Bad Bargain: A Space Rules Adventure Part 1 Read online

  “Hang on!” Thrusters boomed. Systems pounded into life. They lurched forward, squeezing through the narrow orbiter frame. But parked ships approached.

  “Down down!” Tawny screamed.

  Ben redirected on the fly. They dropped straight toward big, yellow Orbin. He corrected and looped away, back toward open space, everything shifting around them.

  “There’s a hail,” Tawny called.

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  The Orbiter 1 commander holoformed into view looking critical. “This is Orbiter One. You do not have clearance to…”

  “Shut it off.”

  Tanwy did so. The head holodissolved.

  An emergency klaxon wailed.

  “They’re targeting us,” REX screamed.

  “They won’t shoot. They wouldn’t dare.”

  Laser bolts from Orbiter 1 crisscrossed overhead making Tawny and Ben gasp. “Yep—I’m wrong, I’m wrong,” Ben admitted through gritted teeth. “We need inner-warp, REX.”

  “In a minute.”

  “Look!” Tawny screamed pointing directly forward.

  Two ships. Destroyer cruisers. Big ones. Four thousand feet long. Probably more. Headed their way.

  “C’mon, REX!”

  “You said cold burn. No time to prime. This is a cold burn. No time to prime.”

  “Then give me whatever top speed you can.”

  “Okay. Okay. You got it.”

  Ben punched it forward gaining speed. The cruisers grew and grew. A collision course.

  “They’re going to trap us in,” Tawny cried.

  “Oh, no they’re not,” Ben said flipping a series of overhead toggles.

  Outside the ship, the long mag-spires began shifting apart from one another, each one on its respective turnstile, until they flattened out becoming long, narrow wings, two hundred feet to the port, two hundred feet to the starboard.

  “Hold on!”

  “What’re you doing?” Tawny asked.

  “Spinning the monkey, sweetheart.”

  Ben initiated a boosted spin maneuver. The vista of space began swirling all around them, turning REX into four hundred feet of rapidly spinning iron, like a demented spiral blade approaching fast, ready to mulch anything in its way.

  The cruisers reacted, each initiating evasive maneuvers and angling away from each other. REX shot between them, very fast, whirling at a blinding speed, enough power to pulverize asteroid mass.

  “We’re clear! Stabilizing,” Ben called. The ship leveled back out, balanced itself.

  “Inner-warp ready, Cap.”

  “We’re outta here!”

  The inner-warp engines grew into a blue hot glow and they were a dot in the distance—BOOM—gone.

  Everyone let out a universal sigh, even REX. Ben melted back into his seat, shook his head, relieved. That could have been a lot worse. They had surprise on their side. It was the only reason they weren’t stopped, captured, or destroyed. He had to act fast. It worked. They were free and clear.

  But now he had a wife to contend with. He might have been better off staying with the Orbinii. “Look,” he said, “I know you’re angry. I’m truly sorry. I didn’t have time to discuss the—”

  He never finished his sentence, never even got to complete his thought.

  She tackled him right there in the cockpit, right there in his captain’s chair, started sucking on his neck, chewing on his lips, ripping clothes off. There was nothing he could do. She was too fast, too powerful … too hungry.

  REX muttered, “Oh boy…” and shielded his eyes experiencing a computerized version of awkwardness.

  Chapter Five

  “Do you want the good news, the bad news, or the interesting news?” REX asked.

  Ben moved through the main hold putting a shirt on. After Tawny basically ripped all the buttons off his best shirt, he traded it for his favorite—a flowing, Golothan red, long sleeve pullover with a loose v-neck and rolled-up cuffs, tucked in at the waistline. Ahh, he was home again. “Give it to me in that order.”

  “Well, the Orbin home front is long gone, and there aren’t any signs we’re being tracked or followed.”

  “Looks like our getaway was clean.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long until we reach Omicron Prime?” Ben asked.

  “Eighteen hours, approximately.”

  He checked his watch, said, “We’re making good time. So, what’s the bad news?”

  “Our cargo haulers are gone.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yeah, Cap. Every last one.” REX said this with a hint of obviousness, as if to prod him.

  Ben figured they hadn’t had any other choice. It was a minor inconvenience compared to sitting it out in an Orbin jail cell. He just shrugged. “We can always get more haulers from Norg. So, what’s the interesting?”

  “Get this. We received a number of downloads before we left. This is some interesting stuff, technical readouts on what looks like a Cabal military project. This has got to be classified information, Cap.”

  Ben froze, his pacing coming to a dead stop. He looked up as if to reference the life form of his ship, whatever that might be, and said, “Menuit-B?”

  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “Heh—that is interesting.” He punched an inner-ship comm link, said, “Tawny, you out of the shower?”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “We need to talk about something.”

  “Let me dress. Be right down.”

  They sat at the holotable observing the hovering diagram of the data download from General Ona’Oona’s lab. Long windows displayed scrolling data in streams. The central image was a rotating, three-dimensional schematic. The moon was accounted for in shimmering lines. The cannon had a thousand subterranean parts, not to mention ventilation towers and defensive batteries all over the place. A central blast generator showed as well. The thing was going to be miles big.

  Ben whistled, said with whispered awe, “Look at all this data. This thing’s massive. They’re going to kill a lot of people with this thing.”

  Tawny gave him a sad look. He was talking about the Stathosians. Maybe even the Orbinii. They were Imperium. They were Ben’s people. She said, “Benji?”

  He snapped angrily, “It’s none of our business. We’re not soldiers anymore. We’re through fighting.”

  Tawny sank down, just said, “Okay.”

  Ben calmed. He spun the diagram three hundred sixty degrees, eyeballing it. “If there’s one thing I can say about the Cabal, they’re an organized bunch.”

  She eyed him, not sure how to breach the next subject. She said, “This data could be worth a lot of yield.”

  He thought for a second, said, “Only if we sold it. Technical information on Menuit-B? No one’s going to want to touch this information. They’d be crazy to come within a warp minute of it.” He squinted, tilted his head. “Unless we sold it to the Contingent. They’d purchase it.”

  Tawny said, “They already have it.”

  “No. Orbin has it. They’re only one small part of the Contingent. There are other parties. They’re not all friendly with each other either, trust me. Take Cedillas. They don’t necessarily get along with Orbin. They’d jump at buying this information.”

  “And what if they used it to blow up a bunch of Cabal freight haulers on their way to Menuit-B, or destroyed their resource facilities? Those are my people, Benji.”

  He inhaled, nodded. “You’re right. Rule three. Espionage. I’m getting ahead of myself. Okay, no selling to the Contingent. They’d only use it to their military advantage.”

  “But we could sell it to the Cabal. They’d want to know it’s secure.”

  Ben snorted laughter. “Oh yeah, we show up on the Omicron Prime war consulate front stoop and go, Hey fellas, look what we got. It’s nothing, just top-secret data on your little moon baby. You know that big planet killer you’re building over there on Menuit-B? Yeah, we got all the data we need to blow that sucker u
p.” He gave her a discerning look and said, “Not smart.”

  She rebutted, “Orbin, then.”

  He gave her a sudden, interested look. “What?”

  “We sell it back to Orbin. They know we have it. They don’t want us to have it. So, we sell it back. It’s got to be worth something.”

  He pondered it for a few seconds and settled on, “Mmm, they’d consider that blackmail. The Orbinii hate our guts as of about an hour ago, remember? They’re probably launching bounties on our heads through every channel from here to the Xylon system as we speak.”

  “Then what does it matter? Let’s at least make the offer.”

  “It wouldn’t stop the bounty. We’d still be criminals of the state. They’d still hunt us.” He stood up, walked over to the viewport, stared out into space, then turned around suddenly, a finger in the air. “But I have a better idea. A good faith exchange. We send it back to them. Say we’re sorry. This belongs to you. Not interested. Yadda yadda yadda. And by the way, how’s Heiress Orona? Hope she’s well. Have a nice life. Leave us alone. That kind of thing.”

  “You think that would stop the bounty?”

  He groaned and flapped his hands on his thighs. “I don’t know. Probably not. There’s no way to tell.”

  “So would we rather look over our shoulder the rest of our lives because we don’t know if we should be looking over our shoulder—or—would we rather look over our shoulder for the rest of our lives because we do know we should be looking over our shoulder?”

  Ben sat heavily back down. “Either way, we’ll still be looking over our shoulder.”

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “Then we do what we’ve always done. Nothing. We disappear. It’s the surest thing.”

  She grinned, said, “Then we should probably stay away from Omicron Prime.”

  “You mean that big, blue planet that we’re currently speeding toward?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “The one with the rings?”

  “Uh-huh, yeah.”

  “Right. Good idea. REX, full stop. Course correction, buddy.”

  Chapter Six

  Outer Commerce Routes

  The Planet Speculus

  Non-partisan space region

  REX zipped out of inner-warp and into standard drive like a blink from nowhere. And there they were.

  The planet Speculus sat below perfectly black, like a slice of space hidden from view, save the starless, round field that it produced. It was an airless planet without atmosphere or moon—just a sphere of obsidian four thousand miles in diameter. Those in the region called it the mirror planet for its invisible qualities. They espoused that if you stared at it from superorbit, you would see only yourself in its void. The place would speak to you. And then it would know you. It would whisper tellings of your own death. Most thought it ridiculous. The more superstitious regarded it wearily.

  Other than that, the planet had no indigenous life. But it was surrounded by the coming and going of thousands of craft, all of them crisscrossing its featureless face in lines of commerce giving this region of space a shimmering frenzy of motion.

  “We’ve arrived,” REX said dolefully. “The Guild.”

  “Relax, partner,” Ben said spying the nav screens, looking for an opening in the traffic at superorbit. It was sporadic at best. There. He spotted one.

  REX continued, “Why is it every time we come to this place we arrive peacefully, yet every time we leave it’s at top speed?”

  “We got friends here, REX.”

  “Oh, yeah—friends. Is that what you call them?”

  “Hey, at least there’s no Cabal.”

  “Or Imperium, for that matter,” Tawny said stepping into the cockpit.

  Ben acknowledged her with an agreeable look. She was back in her usual attire—blue Raylon combat vest, low cut, tight-fitting undergarment, utility suspenders studded with ammo, belt and holster over flesh colored tights and buckled knee-high boots. Fiery hair back in a ponytail. She stepped forward and put her hands on Ben’s shoulders, both looking through the viewport. He glanced up at her to see that burning, wild stare. She was a warrior and a half, with blood that always ran a few degrees hotter than most. He didn’t know if it was her Raylon blood, her seasoning as a battlefield killer or a need to constantly be back in the saddle. He figured it was all three. Nevertheless, she stared forward at Station Oficium willing to get it on. He shook his head privately. Twinkling lights bit stark against the pure black backdrop.

  “Lowering into superorbit.” Ben initiated the commands and the vessel slipped gently into the highest orbiting line of vessels. “Okay, REX—”

  “I know, Cap, already spotted it.”

  “Going to auto. Bring us in, buddy.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Hub one-oh-four, dock twelve, upper platform. Do they even know we’re coming?”

  He looked up at his artificial intelligence with a sly smirk. “Of course not.”

  “Was afraid of that.”

  “Come on, where’s your sense of—”

  “I don’t have one, thank you.”

  “Right.” He looked at Tawny. “What about you, sweetheart?”

  “Oh, you know I do,” she said.

  “Heh. Okay, let’s go.” They got up and headed for the upper airlock.

  REX meandered slowly through the curving line of traffic toward Station Oficium, a massively long space station primarily consisting of a docking strip segmented by large social hubs, each of varying levels. Ships from every make in the solar twin system were attached, their occupants engaged in the gaming, dining or transacting that went on at Station Oficium. Most of it was corrupt to one degree or another, either under the table or straight up illegal. As REX veered free from their traffic and headed for hub one-oh-four, Tawny and Ben knew what to expect. This place was one of the system’s deposits for villains and assorted scum. Not even the warring factions of the Ae’ahm and Wi’ahr patrolled here. This place was far from the war, yet action was around every corner.

  They slipped in under the endless frame and came to a gentle stop. REX pivoted himself around and lifted toward a crane arm. There was a thump when connection was made, a second thump as the extending umbilical reached out. A hiss as atmospheres matched.

  REX called up to the top airlock over the comm and said, “Good luck, you two nutjobs.”

  “Oh, stop scowling,” Tawny said as the door rolled away.

  As REX noted their absence and the airlock sealed back, the cargo security cranes down in the main bay crossed—REX crossing his arms, pouting.

  They emerged into the upper main thoroughfare of hub one-oh-four to a mass of foot traffic. Every group in the system was represented from mining outliers of the Nubus IV moon system to station spellsayers constantly hawking for the next weenie-minded sucker to con, from freighter crews searching out their favorite cantinas to refugees escaping colonial establishments ravaged by the war. Personnel auto-carriers navigated the traffic beeping and honking while slave droids hustled along with their masters’ belongings.

  Tawny and Ben had to pause to allow a group of Golothan women to stroll by, each wearing some semblance of green or red denoting their cultural sway and clutching shopping boxes on handles. Moving in the opposite direction were a trio of Station Oficium blue collars, all male, with their large, ribbed protective body covers folded back into collapsed packs on their shoulders, each eyeing the Golothan women and smirking devilishly.

  Tawny and Ben themselves were independent contractors arriving on the station to secure another contract. They expected to run into one of their own at any moment. The meeting could mean camaraderie and drinks, or quite the opposite—fist-a-cuffs and brawling. They were ready for anything. They always were.

  A kiosk set into a station alcove welcomed them as they approached.

  “Welcome to Station Oficium, you two. Are you checking in?”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “Slot twelve.”

  “An RX cargo u
nit?” There was a pause. “Is that Mr. and Mrs. Dash?”

  “Yeah, Oh-One, it’s Mr. and Mrs. Dash.”

  “How you two been?”

  “Busy.”

  “Here for some down time?”

  Ben gave Tawny an impatient look, said, “Actually, we need minor repairs.”

  “Oh dear. What’s the issue?”

  “Breach in the starboard control hub,” Ben said.

  “Okay, hold. Ah, here we go. We have two options. There’s Fexx Pol’s vessel and equipment repair at hub one-two-nine or station service at the main promenade.”

  “We’ll take Fexx Pol.”

  “Are you sure? Station service offers impeccable customer satisfaction while Fexx Pol’s customer rating is lower than satisfactory.”

  Ben chuckled. He knew the truth. Station Oficium ran the customer report streams. Of course they rated themselves highly whereas they shorted the privateer shops. But Tawny and Ben knew Fexx. He was a gregarious sort, very Pendulosi, hardworking and honest—with only the slightest penchant for undercutting his clientele—and they’d done him favors in the past. They’d get better work out of him for a smaller price. Ben said with assurance, “We’ll take Fexx. What’s the schedule?”

  “We’ll have your vessel escorted to one-two-nine within the hour. REX, right? Leave him on auto and we’ll see you there after repairs.”

  “Thanks, Oh-One.”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  Repairs on REX aside, they were actually here to see their Guild contact, Sympto, and they were never too sure if he was friend or foe. Now they had reason to believe he was the later. They had questions for him, and they wanted answers. He said to Tawny, “Should we let him know we’re coming?”

  She said, “You know what I think.”

  He gave her a pressing look.

  She said, “I don’t like him.”

  “Tawny…”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “He’s our contract liaison.”

  “I don’t care. He’s given us too many jobs that went wrong.”

  “They didn’t go wrong, per say,” Ben said.