Junker Blues

  Junker Blues-The Belt

  Junker Blues Series

  Lon E. Varnadore

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Pain slammed into Marcus’ head when exiting the uncalculated the micro-jump. He felt lucky just to be aware and conscious. Micro-jumps were dangerous in and of themselves, tearing through two places in normal space with a singularity engine. And while travel wasn’t instant, it was close to it.

  Marcus hated coming out of a micro-jump on the best of days. Add together a blind micro-jump which was twenty times as dangerous, a partner who’d double-crossed him, an Eridani pissed off with Marcus enough to try to take his slave mark, and no place on Mars safe enough to stay or sell his one prize from his last excursion as a junkologist? Marcus was furious. Alive! He realized, but still furious about everything that had transpired.

  The ebbing ache of the injection to cancel out the drug cocktail to help “bring equilibrium” in a micro-jump only managed to increase the pain in his head. He was surprised that the injection worked at all with the way he’d flung himself into the pilot chair moments before the countdown timer hit zero and the ship initiated a micro-jump from Mars to who knows where.

  His ship…the realization hit him that he’d pulled off his crazy plan, escaped from Grin with the probe and gotten way away made Marcus smirk. “Check, ya peppermint freak.” He hesitated to add “mate.” Too much could go wrong with his ship.

  He caressed the burnished metal with its odd Eridani lines and runes of the pilot console. “At least you have a name…” He then brought up the basic information of the ship and deleted the name that was there and keyed in “Junker Blues.” A reminded of his last ship, Junker with a touch of melancholy.

  Out of habit, his eyes scanned the monitors of the ship—my ship, he reminded himself. The Blues alone was another reason Marcus was in trouble. To one particular Eridani—Grin-Izo49? whom he’d left fuming on Mars. That particular Eridani had tried to get Marcus’ slave-mark. And all that time, lash was working for him? Did h orchestrate the Phobos Incident? Wipe out an entire moon just to get me to trust Lash? All to get control over this? Marcus looked at his thumb as he pondered the last part. There was no mark on the skin at the moment, yet if he waited a week without his own designer meds, a sigil of the Eridani word for “slave” would appear. The flesh would turn black along the thumb, then the hand, and finally the whole forearm. All the while the little nanites in his system would send out signals to any Eridani listening, and there were always Eridani listening, for the signal to capture and return Marcus to his master.

  He tried to remember when he last used the injector. To much ordinum in his system and he’s be like a strung-out junkie. Too little and the burning and pain would grow worse. Not a good time to think about it. Get somewhere at least relatively safe, then worry about the injection.

  There was nothing on the scanners, at least nothing close. A few blips of colonies asteroids within half an AU, yet nothing close. Something still felt off when he looked at the monitors. Wait, was that… He couldn’t put his finger on it. There... Marcus blinked at the screen for a moment thinking he saw something. Nothing. Not sure if it was a ghost image or not, a signal of a colony much closer than the scanners picked up. Marcus had years of training reading Eridani screens as a former slave of theirs, it had been years since he’d had to read them, and he felt like he was missing something out there. And he knew some the tricks the Belters used if a ship like Blues suddenly appeared in their space.

  The ship itself was Eridani-made, that Marcus was sure about. He knew those ships. Blue’s design was…different. The corridors had different angles than Eridani ships, instead they had a more human aesthetic, simple bulkheads without the odd glowing tinged panels. He noticed when he first board Blue’s how the entryway had a human sized gangplank instead of the custom wider ramps for the Eridani cumbersome hoverchairs. Then, he fought Harley and…

  “Slag! Is Harley still here?” Marcus said to himself, the words coming out a little thick. He shook his head trying to clear out the last of the cobwebs caused by the cocktail of jump drugs. He grabbed for the small bulb of water at his hip. It was a part of his suit, used to collect and filtered wastewater and sweat, making it potable through multiple filtrations. He discovered the way he’d sat on the seat—or thrown himself into the seat really—half the water was squeezed out. The deck stained with the water. Already evaporating when he looked down and swallowed dry.

  Well great, he thought as he sucked down the bare mouthful that was left. His other hand fumbled for the release of the partial attached in five-point harness. The water, though stale and warm, helped clear his head enough to move a little faster to get free.

  Freed from the restraints, his legs still shaky from the serum. He knew it would pass. Yet, he wasn’t sure how much longer. His thumb started to flare with pain. He pushed that aside, already marking it as not something he could help at the moment. It wasn’t as bad when Lash was around. And then a horrible thought crossed his mind.

  Was Lash the one causing that pain to spike before?

  He realized that she could have, knowing how the Eridani like to toy with their victims, she was probably given something to break the cycle of the nanites, something to shake off the effects of his own meds to arrest them. A hard realization hit him. What if his serums hadn’t worked at all? What if she was the reason that his nanites never fully activated, I could already be a target! He pushed the thought aside. “No, she didn’t know what I was doing when I was injecting myself with ordinum. I wasn’t always with her when I needed another boost,” he said. In his head, he added, she only found out about what I was using the ordinum for days ago. Days? Feels like it was months ago, he mused while he floated towards the cockpit exit.

  Shoving the thoughts aside, he glided through the cockpit doors. With the deckplating offline it was easy to maneuver. since nothing was on the monitors except Blue was within a 0.45 AU of a few colony asteroids.

  Marcus had more important issues to deal with than something that far away. I need to make sure she’s either gone or I can lock her up in a spare room. Pulling his plasma thrower, he started towards the main entrance of the Blues, where he’d last seen Harley. Dropping during their fight, when he had first been on the ship and Grin had stunned her while aiming for Marcus. Really, Marcus was hit by the blast. Harley took the brunt of it.

  He moved as quietly as he could, not sure if she was still unconscious, or if the micro-jump had helped keep her quiet. The deck plating was coming online; Marcus realized when he felt his feet drawn “down” towards the deck. He braced himself as he settled and crept forward, his legs still rubbery from the meds, though it felt like they were finally wearing off. It was the reason most humans didn’t use jump tech unless they had too. When he was still a junkologist, he’d been forced to use Junker’s singularity engine to ditch a MDF patrol if they were getting to close. The chemicals needed for the pre and post micro-jump drug cocktails were pricey as hell as well. He’d done a jump without their benefit once, during his training in the Martian Defense Force. The training manual was specific, along with getting hit with riot suppress gases, getting hit by stunners, and even th
e occasional rubber bullet; Martian Defense Force cadets had to go into a micro-jump without the chemicals to “keep your equilibrium.” The goal was to give you the experience if the situation ever came up and the good little soldiers would be ready for it.

  It was one of the most painful and surreal experiences of his life. He felt as though his heart was being torn out through his lower back. He lost control of his bowels, as did everyone in the class on the jump. The worst were the visions. The panic inducing visions of the entire universe collapsing in on itself in a cosmic conflagration, then the roiling and twisting rails of coruscating energy crisscrossing around him, forming a hallucinatory terrain of crystal trees with a sun that pulsed in a strange tri-skellion patterns. He pushed the thought away, not wanting to remember it when he saw one of Harley’s legs buck out from behind a bulkhead when he moved along towards the entryway.

  Seeing her leg move pushed Marcus a little faste. He found her in the midst of a seizure. When he approached, her back bowed so much her head and toes creating an arch out of her body jaws clenched tight, fingers clutching like claws. Hey eyes then flicked open, rolling back into her skull, and she let out a shriek of pain before she slammed back to the deck…still as a stone.

  For half a moment, Marcus thought about leaving her there. She did try and kill me more than once. His conscious then got the better of him and he knelt towards her. He checked the pulse at her neck, it was rapid. It started to slow as he touched her. Her eyes snapped open again, head rolling to looked at Marcus with a fierce predatory grin on her face.

  “Gotcha!” She shouted.

  With a sudden surge of speed, she rolled up to a fighting crouch, her right fist squeezed into a fist with a foot-long blade ejecting from above her wrist. All before Marcus could react beyond pulling his thrower to try and get a bead on her.

  “What’s going on?” She hissed, eyes taking in the scene around her with a cool calm efficiency. Her left hand touching the deck, her head tiled, body tensed up like a coiled spring. Her whole being spoke of an intense training that Marcus knew could rip him to shreds.

  “Your boss stunned you, left you to die,” Marcus said. “We then—"

  She stopped. Her head cocked a little more to one side, Marcus could see it. The uncertainty in her eyes. Though, she said, “He would never—"

  Uh huh. Marcus watched the slow dawning realization of what had happened work through her mind. Harley’s eyes flickered back and forth rapidly, as if reading something at great speed. Or her internal scanners are feeding her info of where she is, Marcus thought with a mental shrug. He wondered how much of her was flesh and blood anymore.

  “Why are we so far from Mars? How long was I out?” She asked, giving Marcus a sneer.

  “A single jump?” Marcus was guessing. He had no idea and knew from the reading in the cockpit that they were somewhere in the Asteroid Belt of the Sol System. But even you don’t know if it was one jump or more.

  Harley let out a derisive laugh. “We’re on the edge of Belter Territory, how could we go this far on a single jump?”

  “Well this was your boss’ former vessel, you tell me,” Marcus said. He gave her a small smile. “You know, its ridiculous to hold weapons on each other. We have—“

  “Take me back, at once, Wolflng!” She snarled, body tightening, ready to launch into an attack.

  “That isn’t gonna happen,” Marcus said, finally able to steady himself enough to rise up himself, keeping his thrower aimed squarely at Harley’s chest. “I go back, I die.”

  “You could die right here,” Harley said with the creepy predatory smile again. Her left-hand crackling with a sudden electrical current, a blue nimbus engulfing her hand, making Marcus swallow hard.

  Not good.

  “Attention unknown vessel, this is Beldine Colony. You are violating our living space. Please announce who you are and what your intentions are. Or we will be forced to be openly hostile. You have two minutes, Earth Standard to respond.”

  Chapter Two

  Marcus and Harley locked eyes with each other for a moment.

  “What could they possibly do?” Harley asked, her mouth twisting into a sneer. Seeing Marcus’ face.

  Before Marcus could answer, the Blues rocked violently from side to side. Harley and Marcus were thrown from their feet. Harley was able to catch herself without much trouble. Marcus wasn’t able to recover as quick. He stumbled to one side, falling to his knees.

  Harley smirked at him, shooting her glowing left hand towards him, the crackling of the nimbus making a louder and louder sound. Moments before it struck him in the chest, the anti-gravity plates of the deck went offline. Harley looked at Marcus oddly as she floated upwards away from him, extending her arm expecting to connect with him.

  Realizing what was going on, Marcus shoved his boots down, striking his heels on the deck to activate his magnetic boots. Once attached, he turned and ignoring Harley, running towards the cockpit. He had to find out what was going on to his ship. Though he thought he had an idea already. Harley would survive, either float or have some mod in her that—

  As he thought that, he witnessed she landed sideways on the bulkhead to his left, seeming to pause there a moment. “You are a fool to turn your back on me,” she hissed, mouth too close to his ear.

  Marcus heard the buzzzz of the electric weapon hand arcing towards him as she flicked her hand towards him before leaping the opposite bulkhead a meter away from him. She looked like she was ready to kick off and continue with her attack on him.

  He licked his lips, stopping with a sudden halt. She overcorrected and missed him. “You do realize that even if you kill me, the Beldine colony guys are going to take the ship? You won’t be able to get back to your Master without it,” he said in a rush while taking advantage of her pausing. He passed her without flinching as she clung there as he passed. Listen to reason, woman.

  He felt Harley glared at him for a heartbeat while she flowed form one bulkhead to the next. “Very well,” she said, kicking off the last bulkhead perch, twisting and corkscrewing in the air like an aerial artist, to land in front of him—an arm’s length from the cockpit in front of him. “But, I will be the one to fly this—“

  The ship lurched again Marcus was able to maintain his position this time while Harley almost pitched into the cockpit as it lurched. Hesitantly at first, the Marcus sensed the movement of the ship. She looked at him with a mask of puzzlement. “What was—“

  “They’re pulling us in,” Marcus said. “We need to do something, pilot.” He glared at Harley as she sprang up.

  “We need to fire on them,” Harley said, lunging towards the pilot chair with more grace than Marcus thought possible. She started to push at buttons on the console. “What did you do to the interface?” She shouted while tapping at the display, then slapping the floating icons of the holo interface with more and more anger. “Damn it, what did you do thse controls, Wolflng?”

  “The Commune did that. That inital blast that knocked out the gravity plates and messed up the weapon system consoles. It’s called a pacifier.” Marcus felt a bad memory on the verge of being dragged up and he pushed it away. Not now.

  “A what?” She asked, not looking back. She continued to stab at random icons, twisting knobs and trying to push forward on the throttle, which was jammed and locked in one position. She started to beat at the useless controls and letting out a shout of pure frustration

  Marcus rolled his eyes and made for the co-pilot seat. “A pacifier. The Belt is lousy with them. Raiders use them to disable ships, raid them, and sometimes leave them limping along to the next station.”

  She turned to look at him. “You see to know an awful lot about these things?” She asked, snapping her head towards him with a harsh glare.

  “I was born on the Cusp, psycho. I know about this place more than you would,” he said while slipping into the co-pilot seat’s restraints. “I also know better than to slap at them like you are doing,” he said before H
arley said anything. His eyes already sifting through the garbage of the display, trying to find some pattern to the garbled icons, left in a sorry state before the EMP-like weapons. It didn’t completely shut down a ship. It simply made it harder for the ship to function or escape. Each time he came up with a solution, a different icon appearing, he’d to toss the idea. Slag, this pacifier is good.

  She glared at him for half a second. “Alright, truce. At least until we can get out this situation?” She asked.

  “Fine,” Marcus said. “Stop hitting things.” He realized he’d have to be in the pilot seat for this to even have a slim chance of working. “Switch!”

  She moved out of the way without complaint, which surprised Marcus. Small favors, he thought while she continued to glare at him as she stood up and let him slide into the pilot chair. “Are you aware—"

  “Trying to save us here, Harley. Truce means no immediate threats, alright?” He asked without looking at her, still able to feel the glower she gave him. His eyes flew over the instrument panel, not seeing anything that could help them. Dammit, where is—ah, there! He saw one possible way, if he rerouted the power from the remaining environmental, he might be able to give the engines a little bit more juice. Of course, we’ll freeze and lose consciousness even if it works and we escape, he realized

  “How do you feel about possibly dying of intense cold if it does work?”

  “What?” Harley shouted, turning her head from the growing view of the colony to him.

  “Too late,” Marcus said, tapping in a series of commands that caused the environmentals to shut down. “I’m sure we can get it to work,” he said while routing the power to the engines, trying to push the throttle back a little. The only thing that happened was the engines hiccuped, then he felt a shudder through the throttle controls as the engine went offline completely. “Well, that could have gone better,” Marcus said as he watched the giant asteroid commune swallow them up in darkness of the asteroid.