Fringe Runner (Fringe Series Book 1) (16 page)

Liberty Run

Heid

Heid had plenty of time to think on her trip back to the
Arcadia
. The
Ocelot
was an old hauler, made for transport and not for speed. By the time she reached her warship, she was antsy for action.

She docked to find Laciam waiting for her outside the decon room.

She gave him a wry grin. “Laciam. I’m half-surprised you didn’t try to take over the
Arcadia
while I was away.”

“I should have. When Sebin said you left the ship with orders to cut all engines while you took a joyride in some fringe junker, I knew you had crossed the line.”

Heid’s brow rose. “It’s not your place to understand my decisions, just as it’s not your place to question my orders. Plus, the
Arcadia
isn’t yours yet. Until we reach the fleet, you will address me as Commandant or Sir. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes,
sir.
”

“Refuel and restock the
Ocelot
and escort her crew back to their ship. They’re free to go.”

“Yes,
sir
.”

As he strode away, she heard him mutter, “Alluvian bitch. You just wait.”

She tapped a simple command on her comm—
Liberty 0747
—and sent it to select crewmembers serving on the
Arcadia.

As a commandant, Heid had the authority to select her own crewmembers, and she’d spent all her years aboard the
Arcadia
placing Alluvians loyal to her throughout the ship. By now, they comprised nearly two-thirds of her crew, with the remaining positions were filled by Myrads, conscripted fringe, and Alluvians of whose loyalty she was unsure.

She had thirty minutes, which she used to make rounds through the hallways, making sure to be seen by her crew. Sebin met her outside the bridge.

She glanced down at her comm to see the time. One minute to go.

He nodded, and she gave a simple nod in return. Words weren’t necessary, as this exercise had been planned long ago. Adrenaline rushed through her as she stepped onto the bridge.

Laciam glanced up but didn’t acknowledge her.

“Nolin,” Heid called out to her navigator. “Set a course for Terra.”

Laciam jumped to his feet. “You can’t do that!”

“Watch your tone, First Officer,” she warned.

He glared. “This madness has gone too far. You’ve spaced out. I’m declaring you unfit for duty. Something I should’ve done as soon as the corps general’s orders came in. Guards, arrest the commandant.”

Heid made eye contact with the two guards stationed on the bridge. They moved to Laciam and grabbed him instead.

She faced Laciam. “Guards, escort the first officer to the brig.”

“What?” he cried out, his blue face darkening a hue. “You can’t arrest me. This is my ship!”

“If he gives you trouble, kill him,” she added, hoping he’d do exactly that, which would leave one fewer loose end for her to clean up.

Unfortunately, he stood still as her dromadiers disarmed the officer and led him away.

Laciam called out as the guards shoved him off the bridge, “You’ll be shot for this, Heid!”

When the door closed, she turned to the five remaining crewmembers on the bridge. Four were loyal, one—a fringe tech assistant—was an unknown. Rather than speaking to her directly, she broadcast to the entire ship. “Crew of the
Arcadia
. We have journeyed across the Collective together, and I ask you now to take another journey with me. The CUF has been usurped by a man who dreams of an empire. The CUF no longer serves the best interests of the Collective, and the entire Collective—not just Alluvia and Myr—need our help.

“The blight was the first slash at disharmony, though our leaders failed us all long before the tragic loss of Sol Base. Then came Ice Port, an innocent victim purely to be used as a scapegoat for Myr’s imperialism. In truth, the terrorists are much closer to the heart of the Collective than the colony farthest in the fringe.” She paused. “The blight and the discord and violence that have followed come from Corps General Ausyar, who has militarized Myr’s government. He envisions a Myr Collective, just as the CUF is now under his control.”

She scanned the faces on the bridge before continuing. “I refuse to let the Collective fall. As of now, I relinquish my CUF rank as commandant. I am taking the
Arcadia
as the flagship for the future. I will lead the Collective into a battle—not as a commandant or as a citizen—but as a captain in a Collective made of equals. If you choose to follow me, you will be marked down as mutineers, but history will mark you down as heroes. I will not—I cannot—command you to follow me on this new journey. If you follow me, I promise you danger and risk, but I also promise you that you will be saving lives across the six Collective worlds by choosing to fight for the Collective rather than for Ausyar’s empire.

“I give you the choice. Anyone who does not wish to remain on the
Arcadia
to fight for the new Collective must let Sebin Reinhardt know within the next hour. Those not joining the cause for the Collective will be confined to quarters for the protection of the crew, and in two days, we will drop them off at Rebus Station on Terra where they can be picked up by a CUF patrol. Effective immediately, all communications leaving this ship will be blocked. Your one hour begins now. Choose wisely.”

Heid lowered her head and focused on breathing in and out.

“Sir?”

She looked up to find the conscript standing before her. “Yes, Sylvian?”

“Did you mean it?” she asked. “That you plan to fight for the fringe?”

Heid nodded. “I fight for the idea of an equal Collective, and it’s the fringe that most needs our help right now.”

The young woman stood taller. “I’m from Sol Base. I lost everyone I know to the blight. You can count on me, sir.”

Heid smiled, finding validation for her plans in the young woman’s words. “Thank you, Sylvian.” She paused. “Oh, and you do not need to address me with any formal title. As of now, I have no association with the Collective Unified Forces.”

“You’re still our captain regardless of the insignia you wear,” Sebin said with pride in his voice.

“Aye, Captain,” said Nolin the navigator, followed by assent from the remaining bridge crew.

“Thank you.” She clapped her hands together. “Put us into stealth mode, and let’s get to work decoupling the
Arcadia
’s systems from fleet control. We now fly under our own flag.”

Hypoxic Hijackings

Throttle glared at Reyne, her arms crossed. “Like hell you’re leaving me behind.”

Reyne set down his beer. “I need someone to stay with the
Gryphon
. We need Boden for landing on Alluvia, and Doc in case someone gets hurt, and Sixx—”

“Because he can walk,” she interrupted.

“No,” Reyne said calmly. “I was going to say because he was a professional thief, and we’re breaking into someone’s house.”

Critch butted in. “Listen, Throttle. The truth hurts, but we’ll be on the planet surface and without a ship. What is a cripple going to do in a place where there are no cripples? Everyone will be looking at you, and we’ll be forced to scrub the mission.”

She’d slowly rolled over to where Critch sat as he was speaking. When he finished, she punched him. “You’re a bastard.”

“He is a bastard,” Reyne said but noticed that the pirate didn’t raise a hand to strike her back. “But, he’s right in that this is a mission that will be taking place on the ground. If it was taking place in the air, you’d be the first on my team.”

Critch rubbed his cheek. “Nice right hook.” He finished off his beer, kicked off from his chair, grabbed her hand, and slapped a key onto her palm. “I bet Reyne doesn’t pay worth a shit, so stay in my guest quarters. Any food and necessities can go onto my account. No one will mess with you at Nova Colony. Have fun, but don’t get carried away.”

“This is bullshit,” she muttered, staring at the key. She glared at Critch. “And you’re still a bastard.”

“I know.”

Reyne forced a smile and squeezed her shoulder. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I know it’s not fair, but we’ll be back before you know it.” He paused. “You watch yourself around here.”

She glanced up. Where Reyne expected to see tears, he saw anger instead. “You’re lucky I don’t punch you, too.”

“And I’d deserve it.”

She lifted her chin. “I don’t like it, but I get why you’re leaving me behind. You can’t always treat me like a little girl.”

He swallowed. “I know.” He kissed her forehead, turned in a rush, and walked out of the Uneven Bar before he said something stupid, like make a promise he couldn’t keep.

He fastened his helmet and stepped into the airlock that separated the docks from Nova Colony. Critch joined him, and they stood in silence as the chamber depressurized. As soon as the door opened, Reyne grabbed a zip line and flew down to the docks. He refused to look at the
Gryphon
and headed straight to the
Honorless.
He didn’t slow his momentum until he reached its port door, not stopping until he hit the inner door. Critch followed and shut the door behind them. Pressurization took no more than a couple seconds, and Reyne tugged off his helmet and stepped inside. He started down the hallway to meet his crew.

Critch kept pace alongside Reyne. “I know why you’re leaving her behind.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re leaving her behind because you don’t think you’re coming back, and you want her to live. For what it’s worth, I would’ve done the same thing. She’s young. She deserves to have a few more years.” They walked in silence for a while. “If you don’t make it, I’ll fix her legs.”

Reyne stopped. “Why?”

The pirate shrugged. “She’s an innocent.” He kept walking. “Plus, she’d make a solid addition to one of my crews.”

“Like hell,” Reyne said and caught up. “Besides, what makes you think you’ll get out of this alive?”

Critch grunted. “I’m too pretty to die.”

“Too ornery is more like it,” Reyne muttered and entered the commons. The room was large and comfortable and had luxuries that put the
Gryphon
’s central meeting room to shame. The rest of the team was already waiting for them—Sixx, Doc, and Boden from Reyne’s crew and three from Critch’s crew, while the remainder of the
Honorless’
crew was busy preparing for launch. Reyne recognized the trio. Demes, of course. Chutt, the craggy pirate whom Doc had slept with. Birk, one of the quieter—and better behaved—men on Critch’s crew.

Critch leaned onto the table and looked across the faces in the room. “We’re heading out in ten minutes. I’ll make this quick. It could take days or it could take weeks to find a ship we can use, which means we’ll have plenty of time to work out the details of the plan. For now, make yourselves comfortable. Once we clear the Coast, you’ll all be given jobs to do.”

A male voice came over the speakers. “
Strap in for takeoff.”

The pirate captain smacked his hands together. “Let’s get ourselves a Myrad ship.”

*

Eight days later.

“Crew alert. We’re tracking a potential bogey.”

Sixx groaned. “That’s what they said the last three times.”

Reyne nodded and left Sixx to continue cleaning the weapons. He headed to the bridge, hoping this would be the time. Critch was in charge of getting them a ship, and Reyne had to trust the pirate’s judgment.

The first ship they came across was a brand new passenger ship. Too many people to deal with. The second, a Myrad patrol ship. Far too dangerous to hijack. The third was
almost
right. It was an older hauler, but Demes had been unsuccessful in hacking through its surprisingly secure firewall.

When Reyne reached the bridge, Demes looked pleased.

“This is it. I know it,” the young pirate said. “It’s an old Eagle II. No firewalls. I’ll be tapped into her in no time.”

Critch scowled. “Eagles are heavy and slow. Made of more carbon fiber than rilon. It’s going to make for a long trip.”

“Aw, sounds like we’ll get plenty of quality time together,” Reyne said.

“Hm.” Critch glanced back to see Reyne approach before turning his attention back to Demes. “Can you hack her?”

“Hold on…just one more…got it. I’m in. I’ve got her systems. Looking for the air filtration…there you are. I’m locking them out and adjusting the oxygen levels now. There. Child’s play.” He turned around with a wide grin. “They should be hypoxic in under twelve minutes.”

Reyne cocked his head, impressed at the pirates’ ingenuity. “I’d always assumed you killed the crews of the ships you hijacked.”

“Hypoxia is subtle and far less risky. Very few crews catch on in time to don suits. Those that figure it out are the ones we have to watch out for.” Critch turned back to Demes. “How many?”

“Let’s see,” Demes said. “Looks like eleven crew are logged in.”

Critch grabbed the comm. “To your stations. We’re hunting Eagle.” He clapped the pilot’s shoulder. “Take good care of her, Gabe. I’ll be back for her soon.”

“Like always,” the man said.

Critch gave Reyne a quick nod, and he headed off the bridge and toward the airlock. Reyne kept pace, and Demes followed.

Doc and Chutt emerged from his bunk, both looking a bit flushed and messy. Then again, the pirate always looked messy.

Reyne scowled, and Critch shot Chutt a hard glare, making it clear he wasn’t any happier about the pair’s extracurricular activities during a mission than Reyne was. Reyne understood why Doc was doing it. This mission was stressing her out, and she used sex to as a coping mechanism. However, it was an unwritten rule that no one screwed around—literally—on the job.

When they reached the door to the airlock, Reyne grabbed his suit and started to slide a leg in.

Critch stopped him. “Here, use this instead.” He handed Reyne two tiny oxygen bottles with nose gears. “Suits are too clumsy.”

Reyne fastened his bottle around his collar. He handed the remaining one to Sixx.

“Exactly as we planned,” Reyne said. “Boden, Doc, and Demes hang back until we clear the ship.”

“You and Sixx can also wait until we clear it,” Critch said to Reyne. “My crew has experience at this. You don’t.”

Reyne shook his head. “We can manage.”

“Never thought I’d add ‘hijacking a citizen ship’ to my resume,” Sixx said.

“You might find that you enjoy it,” Critch said.

The
Honorless
attached to the other ship, sending shockwaves through the airlock, and Critch placed a hand on the wall to brace himself. The screeching sound of rilon against rilon sent shivers through Reyne.

Chutt had grabbed Doc when she nearly fell. “They didn’t take evasive maneuvers. A good sign,” he said.

Time dripped by as Birk managed the airlock controls, maneuvering the airlock outward from the side of the ship and lining it up against the porthole. Reyne gripped his photon gun, ready for action. When the light finally flicked green, Birk opened the airlock and placed an electronic unit on the Myrad ship’s port. After several seconds of blinking red and yellow lights, it flashed green.

Critch looked across everyone before pulling up his oxygen tank breather tube. Reyne quickly followed his lead. Critch opened the door and jumped inside. Birk and Chutt followed him, and Reyne and Sixx covered the rear. Reyne took a deep breath before crossing over to the other ship.

Once inside, they ran first to the bridge, and Reyne knew that would be to ensure no one got any bright ideas and tried to pull away while the
Honorless
was still attached. The pirates moved with efficiency, reminding Reyne of fighting alongside Critch in the Uprising, and he realized that a pirate’s life wasn’t much different from a soldier’s life.

Reyne’s pace slowed as he finally understood why Critch had become a pirate. Being a pirate was the only way Critch could keep fighting the Collective without an Uprising.

Reyne moved when Sixx nudged him, and he jogged to the bridge, his arthritic knees causing him to wince. They needn’t have hurried. The eight crewmembers on the bridge were in various slumped positions. Chutt, Birk, and Critch were pulling them from their seats and laying them out in a row on the floor. Most were unresponsive, and a couple were still conscious but out of it. Birk slapped a sleeping patch onto each crewmember’s neck.

Reyne and Sixx chipped in and helped lay out the crew. As they laid them out, they counted three Myrads, all with the telltale blue skin of those who’d lived on the silver-rich planet. The remaining were tenured, obvious by the large, electronic ID cuffs that covered a third of their forearms. The cuffs were a shiny silver, to make their status clear from a distance. They also would have implants in case they could break the bracelets and run. Those who attempted and were caught were punished—often by having their voice boxes fried.

The tenured colonists who signed up to work for citizens on Myr and Alluvia in return for their children’s citizenship often learned too late that citizenship rules had many obscure loopholes. Most children—even those born on Myr or Alluvia—never became citizens. The practice to tenure humans made Reyne sick, and it had been just one of the many reasons he’d so zealously fought for the Uprising.

“Eight down. Three to go,” Critch said. “Chutt and Sixx, move these eight to the airlock
.
Birk, check the bunks. Reyne and I will check the rest of the ship.”

Reyne stayed at Critch’s side, covering their left and back as they moved down the hallway. This ship was a far cry from the
Honorless
or the
Gryphon.
Whereas those ships were kept pristinely clean and organized, this ship hadn’t aged well. Rubber marks marred the dented floors, and dust grew thick in corners. Boxes of food sat, unsecured, against the walls.

They bypassed the bunks to find a single crewmember in the commons area. A Myrad, puffy from sweet soy addiction, lay sprawled onto the table. Critch checked the man’s pulse. “Dead.” He tapped his comm. “One located in the commons.”

“By the looks of him, he had Myrad medicine to thank for keeping him alive,” Reyne said.

Critch nodded. “The bastard would’ve died years ago if he were fringe.” He pulled the man back, and the body crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Located two incapacitated blokes in their bunks,”
Birk reported.

“That should be all of them. Birk, run a final sweep of the ship,” Critch commanded.

“Wilco
” came Birk’s easy response.

Critch picked up the half-full glass of wine that had been sitting on the table.

“How often do you find stowaways?” Reyne asked.

“Hardly ever. The ones we do are generally hiding from the crew and more than happy to make our acquaintance.” He sniffed the contents of the glass, shrugged, and took a drink.

“Blue-skins and tenured have been cleared from the bridge,”
Chutt reported.

“Received,” Critch replied before downing the rest of the wine.

Reyne walked around the table and began to check out the cabinets. Roughly half the cabinets were unlocked and contained the same rations that Reyne stocked on the
Gryphon
. They were cheap but covered all the basic nutrients.

“Here.”

Reyne turned to see Critch ruffling through the dead man’s pockets. He pulled out an ID card and tossed it. Reyne caught it and swiped it over one of the locked cabinets. It opened, revealing contents of meats, cheeses, breads, wines, and chocolate.