Chapter 2

Lee tapped the controls, connecting to the network on Foden Dock and downloading the latest updates. With practiced fingers, he navigated the station services to request entry into the outfitting bay. The ship lurched below him with the pad drawing the Nightcrawler into the outpost. Inside the bay, the landing pad moved backward to carry the ship off of the lift mechanism. His back slammed against the seat at the abrupt stop in the bay.

Moving hurt. His encounter with pirates caught up with him. He felt every muscle burn and throb while trying to unfasten himself from the pilot’s seat. It took him pushing through his retaliating muscles when he stood and stretched. Tapping a toe on each boot, he engaged the mag locks to keep him on the deck. Small outposts on the frontier, like Foden Dock, didn’t have artificial gravity. He winced at the pain of lifting each leg against his magboots. A comm signal sounded in the cabin. Through the soreness, he leaned down to open the channel.

“Welcome back, Commander. You’re a little early, aren’t you?” The familiar, bold feminine voice burst through the comms. “I didn’t think you were due till next week?”

“Hey Zee,” Lee responded, “I ran into some, friends. Turns out, they weren’t friendly, so…”

“Yeah, I thought you might need me to fix you back up based on that landing of yours. Do we call that a landing? How bad is she?” Lee could hear her breath huffing over the comms indicating Zee was on the move.

“Oh, you know, she’s a tough bird. She’s seen worse,” Lee evaded almost as if dodging incoming fire.

“Right,” Zee’s voice sounded unconvinced. “I’ll be there in a few.” The commlink disconnected with a zip sound.

At the far end of the bay, Lee could make out someone coming through the door to the gangway. Even in an outpost this small, the shadowy figure was far enough away to appear tiny.

Coming around the lift, Zee stopped for a moment looking over the ship. Lee squinted and thought he could make out her head shaking and her hands going to her hips in disgust before she moved with a purposeful gait down the gangway around the bay.

He walked through the cabin door making his way past his bunk, the passenger cabin, and some of the cargo holds. He hit the wall button and began walking down the ramp as it lowered to the deck.

When he hit the bottom, Zee stepped off the walkway onto the deck. Her sway caused the tools and work rags about her waist to fling in an eye-catching way. As she neared, the red curls of hair that framed her pale, freckled face bounced about her brow in zero-G. The smudges of grime on her forehead and cheeks said she’d already had her hands dirty in someone else’s rig. She wore a smirk on her face as she approached him.

“Zee, look, I’ve got the money for the repairs, I swear. But I also–”

She held up a hand to stop him. “No, no, just don’t,” she interrupted. Lee stopped talking, his mouth still hanging open. She pulled a rag from her belt and wiped her hands before pulling a datapad from the side pocket of her bluish-grey jumpsuit. Tapping through her datapad, she pulled up the log the Nightcrawler delivered to the station network when it connected. “Oh, this is so not gonna be cheap,” she tsked while going over the logs. She shook her head with a half-smile that crawled over her face, “Playing ‘Bucket Billiards’ again are we?”

He couldn’t hold back his eye-roll at the mention of his first asteroid cracking escapade. Vic had finally worn down and let young Lee at the controls. It didn’t go well. “Oh come on, she’s not that bad!”

She continued her playful mocking, “I almost can’t believe anyone could land her like this.”

“At least I didn’t have to get towed this time,” he grinned, a bit bemused. “Can you slot her into the schedule?”

“Sure,” she replied, tapping at her datapad. ”Next week.”

“Oh come on, you’re killing me here. I can’t be down that long!”

“Well then, Commander, it seems you’re going to need to do me some favors if we’re going to get you back up and running.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll buy you a drink,” Lee offered, hoping to avoid anything worse.

“I think you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Drinks. Seriously, that’s it.” At least with drinks, he could be numb to the conversation.

“I guess my repair skills aren’t worth at least a nice dinner?”

“Okay,” he relented. “But if I’m buying dinner, I need a little extra help.”

“What kind of help?” She winked, then her face changed, “Oh, you mean you found one?”

He gave a self-satisfied smile. “I managed to find a used one at a scrap dealer outside of Stillman Camp in 60 Tauri. I don’t think the guy even knew what he had. It needs some work though.”

“Wow,” she said shortly. “That’s really great Lee. You’re on your way.” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Okay, then. Let’s have a look.” She walked past him up the ramp, her face hardened. Her body language spoke volumes. They’d had many rounds of argument on this particular personal mission of his.

“Zee, I’m finally making progress,” he grabbed the rails to pull himself up the ramp with a jump to catch up with her. “On your left. Bay two,” he directed when she paused to decide where to go. Their boots made a metallic clanking sound with each step on the deck.

“I know you’ll never let it go, but it’s been three years, Lee. Have you even made any progress figuring out who, you know, who did it?” She asked amidst the clanging footfalls.

“Not much; still looks like it was a bunch of guns-for-hire, probably to make it more difficult to track down whoever was behind it. There’s got to be a contract record out there somewhere.”

“Just be careful, okay? Revenge has a way of changing you, and not for the better. Remember what Vic used to say?”

“You mean, ‘Don’t get even, get ahead’?”

She nodded.

Vic always had a quip of wisdom to share. He recalled the day he lost his sizable winnings from a round of Socchi, a card game played in niche gaming hubs across the Orion Inner Spur. A couple two-bit thieves had ganked him coming out of the gaming lounge. He tried chasing them down, but they disappeared into a side alley.

“I swear, I’ll get them. I’ll find them and make them pay!” Lee had spit out between breaths. He never was the forgiving type.

“Oh my boy,” Vic shook his head with sadness, or maybe it was regret. “…Always so angry.” Lee remembered Vic’s weathered face and thought lines that seemed to go all the way up on his bald head reminding him of the hard life lessons the old man lived and tried to pass on. Then, in that calm way he always had he told him, ”Don’t get even, get ahead.”

It was one of his more frequent and irritating pearls of wisdom. Lee needed to get ahead of whoever killed Vic, that’s what he needed to do. He needed to be ready for them. He couldn’t give up on it—couldn’t give up on Vic. The upgrade was the insurance he needed.

“This–” he gestured in the direction of the cargo bay, “this is gonna make sure I’m alive long enough to track them down.”

Lee stretched his arm in front of her to tap a sequence into the bay access panel. The hatch door slid open revealing a large object covered in a canvas canopy in the center of the otherwise empty cargo bay. The deck harness, a kind of retractable, stow-able, metal linked strap, restrained it. Lee walked over and tapped the controls to retract the harness. The harness released and folded itself into the deck beside the cargo with a series of clinking sounds. He grabbed a corner of the canvas and motioned to Zee. She went to another corner and together they pulled it off to unveil a ring-shaped machine with a bar out to one side—a used shield generator. It had some minor scoring in a few places but otherwise looked brand new.

Zee moved closer to inspect it. “Wow, it looks like it’s already in pretty great shape—and a size five. This’ll be a pretty big improvement over the mid-sized generator.” She bent down and placed an interface adapter into the shield generator diagnostic port. Pulling her datapad up to her face she began looking through the configuration. “Engineered output rated for 269 megajoules—not bad. In a generator of this size, that’s a really good find! Oh, and a custom duronic capacitance regulator! This is amazing. Where’d you say you got it?”

“Just some dealer I tracked down on CD-11e in 60 Tau,” Lee had almost a wink in his smile before his face snapped into business mode. “So hey, uhh,” he scratched at the back of his head. “Can you install it yourself?”

Her face scrunched in with disbelief, “Are you kidding me? Of course I can, what, you think I’m some sort of rookie? Or because I’m a woman?” Her expression sharpened into a scowl.

“No! I mean, can you do it personally? Not your team.” It wasn’t that he had anything against her team, but he needed to be sure it was a solid install. He knew Zee, trusted her, but others—not so much. “I just need it fitted and hooked in. I’ll handle the firmware. I don’t want too many hands on it. You know what I mean?”

“Oh, well, I mean, sure. But I guess dinner just got upgraded to dinner and dancing!”

Lee’s face dropped before he could regain his composure. “You know I don’t–”

“Tah! No, you’re not getting out of it. Not this time. I have some exciting news and I feel like celebrating tonight. Besides, you know how to fly a ship. It’s just like dancing. Flying is dancing, so you dance all the time. You want it installed by me, those are my terms, Commander.”

“Alright fine. Fine. Dancing. Great.”

“Great,” Zee smiled with smug satisfaction. The freckles on her face somehow sparkled through the grime. She bent down to pick up her diagnostic adapter. “You should go get yourself cleaned up. You can use my place. Oh, and wear something nicer than your flight suit.” She made a gesture on her datapad toward him and he pulled his own out from his arm pocket. A temporary key to her apartment popped up on the display.

“Hey, this is my best suit!”

“For flying! Not for dancing.”

“Flying is dancing!” He winked.

She smiled and put a hand on his chest then pushed him out of the bay. “You go get yourself cleaned up. I’ve got work to do.”

Lee picked up a few things from the Nightcrawler before heading to the crew quarters. His boots clanked louder in the narrow corridors. The dim, sporadic flickering of light revealed layers of filth on the rugged walls. A dank smell that assaulted his senses seemed to emanate from some form of unidentifiable sludgy build-up in the corners. The entire outpost was in a general state of disrepair from the years of abuse during the mining rush when the system’s resources were pristine.

He moved through the station’s shop district. There was only one on a small outpost like this, unlike the dozen or so on a Coriolis megacity station. Small as it was, it was a ghost town with many vacant storefronts, evidence of an economic downturn that forced owners to leave for more profitable pursuits. He estimated there couldn’t be more than a few hundred people left on an outpost that could handle a couple thousand. He passed by the station’s only drinking establishment, a little hole-in-the-wall place with a central wrap-around bar, and a couple of tables on each side. The nondescript holo-signage out front read: A Shot in the Dark. Here they never needed to compete for attention. Inside, a couple of patrons were hanging about.

He took a lift from the shop district to get to Zee’s place in the crew quarters. After waving the datapad in front of the door, it slid open, recognizing the valid digital key Zee had transferred to him.

Her quarters were a decent size. The low population likely contributed to larger units being available. It surprised Lee how cluttered her quarters were. Datapads large and small floated in random areas. He grabbed one floating near him and found a shield booster technical manual glowing from the display. She was always studying, especially these past couple of years. It was, in part, what made her so good at her job.

The ache in his muscles forced him to take his time getting cleaned up. Before jumping into a sonic shower, he put his flight suit through a clean cycle. Rather than the fancy dinner attire Zee requested, he decided to put his now clean flight suit back on. But, to humor her, he at least threw on a Leestian-hide jacket he picked up from the Nightcrawler.

Continuing to relax, he spent a couple hours looking over his datapad to check the latest GalNet newsfeeds. He made a habit of checking headlines often on the off chance something might give him a new lead to follow. Lee was no investigator, but he had to do it. When he’d reported everything, the authorities opened an investigation. There were rounds of inquiries. He gave the detectives everything he could remember. Then, without so much as a whisper, the investigation went quiet, as if silenced. After more than a dozen requests for progress, he got nothing.

His mind raced back, and he found himself back there—outside the Nightcrawler. His flight suit and RemLok helmet protected him from the hostile vacuum of space while tethered to the hull. A field of tumbling mountains of icy rock emerged out of the gravity-swept dust of the rings. The faint glow of the slumbering giant planet’s edges peaked above and below the thick haze. Shadowy beams spread in slow motion around him from the looming shadows thrown by a massive boulder in front of the ship. His helmet crackled with noise—something, someone was talking, no, yelling at him. But the voice was breaking in and out. It had to be from Vic inside the ship. But Lee was outside. A spacewalk. He was tethered underneath, beside the cargo hatch. What was he doing out there again?

Out of the dark, streaks appeared emerging from a distant contingent of ships in a broad line just above the rings. It seemed like almost a hundred white threads were stretching, reaching out, all heading directly toward them. He felt the tug of the tethers as the Nightcrawler maneuvered, taking its time to come up to speed.

There was no time.

The ship couldn’t move fast enough with him stuck outside. In an instant, it seemed, the streaking clouds surrounded them and one-by-one struck the field of asteroids. Then waves of more and more white vaporous streaks reflected in his visor. One tore into the rock in front of them—a silent jet of dust erupting from asteroid’s surface. He turned his head and barely caught a glimpse of another ship in the distance; a wedge-shape moved among the rings. Bigger than a Sidewinder—a Cobra?

The Nightcrawler’s main engines fired. In the distance, the other ship made a hard bank through the asteroid field, some sort of evasive maneuver before…

Silent detonations almost in sequence, one after another, surrounded them. A growing cloud of debris obscured the giant planet beyond. No place to go. No time to move. Dust and debris engulfed everything.

Another explosion ripped a chunk out of the enormous rock they were trying to escape. Chain reactions of smaller chunks smashed into other asteroids around them, breaking off more and more pieces behind them, beside them. Almost in slow motion, a large fragment slammed into an asteroid above them. Then a painful jolt ripped the handholds from his grip, but the tethers caught and jerked him back. He was violently tossed until…

He snapped himself out of the memory, stood up, and paced the apartment. Vic deserved to have the cowards that killed him brought to justice. For all that Vic gave him, he owed him that much, and more. It was up to him, whether Zee agreed with him or not.

Every time that memory surfaced, he got worked up. He needed a drink. After looking around and finding nothing in the way of spirits in Zee’s apartment, he took off, taking the lift back to the storefront level.

The bar was as filthy as the rest of the station. A GalNet feed played across several screens. Its volume stayed at a reasonable background level—enough to be heard if one wanted to pay attention to it. There was also a vintage digital jukebox that gave the bar its only decorative charm.

Behind the bar stood an oversized man that went by the name ‘Dex’. Wild, curly reddish-brown hair covered his head and seemed to go wherever it wanted. He had a rough face and scars down his thick neck. More notable than anything else, though, was his bionic right arm. It had a dated look, not as smooth and natural as the latest tech.

Dex turned around with an almost sixth-sense that a new customer was walking in. His arms opened wide with a big toothy smile. “Sollinger! What brings ya back this way?”

“Heya Dex. Just in for some repairs and upgrades. How ya been?”

“Upgrades, uh? Didn’t know ya could upgrade scrap heaps like the Nightcrawler!” Dex gave a devilish grin while cleaning a glass with a sonic sterilizer.

“Oh yeah, sure they will! They’ll even upgrade piles of crap like you. When you gonna get that new arm?”

“Doncha start that chyt with me again. This ‘un does me jes fine. Ya know I don’t trust those corpies an’ their spy gear.”

Lee smiled at how easy it was to rile the big guy up, and winked at him.

Dex reared back with a belly laugh, “Welcome back, Lee. What canna getcha?”

“Double bourbon, neat. I’m gonna be here awhile. I got conned into dinner with Zee.”

Dex gave a wry grin. “Ain’t no one that can con Sollinger, ‘less he wants to be conned,” he mocked Lee with a wink. His mechanical arm extended to the liquor shelf to retrieve a purplish-black bottle. Then he held a zero-G glass to the dispenser at the top of the bottle. A spray of dark golden brown globules of liquid floated into the glass. Beads of liquid collected into an undulating blob contained inside the glass by a low-energy field at the opening. With the right amount of directed energy, the liquid would flow through at the edges of the field but otherwise stayed contained.

Lee threw back the glass with enough motion to force some of the liquid into his mouth. It took a while to get the hang of it, but frequenting this establishment over the years with Vic, it was second nature to him now. He savored the slow burn. After a few more sips, the drink began to take effect, causing his attention to drift to the GalNet feed:

…told reporters that after almost five years, the investigation into the disappearance of Senator Madius Draden’s son, Sylus Draden, had reached an impasse and would be ceasing all operations. Detective Harrin, a spokesperson for the Orions Eye investigation, made the following statement, “With no new leads, this investigation can no longer make meaningful progress. In coordination with Senator Draden’s office, and with immense regret, we are closing the investigation and the campaign to raise money for search and rescue efforts.” The office of Senator Draden announced a remembrance ceremony on Alit 8 for the late Sylus Draden scheduled for next week.

Thargoid Defense Initiatives. The initiatives to support the development of a defensive infrastructure against Thargoid incursions in the Hyades Sector continue. Consular Alden Duryss renewed his mandate for all industries to participate in fortification efforts with a three-fold increase in the construction of defensive anti-xeno batteries across stations and outposts in the region. In a recent interview, Consular Duryss praised local governments that increased their investments in military and militia units, in some cases doubling according to financial reports…

“Honestly, that guy Duryss is smart to prepare. I heard the Thargoids were heading this way.” A young man’s voice came from across the bar. He had a baby face sort of look, winsome and innocent. Lee noticed the pricey high-end flight suit that he wore with an air of arrogance that seemed to match it.

“You think so?” Lee replied.

“I mean, you gotta do it, right? Seems like most people are behind him.”

Lee couldn’t resist instigating a bit if for nothing else than the pure entertainment of it. “He’s just another corporate goon. Right, Dex?”

“Now ya listen good, both uh’ya. These politicking CEO’s are worse than anything else. You stay outta their way, especially this Duryss fella.” Dex’s face held a serious glare. Lee couldn’t stifle his grin.

“Well, the ‘goids are pushing further and further this way. Gotta do something, right? I mean, I’ve done some contract work for Duryss’s people before. They seem alright to me. I got some great payouts. Just didn’t know it was setting up all this.” The young man gestured at one of the screens with the news feed.

“Nice flight suit,” Lee remarked before taking a quick sip.

“Eh, not even my best one. Yours, is nice, I guess. I like your jacket, though. What’s your gig?”

“Nothing fancy. I move goods from here to there.”

“A trader then. I’m a combat pilot—for hire, if you know anyone that needs one.”

“And,” Lee paused, waiting for him. “Who do I tell them to contact?”

“Oh, Commander Jackson Dekker. They call me ’TwoK’. I fly the Fer-de-Lance in bay two, the Para Bellum.”

Dex whistled at the mention of a Fer-de-Lance. “Nice hardware, Mr. Fancy. This guy here,” he pointed at Lee with his metal thumb, “he flies scrap heaps. See, ya gotta understand how much skill that takes,” the oversized man chortled behind the bar.

“You’re so full of chyt.” Lee winked and raised his glass to Dex with a gentle hand to keep the liquid from spraying out. Dex grinned back. Lee turned back to the younger pilot raising his glass again, “Nice to meet you, Jackson. How long you been flying for Duryss?”

“Oh, that was a while ago, a few years back. Before all this Thargoid defense stuff he’s been faffing about. Good money, though, even with the large wings. Hey, you ever wing up? Maybe you could use some cover on those trading runs.”

“I keep a low profile, and I don’t need escorts.”

“Shame. But, honestly, you want an escort to keep your cargo safe. Think of it like insurance for your shipments. I mean, if I were you, I’d be begging me to help,” Jackson smirked.

Dex turned to put his arms on the bar in front of Jackson, “Oh no, you see, this boy’s high class,” he tilted his head toward Lee. “He’s got a date with the best maintenance tech on the station, ya know. He’s got standards.”

“And I definitely don’t need a wingmate for that run.”

“I’m the best wingman you’re gonna find out here.” Jackson sat back as if he rested his case on nothing more than his own opinion. He took his drink and tipped it back to drain it. Stunned for a moment, he shook his head, reeling from the strength of the purple-tinted obsidian liquid, and shoved his glass back onto the bar forcing the remaining droplets to escape their containment. “Another,” he paused to recompose himself and take a gulp of air. “Gravity Well,” he ordered.

Without taking his eyes off of Jackson, Dex grabbed another shot glass and began preparing it. “You’re a might eager to wing up with a piece o’ work like Sollinger.”

Jackson shrugged, “Haven’t had a contract in ages. It’s the only way I got left to climb the ranks in the Pilot’s Federation.”

Looking around the bar at no one in particular, Lee responded, “Right well, I think I’ll manage somehow. Thanks for the offer.”

“I’m telling you, you want me around. A: the Para Bellum’s fully decked out. Frag cannons, pulse lasers, and a huge multi-cannon. Literally tears through everything and has a pitch rate that’ll make your cheeks pucker. And B: I can take down anything. I’ve killed three at once. Come on, give me a chance, I’ll prove it.”

Lee raised his hands at Jackson, “I get it. You’re a well-equipped pilot with some experience. If I get wind of any opportunities, you’ll be the first to know. Promise,” Lee went to grab his drink to finish it off.

“Look pal, I’ve smoked Elite pilots.”

“I’m sure you have. You’re probably rated ‘Dangerous’ about to hit ‘Elite’. It’s nothing personal, it’s just my style.”

At that moment, emergency lights flashed around them. Every holo-sign along the shopping thoroughfare flickered into a station-wide warning:

Emergency Protocol. Evacuate. Evacuate.