Gun Runner Read online

  “Um…” I said. “Are those body bags?”

  “It would seem so,” Sosa nodded.

  Jort and I exchanged unhappy glances.

  “The old crew is all dead?” Jort asked. “What happened? Is the pile leaking?”

  “It’s safe now,” Sosa told us. “But it can overload if you really push these engines. They’re too powerful for this tiny ship, as I understand it. Flying wide-open, you can outrun almost anything—but it’s risky.”

  “You’re on this ship with us, Sosa,” I told her. “Don’t take too much pleasure in the high odds of our death.”

  “Death would be a relief,” she said, then she winced again. Perhaps her parasite didn’t like her tone and had decided to discipline her.

  I was impressed with Sosa’s ability to withstand her tormentor. Often, people infested by such creatures were servile and terrified of upsetting their masters. Sometimes they went mad with pain and anguish, committing suicide. Sosa seemed stoic and tough, an unusual response.

  Deciding it would be rude to ask her why she was so indentured to Kersen, I left the question for a later date. After all, we would probably be in space together for a long time.

  “Communicate with Kersen on my behalf,” I told her. “Tell him I can’t possibly operate this ship properly with a crew of five.”

  She shook her head. “I will do so, but you’re wasting your time.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You came along at a lucky moment. Kersen has no other trusted henchmen available. There is one other ship, but it’s far out along the rim. It won’t be back for months.”

  “Then he can hire for me—or rent—some more deckhands.”

  Shrugging, Sosa contacted Kersen. After a few moments, she tossed the call to me with a gesture.

  “He wants to talk to you.”

  I accepted the comm channel and opened it. Kersen was immediately projected on my inner eyelids. It wasn’t a pleasant view, so I opened my eyes, removing the image.

  “Master Kersen,” I began. “This vessel needs a crew of at least thirty experienced hands.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Please listen to me—”

  “No! You listen, runner. You are nothing. You have signed with me. I am everything, and I am done supplying you for the job. There is no more crew to give you.”

  “A bridge, two guns, tricky engines and a torpedo room…”

  “Hire your own crew. You have adequate funds—I checked.”

  My face twisted into a sour grimace. So this was the deal. Not only was I a mere rental pilot who had agreed to make this run just to pay back debts, Kersen evidently planned to lean on me further, squeezing my personal accounts.

  “Your position is unreasonable,” I told him.

  “Look Gorman, you came to me. You asked for a deal. We have made a deal. You can walk away from it if you want. I’ll find someone else.”

  I wasn’t so sure he could do that, but I didn’t want him to try. Already, I was certain he was trying to find out where my secret weapons cache might be. If he managed to do that, well, I would have nothing left to bargain with. Nothing at all.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll work it out.”

  “That’s the Gorman I know! Luck, Captain.”

  The call ended.

  Jort loomed near. “Where we getting more men? Or do we have to take on more dumb bots?”

  “Neither,” I said. “We’ll fly with what we have. I’ll pilot the ship. Sosa will run the ops consoles. Jort, you can man the aft cannon. If we get into trouble directly ahead, move to the forward gun.”

  “What?” Jort cried. “What about the torpedoes?”

  I shook my head. “If we need to fire them, you will move from the cannons to the torpedo room.”

  Jort shook his head in disbelief. He walked off, muttering.

  “Sosa,” I said, turning to her. “You’ll serve on the bridge with me. You’ll handle every operator’s station other than navigation and the helm.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she regarded me for a moment. I could tell she was puzzling over my motivations.

  “You’re broke, aren’t you?” she asked at last.

  “Never. I’m simply a frugal man. Now listen, we’re casting off in five minutes. Move to your station on the bridge and strap in.”

  In truth, I was worried about my funds. I had less than half of what Jort had given me weeks ago remaining in my accounts. Running a ship often resulted in unexpected expenses, and what little I had left would have to be doled out carefully for emergencies.

  Sosa walked away, and I followed her. She was somewhat thin, but that was probably a result of internal scarring. She was a fit woman, and she would have been attractive if she didn’t have such a sour attitude.

  Naturally, I forgave her for her unfriendly behavior. After all, she had to live with an organic curse in her abdomen that I wouldn’t wish on an enemy. Perhaps, someday, we’d find a way to free her of Kersen’s leash.

  Master Kersen wouldn’t like that, but I didn’t care. He was at the top my shit-list today.

  Chapter Ten

  A few hours later, we cast off and slid away from the dark side of the space station. At least Kersen had seen fit to provide me with a full tank of fuel. There was plenty of food aboard as well, since the previous crew had died before they’d had a chance to eat more than a third of it.

  “What do you want to call the ship, Captain?” Sosa asked me.

  “What I always call my ships,” I said. “Royal Fortune.”

  Sosa worked a panel, and the nano-reactive paint on the side of the vessel transformed into the new name. The ship was now Royal Fortune. At the same time, the ship’s transponder ID changed. It was a common smuggler’s technique to change a ship’s name and registry with regularity.

  “Why that name?” she asked me.

  I grinned. “There was once a famous captain named Bartholomew Roberts. He captured a lot of ships, and he always renamed them Royal Fortune.”

  She frowned. “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “It was a long, long time ago.”

  We had a choice from several possible routes that led to the Sardez star system. The most obvious would be to go to the local slip-gate and fly through it. That was what most pilots would do, like entering into a highway system with a ground vehicle. Conclave stars were all connected to the slip-gate chain, and it was undoubtedly the easiest and fastest way to move across space.

  Unfortunately, my final destination was outside the Conclave itself. Worse, I was a wanted man, and the patrol androids searching for me were sure to be watching that exit. They were probably searching every ship that flew through the gates at this point.

  Another option would be to take a direct flight, simply aiming the nose of my craft toward Sardez and applying thrust. That method would be safe enough, except it would probably be noticed by Kersen, who was doubtlessly watching and tracking my every move. The moment I chose that path, he might alert others who could attempt to find and steal my cache for themselves. Worse, Sardez was quite far from here. The flight there would take months.

  No. This had to be done with subtlety. I decided to nose my craft around, setting the target as Barnard’s star, a close but unremarkable body. From there, I could use a slip-gate to get as close as possible to Sardez then make the final leg of the journey.

  Once my course was locked on, I goosed the engines—and nearly had a heart attack.

  Royal Fortune lunged forward like a beast that had been unchained. The power was amazing. Alarmed by the surge, I let off the power just as suddenly, then took my hands off the controls completely.

  At my side, Sosa had been taken by surprise as well. She tumbled forward when I hit the brakes, thumping her head on the panel in front of her despite her harness. She should have been wearing her helmet, but neither of us had been expecting this kind of thrust followed by sudden braking. She was out cold.

  I wanted to help her, but I had
to let the engine surge again now. You couldn’t apply sudden changes over and over again without damaging the core.

  Heavy G-forces were being applied to my body, and I knew I couldn’t dare checking on her without risking unconsciousness myself. Accordingly, I eased back on the thrust until it was at a manageable level. I grabbed the medical kit left behind by the previous crew. I found a medical sensing device, then I moved to her side.

  Gently tipping her head back in her chair, I examined her neck with a medical wand. There weren’t any broken vertebrae that I could find.

  She came awake with a gasp. “I thought you were a pilot…”

  I kept a firm hand on her shoulder, pressing her into her seat. “Hold on, don’t wriggle. I’m scanning your skeleton for fractures.”

  Sosa breathed in painful hitches. “There are no breaks, but my rider is angry.”

  “Your rider?”

  “Yes. He’s… he thought he might perish. My passing out frightened him. He’s in a vicious mood now.”

  I gently ran the wand over her ribs and legs. “There’s some internal bleeding, but no seriously ruptured organs or fractures. You’ll both live. Your rider should call himself lucky.”

  She snorted and breathed in a labored fashion. “If anything goes wrong, he takes it out on me.”

  “Can you communicate with him?”

  She frowned. “Only if he wishes it.” Suddenly, she sucked in another breath then let it out in short hisses. “He doesn’t want me to talk to you about him.”

  “I understand. Can you man your station?”

  She forced herself to stand up with obvious pain. “I’m fine. What are your orders, Captain?”

  “Check all systems. This ship’s engines have been altered, and she’s unpredictable. Worse, we don’t know anything about what the previous crew might have done to her systems. Make sure there’s no serious damage.”

  “I’ll run a full diagnostic.”

  “Hmm…” I said, going over the manifests and reports. “That burst of power is over these ratings. These specs… they’re all wrong.”

  “Yes. As I said, the ship has been doctored to provide maximum running speed.”

  “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

  Jort called then, complaining that he’d awakened to find the two model-Ds carrying him to the engine room.

  I laughed. “Better be careful. They must still be running their body clean-up script. You’re lucky they didn’t toss you into the furnace. Disable their scripts before they finish you off.”

  Jort disconnected with a growl and went to abuse the androids.

  “This ship is going to kill us,” Sosa complained.

  “Don’t worry, I’m the best pilot you’ve ever met.”

  Sosa glanced at the ceiling, but she seemed reassured.

  Once we were up to a good cruising speed, I checked the numbers. Again, I was impressed.

  “This ship is hauling ass,” I told Jort.

  “Who is this ass? You are the ass, not me!” Jort responded, jabbing his chest with his thumb.

  “No, no… it’s a figure of speech. Settle down. I’m saying that this ship is moving very quickly. Flying fast. Get it?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. I get it. I am no kind of fool.”

  “Right… anyway, we’re going to reach Barnard’s star in a week, maybe less.”

  Jort’s eyes boggled. “Truly? This Royal Fortune of yours is indeed fast. I wonder how she’ll do with a full hold.”

  “We’ll find out.”

  As I walked through the ship, I found myself running my hands over the curved metal hull. The vessel was sleek and mean. I liked her. She was better than any ship I’d flown in recent memory.

  Finding the captain’s cabin, I discovered it spare but adequate. There was a comfortable bunk, a few bottles of booze and a private porthole to the universe. Digging in the small desk, I found no personal effects. That troubled me, as I’d seen the model-Ds hard at work burning the corpses of the old crew. Who could have taken the time to clean out the cabins?

  It must have been part of the androids. These model-Ds were like ghouls, the simplest of robots. They were only vaguely humanoid. They didn’t even have fingers, really, just grippers that resembled plastic-coated pliers at the ends of their arms.

  After a few days, I got to know the ship. She was in good condition. I could find no sources of radiation. There were no cracks in the cooling jacket or the reactor core. On the third day, I asked Sosa about it.

  She shrugged and hunched over a meal of sausage and toasted roots. “I don’t know what’s going on. Ask Kersen when we get back.”

  That was all I could get out of her. She didn’t seem friendly, or angry. Just kind of beat-down by life. I could understand that, especially since she had that creature in her guts. It made my lip curl when I thought of it.

  “Hey,” I told her on the morning of the fifth day. “If we get through this, I’ll take another mission from Kersen. One that pays.”

  She gave me a strange look but said nothing.

  “I’ll ask for you to come along again, if you want to.”

  Sosa pursed her lips and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It only matters what Kersen wants. I’m his property.”

  “How’d that happen?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  I shrugged. “All right, but I say screw Kersen. What do you say? Should I ask for you to come along on our next?”

  She snorted at me and looked down at her breakfast. “Why would you want me?”

  “Take a look around! I’m kind of short on trained crew, here. The opportunities for advancement are infinite.”

  “I don’t know... We’ll see.”

  Satisfied, I smiled and leaned back in my seat. She’d come along. I knew people. She wanted to be part of my crew.

  Chapter Eleven

  We arrived at Barnard’s Star the next day. It was a lonely place, more of an outpost than a true colony. One inhabitable world circled a dim red sun. The only inhabitants on the planet’s surface huddled around the bottom of the umbilical that ran up to the sole space station. Their job seemed to be bringing foodstuffs and supplies to the traders who gave them pitiful payments for their work.

  They dared not rebel, however, as the men on the station had the high ground and all the serious weapons. The locals carried swords and spears, which had never proven good enough to beat the traders, or the cannons that encrusted the belly of the station.

  We docked, paid a criminally high toll and walked the station like visiting princes. They didn’t get much traffic here, and I traded what little I had for more food and fuel. Our hold was almost empty, but every runner carried a few luxury goods to sell to local colonists at planets like these.

  After a few bad-tasting beers, I was in a better mood. Jort was laughing at nothing, and even Sosa seemed relaxed. Her careworn face was smiling in a tired way. For the first time, I saw that beneath her gruff exterior, there was actually a pretty, young girl.

  I was brought back to my stark reality when I noticed Jort was picking fights with some of the local dockmen. I dragged him outside. Sosa followed quietly in our wake.

  Just outside the door, three men stood with arms crossed.

  My immediate move was to push through them. They were human enough, tall boys with the arms of working men and the burnt skins of laborers who had toiled under a red sun like Barnard’s.

  The men moved to block us. That was a mistake.

  Jort had been grinning at them, but as I’d learned previously, he had an insanely short fuse. He could go from a smile to a snarl in less than a second.

  The two dockmen on the right were blasted away from us, literally taken off their feet by Jort. That’s when I recalled that this planet had only about seventy percent the gravity of Earth. Jort had grown up under punishing extremes of gravity. He was like a superman among these taller youths.

  This struck Jort as funny all over again.
He laughed and pointed at the men he’d flung to the deck.

  Surprised, they all stepped back, and we moved on—I dared to hope whatever motives had brought them to here had faded.

  But then, I heard the sizzle of an energy weapon warming up.

  Jort, Sosa and I turned back around to face them.

  “What’s the trouble, boys?” I asked the scowling men. “You short on cash for a beer? Come on inside, I’ll buy a round.”

  “We’d never drink with you, runner,” said one, a sandy-haired man with leathery cheeks and burning eyes.

  Jort moved to lunge at them, but I put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped reluctantly.

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Because you’re flying Captain Jensen’s ship. He’s a friend of ours.”

  That threw me. I blinked and stared. “Captain Jensen? Robert Jensen?”

  “The same. How did you get his ship? Did you steal it? Where is Jensen?”

  “Uh…”

  Here, I turned toward Sosa. She was looking down at the deck. She looked, in fact, mildly ashamed.

  “Kersen gave it to me,” I said. “Jensen had an accident of some kind. I’m his new runner.”

  “Kersen hired you three?” the leader said, stepping forward. His face was stamped with disbelief. “You’re nothing but trash. Scum from the sand-pits—”

  That was enough for Jort. He’d been standing at my side, puffing and grunting and gurgling like a dog that’s strangling itself on a short leash. I think it was the word scum that had set him off—go figure.

  He got low, almost down on all fours, and charged into the three taller men. One of the youths landed an electric lash on Jort’s shoulder, but it seemed to have no effect. Smashing the men to the deck, he knocked them all down within two seconds.

  Straightening his back with a howl, Jort put a hand back to his shoulder and ripped at it. The lash had stung him, drawing a red weal that had split his tunic and begun to bleed. No doubt, this weapon had been designed to cripple a man with pain.

  It seemed to have the opposite effect on Jort. He stomped and kicked at the men until none of them could stand. When he was finished, I picked up the lash.