Resurgence Read online

  "Me?" she retorted skeptically. “Captain?”

  "And, when the mission is over, the ship is yours to do with as you see fit."

  "No strings attached?"

  "Free and clear. I’ve spoken to some friends on the trade council. They’ve agreed to reinstate your license for a limited time so you could see this mission through. If you succeed, the temporary restrictions will be lifted, and the judgment levied against you at your trial will be pardoned. That’s the best I can offer you.”

  "But only if I agree to help you, that is."

  He reached for the door and opened it. "Otherwise you can keep the fifteen-thousand credits and do as you wish. My debt to your father has been paid in full. But, I fear that without action on our part, and soon, a lot of people in this sector are going to suffer, to say nothing about the families grieving over those on the missing ships. I’m offering you a chance, Kristin, to relieve both their anguish and perhaps some of your own. Think about it." He stepped through the doorway and began to close it when he was stopped by her words.

  Kristin wished she were more skilled at politics. She’d have come up with a better response. "And if I accept?"

  "There's a man named Alasdair Pryce," Riddle replied as he withdrew an old pipe from his pocket and lit it. "You'll find him at the Miss Jump Lounge in Lower East Celebury. The rest of the team should be there, too."

  The words were out before she could think about them. "If I do this… I do it for Bobby, not for you, and I do things my way. My ship—my rules."

  "Of course," he answered with a smile. "You’re the captain. There's just one more detail you'll need to work out. It'll involve something you don't want to do. Something that goes against everything I know you are. But, if it's reprisal you're after, you're going to have to learn it's a game that will require you to get your hands dirty."

  "And that is?"

  "This assignment is unauthorized, strictly off the books. That means the local security force isn't just going to give you the Cobalt Rose. You're going to have to steal her."

  Chapter 3

  The Miss Jump Lounge in Lower East Celebury looked for all intents like any other louse-ridden spacer bar Kristin had frequented during her days as a freight hauler. The interior was circular in shape, a dimly lit chamber with crisscrossing lines of blue and purple neon beams affixed to the walls and ceiling. Synthetic music echoed from unseen speakers as a genderless figure gyrated inside an acrylic tube atop a wide, horseshoe-shaped bar. There were perhaps a hundred people in a room big enough for twice that many patrons. Some were at tables, others seated at the bar, while still others—aliens and humanoids alike—comingled in an ill-defined sea of mumbled whispers punctuated by sporadic belts of laughter. Drinks were overturned, harsh words were exchanged, weapons were drawn and holstered, and the laughter continued.

  Criminals. It was a den of criminals. The likes of which Kristin had abhorred her whole life. And now, despite everything contrary to who she was, she was destined to become one.

  In the end, she didn’t give it a second thought. The people who did this to Bobby are going to pay, and I’m going to be there to collect the check.

  She had no idea what Alasdair Pryce looked like, but he was her only contact to this point. Deciding on the most direct route, she stepped to the bar, ordered a drink, and loudly asked the unkempt barkeep where she could find him. He nodded over her shoulder, a move that caused all three of his chins to wobble like gelatin. Kristin followed his gaze to see a human male slouched over a table on the far side of the lounge.

  He was an average looking fellow, with a heavy leather jacket festooned with patches from various ships and routes he’d been assigned—most unfamiliar to her save for one or two. His arms were folded flat on the tabletop, his chin resting on his left wrist while he appeared to be engaged in a staring contest with a half-full glass of alcohol.

  “Alasdair Pryce?” she asked loudly over the din of the music as she neared the table.

  “You’re breaking my concentration,” he replied evenly, not bothering to look up.

  “How can you concentrate in a place like this?” she’d shouted over the music—if one could call it that.

  “Takes a bit of practice, but eventually you can block out the unwanted interruptions.”

  Kristin got the distinct impression he was talking about her. “My name is—”

  “Kristin Glasco. Yes, I know.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked after Alasdair resumed his previous engagement.

  “Telekinesis.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  “Not in humans.” He finally stirred, looking up to her for the first time. “But, have you ever heard of the Singing Syphants of Elenas VII? It’s said that their songs can levitate objects.”

  She dismissed the fantasy with a wave of her hand. “They’re a myth.”

  He scowled, then returned his attention to his drink. “Are you always this much of a downer?”

  “It hasn’t been a good week.”

  “Look around, love. It hasn’t been a good week for anyone here. That’s why we’re drinking.”

  “Well, my brother died and I got fired from the only job I ever loved… all in the same week. So I doubt it’s been worse for anyone else in here than it has for me.”

  “I know that, too.” Reaching for the drink, Alasdair sat back and hoisted it to the air in a toast. “To Bobby. As good a friend as I ever knew.” He then downed the contents in a single gulp.

  Pryce didn’t look at all like the kind of person her brother would typically associate with. “So, you knew him?”

  Alasdair smiled at the tabletop, no doubt reliving some fond memory. “Your brother said I was the biggest bastard he ever met.” He then turned to look at her. “Multiple times… a day. He also said, on more than one occasion, that I reminded him a lot of you.” He beamed in apparent self-satisfaction. “Yeah, we were friends.”

  Without waiting for an offer, Kristin took the nearest empty seat. “Did you know him long?”

  Alasdair pursed his lips as if he were trying to recall the exact moment he’d met the man. “I knew him longer than most, but less than others.”

  “Vague.”

  “Sorry, love,” he offered unapologetically. “Comes with the badge, I suppose.”

  “You know how he died.”

  He nodded slowly. “Shuttle accident a few days ago.” His tone personified that he was far from convinced.

  “You don’t believe it?”

  Now a head shake. “Not for a hot minute.”

  “And you know what I’ve been asked to do about it?”

  “Damn foolish idea, if you’re asking my advice on the matter.” A waitress deposited another drink on the table. “Bless you, my dear,” Pryce offered to the olive-skinned waitress before she departed, palms held together in prayer.

  Kristin decided to cut to the chase. “I was told you had information on a ship. One that I’ve been promised—”

  “It’s currently under lock and key. I can’t even get near it.” Pryce downed his drink.

  “Are you finished?”

  His expression went blank as he dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Let’s find out.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a wallet and laid his credits out on the table. “I think I have enough for at least three more rounds. So no, I’m not finished.” He waved his finger over his head, signaling to the nearest waitress, then let his gaze wander freely over Kristin’s form. “I don’t see anything in you that even remotely resembles me, so I have no idea why Bobby would ever make that comparison between us.”

  “Maybe it’s difficult for you because one of us is sober.”

  “Well, we can certainly fix that.”

  He was about to signal the waitress again when Kristin reached across the divide, grabbing the jockey by his jacket with both hands and pulled him closer to her. “Listen here you… you bastard. I’m going to find out who killed my brother, and I�
��m going to get paid, and then I’m going to get the hell out of this system. And you’re going to sober up and help me one way or another, or you’re going to regret it. Is that easy enough for you to understand, or should I use smaller sentences?”

  If Alasdair was surprised by the maneuver, it didn’t show on his face. “Of course I’m going to help you,” he said as he flashed a smile. “Bobby was a good friend, almost like a brother to me.”

  She released his jacket and Pryce fell back to his seat. “Well, he was my brother. And he never mentioned you.”

  “Then I have you at a disadvantage because honestly, he wouldn’t shut up about you sometimes. He’d go on and on… Kristin this and Kristin that. You were some kind of goody-two-shoes superwoman to him.”

  If anyone was superior, Kristin never thought it was herself. “You must be thinking of someone else. We were close, but I was always the one looking up.” The waitress then deposited two drinks, but Kristin wasn’t sure if they were to be shared or if they were the sole ownership of Alasdair Pryce. “Nevertheless, I’ve got a job to do, and that means I need a ship—a ship you have information on. So, if you’ll give it to me, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Whoa-ho, love,” Alasdair said with a grand wave of his hand. “We can’t go anywhere yet, not now or in the near future.”

  “Because you need to drink more? Please.”

  “Not at all. See, the Cobalt Rose needs a crew of five to get her off the ground. Five. A captain,” he said as he pointed at her, “a first officer,” he added, turning the finger toward himself, “an engineer, an environmental control officer, and a weapon’s officer. It’d be nice to have someone who knows something about first-aid as well, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Who said anything about you being my first officer?”

  “I did,” he replied with satisfaction, “and I would be correct. As far as the rest of the crew, that’s why we’re meeting at this abhorrent place and not a more reputable establishment. This is where we find the best crewmembers who know not to ask questions and don’t expect to have questions asked about them. Granted, a specialized team has been assembled for this particular foray, though I’ll be honest with you—I’ve no idea who they are. I’m sure they’re nowhere near my level of social etiquette,” he then looked around briefly before turning and winking at Kristin, “but I’ve been known to make exceptions when the situation calls for it.”

  Kristin got the hint. That, and the fact that this man had all but insulted her brother resigned Pryce to his fate. She stood, balled her fist, reared back, and swiftly knocked him right out of his chair and onto the cold, crud-lined floor.

  Chapter 4

  Alasdair’s first thought upon coming around was that three years ago he would have never allowed this to happen. What had his life become, that he’d been bested by the kid sister of one of his best friends? If it were possible for his family to be more ashamed of him, he knew they would be—not that they even cared about what he was doing with his life at this point. He blinked several times before picking himself up off the ground. “I should’ve seen that coming,” he mumbled. He reached for his left cheek, wincing in pain as he brushed the skin. "You mind telling me what that was for?"

  "The Cobalt Rose is going to have one captain, and that's me. That means, whether you like it or not, you're going to do exactly what I say at all times, or I drop you off on the nearest rock we come across—inhabited or not. Is that understood?"

  "You tell 'em, sister" a distant voice chuckled.

  "Yeah! Show that space hauler who's boss," chimed another.

  Alasdair dusted the collected grime of the Miss Jump Lounge off of his flight jacket. "Is that a fact?"

  "It is. And if you have a problem with it, you can—"

  "He can blow it out his exhaust." The smooth-spoken words came from behind Kristin. They were even, but resolute. She turned to see a middle-aged man with well-worn features and thick handlebar mustache of pure white. There was the hint of a scar on his cheek. Kristin caught a mischievous glint in his eye before the older man cocked a practiced smile.

  "And you are?"

  "Thaddaeus Mason," snapped Alasdair, to which Thaddaeus bowed his head graciously. “Mercenary for hire.”

  "At your service," Mason offered without breaking eye contact with her.

  "Kristin Glasco," she reached out her hand, which Thad silently declined.

  "Thought you were, dead, Thad," Alasdair continued as he rounded the table and stepped closer to the man.

  "Many people do," Mason replied as he twirled one tip of his mustache between his fingers. "And, as I recall, you tried to do it once yourself. We can all see how that turned out. Can't say the same for the people you’ve held company with."

  Alasdair reached for the pistol holstered at his side but was stopped when Mason withdrew a long, delicate blade which was hidden in the folds of his coat.

  "Ahh-ahh-ahh," Mason retorted, still smiling as the tip of the weapon pushed gently against Alasdair's chest. "One should not lose one's temper unless one is intent on getting more and more angry to the end. Didn’t your parents teach you better?"

  Alasdair cocked his eyebrow. “A proverb?”

  “William Yeats. Thought you were an educated man, Pryce?”

  Alasdair clenched his fist, but Kristin moved to halt further infighting. "Enough, both of you!" Kristin barked as she pushed the blade away, generating a small slice in Alasdair's jacket.

  "Bloody hell!" Pryce whined as he reached for the wound in his apparel.

  "Oh, grow up," she countered before looking at Thad. "What's your business here?"

  Thad placed his weapon back in its scabbard and folded it back into his clothes. "I was told to look for an attractive young woman who would be with a washed-out intelligence officer. I saw you with this slovenly drunk and thought my chances were good you two were the ones I was supposed to meet."

  "And who told you this?" Alasdair snapped.

  "Probably the one that told me the same thing," a voice said from behind Kristin. She turned to see a purple-skinned Urilian man with a satchel slung over his shoulder. He wore a loose gray cap, which did little to obscure his lime-green irises "Apparently, word gets around."

  "And you would be?"

  "Zohar Depraysie," he replied to Kristin smoothly.

  “It’s Quinn Stone, actually,” Thad was quick to correct.

  Alasdair remembered the name Depraysie from a news release concerning a recent break-in. “According to an old friend of mine, you burned the Depraysie alias a month ago when you tried and failed to hack into the central financial database.”

  Quinn shrugged. “I may have burned the alias, but I got what I needed.”

  Alasdair scoffed, then turned back to Mason. “And we don't need what you're offering, Thad.”

  "And what is it that you do need?” a feminine voice asked, drawing all eyes to the black-haired woman walking toward them.

  “And who might you be?” Alasdair asked.

  "Mia Varela," Thad spat with disgust. "Thought you were in prison."

  Quinn snapped his fingers in an attempt to recall the offense. "For stealing the Crown Jewels of… something."

  "The Crown Jewels of Gnarr," Mia smiled. "And rumors of my incarceration are highly exaggerated." She then looked at Kristin with contempt. "I was actually scouting a mark when I overheard your little group from across the room. Thought maybe I could score a little coin if I helped you out of your jam."

  “You’re a thief?” Alasdair asked innocently, drawing a burning glare from Mia.

  Thad was unconvinced. "Some of us have a code. You have no allegiance to anyone, Varela. The only person you help is yourself."

  Quinn pulled his cap down closer to his eyes. "That's not entirely true."

  Kristin shook her head in frustration before turning back to Alasdair. "Honestly, is there anyone in here that doesn't know about this?"

  "You can't possibly be the team that's been call
ed here," Alasdair lamented to the trio.

  Thad and Quinn looked at one another in obvious distaste, though they were mild compared to how they regarded Alasdair.

  Mia took a step back. “I don’t know anything about a team.”

  Kristin turned to Alasdair. "You said you didn't know these people."

  "Well, I don’t. Not all of them, anyway." Alasdair defended.

  "Explain."

  But it was the Urilian who made the first introduction. "Quinn Stone, high-tech virtuoso and forgery expert. I also know a thing or two about applied astromechanics.”

  “And wanted on five systems in this sub-sector alone for hacking into the financial systems of several well-known government officials,” Alasdair added to Quinn’s resume. “Or so I’ve heard.”

  “Personal files, mostly. Had to find some incriminating evidence that they never should've archived on their systems in the first place. I’ll add that I got paid a handsome price for them, too."

  "I'll bet," Alasdair seethed. "News is that local security has been after him for months."

  Disregarding Alasdair, Quinn turned to Mia. "Mia Varela, master thief. Arrest warrants in four systems in this sub-sector, twelve total in this entire sector, and I believe the death sentence on Ravina."

  "And I haven't been caught yet."

  "Except on Zagradia," Thad countered.

  "I didn't get caught on Zagradia," Mia countered with a raised finger. "I was detained. Detained. And it was only for a few minutes while I was planning my escape."

  With her arm raised, Kristin noticed an odd device encircling Mia's right wrist. More ornate than a simple bracelet, Kristin would have asked about it if Quinn hadn't started speaking.

  "Good thing, too. Zagradians," he said with a shudder. "Do you know what they do to people who steal their religious artifacts?"

  "Sometimes the recompensa is greater than the risk," Mia added before pulling her sleeve over the bracelet. "Besides, I made it out in one piece. None of you would've gotten close enough to even look at that globe, let alone touch it."