In Jacob's experience, dread was the manner in which human instincts tended to manifest themselves.
He resettled himself in his pilot's chair and began an unobtrusive check of his instrumentation. He didn't want Max to realize he was a little freaked out. Though after a few seconds he realized that Max was still too wrapped up in the news to really be paying attention. He probably wasn't even really aware of the fact that he was flicking his Zippo again.
Jacob tuned it out, focusing more intently on his instrument panel, and opening himself up a bit more to the feel of the ship. Pilot for long enough and you got so that you could have a sort of sixth sense about your vessel. When problems might be coming down the pipe, nasty and mean. He'd staved off two serious wrecks now by accurately predicting some major malfunctions. Which wasn't nearly as comforting as it might sound.
His ship was old, and they hadn't been able to afford maintenance for too long. They'd let it go and now, besides a dozen lights, too many of the restraints in the cargo bay, and a murmur in the engines, the heat sync was screwed up. He wiped absently at his forehead, frowning at the warm handful of sweat that came away.
Jacob had been through hell and back more times than he cared to count. Sometimes hell was hot, sometimes it was cold, sometimes it was the dead depths of deep, dark space. On a scale of horrid conditions to work and live under, this wasn't even that bad. But it was starting to get to him. Everything about today had worn him down and he was closer to the edge than he would've liked.
He knew a lot of that pressure was coming from the fact that this job was it. The big one. The last one. He held onto that thought very firmly. The last one. The final shady cargo-haul between Jupiter's moons he was ever going to do.
And it was a long, long time coming.
"The UJC has declassified some actual footage from within Europa colony District Zeta, where the outbreak initially occurred."
Jacob's frown deepened as he glanced over at the screen Max was staring so intently into, curiosity getting the better of him. He'd heard about what had happened on Europa, everyone had, and he'd been arguing with Max about it for weeks now. He'd gotten it into his head that they were somehow connected to it. Something was up, though, because that hadn't been his original argument.
Max made no secret that he hated the United Jupiter Company. Jacob wasn't too fond of them either, but they ruled Jupiter and her moons. What could really be done against them? They were God out here. Judge, jury, and executioner. They saw all, controlled all, and owned all. That was just the way it was.
But something had changed. In the beginning, it had just been complaints, uneasy paranoia that Jacob himself shared. He had to admit that there was something shady about running cargo from Callisto, the dead moon that housed only a prison. And nothing else. Not any other colony, no mining camps, no research outposts.
Just that prison, Black Iron.
What could they be shipping that was so important? That they were willing to offer some massive bonus? That it required dozens of trips from not just him but a dozen other cargo ships from what he could see. Something was fishy, but wasn't that always the case? When weren't the damned UJC fishy? But then Max had become convinced that they were somehow responsible for the outbreak on Europa. But how did that track?
He never seemed to have a satisfactory answer or theory, just that somehow, in some way, primarily through working for the UJC, they'd had a hand in the incident. They'd gone round and round on it for so long that by now, it didn't even matter. This was their final assignment, and then it was a big, fat payday, and nothing but good booze, hot steaks, and hotter women.
Well, for Jacob at least, Max had a wife to go home to.
"This shocking footage comes from Europa, a brazen attack by the terrorist group known as the Outer Way whom you may remember are now being led by the notorious Dani Nakamura."
His radio crackled suddenly, making him jump.
"This is Callisto Hangar to UJC Charon, you have cleared the security perimeter."
"All right," Jacob muttered, sitting up and adjusting himself in his seat. He reached out and flicked a switch. "That's enough of that."
He heard Max exhale sharply as the screen he was watching died. He looked over. Jacob ignored him as he flicked another switch, activating the radio.
"Roger, Hangar Control. Laying in a course for Europa Station."
All he got was an acknowledgment blip in return. He frowned as he began typing in coordinates. He knew the woman attached to the voice and could even picture her, sitting tersely at a control station, blonde hair pulled into a short ponytail. Luck had put her in his orbit, as she happened to be in the hangar bay most of times he happened to be dropping by to pick up a new shipment. He'd hit on her and once, during some kind of delay with the cargo that gave him three hours of downtime, he'd invited her onto his ship.
She'd taken him up on the offer and it had been a fun experience, but he'd never been able to shake the sense that something was just off about her. And it wasn't just her. It was everyone at Black Iron. They never relaxed. They walked around like they were cursed, or almost like they were prisoners there, too.
Hell, maybe they were. Jacob knew for a fact that the UJC wasn't above slavery, no matter how they tried to dress up the language or bury it legal-sounding bullshit. Although he felt in a rather distinct position of being unable to complain. They were giving him a ridiculously good deal to do this job. Honestly, he was still suspicious.
But they were almost done, that's what mattered.
Almost there.
By the time Jacob finished punching in the controls and they were starting to gain some real altitude and get clear of the atmosphere, Max had intensified his lighter flicking. It was definitely intentional now. He did it because he knew it bugged Jacob and during their long and checkered friendship, it had become a staple of their interactions. Jacob would piss Max off, Max would start flicking the lighter and clam up, Jacob would feel like an asshole, try to figure out some way to apologize without actually apologizing.
There. Done. Jacob sat back in his seat. Max was still flicking the lighter. Jacob tried to ignore it, staring out the front windows at the clouds they were drifting through.
Flick.
There were always clouds on Callisto, it seemed, always dark gray or black ones. Big, billowing, bleak clouds.
Flick.
Jacob wiped at his forehead again. He should probably take off his damned jacket, but it was his lucky jacket and he felt the need for every ounce of luck, imagined or not, he could get. He tried to envision a hotel room, a bottle of brandy in a bucket of ice, a four-course meal delivered. Steak and shrimp and a hamburger, a real one, none of that processed shit.
Flick.
The beginnings of the fantasy vanished like smoke. Jacob felt a surge of anger.
"You got something to say? Or you gonna keep flicking that thing all day?" he snapped, twisting in his seat to glare at Max.
His copilot and best friend in the system stared back stubbornly, and Jacob immediately regretted his words.
"I was watching that," he said after a long pause.
Jacob tried to smother his temper. He could tell Max wanted to delve into it again, pick at it like a scab. But he didn't want to spare even another sentence on the matter.
"It's our last run, Max," Jacob said firmly. "I'm done talking about this. We're about two hours from freedom. All right? It's closed."
But Max wasn't letting go of it, Jacob could see it in his eyes, the way his jaw was set, the rigid stance he held in his seat. He'd been like this for weeks now, and it wasn't like the months before then had been all that great either. But he was reaching a boiling point.
Max shifted in his seat. "What do you want me to say, Jacob? What can I say to get you to at least admit that this is shady."
"How about you say 'thank you'?" Jacob replied, and Max sighed. But Jacob felt his own stubbornness surface, digging in its heels. "I'd really appreciate a 'thank you' right about now, Max, because after this job, the final bonus kicks in, and we never have to work a day in our lives. We're retired after this, Max. Retired. At forty three. How many people get to say that? Do you know how many people would've fucking killed for this job? How hard I had to work to get this contract? Six months of work for a million credits, Max. I could've found someone else, or I could've done this by myself. I could have, but I didn't. I went and I found you and I talked you into it."
Max's frown was only deepening. "I guess you got it all figured out, huh?"
"I guess I do," Jacob replied, then cursed inside, cursed himself. He was getting worked up, getting pissed, and Max didn't deserve this.
He had a point, but it wasn't their business.
"Come on, man. What is this shit? Six months, back and forth between Callisto and Europa. All this extra security? I mean, they make us lock ourselves in our rooms while they do the loading. Who the hell does that? What are they really putting on our ship?"
"It's a prison moon, Max. They take their security pretty seriously. And you saw it same as I did, it was medical supplies."
"What the hell is a prison doing shipping 'medical supplies' to Europa? And what about the attacks? How do you explain that? We keep shipping out to Europa and then bam, they get hit by some weird sickness?" Max asked, his tone sharpening even further.
But Jacob felt like he was on firmer ground here. Max had a point. The UJC was doing something dark and dirty, but the rest of it? That was a fairy tale. He'd been thinking about this in that way you found yourself doing when you were having the same arguments again and again, mulling over it in bed, staring into the darkness, trying to sleep, thinking of the occasional good point you were going to make next time you got into again, and hoping you'd remember.
"By the Outer Way? Max, you're looking for messages in mist. You're connecting dots that have nothing to do with each other. We're one of, what, a dozen crews doing this exact same job? Yeah Europa got hit, yeah we dropped off some medical supplies there, but why is that suddenly connected? Remember when we were running that job to Io? And the Outer Way blew that power station? I don't remember you saying a damn thing then. Because you knew the truth: there's no connection. Shit just happens, Max."
Max didn't say anything. Jacob realized that they were getting dangerously close to fighting. This was just a debate, a heated one, but not a fight. Not yet. He'd never once swung on Max. Not one time in his whole life. And he didn't intend to do so right now. But he was in a punching kind of mood, stomach all riled up, sweat pouring down his face and neck. So close to that fat paycheck he could practically taste it.
Terrified of losing it all at the last instant.
A warning suddenly chimed, cutting through the thick tension on the bridge and shifting them both back into professionals in an instant. Each man studied their control station.
"We got a yellow light in the cargo hold," Max said.
"Eh, probably nothing," Jacob muttered, studying the readout.
This damn ship was falling apart. He'd been cutting corners on maintenance because he was going to just sell the whole damn thing right after this run. Probably to a scrapper, and there wasn't any point in putting in the creds on something that was going to be scrapped. Jacob frowned, though, as he felt a stab of paranoia.
What if something damaged that special cargo?
"On the other hand, maybe it's something," he said, unstrapping and getting to his feet.
"It's probably nothing," Max said.
"Call me paranoid, but I want to check it out."
"I might need your help, let's at least get out of the gravity well, then you can check it."
Jacob hesitated, glancing uncertainly at his copilot. Why did he suddenly want him here? If anything, he should be glad for any excuse to separate them. Jacob sure was. Things were getting too heated and if he kept going, he was going to say or even do something he'd regret for the rest of his life.
That had happened too many times in the past already.
"Hey," Jacob said, trying to smooth his fray nerves back out, get his emotions back in check, he grabbed the lighter out of Max's hand, "you shouldn't worry so much, man. You'll live longer."
He reached back around behind himself and tossed the lighter. Max caught it and sighed. He didn't say anything, but he did relax, just a little. Jacob stretched, feeling something pop in his back, then headed out of the bridge.