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

was as much about knowing how to deal with adversaries as it was about keeping your own crew in line. Most federation captains didn’t understand that. I suspected Slay did.

Still, that moment of hesitation was all Desmond needed. He motioned to Edgar, now hulking over his station. The big man pressed a series of buttons. On the monitor, Slay’s eyes went wide as her ship shook with the force of a contained blast.

“As I was saying, stealth is much more common on smaller craft, like unmanned transports,” Desmond noted, taking a bite of an apple he suddenly had in his hand. He must have kept it somewhere close for just such a gloating occasion.

What he was referring to was the small drone ship he’d deployed the second the Burnett came on radar. It had covered the distance between the Bear and Slay’s ship during their respective captains’ lively conversation. The moment Slay showed the slightest hesitation, Desmond ordered the drone to land and detonate itself.

Slay’s cool demeanor evaporated as she turned to her weapons tech and barked her disapproval. “Why haven’t we returned fire!”

“I can answer that, captain,” Desmond offered cheerily, still chomping his apple. “Your ship may well be stealthy, but it seems those blue suit engineers put the weapons drive in the same old spot again. Good luck and godspeed!”

And with that, he cut the feed. He whirled his chair to face me. “You have 30 seconds to get back to your ship and disengage.”

“Done!” I yelled as I broke for the corridor to the airlock. Edgar moved into my path. “Hey, you heard the man,” I complained.

“He’s going with you,” Desmond said, referring to the 7-foot-tall mass of humanity standing between me and the Stang.

Chapter 7

The look on Batista’s face when she saw who I brought back with me was kinda how I imagined it must have been for ancient humans when they were surprised by a grizzly bear in the woods.

“What is that?” she asked, loudly and with no regard for whether he heard her.

“Name’s Edgar,” I said, pointing at him as he walked past a shocked Batista. “He’s not as nice as he looks.”

I was about to follow it up with another sarcastic remark when I bit my tongue. Seeing Batista reminded me that she may have been closer to my brother than I ever was – and she still thought he was dead. The breaking of that news would have to wait until we were clear of the federation warbird.

“Lot to explain, but right now we have to get the hell out of here.” I hustled toward the cabin, a bit unnerved by Edgar already acquainting himself with the Stang’s weapons systems.

“Don’t touch anything,” I ordered. The big man gave me a wilting glare, but paused what he was doing. One of the conditions Desmond had set was that Edgar would be under my command. I didn’t really know how long that would last or what kind of “command” I was going to have – part of me thought Edgar would just decide when to treat me as a captain and when to tear my head off – but for the moment, he stood fast.

“You make friends with all the best people,” Gary chided. “And since when did federation ships that big have stealth capabilities?”

“Seriously,” Batista agreed, a wary eye still on Edgar. “One minute I’ve got nothing on the scan and then that shiny bastard is right on top of us.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but we have no time to worry about it. Its weapons drive is crippled for maybe two or three more minutes, and I’m sure they can do some auxiliary damage if they decide to turn their focus on us. Luckily the Bear is keeping their attention.”

I plunked down in my chair and disengaged Gary’s navigation control.

“Hey!” he complained.

“Nothing personal, but it’s better if I fly us out of here without logging a course,” I said, assuming full control of the Stang. Despite the conditions, it felt good. I didn’t go manual as often as I used to. Of all the issues I had with Gary, his flying skills weren’t one of them. As an AI, he was basically a perfect navigator. He’d also learned a few improvisational maneuvers from me and my uncle over the years. I kicked all four turbines into gear and hoped the Burnett didn’t follow us.

“At least tell me where we’re headed,” Batista demanded, monitoring the battle brewing between the Bear and the Burnett. They were engaged in a close-range weapons battle.

“No change in destination,” I reassured her. “We’ll just be taking the scenic route. It seems the Tracers also have an interest in us making an appearance at Jasper Station.”

“That’s convenient,” she replied, shooting a glance at Edgar. “You wanna share any insight on the matter?”

He stepped toward Batista and looked down his crooked nose at her. “As a matter of fact, honey, I don’t.”

The hairs on the back of my neck went rigid as I watched Batista match his step forward. They were now less than a foot from each other. If I was going on sheer size and power, Edgar would be my bet. But having seen Batista dispatch half a dozen feds with relative ease, it felt more like even odds, regardless of the fact she was 150 pounds lighter than him.

“Call me honey again and see what happens, Shrek,” she replied. I stifled a laugh. Edgar just stared at her, clearly not understanding the obscure reference. The only reason Batista knew it was thanks to the Stang’s vast collection of 21st century movies and TV shows. On a long trip like this, a person could plow through three or four movies a day. I knew that Batista had watched Shrek a couple days earlier, as she and Gary had debated whether Donkey was more funny or annoying. The argument itself was the latter, if you asked me. Just as I worried the confrontation might turn