The Rush's Edge

  PRAISE FOR GINGER SMITH

  “Ginger Smith’s vat-grown protagonist joins the likes of Frodo and Ulysses in this story of a soldier whose war is over, but his greatest battle – coming home – is still ahead. Smith’s debut is rich in detail, full of tension, and packed with characters you won’t easily forget.”

  R.W.W. Greene, author of The Light Years

  “Duplicitous military, assassins, super soldiers, alien tech, and a family of brilliant characters caught in the middle. The Rush’s Edge gives you all the Firefly feels with a dash of Mass Effect for the hell of it. Fantastically entertaining.”

  Dan Hanks, author of Captain Moxley and the Embers of the Empire

  “What happens when you release vat-raised soldiers into the void after their service is over? With this premise, Smith sets up multiple conflicts, from political to personal. You will root for these heroes and cringe at the evil that brought them together.”

  Chris Panatier, author of The Phlebotomist

  ANGRY ROBOT

  An imprint of Watkins Media Ltd

  Unit 11, Shepperton House

  89 Shepperton Road

  London N1 3DF

  UK

  angryrobotbooks.com

  twitter.com/angryrobotbooks

  Live Life on the Edge

  An Angry Robot paperback original, 2020

  Copyright © Ginger Smith 2020

  Cover by Kieryn Tyler

  Edited by Gemma Creffield and Paul Simpson

  Set in Meridien

  All rights reserved. Ginger Smith asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Sales of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed” and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.

  Angry Robot and the Angry Robot icon are registered trademarks of Watkins Media Ltd.

  ISBN 978 0 85766 864 6

  Ebook ISBN 978 0 85766 867 7

  Printed and bound in the United Kingdom by TJ International.

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This book is dedicated to my husband, Judd.

  CONTENTS

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  ONE

  The young blonde had been drinking heavily all night. Halvor Cullen had been watching her for a while, noticing that the same two guys kept coming back to her table, but getting turned down each time. Hal was about to get up and suggest they get lost when she sent them away once again, and they looked visibly pissed. Hal grinned, glad she was able to handle herself, despite looking like she’d just gotten off a luxury starliner from the Inner Spiral. He was working himself up to talking to her when Ty’s contact arrived.

  Hal’s captain, Tyce, was hoping to get a tip on a prime salvage location. After they’d both left the Armed Services of the Coalition of Allied Systems – the ACAS – Ty had bought a freighter, the Loshad, and they’d been salvaging technology past the Edge’s border as an independent contractor for LanTech ever since. Most of their haul was usually legit but they sold some of the forbidden-to-salvage items on the black markets of Seljin and Vesbra when they thought they could get away with it. With the profits from both, they were always able to keep their old J-class ship in food and fuel for the next run.

  Sometimes ships that crossed the border line without permission would bring back tips about salvage areas, information that could be bought for the right amount of scrill. Their contact tonight claimed to have the location of a crashed Mudar ship, the ultimate score for a salvage team. AI tech paid handsomely when it could be recovered. There was one problem with the guy, however: he was a null addict. Hal knew right away from the fine trembling in his hands and the twitching of his left eye. He wasn’t sure Tyce had picked up on it, though. Sometimes natural-borns didn’t see all the details a vat could. Hal caught Ty’s eye during a lull in the conversation and gave him the “no-go” signal. Tyce nodded and began to pull back from the deal they were making.

  Then the blonde woman swayed and fell off her chair. Hal jumped to attention.

  “Hal?” Ty asked, watching as his friend focused his eyes across the room.

  The contact, obviously irritated, slammed his hand on the bar. “Hey, I was talkin’ here!”

  “Shut the hell up,” Tyce said, trying to peer through the crowd to see what Hal was watching so intently. “Hal?”

  “Those guys grabbed that girl, Tyce,” he said, and he was off, pushing through the crowd.

  “Shit.”

  When Ty hit the alleyway, he saw that Hal was in the middle of a full-blown rush. His friend had taken on the biggest man first, of course, while the other one had pulled a small blaspistol and was trying to angle for a good shot on Hal. The girl was dumped on the space station decking, and Ty could see that she wasn’t going anywhere on her own.

  “Drop the blaster,” Ty said.

  The smaller man was focused on Hal so intently that he hadn’t seen Ty get the draw on him. He turned slowly, looking down the barrel of Ty’s weapon.

  “Drop it,” Ty said.

  It appeared that the would-be kidnapper wasn’t as committed as his partner, because his short-barreled PLP-20 clattered immediately to the ground. “Look, I got no problems with you,” said the thug. “All we came for was the girl.”

  “What do you want with her?” Ty asked.

  The man glared, unwilling to answer.

  Tyce checked in briefly with Hal, who was holding his own. Naturally. Hal just finished punching his opponent in the ribs, before the larger man countered with a fist to Hal’s jaw. Ty’s eyes flicked back dangerously to the red-and-blue haired punk-ass in front of him.

  “You’re not taking anyone with you tonight,” Ty said. “Go. And maybe I won’t shoot you. You can come back for what’s left of your friend later.” The thug glared at him a moment, then took off.

  Ty turned back to Hal again. The fist fight had turned into a knife fight; the large man had pulled a viblade to even the odds. Hal was bleeding from a cut on his forearm and trying to avoid being stabbed again. Ty raised his blaspistol, but there was no need as Hal executed a swift movement with one hand on each side of his opponent’s knife hand that sent the weapon flying. Then he quickly closed distance. They struggled, then Hal got the giant in a headlock. Despite his opponent desperately trying to wriggle himself free, after only a few seconds the man’s eyes were rollin
g back in his head and his feet were kicking at the space station’s decking. Ty holstered his weapon as Hal finally let the unconscious man sink to the ground.

  Ty edged toward the victor. “You OK?”

  “Yeah! Best thing I’ve done all week.” Hal was buoyant – coasting on the rush. Vats craved the rush like natural-borns craved air. Ty knew that Hal needed outlets for his excess energy, and their salvage trip the past two weeks had clearly not offered enough excitement. He’d been expecting Hal to get into a fight all night long, just for something to do. He was proud that his best friend hadn’t given in to the temptation until there was a reason, though. And a very good reason, clearly. “What about the second guy?” Hal asked, looking around for another crack at the whip.

  “I talked him into leaving. He decided it was better than a blaster bolt to the chest. Hey, uh, I see your arm, but how much of that blood on your shirt – and pants – is yours?” Ty asked as they walked back over to the blonde woman.

  “I dunno. Twenty percent?” Hal said, blotting his scraped knuckles on his pants. Ty could see his arm wore the worst of the damage. Hal yanked the hem of his shirt to wipe the blood away. It wasn’t too deep and was already starting to coagulate. He’d be fine.

  “OK, then.” They both knelt by the young woman. Ty checked her pulse. It was slow – too slow – but it was steady.

  “Shit, she’s bruised up.” Hal said softly, turning the girl’s face towards them. Her eye and cheek were black and purple – injuries that clearly hadn’t just been inflicted but were at least a day old.

  “Let’s get her over toward the entrance so we can see better,” Ty said.

  They left the unconscious thug on the ground, and Hal picked up the girl, cradling her against his chest.

  When they reached the entrance, Hal settled her upright on the nearest bench and she began to wake up a little. “Ma’am. Are you alright?” Tyce asked as she blinked at him.

  “You can’t route the signal that way,” she said sleepily, resting her head back against the wall. “Use the Bken protocol.”

  Tyce and Hal shared a glance. “She’s not making much sense,” Ty said.

  “Those guys probably put something in her drink,” Hal replied.

  “Or dosed her with a medjet.”

  “Can’t use creds,” she opened her eyes and looked at Hal as if she were explaining something very important. “It’s Echo. They see. They see everything. Scrill only.” Then she passed out.

  “We can’t leave her here, Cap,” Hal said. “Those two might come back for her.”

  “Everything OK?” The bouncer that had been at the door when they’d arrived took up his place again, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

  “We’re fine,” Ty said. “Our friend here had a little too much to drink.” He gestured to the girl. “We’re just trying to figure out the best way to get her home.”

  “Let’s see some ID.” Another bouncer, less athletic, but still imposing, joined the thickly muscled man. He had a handheld ID validation scanner.

  Hal glanced to Ty to see what his captain wanted him to do. Ty knew if he said go, Hal would plow into both of them. Probably even kill one of them, without touching his blaspistol. Sometimes that was comforting to know; other times it was terrifying to realize that Hal trusted him so completely to make those decisions.

  But there was no reason to fight the bouncers. Ty held out his ID to be scanned and gestured for Hal to do the same. The bouncer sneered when he saw the flash of Hal’s tattoo on his wrist. “Damn vat fuckers. Always causing problems,” he muttered.

  Hal straightened up and advanced, getting in the bouncer’s personal space.

  “Hal,” Ty said in a low voice.

  “What? You wanna go, jar-bred?” the bouncer spat.

  Hal smirked, hungry for another combat. “Sure. I’ll even give you the first swing, nat,” he said.

  The second bouncer was checking the screen of his scanner, but at the exchange he glanced up angrily at his companion, then yanked him back by his shirt. “Shut the fuck up, Marque. Godsdamn moron.” The bouncer glanced at Ty and then flashed a pair of wings on his own forearm; the design was a popular tattoo with nat flight crews in the ACAS. He checked Ty’s ID and addressed him more formally. “Sorry, captain. Go on about your night. Get the girl there home. She’s lookin’ a little green if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Ty nodded, glancing to Hal. “Let’s go.”

  Hal didn’t move, so Ty grabbed him by the shoulder. “Halvor, let’s get her home. Come on.”

  The use of his full first name brought Hal back enough so that he backed up, but kept his glare focused on Marque. As the bouncer went back in the club, Hal turned away. His expression softened when he saw the blonde again and he knelt to pick her up. “Come on,” Hal said gently. Her head leaned against Hal’s shoulder as he walked with Tyce back toward the series of lifts that would take them to their ship.

  She murmured a few times during the short trip. Ty had trouble understanding her except for when she woke up enough to look around her. “Don’t… let them get me,” she whispered softly. “Please.”

  “Nobody’s gonna hurt you,” Hal promised, looking at the bruises on her face. “I’ll take their head off if they even try. You’re gonna be OK.”

  “I like you,” she sighed resting back against him again. She was still for a while, then she lifted her head back up, eyes bleary. “I don’t feel so good,” she said, turning her head just in time to vomit on Hal’s arm and shoe. “Oh my gods… I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

  Hal didn’t even blink at it. “Don’t worry. Not the worst thing to happen to me.”

  She buried her face back against his shoulder with a moan. Ty looked over and smirked.

  “I can see you’ve had quite an effect on her,” Ty teased good-naturedly, then he became more serious. “We’ll let Beryl check her out in the medbay. If she needs a medcenter, it won’t take long to get her there.”

  They used Jaleeth Station’s complicated series of lifts to reach their ship. Jaleeth was a large station, constructed in the shape of an X, with docking for ships all along the thick legs of the structure. The berths were segregated depending on the class of ship so there were smaller berths for ships like the Loshad, but there were also those that accommodated larger vessels such as the ACAS warships. Once a ship was docked and the bay pressurized, a bay door led into the main concourse of the station, which contained thousands of hab units, retail shops, storage units, restaurants, bars and mech shops. Although its size could be confusing, once a traveler figured out its color-coded lift and tram system, travelling around was actually fairly quick.

  In less than twenty minutes, Beryl had the young woman on a table in the medbay, scanning her body. Their medic was an older woman who had served in the ACAS for two decades. In her salad days, Beryl McCabe had been a colonist of Tykus 7, an agricultural planet near the Border. Their colony had been attacked, and her husband and eight year-old son had been murdered by pirates. Beryl, along with the other colonists, had been rescued by an ACAS contingent. Later on, she’d joined up, done her time and been released from service.

  Beryl took a blood sample from the young woman. “Runa. Run a scan on this. She was probably drugged,” she said, plugging the sample into the analyzer.

  Yes, Beryl, their onboard computer replied. After a few seconds, the program spoke again. She has been drugged with Glimthixene at two and a half times the regular dosage. It is not lethal, but it is longer lasting when taken with alcohol. At her blood alcohol level, she will be in and out of consciousness for at least twenty hours.

  “Glimthixene?” Tyce was trying to place it. “What does the drug do?”

  “It’s a drug used for panic attacks – a tranquilizer,” Beryl answered.

  Tyce took the girl’s backpack off to make her more comfortable. He removed her shoes and covered her with a blanket as Beryl attached sensors to monitor her condition. “OK, what do we
need to do to treat her?”

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do, really,” Beryl said. “Just keep her warm and comfortable. We could drop her at Jaleeth’s medcenter, but you said someone tried to snatch her?”

  “Yeah.” Hal said. “Two of them.”

  Tyce eyed the dark bruising on the girl’s face. “I’m not really interested in leaving her anywhere before she’s awake enough to take care of herself,” he mused.

  “I think that’s a good plan.” Beryl nodded, turning her attention to Hal and noticing the state of his clothes for the first time. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. “Now you – you need a shower, then I want you back here so I can check you over.”

  “OK,” Hal agreed, taking a last look at the sleeping girl before heading for his room.

  “How did the meet go? Get any intel?” Beryl asked.

  “No. I think the guy was just trying to collect some easy scrill.” Ty ran a hand through his short brown hair in frustration. He gestured to the girl. “At least we were able to help someone.”

  Beryl nodded, checking the girl’s vitals. They were steady. “OK. Well, we can definitely take care of her here until she’s back up and about.”

  They got an IV line started, then Ty began looking for clues to the girl’s identity. He grabbed her backpack and hauled it up to the other empty medbed. Ty didn’t like going through her things, but he had to know who she was. The front pocket was full of data chips in various neon colors. Opening another larger inner area revealed a datapad. He tried to activate it and was met with a password lock screen.

  “She’s got a node. Must be a tecker,” Beryl said, showing Ty the port behind the girl’s ear. “Pretty high dollar rig, too.”

  Ty knew most teckers had nodes to allow them to interface with and monitor computer systems. Regular people could get them too, but that specific bioware was usually very expensive. “Mmm,” he agreed. “She’s got a lot of data chips in here too.” In the fourth compartment of the bag, he found an old ID badge for one of the universities located on the Inner Spiral. “Wait. Here we go,” he said. The photo showed the girl, in a much better state than she was in right now. Ocean green eyes looked confidently into the camera amid a sea of blonde curls and freckles. “Vivian Valjean. Says on her ID that she was studying technology.” He found the keycard for a cube where she was staying and set it beside her things.