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

“Don’t you mean the Ford 5.0?” Gary joked in my earpiece.

“Whatever. Let’s go.”

* * *

Four hours earlier, we had received the distress call from the Rox.

We were spinning our drive about 30,000 miles from Jasper Station, waiting for the signal to come in. I didn’t want to get too close to Jasper, as I feared the Rox’s captain might think it was a little too coincidental that his ship was disabled and the Stang happened to be right in the neighborhood, waiting for the distress call.

According to Edgar, the captain was a brilliant but volatile guy. His name was Grissom, but everyone called him Griss. He didn’t like being called by his formal title of captain, for some reason. Edgar didn’t know much about his background, but he said the entire time he was on the Rox with Griss, he only saw one person challenge his authority. Griss made an example of the guy, snapping his neck with his bare hands while the crew was eating dinner. He then ordered that the body remain where it dropped for two days so it could serve as a gruesome reminder of what happened when you questioned his judgment. I got the impression that even Edgar, who had serious problems following rules, probably kept his natural instincts in check. I wondered how my brother had survived more than a week on the Rox. He was an insubordinate pain in the butt on his best days.

Shortly before the call came in, Batista gave us a heads up that Avery had messaged her to say that Marcum had agreed to come on board and activate the warp drive. I realized I would soon be seeing my brother face to face, if the plan worked. I wasn’t sure if I was going to punch him or hug him. Probably both, in that order.

We had rehearsed how I’d answer the distress call if Griss wanted a face to face beam. Edgar and Romy would be nowhere in sight. It would just be me and Batista in the cabin. And Pirate, most likely (I left that decision up to him). It turned out Griss did in fact want to chat, so Batista and I cleared the cabin then I leaned back in the chair to collect my thoughts.

I accepted the transmission and a man with bulging neck muscles and a shock of red hair filled the screen. He tilted his head and just studied me for a moment, then glanced at Batista with a grin.

“You single?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

He narrowed his eyes. “I was talking to the lady, kid.”

“Ah, my bad.”

Batista folded her arms, nonplussed. “Single but not looking.”

Griss grunted and grinned once more, apparently liking her sass. Then he turned to me.

“Ford 5.0. What’s that about?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

“It’s a reference to the ship’s real call sign,” I explained. “It’s not exactly safe to advertise that one right now. I’m sure you understand.”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Griss said. Just as he did so, my scans confirmed his weapons were hot. Locked and loaded, as they used to say.

“Deal. You first.”

“I’m Grissom, and this here is the Roxelle Baker.”

He leaned closer to get a good look at my reaction. That was the part I had practiced the most leading up to the transmission. First, I pretended to be surprised. Then, with a little bit of fear in my voice, I simply said “No way.”

Griss made a gesture that indicated I could believe him or not, he didn’t care. “And you are?”

“Denver Boyd, captain of the Mustang 1.”

A flicker of recognition showed on his face. He’d heard of us. He looked offscreen at someone and then nodded.

“I could make a lot of credits bringing you in if that’s true,” he said. “There’s a warrant for 10,000 credits on your head. I’m actually impressed, to be honest.”

That was news to me. I hadn’t heard the bounty was upped yet again. It was hard to keep track of it with all the other stuff going on. I guess that’s one good aspect of being handed problem after problem, you start to forget just how many are on your plate.

“Yeah, but if you’re really the Rox, assuming that ship even exists, you aren’t bringing us in to the feds for 10,000 measly credits,” I said.

“Good answer,” Griss admitted. “But I’m still trying to figure out why you’re spinning your drive out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“We were thinking about heading to Jasper. Then I remembered there was no beer on the station.”

Griss laughed. He nodded his head. “Believers. Can’t stand the lot of them. Nothing good ever came from religion.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. And I also say you should head over here pronto, as I got a power supply issue that is baffling my lead mechanic. Or I should say it was baffling him. He’s not currently my lead mechanic anymore. He’s just a grease stain in space.”

I could tell he wasn’t bluffing. The dude had killed his own crewmember for not being able to do his job.

“I hope for your sake you’re as good as the rumors suggest,” he said. Then he cut the transmission.

I exhaled loudly. Batista relaxed a bit too and leaned back in her chair.

“Never liked Ruddy anyway,” Edgar said. “He was a worthless mechanic. You’ve gotta be at least as good as him.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

I set our navigation to intercept the Rox a thousand miles off Jasper Station. The trip would take a few hours. Once Edgar had created another encrypted beam, we contacted Slay and told her the particulars. We would get aboard the Rox and retrieve the item (the details of which I pretended we still didn’t know). Once we disconnected from the Rox, Slay and the Burnett would magically warp-swoop in and destroy the sniper ship before they knew what hit them.

Then, we’d rendezvous with the Burnett, deliver the merchandise and be on our merry way. At least that