I took Marty’s arm and we slogged on avoiding gunfire and random debris riding the air hissing out of the station. Shells skidded around us, smashed into the nearby hull. Deidra ducked, returned fire, a wild gleam in her eye and laugh on her tongue. I could see the dream of survival swirling in her head, fighting against all odds against Sharki. She was a vixen gone rogue caught in a frenzy of blood lust. “Die, you shitbox station! No more a prison for me,” she shrieked, laying fire every which way, taking out foes. I gave a grim laugh. Kamikaze Deidra. We reached the cargo door and were inside. I closed the hatch and breathed relief, hustled Marty along the darkened hall toward the bridge while Deidra raced ahead to get the ship started and moving as thumps and bangs echoed across the hull. Just a parked ship, nobody aboard. I reached the weapon nav and blasted the station’s portal open. We surged though as bits of hot metal and loose fibrofoil fell away from our sides.
Marty slumped in a nav chair, his face pale and breath hoarse. First time I’d seem him so vulnerable.
A great ball of fire lit behind us. Thetis 3 exploded in an angry burning ball. I saw amongst the fragments and supercharged debris, several bright specks that might have been starships making their escape from the doomed station. But these were few and most of them ended up in cinders, engulfed in bright flames before they could get too far. Thetis 3 was no more. Just another blip in history. I felt no remorse.
The concussion knocked us sideways, zapping our impulse drive and our nav haywire. But we were far enough away from the disintegrating station that it didn’t compromise our warp drive for long. For once, the gods seemed to be on our side.
But I am ever skeptical of that assumption.
We surged across the black gulfs and the Varwol’s green light blinked on and I jammed the hyperdrive to full, sending us across the threshold of singularity.
We sat in silence, disbelieving the stillness and safety of the light drive, staring at the impossible trails of time-light streaming from our sides.
Marty’s voice came as a hoarse rasp. He was hurting, his supply of Myscol run out. I scoured the bridge, looking for some regen. It’d be a while before we could get some for him if there was none aboard. I found some in a half-stocked storage bin. I peeled off his spacesuit, slathered the smelly orange paste on his lower leg. He gave a sigh of relief. The miracle goo was already starting to work its magic.
Whether Sharki perished down there or had escaped on one of the evac ships we’d never know. The prospect left an uneasy knot lingering in the pit of my gut. I sensed Deidra felt this unease too, though I could see in her twisted expression her burying it deep along with her hurt from the past.
Deidra spoke in a cracked voice, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve got a mechanic friend out on Voolies world in Aldebaran who can fix us up good with an Alpha Explorer. Might even trade in this junk for a better vessel.”
“Good. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. We need a break right now. Marty, what do you say?”
He just waved and groaned, the sounds of longing for a hit of Myscol.
“My brain’s still wondering how we’re gonna stay afloat. Only a week of vacuum-packed food on this rig and we’re down to our last yols.”
“Rusco, you’re a killjoy. We’ve got each other.”
I looked at her and gave her a hard stare.
Her mouth got all puffy and glistening like a flower in dew. “Where you got to go so fast?” She hooked an arm around my shoulder. I looked back at her, my face deadpan. An idea warmed in my head. I suppose I could make an exception along the lines of a bit of R&R.
Marty just rolled his eyes. “Come on, really?”
“Relax, Mar. Sure as rain there’s some desperate gal down on one of these scum worlds who’ll fancy even a dog like you.”
STARHUSTLER
BOOK II
Chapter 1
I got the transcall from Marty two days ago on Starrunner. Meet me at Drenny’s Bodega. Bring explosives.
I was tempted to blow it off, but something in my gut told me to follow through. Business was slow out in Veglos and the cons I had pulled up and down that wretched sector, had either blown up in my face or been substandard. Like that smuggling op to get land mines down to the rebels on Rlenion. Three shipments, discovered at the last minute, up in flames.
Looking at the decadence and slummery of Hoath here on Brisis 9, capital of the supplier planet of all goods, I wasn’t quite so sure now. A giant shanty town of neon and old glitter, a place I’d vowed never to return to, with its seedy dives, black markets, toothless hawkers and painted brides.
What was the point of it, I asked. Without one taking a chance, opportunity always made its way to the next bidder.
Maybe that’s why I was in the traders’ depot. Following up on the lead just come in from Marty. That or a slump. Call it what you want, a malaise of spirit, some last desperation after the last string of bad luck.
This waiting line was taking too long. Really? That many shmucks in line for firearms?
