chest. “I’ve got to look out for myself.”
Grace headed for the door, pausing half-way through. Her chest ached. She’d grown too close. “I’ll fix this.” And then I’ll leave.
“Sure.” As the door closed behind her, she thought she heard him say, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter One
>
First stop, the Pandora. Ryan McCabe’s ship nestled at the bottom of Starfire. Grace ran as fast as she could, breathless by the time she arrived. The ship stood waiting, the crew unsure of the captain’s location. She eyeballed the first mate, a man who looked like a gorilla, until he gave her Ryan’s location aboard Starfire. He bunked with Amita Crilly sometimes. Grace didn’t know Amita, but her gut said both she and Ryan were in danger.
The first mate’s directions took Grace two-thirds of the way up Starfire. Grace shifted from foot to foot in the turbo lift, the time spent in the glass box pressing on her like a giant’s foot. You’re too slow. You’ll be late. Ryan will be dead.
Grace looked over the massive space of Starfire’s interior hub. A month ago, she’d be concerned about missing her ride. Now, she was concerned for a sometime-pirate’s safety. She bowed her head. You’re slipping. Get too weak, and they’ll catch you for sure.
The door slid open and Grace popped free of the elevator car like a cork from a bottle. She sprinted the distance around the station’s core, dodging people and loaders alike. Darting down a corridor took her from the station’s bright and loud environs to a quiet, close set of passages.
Too quiet. Too close. Grace slowed, her blade’s hilt finding her hand like it was born for it. She padded around a corner. Ahead, the promised cabin stood with the door open at a crazy angle, a man standing in front. The door had been melted, then twisted by a massive force. The man in front of it was a monster, veins bulging on the visible skin of his arms and neck. He had muscles over muscles. He wore armor but flew no colors. A mercenary, but one like Max: modified. He’s had more human growth hormone than’s healthy.
A spot of red on the decking just outside the cabin’s door made Grace’s stomach drop. She darted from cover, sprinting for the thug. He turned as a deck plate creaked under her foot. His hand went for his blaster. Grace was faster. The confines of the corridor made the usual range of sword strokes difficult. She chose a rising strike, the arc of her steel parting his blaster in two as it cleared his holster.
He slammed a fist into her faster than she could blink. Grace bounced back, rattling along the metal floor. The giant roared, stamping forward. She kipped to her feet, jumped, and launched off the wall into a kick. The force of the roundhouse hit the giant in the side of the head.
All it did was make the monster grin.
Grace felt hunger/glee from him as his hands grabbed her jacket, hauling her into the air. With her jacket bound, Grace couldn’t use her sword. She planted feet against his chest, launching free with a scream. Her jacket ripped, the man left holding half in each hand.
Grace flowed to her feet. Her steel hungered, silver greeting red in three expert slashes. The man stumbled, one hand to his stomach, before he fell to the decking with a gurgle.
He’s not dead. How can he not be dead? Grace’s gift brought her the man’s anger/revenge. She bared her teeth, feeling it too, but stepped back to wait it out. Her katana had opened his gut, but also found arteries in his arm and neck. She didn’t have to wait long for his hate/hate to end.
Grace stepped over the body, heading for Amita’s cabin. The inside was a ruin. Blood lay on the floor, some of it on walls. The bed was broken in the middle, the door to the shower crumpled like tissue. A console sat on a table, mercifully undamaged. Grace drifted to it, fingers tracing through the holo’s light. The gleaming stage held no clues.
Ryan McCabe’s your ride off this tube of steel and ceramicrete. Grace needed to help Ryan, but not just because he was her ride. She’d help him because he’d stood at her side against the Empire. Grace owed Ryan, and she paid her debts.
Getting off Starfire would be hard, but the difficulty ramped up without Ryan. With him, she could’ve shored up on his Pandora as Grace Gushiken, but if he was dead she needed a new ID. Grace hoped he wasn’t, but she needed to be prepared.
First stop was a massive megaplex. She headed inside. The guard at the door gave her the side-eye. No doubt he wasn’t used to seeing fifteen-year-old girls with a length of ancient steel, but there weren’t any laws against it. Clumsy and foolish. The guard will remember you. You must be faceless.
Grace slowed her headlong rush. Whatever happened to Ryan and Amita was a matter consigned to history. Keep your wits about you. Think, then act. Grace shored up next to a massive pillar studded with map holos of the megaplex. There were twenty decks for the mall, different departments selling anything you needed. Her eyes widened at an outlet for Interstellar Dynamics. They sold some of the finest starships money could buy.
Finger drawing lines through glowing light, Grace found what she wanted. Women’s clothing was up three decks. She hopped on moving stairs, Endless grav fields keeping the metal plates smooth and steady under her feet. Grace paused at an area that sold ‘sporting goods,’ heavy plasma carbines on a rack against a wall. You suck with a rifle, but more weapons are better. She went to a kiosk, placing her palm against the ident panel.
The display bloomed to life, WELCOME AYAKO TANAKA flashing up in big white letters. She scrolled through the carbines, then her eye snared on the display’s top right corner. Her balance of good Empire coin was displayed there.
It was zero.
Grace leaned closer as if peering would make the number change. Her balance was not zero. She’d set up an account with Cam, putting her share of the sale into Starfire’s merchant banking system.
Cam has stolen my money.
The thought hit her harder than the thug outside Amita Crilly’s cabin had. Grace sagged against the kiosk. It wasn’t that her money was gone. She could get more money. It might take a while, and she didn’t have a lot of time, but there were ways. Grace figured she could get enough coin to get passage off this death-tube station.
The problem is you trusted Cam Redwood and he’s shown how wrong you were. You stopped listening to his feelings and he cheated you.
Was her other trust foolish? Would Ryan McCabe set her up? Grace wasn’t sure if finding him was a good idea. Steal a few coins, slip aboard a freighter, and ghost away. That was the smart play.
Ryan McCabe shot a monster for me. Grace gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream. Her sword rattled in her hand as she squeezed it with bloodless fingers. You will find Ryan. And that’s the last time you make ‘friends.’
She spun away from the kiosk, hurrying up to the clothing section. Grace didn’t want clothes. She needed a particular type of shopper, and this was the best place to find them.
Grace stepped from the moving stairs like she had business here. The metal plates slid into the floor, recycling themselves into the system. They’d greet other weary feet below. She scanned the throngs of people here. There. A clump of young women walked the racks, holding items out, eying them for color, fit, size, or just because. In another life you could have been one of them.
But in this life, I am Grace Gushiken.
The clump attracted her because one was young enough to be Grace’s age. She walked toward them, sliding between two racks of clothes. Grace waited until her target stood before a holo, the machine playing back a simulation of what she’d look like with new clothes, a different haircut, and a tattoo.
The tattoo was a dragon, snarling down the girl’s arm. Grace paused, eying the ink on the holo. It looked silly on Grace’s target, because the girl’s arms were like straws.
Wearing ink was a bad idea. It would be a permanent marker of who she was.
Grace shook her head. Focus. When the girl was distracted by a new set of fashions, Grace slipped forward, helping herself to her target’s satchel. It was a sturdy affair, used by spacer crews. A few quick tugs and Grace had the girl’s ident cards. She put the satchel back, contents as she found them, taking nothing else. Her victim would think she’d left the ident cards in her room, or aboard her ship, and by the time the loss was realized, Grace would be in the hard black.
Away from Ryan, Cam, and everyone else.
Grace gave a last look a
t the girl’s dragon tattoo in the holo, then drifted away, just another shopper in the horde of humanity. She looked at the ident cards. I guess I’m Ume Kimura now.
Chapter Two
Grace couldn’t find a trace of Ryan or Amita. When she went back to the Pandora’s dock, the starship was gone. She thought for a second Ryan might have been on the wind, but she noted the deep black of blaster scorching around the airlock. No bodies, no dropped weapons, and no other evidence. It was like the Pandora was something Grace imagined, a false memory trying to trip her up.
No. The ship was here. Metal bulkheads don’t melt themselves. Grace traced the plasma mottling on the metal skin of Starfire. Ships don’t disappear by themselves either. Something bad is happening.
She headed back to the main ship hub in the station’s center section. The Immortal left after Captain Topham’s demise, but there were plenty other starships docked here.
Grace spent twenty minutes stealing spare coin for the journey. She palmed a credit chip from a man who wore so many gold chains Grace suspected he wouldn’t notice. She siphoned the money onto a burner card for tourists aboard the station, then walked that to another kiosk and looked for an outbound ship. The names of the docked hulls scrolled past. No sense hiring on. The same cover was a poor choice twice in a row. Ume Kimura would be a tourist, signing on the Steel Aurora. Coins entered the system; Grace’s passage was secured.
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