Wreckers: A Denver Boyd Novel by George Ellis (ebook reader ink .TXT) 📕

have an AI. Or if they do, they don’t opt for one like Gary with such a big personality.

Batista seemed to regard me in a new light.

“So, you outwitted Desmond?” she said. “You.”

“Never said that,” I corrected.

Outwit implied I’d planned to pull one over on the guy. Which I hadn’t. And so I told Batista what really happened.

Chapter 5

I was halfway between Earth and its moon. Or the moon and Mars. I was also halfway awake, battling spaceouts.

It was my 19th birthday after all, and Pirate and I had celebrated in style. We’d both dined on cans of our finest (i.e. only) tuna, then he got a handful of catnip and I had a few too many beers I’d salvaged from a recent job in Earth atmo. Gary was tired of the 20th century rock music I’d been forcing him to serve up the last three hours, but I took another swig and demanded more AC/DC, a favorite of mine.

“Were these lyrics written by a 12-year-old boy?” Gary complained.

“This is from your era,” I slurred. “You’re supposed to like it.”

Right when it was getting to the good part, Gary turned off the music.

“Highway to…hey! What are you doing?” I growled.

“Oh excuse me for turning off that teen angst fever dream, but we’re being hailed,” he replied.

“It’s my birthday. No jobs on my birthday. Music. Now.”

“Okay, but you should know we’re also being targeted,” said Gary.

That got my attention. I sat up and checked the proximity scans. We were being painted by a ship less than 1,000 miles away.

Don’t drink and navigate, kids.

“Tell me about the ship,” I said, switching my beverage to a can of soda.

The Stang had armor, but I didn’t really want to test it. The fact I was being targeted was rare. Aside from the odd saber-rattling of a federation ship trying to intimidate someone every now and then, most ships didn’t actively target one another. More often than not, if another vessel lased you, it wasn’t just for show.

“J Series, heavily armored, two rail guns. Tracers,” Gary chirped, smugly.

“I guess we better answer. Put ‘em on the big screen, Gary,” I said, before turning to Pirate. “I’ll do the talking.” Pirate yawned and stretched a paw over the back of his chair. I had to hand it to the little dude – he didn’t rattle easily. Or it’s possible he was just high on catnip.

“Hello, Mr. Boyd. A pleasure to meet you,” a baritone voice said.

I looked toward the monitor, ready to make a wiseass retort, but bit my tongue at the last second. And I was lucky I did. The man on the other end of the beam was handsome and athletic, with piercing blue eyes. He was also the most notorious scoundrel in the galaxy. Not that you’d know it by his genteel demeanor. He went by a single name.

“I’d say the cat got your tongue, but Pirate looks fairly relaxed at the moment,” Desmond said. “Yes, I know your cat’s name and the story of how you acquired him.”

I tried to appear unfazed and forced a thin smile. “I won that game fair and square.”

Desmond leaned back his head and laughed. “You don’t think I tracked you down to get back a cat one of my people lost to you in a card game, do you?”

The thought had occurred to me. “Of course not, Desmond. Though I’m racking my brain for another reason you might be lasing my ship at the moment.”

Desmond nodded. I hadn’t insulted or challenged him, but I’d made it clear I didn’t like being primed for target practice. He studied me for a moment, then glanced at someone offscreen. A second later, the red light on my dash ceased flashing.

“Thank you,” I said, holding up my cherry cola to him, before downing a sip.

“You have to understand, Mr. Boyd…”

As much as I enjoyed the mock-formalities, I said, “Please, call me Denver.”

“Okay, Denver. Not only do I have a reputation to uphold as a dastardly character, I also have a few enemies. Certain precautions are necessary.”

I inclined my head, indicating I understood. After that, we sat there for a moment, just regarding each other. I’d heard many tales of the man. They varied, to be honest. Sometimes he was described as a sort of Robin Hood-like character, only stealing from those who deserved it. Other times he was a madman who had killed scores of innocents simply because he could. My general experience had been that as far as notoriety was concerned, it was best to believe the worst you hear about someone, and be surprised if they turned out to be better. Which is why I kept my non-soda hand casually resting near my weapons system control panel. Perhaps sensing this, Desmond raised an eyebrow and said “I hope you don’t consider me your enemy, Denver.”

“How could I?” I asked. “We hardly know each other. So what can I do for you?”

“I’d rather talk about that in person,” he replied. “I give you my word all I want to do is make a business proposition, one I think you’ll find very enticing, if the stories I’ve heard about you are true.”

Stories about me? I tried to imagine what he could’ve possibly heard about me that was interesting enough to warrant a special invitation to chat. There were probably 1,000 stories about him to every 1 about me in the universe. And mine were mostly of the “arrogant young wrecker who inherited a cool ship” variety. Hardly the stuff of legend. Of the ones I’d heard about Desmond, none of them made me feel too great about stepping onto his ship based on him giving me his word he wouldn’t space me.

“Sounds good,” I replied, motioning around the cabin. “I may need a few minutes to clean up the place.”

Desmond laughed again.

“I like you. I can’t wait to have you aboard. Set a course for these coordinates,” he said, then clicked off.

And that was that. The man had