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

A few months and a few jobs later, Uncle E and I were enjoying the last of the frozen egg rolls Jiang had left us, when he collapsed and fell to the floor. I would learn later that my uncle had a brain aneurysm. One minute we were debating whether the 8th season of Game of Thrones ruined the whole experience (he thought it did, I disagreed), and the next thing I knew he had fallen out of his chair. It was all over in a few seconds. Gary and I tried to save him, but there was nothing we could do. For a long time, I sat next to his body, thinking he might just wake up. Or I would wake up, and it would all just be some kind of bad dream. It wasn’t, of course.

It hadn’t been a battle between ships, but my uncle was right: one second is all it takes to change everything. Suddenly, I was alone in the verse. The 18-year-old captain of the Mustang 1.

Chapter 11

My first solo gig was easy. At least it was supposed to be.

A party barge had stalled a hundred miles off Roman Landing, a tourist destination on Mars. Most of the revelers had been transported back to the planet before I arrived to fix the ship, but there were still a couple dozen crew and straggler tourists bopping about the vessel.

Party barges, as they were informally known, ran the gamut from family-friendly to the raunchiest dens of sex and drugs you could imagine. This happened to be the latter kind. As I pulled into the docking bay, the bright neon of the large “Port Lauderdale” sign reflected off the glass of the Stang’s forward windows. Docked on either side of my ship were transport skiffs to take people to and from Roman Landing. The black and gold ships had the phrase “Party Like It’s 2209” emblazoned on the side panels sparkly paint. They could probably carry about 100 passengers each.

A handsome, teal-haired man was waiting to greet me when I stepped off the Stang. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but styled himself in a way to appear younger and trendier. His jeans and designer shirt probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

“Hello, young man,” he said, a flirting tone in his voice. We shook hands and he let the shake and the eye contact linger. “If all wreckers were this handsome, I’d sabotage my barge more often!”

I chuckled nervously and withdrew my hand. I knew I had to get used to being judged by my age, but this guy was more interested in my looks. Flattering, but not what I was looking for at the moment.

“I’m Jameson, but everyone calls me Sky,” he said. I didn’t bother to ask for the details on that one. “You are Denver, correct?”

He explained that the barge had lost propulsion earlier in the week. It wasn’t a critical situation as the power and life support systems were still functioning, and the skiffs could be used to transport people to and from Mars. The issue was one of code.

“Each day, the federation fines us for not being in compliance with the laws regarding vessels of our type. We have to maintain the ability to travel at least 500 miles per hour, even though we never really travel anywhere!” he complained. “Those feds. They could use a little more Port Lauderdale if you ask me.”

As he led me to the engine room, we passed through various areas of the mostly-empty ship. First, there was the dance club. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, slowly spinning. It was kind of sad. The bartender relaxed behind the counter, enjoying a cocktail and watching what sounded like a Purple on her handheld. She didn’t even notice us as we clicked across the wood floor and moved into the main dining hall, which was fashioned after ancient German beer gardens. Long, wooden benches on either side of a thick table. The few passengers that were still aboard seemed to be gathered here, trying to make the most of the conditions (party barges were notorious for being jam-packed with people, and when they weren’t, much of the vibe was lost). Most of them were my age or slightly older, but they all looked worse for the wear. Like maybe they’d been on the barge a few days too long. I didn’t envy their eventual crashes.

They drank beer from large steins. I was jealous about that part.

Sky noticed this and grinned. “Perhaps after you fix the engines, we can lure you into staying for a few days. You seem like you could use a vacation.”

Before I could answer, Sky swung the double-doors open and we were in a long red corridor. It was only wide enough for two people to squeeze through. The walls were lined with velvet and there were small couches positioned every 10 feet. It was dimly lit and trancing music was piped in. I didn’t have much trouble imagining what kind of debauchery went on in this particular hallway. But if I had, the videos on the screens throughout the corridor provided plenty of inspiration.

“This is the only way to the engine room?” I asked.

Sky gave me a mischievous look as we exited the hallway and finally made our way into the maintenance area of the ship. We reached the engine room, which was presided over by a tall guy with gray hair. He was dozing in a chair in the corner.

“That’s our maintenance engineer, Mickey,” said Sky as he checked the time. “Yep, it’s his mid-morning nap. Well, I will leave you to it. How long do you think you’ll be?”

I hadn’t even looked at the engine yet. Under normal circumstances, I would have been annoyed by the ship’s engineer being so lazy. Considering it was my first solo job, I didn’t mind him sleeping in the room as I worked. It meant I had a low