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

was Slay’s version of events. Ours ended with the Golden Bear blasting the Burnett to hell and then we’d deliver the drive to Desmond. And then – hopefully – he would honor his end of the bargain and let me continue running from the fed bounty on my head that seemed to be growing by the day.

We went over the game plan a couple times as we made our trip to meet the Rox. It was dangerous, but fairly simple. Romy and I would board the ship first, with her posing as my apprentice. I had a toolbox with a hidden compartment in it, where I would hide the Halothane. While we worked on fixing the ship, we’d slip the sleeping gas into the ship’s ventilation system, knocking everyone out. Upon receiving the all-clear, Edgar and Batista would join us on board and then we’d get the warp drive, Marcum and my brother off the ship before anyone woke up.

That was the idea, anyway.

Any number of things could go wrong. Maybe someone on the Rox would recognize Romy. Or Marcum Marcum, the genius, would see Romy (who used to be on his team) and tip off the crew. Then there was my brother. What if he was playing for the other side?

There were so many variables it was making my head spin. So when we finally saw the long, cylindrical ship come into view, I was more than ready to just get on with it already.

Edgar had raided the Stang’s armory and was disappointed with what he found. He and Batista geared up for battle anyway, each of them strapped with no fewer than four weapons each. Romy and I had nothing, unless you counted my tools, which had been used as weapons more times than once, of course.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped on the Rox were the faces. They didn’t belong to insecure feds or calculating Tracers. This was a motley crew of dead-eyed, angry men and women. It was about as cheerful as a graveyard. Three men waited for Romy and I as we crossed the airlock gate onto their ship. They didn’t bother brandishing their weapons. It was a given that we did as they said or we (and our ship) were toast. We might’ve been toast anyway.

Griss himself rounded the corner and moved to the front of the welcoming party, so to speak. He was stout and compact, like one solid piece of muscle that had been molded into a mostly normal-looking human being. He looked at Romy and I.

“What happened to your shoulder?” he asked, noting the sling I still had protecting my right arm.

“Fell off the bed during a nap,” I lied.

He nodded. Didn’t really care about the answer, it seemed. Then he checked the corridor behind us. “Where’s the hot one?”

I shrugged, not wanting to give anything away. He appraised Romy, then shook his head.

“Whatever. Let’s go.”

They led us into the main engine room. Griss told us to watch our step. He was referring to a large smear of blood that was still slick. Must have belonged to his lead mechanic, RIP. The blood was pooled in a large puddle, and long red drag marks trailed toward the exit. Romy blanched at the sight of the mess.

I spotted a large object in the corner of the room with a tarp over it. Considering its size and the two burly men standing guard next to it, I figured that was the warp drive. Romy recovered long enough to nod, almost imperceptibly, indicating it was probably what we were looking for. It was connected to the turbines with a host of wires and a wide metal duct of some kind.

Closer to where we stood, Griss showed me a panel on the wall that had been stripped away, revealing the long intake tube of the engine core. This tube was how the reactor transmitted energy from the core to the turbines.

“My guy said the problem was somewhere in here before he was retired,” Griss explained.

I touched the wall and felt the hum of the life support systems. They were still working with no problems. Griss nodded. “The reactor is fine. Just can’t get the turbines to fire. You’ve got two hours. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Two hours?” I complained. It was just for show. I had no intention of being on the ship more than 20 minutes. I’d already spotted a ventilation duct we could use to disperse the Halothane.

“Fair enough. Three hours. If you can’t get us going by then, well, on to the next mechanic, I guess.”

Griss and his entourage left the engine room. The two men guarding the warp drive remained. Damnit. Somehow we’d have to distract them long enough to get the gas into the vents.

I opened my toolbox and grabbed a flashlight to take a look at the intake tube. Romy kneeled next to me, getting close enough to chat without the two thugs hearing us.

“What now?” she asked, nervous.

I looked at the space between the wall and tube, then looked at her. She was skinny enough, maybe. She frowned, knowing what I was thinking. “You have to be kidding,” Romy said.

I handed her the flashlight. She started climbing into the open space of the wall.

“Hey! Where the hell is she going?” one of the big guys asked, his hand moving toward his gun.

“Your boss wanted us to fix this. Well, the problem is in there. Unless you want us to take apart the entire damn engine, I gotta send my girl here to crawl in and do the work. Or maybe you wanna tell Griss you’re the reason we can’t fix it.”

The guy just glared at me for a few moments. Finally, he nodded. Romy started to wiggle into the open space. Once she had cleared the panel, I put my toolbox in behind her. She grabbed it.

“How am I supposed to get up there?” she complained. She was at floor level and the venting was near