Star Runners: Dark Space

Chapter 9

9

"Welcome aboard the Shadow."

The yacht owned by the mysterious Douglas Foster was as smooth as the man, precise in its design with none of the angular workings found in most spacecraft. Boarding Foster's ship was like walking into a solid mass of polished obsidian. The corridor glistened with a perfect reflection. The interior’s sole light a dark purple track LED extending the length of the narrow passage.

Foster halted and turned around as the landing ramp closed, the servos whining until a soft hiss signaled a seal.

"You touch nothing while on board," he said, placing his hand on his neck and leaning his head back. "You need something, you touch the wall and ask."

With his left hand gripping the strap to his machine gun, he pressed his right palm to the wall. A blue field surrounded his hand followed by a ping. A section of the wall shot upward, disappearing into the ceiling and revealing tight quarters with two black slabs on either side separated by a sink inset.

Matta recoiled at the sudden movement, grabbing Josh's arm as she did so. "What is that?”

Josh looked at Foster. "You expect us to get locked in there?"

"Yes. I don't have the energy to babysit you while I take off and prep the curvature drive. You wanna ride?" He nodded toward the quarters. "This is the price of the ticket."

He activated another section adjacent to the room, and a drawer extended.

"Weapons go here," Foster said. "I'll give them back when we get where we're going."

“What’s your plan?”

"First is Ashia. Where we go from there, we'll find out soon enough."

Eyeing Matta, Josh nodded and stepped into the tight quarters. She sat on the slab gently as if it would vanish. He touched her shoulder to provide a sense of comfort he didn't feel. Folding his arms over his chest, he looked back at Foster.

"We'll play along," he said, "as long as we get to our friends."

Foster sighed as if bored. "I'll contact you when we've reached the system."

"And then what?" Matta asked, peering up at Foster.

"I'm working that out now."

Without another word, Foster pressed his hand to the wall, and the door crashed down with a scraping sound.

For a moment, all Josh could hear was Matta's frantic breathing.

"It'll be all right," he said, staring at his reflection. "It'll be fine."

"How do you know this?"

"Because he strikes me as the kind of man who would’ve killed us if he didn't see value in allowing us to live."

She scoffed. "Maybe you tell me one day how that supposed to make me feel better."

He looked at her. "Foster needs you alive a lot more than he needs me. No matter what happens—never give him that frequency.”

Her lips parted. "I wouldn't help him if he did something to you."

"Let's hope he knows that, too."

As he collapsed on the hard slab cold as ice, Josh felt as if they were sitting in a morgue and hoped that was far from the truth. A slight vibration tingled under his feet, growing into a solid rumble.

"We're taking off," Josh said with a nod.

"Took you all that fancy Legion training to figure that out, did it?"

He ignored her and closed his eyes, listening to the smooth action of the engines coming to life. Another system came online—probably the landing skids—and then the familiar lurch in the pit of his stomach as the moon's gravity fought with the ship's artificial atmosphere.

"Never seen a ship like this," Matta said, leaning over and running her finger on the reflective surface. "Must cost a fortune—several fortunes!—unlike anything in Ilman City!”

Even though he didn't recognize the city she mentioned, Josh nodded, pressing his hand to the glass wall. A blue outline surrounded his palm.

"Assistance required?" a robotic female voice cooed from the wall.

"Uh," he said, glancing back at Matta, "not right now. Thanks."

The wall darkened.

A glass ship that talks, he thought. Crazy.

"Yes," he exhaled, "very expensive stuff this Foster has—if that's really his name. He had a personal shroud, too."

"Assassins make good money," Matta said, her glazed eyes on the deck. "But I don't think he's just any assassin."

He raised his eyebrows. "I couldn't believe those aliens back there. Lasers didn't have any effect on their armor. I've never even heard of technology like that, but he just took them out."

"I think he's Ghost."

"Sure moved like one."

"No," she said, folding her legs beneath her and pulling her knees to her chest, "I think he might be the Ghost."

He frowned. "Not following you."

"Since I was little, long before I came to work with Waylon, I heard tales of a killer with a thousand names who murdered for money. When I was older, some of the men talked about this 'Ghost' from time-to-time. Never really believed it until today."

Josh looked at the reflective ceiling. He knew so little about the universe. Most of his training had taught him about flying and surviving, but little about the rest of known space. He'd seen terrible things during his brief service to the Legion and, somehow, he feared there was much more waiting for him.

"Are you saying we've made a mistake?" he asked, his stomach churning. "There's nothing we can do about that now."

"You're right. We didn't have a choice. Most of my people were onboard the Sparkling Light. Everyone back at the Rock wouldn't be much help out here.”

Josh smiled, recalling she’d used the term before. "'The Rock?'"

"That's what we started calling the asteroid base. You like it?"

Grinning, he folded his arms across his chest. "Reminds me of a friend."

Josh stared at the deck. In all the excitement, he hadn’t thought of Waylon’s wife and son. He remembered eating dinner with the rest of the group, wondering if they would help. It had been the first real meal he’d had since escaping from the Tyral Pirates. Recalling the love Waylon showed for his family, he felt a renewed urgency to bring the lost Barracudas home.

More mechanical sounds echoed through the ship like smaller engines from a forklift.

"So," he said, leaning against the cold wall, "tell me what you guys were selling on Ashia."

"Rifles and various weapons."

"I thought you didn't deal in guns."

"We didn't," Matta said, resting her cheek on her knee. "But that planet had a vein of Lutimite so big Waylon said it'd be our retirement fund. At first, we salvaged a derelict vessel with a supply of older laser rifles and off we went. Later, we found other ways to keep bringing the guns to Ashia to trade."

"I see."

The pieces of Waylon's operation started to fall together. His old friend hadn't spent time resting on his laurels. The Barracudas had been making a good living.

"Is it possible Waylon got sidetracked from Ashia and moved elsewhere?" he asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head. “I kept searching for his position until my crappy ship’s battery died. He’d be showing up if it were in range. Our signals bounce off other communication relays in Legion Space, some in Zahlian, too. Waylon said he'd be able to find us on the Fringe if something happened. If they're out of range, they're either deep in Imperial territory or ..."

"Or what?"

“A lot farther.” Staring at her hands, she shuddered and added, "I'm afraid."

He placed his hand on her and tapped. "We'll get through this together and find Waylon and the others.”

Her dark eyes glistened. "What made you come back?"

Remembering the hectic evacuation of the pirate asteroid base, he stared at the deck. "I gave you my word. Besides, another friend needs my help, and I thought Waylon would have the answer."

"Answer? 'Bout what?"

He shook his head, the image of Ryker struggling flashing in his mind. "My best friend's girl’s hurting bad from some experiments done on her. It's a weird tech I was hoping Waylon might know something about.”

"Boss never kept me too updated on what we was runnin'. Sorry. I just flew escort and did odd jobs for the group.” Her chin quivered. "I miss them so much. "

“You got any other family?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"No."

He looked at her. "No one?"

“You ‘member Lark?”

Josh remembered her brother being cut down on the Tyral Pirate base. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

She sighed, her eyes focusing on the ceiling. "Unwanted infants on my planet are often left in the streets to die or be sold into slavery ... or something even worse. A man found me and Lark, expecting a big payday. Waylon later traded for us. I don't remember any of this. Don’t like imagining what Waylon saved us from. Barracudas are the only family I've ever known. I'd die if something happened to them."

They sat in silence, both of them lying on their backs and staring at the dark ceiling.

Josh knew the Barracudas appeared close, but he was starting to realize once Waylon, despite his rugged exterior, accepted someone into his group, loyalty ran deep. This was why the man had to be saved.

"Boss always said you’d probably married that Kadyn of yours and started a family."

Josh raised his head from the slab. “Really? He said that?”

“Yep.” She cast a glance in his direction. “That happen?”

He tapped his fingers on his stomach, lost in memories of his final arguments with Kadyn. She might never hear what happened to him. He’d just disappear.

“No,” he said finally, “it didn’t happen.”

“Why?”

"Get some rest," he said, closing his eyes. "Try not to think of these things. Worrying’s not productive."

"You figure out how to stop worrying," she said as she exhaled, "you let me know."

Something screeched for an instant, jolting Josh from a nap.

"Need you two down in the cargo hold," Foster's voice blared into their quarters. "Now."

Stretching, Josh glanced at Matta, who rose from the slab and rubbed her eyes.

"How do we get there?" he asked.

Foster grumbled and exhaled into the microphone. "Follow the indicators on the glass. Come on—move it."

The signal clicked, ending the transmission.

"Friendly, ain't he?" Matta asked with a smirk, sliding her legs to the deck. "Think he 'bout to toss us out an airlock?"

Josh shook his head as he stood. "Quit thinking like that. The man's got to have a plan. Let's find out what it is."

"And if he decided we’re not part of this plan?"

"No matter what, it beats starving to death back there at Sanctum."

"True, true," she nodded, stepping in front of the wall they entered through two hours ago. "Hello?"

She touched the flawless glass with her index finger, and it swept upward with a whoosh. Taking a step back, she shook her head.

"Crazy ship, isn't it?"

"Sure," he said, moving into the corridor and facing the wall where he remembered Foster placing the weapons. Sliding his hands across the cold surface, he bit his lip when nothing happened.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Our weapons."

Matta sighed. "You really think he'd leave it unlocked?”

"You never know."

Turning back to the corridor lit in purple LEDs, Josh saw the indicators Foster mentioned: dull white arrows pointing aft. Nodding forward, he started walking and raised his hand toward the corridor, beckoning Matta to follow as he yawned.

"You tired?" she asked.

"No, not really. Good power nap."

"Power nap?"

He smiled. "Yeah, means it was a good snooze."

"Snooze?"

"Never mind," he said, pausing as another panel moved out of the way. "It was nice to sleep without having—"

He hadn't even realized it, but he’d taken a brief nap with no cold sweats or nightmarish visions.

"Having what?" Matta asked.

"Um,” he said, "without having to drink coffee to wake me up."

"Oh."

They strolled through the glass ship, differing panels sliding out of their way. After a minute passed of following the arrows, Josh realized he was completely lost. A vessel this advanced with no control boards or distinctive features would be impossible to navigate without help. Perhaps that was the point.

A larger section of glass parted, revealing a dimly lit cargo hold. A steel staircase descended to the shining deck where Foster stood beside a small vessel, a lit welding torch in his hand. He slid a circular pair of goggles up his forehead.

"Took you long enough," he said, nodding toward his project. "Like it?"

Josh froze. "That’s—"

"My ship!" Matta shouted, pushing past him. "I thought it wouldn't fly again."

"Yeah," Foster said, "I thought about that. Before we left, I realized my ship's lift could grab this little thing and bring it on board. I've got two other small vessels on board; a tug and a scout. But we can use yours as part of the plan."

Josh followed Matta down the stairs, their boots clanging on the steel. He remembered hearing the multitude of noises on the ship after they took off, and now he knew what they were.

Matta rushed to her ship, sliding her fingers across the starboard wing.

"So you loaded this?" Josh asked, walking toward the fighter that brought him to Sanctum. "And repaired the canopy?"

"Didn't take much doing as I have a fabricator on board. Still, I wouldn't fly it without a personal life support system until it gets checked out. I aim to finish this job. Right now, this quaint little fighter’s part of my plan.”

"Hey!" Matta draped her arms on the engine as if she hugged it. "She's better than quaint!"

Josh sighed, wondering why Foster had gone to the effort in repairing the ship. "You must be pretty sure of this plan of yours.”

"Of course," he said, shutting down the torch and pulling off the goggles. "Now that we got this ship relatively spaceworthy, we're going to curve into the Ashia system."

"We're not in the Ashia system?"

Foster shook his head. "Orbiting a lifeless rock in the Latabelle sector on the Legion border with the Frontier. I wanted a quiet place to work on this before we continued to Ashia."

"And then what?"

Foster looked at him, a glimmer in his eye. "We get to see how good you are, Star Runner."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Smiling, Foster tapped the repaired canopy. "We're going fishing."

Matta frowned. "Fishing?"

Foster pointed at Josh, his expression hardening. "And he's the bait."

The sleek yacht slipped away before the Piscean counterattack bolted into the system, taking with it the criminals he sought. He rewound the engagement in the cavern base, the images transmitting from the retreating vessel and illuminating the dark room on the alien world so far from his space. Soon, those responsible for his banishment would be dead.

But not today.

He sighed, watching the incident on Sanctum play out before his ships withdrew. His small force tracking the transmission from the Barracudas’ lair had failed, allowing at least two of the smugglers to flee with the help of a talented individual he didn’t expect to see.

No matter, he thought, focusing on the image of the two individuals fighting back against his Pisceans. The small woman he didn’t recognize but assumed she was one of Waylon Neary’s people. He enhanced the image, focusing on the male and magnifying his face.

Ah, the Star Runner.

His vengeance was at hand, so close he could taste it. Although better surveillance equipment would expedite the completion of his goals, he would continue scanning all known space for the Barracudas frequency. They’d transmit in the open again soon enough. Then, he’d have them all.

Dax Rodon leaned into the screen and said, “I will find you.”