Galactic - Ten Book Space Opera Sci-Fi Boxset Read online

  “What’s her price?”

  “You can’t buy her out. Nobody can.”

  “Are you sure we can’t come to some arrangement?” Mach said and gave the guard his best smile. “I can make a direct payment if you help me out.”

  The guard sighed. “Sorry. I’d end up replacing her if I let her go.”

  “I understand. I’ll take…” Mach squinted at the display below the cell window, keeping up the act in case of any complications back at reception. “Ernesto Sanchez, and be on my way.”

  Adira would be leaving Summanus on the Phalanx-E. If they wouldn’t let Mach pay for her, he had little option but to bust her out. Once he had Ernie Sanchez safely out of the building, they needed a plan.

  Chapter Eight

  A gust of wind blew across the dark landing strip, spraying ice-cold rain against Mach’s face. He jogged toward the Phalanx-E and the side door opened, throwing out a shaft of light into the gloom. Sanchez followed, looking more like his normal self, dressed in a dark brown leather jacket and trousers made from balto hide.

  Mach’s boot splashed through puddles on the floor and he sped up the ramp. Lassea worked at the back of the shuttle on the damaged interior, running diagnostics through a pad balanced on her lap.

  Danick sat at the cockpit and turned in his chair. “Did you get what you came—” His eyes widened as Sanchez’s large frame entered the shuttle.

  Sanchez glanced around its dull interior and shook his head. “They don’t make ’em like they used to.”

  “Let me introduce you to Sanchez, Ernesto Sanchez,” Mach said. “He’s officially part of our crew.”

  Lassea placed down the pad, approached the big man, and slowly extended a hand as if placing it into a predator’s open mouth. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ernesto Sanchez.”

  Sanchez smiled down at her, flashing his two gold front teeth. “A sprog from the fleet, eh? What’s this crazy bastard had you doing? Oh, and call me Sanchez.”

  “We’re here to help him find the Atlantis ship,” Lassea said.

  Silence filled the shuttle. Sanchez’s smile dropped. He turned to Mach. “You busted me out to search for a myth?”

  “A myth doesn’t destroy an orbital station,” Mach said. “I’ve seen the footage. It exists and could make us both rich, far richer than running some rusty guns.”

  “How are we supposed to capture it in this thing? It doesn’t even have basic weapons.”

  “That’s for us to work out. But we have a more immediate priority. We need more crew members… I want to break Adira out.”

  “Adira? She’s in max security solitary, you know that, right?”

  Mach shrugged. “I’m sure we can put our heads together.”

  “Why do you want her, of all people? I heard she once tried to remove your testicles from your body with a steak knife.”

  Lassea eyed Mach with a hint of alarm.

  “That’s just her take on a romantic evening. But seriously, Sanchez, we’re not going anywhere until we have her onboard. You know this place better than I; I need you, man.”

  Sanchez sighed and rubbed his thick hand across his chin, the rough skin of his fingers scraping across the stubble, the sound rasping like glass-paper against wood.

  “I’ll help you break her out and stay with you for a month to find this Moby Dick of a ship—on your dime, but not a day longer. Oh, and I want fifty percent of any proceeds.”

  “Fifty?” Mach said, incredulous. “Twenty-five. I’ve got costs and a better ship to arrange. I’m on the favor of a minor CW dignitary. I don’t have an endless budget here.”

  “Forty,” Sanchez said.

  “Thirty, and that’s my final offer. Any more than that, and it’d be cost effective for me to have you go back inside.”

  “Fine, I can live with that,” Sanchez said with a satisfied grin. He spat in his hand and held it forward. Mach shook it, the warm saliva smudging against his palm.

  Danick joined them in the midsection and stood next to his sister. “We can’t be involved with this. Everyone in the Fides system knows about Adira’s murders.”

  “You’re here to follow my orders,” Mach said. “Download the prison plans from the central database and get them up on screen.”

  The JPs stood looking at him like a pair of lost puppies. Sanchez moved behind them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. “You better listen to the man. I’ve seen him in a bad mood, and let me tell you, it ain’t a pretty sight.”

  Mach loved Sanchez’s style of passive-aggressive persuasion, but his other skills got him on this particular mission.

  “I’ll have them up for you in two minutes,” Lassea said and brushed Sanchez’s hand off her shoulder. “For the record, I don’t like being touched.”

  Sanchez laughed and sat on the soft leather captain’s chair. “Fides Primes and their stiff culture. You need to relax a little.”

  Danick and Lassea sat at the cockpit controls and worked the holocontrols to get the required information. If Mach could find a way out, that didn’t involve passing reception, he was confident of springing Adira.

  “Did Adira really try to kill you?” Lassea said.

  “It was a long time ago.” Mach thought back to the encounter. Apparently he was the only person alive in the Salus Sphere to survive one of her attempts. “I’ve spoken to her since, in a sense. There’s no hard feelings.”

  “I’d be careful,” Sanchez said. “If she had a contract on you, I wouldn’t put it past her to cash in at the first available opportunity. I would.”

  Mach shook his head. “It’s over, trust me. Get what tools you need to break off her security neck-ring. I’ve already thought of a way to get inside.”

  Sanchez grunted and heaved himself from the chair. He walked toward the back of the shuttle and pulled open the hatches on the unbuckled left-hand side.

  “I pulled in a favor from one of my friends at HQ,” Lassea said.

  The 3D technical designs for the prison flashed across the left screen above the cockpit. Mach studied the designs. They had to have emergency exits in case of a fire. The CW was health and safety mad, and wouldn’t have only one point of access. He spread his finger and thumb on the console and zoomed in on the solitary wing.

  The wall thinned on a one-meter section at the end of the corridor. He checked B-wing and it had the same feature. False walls that could be blasted through, or brought down by a group of angry horans at full sprint. It initially seemed convenient, but he remembered his time in prison. Armed guards stood in front of the walls whenever cells opened and inmates were strictly controlled.

  Mach’s suspicion proved correct. He now had a way in and a way out. The last thing required was access to the cells. For that he’d need a security card.

  “Are you two ready for a drink?” he said to Danick and Lassea.

  “We’ve already told you—” Danick said.

  “Start to live a little. You’ll appreciate these little downtimes in a week or two.”

  Lassea disabled the holocontrols and stood. Sanchez appeared from the back of the shuttle, holding a cylinder-shaped multipurpose electro-tool. “Did somebody mention a drink?”

  Mach nodded. “We’re going to find a security swipe.”

  ***

  A small group of buildings clustered around an apartment block half a klick from the shuttle. Mach headed for their dim lights and caught up on the latest Salus gossip with Sanchez. All of it was standard. The outer planets expected war. Pirates were still a problem, and there was still good money to be made smuggling.

  Danick and Lassea trudged along beside them, shielding their faces from the rain that swept across the road.

  Prison staff and a few crazy people who decided to make Summanus their home lived in apartments. A CW defense force station, a bar stocked with only basic goods, and a derelict clothing shop spread around its base.

  Staff and visitors frequented the bar. It was an easier spot to find an off-duty guard to target
. Failing that, they’d have to visit a few apartments and find an unoccupied one to burgle.

  A crackling red light hung above a set of steel doors. Not the most welcoming place, but it suited the rest of the planet. People nicknamed it The Bar With No Name.

  Mach entered and glanced around.

  Two crimson-colored horans sat at a table near the front, in frayed old black battle dress. Both turned and stared through their lizard yellow eyes. He continued past them and headed straight for the long filthy gray metallic bar at the end of the room.

  Two guards sat on stools and leaned over their drinks. A single fidian, dressed in a blue robe, stood behind the bar and rested his hands on the electric drink pumps.

  “Take a seat in the corner,” Mach said to Sanchez. “I’ll get us all a star-chaser.”

  “You got it,” Sanchez said, leading the JPs to a circular table on the right-hand side.

  “What can I get you?” the fidian said.

  “Four chasers, please.” Mach held his smart-screen over the shiny black payment plate. The fidian registered the order on its console and the plate bleeped.

  Mach glanced at the two guards from the corner of his eye. Neither had a security swipe attached to their belts, but they might still be carrying it. The fidian filled four medium-sized glasses with blue liquid and pushed them across the sticky metal surface of the bar. He clasped his hands around the glasses and headed for the table.

  A star-chaser was a strong alcoholic drink made from fruit farmed on Fides Delta. For a seasoned drinker, it hit the spot. Carson smiled at the thought of Lassea and Danick being knocked sideways for an hour or so. It didn’t matter, he’d have hatched his plan by then, and they’d have time to recover. He placed the glasses down on the table.

  Sanchez immediately grabbed one and took a large gulp. He exhaled in satisfaction and held the drink in front of his face. “I’ve been waiting weeks to have another one of these.”

  Danick and Lassea pulled their glasses across the table. They looked at each other as if Carson had just asked them to down a cup of cold sick.

  “It’ll put hairs on your chest,” Sanchez said.

  Lassea narrowed her eyes and sipped from the top of the glass. She closed one eye and winced. Mach remembered his first drink and smiled. At least she didn’t pretend to enjoy it like he did, in a vain attempt to impress the old dogs at the fleet bar on Fides Prime.

  Danick met Mach’s gaze, rolled his eyes and took a large mouthful. He covered his mouth, swallowed hard, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

  “That’s the way to do it,” Mach said. He downed half of his chaser and enjoyed the burning sensation at the back of his throat.

  One of the guards, a young human with sandy hair, looked over at the group. Carson gestured to the spare seat at the table. “You’re welcome to join us.”

  The guard sighed, hopped off his stool, and brought over his drink. He sat next to Mach. “What are you doing on Summanus?”

  Mach smiled. “Just came here to see the sights.”

  “Yeah, right. You look the sort who buys crew.”

  “You got me. I’ve just bought him out,” Mach said and nodded in Sanchez’s direction. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Two years. I’m transferring out in a few months. Had enough of the place.”

  “That’s what you all say,” Sanchez said. “I bet I’ll come back here in twenty years and still find you slumped at the bar.”

  “Not a chance,” the guard said. “I’m out of here. This place has a way of bringing you down.”

  “I can imagine,” Mach said, detecting a hint of a slur in the guard’s words. “Can I get you another drink?”

  “Sure, I’ll have a nebula bomb.”

  Mach returned to the bar and ordered. While the fidian mixed the orange-colored drink, he slipped the atomic blue capsule out of his breast pocket and pulled it apart. A small part of the white powder inside sprinkled onto the muddy footprint-stained brown plastic floor. He rubbed it with his boot and cupped the two sections in his hand.

  The fidian handed Mach the drink. He briefly lowered it, emptied the contents of the capsule inside, and sloshed the drink around, ensuring it dissolved any traces of powder on the insides of the glass.

  Sanchez watched him approach and gave a quick wink. They’d used this technique before. The guard downed his current drink and wrapped his fingers around the nebula bomb. “Thanks. Next one’s on me.”

  “There’s no need. Enjoy it.”

  Lassea and Danick eyed Mach suspiciously, but they didn’t need to know what was going on. He sat next to the guard and waited. The two horans ordered more drinks. They would provide the route into the prison after he got the pass.

  “I’m not feeling so good,” Danick said. “Do you mind if we go back to the shuttle?”

  “You haven’t finished your chaser,” Sanchez said. “Mind if I have the honor?”

  “Sure,” Danick said. He stood and pressed a hand against the table to steady himself, clearly affected by only half of the drink. Lassea paused for a moment. Mach gestured his head toward the entrance. She downed her drink, grimaced, and left with her brother. That was another tick in the box for Lassea.

  “Drink up,” Mach said to the guard. “I’ll get you another.”

  “I’m happy if you’re paying.”

  The guard got to the bottom of his nebula bomb and his eyelids drooped. He sat back in his chair and frowned at Mach. “Who are you?”

  “He’s gone,” Sanchez said. “How many capsules did you put in?”

  “Just the one. I think it’s time we gave him a breath of fresh air.”

  They grabbed an arm each and propped the guard up. The fidian barman looked across and shook his head. Mach wrapped the guard’s thin arm around his shoulder. “Just taking him outside to clear his head.”

  The guard continued to babble. His speech became unrecognizable and a line of saliva dangled from his bottom lip. Sanchez propped him up on the other side. The guard’s dangling feet scraped across the floor as they dragged him outside.

  They carried the guard around the side of the tavern and leaned him against the side of its rough block wall. Mach patted down his pockets and felt a square object in the front left of his cargo pants. He fished his hand inside and produced a security swipe.

  “Bingo,” Mach said. “Let’s get him back inside. We don’t want him to die of hypothermia out here.” Mach’s breath plumed in the frigid air.

  “What’s our next move?” Sanchez said, showing no effect of the cold weather.

  “We’ll just be kept overnight for a disturbance, right?”

  “Yeah. They’ll search you, though.”

  “No problem. Can you get your tools in?”

  “Does a balto shit in the woods?”

  Mach forced the swipe against his right forearm. It punctured through a section of artificial skin and he slipped the swipe between two of his cybernetic muscles. He didn’t bother asking Sanchez where he concealed his multipurpose tool.

  They dragged the delirious guard back to the table and placed him on a chair. He slumped forward and rested his face in his hands. Mach had never seen an atomic blue have such a powerful effect, but he’d never tried after a skinful of booze.

  “Ready to have a little fun with those two horans?” Mach said.

  “I’ll take the left one, the ugly one.”

  The horans placed their glasses on the table and watched as Mach and Sanchez approached.

  Mach picked up the closest horan’s glass. “Mind if I finish your drink?”

  “Give it back, you fool,” the horan croaked.

  The other horan stood and hissed. Mach threw the contents of the glass into his face, knowing they couldn’t resist a challenge once somebody compromised their honor.

  Liquid dribbled off the horan’s chin. The one seated to the left sprang up, knocking the metal table over. Glass shattered across the floor. The fidian behind the bar gestured at his sma
rt-screen and ducked.

  Sanchez, true to form, didn’t wait for a seven-foot-tall horan to get in the first strike. He leaped forward and thrust his shoulder into the horan’s chest, sending them both skidding to the floor.

  The horan facing Mach swung its scaly, clawed hand. Mach ducked, the swipe glancing off the top of his head.

  Mach balled his fist, gritted his teeth, and slammed an uppercut into the horan’s stomach. It roared and smashed an elbow against his left shoulder.

  Pain shot through Mach’s joint. He jumped up and forced the top of his head against the horan’s snout. The alien staggered back and a trickle of purple blood poured from its nostril.

  Sanchez sat on the other horan’s chest. It bucked underneath him as he rained down punches.

  Mach’s opponent twisted off a metal chair leg and held the jagged part forward. “You won’t live to see your home world, human.”

  The metal doors flung open. Two dark blue uniformed CWDF soldiers entered, lasers raised, shifting their aim between Mach, Sanchez, and the two horans.

  Sanchez rolled free and held up his arms.

  Mach raised his too, and with a panting breath said, “We don’t want any trouble.”

  One of the soldiers, an unusually stocky fidesian, moved around to the back of Mach while keeping the laser pointed at his head. “You come to Summanus and start a bar fight, you’re gonna find it.”

  The soldier pulled a cuff block from his belt and stuffed Mach’s wrists through the gaps. The cuffs automatically tightened around his wrists.

  “Where are you taking me?” Mach said.

  “You can cool down in solitary for the night. I want you off the planet in the morning—when we’ve charged your account, of course.”

  The other soldier cuffed Sanchez.

  The two men were pushed out of the bar, back into the driving, freezing rain. Mach kept his head down as he was dragged into the blocky Summanus prison. He glanced at Sanchez and shared a minuscule nod of accomplishment.