Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Escape

D arius eased the controls forward and engaged the lower thrusters. The M3 rose into grey drizzle, revealing an expanse of dark jungle. A few tendrils of mist clung around the treetops. For now he would follow the route he'd been sent. The M3 had a pair of underwing missile launchers and two laser cannons front and back but they were no match for the ship waiting for them. It was an ideal pirate ship, a heavily-armed variation of the interceptor class cruiser. In fact, that cruiser's name was Valkyr and it belonged to Vlad Kuznetsov.

"What now, Fletcher?"

Cilla's voice quavered. She was scared and he couldn't blame her.

"This ship has a shift drive. I'll get her as far away from the cruiser as I can, then make a break. We'll make it."

Famous last words. But they weren't likely to fire on the M3, not if they thought Yrena was on board. So, where to? Freetown was too obvious, even if it were possible. He asked the ship's IS to show reachable systems. Santa Cruz had a large spaceport with connections to Malmos and Santara. Vamenos was small, out of the way, and not part of the Confederacy. He was certain their pursuers wouldn't be giving up.

Valkyr grew in the screens, becoming a discernible ship instead of a glowing point.

"Fletcher?" Cilla pleaded.

"We'll head for Vamenos, then we'll break out and go to Santa Cruz. The IS is plotting a course."

" Plot completed ," the IS said.

"Go ahead."

" Prepare for shift drive in —," the IS said.

"Now. Do it now."

***

Forsyth stared at the spot where the M3 used to be. "What in all the hells in all the circles of misery just happened?" He turned on Captain Brimani, standing there staring at him like a stuck pig. "Follow them. Track them."

Brimani pursed his lips. "They've gone to shift space. I can find the nearest likely destinations on that route."

"Don't stand there. Get on to it." Of all the incompetent idiots, he had to be stuck with this one. And if he didn't deliver Yrena to Vlad Kuznetsov…

"Settle down, Forsyth." Serg put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Hard. "While the captain's doing his job, why don't we consider what's happened here?"

Forsyth shrugged him off. He was right, damn him. But it wasn't his head eyeing the chopping block. He ran a hand through his hair. "Carmeni's one of yours, isn't he? I reckon he's made a dash for it to do his own deal."

Serg glanced around at the backs of people working on screens. "Calm down." The flash in Serg's eyes signaled he wasn't asking. "Captain, send Vlad and Georgi down to the site where the M3 took off. I want to know what's down there."

Brimani nodded. "Of course, sir."

"Let's take this off the bridge, shall we?" Serg added, staring at Forsyth.

Forsyth hadn't noticed before how piercing Serg's eyes were when he was angry. "Sure." He mentally kicked himself as he led the way to one of the ready rooms next to the bridge. Best to keep on the right side of Serg.

The big man sank into a chair on one side of the conference table. "Carmeni isn't one of ours, he's a Thurbass local. Our pilots recommended getting somebody who knew the place. So, I did. What you're suggesting is possible, but I don't think it's likely. He'd have to know he's a dead man walking if he does something like that."

Forsyth kicked himself again and tried to push down the butterflies starting a jig in his stomach. Maybe Serg was just as nasty as Demtri. He must be out of practice, losing his rag like that. He dredged up a smile. "True. You were right. We'll get some answers when we find out what's down there. It might have nothing to do with Yrena." Although he doubted it.

The cold light had faded from Serg's eyes. "I doubt that's likely. I've ordered kaff. We both need to think about where that M3 might be headed as soon as the scout team gets back."

A little over an hour later the leader of the scout team, a slim, taut man with shrewd brown eyes, reported to the ready room.

"Looks like she was rescued. Somebody crashed a skimmer through the front door. We found three bodies, all shot. All their weapons and their comms were taken."

Serg's eyes narrowed. "Any sign of the woman?"

Vlad shook his head. "She's gone. But she was there. We checked the surveillance system. It had been turned off but before that, there was vision." He directed the images to the room's large screen.

Six grinning men entered with Yrena, who looked battered but defiant. The time stamp was several days ago. Carmeni, the pilot, was already in the building. A day later, four of the men had disappeared.

Serg fast-forwarded past the footage of men drinking beer and sitting around the table, and the occasional visit to Yrena who had been locked into another room. Days followed each other, then the images finished abruptly last night.

"Somebody cut the feed," Forsyth said, frowning. "That suggests a professional but crashing through the front door in a rented skimmer doesn't. Can you find out who rented the skimmer?"

Serg nodded. "Shouldn't be too hard. I have a contact in Freetown. What's the registration?"

Forsyth found a clear image of the front of the wrecked machine and told him.

Vlad cleared his throat. "Sir? I think there was two of 'em. Three mugs were used."

"Only two?" Forsyth grinned. "It's sounding more and more like a hero rescue. I wonder who the heroes are?"

Serg chuckled. "I reckon we've got one of them. Somebody called Darius Fletcher hired the skimmer. He arrived on planet on the Galaxy Adventurer ."

Forsyth found the passenger list for the cruise ship on his implant. Darius Fletcher. Commander Fletcher. But why would he hare off after the lovely Yrena? Love interest? "Can we find out who else stayed on Thurbass when the ship left?"

"A woman. Cilla Beckstein. Here's an image." Serg put the image on the screen.

Forsyth gazed at a good-looking woman with dark blue eyes. "What do we know about her?"

"Not much. The ships don't keep details. Occupation is listed as systems engineer."

"Hmmm. Maybe she's the one that turned off the surveillance system." Forsyth leaned back in his chair and smiled. Those two would end up regretting their heroism. Just as soon as Yrena was on this ship. "Where would they have gone in an M3?"

"Not Freetown," Serg replied. "They would have arrived there by now and they haven't. And the captain tells me the ship would not have been able to make it back to Santara." He brought up a graphic of the space sector. "Vamenos is the closest. It's not part of the Confederacy, has a good trade in clandestine merchandise and the vector they were on matches Vamenos as the target."

Forsyth tapped the tips of his fingers together. What would he do? Fly to an obscure station where he'd stand out like a sore thumb or try to mingle in a crowd? "What's the biggest, busiest planet in range?"

"Santa Cruz. But Vamenos is closer. All they'll need is a way to contact Julius Cornelis who will already be looking for her," Serg said. "They can do that from any of them."

Forsyth couldn't argue with that. "You have contacts on both?"

"Yes."

"Tell them to be on the lookout."

***

Cilla sighed with relief. Shift space had never been so welcome. Yrena sagged in her seat, head back, eyes closed. "I can't wait to get home."

Fletcher came to sit with them. "Don't get too comfortable. They won't have given up."

Yrena's eyes snapped open. "They can't follow us in shift space, can they?"

"Not directly. But they would have recorded the vector the ship traveled on and extrapolate targets from there. I headed us for Vamenos but I'll take us out and go to Santa Cruz instead."

Yrena nodded.

"Look, why don't I fix up your implant?" Cilla said. "Then we can see what this ship has to offer."

They moved to the M3's tiny common room, fitted out with a fold-out table and a couple of benches. Cilla took out the comm with the blocking app and ran a routine to reverse the procedure. "You will have lost a few things from your implant. They didn't worry too much about keeping your data intact but I've recovered most of it."

Yrena beamed. "It felt very strange being unable to contact anyone."

Cilla received Yrena's request for contact and accepted. If nothing else, it would test how well her repairs had worked. " All good? " she asked.

" Yes. A couple of recent calls are missing but I'm sure I'll live ."

"Where did you learn to do that?" Yrena asked.

Cilla noted the change of tone, the admiration in the other woman's expression. "I went to university. Studied nano-engineering."

"I never wanted to go to college. Was it fun?"

"Fun? Not really fun. Absorbing, interesting, something I could do by myself." Hidden away in a lab or, more often, working from home.

"What about the parties? Boyfriends?"

Cilla smiled. How Cilla lived wouldn't have suited Yrena at all. "Other people had boyfriends and parties. You could if you wanted to."

"And you didn't?"

"I'm not like you."

Yrena nodded, her expression pensive.

Cilla broke the silence. "So, what do you do when you're not at parties?"

"I run a chain of fashion stores. They're part of the family business."

Cilla stared. She wouldn't have imagined Yrena doing anything useful. "How did you learn to do that?"

Yrena shot her a pitying look. "I know about fashion. My father taught me how to run a business. The stores weren't doing well until I took over. They've made a profit for the first time in three years."

Wow. What was that about books and covers? "I'm impressed. Where did you meet your husband?" She'd almost said 'wotsisname'. Come to think of it, what was his name?

"Thad?" Yrena sighed. "He's… was… a clothing manufacturer. I did some deals with his firm. He was good-looking and fun. My father wanted me to marry somebody else. But Thad adored me." She looked away, her eyes glistening.

"I'm sorry." It sounded so meaningless, so pathetic. But what did you say? It was what others said to her when her mother died.

Yrena blinked back the tears, her expression hardening. "They won't have time to be sorry. They'll be dead." She stood. "If we've finished, I'd like to get a bit of sleep. I didn't get much down there."

"Sure. You take the cabin on the left."

Yrena nodded and stumbled away along the corridor.

Cilla went to find Fletcher, who still sat in the pilot's seat with his head back. He was probably asleep, so she backed away.

He sat up, blinking as he looked over his shoulder at her. "All done?"

"Uh, Yrena's implant? Yes, all done." She moved further into the cockpit. "Are you okay? You look a bit gray." He looked tired, the lines in his face standing out like an etching.

His lips curved in a smile. "The leg's a bit sore. I'm tired. Looks to me you are, too."

Now he mentioned it, she was.

"We'll be in shift space for a while. We all need to get some rest."

She nodded. "Yrena's already gone off to do that."

"Okay. You take the other cabin. I can sleep here."

"No you can't. I'm smaller than you. You take the bed." Her nerves twitched. She would be by herself albeit on a spaceship in shift space.

He was shaking his head.

She waved her hand. "Look, I've got a better idea. I… don't want to be alone. You need to stretch out. You use the bed in the cabin, I'll lay on the floor. And don't shake your head at me. It'll be fine. Maahes is always there with me." She stood. "Come on."