Beyond the Shadows (10 page)

“Azra.”

“Pah!” The man coughed out a hard guffaw. “All the way to Azra on this ship?”

“What? How badly is it damaged?” Yara’s stomach began to sink.

Polarx’s face twisted in a contemplative scowl as he pointed through the curling steam to one of the modules on the back of the ship. “The coils are shot on the converter. At least three days, and that’s only if Maxen works through the nights. You’ll probably be here a week. Ah! Would you like me to show you around?”

“A week?” She had suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed gave her a sick feeling. She looked around the busy docks. Large men hauled stacks of shipping containers on angrav lifts, shuffling through the dusty lanes like alien beasts of burden. Several ships rested in the large open area, while crumbling towers of stone gave way to a reaching skyline of patchwork metal buildings born from the cannibalized remains of old starships. “I can’t wait a week.”

Polarx rubbed his scraggly gray beard. “There’s a Bacarilen ship in port. They do much business on Azra. I think they are heading that way.”

“Bacarilen?” Yara felt the glimmer of hope spring in her chest. The Bacarilen took care of most of the shipping of foreign goods on Azra. Similar to the female-dominant culture of Azra, the Bacarilen were something familiar, something she trusted.

The old dock owner nodded. “Captain Brill is in port. Ah! She just unloaded several tons of refined morac ore from Azra and should be heading back with some light refiners from the Pasomlen.”

Yara searched her memory. Brill, the name was familiar. Eventually she connected a face with it. She knew Brill. The woman was a fierce negotiator. Yara had been tasked with evaluating a standing contract with her four years ago before taking her position as commander for the Union. The Bacarilen captain was tough, a masterful trader.

“Where is the Bacarilen ship?” she asked. She couldn’t believe her luck. This was her way out. She wouldn’t have to face Cyrus again. She had a feeling he would try to stall her, just so he could play some more.

“Not here in my dock. No.” The old man scratched his balding head, adding another smudge of grease to his already dirty face. “The Blackstock. It’s on the other side of the forum past the mineral markets. Keep going that way.” He gave a vague wave over his head. “You’ll see them.”

“Thank you.” Yara ran back to the airlock and flew up the ladder into the ship. She grabbed her belongings off the bed and turned to leave.

Halting near the bed, she brushed a hand over the blanket, smoothing out a wrinkle.

She had to go.

After hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she trotted back to the hatch.

Bug zipped up and stopped right in front of her face. He made a low grinding noise.

“I’m sorry, Bug. Say good-bye to Cyrus for me. I left an EDI disc with his payment on it in the control center.” She tried to step forward, but the bot went ballistic, pinging around the room letting out furious screeches and whistles.

Yara ignored it, even as it tried to shock her when she tossed her belongings through the airlock. She wasn’t going to let a bot the size of her palm stop her from getting on that ship.

After climbing out of the ship, she jogged out of the docks toward the crowded streets beyond. Tuz leapt to her shoulder and balanced his weight as he sniffed the air and growled.

Yara caught a glimpse of the bot zipping over the gateway to the docks. She had to get out of there before Cyrus returned.

Cyrus
.

She had to stop thinking about him. He was only attractive because he was so foreign, and she was half out of her mind with lag. Looking up, she wandered past a crowd of men shouting prices for bales of plant fiber to a trader clinging to a rusted vent pole as he pointed confirmations of orders to the other men.

Women here were in the severe minority. While the occasional female crewmate of the pirates or traders hung out of tavern windows or carried on business, the only females that seemed a part of the ragtag jumble of interbreeding foreign tech were the prostitutes waving from the only clean-looking building in the port.

Gansai was a man’s world. Money, sex, liquor. Men’s vices. She shuddered. Thank the Matriarchs the men on Azra weren’t so uncivilized. The women of Azra had tamed them.

Yara wove through the crowds until she passed the great stacks of containers for the mineral traders. To the back and left, she could see docks just beyond a long narrow street.

A creepy feeling slithered up her back and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

It was too still.

She walked forward but kept her sono ready as she held her head high.

Someone watched her,
assessing
.

She prepared herself for attack even as Tuz jumped down to the ground, his fur rising on his back. The smell of fouled water and rats caught in her nose as she passed a dark alley. This was the sort of place where pirates did quiet deals, deals best made in the shadows.

Did Cyrus frequent this place? Where else would he get projectile weapons?

She was right to leave.

Quickening her pace, she reached the gates to the far docks. A Bacarilen transport ship squatted on the far platform, while a crew of red-haired women worked to load the last of several shipping containers into the belly of the massive cargo bay.

Thank Isa
. She wasn’t too late.

Yara jogged to the ship and caught sight of the captain reviewing a holo image from a com.

“Captain Brill?” Yara nodded in greeting to the other woman, who looked up from her com in surprise. “I’m Commander Yara. I’m seeking passage back to Azra.”

Any hint at emotion faded from the captain’s well-tanned face as she pinched her lips tight. “I remember you.”

Good. They had gone several rounds over that contract, but the captain had bent in the end. Yara stood straighter. She wasn’t here to make friends. This was business, something she knew Brill understood. She was here to book passage. “When do you launch?”

The captain looked up over Yara’s shoulder and squinted. Yara glanced back. A cloaked pirate stood in the shadows with his arms crossed. The creeping feeling slid back down her neck. The sooner she got out of there, the better.

“In two hours. Passage will cost you forty-eight.” The captain clicked off her com and lifted her sharp chin. “That’s nonnegotiable.”

Tuz pressed up against Yara’s shins, nearly forcing her to step backward. He growled at the man in the shadows. “Done.”

“I should welcome you aboard, Commander.” The captain waved a nonchalant hand to a hard-looking woman with a long nose and square face. “Take the commander up to my lounge.”

“Captain, the launch codes are integrated and cargo—” the crewmate began.

The captain held up her hand. “Later. I have one more deal to negotiate. Take care of our guest.”

Yara walked alongside the crewmate, down the ornately decorated corridors of the ship. She remembered the way to the captain’s lounge from the last time she’d been on board. Brill had preferred to negotiate in familiar territory. Bacarilen traders lived exclusively on their ships. Yara hadn’t given in to intimidation and had talked the captain down quite a bit from her initial contract. At the time it was quite a victory. Now it felt good to be away from the docks and the ill feeling in her gut.

Yara sank into a plush red seat that smelled like gin smoke and waited for the captain to return. Within hours, she’d be back on Azra and able to cut off Palar’s coup at the knees.

Brill returned sooner than Yara expected. She strode into the room with an arrogant swagger and lit a sharp-smelling cigar. Without saying a word, the captain poured herself some white-lace sugar rumma, and steeped some Azralen ciera tea for Yara. The elixir Cyrus had given her was still making her extremely thirsty. Yara was glad for the drink. It smelled stale, but she was too thirsty to care. She took a long draught and placed it on the table between them.

The captain smiled.

Yara didn’t like the predatory expression on the other woman’s face.

“You know, the contract you negotiated cost me quite a bit over the last couple of years,” she admitted.

What did she expect? Yara had done her job and had looked out for Azra’s trade interests. Her arms felt heavy.

“It was a tough negotiation. I look forward to another round when the contract is up.” Yara blinked. It was probably exhaustion. Tuz sniffed at her drink and hissed. The lights on his collar activated.

“Another round?” Brill chuckled. “I think I prefer to negotiate with Palar. She’s been very generous and promised me much more profitable contracts as soon as she ascends the throne of Azra.” The captain smirked as she stepped forward. Yara tried to stand but stumbled.

Palar? By Fima the Merciless, Brill was supporting her rival. This wasn’t exhaustion.
Shakt.

“Did you enjoy your drink?” Brill asked. “It should make your trip to Krona more comfortable.”

“Tuz, run.” Yara fell while her scout growled. “Run!” she shouted, before her strength completely gave out.

Tuz hissed. Yara watched as he streaked out of the lounge.

“Get that cat!” The words sounded distorted to her drugged senses as the room blurred then turned black.

CYN EASED THE CONVERTER ONTO THE BED OF A GROUND-RUNNER USING THE awkward controls of the angrav lift while Maxen gathered the tools he needed from his loft. Cyn winced as the nearly spherical polyhedron surrounded by a geometric web of dull and very heavy dark carbon slid too close to the edge of the bed of the truck. Pulling it back up, he tried again. The last thing he needed to do was bust the new converter.

“You sure you know how to use that thing?” Maxen called from a loft perched above the large hangar. Tools and parts clanged against the steel floor as the mechanic rummaged around in his stash.

Cyn ignored him and concentrated, bringing the converter down square on the bed. The antique wheeled transport groaned under the weight as it shifted and settled. Cyn doubted the old runner would still roll under the load.

“Strap it down tight,” Maxen called from the balcony of the loft. He slung an enormous bag filled with heavy tools effortlessly over his back and climbed down the creaking ladder.

Sunlight broke through the overcast sky, hitting the skylights in the roof of the hangar. Light swelled in the empty space in spite of the yellowed crystal panes and the years of dust and industrial grime.

Cyn hurried to secure the converter. He had to get outside while the sun was shining. He secured the final link with a twist of his wrist then trotted to the open doors of the hangar.

Bully, Maxen’s enormous guard dog, lifted his boxy head to acknowledge Cyn, then flopped back down in a patch of sunlight. Cyn closed his eyes and lifted his face to the warmth. He rolled up his sleeves and held out his hands but didn’t feel like enough of his skin was exposed.

How had he ever survived the shadows?

He had to help the others still trapped there.

“Hey, I thought you were in a hurry,” Maxen called as he dumped the bag in the back of the runner, making the old cargo truck sink deeper on its wheels.

“I am. Let’s get going.” Cyn turned to join Maxen at the runner, when a flash of green caught his eye.

Crap.

Bug flew toward him, his green aura streaking like a comet tail. He whistled in alarm.

“What happened?” Cyn nearly shouted the question as he held his palm out. Bug landed on it, barely able to perch on his wobbling legs. He wheezed a short series of low whistles.

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Cyn dropped his hand, and Bug fell several feet before catching himself and resuming his hover.

Cyn wrenched the door of the runner open and flung himself inside. “We’ve got to go. Now,” he insisted.

Maxen eased into the driver’s seat. “Lady trouble?”

“Shut up. Just drive.” Cyn scowled as Maxen placed his metal palm against the drive panel and triggered the ignition.

“You asked for it.”

Cyn had to brace himself against the door as the runner leapt forward, plowing over the uneven road and turning wildly through the narrow lanes of the city.

Cyn clenched his teeth as his hands dug into the console in front of him. A man with a crate of fowl leapt out of the way while Maxen drove with mechanical indifference to his speed, or to the chaos around him.

Maxen directed the truck by the computer system integrated in his brain through the linking ports in his palm. The truck became a seamless extension of his bio-mech parts, and Maxen drove it like a madman.

The old truck roared and jumped, leaping out of the way of obstacles and dodging around the terrified men in the streets without once touching anyone or nicking anything.

“What did you do to this thing?” Cyn forced out while clinging to the monster runner.

“I fixed it,” Maxen declared, spinning the back wheels of the truck so the back end of the runner swung out in a wild arc, enabling them to turn down another alley.

Cyn ducked as they punched through a closed gate, then jerked to a stop by the north gates of the docks.

Dust rose in a cloud around them as Cyn’s heart pounded.

“We’re here.” Maxen smiled.

Cyn would have decked the man, but the bastard couldn’t feel it. Instead he eased out of the old runner and let the heavy door swing back before stalking forward in an attempt to get his legs back under him.

Polarx waddled up from the control array at the center of the docks. “You’re back so soon! Going to get to work on that converter, ah. What a mess. It’s a good thing your passenger found new transport.”

Cyn had hoped Bug made some sort of mistake, but deep down he knew that was unlikely.
Shit
.