The Frontier Archives: Series 1 Read online



  The

  Frontier Archives

  Series 1

  Copyright 2014 Dyego Alehandro

  -Table of Contents-

  Introduction

  Siitral Speedster

  Endgame

  Vagabonds

  Torch Angels

  About the Author

  Other books by Dyego Alehandro

  Connect with Dyego Alehandro

  INTRODUCTION

  Welcome to the Frontier Worlds! On the far side of the Milky Way Galaxy a super-cluster of stars proved capable of supporting the Journeymen who escaped Old Earth. The Barons are in control here but they leave the majority of ruling to the Alpha Cartels, who in turn leave day-to-day governing to the sector and planetary governor-generals. Life can be brutal and cruel, but humanity presses on in the endless need to survive. Here and there champions arise to brighten the darkness, whether through art, science, or simple good deeds.

  In these Archives you will find snapshots of the people that make up the universe of the Avarice Dynasty. Few of them are champions and even fewer heroes; they are simply men and women trying to make a living anyway they can.

  These are their stories.

  Siitral Speedster

  Author’s Note

  Every Frontier Archives story will have an Author’s Note that sets the stage for the coming story. Some of them are anecdotes, some are relevant background information, and some simply tell you how to pronounce the crazy words I come up with. None are vitally important but I certainly hope you enjoy reading them.

  The word Siitral (pronounced “Sigh-troll” or “Sigh-trall”) has gone through many meanings in its checkered history. It was the name chosen by James Isaac Newton to call his corporation of engineers and scientists who helped him create the Memphis Stardrive and the massive colony vessels that he hoped would break him free from Baron control. Of course, the Barons sabotaged his rebellion efforts and took over the Journeymen vessels. Ever since that point the word Siitral has essentially become a swear word. It can mean anything from “devil / demon” to “hellish.” The Siitral Trade Route is therefore aptly named, being one of the most difficult shipping routes imaginable. “Stop being such a Siitral!” is a common phrase even in this point of the Frontier Worlds history.

  ▼ ▼ ▼

  The two thugs who stepped from the shadows to block his path could have been inked from the same stamp. They were both short but wide, muscles displayed haughtily to the world through judicious use of short sleeves and fabric cuts. Both had the same nearly-shaved head, both had what they obviously thought were fashionable beards, and each had the same smug look of dominance written all over his face.

  It was the same stamp he’d seen a thousand times before and he knew nearly a thousand ways to handle it. He was feeling amiable today so he settled on one of the gentler methods. As he approached the two men he broke out into a wide smile and nodded at them. “Pleasant day, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Not for long,” they growled. What do you know…they had the same uncultured voice and complete lack of original lines, too. “Give us your money.”

  It was a pleasant day and even these two bruisers hadn’t made a dent in it yet. He decided to try the amiable route for a little longer. He chuckled, still smiling broadly. “I’ll give you boys fair warning. I’m in a good mood right now. Don’t ruin it. You won’t like what happens if you do.”

  They shared a smug glance before returning their attention to this brazen visitor. “Yeah right. Give us your money. Now.”

  “Last warning,” he returned, his smile just starting to fade. “I won’t give another.”

  “Tough guy, huh? Well, let’s see how tough you really are!” They said as they advanced slowly toward him.

  He sighed. They really were from the same stupid stamp. He settled easily into his favored combat stance and let them come to him. Thirty seconds later both men were lying sprawled on the ground completely unconscious.

  The man continued on his way, his hands deep in his pockets. The fools had ruined his good mood and there was only one sure way to fix that. He was already on his way to the bar, but he now made his way there more quickly.

  A rush of cold air followed him as he entered. Most of the patrons ignored this stranger in their midst, but a few curious heads turned his way before dismissing his presence. He smiled slightly. He liked it that way. He had known far too many comrades who had given themselves over to flashy garb, radical haircuts, huge tattoos or other such nonsense. They had all died as a result their arrogance. Most in this business never found the peace that was retirement and then a cozy coffin six feet under; they were random particles floating through the blackness of space. Not him. He planned to enjoy his declining years when they came.

  He found a vacant stool at the bar and maneuvered his two-hundred-odd-pounds onto it. The bartender was making a show of polishing a glass but it was obvious he’d been watching the stranger the whole time. Still feeling cheated of his good mood, the stranger wasn’t about to wait for pretense. “If you wash that glass any more you won’t have a glass left, barkeep. I want a Vyt Bender, rocks, double rum.”

  The bartender, who probably outweighed him by half, placed the glass down and planted his huge hands on the counter. “Spiced, DravAsian, or dark?” he asked, his tone brusque.

  His mood perked up immediately. Spiced rum? Here? Most bartenders didn’t even know that spiced rum existed ever since the DravAsian Province had made their particular rums so popular. “What kind of spiced do you have?” he asked, his earlier petulance gone.

  The bartender lost his frown, recognizing a fellow spice enthusiast. “Only have Hectar and Juggler-Ross, I’m afraid.”

  “Hectar will do nicely, and thanks.”

  The bartender grunted and immediately turned to start mixing the drink. Once again the stranger felt his mood rising. It was nice to see a bartender mixing his own drinks. Most had turned to the convenience and speed of Foodtiers. While compressed food was just fine there were times when only the real stuff would do. This was one of those times.

  The bartender returned with the Vyt Bender and it was perfectly silver. Excellent. He looked at the menu and pulled out the appropriate amount of triangular ‘Rins. He added a sizable tip and slid it over to the bartender. “Name’s Jurvos.”

  “Carter,” the bartender grunted. “What brings you to Javiville?”

  Jurvos casually spun a fifty-‘Rin chip around his fingers. “Looking for cargo. Know anyplace where I can find some?”

  Carter glanced at the coin before looking Jurvos straight in the eye. “Clean or not?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, whatever’s for the taking,” he answered before carefully placing the coin on the bar top.

  “Talk to Xun. She runs Xundry Goods, five minutes north. Looks like a crashed ship and probably is.”

  “Much obliged,” Jurvos said before finishing off his drink. He placed the empty mug on the coin and moved it toward the bartender. He nodded and left as quietly as he had come.

  The streets of Javiville were desolate during winter; the area was rather famous for its freezing temperatures and its ice storms. Jurvos liked it this way, both the solitude and the cold. He liked heat as well, but he’d spent the early years of his career stuck in a jungle with no way out. These days he liked a nice brisk air.

  He spotted the building that housed Xundry Goods at least three minutes before he would be able to read the sign and smiled to himself. The bartender had been right: it was indeed a crashed ship. A very interesting thing to turn into a shop, certainly unique in his travels, and he decided he liked this Xun character already.

  He entered the shop th
rough what was obviously a melted hatchway and stood for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting within. Due to the angle at which the ship lay the lines of the place could certainly give one a headache, but the only lighting came from a string of electrics that were tacked onto walls and ceilings, casting shadows that distracted from the disorienting architecture.

  "You want something?" a voice called from the darkness.

  Unable to quite see the owner of the voice, Jurvos bowed slightly in the direction it had come from. "Merely an independent shipper interested in acquiring materials for an interstellar trip. Carter suggested your place."

  Jurvos distinctly heard a snort. "What did you do, tip him less than a hundred?"

  He saw no reason to tell less than the truth. "For the information? Half that. Added a sizable tip for the drink, though, so it would come out to just above one hundred. Why would that matter?"

  "Oh it usually doesn't," the voice continued, coming closer. "Carter is a strange one. Anyway, what kind of merchandise you interested in?"

  Jurvos hesitated. The proprietor had finally made herself visible at the last part of that sentence and he was momentarily taken aback. He wouldn't say she was stunning, or even strikingly beautiful, but she was far better looking than anyone running a chop shop had any right to be.

  His hesitation must have been apparent because she glowered at him. "What, not used to a pretty girl working in a dive like this?" she challenged, her hand on her hip near what looked like a pistol.

  Trying to think of something to say, he let his eyes roam around the room. "Sentinel, Barb Four class," he stated, naming the type of vessel the shop was in.

  "Good eye," she stated flatly, still glowering. "Now answer the question."

  He turned back to look at her, realizing that she wasn't the type to let something like this go. Probably dealt with too many idiots and was quick on the temper. And possibly the trigger finger, too. He shrugged.

  "In all honesty, yes. In my experience chop shops are run by the dirtiest and grungiest of characters, as that seems to go with the territory. A bit of a prejudice, perhaps, and one that I have become accustomed to. My apologies if I've offended you."

  She seemed to mellow a bit at his apology, taking her hand off her hip. But there was still a hard edge to her eyes as she moved behind a scarred counter and leaned over it. "What are you interested in?"

  He strolled casually over to the counter and pulled out his Pertier. It was a pretty basic model, but he'd upgraded it for shipping computations and other calculations. He checked his schedule.

  "I'm on my way to Stanza Eight. If you have any Mantroc, I'd be willing to unload it."

  He had said it casually of course, and he was making a good show of studying his schedule, but he was watching her closely. Her eyes narrowed, and he smiled inwardly, wondering which part she had reacted to. Mantroc was a memory-metal that was the most outrageously expensive trade goods anywhere... and it was illegal to sell privately on any of the Stanza worlds.

  "Mantroc isn't among the goods I sell here," she said carefully. "Not enough of a market pull in these parts."

  He nodded, making a small notation on his list. She was probably right, after all... Mantroc didn't perform up to standard in cold conditions unless it went through a treatment process that made it worth more than most cities made in a year.

  "How about Glyveron?" he asked just as casually, this time actually looking at her. Glyveron was a ubiquitous oil that was in demand just about anywhere... and it also was illegal on the Stanza worlds.

  There was another narrowing of her eyes, this one far harder to detect, but it was there. Smiling again privately, he had managed to peg it. She was good: she knew the business well enough to know the black market. That was a very handy feature in a chop shop contact.

  "Plenty of Glyveron," she stated, "but there's not that much profit to be made shipping it around. For an inner world cluster like the Stanzas, you'd be better off with high-ticket luxuries like diamonds or gold."

  She was even sharper than he'd given her credit for. "You're right, of course! I'd like to buy some diamonds... and some Glyveron. Never know where you can unload that oil."

  She lost her smile completely, her eyes on fire. "You a cop or something? If so, you can just invite yourself right out of my shop."

  He took a small step backwards, not entirely unsurprised. He'd been accused of being an officer on several occasions. Usually with just as much indignation.

  "I assure you that I am nothing of the sort. As I said earlier, I am an independent shipper, always looking for a good deal."

  She stared at him for a long moment, obviously ready to kick him out anyway. After letting out a big sigh, however, her expression relented.

  "How much of each would you like?"

  From an inside pocket of his jacket Jurvos pulled clips of large denomination coins. "That depends entirely on how much they cost. Per Class 5 Crate."

  "Class 5? Heavy hauler, eh?"

  He smiled broadly. "But of course."

  She jabbed her finger into what looked like a bullet-hole and a Comptier screen rose from hiding. She glanced at it for a minute.

  "I have twenty crates of Glyveron that I'll let go at five hundred each, eight crates of diamonds that will run you twenty-five hundred each, and also five crates of gold that are just shy of worthless here, and I'll let you have them for a straight thousand each."

  Jurvos double checked his coins for a minute while doing some mental calculation. He would be able to make more than quadruple on the Glyveron, but the other two would depend entirely on the day he went to market.

  "I'll take them all," he declared, willing to take a gamble on it. That was, after all, the name of the game. "Here's thirty-five thousand."

  He had already slipped the entire amount into money clips and he placed them on the counter, sliding them slightly toward her.

  She glanced at the clips before smiling. "Xun Saht. Welcome to Xundry Goods."

  Jurvos couldn’t help but grin. "Jurvos. Aren't you supposed to do that when people walk in?" he asked.

  She shrugged and tossed her long black hair over her shoulders. "Never know what kind of people are coming in."

  "Point. Delivery?"

  "All local space ports, and pickup."

  He raised an eyebrow, looking around the place. "You can handle thirty-three crates of goods?"

  She smiled mischievously. "Trade secret. When do you want it?"

  He glanced at the time displayed on his Pertier. No time like the present, his father had always told him. "As soon as possible. I'm docked at the Nibunea Dream. Spinster's Wheel is my ship."

  "I'll have it delivered in less than an hour. Anything else I can help you with?"

  He shook his head and gave her one of his famous smiles. "Afraid not, but I must say that it was a pleasure doing business with you, Xun."

  Her eyes might have twinkled; he couldn't tell. "Likewise, Jurvos. Don't hesitate to drop by when you're in the area. I'll throw in a discount for repeat business."

  They finished their farewells and Jurvos walked slowly along the streets toward the space port, entertaining thoughts he had no business thinking. He still had too many years to run the trade routes before he retired, and marriage was the equivalent of retirement in this business. But if she knew the business as well as he...

  He shook his head violently and turned his attention to the skies. The sun had disappeared behind thick clouds while he had been inside and the wind had died down. White crystals of ice were beginning to float toward the ground, their tranquil descent almost hypnotic. The temperature was dropping rapidly, but he didn't mind. The Vyt Bender was still warm in his stomach, and the image of an attractive smuggler was warm in his thoughts as he trudged along the still deserted streets.

  Turning down a side road he made his way to the space port. It was the matter of a few minutes to make it to the port, through the security, and into his freighter. This week it
was Spinster's Web, but he had bought it as the Yonder Yearning and still privately referred to it as his Double Why. Both names were fitting. He was always yearning for things out yonder...and he always asked himself why.

  That was a question he really needed to ask himself right now. Why was he suddenly thinking thoughts of companionship? Sure, Xun Saht was good-looking, verging on the beautiful, but he'd seen hundreds of women of equal or greater attractiveness in his travels through the stars. Maybe it was her obvious toughness and the level at which she was familiar with the darker side of shipping. That was certainly a new combination in his travels. He'd met female smugglers, of course, but none who had the looks along with the brains. He tended to avoid congregating with his kind, but lately he’d been tempted to just settle down somewhere and relax with someone. Xun had reawakened that temptation.

  A beep from his CommuniCator told him a message was incoming. He accepted it, heard a robotic voice inform him that it was here for Xundry Goods delivery, and pressed the button that deactivated the cargo hold security. Heaving himself out of the comfortable chair where he spent most of his life he made his way to the cargo hold.

  He smiled when he got there. Trade secret my eye, he thought, amused. It was a VreeSled, a robotic cargo hauler that cost more than his ship. Apparently, Xun did well for herself.

  Twenty or so minutes later all the crates had been stacked, and Jurvos spent the next couple of hours rearranging the contents. He'd almost always been able to slip onto a planet without getting his cargo searched, but there was nothing ever wrong with having a backup plan.

  With everything out of the way and ready, Jurvos sat down once again in the captain's chair and started up the engines. He was strangely reluctant to make the call to the space port and announce his intention to depart. The face of Xun flashed in front of his eyes and he shook his head. Getting soft, he mused. With resolve he punched the 'Cator button and in five minutes he was floating above the city of Javiville. For one full minute his attention wavered between the now rapidly falling snow and the silhouette of a certain crashed Sentinel Barb Four.

  But with another sharp shake of his head he dislodged the crazy thoughts that had been swirling through his mind and he oriented his ship for space.

  The sale couldn't have gone better. With a maximum of looking over his shoulder and a minimum of problems he ended up leaving Stanza Eight with twenty-five crates of Titanium, which was heavily in demand for building, and a pile of extra 'Rins amounting to just short of thirteen thousand... after expenses. He had been edgy the whole time, though. Nervous... or something. He'd thought maybe he was being watched, but that hadn't been it.

  It had to be the girl, he decided as he burned Patrinium for orbit around Stanza Eight. She'd entered his thoughts every single day of the trip, and not just once or twice a day either. For some reason he couldn't get her out of his mind. He resolved to visit small Javiville on out-of-the-way Uuranda, and offer to buy one Xun Saht a drink or more at Carter's place.

  As such he put in the proper coordinates and sat back, more pleasant thoughts in his mind.

  There was a blanket of snow on the ground and a heavy layer of clouds sitting low in the sky. Letting his coat hang open and enjoying the biting cold, Jurvos smiled up at the dimly lit clouds. They threatened to add even more inches to the icy piles below.

  His hands deep in his pockets he walked slowly toward a building with a very unique outline. Smiling softly, fully aware of how much of a fool he was being, he entered the shop.

  "Well, look what the storm blew in!" a cheerful voice called out from the darkness. A pair of bright lights switched on, and Jurvos looked around in amazement at all of the details he hadn't been able to see before.

  But the ship only held his attention for a few seconds. Turning back to the counter, he smiled broadly at Xun. "I always come in with the cold," he said, risking a wink.

  With the added lighting he could see her eyes twinkle. She was dressed in a spacer jumpsuit that would have detracted from nearly anyone's beauty, but on her it seemed to only add to her image. An image that he'd become quite fond of, lately.

  "Was wondering if you were free for a drink," he continued, walking over and leaning on the counter.

  She switched position to lean on the counter as well, looking closely at him. "I get asked that question by just about every spacer, trucker, and smuggler who comes in here. You're the first one to wait for your second visit to ask."

  He shrugged, his stomach acting oddly. Was this what the so-called 'butterflies' felt like? It was a new sensation. Very strange. "Well if you're not free for a drink I hope you're free for some business. I have some goods to unload and plenty of 'Rins to spend on another load."

  "Business first my mother always said. What have you got to unload?"

  "Titanium."

  Her eyes widened slightly and he knew he'd chosen the right place to bring it. Javiville was on the verge of expanding its borders but there was a severe lack of building materials. If she got a hold of titanium she'd make a killing in the construction market.

  "How much do you have?" she asked eagerly, her professional exterior cracking a little in her excitement.

  He looked around at the ceiling, pretending to try to remember. Her eyes narrowed a bit but a smile creased her face. After a moment he snapped his fingers. "That's right. Twenty-five crates."

  She chuckled. "Well, Jurvos, I can definitely find a use for that. Perhaps you'd be interested in bartering for some Caxil? I got a new shipment just yesterday. Market conditions are wonderful in the Anvay system right now."

  She was right, of course. He would be able to sell Caxil for an absolute huge profit, and the planet Guuuv Legii was nearby. He'd be able to sample their galaxy-famous drink list again, as well as visit the Poseidon Shipyards and get his ship some upgrades. "Sounds like a deal," he said suddenly, smiling.

  It took half an hour to hammer out a deal that worked to both of their advantages. Jurvos unloaded all twenty-five crates of his titanium in exchange for five hundred crates of Caxil and a few thousand 'Rins on top.

  Xun accompanied her VreeSled to the Neverland, Jurvos' name for the ship this time around. She helped load the cargo, chatting almost nonstop about the local and distant market fluctuations. Jurvos found himself enjoying the conversation immensely. He was used to being alone; in fact he found it uncomfortable to be around anyone for too long.

  But he liked this. She was smart, she was attractive, and she knew the market almost as well as he did.

  When they were done loading she accepted his invitation to a drink. The only really good spot to drink around here, she explained, was back at Carter's place. So they made their way through the falling snow and enjoyed a couple of drinks together, him another Vyt Bender and her a rather exotic Saucanay Rim.

  He walked her back to her shop, promised to visit again soon, and made his way slowly back to the Neverland, a very warm and contented feeling swirling about him. If he kept this up his life would be very different soon, but for some reason the prospect didn't scare him.

  Getting clearance from the spaceport he headed for deep space, his monitors and mind squarely focused on Xundry Goods. Taking a deep breath, he entered in the coordinates for Anvay and went into his cabin to rest.

  Another flawless day in the black markets netted him fifty crates of Sparklenic, a drug that he didn't normally get his hands on. He would end his current run at Guuuv Legii with a combined net profit of just under three hundred thousand 'Rins. It was one of his better runs, and it was a week shorter than usual, thanks in part to the assistance of lovely Xun. He'd upgrade his ship at Poseidon and still have a load of Sparklenic and plenty of leftover 'Rins in case he caught a bad trend in the market. He plotted out just what he'd need to upgrade as he calculated the least expensive trip to the nearby luxury planet.

  He was so preoccupied that he didn't even notice the Predator-class Star Cruiser coming up behind him until it was too late. Only the tell-tal
e shriek of a dozer shot rocked him from his planning.

  His 'Cator burst with static, indicating his antagonists were breeching the call-waiting system, and he used the time to frantically press buttons on his command console. Damage diagnostics... yes, they'd only used a dozer shot. Would put most ships' engines under for at least twenty minutes, but his wasn't an ordinary craft. He set up the coordinates for a quick escape. Swiveling in his chair he turned to another console just as a voice burst from his speakers.

  "Freighter Neverland, you are ordered to power down your systems fully and prepare to be boarded."

  He glanced at his displays and swore. There was no way he would be able to overcome the effects of a dozer shot in the time it took the Predator to overtake him. Might as well try bluffing and see if he could shave the time schedule down a bit.

  He tapped the speech button and put as much belligerence and self-righteousness into his voice as possible. "On whose authority are you doing this, bloody scumbag? I'll have you know I don't take kindly to pirates."

  The same voice replied. "This is Captain Deved of the Anti-Smuggler Patrol Cruiser SnakeBite. Under the authority of the Cartel Discrepancy Outfit, the Barons, and the local Alpha Cartel IronClads, you are ordered to shut down your ship and prepare to be boarded."

  Jurvos swore again. The ASP was almost as widespread as the CDO. Even the Alpha Cartels didn't like people shipping stuff through their embargoes, and the ASP had total authority in the realm of smuggler hunting. He ran through a few more tricks to try and speed up the repair process his ship systems were currently trying to undergo. It didn't do any good. More bluffing.

  "Under what charges or suspicions?"

  There was an audible sigh. "If it's from the ASP, you know very well what the charge is. Shut down your ship now or we'll do it for you. In a more permanent manner."

  He couldn't afford for them to do that. Thankfully, with this ship he always had one excuse that never failed. Maybe, just maybe, he could get out of this one alive and free.

  "I can't," he snapped, actual anger seeping into his voice this time. "This is a Calwest Klickster-class freighter. Do you know what happens when a dozer shot hits the engines of a Klickster?"

  There was silence for a few seconds, a few precious seconds that cut down his timer. It was common knowledge about the feedback surge in Klickster vessels that would disable the ship's ability to control its own systems. What wasn't common knowledge, even to sleuths and snoopers like the ASP, was that there was an extremely expensive and undetectable way around it. The Double Why, of course, had undergone that retrofit eighteen years ago.

  Before the counter could run down even to the mid triple digits he knew he was out of time.

  "Prepare to be boarded anyway. Starboard hatch... and we know full well you can manually open it. See that you do."

  The 'Cator popped, indicating the connection had been cut, and Jurvos sighed. He gazed at his rearview monitor and watched as the SnakeBite expertly moved in to dock. He tapped the appropriate button and the starboard hatch was opened. They'd equalize the pressure before moving over and he had several ways of taking advantage of that against pirates... but against an ASP ship he'd better not. There was still the chance he'd be able to bluff his way completely out of this, keep fifty crates of sparklenic and stay the nank out of a prison cell.

  The docking procedure cut down the timer considerably, but he was past that point at the moment. He heard footsteps in the hallway and heaved himself out of his chair. He was standing innocently with his arms clasped in front of him when the door to the cockpit was opened.

  One officer with an immaculately clean white and orange uniform and two guards in full black strode into the cockpit as if they owned it. The officer was tall, at least six and a half feet, and very thin. He was also old. But his voice matched that of Captain Deved from earlier, and it had even more power in person.

  "Jurvos Rafiel in person," the Captain stated almost casually and Jurvos twitched as if he'd been stung.

  They know who I am, he thought, his hopes of bluffing lowering quite a few notches.

  "Never thought I'd meet the famous Siitral Speedster, let alone be the one to bring him in," Deved continued, almost smiling.

  "My exploits are highly exaggerated and none can be proven anyway," Jurvos stated between stiff lips. He decided to try and bluff, just in case. "What makes you think I’m not on an honest trip?"

  Almost before the words were out of his mouth a fourth person entered the cabin, and Jurvos’ heart sank to his toes, all hope vanishing completely. The face that had haunted him for the last week and a half was right there, smiling sardonically at him from atop a white uniform.

  "So you're saying we won't find any leftover Caxil in your cargo hold?" Xun Saht asked, her voice almost as casual as her captain's.

  Jurvos took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. Despite his best intentions he'd made a name for himself over the long years he'd been smuggling. As the air left him slowly so did the springy resolve that had kept him going. It's over, he thought in shock. It's all over.

  They saw it on his face, too. No words were spoken as the two guards moved over to flank him. Xun looked almost sorry and for a minute it also looked like she going to say something, but her mouth stayed shut.

  They were almost through the hatch when he finally snapped. Somehow every ounce of courage he'd ever had welled up in one final act of defiance. With a speed that surprised even him he leapt back between and behind the guards into his own ship and in the same motion threw them through the corridor in front of him. Before anybody could even shout he'd punched a button on his side of the corridor. The hatch closed shut with a gratifying clang and he ran into the hallway. Once there he jabbed two more buttons but didn't wait around to see the blast doors close.

  They're not going to get me! They can't get me. They can't get me, he chanted to himself over and over as he sprinted into the cockpit. Time was short. It would take them at least five minutes to burn through the blast doors, but they might not even bother to do that.

  They might just blow him out of the sky.

  A running jump brought him successfully but painfully into his chair and he noticed with gratification that the timer had counted down to zero. Flipping a large green switch he felt a jolt as the engines came back online. His hands darted over the controls for a few seconds as he made sure everything was in place. Finally, he grabbed the flight stick and wrenched it to the side.

  A terrific tearing noise accompanied the shudder that meant he'd disengaged violently from the SnakeBite. With no time to lose he tapped an intricate series of buttons on his weapons console.

  The roar from the Flash missile was even louder but he didn’t flinch. Flash missiles were the space equivalent of Flash Bangs and their construction caused painful sound waves to reverberate the length of starship hulls.

  It was the perfect diversion and three buttons later he was speeding through hyperspace. His hands were shaking, sweat was dripping off his forehead and down his back and his breathing was labored.

  Exactly three minutes after entering hyperspace his ship reverted to normal travel and he took a deep breath. He'd made it.

  As he slowly keyed in the coordinates for a new destination his mind flashed back to Xun. She might have been clear of the corridor when he'd escaped. If not, she'd been exposed to explosive vacuum. He felt a sharp pain for one full minute as his mind wandered over the possibilities and the might-have-beens. She would have made a lovely companion. If she was still alive she would make a dangerous opponent.

  Typing in the final bit of coordinates, he shrugged. He was the Siitral Speedster. He never stayed long in any one place.

  Not even love.

  With a flare of engine light he disappeared into the stars.

  Endgame

  Author’s Note

  Cards may have changed names in the Frontier Worlds but their function hasn’t. Poker and blackjack are two of the most popular games th
at have survived from Old Earth history and they are played regularly by amateurs and professionals alike. 109 years after the Landing a man by the name of Wendall Staff changed the suits to their current form. He also invented seventeen new gambling games; he was extremely bored. The Treaty of Seven, which ended the First Cartel War, standardized ranks and medals, and that led to a changing of the face cards. The Barons forced another change with the Treaty of Six and instituted themselves as the highest face card. By far the most popular poker variant is Mercs, which is loosely based on Texas Hold’em. Here is a list of the new face cards, suits, and hands of poker.

  Hand Ranks: Alpha Link (Royal Flush), Chain Link (Straight Flush), Quad (4 of a kind), Broadside (Full House), Link (Flush), Chain(Straight), Triple(3 of a kind), Double Duo (Two Pair), Duo (Pair)

  Card Suits: Shivs (Spades), Patriniums (Diamonds), Cores (Hearts), Dupes (Clubs)

  Face Cards: Baron (Ace), Kingpin (King), Crimelord (Queen), Hitman (Jack)