"Instructions for hirin' mercs. Step one . . . Promise big bounties and big commissions. Every merc is looking out for number one, and I'm a generous man. Don't even mind sharin' as long as the big dog gets his cut. Step two . . . Get good and drunk and find a young lady who enjoys the pleasure of your company."
"Fuckin' shithole waste of a planet," Toombs grumbled. He maneuvered his ship into the hanger; it was the cheapest one he'd found on Lupus 5 and looked it. Flickering lights that were few and far in between, dirt floor, staffed by broken-down old mercs. Despite that, it was still going to cost a big chunk of change from the bounty he'd gotten from Speedo's capture. Add it onto the fee, once I catch Riddick, he thought. Bout fuckin' time I collect on him. Shitbag's got the luck of the devil.
Other mercs out there may have swallowed the story that Riddick had died, but not Toombs. He had watched that sorry band of survivors fly off from the Kublai Khan, probably thinking that no one who could contradict them would make it out with the flight crew dead. The Khan then took a direct hit from an electrical storm, wiping out most of their systems records, and Toombs had bailed out on one of its skifs for greener pastures. He snickered. One more ghost ship out there on the back roads . . . Took a hell of a long time to wear down. By the time he had gotten back to civilization, word from most mercs was that Riddick was dead.
That actually suited Toombs just fine; fewer hunters on the trail meant that the quarry would get sloppy, and even better, that he wouldn't have to split the bounty. Go on, little bunny rabbit. Stick your head up, no one's looking for you. Not a sighting or a peep in the last five years, though. He had almost started to wonder if those dregs Riddick had been traveling with had wised up and tossed his ass out of the airlock before getting back to the main roads. Waste of UD if they did. Then again, still would've been a smarter move to ghost him than trust he wouldn't get shiv-happy on their sorry asses.
"Any bars you recommend for recruiting?" Toombs asked the merc checking him in. The man was missing his right eye and had a mess of scars running down his face.
"Rusty Nail, down Old Mill Road. That's where the hotshots go, old timers run a card game Saturdays too. Strike out there, you can try the Inferno, across the street from it."
Toombs walked out of the hanger, breathing in the evening air of Lupus 5. Engine grease, gunpowder, dust. The traffic in the sky was starting to die off. He took out a cigarette lit it. Friday night. Pleasure first, then business. Cryo flights always had him feeling like a teenager again, ready to drink, fight, or bust a nut. Maybe all three.
Here comes trouble!
A motorcycle pulled into the alley between the Inferno Grif's. The rider removed her helmet, revealing a young woman with spiky chestnut hair cold grey eyes. Ash pushed the kickstand down, engaging the anti-theft device before dismounting. She checked her watch, figuring she had just enough time for one more smoke before heading into Grif's for her shift. She walked over in front of the Inferno, where there was more light, before lighting up.
"Those things will kill you," a woman's mellow voice said. Ash looked over at the source: tall, athletic, blonde. She allowed her lips to curl up into a smile that didn't reach anywhere near her eyes, and the woman smiled back.
"Not quick enough." She looked away & focused on the bar across the street. The sign was crooked by at least 3 inches, it had always bothered her. How much would it really take to fix that? The Inferno's door burst open, a merc got pitched out, landing in the garbage on the curb. Young, bald, tattoos everywhere. He stumbled back onto his feet, weaving.
"I was just leaving! You didn't kick me out, I left, you fucker!" Ash tried to turn a laugh into a snort, but Baldy heard her and turned around. As he took in her black tank top, faded jeans, and engineer boots, the snarl left his face.
"Hey, gorgeous. You looking for a friend?" Ash made sure her footing was secure, then exhaled a cloud of smoke directly into his face.
"Bugger off, sweetheart. You're not my type."
"Come on now. I could show you a real good time . . ." He wheedled. She sensed rather than saw his hand aiming for her ass. She reached out, caught his pinky finger in her grip, and twisted as hard as he could. She felt rather than heard the bone snap. Baldy doubled over, howling & shaking his hand in the air, then the blonde's knee smashed into his chin. He dropped onto his back and didn't move. Ash raised one eyebrow.
"Not bad. Thanks for the assist." The blonde winked at her.
"Anytime."
Ash dropped the last of her cigarette on the ground and crushed it out under her boot. She let her hips sway just a little extra as she walked into Grif's, feeling the blonde's eyes on her. She'd always had a thing for blondes. Most blondes, anyway.
"Ash, need you to run the counter for a little bit. Got that welding job on that custom rig to finish up," Grif greeted her.
"Wasn't Fry supposed to do that?" Ash swung the counter up got behind it.
"Some merc dropped in for a chat, shook her up pretty bad. She's up in the office. I'll let you know when I'm ready to have you run the invoice on it. Should just be a few minutes." Ash waved Grif off as she hopped up on the stool behind the counter. Should be pretty slow up front anyway.
Carolyn woke up coughing, the smell of cigarette smoke in the air. The light stabbed into her eyes made her head throb.
"Finally awake, are you?" Shading her eyes with one hand, she turned towards the sound of Ash's clipped voice. Ash took another drag off her cigarette and let the smoke out slowly, her eyes intent on the monitor in front of her.
"You're not supposed to smoke in the office." Carolyn took a careful sip of water, her stomach roiling.
"You're not supposed to get piss-drunk on shift." Ash pushed the keyboard away, then leaned back in her chair. "You're quite the popular girl today, I hear."
"Something like that," Carolyn replied. Her thoughts were whirling again. Boss Johns was right; with that new bounty posted for Riddick, her cover story was trash. More mercs would come sniffing around, out for a big payday instead of just answers. Maybe a warrant, if the authorities took enough interest. This was probably the worst planet for her to be on, if the trail really was heating up. We got lucky that it's held out for this long. Had to run out sometime. What made them post it? She glanced back over at Ash, who was stubbing out the last of her cigarette.
"Can I use the computer, just for a minute?"
"Go ahead, I'm done for now," Ash replied. She stood up and left the office.
Searching the recent news records for Riddick only turned up the bounty posting from Corovan. That didn't tell her anything new. She tapped the desk with her fingernails. Corovan figured it out. What did they find? She looked up the facility in the news records. An icicle of fear spiked into her stomach when she spotted the name two-thirds of the way down the page.
Kublai Khan . . . The news item was dated 3 months ago.
She tapped on it began reading, sweat forming on her back, making her shiver. Corovan recovers derelict hulk. . . Analysts are working diligently to retrieve key data . . . Unknown at this time why it was abandoned . . .
"Fry, you ok? You're even more peaky than normal." Carolyn jumped, nearly falling out of her chair. Ash was back, with her arms full of folders. "What's got your knickers twisted? Watching porn on there?"
"No, I just--" Carolyn managed to close down the tab that had Riddick's posting on it, but wasn't quick enough to close the other item before Ash was reading over her shoulder.
"Ahh, the ghost ship. Heard about that on the dark web." Ash walked over to the filing cabinet, opening the bottom drawer with a slam.
"Do you--know what they recovered?"
"Yeah! They said all the mercs had woken up and started an orgy, so they drifted too close to an electrical storm," Ash said, rolling her eyes. "Three months is no time at all in data recovery. They're not going to release anything until they've gotten what they can."
Carolyn sighed turned back to the screen. She set Boss Johns' contact card on the desk, and started a new search. Hmm. Active duty military up until a year ago. Served in the Wailing Wars. She jumped again as Ash kicked the file drawer shut with a curse. Carolyn shut the last tab down and did a quick delete of the search history.
"I've an invoice to finish, Fry, can you be a dear and piss off?" Carolyn tucked Boss Johns' card back in her pocket and relinquished the computer to Ash.
Downstairs, Grif was putting on his jacket, getting ready to leave for the night. "Hey Fry, come on. I'll give you a ride home on my bike."
"Thanks," Carolyn said. She took her coveralls over to the laundry drop. As they headed for the door, she asked Grif, "Anyone else drop by?" Grif paused, seemed to weigh his words before answering.
"No . . . But I ran a background check on you, back when I brought you on." His hazel eyes met hers, one eyebrow raised. "Re-read it today after our visitor left. Are you expecting any . . . Old friends?"
"No," she replied. "We went our separate ways. Put that shit behind me, you know? Better off trying to forget."
"I know something about that," Grif nodded, holding the door open for her.
Toombs stumbled out of the Rusty Nail, his arm around some tall redhead with fake tits. She brayed out a high-pitched laugh that grated on his ears. He planted his mouth on hers to shut her up, groping at her tits. She tasted like cheap whiskey and hash smoke. "Come on then, my place. You said you know a lot of ways to make me squeal," she said, thankfully in a whisper that was probably supposed to be sexy. She rubbed one hand down the front of his pants.
Movement across the street caught his eye, some big musclebound mother fucker. Riddick? He grabbed the redhead and pulled her up, burying his face in her neck, and peered out from underneath her hair as the man moved into the streetlight. Nah, too dark, taller. Nose is wrong and no shine off those eyes. A woman was walking behind him, blond, average height, petite build. The man swung one leg over a motorcycle, handing her a helmet. She looked up to put it on, and for a moment, before her face disappeared beneath it, Toombs caught a good glimpse of her. Something about the shape of her face pinged at him, but he was too drunk to follow the thought.
"Hey, aren't you supposed to be paying attention to me?" His companion pouted. Her face was too round to make it cute, it made her look like a pig. He grinned at her, slipping a hand up her shirt again.
"Let's get outta here. Take care of me, and maybe I'll let you sit on my face." Her pout disappeared as she brayed that laugh again. He took a quick look at the sign on the building the two had come out of. Grif's.