The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) by Ian Malone (great books of all time TXT) 📕

will ya? I’m pullin’ double duty here with Smitty out.” Frank poured over the data on his console. “I got two freighters at Zeltar City, but neither one meets the Hertzal-class description we got from Rex.”

“Look for smaller starports, then,” Jack said. “The local yokel officials in places like that tend to be easier to bribe. That’s where I’d go if I were a smuggler.”

“On it,” Frank said.

The radio crackled again. “This is Piquaw Approach. State your intentions, Osyrys.”

“Whatcha got, bud?” Taylor asked.

“Stand by,” Frank said. “I got some possibilities here.”

Taylor was really starting to miss Smitty’s proficiency at science station, but he kept that to himself while his Buma pilot swiped frantically through data streams on his console.

“Osyrys, Piquaw Approach, I say again, state your intentions.”

Taylor palmed his face. “It’s now or never, Frank!”

“Looking,” Frank murmured. “Not there. Not there…there! We got ‘em!”

“Where?” Taylor asked.

“Siler City starport,” Frank said. “I’m layin’ in our decent vector now.”

“Siler City, huh,” Jack muttered. “Holy, Moses, what a hellhole.”

“Piquaw Approach, this is Osyrys,” Taylor said. “Our destination is the Siler City starport for refuelin’ and to take on cargo.”

The radio crackled a final time. “Roger, Osyrys, continue as requested. You are cleared for the approach to Siler City.”

“Thanks, Approach. Osyrys, out.” Taylor exhaled and put his head back against the chair rest. “Well, that was fun.”

“It was close, that’s for sure.” Jack tipped up his cowboy hat. “My apologies if I missed something, Chief, but I didn’t know we’d be runnin’ freight for this mission. What sort of cargo did you have in mind to take on?”

“As many of those lousy Dutya as it takes to get a lead on the KzSha.” Taylor glanced to tactical. “Get Stan on the horn and have him meet us up here on the bridge once we’ve landed. Tell him to bring Genovese with him.”

Frank raised an eyebrow beneath his flat cap. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Allowin’ an outsider on the bridge, I mean?”

Taylor heaved a sigh. “The River Hawks did some business here six months ago, so their XO might have some insights that can help us out,” Taylor said. “Besides, if nothing else, he’s another set of eyes, and given how slim we are on personnel for this trip, I’ll take all I can get right now.” He returned to Jack. “Make the call.”

The Oklahoma cowboy keyed his pinplants. Several minutes later, his Mississippi partner trailed Michael Genovese onto the bridge after the Osyrys landed.

“You rang?” Stan said.

“Take a seat.” Taylor motioned the men to a pair of chairs down front. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

* * *

The Siler City starport was downright microscopic compared to others on the planet like Zeltar City, or even the one in Jacksonville, for that matter. There was almost nothing to the place, save a handful of docking platforms, and the requisite refueling stations that went with them. That has to make for a hell of a boring layover, Taylor thought. On the upshot, it meant most of the ships who parked there did so in relatively close quarters, giving the crews of each vessel a clear line of sight to their neighbors.

“For the record, I’d like to state that I’ve seen trailer parks in Gainesville with more action than this place,” Frank said, eyes fixed on the Hertzal-class freighter across the yard via the main Tri-V down front. “There literally hasn’t been a soul on the ground out there, Dutya or otherwise, in the last 30 minutes.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time in Gainesville, have ya?” Stan asked.

“Not if I can help it,” Frank grumbled. “Seriously, though. What’s up with this starport? I’ve never seen one this dead before.”

Genovese grunted. “Clearly you haven’t been around many where smugglers hang out, then.”

The Buma answered his fellow New Yorker with a flat look.

“Most of the activity around here happens after dark,” Genovese explained. “At least, that’s the way it went down when Paulie and me came here.”

Taylor scratched his whiskers. “That makes sense, actually. According to Rex, the Dutya look like giant terrestrial slugs. We’re talkin’ slimy skin and everything.”

“So what?” Genovese asked.

Taylor shrugged. “Maybe they don’t care too much for sunlight.”

“That does makes sense.” Jack nodded.

“I say we follow the captain’s advice and see what shakes out after nightfall. Until then, let’s all get some rack time so we’re fresh when things happen.” Taylor faced the others. “I’ll take the first watch, then Frank, then Stan, then Jack. Keep your gear close by, though, and be ready to move if I call. I’m thinkin’ this is gonna happen fast when it starts.”

Jack raised a hand. “Chief, are you sure you wanna take first shift? I don’t mind.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’ve got this,” Taylor said. “Y’all get some rest. We’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”

The group nodded, then departed the bridge, leaving Taylor alone in his command chair with nothing but a water bottle and a tennis ball to pass the time.

Thump, thump…smack.

The ball ricocheted off the deck, then the wall, before returning to Taylor’s palm.

Thump, thump…smack. Thump, thump…smack.

Taylor swiveled back to the Tri-V. Still nothin’.

Thump, thump…smack. Thump, thump…smack.

The next two hours dragged on as Taylor paced the bridge with his ball and his water, keeping a close eye on the scene outside his ship. Literally nothing happened, not with the freighter he’d been tasked to watch, nor any of the other ships on the premises.

Frank was right. This place is deader than a damn mausoleum.

By the time his shift ended, Taylor couldn’t wait to hand off to Frank for the next watch. He woke the Buma from his slumber, then headed to his own quarters to get some rest. It felt like Taylor had just gotten