Hunter (21 page)

"Good," Nova
said, sliding out from under Crusader's engine.

Cal soldered
the last of the metal in place and then the two of them walked back
inside and the door shut behind them. Nova sauntered to the command
pod and looked over the ship's readouts. They were all normal. She
breathed a sigh of relief and slumped down into the command
chair.

"Let's get
back to The Jagged Maw," Nova said. "And put Tanguin on the
line."

Crusader's
engines roared to life and the front screen flicked on to reveal
Tanguin.

"Hey," Nova
said.

"Hey,"
Tanguin replied. "You look like crap."

"Gee thanks,"
Nova said, wiping a hand down her face. "I haven't slept in a
while. It was a big night."

"Can we
assume the lecheon problem on Boullion Five has been fixed?"
Tanguin said.

"Yep, let's
just say I sent them packing," Nova chuckled.

"Hilarious.
So you're going to make it back in time for the race?"

"Heading over
now. Meet you there?"

"You
bet."

Tanguin's
face disappeared and Nova pressed the ignition buttons on
Crusader's dashboard, turning the ship over to manual control. Many
newer ships wouldn't allow manual, people were too likely to make
mistakes. But Nova liked to be in control sometimes. It had taken a
lot of time but eventually she had managed to modify Crusader's
circuits so that she could quite literally 'take the
wheel'.

"Engines
engage," Nova said. Crusader's engines burst into life and the ship
began to vibrate.

"Take off in
three, two, one."

Crusader
lifted from Boullion Five and shot into the air. It blasted through
the atmosphere and into the space beyond. The lift-off was
flawless, barely the tiniest shudder as they left the
atmosphere.

Nova flicked
the ship into automatic and rested back in her chair. She watched
the panorama of space fly by as they got faster.

"You know
where we're going?" Nova asked.

"Coordinates
set," confirmed Crusader.

"Okay, time
for me to check on the racer one last time."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Nova's heart pounded so hard in her chest that
she was sure it was going to come flying out of her mouth at any
moment. Her stomach clenched tight and she had goose-bumps running
up and down her body.

She sat in
her space-racer with a helmet and air-suit on. In the unlikely
event that she did crash and her ship lost its integrity, she was
not going to die by vacuum. That was assuming she survived the
impact and subsequent explosion. She looked over the dials again.
They were all green, everything was fine.

Out of her
window to her right was Kero. He was driving a shining silver
space-racer, the latest model. His shield was still down and he
stood on the seat waving to the crowds gathered around the starting
line.

A group of
girls swarmed around, fawning over him and his shiny space-racer,
including Vicki. After Kero, she was Nova's most hated person in
The Jagged Maw. She seemed to spend every second batting her
eyelids and flaunting her body to get what she wanted, or sending
spiteful remarks towards Nova and Tanguin. The fact that she'd been
allowed into The Jagged Maw at all made Nova's stomach churn. She
had thought they had higher standards than that.

Nova shook
her head. Kero had more money than sense, and Vicki was twice as
bad.

Spread out
around Nova and Kero were the other racers. There were a few others
from The Jagged Maw and the rest were from other bounty hunter
organizations. There were quite a few bounty hunter factions spread
across the galaxies, but everyone knew there were only three that
really mattered.

The Gunner's
Guild was considered the 'upper-crust' of the bounty hunter world.
They were the rich hunters who had either got lucky or who had
entered the business already rich. They drove the latest ships, had
the latest techs, and took only the cleanest jobs, which were
usually government contracts for the Confederacy. Nova often
thought that both Kero and Vicki should have applied to the
Gunner's rather than subjecting the members of The Jagged Maw to
their personalities.

The Happy
Hunters was another group entirely. They were the 'soft-hunters',
mostly retired or not brave enough for the real work. Their
specialties were snitching and info-mining. It was common knowledge
that if you didn't want people to know something, don't tell the
Happy Hunters. It always amazed Nova that the Happy Hunters had so
many members. She couldn't imagine doing that kind of work; she'd
almost rather subject herself to the snootiness of the Gunner's.
But obviously information paid, because the Happy Hunters were the
richest guild after the Gunner's. Their ships were just as good and
their technology even better.

The rest of
the bounty hunter groups were too small to warrant any real
attention. Some of them were family owned businesses that went back
generations, but never extended beyond the same gene pool. Others
were privately funded; more like mercenary gangs than real bounty
hunter collectives.

The Jagged
Maw was something else. It was one of the newest hunter guilds,
without the centuries of rich history. Their numbers weren't
anywhere near as big as the Gunner's Guild or the Happy Hunters.
They didn't have near as much money either; but there was a certain
prestige which came from belonging to The Jagged Maw. It was a
self-perpetuating selectivity. As soon as hunters were told they
couldn't come in, they did everything they could to get
there.

The Jagged
Maw was run by Tim and Tom. They had been lone bounty hunters in
their youth and didn't really fit into any of the guilds, so they
had started their own. In a stroke of genius they'd made the entry
process extremely selective. Unlike the Gunner's Guild where
selection was based on wealth, The Jagged Maw's selection was based
on talent and pure courage. This resulted in The Jagged Maw having
some of the best bounty hunters in the business, including Nova,
despite being one of the smaller and poorer-paid guilds,

The annual
bounty hunter space-race was one of the only occasions where all
the bounty hunter guilds got together, but it wasn't a friendly
sport. Every year there was at least one death, usually more, and
old grudges were brought flaming to the surface.

This year it
was being held near a particularly unpredictable man-made asteroid
field outside of the Steel System. As well as the asteroids, the
course included a very small moon which was in a shaky orbit around
a nearby planet. There was a lot of speculation that if a ship went
too close to it, the moon would fall out of orbit and probably
collide with them.

The starting
line was held within a large dome which usually served as the
Gunner's Guild training arena. Every year they generously donated
it for the race. Nova had to shake her head. The way the Gunner's
waved their money around, it was a wonder they didn't get robbed
blind.

The dome was
packed with onlookers. Somewhere in the stadium would be Tanguin
and Cal, ready to cheer her on. A very small party compared to some
of the competitors who had entire sections of the stadium reserved
in their name.

The dome was
protected from the vacuum of space by a very precise force-field
which held the air in but which would let the ships pass through
when they got to it. Stray rock fragments floated in from outside
and slammed to the metal floor with the sudden gravity, making
nearby people jump.

As always,
there were some spectators floating in space-suits around the
course or in ships. In Nova's opinion they had some kind of death
wish, because the space-racers never stayed within the boundaries
of the course; not with all the foul play and unlicensed weaponry.
It was completely normal for spectators to die, but that didn't
seem to stop them coming out in droves to stand in harm's
way.

Nova hoped
one of the spectators didn't get in her way; she certainly wouldn't
brake for them. They knew the risks. She couldn't despise them too
much; as dangerous as their positions were, it wasn't half as bad
as actually competing in the race.

"Ladies and
gentlemen, welcome to the one hundred and fifty-third bounty hunter
space-race," the commentator's voice boomed around the stadium. The
crowd erupted into cheers.

"Racers, if
you can take your seats and get ready, it won't be long
now."

Only then did
Kero sit down in his ship and let the shield slide closed over him.
Nova snorted as Vicki blew a kiss through the window. He was going
to need a bit of luck, that was for sure.

The other
racers were still prepping their engines and checking fuel levels.
Nova had already done both a hundred times, but she did it again
just to be sure; pre-race sabotage was almost
guaranteed.

"It looks
like we've got a spectacular race lined up for us today. I'm
Cambran and I'm excited to be your host for today," the commentator
announced. Cambran, or rather the robot that had been programmed to
commentate, had the crowd in a frenzy.

"We've got a
few favourites on the field today. I'll run over the odds, so don't
forget to have your betting sheets ready."

Ah yes, Nova
thought, the other major aspect of the race: the betting. Millions
of credits would change hands over this race. Deals would already
have been made with some of the drivers; no doubt they'd experience
engine trouble early on.

"We have our
favourite for three years running, Demolition Dean."

The crowd
went crazy. The roar was so loud that Nova could hear it even with
the sound block turned on in her space-racer. Demolition Dean was
from the Gunner's Guild and he had won the space-race two years
running. If he won again this year he'd enter the hall of fame.
There was no way Nova could let that happen. She'd had the
misfortune of speaking to him once and she certainly wouldn't want
to do it again. Rude and pigheaded was putting it
mildly.

"Second
favourite, and paying two to one is Speedy FX," Cambran
continued.

Speedy FX was
a young woman also from the Gunner's Guild with the latest in
space-racing technology. There was a rumour that she had upgraded
herself for faster reflexes, a neurological surgery which was
illegal in almost all of the human colonies because it was so
risky.

Cambran went
down his list calling out the name of each competitor and the odds
currently on their winning. As he went further down the list and
reached the unknowns and the nobodies the cheers died
out.

Nova was
pleased to hear that she was rated at mid-list with odds of
ten-to-one. That would make her a tidy profit when she crossed the
finish line. She'd placed a hundred credits on herself to
win.

"Start your
engines," Cambran boomed.

All around
Nova, engines roared into life. She pressed the green button next
to the steering stick and her ship rumbled. She felt the engine
vibrating behind her back and clasped her hands around the steering
stick.

Her heart
beat even faster and adrenalin surged through her veins. Aside from
the money, there was something far more important at stake.
Glory.

Her ears
tuned into the sound of her racer. It was running smoothly. There
were no rattles or sputters to alert her of a fault. The lights on
her dashboard were all green.

"Get set,"
Cambran called.

Nova flexed
her hand and gripped the wheel tighter.

"Go!"

Nova shoved
the throttle forward and her ship shot across the dome. She focused
solely on the path in front of her. The cheering crowd who were on
their feet as the racers went past were just an insignificant
blur.

The other
ships were tiny dots in her awareness. Some were in front of her,
the rest trailed behind. A small part of her mind wasn't surprised
to see that the ones in front of her included Dean, FX, and
Kero.

Her ship
blasted its way through the dome and past the force-field, and then
she was out in open space. Red flags dotted the course, spaced
every few hundred metres. Tiny drones were parked at certain
checkpoints to ensure the racers didn't take any illegal shortcuts.
There were many legal shortcuts, but nine times out of ten they
would result in death.

Nova stuck to
the defined course and found herself in tenth position. The first
obstacle was a sharp right-angle turn surrounded by a wall of solid
metal. There was no room for under-steering or misjudged
distance.

Nova watched
the first three racers cruise around the corner. The second one
scraped the side of their ship against the metal but continued on
unscathed. The fourth racer wasn't so lucky.

Whoever they
were, they drove a dark purple ship, not entirely out-dated, but
not the newest model either. As the ship came up to the corner, it
started to turn but it wasn't enough. The craft had only turned
forty-five degrees when it slammed into the metal wall.