Ariston_Star Guardians Read online

  “You have a problem with this?” Eryx asked softly, his eyes narrowing.

  Lost in his pondering, Ariston hadn’t noticed the captain looking at him. He did his best to wipe his feelings off his face.

  “No problem with taking down relic thieves,” Ariston said. “Just wasn’t expecting life on a salvage ship to be so exciting.”

  “No? You look like a man who seeks out excitement.” Eryx waved at him, or maybe at his physique.

  Actually, he was a man who’d been contemplating retirement. Forty-three was young for it, but space adventures had lost a lot of their appeal since Zya had died. He just had no idea what else he would do with himself.

  “Not anymore,” he said quietly.

  “Well, I need you to salvage that wreck as soon as we get it pulled into the bay. You can make it as unexciting as you want, but I want anything valuable beaten into shape.”

  “What if there are survivors?”

  “Shoot them.”

  Ariston arched his eyebrows.

  “They’re criminals,” Eryx said fiercely. “Thieves. They chose to live by this life, and they’ll accept the consequences and die by this life. I’ll come down there and do it myself if you don’t have the stomach for it.”

  “Criminals should be tried in courts by judges. They’ll—”

  “Give them a couple of licks with the lash and let them go back to their planet to be punished by their own government. Which will never happen. They’ll get away with it all and go back to thieving. And killing. Those people kill to cover their tracks. Don’t tell me they don’t.”

  “As we’re doing to ensure nobody finds out that you’re destroying a ship so that you can salvage it?” Ariston shouldn’t pick a fight with the captain, especially when it might blow his cover. But it was hard to keep his mouth shut about ships being shot down and their crews murdered. No matter who they were.

  “A little profit to keep our outfit operating,” Eryx said. “That’s all. We only kill those who deserve to be killed. Most of the time, their ships have been stolen so many times that we couldn’t find the legal owner to send ’em back to anyway. You stick with us, and you’ll see, Ston. We’re fighting for justice, justice the government is too wishy washy to mete out on their own.”

  “Sir?” the helmsman asked, an uncertain note to his voice. “They fell too fast, and the atmosphere has been tricky to navigate. I didn’t get a tow beam on them.”

  “Meaning they’re going to crash?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I—”

  Eryx interrupted him with a disgusted noise. “You’ll go on the away team to pick up the pieces. Damn it.” He pounded a fist against his thigh. “There won’t be much to salvage from a ship crashing from forty thousand feet.”

  Ariston tamped down a smile, pleased the captain would lose out on some of the money he’d thought he would earn from this stunt. Also pleased that he’d recorded enough at this point to condemn Eryx in front of Confederation judges.

  The challenging part would be getting Eryx to court to be tried. Ariston was all alone out here, and the Journey had a crew of over fifty.

  “There is that second ship,” the helmsman said. “It didn’t crash. It landed down there. Next to some pyramid.”

  “So, it’s fully intact?” the captain asked, his tone switching from irritation to contemplation.

  “Yes, sir. I see life signs… crew of seven or eight, it looks like.”

  Ariston shifted his weight, a stone of unease settling into his stomach. Would Eryx send his away team out there to kill the people in this other ship? To murder them as surely as he’d done with the first ship?

  “More relic thieves?” Eryx stroked his white beard.

  “It’s a ship of Dethocolean origins,” the helmsman said, peering over at a sensor reading.

  Still recording, Ariston watched Eryx carefully.

  “An old hunter ship,” the helmsman added. “Almost as fast as us and maybe more maneuverable—when they’re in the air. Those ships have a lot of hidden nooks inside. They’re favored by smugglers. Pirates and bounty hunters too.”

  “All the more likely it’s another group of relic thieves,” Eryx said. “According to the Confederation, the ruins of Mustikos are off limits to all but sanctioned research teams. Which means these people are here illegally. Which means…” A wolfish smile stretched across Eryx’s face. “Nobody’s going to miss them. Prepare two shuttles to go down.”

  “Isn’t this planet haunted?” The helmsman shared an uneasy glance with the weapons officer.

  “Stories, nothing more. Even if they’re true, we’re not staying long enough for it to matter.” Eryx turned toward the weapons officer, a quiet, bloodthirsty man who was a lot more dangerous than the brothers Ariston had faced. “Get two teams together, Arrow. Ston, get your tools. You’re going. I want the wreck searched and anything valuable that survived the crash brought on board. And then I want that other ship brought into Bay Three. We’ll take it apart piece by piece and sell it.”

  “Do we kill the survivors?” Arrow asked, his expression dispassionate, as if he were asking about the weather. “And the crew of the other ship?”

  “Leave no witnesses,” Eryx said. “I’m not going to have some thieving criminals showing up on Dethocoles to whine about us to the archons, to tell them we didn’t follow proper protocols when arresting them. We’re not some uptight, cock-sucking Star Guardians.”

  Ariston jerked, clenching a fist at the insult to his agency, just as Eryx turned toward him, his eyes narrowing again.

  “You have any problem with that, assistant engineer?”

  “Not if we’re sure they’re criminals.” Ariston forced his fist to unclench, even though he had many problems with the scenario unfolding. And he had no idea how he was going to stop it.

  “They’re here, trespassing on ruins under government jurisdiction. That makes them criminals. They’ve condemned themselves with their actions.”

  3

  “That ship crashed there,” Mick said, pointing to the sensor display for the benefit of the scientists that had crowded into her cockpit.

  With boulders and ruins in the way, they couldn’t see the other vessel on the view screen, but the sensors showed everything around them for miles and miles, almost as accurately as if there had been a satellite in orbit taking pictures. It also showed two weak life signs among the wreckage. At least two people were alive over there. For now.

  “Just under a mile away and on the other side of the ruins,” Mick said.

  “Where’s the ship that did it?” the engineer Dr. Cecil Woodruff asked, his short red hair ruffled from his hand pushing through it frequently. “You said something huge shot them down, right?”

  Dr. Lee grumbled something under his breath. It sounded like a complaint that he and the others had been locked out of the cockpit earlier and hadn’t seen the battle.

  If Mick had her druthers, they’d still be locked out, but she wasn’t in command. She owned the ship—at least, her name was on the loan for the ship—so she was in charge of it, but Dr. Lee was the lead scientist in charge of the mission.

  “About forty thousand feet over our heads.” Mick spread her fingers through the holographic display to zoom out and show the hulking salvage ship flying in slow circles far above. “I doubt they can land that behemoth anywhere nearby. The sensors showed two people—or two somethings—alive on the crashed ship. The ship that was shot down. We know nothing about them, but they probably need help. I have combat experience as well as armor and weapons, so I’m the logical one to check on them. If they attack, I can deal with it. If they need help, I can carry them back. That said, it might be a better idea to stay out of it completely and hope that big ship doesn’t notice us down here.”

  “You have combat experience?” Dev whispered from the co-pilot’s seat, her eyes round. “I thought you fixed airplanes in the military.”

  “I was deployed twice when I was in, and there were in
cidents.” Mick grimaced, not letting her mind drift back to the particular incident that had prompted her to get out instead of staying in for the career she’d always believed she was perfect for. “Even mechanics learn how to fight in the Marines.”

  “If there are survivors, we have to help them,” Dr. Valentin Garcia said, the only scientist on the team that Mick didn’t mind calling Doctor, since he legitimately was one, a medical one.

  He was a neurologist who’d studied the effects of space on the human brain, and who also had NASA training that included experience, however hypothetical, with treating people in zero gravity and strange conditions. Not that such was necessary on the Viper. From what Mick had seen, most Confederation spaceships had inertial dampeners and artificial gravity.

  “What we have to do is stay out of these people’s war,” Lee said. “As soon as it’s safe to do so, we’ll go out, set up our camp, and mind our own business.”

  His words drew frowns from Garcia and the other scientists. The barista/meteorologist, Sven Safin, and the geological survey guy, James Weiss, hadn’t fit into the cockpit, but they leaned in from the corridor. Mick felt extremely claustrophobic.

  “We can’t leave people out there to die,” Garcia said.

  “Is there any way to camouflage this ship?” Lee asked Mick, ignoring the doctor.

  Mick shook her head. “I’m sure that other ship knows we’re here.”

  She pointed skyward to make sure they knew she was talking about the big one. The threat.

  “I agree with the doctor,” Woodruff said. “We need to check on the survivors and help them if possible. Maybe we can get them out of there before their enemies come down to investigate the wreck.”

  “Didn’t you say the salvage ship was too big to land?” Dev asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s also big enough to have shuttles or the equivalent of fighter jets inside the bays.”

  “So, they could potentially send a limited number of people down,” Dr. Weiss said from the doorway. “But they haven’t launched a shuttle yet?”

  “Not yet.” Mick doubted they would be lucky enough that the salvage ship would simply go away.

  “I vote we check on the survivors,” Weiss said. “A couple of us, while the others make preparations to hide in the ruins if necessary. I’m sure that ship could obliterate ours easily from their position. There’s nothing hiding us down here.”

  A lot of expressions turned grim at his words.

  Mick felt indignant. If someone started firing at her ship, she would raise shields and take off at top speed. But she had to admit the Viper’s shields wouldn’t be a match for the salvage ship’s massive firepower, and she might not be able to escape.

  “If the enemy ship launches shuttles, then we’ll get back here and hunker down,” Weiss said. “Prepare to defend ourselves.”

  “You’re not in charge of the mission, Weiss,” Lee said.

  “I’m sharing my opinions on what we should do. And casting a vote.”

  “This isn’t a democracy.”

  “Nor is it a dictatorship or even a military mission.”

  “The CEO put me in charge.”

  The only member of the party who hadn’t chimed in yet met Mick’s eyes, his expression sympathetic. Sven Safin studied atmospheric conditions on other planets and had been sent along to survey the weather patterns here. He had a master’s degree but not a Ph.D., which made him the only person on the ship that Mick wasn’t supposed to address as “Doctor.”

  “Let’s take a vote,” Garcia said. “Who wants to try to help the survivors?” He raised his hand.

  Weiss raised his hand.

  Lee folded his arms over his chest.

  The others waffled, looking at the display and looking at each other. Mick wouldn’t be surprised if the poor people over there died while her committee of scientists tried to come to agreement.

  Dev raised her hand, and Woodruff finally did too. Only Safin and Lee voted no.

  “We’re checking on them then.” Garcia nodded firmly, his dark eyes challenging as he met Lee’s.

  “Fine,” Lee said, “but send Saunders in her suit of armor. The rest of us will don our hazmat suits and prepare to go out if and when it’s needed.”

  “Is our plucky captain supposed to carry two people back on her own?” Garcia asked dryly.

  Mick probably could in the armor. It was an old suit that her sister had helped her acquire—somewhat illegally, since only law enforcement officers and space fleet soldiers were supposed to own the stuff. Katie’s boyfriend, a Star Guardian pilot named Zakota, had glanced at the suit when they’d brought it into her apartment on Dethocoles, then jerked his head away, firmly declaring that if he hadn’t gotten a good look at it, he couldn’t report to anyone that he knew about the acquisition. While trying it on and learning how to use the features, Mick must have walked past him ten times, but he’d always studied the ceiling so he could continue not getting a solid look at it. A good man.

  “I’ll handle it,” Mick said. “I can carry one, and I’ve got a lifter I can take. You guys just prepare to do your science things. Dev, stay here by the comm and monitor the sensor display. Let me know if anything changes with that ship up there, such as if they decide to send anyone down.”

  “I will go with you, Ms. Saunders,” Dr. Garcia said.

  Ms. Saunders? Who the hell was that? Nobody called her that.

  “Suit yourself, but stay out of the way. Am I right that none of you brought weapons?”

  “I have a sturdy and pointy soil-sampling probe,” Dev offered.

  “That’ll scare people in combat armor, I’m sure,” Mick said.

  “Actually, I have a Glock G29,” Woodruff said. “Thought about bringing my hunting rifle, too, since I heard the planet had something like lizards, and I wasn’t sure how big or aggressive they were, but it wouldn’t fit in my pack.”

  Though he looked to be straight out of Ireland with his red hair and freckles, Woodruff had a Texas drawl and was originally from some hick town a hundred miles from nowhere. Mick wasn’t surprised that he had a handgun.

  “You brought firearms?” Lee demanded. “On a spaceship? Do you know what could happen if a gun went off while we were in space?”

  “As the engineer on board, I have a few ideas about how physics work,” Woodruff said. “I assure you, it’s unloaded right now, and the ammo is in a separate box.”

  “You weren’t authorized.”

  “We weren’t going to the moon. From what the reports say, there are aliens that eat humans out in the galaxy, and you can’t necessarily even trust other humans.”

  “Enough,” Mick said, raising her hands to silence them. “Get out of my cockpit so I can dress.” She nudged the armor case under a console with her toe. “I’m sure time is of the essence for those people over there.” She jerked her thumb toward the weak life signs in the wreck, and the two scientists had the grace to look ashamed.

  “I’m putting on my suit,” Garcia said, striding out of the cockpit.

  The others trailed after him, Dev and Woodruff at the end. Dev walked close behind him. Their engineer was wearing a tank top at the moment, showing off lean, lanky arms. He wasn’t hulking, but he had a nice swimmer’s build and musculature. Mick wasn’t sure that he had noticed Dev giving him those puppy-dog eyes. Maybe she should have brought something sexier than baggy sweatshirts.

  Not that hookups were important in outer space.

  “Woodruff,” Mick said, making him pause and look back.

  “Get your gun out. You’ll be in charge of protecting the ship while I’m gone.”

  “From varmints?”

  “Varmints of all kinds, yes.” Mick looked skyward again, though of course she couldn’t see the salvage ship through the ceiling.

  “You got it, Captain,” he said.

  Mick decided she liked that label better than “miss.” She’d been a sergeant in the Marines, but she was technically a ship’s captain now, wasn’t
she? Even if she usually only had a one-person crew—herself. And even if a bank on Dethocoles owned most of the ship. If she hadn’t learned of a game similar to poker that was popular throughout the galaxy, she wouldn’t have even had the money for the down payment. But this mission, she reminded herself, could change all that. She would earn enough to pay off that loan and own the ship outright, and then she could be independent and free. It wasn’t quite the same as being a part of a military unit and fighting for other people’s safety and human rights, but it was something.

  “Just have to survive this,” she muttered to herself.

  “Don’t forget about the ghosts,” Dev added, smiling at Woodruff.

  “Ghosts?”

  “The planet’s haunted, remember?”

  “Oh, right. I saw that in the report. I’m not sure bullets work well on ghosts, but I’ll be ready for them.” He winked at her and continued down the corridor.

  Dev smiled after him with stars in her eyes.

  Mick glanced at the sensors. The salvage ship had descended about ten thousand feet. In preparation of launching shuttles?

  If so, ghosts would be the least of her worries.

  • • • • •

  Smoke wafted above the ruins, rising into a hazy orange sky that matched the system’s orange sun. Wind scraped across the tan earth, stirring dust. The outside temperature, reprogrammed from Dethocolean degrees to Fahrenheit, registered at fifty-three according to her suit’s instruments. Mick felt neither the cold nor wind nor the sun’s rays through her combat armor, which enclosed her body from helmet to boots.

  Self-contained and suitable for space and other questionable environments, the armor was surprisingly comfortable, especially considering it was bulkier than the suits the bomb squad guys wore back home. The boots had a spring to them that could have propelled her well into the air if she wished. They could also increase her speed if she needed to run.