Project Starfighter (8 page)

Chris was willing to take the
chance. Their stopover up here was a good seven hours. Time enough
for Sid to work some magic and find a way to get them some funds, he
hoped.

“What do you need?” Chris asked,
continuing to walk along the platform with everyone else who had
arrived at the space station.

“Just tools and a computer that
can talk to the outside world.”

“I seem to remember there being a
net café around here,” Chris said. “Want me to come with you?”

“No,” Sid shook his head
immediately. “It’s best I do this alone.”

“You’re sure?” Chris said.

“Positive. But how about I meet
you in the departure lounge in an hour, whichever way it goes. I’m
not going to go for it immediately. I’ll first of all evaluate how
easy it is to do, and just how visible I’ll make myself in the
process.”

“Got it,” Chris nodded. “I’ll
see you, then.”

Leaving Sid to go about his task,
Chris took to wandering the station. He was relieved not to see any
drones around. Perhaps they had already been through here, or maybe
they were yet to come. He was glad that his disguise was still in
place and apparently working. He had become aware of food particles
trapped in his false beard as he had journeyed up from the ground in
the shuttle. Not a good look most of the time, but here it added to
the authenticity.

He passed an electronic noticeboard,
doubling back to see if there was any work to be had. It was possible
that someone might want something transported from Ceradse to Hail.
Some senders chose to work with individuals, rather than companies,
due to budget constraints, paranoia, or because of the dubious nature
of the item being transported.

Chris saw as he commenced working
through the listings that the lead item was the hunt for Sid and
Tyrone. The reward money was now half a million per head. That was a
lot. He ignored it and moved on, flipping through the listings,
glossing over the items and services for sale, and moving to the
‘Help Wanted’ section. No packages or other items were on offer
to be transported to Hail, and not a lot else, either. Hell, he knew
it was a long shot but had hoped to find something in there. But
seriously, who was he kidding? No one had ever been known to pay more
than a hundred at most for the transport of a package within the same
system. The largest offer he had ever seen made on a parcel delivery
was close to one thousand, and that had been for taking something
from one side of the known galaxy to the other.

With little else to do as he waited
for the hour to be up so he could get an update from Sid, Chris began
to idly read through the other adverts. There were a number of people
looking for cheap passage to other systems, some vessels offering
jobs as crew (tempting, but he didn’t want to be tied into a work
contract), ‘removal’ and ‘retirement’ jobs (basically
assassinations, dressed up as casual send-offs for people who had
enjoyed a long and fulfilling career), and adverts placed by those
searching for missing persons.

Chris accessed the retirement jobs,
unsurprised to see that neither the target themselves nor the
compensation on offer were detailed in the description. The client
wished the applicant to contact them using a special system that
Chris had never heard of. It was likely familiar only to those in the
assassin game. He backed out of the section and turned to the Missing
Persons adverts.

‘MISSING – HARRY WHEEL, AGED 10.
LAST SEEN ON MOEBO, 25TH JULY 2411’

Someone’s child. And most likely
kidnapped and trafficked.

‘LOST – MITZY. TWO-YEAR-OLD,
BLACK AND WHITE, SHORT HAIR’

Someone’s pet cat. A few others in
the list were also searching for pets, apparently.

‘MISSING – URSULA LEXX, AGED 23.
LAST SEEN IN THE EYANANTH SYSTEM. SIGNIFICANT REWARD’

Chris accessed the full detail of
the listing, partly out of curiosity to see if there was a photograph
of the missing woman. There wasn’t. The detail of the listing
itself was also very short, only describing Lexx in brief, and
stating that she worked as a xenobiologist.

Done with the board, Chris was
turning to leave, when his eye caught one of the ‘Help Offered’
adverts.

‘PRACTICAL SOLUTIONS TO EVERYDAY
ISSUES. COMPETITIVE PRICES TO SUIT A VARIETY OF SITUATIONS AND FIX A
WIDE RANGE OF PROBLEMS. SECURE YOUR FUTURE WITH US, WITH EASE’.

Chris requested further information,
but found that the summary provided little but contact details. He
recognised them, though. These were the credentials of a local
mercenary group. The Resistance had made use of mercenary services in
the past, to help get certain aspects of their movement started.

At that moment, the spark of
inspiration hit him. All Chris had to do was wait for Sid to return.
He settled down in a seat by a large window overlooking the planet
below, pulling together all the threads of his plot in his head.

~

“How
did it go?” Chris asked as Sid took a seat next to him.

“Okay,” Sid said. It didn’t
sound like it. His tone would have been more enthusiastic and upbeat
if it had.

“Did you manage to get anything?”

“I got some money.” Sid
shrugged. “Just not a lot.”

“Fair enough. How much?”

“A few hundred. Four hundred and
seventy two, to be exact. I didn’t manage to create any new
accounts, though. I had to rig up some access to existing customer
ones ...”

“Sid ...” Chris started,
appalled.

“I know, I know,” Sid said,
clearly troubled by what he had done. “I tried to stick to the
Robin Hood mentality, but most of the accounts I found weren’t as
well off as I would have liked. I took a little bit from each of
them, before I closed everything down. I didn’t want to stay on the
banks’ networks for too long, in case they detected me.”

“Did you try to unfreeze my
account?” Chris asked.

“First thing I tried. Both of
ours,” Sid said. “But I failed twice, so decided to let it go. I
didn’t want to leave a trail for the drones to follow and get to
us.”

Chris nodded in understanding. This
was far trickier than he had hoped it would be. Still, at least they
had
some
money. That was better than none at all. It was also
just enough for what he had in mind. With what money they had left
from various other things, Chris figured they had maybe a little over
five hundred credits to their name.

“I always said that I would use my
skills for good,” Sid started babbling. “I never stole from
anyone, or ripped people off. I was the sort that would always tell
people if they had undercharged me, or if I thought I could offer
them more value for money for my own services.”

“Sid, don’t worry about it,”
Chris said.

“But I can’t help it,” Sid
said. “I don’t want to turn into that which I despise.”

“We’ll make sure they get it all
back,” Chris said. “And we’ll bring them more, too. Anyway,
there’s been a change of plan – we’re not going to Hail
anymore.”

“Chris, our tickets are
non-refundable!” Sid cried. “If we don’t take the liner to Hail
we’ll be stuck here.”

“No, we won’t,” Chris said,
rising from his seat.

“So what are we doing?” Sid
asked, starting up after him.

“We’re going to the Alpaca
Group.”

“The asteroid family? But what ...
No! Chris, we can’t go there! It’s full of mercenaries! They’ll
see straight through our disguises and turn us in.”

“Shh!” Chris urged him. “Keep
your voice down. Yes, it’s where the mercenaries all hang out. I
want to get them involved and do some work for us.”

“Chris, we barely have five
hundred credits to our names. There is nothing they will do for us
for that sort of money.”

“Leave that to me,” Chris said.

“And how are we going to even get
there? It’s not as if they schedule regular flights to the Alpaca
Group.”

“Easy,” Chris said, making his
way over to the electronic bulletin board. “We just need to post an
advert here and wait.” He did so, typing out his requirement, while
intentionally withholding some of the details. There was little doubt
in his mind that the Corporation monitored systems such as this. A
request to journey to the Alpaca Group could only mean conducting
business with the residents. Chris just had to be sure that he worded
his advert in such a way that WEAPCO wouldn’t flag the requesters
as possible Resistance escapees. He offered four hundred as payment,
knowing that anyone who answered the advert would request more.

Hours passed. Chris saw the liner
that he and Sid were originally scheduled to be on depart the station
and make the intra-system hop to Hail. The departure lounge filled
and emptied as people came and went. Eventually, Chris checked the
bulletin board and saw that someone had responded to his ad. A man
was willing to take both him and Sid to the Alpaca Group, but might
want to negotiate on the offer price. Should they agree, Chris and
Sid were to meet him in docking port E.

~

Chris
had expected their contact to be, as he had told Sid, somewhat
‘dodgy-looking’. He had anticipated a man profusely tattooed,
quite likely also covered in scars, and maybe even missing an eye. He
would be thin, his voice possessing a coarse tone and attitude, and
he would look as though he spent far too much time in a bar or in the
sun. He would also be very cantankerous.

The man that greeted Chris and Sid
as they arrived in the docking port couldn’t have been more
different. Neither thin nor fat, he was more like an ordinary man
fighting to hold off middle age spread. He was well dressed,
clean-shaven, and, upon setting eyes on his two new potential
customers, smiling.

“Jim Barnet?” Chris asked.

“Ah,” Jim said, coming forward
and shaking their hands. “Nice to meet you. Are you all ready to
go?” he asked, looking about and behind Chris and Sid to see if
they had brought luggage other than the small case Chris held.

“All set,” Chris confirmed,
having been given the nod from Sid.

“This your ship?” Sid asked.

It was a medium-sized vessel. Far
larger than the shuttle that had ferried Chris and Sid from the
surface, but considerably smaller than the liner that would have
transported them to Hail. This was more like a private aircraft in
size. It likely wasn’t all that cosy on the inside.

“This is the
Sauvignon Blanc
,”
Jim said proudly, slapping his hand on the hull of the white ship.
“Had her for over nine years, and she’s never done me a day
wrong.”

Chris nodded. “So, you fully
understand our requirements and what all the risks are?”

“Sure,” Jim continued to smile.

“And you’re comfortable with
transporting us over to the Alpaca Group and attempting to gain entry
to a mercenary base?”

“No problems.” Jim waved a hand
dismissively. “I was just heading over there, anyway.”

“You were?” Sid frowned.

“Oh, yes. They sometimes hire me
as a separate contractor, to perform little tasks for them. We’re
not best friends or anything, and we’re hardly likely to invite one
another out for a beer, but they know and trust me. It’s a
relationship that works.” He shrugged.

“Fine,” Chris said, starting
forward as Jim operated a control to open a hatch in the side of the
ship.

“Oh, about the price ...” Jim
began.

“Four hundred is all we have.”

“You and I both know that’s as
false as those two beards you’re wearing,” Jim said with a grin.

Startled, Chris and Sid backed off.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,”
Jim said, displaying his palms. “Whoever you really are is no
concern of mine. All I’ll say is that those disguises might be good
enough to fool the drones and some of the less observant out in the
station, but not old Jim.”

Chris glanced to Sid. “Fine. But
five hundred is literally all we really have. That’s the last of
it. Our tickets to Hail are non-refundable, so are only worth the
card they’re printed on.” He waved them at Jim.

“Oh, I’m not looking to
overcharge you,” Jim told them. “I was going to say that if you
can’t get into the asteroid, I’d only charge you a hundred for
the return journey. Saving of three hundred!” He grinned and
chuckled.

“Sounds fair to me,” Sid said to
Chris’ unspoken question. “Not like we have much of a choice at
this point, either.”

“Fine,” Chris said.

“On a more serious note, there’s
been an increase in scrapping between the Immortal League and the
other mercenaries around the Alpaca Group, so if things turn nasty
I’ll be getting out of there. The fee will need to be paid
regardless, since I can’t put my head on the block for two
strangers. You guys cool with that?”

“No problem,” Chris said. “We
understand.”

“Then let us not delay any
further. Gentlemen,” Jim waved the two aboard, “your chariot
awaits ...”

~

Though
equipped with a jump drive, it still took the
Sauvignon Blanc
well
over twenty-four hours to make the journey from the space station to
the Alpaca Group, Jim happily taking his time getting them there. The
group was massive, made up of well over two hundred thousand rocks
differing greatly in shape and size. Many were only tens of metres
across, while others were several kilometres in diameter.

Jim slowed the
Blanc
as they
drew closer to the group, telling his passengers that this was where
the computer guidance systems would largely take over. Negotiating
the group was not something that he usually attempted himself, not
after the first time when he had narrowly avoided ripping a hole in
the side of his ship. Soon, they were drawing close to one of the
largest of the bodies.

“There you go,” Jim said,
pointing to a specific part of the rock face.