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

“That’s more of a deal than a rule, but okay, I can agree to it. What’s on Jasper Station…aside from the God fearers?”

Jasper was home to the largest colony of Believers in the galaxy. What could she possibly care about that place, I wondered.

“Rule number three: My business is none of your business.”

Batista pulled back the blade, pocketing the weapon in her pants. Which were actually my pants. That she’d taken off me. Luckily I’d been wearing clean underwear. Ish.

“It was only fair,” she said, admiring her new pants. “You ruined mine. And now we’ve both had a good look at each other.”

“That doesn’t really feel fair to me,” I countered, a bit self-conscious.

“He’s not used to visitors, especially attractive ones,” said Gary.

Batista looked at me, then the camera. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she already understood my pain when it came to Gary’s quirks.

A few minutes and a new pair of pants later, and we were sitting across from each other in the galley, drinking what passed for coffee when I was running low on supplies. The bitter insta-brew didn’t seem to bother Batista, nor did the general state of disarray on the ship.

“Pretty daring plan to get me aboard the fed vessel,” I offered. I slid the note she had left for me across the table. Its message was simple: I know what happened to your family at Missura. Get me off the ship and find the truth.

She nodded. Sipped her coffee. I waited for some sort of response or explanation, but none came. I wasn’t sure what to make of her. I sensed a weight had been lifted from her shoulders…or maybe she was always this laid back.

“There had to be an easier way to commit treason. One that didn’t involve making me a fugitive,” I said.

Pirate jumped onto the table and flipped down in front of Batista, looking for attention. She obliged. Traitor, I thought, shooting him an annoyed glance. He didn’t even notice and was laying it on pretty thick with the purrs.

“Shadow,” Batista finally said. “I miss that guy.”

“You knew Shadow?” I asked. He had been my brother’s black lab. He died about a year before my brother was murdered.

“That dog used to pee the floor every time Avery walked into the room,” she remembered, her eyes glistening ever so slightly. “Loyal to a fault.”

“Avery,” I muttered. It had been a long time since I’d spoken my brother’s name aloud. It felt foreign, strange.

We’d been close as kids, at least as close as any two brothers could be when raised separately. Our parents had divorced when I was four and he was seven. I went with my mom, while Avery lived with my dad, as he was actually my half-brother, one of three kids from my father’s previous marriage to a woman I’d never met. The only thing I knew about her is that she worked at a casino for a few years after they’d been married, and when the marriage fell apart, she’d taken their two daughters and left Avery.

Avery and I were based only a few thousand miles apart, on different stations just beyond Mars atmo, but we may as well have been at opposite ends of the galaxy as far as I was concerned. Avery was off on wild adventures with my dad while I was with my mom reading books and learning to play the guitar. I was a bratty kid, so I treated my mom with more contempt than she deserved. In reality, I’d had the better end of the bargain. I learned later my brother spent most of his youth being raised by the various women my father dated over the years. None of the relationships ever stuck, partly because of my dad’s job as a wrecker, but mostly because of his proclivity as a drinker.

Avery and I stayed in touch the best we could, talking on the com-link often, until the weekly chats turned monthly and eventually faded altogether. We were finally reunited when I was 14, legally of age to travel on my own. My mom gave me her blessing to pursue the only dream I’d ever had — to be a wrecker like my dad and brother — but I know in her heart she wanted me to attend university and do something important with my life. It didn’t take long for my dad to see I had a natural gift for doing things with my hands, combined with an innate sense of how machines worked. He quickly pitted me against my brother. That was the old man’s way. We were the only teen boys on the crew, and became de facto partners in crime as a result. Often literally. We’d both spent time in fed lockup on multiple occasions.

“I’ll take you to Jasper, but I’m not gonna sit here and talk about my brother’s dead dog,” I snapped, maybe a bit too harshly. I was tired of the random scraps. I wanted the meat of it. “How do you know my family and what can you tell me about their deaths?”

Batista regarded Pirate for a moment, as if looking for a sign from the cat to give me the info I wanted.

“Silver Star,” she said, in a matter of fact tone.

“My dad had nothing to do with them.”

“That was the problem. For the last two years, Silver Star has been eliminating the competition,” she explained. “Dig a little deeper and you’ll see a handful of other independent wreckers have been put out of commission under suspect circumstances. Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t got you yet.”

Silver Star was the federation’s preferred wrecking company, in no small part because they were run by ex-fed officials. Rumors of kickbacks for fed contracts had been swirling for years, but who was going to investigate? The oversight system was a joke. With more than 28 ships in their fleet at last count, Silver Star had nearly 90 percent of the wrecker crews on float.