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

you’re alright, I guess that’s good enough for me.” Selzo held up his new drink and we clinked glass to can.

First, Chandy? I wasn’t crazy about some Silver Star captain, no matter how chummy he seemed to be, having a nickname for Chandra. But just as worrisome, I didn’t like that she vouched for me. The whole plan could blow up in my face, and I wouldn’t want her hurt in the crossfire.

“Barely know her,” I said. “Maybe she just likes a pretty face.”

That got a laugh from Selzo.

“Don’t laugh too hard,” I cautioned.

Selzo looked over, trying to figure out if I was hitting on him. Just in case, he said “I appreciate the drink, but I don’t swing that way.”

“Neither do I, but that doesn’t mean I’m not trying to proposition you,” I replied, keeping my eyes level with his. “Name’s Boyd. Denver Boyd.”

A flicker of recognition crossed his face. “Sure. How’s the Mustang these days? I met your uncle once. Nice enough. Can’t say the same about your dad.”

I couldn’t tell if I was more worried or proud that he’d heard of me – and my ship. I settled on the latter. “The Stang is still purring like a cat. Or, I guess, horse.”

“What kind of proposition you talkin’ about?” he asked. He tried to play it off cool, but he was clearly intrigued.

* * *

I got back to the Stang an hour later. With my new stock of credits, I could’ve rented a penthouse suite at The Westin Lux or Titan Grand, but I always felt more comfortable sleeping on my own ship with my security system fully engaged.

“So how did the covert mission go?” Gary groused the moment I stepped aboard. He had tried to call me on my handheld multiple times when I was at the pub. Bored, I guess. Sometimes I didn’t know if he was my artificially intelligent second mate or my jealous girlfriend.

“A success,” I said. “But I wouldn’t go around celebrating.”

“As if you’d ever let me off the ship anyway,” Gary sulked. “You know, some people might consider this kidnapping. You never let me leave the Mustang.”

A few months earlier, Gary had found a fully mobile robot on the web that apparently could house an onboard AI. Meaning he could inhabit the bot and walk around in a physical body. It looked vaguely human, and while Gary would never admit it, I think he was most excited by the fact the humanoid shell had hair. The guy still had hair envy even though he hadn’t inhabited a physical form in centuries…and was only a programmed version of an actual human anyway. I was glad I had a full head of thick, curly hair. Didn’t need those issues on top of all the rest.

And the truth was I had issues. Selzo had taken the bait, agreeing to consider joining up if my (fictional) contract with the Tracers came to fruition. I told him to discreetly talk to a few other captains he trusted to gauge their interest. Which meant about half of Silver Star would know in less than 24 hours. Which meant by helping Desmond, I had also put a big fat target on my back. That was not Desmond’s concern, no matter how much he enjoyed sharing a beer with me; it was a good reminder not to lull myself into thinking he was my friend. My belly rumbled, partly from the nerves and partly from the fact I had drunk 36 ounces of grape soda on an empty stomach. I opened the bag of fast food I’d bought on my walk back to the Stang, and Pirate came tearing around the corner, screaming bloody murder.

“Relax, pal, I got you a fish sandwich.”

He nearly clawed my hand off as I dropped the fish-protein substitute on the table next to me. He went to town on it, not a care in the world. Must be nice. I watched him for a few moments, scarfing down a patty made to taste like fish for people (and cats) that had never eaten the real thing. It was strange, really, but I guess old flavors die hard. Personally, I’d tried the real thing a few times and preferred the subs. No sooner had I settled into my pilot seat to enjoy a burger and a nap than my comm alert buzzed.

“Want me to put it through?” Gary asked, still annoyed with me.

I put my food back down and nodded. A moment later Jack Largent’s smarmy face filled the monitor.

“Evenin’” he drawled. “At least it’s evenin’ here.” Meaning his ranch back on Earth. Despite owning 70% of the universe’s largest towing and repair corporation, Largent hadn’t left bedrock for more than ten years. Oh, he wasn’t retired. He just decided to leave space to his captains, or so he said. There were rumors he had radiation poisoning from all the long trips on thin-skinned ships, but he looked pretty healthy to me.

“You have your father’s eyes,” he said. “Your mom’s ears, though. How is she these days?”

My blood boiled, and I tried my best not to let it show, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Most people tend to choose their words carefully around powerful, wealthy people like Largent. I never claimed to be as smart as most people.

“Ask about her again and this beam is over,” I snapped. When my parents had split, Largent had tried to swoop in and court my mom. It was obvious he was only doing it to tweak his rival. My mom knew that, of course, and had higher standards, so she turned his sorry ass down. He seemed to understand by the way I said it that my mom had died.

“Ah, I wasn’t aware. You know, I was actually sorry when I heard about your father. You may not believe that, but it’s true. There’s no greater respect than that among sworn enemies, of which I admit we were.”

I said nothing. Just waited.

“I assume that’s