The Rush's Edge Page 3

  Their guest was next to enter the galley. She was dressed in a light blue tee and black pants. It was obvious she’d washed up and changed before coming to look for someone.

  “Back on your feet, I see,” Ty said with a smile. He turned to retrieve two stainless steel mugs from a cabinet. “Want some coffee?”

  “Oh my gods, yes,” she nodded, eagerly taking the mug from him. He poured and she added sugar. It was wonderful. “Ohhh… I needed that.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Ty said, gesturing to the table. “Let’s sit down a minute.”

  She followed him to a seat. “So. What do you guys do? Go around rescuing people in trouble?”

  Ty shrugged. “Whatever the universe throws at us. Are you in trouble, Miss Valjean?”

  She looked down into her mug. “You can call me Vivi.”

  “OK, Vivi.” His question hung there for long moments until she looked back up.

  “I- I was in trouble, but I solved my own problem. It was… He was just… He was someone who wasn’t who I thought he was. That’s all.” Ty nodded slowly, and she went on. “That’s why I’m out here. Starting over. Finding a job, then a place to stay.”

  “You’re from the Inner Spiral?” Ty observed.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, “but I have experience as a tecker. In uni, I interned at a shipyard and worked on ship’s systems, and later with a security firm. I was hoping to find a job with one of the technology firms on Jaleeth or Omicron Station.”

  “I have a friend that works at TechSolutions on Omicron. We could introduce you,” Ty said. “Or, if you’re interested, I thought you might consider working with us?” He had intended on asking her more questions, but her easy manner made him go ahead and toss the offer out there.

  She looked up at him. “Working with you?”

  “Hal, Beryl and I are salvagers. We go out past the Border to look for Mudar tech and allenium. There’s debris from crashed and destroyed ships all over the Border planets from the Mudar war a century ago. Just recently, about the past ten years, they’ve opened it for salvage. Only certified teams can go out there and we’re one of them; we get our permits through LanTech. Our tecker – Lucas – left about a year ago and we’ve had trouble finding a replacement. The last guy we tried didn’t even make it out of spacedock.”

  “Yeah?” she asked. “Why? Is the job really hard?”

  “No.” Ty thought for a moment before replying. “It’s Hal. I mean, he doesn’t always get along with everyone. Let’s just say it’s been… difficult finding the right fit.”

  She nodded. “You guys are both ex-military, right?” she asked, remembering what Beryl had said to her about their past.

  “We are. Hal is a–” He was unsure if she had noticed Hal’s vat tattoo. “Hal was my sergeant during our time in the service. He’s a vat.” He watched her carefully to see how she handled the information. “Would that be a problem or make a difference?” If she were intolerant of vats, the issue was decided, and he would drop her back on Jaleeth.

  Her green eyes were thoughtful, but he detected no hint of prejudice there. “No, why would it be?” she asked.

  “Just making sure.” Ty replied with relief. “Some people – especially those from the Inner Spiral – don’t care for vats, you know.”

  “That’s not me,” she said simply. “Hal saved me. I owe him.”

  Ty nodded thoughtfully, giving her time to consider her next move.

  “How much does the job pay?”

  “Whatever the profits are on a haul, we split five ways. One for each of us and one part for the upkeep of the Loshad. It varies month to month, but you’ll make enough scrilla to survive pretty comfortably. We all pitch in a little for the food, water, and air and we do fairly well. You’ll have your own quarters. You can eat with us or by yourself, whatever you want.”

  “What does the position on ship entail?”

  “Helping to identify the purpose of Mudar tech we find that we don’t recognize. Monitoring our shipboard computer and making adjustments and repairs when needed. She runs well, but you never know. And I guess pitching in for whatever we need doing. We kind of keep it flexible around here. For example, Beryl not only patches us up, but she’s good on comms and keeping our ship supplied too. We’ll train you on everything you need to know, though.”

  She nodded thoughtfully and he carried on. “If you’re interested, why not try it for a run? If you decide it’s not for you, we can drop you back by Omicron or Jaleeth or wherever, no hard feelings.”

  She thought a second, then replied, “That sounds great. I’ll do my best for you, captain.” She held out her hand and Ty shook it. “Any tips you can give me for getting along with Hal, so I don’t end up like the last guy?”

  “I think you’re doing great so far. I mean, the fact that you threw up on him, and he still brought you back to the ship says a lot.” He smiled at her in a teasing way.

  She blushed again. “Don’t remind me,” she groaned.

  Just then Hal entered the room, shuffling past them to the coffee maker. Ty spoke as Hal found a mug, dumped five heaped spoons of sugar into it and filled it with coffee. “Hey, Vivi’s going to be our new tecker. At least for the next run.”

  “Five by five, Veevs,” Hal murmured as he made his way to the table beside Ty. He propped his head on his left hand, still half asleep.

  “Thanks again for saving me the other night. I owe you,” Vivi said.

  “Nah.” Hal took another sip of coffee, “You don’t owe me. Beatdowns are free for crewmembers, see? Just lemme know whose ass you want kicked, and I got it handled.” He took another slug, then glanced at Ty. “Are you putting her in the quarters near mine?”

  “Yeah.” Ty said. “That OK?”

  “Yeah, I’ll try to keep it down.” Hal nodded as he held out a hand to Vivi. “Welcome to the crew, Veevs.”

  FOUR

  The next few weeks passed quickly, and Ty was pleased that Vivi seemed to be working out. They did two runs and came back with a couple of halfway decent hauls of allenium and a Mudar sidearm from the ruins of an old human settlement on one of the earlier colonies that had been attacked by the AIs.

  They had returned to Omicron, the other large station in the Edge, to resupply and wait for another permit from LanTech to go back out. Ty knew back to back runs were tiring, but he wanted them to build up a reserve again, in case another slow period occurred.

  Ty and Hal were in a bar called the Shellback, located on one of the “lower” rays of the star-shaped base. The place attracted a lower-class crowd than the bars Ty was used to meeting contacts in. Astin Fortenot had messaged him with a salvage lead, but he hadn’t shown for their meeting. Fortenot was a friend from TechSolutions, the firm that he’d mentioned to Vivi. Every once in a while, Fortenot had intel that panned out. When it did, Cherise at LanTech usually swung them a permit and they went off to collect the artifacts.

  A quad game finished up on the feed behind the bar. Hal had made his way down there to watch the end of it, but his team, the Navs, had lost their championship. He was not going to be happy, Ty thought.

  Hal was stopped by a man on his way back to the bar, and the two began to exchange words. Ty watched, vigilant for any trouble. He could tell Hal was getting angry by the glint in his eye. He’d seen it often enough.

  The two men were glaring at each other now, almost forehead to forehead. Hal isn’t going to back down from this one. When does he ever? Tyce downed the rest of his whiskey with a sigh, ran a hand through his hair, and got up before Hal got himself killed or, more likely, killed someone else.

  Ty was athletic, but not nearly the size of Hal’s opponent. His best chance of breaking up the fight would be to head it off before it got started.

  “Halvor.”

  There was no response.

  “Stand down, Hal,” he repeated, hoping the military tone would break his best friend out of the adrenaline haze. When it didn’t work, he stepped in front of Hal, trying
to meet his gaze. Ty saw with dismay, however, that Hal had already locked on his adversary, his pupils so large that his eyes appeared a fathomless black.

  “Sorry, sir,” Hal said in a deceptively calm voice. “Man’s asked to have his head bashed in, and I mean to oblige him.”

  “Come on. Throw the first punch, you vat-bred dog!”

  Uh-oh, Ty thought. The man yelling at Hal was as large as he was stupid; he was sweaty, drunk, and dirty, with the angular tribal face and neck tattoos popular with spacers that lived on the Edge.

  “Look,” Ty said, turning to face Hal’s would-be opponent, but keeping a hand on his friend’s chest, “you really don’t wanna do this.”

  The man’s breath turned Ty’s stomach as he leaned in and sealed his fate. “This is none of your business, so… Fuck. Off. Asshole.”

  “Just remember, I tried to stop you.” Ty turned back to Hal, patting him on the shoulder and getting out of the way. “OK, bud. Do what you do.”

  With a grin, Hal launched himself past Tyce and landed the first punch. The brawler was stunned but recovered himself quickly and the two began pounding each other. Ty glanced at the bartender, who watched with the bored fascination of someone who had seen it all too many times.

  A double-fisted blow to the jaw sent Hal sprawling to the floor. But he only grinned back, showing teeth smeared with blood. He leapt from flat on his back to his feet in one move, an action that any prizefighter in the Edge would envy.

  Realizing Hal was stronger and more focused than he’d expected, the brawler pulled a blade. He managed two slices across his opponent’s chest before Hal used his longer reach to strike him squarely in the nose. The drunk immediately spewed blood, and the fight was all but over. By the time Halvor was done punching him, the drunk was a crushed heap on the floor.

  Hal wiped blood from his split lip. “OK, Cap.” He spat a bloodied globule at his opponent’s feet. “Now I’m done.”

  Tyce shook his head and laid down some scrilla on the bar. “For the mess,” he said, wondering if the bartender would call the local authorities or if he would just take the brawler out with the rest of the trash. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had to pay a hefty bribe to keep Hal from landing in Omicron Station’s brig, he thought.

  But luckily this time it was the trash. The bartender nodded and gestured to his cook, who dragged the brawler into the back by one leg as the bartender slipped the scrilla into his pocket and returned to pouring a drink.

  Vivi looked up from her cup of coffee as she saw Tyce and Hal enter the galley. Blood had run down Hal’s chin, streaking his T-shirt crimson. She put her datapad down and stood up.

  “What happened?” she asked, her eyes checking Hal over uneasily as she took a few steps back.

  “Someone needed their ass beat. I’m fine. Nothing an ice pack won’t fix,” Hal said casually.

  “He’s lucky he didn’t get arrested by the locals,” Ty added. He rummaged in a compartment, pulled out a medkit, and threw Hal an instant coldpack. Hal cracked it and placed it on a blackened eye. “The guy did ask for it, though.”

  Beryl came out from her quarters after hearing the noise. “What in the twelve hells happened to you, Hal?”

  Hal slid the coldpack down to his lip and muttered against it. “Fight. No big deal.”

  Ty passed the first aid kit over to Beryl. “Here. Your hands are steadier than mine.”

  “OK, soldier, take a seat.” Beryl gestured to the chair beside her. “Did you give him something to remember you by?” she asked as she glanced over his wounds and old scars on his face; one through his eyebrow, and another on his chin.

  Hal grinned. “You bet your ass I did.”

  Beryl’s eyes met Hal’s, and she smiled back, cleaning his busted lip. “Good.”

  She gave him a medjet of something and then worked on his cuts. “You know we’re leaving soon. Don’t get into any trouble. Save it for the run.”

  “Sorry, Beryl.”

  “You’re not sorry,” she said with a motherly grin, gesturing for him to take off his blood-soaked shirt.

  “OK, you’re right.” Hal admitted, pulling the shirt over his head. “Hard to be sorry, when the guy was such a dick.”

  Vivi sat back down but kept an eye on Hal. This was the first time she’d gotten a close look at Hal’s other tattoos. He had different linear designs along his arms and chest. And, of course, there was his vat ID tattoo, a rectangular series of lines and squares stretched across his wrist. There was a long slash along his chest, an injury obviously sustained in the fight.

  “The guy who attacked you had a knife?” Vivi asked.

  “Yeah,” Hal said, glancing to her. His pupils were huge; his normally blue eyes had practically turned black. It was a little unsettling. He made her nervous with the way he seemed so hyped up after a brawl, as if violence was second nature to him. Which she supposed it was, now that she thought about it.

  “What were you fighting over?” Beryl asked, cleaning his wounds.

  “Quad game. Guy said the Bels were a better team than the Navs.”

  Beryl punched him hard in the arm. “What the hell, Hal? That’s the hill you’re going to die on?”

  Hal shrugged. “Everybody’s gotta die for something, right?”

  “Everybody knows the Streaks are the best anyway,” Beryl said under her breath, raising an eyebrow as she shot Ty a grin.

  “HEY!” Hal sat up straighter. “Get the hell off my ship.”

  “That’s our ship,” Ty corrected.

  “Just kidding.” Beryl laughed as she finished up.

  “I like the Navs too,” Vivi ventured quietly.

  “See, at least someone has good sense around here,” Hal said, gesturing to Vivi.

  “Listen, Hal.” When his eyes were focused on Beryl, she continued. “These cuts are pretty deep, so take it easy on them for the next two days. No sparring, OK?”

  Hal nodded, then watched Beryl pinch together the edges of the deep oozing wound on his chest until the adhesive set.

  Vivi kept watching Hal. He hadn’t flinched or shown any signs of being in pain as Beryl worked on him. She’d heard vats didn’t have nerves at all, but she was sure that couldn’t be true. She was finding that Hal was a mass of contradictions in a lot of ways. Sometimes he seemed to not care about anything, but when it came to the crew, he was protective to the point of violence.

  Just last week, they’d been coming through a crowded spaceport when a guy, obviously drunk due to celebrating the New Year, grabbed her ass. It had taken everything Tyce had to pull Hal off the guy. Even though he’d been protecting her, seeing Hal’s sudden violence had made her anxious around him. She realized her time with Noah was to blame, but it still didn’t make her feel any less on edge to know that.

  She found herself wondering what Hal’s story was. She had already picked up on a lot about him; it was obvious that he and Captain Bernon were close, like brothers, and that Tyce seemed to be the only person who could bring Hal back from the brink.

  It also seemed that Hal thought she needed a lot of looking after – especially in spacedock. He would go with her off the ship each time she left, giving her some pretense or another. She never called him on it. In some ways, it made her feel safer too, despite being nervous around him. Her uncle, who had been in the ACAS, always said that vats were protective of their officers. Maybe that’s why Hal was keeping an eye on her; Tyce had probably told him to.

  Ty pulled her from her thoughts when he sat down beside her, scrolling through his datapad. “As soon as I can talk to Fortenot, I should be getting the new permit from LanTech, then we’re on our way.”

  She now knew that the permit would make sure they could pass the Border unchallenged by the ACAS. It would also outline what kinds of AI artifacts LanTech was sending them out for. If they found anything else while they were out there, well, that would belong to them. But first, they had to play the waiting game.

  “I can use the extra t
ime to work on that hesitation in the Loshad’s drive,” Vivi said.

  “And I’ll resupply the ship,” Beryl said.

  “Whatever we do, just keep a low profile.” Ty glanced at Hal. “Low profile, Hal, OK?”

  “Got it,” Hal promised.

  Ty nodded slowly. “You should all get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Hal opened his eyes in the watery glow of the night cycle in his room. He was sitting up, his gaze focused on the opposite wall as he returned to consciousness.

  He could smell blood; his mouth was dry and tasted rusty. The dream of the medbay he’d been in faded away. He looked around the darkened room. The shadows seemed unfamiliar and strange. Ty was hurt. Was that then or was it now? He couldn’t remember; it was all a jumble.

  He got up from the bed and tugged on a shirt before making his way to Ty’s room. A growing unease began to throb like a heartbeat in his brain.

  A beeping woke Ty in the middle of the night. It was the low, insistent noise of a special alarm that he had set; an alarm that meant Hal wasn’t sleeping well again.

  Ty got up and made his way throughout the dark ship, first checking the cargo bay, then the back hall near the engine room, and finally the common area and galley.

  The lights were a little brighter in here. Hal was sitting at the table, staring into space.

  “Hal?” he asked gently, afraid of startling his friend.

  Hal raised his eyes to Ty’s and relaxed a little. “Yeah, Cap?”

  “You OK?” He slid into the seat across from him.

  Hal sighed. “Yeah. Bad dreams.” He scratched lightly at the table in front of him.

  “About?”

  “Our time on Bel-Prime. When I was sitting there waiting on you to get back from surgery.”

  “Oh.” Tyce remembered Bel-Prime. During that engagement, Ty and Hal and the rest of the company of vats had been fighting the insurgents who had murdered the vat garrison on the planet during an uprising. There had been an explosion and Ty and Hal had been temporarily separated in the smoke and chaos. Tyce had been flung against a wall and woken up speared with rebar through his left side. If not for Hal finding him and carrying him back to base, he would have bled out on that battlefield.