A/N: This chapter relies on a twisted version of Toombs chase log… It's um, one that relies on Toombs rather loose recounting of time. This is what happens when you spend most of your time in Cryo, kiddies. Right. So out with the old crew, in with the new one. Or something like that. The chapter covers the remainder of five years after Kyra is left at Kovan Penal from Toombs' POV, leading into CoR.
A Passage: 29The 'Verse of Toombs
He'd just walked out of the prison Boss' office when one of the other high-ranking visitors motioned for him to come closer. The man spoke with a smooth but low voice, "I've got a pickup for you, if you are interested. The con is already in holding, and all you need to do is pick the boy up, bring him here, and I'll see you get 150K. I'll pay all expenses, fines are taken care of, upgrade to your communications to act as a vid log, no cost to you."
Toombs was intrigued, "What's the catch?"
The other man smiled a cold smile; "I'm particular about who handles my goods. I need the transport documented, and although I trust you to not abuse the delicate fruits of my labor, I must insist on the vid log."
"Singled me out, huh? Okay, I'll get your – boy – for you. I'm in a hurry to get off this rock, so make the install an express order." Toombs had dealt with this kind before; Kova was filled with them. The man inclined his head in response as the merc moved off down the hall.
"Day one: Trucking a bag of shit to the Korovan penal facility. Case you're wonderin' why I'm all smiles… that's on account of my employer. You see, I ain't the entrepreneur in charge this time. Somebody callin' the shots wants all this 'documented'. Liability, my ass."
It took an extra four hours for the hacks at the prison to show up at his unnamed C-19 undercutter to install the equipment. If he'd known from the get-go that this would delay his leaving Kova he might have told the potential employer where to shove it. But hindsight is 20-20, as they say. He kept his crew, such as it was, close at hand but let the tagger-on from Helion think they had a day stopover. As long as it got rid of the wanna-be, he was fine with a little white lie every now and then. Betsy, Curly, Greene and Lisp stayed quiet, knowing that opening their traps would end up bad with the mood he was in.
So to make it up to them, as they shed Kovan dirt for space, Toombs told them about the quick job. It consisted of retrieving and returning a prisoner to the prison they were leaving. Three days, tops. An easy 150K. With a 5 way split that worked out to 10k a day. Not bad for an easy payout. His 'boys' deserved that, after their stellar performance with Miss Badd. The hop required time in Cryo, about a week all told. Toombs let Greene handle it.
"Two days out. Convict in the back's named Speedo. Don't know where he got that. Looks pretty fuckin' slow at the moment. Shut up back there! Idiot keeps grousin' about the food and restraints. Korovan's payin' out 350 for this skinny fuck! Two hundred of which goes into my employer's pocket. Pretty shitty math, if you ask me. Last time Toombs is a work-for-hire. Did I just say that on camera? Oops."
It left him with a bad taste in his mouth, knowing that the person who tipped him off got 50K more than he did. Of course he had to keep quiet about that little fact, or there'd be a riot on his boat. Luckily, only he and the prisoner were awake as Toombs decided that the dope out should be his responsibility this go. It was only a week hop after all.
Besides, Greene had not gotten the shit right last time and he'd woken up feeling it. One sure thing his last computer hack and been good for was the working of the cryosystems. When she mixed the dope he'd slept like a baby and woke up feeling ready to go.
He frowned at that thought. Suppose, then, that he'd just have to take over doing this shit himself until he found another computer hack. Crap.
"Three days out. Rolled into Korovan to dump the dipshit, and la-di-da. They tell me they got a first-rate bounty of 500K…on a familiar face – Richard B. Riddick. Makes me wonder what they'd offer on Crematoria. Ain't it a peach when your work lets you visit with old friends?"
So, Okay. He lied. Someone from Johastein's camp told him that there'd be a 500K bonus, when and if he rounded up the con and could prove that he ghosted William J. Johns. But not from the Jo-man… That was to be kept quiet. Right. By the time he reached Lupus 5 it would be all over the network. Apparently Johns' security link had been breached by a highly skilled cyberhacker. No Shit? Yeah. He had a feeling that the same hacker had done in the Kubla Kahn because by the time he'd been picked up off the dump the entire control systems had been royally fucked over by a clever little bit of virtual viral engineering.
He highly suspected one Jack B. Badd, otherwise known as Audrey Johastein, as the hacker. The real one, not the one cooped up in Kovan penal. Who knew what she was up to? She was still out there, likely raising more hell than the big bad was. But without proof he had nothing but his gut feeling. He needed to locate Johns' Guild linkup. To find that, he needed to locate the shitty little lifeboat that the Kubla Kahn had discarded back into space. Talk about a needle in a haystack. He needed to find out if the link was still transmitting and hope to God that the drifting tin can was still near civilized space.
A day stopover on Kova let him do some digging. He still had some credit with the Chillingsworth bunch, and they were more than happy to allow him access to what was left of the Kubla Kahn's computer records. Because he really didn't know much about analysis and tech shit he made a copy and thanked the grieving clan for the assistance.
Unfortunately before he could get his crew back in space, Lisp and Greene got into a bit of a tussle with some of the cyborg 'Golls and ended up needing major medical attention. He didn't have time for this shit. Quick vote with Betsy and Curly later, the trio decided to get out before the bills started coming in.
"Four days out. Time to get down to business—my own business. I decided to keep the cameras, make a record of it. Nobody ever met a merc with personality before. I think I'll lay it down for 'em, give folks a touch of class. First things first. Head for Lupus Five. Gotta dig up a new crew."
To make it even he kept the extra equipment he'd gotten on loan and hightailed it back to Guild Headquarters before anyone could complain. Now, hopping across the Arm from Kova to Lupus was not one of those little just-a-few-days trips, even in his state of the art C-19. Not that it was a 6-month sleep like with commercial boats, or anything. No, the C-19 was faster than that, six times faster. But Toombs never counted his time on ice, because it was a reminder that he'd already outlived everyone he grew up with. He'd spent a lifetime on ice already, thank you very much, and that was too depressing to dwell on. Instead, for every week he spent under, he counted a day. Then he usually promptly forgot about it. He did not need the reminder that he was something like sixty-three already.
"Eight days out. 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."
Nearly before the craft had settled his remaining crew, being Curly, split to spend his cut from both the 200K for Miss Badd and the 150K delivery. So the man went right to the good and drunk part? Hell, what good was the baby-faced shitrag? He hadn't located anything of use on Helion Prime, not even a lead as to where Marcus Smyth might have been while he was living planetside. Surely the man would have left traces someplace? Rented a flop? Had utilities? Ate? But Curly was no computer wiz, that was for sure.
So Toombs knew he needed to rustle up some old contacts. There was a Heidi Logan in his books that might have some use. With his luck, though… Well he had a feeling that he'd lost a fine bit of time with the looks of things around his old haunts, being as he decided to stay away from the hanger provided by Johastein now that the girl was no longer with him. The neighbors sure looked different than last time. How long was he on the Kubla Kahn anyway? He turned to find his current pilot watching him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, doll? You looking for someplace new to sleep?"
"I expect that my old Captain isn't going to want me back in his bed, darlin'," she replied. "You do have a company flop, don't you Toombs?"
He forced the snarl off his face, " 'Course I do. I've got my own boat, don't I?" He turned and began heading up the twisting metallic passageways that littered the planet. "It even has a view, but only from my office. Where you won't go. Got that?"
Betsy followed behind, and he knew that was only because she didn't want to waste her coin renting a flop when she could share his. "I wouldn't expect anything else. A captain has got to have his privacy, right? You treat me good, Toombs. Square cuts, nice fucks, what is not to like? I'll stick to the main area of the flop, darlin'."
Not that his flop was much of anything. It was utilitarian in style, mostly devoid of personal effects and done up in standard shades of gray. He had a tiny bed cubby, just large enough for a full-sized bed that realistically slept one and a half. He'd stayed with the near military-issue mattress and gray-green bedding. Across from the cubby was a counter with a hotplate and icebox. The icebox was a half-size affair that barely fit a week's worth of leftovers. Above the counter was a small cupboard and plate rack outfitted with 4 dingy, mismatched cups and a couple of heat resistant plates for re-heating stuff. Pans, still in the box, sat under the counter along with a few dry goods that couldn't make a full meal if they tried.
Rounding off the flop was a water closet and his office. The water closet was detached from the cubby/kitchen area and sat near the front door. His office sat near the back of the space and had the only window. Most of his stuff was in there behind a securely locked door. Toombs didn't really think of this place as home. Most mercs with the title of captain or marshal got a 'free' flop on Lupus 5 through the Guild. It was all a matter of having a ship or the clout to commander one at need. What he figured was, Betsy was trying to save up to buy a ship, and thus would leech off anyone she thought she could outsmart.
Ha. He was onto her game.
Tonight he'd finish off the booze in the cabinet, give Betsy that good fuck she was after and then go out and check out the local life. And maybe sometime in there he'd give Heidi Logan a buzz and see what was going on with her intel operation.
"Nine days out. Hit the local card game with the dregs on Lupus Five. This tattooed asshole Asher sits down and starts jaw-jackin'…about how he's gonna take down Riddick. Then he says he'd deal with me later. Let's hope for his sake he's just talkin' about playin' cards."
Well, that went just great. Curly sold him out to this Asher punk. Like the pair had a snowball's chance in hell of actually being competition in the Riddick chase. They had nothing, not even Jo-man's private number. No contacts, no clues. And he sure as shit wasn't providing them with any intel.
Toombs had retreated to the undercutter to get away from Betsy for a few hours because the woman was beyond clingy when drunk. And someplace had sold her a case of booze that she was intent on drinking by herself. He'd won more than a few UD's from the card game but the threat didn't sit well.
Curly better not come slinking back to his hanger and ask to get back into his crew after pulling this shit. He popped open a bottle of vodka and took a swig. He'd call Heidi. Yeah. That would be the thing to do, 'cuz she only worked with the best of the best, and he was one of like 5 people that had her private link. That qualified him for 'King Shit' if nothing else did. He took a deep breath and punched in the code.
A beep later a voice answered with, "Logan. This better be someone in the clear, because the secure line is only for top priority contacts."
Toombs didn't recognize the woman, "Um… Heidi? This is Toombs. Or do I have the wrong code?"
"Toombs?" There was a pause, "My God, Toombs… Oh shit, you don't know," the connecting Vid sprang to life and Toombs found himself face to face with Heidi's brat, Eva. Only Eva was grown up now and not the little kid he remembered. He blinked at her. "Mom always told me that once you got the situation with the 'Golls cleared up you'd be back. How you doing, Toombs?"
He ignored her question in favor of throwing out his own, "Don't know what, Eva? Where's you Ma?"
The dark haired woman's face fell, "She got on the wrong end of a gun, about 4 years back. She shouldn't've gone on the case, but the client insisted that she go. Damn bigwig asshole. Da hasn't been the same since." Her face lit back up a second later; "I got her business. Still running a tight ship here. Secure Intel, good prices, guaranteed leads. And your lifetime discount still applies. So what can I get for you?"
He smiled somewhat sadly at her, "Well, damn. I guess I missed that bit of news. Should I send something to your Da?"
"Roses. He takes them to the grave. It'll make him feel better."
Toombs nodded. "I'll make sure they are delivered local so they are fresh. Listen, you are right, I need some help. But not over comms. You know the addy of my flop?"
"Still on file."
His smile reappeared with more of a devious joy in it, "Meet me there, tomorrow. I'll give you the data and rundown face to face, Eva. You won't believe the story unless you see all the evidence for yourself."
She snorted. "Make sure you are decent this time. I don't need or want to see your dick. Once was enough for three lifetimes. And Toombs?" She waited for his raised eyebrow, "Welcome home."
He stared at the screen after it went blank. Maybe this was home after all. If home counted where your real buds were, and you owned a piece of it no matter how small. Damn. He hated this place. He hated most places. Hell, the only place he didn't hate, and he'd been through a lot of them, was deep cold space. The Vodka found its way back to his mouth and he drank. After a few more hours to make sure Betsy was good-an'-out, and that he was too drunk to care if she clung to him like an over-cooked noodle, Toombs headed back to his flop and passed out on the thin bed next to his pilot. After a morning fuck and a quick arrangement for a floral delivery to the Logan residence on Lupus 3, he wandered into his water closet and closed the door.
Betsy sputtered and bitched on the other side of the door over the cost for the five dozen white and yellow roses he was having delivered. "Shut your trap, woman. You have no clue what its about, and I don't want to fuckin' hear it!" Toombs turned on the tap so that it drowned her out.
He scrubbed his face. The grit from this place clung like static-filled Styrofoam. When it came right down to it, he really did hate Lupus 5. Even the water was gritty. He always felt like he needed to shower after he showered. He'd rather just feel like his face was dirt crusted today, so, no shower. Toombs grabbed his threadbare towel and wiped the moist grit off his face and raised his eyes to the mirror. The reflection of a weather-beaten, scruffy aging man glared back at him. His skin was beyond pasty, and dirty gray streaks marred his once-handsome golden brown hair. He needed some sun, some real rest, and without a doubt, some time away from stupid… He needed a plan to get rid of Betsy.
Instead he focused on shaving so that he'd look professional for Eva when she arrived. He was just finishing up when he heard the door to his flop open and Betsy ask, "And just who the Hell are you?"
"Eva Logan. I'm an intel professional, and you are?" Came the cool reply.
"Betsy. Toombs' pilot. Nice to meet you Ms. Logan." Betsy's voice had changed instantly. Toombs was surer than ever before that the bitch was trying to get her own ship. He narrowed his eyes and began straightening out his clothes. Fuck this. First Curly, then Betsy. What was with these monkeys? Back in the day, when he was a junior merc, you were loyal to your captain. Clearly, things had changed.
Behind him a shuffle led to a knock, "Come on, Luv. How long you gonna take in there?" Betsy whined. "Besides you got a business contact here, and it's not nice to keep 'em waiting."
He had hoped when Betsy woke that morning and discovered his 'fridge was empty that she'd split. He hadn't bothered to feed her in over 36 hours. But no. She was still there. It was time to ditch her. Now he just needed to figure out how. "Yeah, yeah… Just a mo'." He took a piss and fastened up, not looking at the scruffy, worn visage mocking him in the mirror. Leaving the water closet he looked at the older woman with her overflowing bounty of flesh threatening to escape her shirt and the younger woman behind her looking like she wanted to rip the pilot a new one. He ignored Betsy's glower in favor of moving his business into his office as soon as possible. "Eva," he greeted, "I want to talk to you. You got some trustworthy friends I can get to run some checks for me?"
Eva Logan had inherited one of the best free-lance intel gathering operations in the Lupus system. Like her mother, she was unassuming and not fussy. Her honesty and toughness combined together to make her easy to trust with information that Toombs would otherwise keep close to his chest. Once more, he knew that she kept close tabs on her crew of hacks so that they stayed honest too. He'd not used Logan Services the year before, having his own computer hack on board. And before that he'd spent time on ice to pay off his fine he owned to Kova for some regulation (or set thereof) he'd bent just a little too far. But now, well, he needed her.
Logan's face perked up, "Sure thing. What you need?"
He gathered her up with an arm motion, allowing Betsy into the toilet. The Logans didn't exactly like him, but if the daughter was anything like the mother she'd be a great investigator. Better than double-crossing Curly at any rate. And he had gotten on with the man of the house, enough that they could enjoy a beer in each other's company without shooting up the joint. Even after the man's sight had begun to fail and he retired, Toombs had felt somewhat welcome around the man. That was why he'd sent the roses this morning, much to Betsy's outrage.
"There was some records I liberated from the Kubla Kahn, when I was in the Chillingsworth employ. One of them was a scan of a captured ship," he started as they moved through his small home, "I'm trying to do a tribute to Marshal William Johns, see? I know he's MIA. Actually, I suspect he's dead but the company is covering it up so they don't have to pay the insurance settlement. But that is beside the point – Marshal Johns was the top man to beat, 17 for 17 in less than a year, not counting cryo, until this last case. No one else has come close. The guild needs to recognize his brilliance. It won't though, until someone nominates him for his work. I aim to do that. Will you help me?" He was feeding her the biggest load of bullshit he could manage, and he knew it sounded fake to all hell. But Logan was a smart lady. He could tell that she could pass it off as her own idea, and in her voice it would sound true.
The dark-eyed woman smirked at him. She'd known Toombs from the time she was knee high. One thing she knew about him was that he didn't give a shit about tributes to others. So she called him on it; "You are so full of shit, Toombs. What do you really want?"
"Okay, you caught me," He laughed. God, it was nice to be home. "This scan, well, the 'ship' and I use the term loosely, was an old Company lifeboat. At least 30 years out of date, see. They don't make 'em like that anymore. I need to find out where they were used in a certain sector and I need whoever is crawling through the Company database to be quiet about it. I'm sure Johastein won't like anyone poking around much."
Eva looked thoughtful, "This have to do with your 'secret' project? The one that is keeping you underfed and overworked?"
It didn't surprise him that she had kept tabs on his habits even if he hadn't contacted her about being a free merc again. That's just the way the Logan Services worked. Once a client, always a client. Toombs wouldn't be surprised if she had guessed at what he needed already. He ushered her into his office, closing the door so that Betsy wouldn't overhear, "Partly. Look I need to locate a man named Smyth. It's um… Marcus, I think," he dug through his stack of papers, "Yep. Marcus Smyth."
She snorted, "Dead. Toombs, you can't expect anyone to believe you when you chase ghosts. The insurance company paid out on that claim. It was big news. He owned a major gaming outfitter on Tangiers. His family had a shit-fit that he selected a total stranger as his next-of-kin. I remember reading the psych profile that stated after surviving a major life-changing event that some people latch onto other survivors like family. That was the only reason the New Meccan Imam got the payout."
While her knowledge about this 'Marcus Smyth' was a nice summary of the official reports and would have impressed just about everyone else, Toombs was the sort to brush off being awed and force the point. He caught her eye and tried to imprint on her psyche exactly how top dog important this was, "Listen to me, Logan. I'm telling you this, and it's true. And -- God Damnit, Johastein believes me. So will you just listen?" He nearly grabbed a handful of her chestnut brown hair but restrained himself.
She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest as she raised an eyebrow. Everyone who was anyone knew about Carl Johastein. The name was equaled with power. His was a name that was whispered to green junior mercs like a boogeyman in a dark suit. One that had his own private army on call. Someone to avoid drawing the attention of if you valued you head attached to your neck. Johastein was a name that rarely came up in day to day business, as most mercs avoided involvement with the ruthless Company bigwig. Toombs had guts going to him and risking having his dick dusted to win the man's support.
Satisfied that she'd at least hear him out if not actually believe him, Toombs began putting his cards on the table, "It wasn't Smyth. Smyth never survived the crash. It was Richard B. Riddick. He's played this game before, Logan. I'm positive that the body found on the last ship 'Smyth' owned wasn't Smyth's body either. Somehow he slipped me, and I aim to find out where he went."
Her eyebrow was nearly in her hairline, "Riddick? You -- " she nearly choked in surprise, "think the bastard is still alive?"
Visions of Asher and Curly floated into Toombs mind. For a second he wondered if Eva was as honest as Heidi had been. "I fuckin' swear, Logan. Word leaves this office and I will kill you. He's fuckin' mine, got it? I'm taking him down. You want in? I'll let you and you alone into the final cut. But you gotta keep this to yourself."
That hit hard. "Whoa, Toombs!" Eva looked at the man that she'd fondly thought of as a 'family friend' or as close as one such as Toombs could be. He was slightly wild-eyed. Alarmed, she straightened up but remained against the wall, "Breathe, man." After a pause where it looked like he wasn't breathing at all she stood upright and came over to his desk, leaning towards him; "Come on, breathe." Toombs looked up at her, meeting her flinty brown eyes with their open honesty, and took a slow deep breath. Eva licked her lips, "Better?" He nodded. "Good. Now, you must realize that once my contacts start digging they are going to find out who you are really after. We'll deal with that once it happens. First off, tell me, what should they look for?"
Toombs took another deep breath. There, that felt more like he was in control. He knew from looking into Eva's eyes that she was like Heidi, her mother's daughter. Honest and true. Right. Time to spill, "Audrey Johastein was and is a computer wiz. I'm positive that both Smyth's and Riddick's records are altered. And maybe even her own records, if what I pulled off at Kova was any indication. I've been trying to locate that lifeboat, because Johns' Guild Link was on it. It had to be, because the transmission for the altered records had to be made through his signature or they wouldn't have taken at such a deep level. I mean; every civilian, Guild, Company, and military record was altered. Only someone with high level military clearance, like Johns, would have had access to do that. Audrey must have stolen his Guild Link and hacked the records that way."
Logan watched him fidget. What had he pulled at Kova? She'd have to look into that, wouldn't she? Or ask. "Um, Kova? Don't they have like the universe's best ID system ever made? What did you pull?"
"Found out that there was a look-a-like for Audrey Johastein, was all. When she failed to get me the intel I needed from the other survivors I hauled her off to Kova penal. She passed the ID test." He shrugged. "Guess the Chillingsworth clan were rather pissed off about the murder of their little Antonia."
She continued to watch him. His fretting didn't indicate guilt as such, but was more indicative of him remembering an experience that bothered him. She was tempted to pry but decided to wait when he dug out a half-smoked cigar and a thick Kovan data core from one of his desk drawers and raked his hand through his hair.
"Once more, I've got the raw data from the Kubla Kahn computers that she trashed. I'm positive it was her, too. The preacher, pilot, and princess don't have the skills for this, and neither did Riddick or Smyth. She's the only wild card here, so it must be her doing. If Riddick had been the one to take the computers down it would have been through physical damage, because time after time that is how he has operated. But this time, the computers were physically fine; the techs couldn't find a thing to repair. It was the company brains on the rescue ship that found the Kubla Kahn that suggested a viral attack on the control systems. They were right." He lifted the data core; "I got a copy of the entire system compress here from the ship, thanks to the Chillingsworth clan. The viral program is contained, but still active. A mutating worm. It took a squad of the best Company and Kovan brains to build a block that could stop it. There's no telling what kind of damage this girl could do, if she set her mind to it."
A whistle broke the strained silence as Eva took in the information. A killer like Riddick and a cyber hack, working together, could cripple society from any location they chose. Hell. No wonder Toombs looked like shit. He was scared out of his mind with the prospect of what these two could do if they set their mind to it. Only he didn't have a clue as to how right he was to be scared. She wondered what other evidence he had. "How do you know, for sure, that the records were tampered with if Miss Johastein did such a wonderful job of covering her ass?"
"Only this," He tossed a couple of hard copy photos to her. One was a college photo of a young man with sparkling greenish-gray eyes with 'I'll love you forever, darling. -- Marcus' scribbled across the bottom. The other was a cadet photo of a dark-eyed man that could have been Marcus' younger brother. The back of the photo had 'So there, I survived Strike Force Academy and only got this crummy haircut! Ha, ha, J/K, Lt. 'Richie' Riddick.' Toombs lit his smoke and gave her time to sit down, "Personal photos, one from Marcus Smyth's wife, the other from Carl Johastein himself. What other proof do I need? An eyewitness? I suppose I could try to drag in the other survivors, but they aren't talking." He decided to not mention the Kubla Kahn's lookup of Riddick's files that he managed to save. Only Johastein knew about those aside from Curly (and Asher). He didn't need Logan trying to kill him too.
Logan reached for his electronic display and pulled up the files in question and compared the photos in her hand with the images. "Sure as shit," she murmured. "Right, I'll tell the boys that you are trying to help Mrs. Smyth reclaim her settlement if the bull about Johns doesn't fly. What should I do if they get too nosey?"
"Send 'em to me, and find some new hacks." Toombs said lightly, even though he was deadly serious. "Listen, I want you to take this and see if you can find any patterns to Audrey's work. It seemed random to the Kovan experts, but you know how much stock I place in those religious freaks."
Eva took the data core and slipped it into her jacket. "I'll work on it myself. Don't want to risk the virus getting out or anything." Then she laughed as she exited the room, "And about those hacks… Make sure you got a 'stupid-direction' picked out, Captain. You're gonna need it."
That night he found himself out at an eatery with Betsy on his arm. At least she looked nice, all dolled up and wearing a half-decent dress. It was a bit too much like a date though. So he told her that he needed her to look something up for him. He knew it would likely end up with her in a holding cell, but he'd ask anyway and play innocent later.
Toombs tipped her off about Riddick's pre-crash visit to Lupus 5 and his rifling through the Guild computer. He flattered her with her skill at digging intel out of people and made the suggestion that if she wanted the big money that there was a lead he wouldn't touch because he was too crude to manage it. But she could, likely. A couple of glasses of wine later she toddled off thinking she was far better at the game of seducing intel out of folks than she really was…
"Ten days out. Turns out Asher wasn't talkin' about playin' cards. Mighta gotten messier if this kid hadn't stepped in to mediate. The little man is Evac. He put the drop on Asher for me…and now he says he's lookin' to get on as a gunner. Quite the resume moment."
By the next morning Toombs had taken care of all his little problems. Except for the crew. He'd give it one more day then he'd split. If he could stand one more day here. Evac was a smart cunning fellow. Small in stature, easy to mistake for a kid but aware enough to use both to his advantage. Toombs figured that he'd better keep an eye on the fellow. At the current moment it seemed that the Riddick rumor died with Asher and there was no sign of Curly. But Toombs won't forget Eva's warning.
"Eleven days out. Lupus Five is starting to stink of amateurs… so Evac and me gotta look elsewhere to crew up. I even had to deputize a bunch of idiots…and sent them on a Riddick goose chase in the stupid direction. Boy, Riddick's big game. Seems like it's more than just a bounty that gets all these panties in a tussle. Watch out, Sunshine! Here comes trouble."
After the hacks show up in his hanger thinking that Eva has no idea about what Toombs is really going for are dealt with, it's clear that Lupus 5 is not working out. Sure as shit, Logan had been right about her hacks. He guessed that normally she'd keep them in line, but he had told her to send them to him. So he exercised his captain powers, promoted them to provisional merc status and gave them some 'leads'. Of course, Evac just couldn't stop laughing over that. The hacks had been on a lowly pay scale in relation to what real mercs made, and Toombs didn't even have to promise them square shit.
Toombs informed Logan of his secure link on his C-19 and rounded up Evac's gear from where the other man had it stored. They hit space and a two-day trip in cryo. Now normally he'd call that a day and leave it as such, but Toombs forgot about the camera until after being on the ground for a day at Lupus 1. Once there, Toombs tried his own hand at the intel game. Just looking for some clue, any clue as to where Riddick might have gone, where he might have stopped at after escaping from theKubla Kahn. He was hoping that perhaps another system would pop out at him as a likely stopover point. Instead he comes to the conclusion that Riddick would have gone straight to Helion.
"Thirteen days out. Made a pit stop on Lupus One. Did me a little research on the Helion System. If Riddick dropped his holy friend off anywhere… it would have definitely been New Mecca. The trip's not a total loss. Got me a pilot. Big fuckin' oaf named Daisy. Not much to look at, but she's all sweatheart."
What he finds confirms his first impression: Riddick took the remaining survivors to the Helion system. The stolen two-seater from Chillingsworth's ship is still sitting in lockup on Helion 5. He could get in to see the hulk if he wants to, but really there's little he could glean from it that the company hasn't already. He opts for a company investigative record on the examination of the ship, the psych profile write-up on one Carolyn Fry, pilot 2nd class, and the deposition given by Lajjun and Abu al-Walid to the port authorities about how they came into possession of the craft. But there was nothing new in any of the intel he got. In fact, all the documented evidence points to one Marcus Smyth being on the cutter with the others. It almost seemedtoo watertight.
Or he really was chasing ghosts. He stopped for a moment and considered things. He knew what he'd seen on the Kubla Kahn. Those records were from before the expert work done on the ship's systems that left it crippled. Thankfully he'd managed to copy the files that were still viewable before one of the other mercs lost them totally. That copy was the only one in existence now that pointed to Riddick having survived the crash of the Hunter-Grantzer. It had been enough to convince Johastein, and every dipshit in the Arm that had heard about him having those files had tried to kill him. So—no ghosts there, just a very hard to follow trail.
His investigation was interrupted when Evac dragged him out to some of the local areas, seeing as Toombs hadn't been on Lupus 1 for literally years. It was while they were checking out the local watering spots that they ran across something Toombs desperately required: A pilot. This one was not clingy, not looking for a ride in the hay, not demanding anything at all but a square cut. He gladly shook her hand on the deal.
"Twenty-two days out. Think Daisy's got an unhealthy obsession with wives' tales. Good thing I'm not married. She won't stop runnin' her gums…about some kind of "scorge" or scourge or – Whatever it is, it's givin' me a headache."
The trip in cryo lasted 9 weeks before the C-19 hiccuped and came to a stop. Toombs couldn't see anything wrong with the systems but decided to be safe and spend some time checking them over carefully. It would set them back a day or two, but at least they'd survive to landing. He crawled around in the guts of the ship, double checking connections and having Evac push buttons on cue. Nothing came up. It was at this point that Daisy started running her mouth about this, that, and the next thing. She'd spotted a comet in the distance heading in toward the star nearest to them. The faint thing might have disrupted the gravity of the undercutter as it breezed past. Toombs popped his shoulders and told her to shut the fuck up, before ordering them back into cryo.
"Twenty-nine days out. Helion Prime. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here. Who does want to live here? Anybody else think it's bright enough? No way Riddick camps out in these woods…but I got some ideas."
Another 4 weeks and they land, once again, on Helion Prime. Toombs counts the 2 days doing the system check in space, the 4 weeks in cryo, and the 3 days spent limping through the Helion Nebula at sublight speeds in that tally of his. He checks his mail before waking the others at the edge of the nebula. Eva has sent him a pack of intel that indicates someone with Riddick-like behavior pulled a crime spree across Helion Five and Helion Prime before going very, very quiet.
The spree includes a false fire alarm at a swanky hotel, assault on a number of company employees, a murder, a stolen ship, unauthorized entry into Helion Prime airspace, crash landing said stolen ship in a wild life reserve, embezzlement, and assault on a Helion citizen. All in the span of a few weeks.
He contacts her back and leaves a message for her to check out the hotel incident after she gets finished with her trip to Aquila. He has a hunch that they will find an Imam at both ends of the spree… Pointing once again to Riddick being Smyth.
To keep the crew occupied Toombs sends Daisy and Evac out to scout around, buy up some supplies, and in general stay out of his hair. Evac comes back with a local notice about a quick pick up where one of the smaller jails has a triple-max con confined and is looking to get rid of him fast. Seeing as he has the room he agrees that they should help out.
"Thirty days out. Picked up a straggler con named Damascus. A little insurance bounty just for the hell of it. Turned out Damascus already had a handler…a merc by the name of Phelps who lost his skiff…and was looking for a new business partner. I figured a buyout was safer than a gunfight…so Phelps is comin' along as my new navigator…and Damascus is comin' along for the ride. Sounds like the price on Crematoria can handle a split."
The group with con took off for Crematoria, but only after limping back out of the nebula before they jumped into faster-than-light speeds. Toombs had to practically grind his own teeth down to keep from backhanding his pilot. He put the others into cryo before venting. In the meantime, he reviewed the intel from Helion. The rough direction across planet for the crime spree pointed out by Logan does indeed point to the Imam. He doubts that anyone other than Logan would have drawn a connection between these varied crimes though. Aside from the stolen ship and the crash, the only thing they have in common is a bleach blonde chick in sunglasses wearing a lip ring, and those are a dime a dozen here in the Helion system.
"Thirty-four days out. Since we left Helion, Daisy's so hopped up on conspiracies… she won't shut her damn yap. Keeps mutterin' somethin' like "Necromonger." Damn fine pilot, but I wouldn't mind…just sewin' her mouth shut! Phelps is workin' out like a charm. Think maybe I've finally got a crew with the stones to get the drop on Riddick."
Cryo for seven weeks before his personal alert goes off. Toombs forced himself awake and looked around for the cause. There was an automated robotic outpost sliding up alongside the C-19 and something was causing his alarm to twitter in his ear. The others were still asleep and for that he thanked all the varied Gods in heaven. A closer look at the alert he discovers that Logan has located and patched him into Johns' Guild Linkup signal. And it is very close by. Like, on that garbage sweeper bouncing up against his hull. He forgets himself and whoops for joy. That extra 500K looks to be in reach. He could kiss Eva, except for the fact that she'd gut him for trying if she's even a smidgen like her Ma in that respect.
"Forty-one days out. Just hit an outpost off the lanes and found a five-year-old data dump…with passenger info on a ship called Hunter Gratzner. William J. Johns in possession of a convict. Now, a little due diligence, and you can get the name of the skiff that the big, bad Riddick rode out on. Now, how many slick fuckers do you think could do that?"
He uses his captain's override and gets inside the outpost. Toombs has to wear a space suit, but he finds the shitty lifeboat inside, under a bunch of other crap. Given the choice of waking the others or doing this himself, he decides to leave them sleeping. The gravity makes it easy to move the bits of trash until he's able to get to the skiff. Inside he finds scorch marks on the inside roof of the thing, signs that the fire foam went off, indications that people managed to live in the tiny space for an extended period of time… He turns his attention to the search and soon uncovers the hidden stash. He takes both the jewels and statues to sell and then uncovers the prized guild link that will net him half a mil in UD's. Back inside his own ship he plugs in a new battery. Johns' link has been set to emergency broadcast by someone who knew how to maximize battery power. He's never seen anything like it. The dang guild link fires up and looks like it was never that low on power. He opens the files and begins browsing through Johns' data. It becomes very clear that the man kept great records, in Toombs' standards anyhow. Every capture, every chase, every bill and bounty collection for all 17 runners is present and accounted for. The government could do a full accounting of Johns' estate off the intel on the hard drive alone. Then as a bonus, he finds not only the data off the doomed last flight but the serial numbers for the little skiff, the outpost buildings on the planet they crashed on, a near full personal record of the missing persons that had been on the planet before them, and Riddick's personal data file dating from the Wailing Wars. To Toombs' surprise he also uncovers that Johns was running a scam by taking Riddick to slams, getting paid, and them picking him up when he inevitably escaped. Man, the guild was gonna be pissed when this hit the fan. He was going to have to talk to Eva about what to do with this info. It might be worth blackmailing Johns' next-of-kin about to keep the guild from finding out.
He carefully hid the linkup so the others don't find it in a compartment under his chair and dopes back up for the other fourteen weeks in cryo that it takes to reach Crematoria. No-one else need even know about the little stopover. Only Eva. He'll talk to her soon, no doubt.
"Fifty-six days out. Runnin' low on party poppers now. We just made the landing on Crematoria and it seems there's some confusion about the price on Damascus here. Is every monkey in this galactic arm terrible at math?"
Every damn time he stops here the prison Boss, Douruba, tries to lower the stated fees. Compromise seems a way of life with the Russians. As much as he wants to get in and then back out, this damn planet locks him in to staying unless he wants to take a deep, deep cut. So he spends the time bartering and misses that slim window to depart.
"Fifty-seven days out. Had a little sleepover at the slam. Now, you know you got everyone's attention when the bounties start jumpin' up. These Russian jokers say they're putting up a cool 850K for Riddick. Just the kind of financial motivation a tired bunch of mercs like us need to keep up the good work."
He has to admit, his skin is looking less white after a day here. It's so hot that even underground one's skin tends to tan up. Of course, above ground the temperatures tend to cook things in minutes. The food was not too bad either, even if it doesn't hold a candle to the fare on Tangiers-3. The talk is thatif Riddick is alive, and if he can catch him, Douruba has a deal worked out with the Jo-man himself to offer the largest single prison payoff ever. The offer is dangled in his face to get his mind off the other prisoner he's trying to get paid for, he suspects.
In any case, it won't work and Douruba knows it. But the game with Toombs was one he enjoyed playing. So over a fine glass of class-A home brew, the prison boss told Toombs of what his guards have overheard between Phelps, Evac, and Daisy. Now that was a distraction. Toombs narrowed his eyes at the news. Douruba tells him he can set him up for a full payout, minus expenses, with a total of one cut, which although smaller than advertised he won't have to share, while taking care of the mutiny brewing with his crew before talk drifts back to Riddick.
It doesn't take long for the liquor to loosen the prison boss' tongue to the point that he reveals that Johastein wants Riddick contained and Crematoria is just about the last place left to try. There are only two other new triple max slams Riddick hasn't bested besides this one. Both of them are, like Crematoria, a 'waking' triple max. No deep storage, cryosleep, pansy 'save their souls' crap. The vivid descriptions alone make Toombs' blood run cold in the sweltering heat of the main control room. He has never been to either of the other triples. From what he hears, he doesn't want to, either. Crematoria is bad enough.
"Fifty-eight days out. Goddamn 52 hour days here, and all I want to do is pop the cork and get runnin'. Daisy's been talking to a couple of the Russians. Her tall tales are starting to sound like the genuine article. Some kind of planet-killers. Well, ride me hard and put me up wet. Who's got time for that? I got a convict to pick up."
It's going on his third day in this joint, as he missed the window to take off at mid day due to being drunk, and he still needs to get paid. He recalls his deal with Douruba, and knows that he needs to talk to the crew before he gives the signal to go ahead. So he marched in to where the others were.
Daisy acts like the big oaf that she is. But Toombs has the idea that maybe she's not so stupid. Evac and Phelps have heard some things from the Russians about the calls from Johastein and set in with more questions than he cares to answer. Then to top it off, because of his 'buyout' of Phelps, Evac and Daisy both think that he can afford to give them a larger cut. No. This is not happening. He manages to get them straight about what "square" means, an even 4-way split after expenses. The ship needs to be resuppiled so that comes off the top. If they want to be there when he buys the shit the ship needs to make sure he's not pocketing extra, then fine, but the cuts come after the bills.
As he's leaving, Daisy starts back up with her rumors, adding even more 'detail' than the last time…
"Fifty-nine days out. Preppin' to get off this rock. Everybody on board is anglin' for a fatter cut than the bog dog. Evac and Phelps sure are askin' lots of questions about Riddick. Nobody told me the price of loyality was gonna be such a pain in my ass. What's to know? He's a fuckin' convict pimp-daddy jailbird. Had to make it clear that my hirin' policy is 'no questions asked.' For that, I dish out square cuts."
As per-agreement with Douruba, in the predawn light, just a bit too early to leave, the escape alarm goes off. The Russians dangle extra cash in front of Evac, Phelps, and Daisy if they 'help' bring the surface runner back in. Toombs is told to stay put, as the ship's owner and 'insurance' that his crew won't help the runner escape instead of bring him back in.
The offer is way too good for the three mutineers to resist.
Once they are gone, Douruba steps out of the tunnel with the case of cash for Damascus and clears Toombs to leave. He even turns off the anti-autopilot security system to ensure that Toombs survives the experience. It's a 'no-questions-asked' kind of deal.
"Seventy-six days out. Had to make a few cutbacks recently. After all that work diggin' up a premium crew… they had to go and make themselves expendable…by talkin' mutiny on my ship. Bet they were surprised to find me and the skiff gone when they got back to the hangar. Good luck with that terminator run. Sunburns like that never really go away."
The cryo trip back to Lupus takes 17 weeks. He meets with Logan and goes over her intel from Aquila. There's enough clues there that he thinks it might be worth a trip himself. Certainly the stolen Kovan freighter, Amenjard, with its oddly altered-eyed thief is a tasty morsel. Toombs remembers that ship meeting up with the Newtownian Institute's research vessel to pick up the remains of Chillingsworth and Junner. It had been staffed with Rychengoll brethren. Something like that is hard to forget.
Eva looks even older than the last time he met with her. He wonders if his C-19 don't have some faulty systems in the navigation or something, because it sure seems like he's been away from Lupus longer than 9 months. Yet that's what the crono shows. 9 months and a week give or take a few days.
Eva has been doing all the Riddick-based footwork herself, not trusting the new batch of hacks with this intel. It's too high level, and too risky. She sits Toombs down in front of her workstation, back at Logan Services main office, and carefully reveals the tell-tale signs of systematic alteration that she's dig up from the records he left her.
He then produced John's guild link. They discuss the overall package, including William J. Johns' dirty laundry. He'll leave that in her hands for an even split. She agrees, on the condition that he leaves the original guild link with her and take a copy of the intel for himself. Since the work was done on this machine, he agrees. He needs her to track down exactly what Audrey did to those records and how she managed to transmit them into the various databases.
He then leaves for Aquila himself, with a stopover at an outpost to pick up some old friends from the Kubla Kahn that he knows won't stab him in the back.
"Eighty-one days out. New hirin' policy – nothing too fancy. These guys will work out fine as long as they can draw a bead when we catch up with Riddick. Heading to the Achelon system on some granted intelligence."
Toombs takes another 4-week jump, hit the space station, and gathered up T-Doc, Johnny, Tags, and Codd. All of them are old pros. They have a good shot, and won't try to overstep their bounds. He knows them all, from his Kubla Kahn days. Each of them tried their hand at their own operation and only Toombs still has a ship. -- Well not totally true. T-Doc is one of those folks, like Heidi Logan, that he'd stake his life on. And it was T-Doc's call that drew him here. And its T-Doc that still owns his own cutter. It's not much, a little two-man craft; certainly not robust enough to take on someone like Riddick alone.
But together, they'd be unstoppable. So T-Doc suits up to follow Toombs, Johnny, Tags, and Codd to a new goal, Achelon. Why there and not Aquila? Because the outpost that the Kovan Freighter was swiped off of sits in disputed space, and Logan has already mined the databases on the Aquilan side. Achelon's computers aren't quite as tough to break into and T-Doc thinks he can do it without tipping anyone off. Plus it's only two weeks off.
"Eighty-three days out. Back in the Achelon system again. First time in a long time. Nine worlds to choose from. No need to get all dolled up. Probably won't stop for long. Achelons aren't that chatty, so intel might be hard to come by."
With Doc-T in constant communication, Toombs and his associates settle in behind one of the local moons so that they can do some searching through the Acheleon database. Now normally in a situation like this, where the local sun is a dim one and the security is slack, Toombs would expect to find a fellow like Riddick taking advantage of the situation. Instead they draw a blank. There's no sign of him ever stopping here. No sign of Smyth either. There are two possibilities. One, Riddick managed to not make a scene if he stopped here or; Two, he didn't stop here. Toombs rather thinks it's the latter. But Doc-T convinces him to stick around for one more day so he can check the civilian records to see if anyone with the right profile pops up employed anywhere.
"Eighty-four days out. New bounty just hit the wires. Somebody'll pay 1.5 million now. Looks like things just got serious. Consider me motivated!"
The wave is out of Helion, which is a slight surprise. It's private, with payment on delivery in cold hard cash in the domination of choice. This one states Richard B. Riddick, alias Marcus Smyth. There's no doubt about it, someone thinks he's on the right track. Toombs, being the not so deep thinker that he is doesn't bother to wonder why a private party on a non-prison world would want to pay nearly double what Johastein is offering. Quite frankly, he doesn't care. He just wants to get paid.
"Eighty-five days out. Well, what little hospitality there was just ran out. Some comet here just jacked the shit out of my systems. I imagine if Daisy were still around she'd be barkin' the same old Necromonger tune. Thanks to whatever, we now have to put in for repairs at a nearby outpost."
Luck is a good thing, both his cryosystems and Doc-T's still work. The nearest outpost still reading an energy signal is a two-week jump in Cryo on the opposite side of Achelon space. He's got little choice in the matter.
"Eighty-seven days out. I hit this Achelon outpost and did a little more diggin'. Boy they should start passin' out merc awards…and I think I'll take the trophy for king shit. Guess who's comin' for ya, Riddick?"
There's only one system that the Kovan Freighter stolen from the Aquilan outpost on the other side of Achelon space could reach, as Riddick definitely didn't stop. Limited options, little place to hide. It was only a matter of time. It would have taken the Telvis class Amenjardfour months to cover that ground. His C-19 can get through it in a month. He's so close he can almost taste it.
At that same outpost there's another undercutter, a C-14, slightly smaller craft, and two out of luck crews of mercs. 1.5 million is more than enough to share. He recruits them all, makes sure they understand that he's calling the shots and they prepare to hit the target hard and fast. Toombs doesn't even bother to learn the other crew's names. He takes on enough people to fill up his C-19 and Doc-T adds an additional single person to his ship. The others file into the C-14 and they jump into space for a 4-week sleep.
"Ninety-two days out. Planet UV Six. Quite an interesting choice. Maybe I'll use the bounty to hire a ghostwriter…for my autobiography. Can't wait to see the look on Riddick's face—all deer-in-the-headlights and shit."
Settling down on UV 6, Toombs leaves Doc-T in orbit. Doc-T and the other little Asian pilot handle the coordination of crews. The C-14 with it's 5-man crew goes in first, scouting for signs of life. UV 6 is the opposite of hell, blisteringly cold, incased in twilight even at noon, and currently swathed in a blizzard. At first break, about 7 hours after landing, the crew sets out to scout.
The first crew down quickly falls foul to something in the swirling snow. Toombs locates the wreck of the C-14 after several hours of searching. He doesn't like what he finds. The inside of the ship has been gutted, trashed. And Toombs thinks that it wasn't something random. He pulls back into space and talks the situation over with Doc-T. In the end, both ships land, Doc-T drops off his single crewmember to assist in the hunt and heads back into space. Toombs divides his group into 4 and 4. Four in ship, four on the ground. He tells them to stay in constant contact. Codd and Johnny take two of the newcomers and head off into the snow. He keeps the other three, including Tags, and they head off into battle of wits with one Richard B. Riddick.