Starship Rogue series Box Set by Chris Turner

Author:Chris Turner [Turner, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Innersky Books
Published: 2019-10-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Maybe not whole, but I was alive and had one last piece of unfinished business to carry out. The prosthetic started to feel like a part of me, more natural. Maybe I was just getting used to the lack of sensations in my right fingers? I had this mechanized hand on the end of my wrist, something that used to be flesh and bone.

The ship crossed the gulfs back to Elphi Alpha. Returning in good time, our first priority was to ditch this stealth craft. We traded our state-of-the-art vehicle for Bantam, an Alpha-Omega Beamer similar to my own Explorer. Regzie’s WR, whom we’d done business with during the impound scam, was happy to oblige. He and his associates gave us an extra bonus in change—15k yols, citing our current track record of good business relations. I convinced them to throw in a bunch of tools and ship accessories on the side.

“A mighty fine piece of hardware you have there, Mr. Rambo. Any more trades you’d like to propose, bring ’em our way.”

“Sure, I’ll do that.”

It was time to give Jesra and her brood of planets a rest and let Baer and his men’s ghosts lie. I took the Beamer on a direct course toward the inner planets, Tarsus.

“Where now?” Wren asked from across the bridge’s conference table. A pang of worry flicked across those dark-shadowed eyes.

When I didn’t reply, she grew more restless. “Rusco, don’t do anything stupid. That fucker Mong will break your legs and pluck out your eyebrows.”

“Don’t worry, Wren, nothing so dramatic. If I want dear old Mong dead, I’ll leave the heavy lifting to Batman.”

“Very funny, but seriously, why not let sleeping dogs—”

“Relax.” I outlined my plan to her. The fact that Pazarol was still alive was a loose end that couldn’t be tolerated. “Dollars to donuts, Mong’ll contract Pazarol to be my next executioner.” I grimaced, recalling Pazzy’s last promise of playing bounty hunter.

Wren shook her head in dim frustration. “Does it ever end?” She rubbed her eyes, heaving a sigh.

We came in smooth and low over the north end of the shell-shocked industrial zone that marked Belgen’s business section. Buzzing the haggard clumps of trees, we left Bantam just under a half mile away in an abandoned yard, not far from Pazzy’s crib. Close enough to make a mad dash if we needed to, far enough away that our landing would draw no undue attention. I cut the engines, grabbed my gear, the arsenal of weaponry and snips to cut the wire fence guarding the lot, then we’d have an exit hole readily accessible when the time came to hoof it out of there. It’d be nip and tuck. I had a remote control for the ship. I could run and operate Bantam in limited scope in case we needed the fury of her guns if the situation got desperate. I hoped to hell not.

I drew in a deep breath, inhaling the pungent odor of ozone, tar and something else—a far-off reek of petrochemicals lacing the air from some tall, grimed smokestacks farther down the way.

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