Fringe Runner (Fringe Series Book 1) Read online

  The pirate tossed his napkin over his half-full plate. “Ah, so you saw the blight.”

  Reyne rubbed his chin. “I’m still trying to put the pieces together, but they’re not fitting. My guess is Myr had Genics Corp create the blight. They’re the only corporation out there with the brainpower to create something like that, and they’re based on Myr. That part was easy. Hell, their name was even on the crate. What I don’t understand is why this package traveled all the way out to edge of the fringe only to be brought back to its home.”

  “Think about it. Why would Vym have the package brought out to her?”

  Reyne stared at Critch for a long moment. His jaw slackened when the pieces fell into place. “Vym was the target, except the package was intercepted.”

  Critch nodded. “I think Ice Port was the target, not just Vym. You saw the blight. If they hit Ice Port, Playa’s only space dock would be out of commission, essentially taking an entire planet out of the game. Some Myrad number cruncher must’ve decided that Playa’s exports weren’t worth the benefit of eliminating them. It was an easy plan. Release the blight on Ice Port using a good cover story. Every fringe station will be terrified that they’re next. Myr announces they’ve created a fungicide, and every colony would pledge full support to Myr without any bloodshed.”

  Reyne considered Critch’s words. “It’s vicious, but it makes sense. Playa has always brought more hassle than profit to the Collective. Sacrificing Playa would make it easy for Myr to take control of the other fringe stations.”

  Reyne frowned and shook his head. “But the CUF grabbed the package. I can’t believe the CUF would attack a Myrad location. That seems low, even for them.”

  “We don’t believe it was the CUF.”

  “Then who was it?”

  “There’s obviously another player in the game.”

  “Alluvia?”

  Critch shrugged. “Makes the most sense.”

  Reyne leaned back. “So, the package was intercepted not once but twice? That makes it a game of hot potato.”

  “Near as I can tell, yes.” The pirate came to his feet.

  “Done eating already?”

  “Lost my appetite.”

  Reyne sighed. “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have talk to me sometime.”

  Critch held up a finger. “First, you work for me. You’re not working with me.” He held up two fingers. “Second, a lot of good people died on Terra because of you. I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t feel like it.”

  Reyne rolled his eyes. “You know, maybe one day you’ll believe me that I didn’t betray the cause.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it.” Then, he left.

  After sampling Critch’s leftovers, Reyne returned to his ship with a sinking feeling that he’d gotten himself and his crew into a bigger spider web of danger than he’d ever imagined.

  The Uprising had been pure and simple—a fight for the colonies to gain equal rights in Parliament, citizenship for all. It was a belief he still fervently held despite every blasted colonist in the fringe thinking him a traitor.

  This new Uprising was complicated. Now, it was a bid for survival, with the colonies standing in the middle of the ring, between two heavyweight fighters. Myr and Alluvia were dangerous enough, but there was possibly a fourth contender standing in the corner, and he had a hell of a right hook.

  His comm chimed, and he read the message. Once he climbed back onto the Gryphon and out of his suit, he leaned against a comm on the wall. He took a deep breath and broadcast to the crew. “To your stations. Cargo is on its way. We’re heading out in one hour.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Fallen Worlds

  Throttle huffed. “Quit looking at me,” she said for the third time that hour.

  Demes pouted. “But I like looking at you,” the pirate said for the third time that hour.

  She glanced at Reyne. “Please make him leave.”

  Reyne sighed and glanced back at Critch’s young envoy, who was riding along on their first torrent run.

  “How about you go hang out in your bunk,” Reyne offered. “We’ll ping you when we reach Darios’ orbit.”

  “Nah,” Demes said simply. “I like it here.”

  Throttle glared in response.

  Reyne’s comm beeped. “What is it?”

  “I need you in Mech,” came Boden’s voice.

  “Be right there.” Relieved for the interruption, Reyne stood. Before leaving the bridge, he pointed to Demes. “You, behave.” Then, he pointed to Throttle. “You, don’t kill him.”

  He headed down the hallway, past the crew quarters, commons, and medical bay, and stopped at the cargo bay—where the passengers were staying—to find the door closed and locked. Reyne frowned.

  He’d assigned Sixx to watch over the passengers—a full load of torrent recruiters. It was a job Sixx loathed, and Reyne had noticed that his friend’s nerves had frayed more and more with each passing hour on this run. Reyne turned and headed to Sixx’s quarters. There, he found Sixx on his bed, with a very naked Doc strung across his chest. Just as Reyne suspected, Sixx had taken a break to blow off some steam.

  Reyne didn’t turn away. “I thought you were supposed to be on cargo watch.”

  Sixx cracked an eye open. He gave a dramatic sigh and then nudged Doc none too gently. “Move. Play time’s over, sweets.”

  She swatted him before rolling off. “You don’t have to so bossy.”

  “Funny. You weren’t complaining a few minutes ago,” Sixx said drily.

  She tugged on her clothes and grabbed her boots. As she strolled out of the room, she put extra swing in her hips for the benefit of both men who were obviously enjoying watching her.

  After she left, Sixx turned to Reyne and gave him a look of exasperation as he pulled on his shirt. “They’re driving me nuts. For being torrents, they’re viggin’ high-maintenance. I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I need to use the bathroom. I’m spacesick,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “I needed a break or else I was going to shoot one of them. I locked them in. They’ll be fine.”

  Reyne tried not to chuckle, and he forced his grin down. “It’s generally considered bad manners to lock passengers in the cargo bay.”

  Sixx didn’t seem bothered.

  “I’m surprised they annoy you so much,” Reyne said. “Especially since half of them are voiceless.”

  The other man shook his head. “The voiceless are the worse ones. They have voice implants, which are so much more annoying than regular human voices.”

  “Go on. Get back there,” Reyne ordered. “See to our passengers. I want them under supervision at all times. I won’t want them messing around with anything on this ship.”

  Sixx grumbled as he strapped his weapons on. The pair walked together back to the cargo bay. When they reached the door, Reyne squeezed Sixx’s shoulder. “Be patient with them. Most of them were tenured on Myr or Alluvia, like Boden. They’ve likely suffered under some pretty shitty citizens to have their voices removed.”

  Sixx scowled. “I’ll stay patient as long as my sanity holds. No guarantees beyond that.”

  “Then, you have my permission to kick their asses when they piss you off. Just don’t kill any of them. That would reflect badly on our hospitality.”

  “That I can handle.”

  Reyne gave him a quick smile and finally made it to the mechanicals room at the far end of the ship, where he found Boden standing with his forehead pressed against the wall.

  Reyne winced. “That bad, huh?”

  The mechanic shot him a quick glance before settling down on a large duct running in between the walls. “The Gryphon supports a crew of fourteen. We’re flying with twenty-one right now. It’s stressing the air exchanger.”

  “Are we running a risk of it failing?”

  “Probably not, but the exchanger is overloaded. It’s running hotter every hour. I need to turn it down to minimum support for a while to let it cool down.”
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  “We only have enough oxygen cans for the crew.”

  Boden calculated for a moment. “I’ll do it during the sleep hours, so they won’t notice anything. Anyone awake may experience some mild hypoxia.”

  “Sixx will enjoy that.” Reyne slapped Boden’s shoulder. “Do what you have to do. I’ll give the crew a heads up. Ping us when you reduce the air levels, so we can switch over to our portables.”

  “Sure thing,” the mechanic replied.

  Reyne made his way back to the bridge to find Throttle and Demes bantering. He leaned against the doorway and shook his head, feeling that all he’d done the past few days was lasso chaos.

  “The Honorless could kick the Gryphon’s ass on the Coastal Run,” Demes said.

  “In your dreams,” Throttle snapped back. “The Gryphon’s smaller, plus it has a Flux Whisper engine. Take that, pirate.”

  “Ouch.” Demes smirked. “Impressive, but the Honorless has two Flux Whispers. I’ll take that kiss now.”

  Throttle’s jaw dropped before she clamped it shut and became instantly focused on her instrument panel.

  Demes chuckled and strode over to her. Reyne felt suddenly more protective of Throttle, but forced himself to stay put.

  She glared at Demes and then gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  He leaned back. “That most certainly is not a kiss.”

  He cupped her cheeks and swooped in, kissing her long and firmly on the lips.

  Reyne cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. Demes pulled away with a grin, and Reyne relaxed.

  Throttle swatted his arm. “Happy now?”

  “Yep. For now.” Demes walked cockily back to his seat, crossing paths with Reyne on the way. He paused and shrugged. “She lost a bet.”

  Reyne couldn’t miss the smile Throttle was trying too hard to hide, and he suspected she wasn't feeling too badly about losing the bet. “I should’ve warned you,” he said. “Never make a bet with a pirate.” He nodded in Demes’ general direction. “Any bet that one makes is guaranteed to be rigged in his favor.”

  “Lesson learned.” She dramatically pouted before focusing wholly on her instrument panel.

  Reyne took a seat and broadcast to Doc and Sixx’s quarters, “Heads up, crew. In a bit, Boden will be reducing the air exchanger to let it cool down. He’ll let you know when you need to switch to portables. No need to alert our passengers. Just keep an eye out for signs of hypoxia.”

  “What kind of junker are we flying in?” Demes asked.

  “I thought pirates were a hardy lot,” Reyne replied. “From what I hear, they don’t even need air to breathe.”

  “It’s a fact, but we sometimes like to pretend we need it. We don’t want to intimidate the ladies too much,” Demes said, tossing a glance in Throttle’s direction.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Reyne ignored him and began to review the approach plates for Sol Base, the fringe station on Darios and the busiest space docks in the Collective. The planet produced a huge portion of the Collective’s food supply, including all of the Collective’s philoseed and cavote, two bean-like staples in every civilian’s and colonist’s diet alike. Alluvia and Myr depended on Darios, making that fringe station the CUF’s most closely guarded colony.

  Darios was also the most highly regulated, with over eighty percent income tax on its exports. Even with that penalty, Darions were the wealthiest colonists, making it clear just how much food they produced. However, Darions had been growing more and more agitated at the Collective’s greed and had begun holding strikes, delaying shipments to Myr and Alluvia while bypassing their citizen middlemen to sell food directly to the other colonies. Their actions were a slap in the face to the Collective’s two leaders.

  Sol Base was a thermite trip wire that could be triggered at any time. It was the perfect time to send in torrent recruiters.

  “Whoa. You have a phase cannon?” Demes asked.

  Reyne shot around to see Demes running his fingers across the panel at his station. Reyne jumped to his feet and rushed over. “How’d you get access to the ship’s systems?”

  “I’m a pirate. It’s my job.”

  “Stop that.” Reyne pushed Demes to the side and ran commands to lock out the young man. Finished, he took a step back. “Listen here, pup. You’re on my ship, but you are not one of my crew. If you put my crew or my ship at risk, I won’t hesitate to drift you. Do you understand that?”

  Demes leaned back in his seat and held up his hands in surrender. “I was just bored and looking around. No harm intended, I swear. I was running scans to make sure we didn’t have a bigger problem than the air exchanger to worry about.”

  “I have everything under control. The next time you get bored and want to know something, ask.” Reyne turned to Throttle. “If he pisses you off, shoot him.”

  Throttle grinned. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Reyne returned to his panel and hit the comm. “Boden, run diagnostics on the systems. Make sure no command lines were changed during this run.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  “I didn’t change anything,” Demes said. “I could have, but I didn’t.”

  Reyne sighed. Why couldn’t just one person behave and do their job and not give him a headache? He shook his head and tried to focus on preparing for Sol Base. He had some success until Demes continued.

  “I’m not trying to butt into your business, but when I was in your systems, I couldn’t help but notice that the Gryphon has fortified skins. Very impressive. She’d make a good pirate ship.”

  Reyne put his elbows on the panel and lowered his head into his hands. “How the hell did you see that?”

  “I ran temp checks throughout the ship. The hull’s insulation factor is much higher than normal. My guess is you have a full second layer of rilon inside the outer layer. It’s an old pirate trick. The rilon fortifies a ship’s hull without any suspicious onlookers being the wiser. The CUF would have to cut into the hull to even see it.” He whistled. “That’s not a cheap add-on.”

  “It’s an old torrent trick. The pirates learned from the torrents,” Reyne corrected.

  Demes paused. “All in all, she’s not a bad ship. I’d take her off your hands if you ever decide to sell her. Especially if the pilot comes with her.”

  Throttle flipped her middle finger at Demes.

  “You’d have to pry this ship out of my cold, dead hands,” Reyne said. “As for Throttle, she’d eat you alive.”

  He grinned. “Sounds like a challenge.”

  “Which part? The part about prying the ship out of my cold, dead hands? Or, the part about Throttle?”

  “The part about Throttle. No offense, Captain, but you’re old. I think I could take you in a fair fight.”

  Reyne unbuckled his holster and pulled out his gun.

  “Not that I’d ever consider it,” Demes quickly added. “Especially now that we’re friends.”

  Reyne slowly slid the gun back into his holster. “We’re friends now?”

  “Sure,” the younger pirate said. “To prove it to you, I’ll even tell you what else I found in your systems.”

  Reyne took in a breath. “What else did you find?” he asked, taking the bait.

  “You have a tracking device on the ship. Looks like it’s tucked into the gear for the solar sails. High-tech. My guess is it’s Alluvian-made.”

  Reyne spun around to his panel and punched commands to pull up the ship’s grid. Looking at the solar sails, he found nothing. He walked to Demes. “Show me.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll need access to your systems.”

  Reyne grunted and unlocked the panel, not doubting for an instant that the pirate could’ve hacked into the system in seconds.

  The man’s fingers flew over the panel so fast that Reyne had a hard time following what he was doing. Soon, Demes leaned back and pointed.

  Reyne leaned closer. Sure enough, whatever system scan Demes had run caught the tr
ansmitter. “Son of a bitch.”

  “If I were to play the devil’s advocate—or Critch’s advocate, in this case,” Demes began. “That tracker has a CUF signature. Did you know that tracker was there? Critch warned me that you might try to rendezvous with your old CUF buddies. Or, did the CUF get a wild hair up its ass and decide to track a run-of-the-mill fringe runner for no particular reason? I’d hate to say it, but the first is a far more rational explanation.”

  Reyne took a step back to see that Demes had a gun leveled at his chest.

  “Are you nuts, Demes?” Throttle called out. “Put that gun away.”

  “Just doing my job, sweets. It’s nothing personal.”

  Reyne held out his hands. “I have no idea how that tracker got there. You have my word on that. And, I sure as shit don’t have any CUF buddies.”

  “You shoot him, I shoot you,” Throttle said, and Reyne saw that she had a gun aimed at Demes.

  Reyne waved his fingers in the air. “Enough. Both of you, put away your guns.” When neither complied, he continued. “Demes, if you shoot me, then Throttle will shoot you. Critch won’t be happy, and he’ll come after Throttle. Instead of wasting our lives and energy on being enemies, we need to focus on the job. Right now, that job is getting those recruiters sitting in my cargo bay safely to Sol Base so they can begin rallying the colonists. I give you my word, I’ll find out who put that tracker on my ship. Until then, how about you give me the benefit of the doubt and help me figure out how to jam that signal? How about it, friend? Consider yourself a part of my crew while you’re on board the Gryphon.”

  Demes eyed Reyne for a long second before sliding his gun back into its holster. He cracked his knuckles and smiled. “See? I told you we were friends.”

  Reyne nodded at Throttle, who then holstered her gun. Then, Reyne swung around and punched Demes. The younger man went tumbling to the floor.

  Reyne stood over him and then held out a hand. “Now, we’re friends.”

  Demes rubbed his chin and spit out blood. He eyed Reyne for a moment, then grabbed the outstretched hand, and Reyne pulled him to his feet.

  He took a seat. “You’ve got a pretty solid right hook for an old man.”