Fringe Runner (Fringe Series Book 1) (17 page)

“A Myrad would never stoop to eating fringe swill,” Critch said.

Reyne found himself grinning as he grabbed a chocolate bar and cut open the plastic. He waved it in the general direction of the dead man. “Thanks, buddy.” He took a bite and savored it. This was the second time in his life he’d had chocolate. The first time was when he was five and Vym had tossed him a bar after he smuggled a message from her to a local storekeeper.

“All clear. No more tangos,”
Birk reported in.

“Good.”

“You know, if you ever get tired of Birk, I could use him on my crew,” Reyne said before taking another bite.

“You can’t afford him.”

“How much do you pay him?”

“More than you make running.”

Reyne shrugged. “Maybe. But, being a runner is a whole lot safer than being a pirate.”

“From what I hear, running hasn’t worked out that great for you lately.”

“Not lately.”

Critch looked away from Reyne and scowled down at the body. “Why do I always find the fat ones?” he muttered.

Reyne sighed as gingerly rewrapped the chocolate bar and slid it into his pocket, and wiped his hands on his pants. “I’ll take the head; you take the feet.”

“No complaint there.”

Reyne walked over and slid his hands under the man’s damp armpits. He grimaced before lifting the body with a grunt. They carried the body to the airlock and moved it onto the
Honorless,
where Doc, Boden, and Demes waited.

Doc, who’d been bent over one of the other crewmembers, moved to check the newcomer. She frowned. “He’s dead.”

Critch ignored her. “Demes, clean up the air for us.” He motioned to everyone. “The ship’s been cleared. You can board as soon as the air improves.”

One of Critch’s crew who was staying on the
Honorless
nodded toward the incapacitated crew. “You want these guys handled in the usual fashion?”

“Yes. Drift the Myrads. Move the tenured into the hold,” Critch replied. “When they wake, give them the same option we give all tenured.”

Doc gasped. “You can’t murder those citizens. They’re helpless, innocent.”

Critch spun on her. “Those so-called
innocents
were operating with a crew of slaves. They’ve made their entire livelihoods off the backs and blood of the fringe. If you want to save them, you can join them in the abyss.”

As he spoke, she took steps back, cowering.

Reyne straightened. “He’s right, Doc. If they live, they endanger the mission. Our lives are at stake here.”

Doc stammered but wisely kept her mouth shut.

Critch shot a surprised look at Reyne but said nothing.

Reyne wanted to stick up for Doc, but the truth was, he sided with the pirate on this one. These Myrads were essentially using slaves. If there hadn’t been any tenured on this ship, then maybe he would have considered imprisoning the Myrads. What would he have done with them then? Drop them off at a fringe station so they could run to a CUF patrol and stop any chance Reyne and Critch’s combined crew had of reaching Myr unnoticed?

Reyne continued. “Everyone, grab your gear and load up. We’ve spent enough time lollygagging already.”

Everyone quickly dispersed, leaving Critch and Reyne alone with ten sleeping men and one dead man.

“Lollygagging?”

Reyne smiled.

“I never would’ve taken you for someone to kill unarmed men,” he said after a moment.

Reyne sobered. “You never knew me very well.” He grabbed his gear and walked away.

Phantom Tricks

Critch was right. The Eagle was a slow piece of shit that took over two weeks to cover the same distance the
Gryphon
could’ve covered in five days at jump speed. Within the first two days, the crews had sorted through all the shipments, finding only fabric and useless electronic parts. The tenured bunks had nothing to offer except trinkets, most of which were hidden under mattresses. The Myrad bunks had luxuries—silver, jewelry and fancy clothes—but nothing of any value to Reyne.

Two captains sharing one ship led to constantly butting heads, which did not make things any easier. Reyne tried to share decisions, but it was hard. He’d been in charge for much of his adult life. Critch was even worse—he didn’t even try to share command. They finally settled into fifteen-hour shifts, running into each other only at shift change briefings and planning meetings.

Myrad food and wine helped pass the hours, but Reyne worried that the CUF would strike another fringe station while they made their slow way to Myr. They had the Collective news on constantly. Myr hadn’t released the blight again, but Ausyar had been busy. The news replayed footage of the CUF taking down fringe “terrorists” and foiling obviously staged bioterrorist attempts. Genics Corp continued to promise that they were working around the clock to create a fungicide.

If their plan was to make everyone fearful and clamor for Myr’s help, it was working flawlessly. Every Collective world pledged credits to Genics Corp. Myr had managed to milk people’s pocketbooks while pulling on their heartstrings at the same time.

Midway through Reyne’s shift on the sixteenth day, Birk pinged him.
“We’re within three hours of the space barrier.”

“On my way.” He left Boden in the engine room where they’d been running down one of the thousands of gremlins the ship seemed to have.

On the bridge, Reyne found Birk at the controls. “Are we close enough to see radar?” Reyne asked as he took a seat.

The lean pirate sighed. “Not with the outdated software on this beast. I have no idea if we’ll see something in five minutes or if it’ll be two hours.”

Reyne frowned. “We’re already cutting it close if we have to change plans. They likely have us located on their systems already.” He inhaled. “Let’s hope an old Myrad hauler won’t raise any red flags.” Reyne put his hand on Birk’s shoulder. “Ping me as soon as you can see where the CUF patrols are along the barrier.”

“Wilco,” Birk replied without looking up from his panel.

Reyne headed back to his quarters and went through his gear. He strapped on his holster and sheaths and checked his weapons. After he was all set, he took a seat and closed his eyes. In three hours, they would either be through Myr’s EMP space barrier and landing on the planet’s surface, or the barrier’s electromagnetic pulse would fry the ship’s systems and life support, making them sitting ducks to be blown up by CUF patrols—or left to die in their cold Myrad coffin. He wasn’t sure which option offered the worse prospects.

When he returned to the bridge, he reviewed the mission schematics that Heid had sent them. He tried not to think about what could go wrong. Instead, he focused on what needed done when they landed on Myr’s surface.

At two hours to go, Reyne was ready to bang his head against the panel. The ship’s blasted computers still hadn’t picked up any traffic, let alone the massive space barrier. It wasn’t until ninety-six minutes out that Birk finally picked up hints of the space barrier.

Reyne headed to the commons to grab them some food. On his way back, he pounded on the door to Critch’s quarters. “Rise and shine. Ninety minutes out.”

He smiled at the string of profanity that was shouted from the other side of the door.

Critch arrived on the bridge roughly ten minutes later, wearing full gear. “What do we have?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

“We’re a little over seventy-five minutes out,” Reyne said. “We haven’t picked up any CUF patrols yet.”

Critch grimaced. “This damn ship belongs in a junkyard. If we were on my ship, we’d be close enough to pick up the hair on their asses by now.”

Reyne ate as they waited. Critch disappeared briefly and returned with a meal of his own.

Fifteen minutes later, Birk still hadn’t found any signs of CUF ships.

Critch wiped his hands and pushed off the wall to take over Birk’s seat as pilot. “Go get ready. I’ll take it from here.”

As Critch strapped in, Reyne remembered meeting him for the first time. He’d still gone by his real name—Drake Fender—at that time, a talented young pilot ready to take on the universe. Reyne had seen his potential and took him under his wing. The Uprising was a year in, and they discovered hell together. They were brothers-in-arms…until Critch emerged from the Uprising with the belief that Reyne had betrayed everything they’d fought for.

Shaking off the old memories, Reyne broadcast to the ship, “Attention crew. We have one hour until we reach the barrier. Gear up and grab some grub. It might be some time before you eat or sleep once we pass through. Then, get yourselves to your stations. If we get scanned, I don’t want them seeing heat signatures of the entire crew all hanging out on the bridge. Everything about us has to look run-of-the-mill.”

“I’m picking up something,” Critch said finally, frowning.

“What do you have?” Reyne asked.

“Not sure yet.” After a long moment, he leaned back. “
Fuck
.”

Reyne rushed over to see what the other man was looking at. He frowned. “That can’t be.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but I double-checked. The data’s right.”

Reyne stared at the view screen, expecting to see everything that was on their radar, even though they were still too far out for the feeble view screen to zoom in on. “It’s too late to run. They probably locked onto us hours ago.”

“I don’t know why they haven’t hailed us.”

“You think they’re onto us?” Reyne asked.

“Don’t know.”

A chime alerted them to a new notification. Critch checked it first. “Ah, here comes an automated code request from the space barrier.”

Reyne inhaled.

“Let’s find out if we’re going to live beyond the next sixty seconds,” Critch said as he fed the ship’s authentication codes to the space barrier’s system.

The tension throughout the bridge was stifling, and Reyne found his joints complaining.

After a long delay, Critch blew out a breath. “It accepted the code. We’re approved to pass through the barrier.”

Reyne, too, let out the breath he’d been holding and pointed at the view screen. “The bigger question is, will they let us pass?”

Faint dots appeared and slowly grew to form ships. Not CUF patrol ships, but huge warships. From the looks of things, the entire CUF fleet was out there waiting for them.

Divide and Conquer

“Why would they be out here?” Critch asked. “The fleet base of operations is in between Myr and Alluvia. They’re on the wrong side of Myr.”

“Heid said Ausyar was making changes to the fleet,” Reyne said. “My guess is this is all his doing.”

“You think he moved the fleet farther from Alluvia to make it easier to control?”

Reyne shook his head. “Don’t know, but I do know they wouldn’t send the entire fleet for a single crew of torrents. They have to be out here for some other reason.”

“Let’s hope that reason doesn’t involve shooting us and fucking up our plans.”

Reyne turned to Critch. “Don’t slow down, and don’t veer off course. We want them to think we’re just passing through on a regular run.”

“You want to fly?” Critch snapped back.

“Yeah, I do,” Reyne answered.

Critch hesitated. “Well, you can’t.”

Reyne eyed the pirate long and hard before forcing himself to relax. On the
Gryphon
, he’d have access to systems to see everything Critch was seeing. The Eagle, on the other hand, was an obsolete craft. It had few redundancies, including a single panel for piloting and navigating. It made Reyne feel downright helpless.

“Aw, hell,” Critch muttered. “We’re being hailed.”

“Myrad Eagle II hauler Four-Six-Seven-Four-Five, this is the Collective Unified Forces destroyer
Vigor
. You are cleared to pass through to Myr. Adjust course to heading seven-eight-four-point-five-point-three-two. This is to have you maintain a safe distance of at least one hundred clicks from the fleet.”

Critch paused for a short moment before sending a response. “
Vigor
, this is Myr-Four-Six-Seven-Four-Five. Message received. Adjusting course to maintain a safe distance. Thank you, and have a nice day.”

A response came speedily back.
“Have a good day, and safe travels Myr-Four-Five.”

Reyne chuckled. “Even their old junkers get treated better than colonists.”

“Assuming they’re not drawing us into a trap,” Critch said. “This feels eerily similar to how I nabbed an Alluvian cruiser a few months back.”

Reyne frowned. “I wish Demes could be plugged into their systems right about now to see what they’re thinking.”

“Agreed.” Critch rubbed his hands. “Well, we’re a Myrad hauler, and we’re going to cruise right past the entire CUF fleet and through that space barrier as if we’ve done it a hundred times before.”

Reyne cocked his head. “I never took you for an optimist.”

“All pirates are optimists; otherwise, they’d never leave the docks.”

“I thought you were all opportunists.”

Critch shrugged. “No difference.”

Silence fell on the bridge. Reyne broadcast nothing to the crew in case the CUF was picking up their radios. He knew the crew was nervous, and he considered making rounds to update them, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand. Not when the view screen was filled with several dozen warships, frigates, destroyers, gunships, and patrols.

As they approached the fleet, Reyne and Critch shot harried glances at each other. They were easily within shooting range and could be blown into the abyss without a single chance for counter maneuvers. Not that they could make any kind of stand in this ship, as it were.

The ships sat in loose groupings. The warships sat together, with the frigates and destroyers separated. Gunships sat closer to the barrier. Patrol ships, work ships, and mish-mash of smaller ships sat as outliers.

A patrol ship sped toward them, and Reyne leaned forward, gripping his seat.

The spacecraft whizzed past as it angled toward a warship.

Reyne slumped. “Damn, cocky fliers. Reminds me of how you used to fly.”

Critch’s lip curled up at the corner.

Neither man spoke again until they passed the fleet and entered the space barrier.

The barrier wasn’t actually a barrier. It was simply a matrix of EMP buoys in Myr’s orbit. It was a fail-safe protective blanket since only CUF ships had protection against EMP fields. Though, as far as Reyne knew, only warships, destroyers, and frigates had the level of protection needed from the high-intensity blasts the buoys emitted.

No one without access codes was landing on Myr.

Flashing lights on the EMP buoys twinkled their locations. “Those things are eerie.”

“Yes, they are,” Critch said, and Reyne realized he’d voiced his thoughts aloud.

“We’re almost through,” Critch continued.

After they cleared the barrier, Reyne closed his eyes and breathed. “You won’t hear me complaining that we’re through that.”

Critch cracked his neck. “Not a bad-looking planet. Too bad it’s full of citizens.”

With the fleet and barrier behind them, Reyne was able to appreciate Myr’s beauty. The planet was the first colonized world after Mars and Europa, and he could see why. With a wealth of both land and water, it was a picturesque, temperate world, reminding of pictures he’d seen of Earth.

Reyne broadcast to the crew, “Heads up. We’re clear of the space barrier. Prepare for landing.”

Unlike the colonies, Myr had twelve space docks located around the planet. Critch hailed the Smithton docks. They directed him through landing protocols, which he handled as though he were a Myrad captain.

Myr had a thick atmosphere, thicker than all the other planets, and the descent lasted longer and was more turbulent than Reyne expected. Even still, Critch brought the junker down with finesse.

The space docks they landed at put any fringe station’s docks to shame. These docks, built out of silver alloy, were easily ten times the size of Ice Port’s docks, and they seemed fifty times as busy. They climbed from the surface like a glistening rainbow and took up much of the island they occupied. Critch settled the ship down gently onto her base despite her size and clumsy controls.

“Not bad,” Reyne said. “Although, I’m sure Throttle would still give you some pointers.”

Critch grunted. “If she’s anything like you, I’m not surprised.”

“Everyone to the commons for final checks,” Reyne announced.

By the time Critch had locked the ship down, Doc had finished staining Birk’s face with blue dye. He looked as though he’d gone for a swim in blueberry wine—a perfect match to the hue of Myrad skin. Doc then stepped up to Reyne and wiped the stained cloth over his face.

Finished, Doc stepped back to admire her work. “It took me endless hours—and my fingers may be forever stained blue—but it was worth it. You and Birk look perfect.”

Boden gave a nod. “You’re both too tall, but otherwise you could actually pass as Myrads.”

Reyne chuckled drily. “That’s something I’ve never had an interest in being.”

“Ditto,” Birk added.

Reyne grabbed the long coat he’d found in one of the Myrad’s quarters, and slipped it on, covering his armament.

Critch was leading the other team, but with his scars, he’d never be able to pass off being a Myrad. And so Birk had his face stained and wore a coat like the one Reyne wore, playing the part of a Myrad on Critch’s crew. Since Myrads were often outnumbered a dozen to one by tenured, everyone else wore rattier tenured jackets.

Critch slapped his hands together. “Okay, the Genics Corp snatch starts now.” He glanced at his watch. “The courtesy time limit to dock without filing paperwork is five hours, which means we need to be wheels-up before sunrise. If any of you aren’t back by then, you’ll be considered dead or a permanent Myrad fixture. Got it?”

“Okay. Boden and Doc,” Reyne began. “Under no circumstances will you leave this ship. If you get asked by a dock patrol, make excuses if you have to.”

“I still prefer to come with you,” Boden grumbled.

“Can’t risk it,” Reyne said. “You’re our ticket to Alluvia. You’re staying on this junker where it’s safe.”

Doc didn’t say anything, and Reyne knew she’d always been more comfortable staying out of harm’s way.

“That’s not permission to sit on your asses,” Critch said. “This ship better be ready to power up within seconds of us getting back on board. It won’t take long for them to figure out something is up once we make the snatch.”

“The ship will be ready,” Boden said quickly.

Reyne grabbed Boden’s forearm. “See you soon.”

Boden nodded and grabbed Reyne’s arm in return. “The sooner the better.”

“Hurry back,” Doc said, her words hard yet containing an underlying softness.

Reyne smiled. “I plan on it.”

Critch patted Demes’ shoulder. “Watch your back out there.”

Critch stood for a moment and—surprisingly—grabbed Reyne’s forearm. “Take care of my tech.”

Reyne nodded and clasped the pirate’s arm. “You have my word. I’ll look out for him.”

Critch stepped back. “Let’s do this. Chutt, Birk, let’s see what Genics Corp has to offer.”

Reyne turned to Demes and Sixx. “Ready to tour a Myrad mansion?”