The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation Read online

  “Sent to the mines. It’s where everyone gets sent if they break the rules.”

  Kym shared a look with Podo, then over at Sneaker and waved him off. The drone backed up, but kept its stunners trained on Godfrey. “If you’re telling the truth, then perhaps we can help each other out.”

  Godfrey looked like he was not ready to hear what she had to say next, but asked the question anyway. “What do you propose?”

  “If our friends are indeed in the mines, then we’re going to have to get them out. If your people are working to liberate the mines, then we have a common agenda. Take us to your leaders so we can talk. They have our drone. We have some of the skills you’ll need to make this little rebellion of yours work. I’m pretty sure we can work out an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial.”

  Godfrey scratched at a spot behind his ear as he thought it over. “Rhasti’s going to kill me,” he said, mostly to himself, then louder as he met Kym’s gaze, “All right. I’ll take you to talk to them, but I can’t promise they’ll go along with this.”

  Kym smiled, looking around at her companions. “As you can see, we can be pretty convincing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Despite the cool temperature in the mine tunnels, Jesse was soaked with sweat. He had been put to work clearing a collapsed tunnel using cutting lasers that chopped the debris into smaller, manageable chunks. The lasers, while not particularly heavy, were still large and unwieldy, requiring a range of motion that he was unused to. It was not long before his muscles were aching from the exertions.

  Nearby, Raychel was working at clearing away the smaller chunks that Jesse had blasted, loading them into a rail car for disposal. No fewer than four guards kept watch over them at any given time.

  One of the guards, a stocky, pudge-faced human, had taken particular interest in keeping an eye on Raychel. He stood closer than the rest of them, paying almost no attention to Jesse. He kicked at a pile of rubble close to where she was working; the detritus barely missing striking her in the face. To her credit, Raychel failed to react, causing the guard to repeat the act with a malicious chuckle.

  Jesse, keeping an eye on the girl the whole time, lowered his drill and took a step in Raychel’s direction.

  The guard was quick, despite his bulk, drawing a sidearm in one fluid motion. “Better stand down, friend. It’s not like you can’t be replaced.” He stepped up, getting in Jesse’s face. Jesse almost winced at his rancid breath. “We’ve got new workers coming in all the time. I won’t even get talked to if I decided to dust you off.”

  Undeterred by the threat, Jesse squared up to the thug, meeting the other’s glare and holding the contact for a long moment. The guard maintained his air of cockiness, but Jesse could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Jesse held the look a moment before giving the slightest hint of a grin. The guard’s face dropped.

  Jesse turned away, counting the seconds before the assault came. He got to five before feeling the punch to his kidneys. Having anticipated the attack, he was able to move with it, lessening the force of the impact, but it still sent a wave of fire through his back. Staggering, he next felt a kick to the back of one knee and collapsed forward, hitting the ground hard, missing by inches a pile of rock that would have cracked his skull.

  “You got off easy that time,” the guard said, standing over him. “Test me again and I promise you’ll fail.” To the other guards he said, “Come on. Let’s go get something to drink. They ain’t going nowhere now.” With a chorus of laughter, the group of them moved off.

  Raychel was at Jesse’s side the moment they were clear, helping him to roll onto his back. To her surprise, Jesse had a wide grin on his face, though it was contorted with pain. She gave him an odd look. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those weirdos who gets off on pain.”

  “Not at all,” Jesse wheezed as he struggled to sit up. “Just a little test to gauge the demeanor of the guards and I guessed right. Overconfident bully types. All brawn and little brain. This will be easy.”

  “What will?”

  “Getting out of here,” Jesse smiled. “Just need to get word to the rest of my crew somehow. I promise you, two days, tops, and we’ll be out of here, if not sooner.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” she said, helping him up. Already they could hear the guards coming back. Jesse picked up his drill and began working away just as the guards came back around the corner. Raychel got back to work as well, making sure to get the smaller piles of debris first, to discourage her tormentor from kicking any more rubble her way.

  She threw a cursory glance at Jesse. He gave her a quick wink, and mouthed two days and made it look like he was intent upon his work. She hoped to hell that he knew what he was doing.

  ***

  Kym had to laugh at the security procedures of Godfrey’s so-called resistance movement. With little security measures outside the lone maintenance shed, they were able to quickly infiltrate the building, and with Godfrey’s assistance in clearing them through any security-coded sections, made their way through the underground tunnels. The only guard they encountered had been half-asleep at his post and quickly laid down his weapon the moment Morogo smiled down on him with his mouth full of needle teeth.

  As they approached the command center, Kym could hear all kinds of commotion. It was obvious that their entrance had not gone completely unnoticed. She directed Podo into a side tunnel Godfrey had indicated, and the Warwick took off at a trot.

  “We’ve got intruders inbound,” someone called out. “Everybody gear up! This could get nasty!”

  This covert stuff is so not my area of expertise, she thought. Still, taking a deep breath, she steeled herself, raised her laser pistol and stepped from the shadows of the corridor into the control room. “I assure you,” she called loudly, “it doesn’t have to be.”

  Everyone in the room froze and turned at the sound of her voice. Reaching back with her free hand, she grabbed Godfrey by the wrist and pulled him forward to stand, looking decidedly sheepish, at her side.

  The two in the center of the room, whom Kym took to be the leaders, stood. One of them, a tall dark-haired Harkonian woman, almost lazily drew and leveled her sidearm at them. “Very ballsy,” she said. “But charging in here all by your lonesome is tantamount to suicide, Sweetie.”

  “Who said she’s alone?” Podo’s voice came from a doorway across the other side of the room. The Warwick stood just within the doorframe, a pistol in each stubby paw, one pointed at the Harkonian woman. Sneaker floated in just behind and above him, stun lasers extended and sweeping the room, encouraging the others to stay where they were.

  Everyone in the room looked to the tall Mandasi at the woman’s side. Kym assumed that this was the one named Rhasti that Godfrey had spoken of. Keeping his hands in front of him and away from his weapon, he smiled. “Impressive,” he said. “You got Godfrey to let you in, but how’d you get past the guard posted in the corridor?”

  There was the sound of scuffling from behind them, and Morogo stepped into the room, one hand holding the guard by the scruff of his neck. The other hand was draped over the top of the man’s head, claws extended just above his eyes. Morogo held him for another few seconds, so that everyone in the room got the message. Then the Vor’na’cik set the man down with surprising gentleness, releasing both his neck and his head. The man stood trembling and sweating for a long moment before finally finding his voice “Sorry, Boss,” he managed to croak.

  The one named Rhasti sighed. “It’s okay, Metcalf.” He put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. She took it as a cue and put her weapon back in its holster, but remained standing, even as Rhasti waved the rest of the control room crew to resume their seats. They sat, but none resumed their tasks, watching and waiting for what would happen next.

  “If you guys are going to lead a revolution, you really ought to think about better training for your security details,” Kym said, holstering her weapon, and folding her arms across
her chest.

  “Well, we can’t all be professional killers like you,” Rhasti replied. “We were wondering when Boke would find us out.”

  Kym glared at him. “We’re not killers, and we most certainly do not work for Arigh Boke.”

  To emphasize her statement, she gave the Warwick a quick nod, and he put his guns away as well. Morogo took a step back, away from his former captive, and leaned casually against the doorframe. Sneaker, as usual, kept his weapons trained.

  “She’s lying,” The woman spat, shooting a look over her shoulder at Rhasti without ever really taking her eyes off the intruders. Her hand hovered over her sidearm, but she made no further move.

  “No, Mynx,” Rhasti said, lowering his hands and stepping around the control board. Every one of his people was watching him intently. “If Boke had sent them, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation right now. We’d probably all be dead. And you know Boke would have sent his head goon to do the job.”

  Kym smiled, glad that he was in charge and not the woman. “Very perceptive.”

  “I’m going to take a leap here and assume that the drone we swiped last night belongs to you?”

  “Again, very perceptive. The next time you want to steal from a crew of bounty hunters, you might want to make a better show of covering your tracks.”

  “I was right,” Mynx said, her hand drawing ever closer to her gun. Rhasti reached over and purposely took a tight grip of her wrist. She jerked it away with a glare, rested it on her hip instead. “Bounty hunters or hired killers. What’s the difference?”

  “Actually, I’m just the ship’s engineer,” Kym admitted, gesturing to her companions. “These two do the killing—mostly.”

  Mynx glared at her, but Kym saw Rhasti suppress a smile. Recovering, he said, “So if we give up the drone, then what?”

  “We still have some business with you. Godfrey told us what you’re trying to do here and why you did what you did. We’ve got a beef with Arigh Boke as well. Maybe we can work out an arrangement?”

  Kym watched as Rhasti studied the trio, looking from one to the other. A quick glance at Godfrey, who still looked embarrassed, but earnest, told him that the customs agent believed what she was saying. “Mynx” Rhasti called over his shoulder, “Tell Vixta to grab the drone and meet us all in the briefing room.”

  Mynx’s jaw dropped a fraction. “You’re not telling me—”

  “Yes,” he replied, and his tone left no room for argument. “I am.”

  The look Mynx shot him could have bored through his skull, and she huffed like a Kleezha in labor, but she stomped off to follow his orders.

  Rhasti turned back to Kym with his best disarming smile. “It’s time for us to parlay. Follow me.”

  ***

  They came for him during a work break, seven guards in all. Moving swiftly, they pushed their way through the milling prisoners, five of them forming a circle around Jesse to ensure no one interfered while the two largest stunned and dragged him off down a corridor. Through the haze in his mind, Jesse thought he heard K’Tran protesting, then the sound of another stunner before everything went black.

  He awoke shortly after, to the frigid shock of cold water being splashed in his face. Shaking his head to clear his vision from the stun-induced blurriness and water dripping into his eyes, he tried to survey his surroundings. He was in a room, an office perhaps, and not one of the rock-hewn corridors. The lighting was better in here and he had to blink against the unaccustomed brightness. His hands were bound behind his back and he was tethered to a ring-bolt mounted in the wall behind him.

  The two guards that had grabbed him were still in attendance, standing on either side of a doorway opposite of his position. One was human-looking, the other Jesse recognized as the Volkov he had spoken to at the White Star when Raychel had been apprehended. He forced a smile. “If you guys wanted me to come to a party, all you had to do was ask.”

  Glacial stares were the only response he got. “Come on, you guys. Just trying to make casual conversation.” He directed his gaze at the human. “So…where you from?”

  Silence, so he turned to the stone-faced Volkov. “You, Rocky… I know you can speak. Any thoughts? Anecdotes? Limericks?”

  The Volkov stared at the wall behind him, but Jesse thought he saw a twinge of annoyance in its beady red eyes. “What’s the matter? Am I getting’ to ya?”

  The door hissed open, the two guards snapping to attention, and all sense of mirth left Jesse’s demeanor. Aw, hell—

  Arvane Scarab strode into the room, halting just inches from where Jesse stood. Can smell the nastiness coming off of this guy. “Nice of you to join us,” Jesse quipped. “Your two friends here aren’t much for casual conversation.”

  Scarab’s response was a quick, hard thrust of the fist to Jesse’s mid-section. The breath exploded from his lungs and he saw dark spots forming in his vision, and his knees went weak beneath him, but he somehow managed to keep to his feet. Sucking in air in short, rapid gasps, Jesse stared up at his assailant. “Wanted to thank you for the lovely accommodations here,” he wheezed. “The menu leaves something to be desired, though. It has a color you don’t often find in food, I’ll grant you that—”

  Stars shot through his vision as a fist cracked across his jaw. He went down on his knees, hard. The pain that shot through his legs overrode the pain in his chin. “Pick him up,” he heard Scarab say to the two guards.

  Hurrying to his side, each man hefted him under one arm, holding him up on shaky feet. Jesse met Scarab’s gaze. “What? We gonna dance now?”

  He was stunned into silence as Scarab laid into him again, and again. Jesse tasted blood, felt it dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Only the two guards holding him kept him from hitting the floor. He heard the Volkov give a grunt of satisfaction.

  After an eternity, the assault ended. The guards let him drop to the floor. Scarab squatted before him, grabbing him by the chin and staring hard into his eyes. “You’re a smartass Forster, just like your old man. I only regret that I couldn’t have given him what I’m giving you.”

  Jesse struggled to find enough breath to speak. “I—don’t think he would have minded missing out on this.”

  A slight crinkling of the skin around Scarab’s eyes, not so much a smile as an indication that he found actual amusement in Jesse’s statement. “Don’t worry. You’ll get enough for the both of you. You can tell him all about it when I’m done with you.”

  He stood, gesturing with a thumb over one shoulder. The guards hoisted Jesse to his feet once more, unchained him, and started to drag him from the room. “Back to work for you, friend,” the human finally spoke.

  “No,” Scarab called after him. “The infirmary. Have his wounds tended to. Then put him back in the general population. He has earned a break from his labors. I want him to gain some strength before we speak again. And bring me Pasker next.”

  Gathering enough strength, Jesse lifted his head and turned it just enough to catch Scarab’s attention. “When I get my strength back, I’m gonna put you down like my father should have.”

  Scarab stared at him coldly. “You can’t make me laugh, Forster, so don’t try.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “We’ve been trying for months to get the word out to the rest of the Confederation,—or anyone else that will listen for that matter— about what’s been going on here,” Rhasti said as he lead Kym, Podo, and Morogo to a large storage room that served as a makeshift conference area. “Every transmission we’ve tried sending out directly, or piggybacked onto other messages seems to somehow get intercepted. We’ve even sent out couriers, but none ever make it back or get word to us that they’ve been successful. Somehow Boke seems to get to them before they can speak with anyone.”

  They took seats around a rickety table strewn with paper charts, data pads, memory chips, several out-dated computer consoles, and empty food and drink containers. Morogo chose to stand behind his two friends, looking
decidedly intimidating. Mynx stood on the opposite side of the table, trying to stare him down.

  “Most everyone in this organization has some grudge against Boke, but mostly it’s because we’ve got someone we care for in those damn mines,” Rhasti continued. “The slightest infraction of Boke’s rules and it’s off to gulag. That is, of course, unless you’ve got funds enough to buy your way out of it.”

  “What about Boke’s competitors in the corporate world?” Podo asked. “I’m sure there’s more than a few that would love to see him go down in flames and would be willing to help out.”

  “Again, that’s where our couriers come in. If any have gotten through, those they’ve contacted aren’t biting, or might think it’s some kind of deception on Boke’s part.” Rhasti sighed, his lanky frame seemed to shrink a bit in defeat. “As it stands, we are effectively on our own.”

  At that moment, a familiar mechanical shuffling sound came from the corridor as Bokschh appeared in the doorway, followed by a Raakshasi female. Podo and Kym rushed to the drone’s side.

  “Hello my friends,” Bokschh said. “I apologize for not notifying you of my absence, but I was quite incapacitated for awhile.”

  Kym popped a service plate on the drone’s chest and took a quick look over his diagnostic circuits. Bokschh answered the question, before she asked it. “I assure you that there has been no modification of any of my systems. In fact, aside from my initial forced deactivation,” the drone gave the group around them, Mynx in particular, a decidedly pointed look. “I have been well treated. I also believe that their agenda is sincere.”

  “You’re the most gracious kidnapping victim I’ve ever met,” Kym replied, continuing to look through his circuits despite the drone’s protestations. After another moment, she nodded, satisfied, and looked at Podo. “He seems okay.”

  Podo breathed a sigh, then gave a slight jump, moving quickly to one side as the Raakshasi almost bowled him over to get past him. She stopped just inches shy of Morogo, who bristled at the intrusion of his personal space, expecting a challenge.