CHAPTER ONE
NOT THAT GOOD A FRIEND
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No man could truly enjoy his drink with a gun pressed to his side. Star stiffened and kept his eyes on the acrylic glass. The thought of being shot made it difficult to appreciate the subtle spices in the brandy.
The barrel of the weapon pulled away from his side, just enough to alleviate the pressure.
Star had no delusion it was no longer trained on him. He raised his eyes from the transparent counter, eyeing the back of the bar.
Rows of black shelves hung along the wall. Electric blue light illuminated the panels holding the bottles of alcohol. A lone mirror sat opposite the bar, reflecting the soft lighting to make the place feel larger than it was. Halogen red strips arced along where the walls met each other and the ceiling—an added bit of visuals that did nothing to enhance the otherwise dismal black of the surrounding furniture and paint.
“You know, Star, there’s only so many places to look before you’ll have to look at me.” The man’s voice was made of smoke and whisky.
Mostly whisky, Star noted. But he recognized the voice and turned to greet the gunman. “Zheer.” Star inclined his head.
Zheer had a face made from sharp edges and weathered skin done no favors by a complexion that needed to see more light. He ran a gloved hand through his brush of black hair. His eyes carried a mischievous gleam that did nothing to soften the cold, iron grays that drowned out the tinge of blues. “You weren’t exactly hard to find, you know?”
Star exhaled in relief, moving his glass from side-to-side with his index and middle fingers. “Who says I’m hiding?”
Zheer held up a finger with his free hand. He stowed the bulky revolver into the folds of his heavy, olive-toned canvas coat. His hand emerged from the clothing with a stark white piece of paper.
Star arched a brow. “Really?”
Zheer shrugged. “I look like I’m going to carry ‘round a lens?” He flipped the paper around, holding it an angle so only Star could view it. “That, and the mighty princely sum below it says you’re hiding.”
Star’s mouth twitched before breaking into a lopsided smile. “It’s not hiding if you’re running, is it?”
Zheer mimicked his expression before stowing the sheet. “You’re wondering if I’m here to collect.”
Star’s brow raised higher. “Are you?” His fingers drummed along the counter.
It consisted of thin films of clear carbon and printed titanium weaves as fine as hair. The metal gave the counter the slight silvery sparkle under the bar lighting. And it wasn’t easy to break in fight.
Shame.
“I might have had a terrible temptation to.” Zheer turned to look ahead at the far end of the bar.
Might have.
Star mirrored Zheer, staring down the way. “I take it if you’ve found me, not long before men of a more officious nature end up here.”
Zheer grunted, reaching out to snag Star’s drink. He took a swig and slammed the glass down harder than necessary.
The bartender, a man made of whipcord muscle and knotted wood, gave him a look. His thin lips pulled down to one side in what could have been the start of a disapproving frown. The dark-featured man held the stare before busying himself refilling another man’s drink.
Zheer exhaled through his nose. “Government and corporations are after you. Expect trouble of the private, well-armed, and not-so-nice, and law-abiding kind.”
Star rolled his eyes. “Corporations are the government last I checked.”
Zheer waved a dismissive hand. “Think they used to call that semantics. Still, for the money they’re offering, won’t be long till more than just those bodies will be after you. We’re talking citizens, less than savory sorts. Heck, Liberation Movement folks will be after you. Separatists—extremists too. You know what they’re like. Always crowing on about how the government and those that serve ‘em are dogs needin’ to be put down. They’re just as ruthless and maybe crazier. You’re going to need friends and one heck of a corner to hide in.”
Star pulled his drink back, swirling the amber fluid around without wanting to take a sip. “So, question is: Are you friend, Zheer?”
Zheer clicked his tongue. “Not as good as one as I should be. Showed up just in time to tell you to get what you came for and run.”
Star plunked his glass down, fishing in his pockets for a sliver of metal. He pulled free a thin card of palladium, stamped with its weight and the name of the company that had printed the currency. “Ought to cover my drink and yours.”
Zheer stared at the card. “Yeah, and several more of mine to come.” He raised a brow, and gave Star a knowing look. “What’d you do?”
“The right thing. Isn’t that the sort that always lands you in the most trouble?”
Zheer nodded more to himself than Star. “Yeah, that’s about the way it goes. But I should’ve been clearer.” Zheer’s eyes hardened. “What’d you steal?”
Star rose, eyeing his surroundings without turning his head. He counted thirty-two people cramped within the place. That was enough hands to start a good deal of trouble should the need arise.
His stomach twisted and let him know it may come to that. “Who says I stole a thing?”
Zheer recovered the drink, tipping it back until it was drained. “I say. I’m not stupid. It’s known around some of the circles that you went to Autumn—backwards world if ever there was one—and then the government quarantines the place. Next thing the galaxy over knows is the whole world’s declared a threat. Military hammers it from orbit till it’s nothing but glass and dust. Now, in all of that, there’re rumors of one little ship making it off world.”
Star said nothing. When a place was so far out the way of well-traveled routes, someone was bound to think it was backwards. All it made them was wrong for thinking that.
“And I’ve got a pretty good guess as to what that ship looks like. Tell me if I’m wrong, eh? Double Y-frame, sleek little thing retrofitted to be lighter, more efficient on fuel—faster. That sound about right so far?”
Star ignored him, staring at the only entrance to the bar. It was just wide enough to fit two broad-shouldered men at the same time. Convenient if he needed to get out. Not so much if a group of people were looking to get in. His lips pressed together.
“Thing’s damn near military, minus the fact I know it’s not much in the way of weapons. Those ships weren’t ever popular for much but smuggling, and in your case—shepherding. How am I doing so far?”
Star’s teeth ground against each other. “Annoyingly, like you’re heading to a point I may not want to hear.”
Zheer grinned. “Leaving a planet ain’t a crime. So, makes me wonder what got the government so hot on Autumn to waste it like it did. The planet was some kind of threat. Putting a price on you is pointless unless you walked away with something you shouldn’t have.” Zheer’s grin slipped, replaced by a cold glare that made his face look like a porcelain mask.
“Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I’m doing my job, shepherding. Maybe I’m taking something somewhere it belongs, and that rankles the powers that be.” Star matched Zheer’s stare. “What I’m carrying doesn’t belong to anyone. It belongs to everyone.” His look hardened enough to make the metal card seem brittle. “Remember that.”
Zheer lifted his hands in a gesture of resignation. “I will. I’ll make certain they mention that in your eulogy.”
Star moved from the counter, heading toward the exit. A hand closed on his wrist. He turned his head a fraction, enough to look at Zheer.
“Might want to sit back down.” Zheer nodded toward the entrance.
Star followed his look and hissed.
A group of men entered the bar. They moved in unison, walking with the posture and pacing drilled into them through years of military service. Each dressed in the same crisp, black uniform. Silver buttons ran down the middle, pinning one half of their coats over the other all the way up to their high collars. A single copper bar, half the width and length of Star’s thumb, was pinned to their breast of their coats.
“Men like that might take notice of a man like you—wanted and all—especially since you’re standing when everyone else is sitting.” Zheer nodded to the stool.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Star averted his gaze and took his seat. “Well, this is going to get bad and fast.”
Zheer tilted his head in a way of agreement. “Yeah, sort of expect that with you.” One corner of his mouth pulled up in what could have been the start of a smile.
Star glowered. “Won’t take them long to make me out. They’ll likely have lenses with my face brought out to the best resolution the government can produce.”
Zheer nodded. “Not long at all.”
Star exchanged a glance with him. “Don’t suppose you have a plan? One you’re willing to share with an old friend? Maybe make my trip last a lot longer than stopping right here.”
“And how long is that?” The light in Zheer’s eyes intensified.
“All the way to the end?” Star hoped more sincerity than grit and alcohol colored his voice.
Zheer shook his head. “No. Sorry, but like I said, I ain’t that good a friend. But I can help you find the man to take you there and back again.” His face broke into a wide smile like he was pleased with himself.
“Is it too much to hope that that man’s here and in a disposition to want to help me?”
Zheer’s laugh came in a muffled series of light puffs through his nose. “Call it a bit of luck in your otherwise shitty day.” He jerked a thumb to his side, gesturing down the counter.
The man Zheer pointed at was in his early thirties at first glance, wearing a simple white shirt and black pants. He kept his hair longer than finger length, swept back. The rich black of it caught the blue lighting from the bar and seemed a deeper color. His face could have been carved from maple wood. It was all chiseled edges and angular cheek bones.
“And he is?” Star turned back to Zheer.
“A pilot. The sort you need. Has no love for the fine gentlemen who just entered this establishment.” Zheer shot a quick glance to the uniformed men.
“I am a pilot.”
Zheer coughed. It didn’t sound any less condescending than if he had laughed. “He’s better.”
Star weighed the decision. “And he’s got no love for the military—government?” He eyed Zheer askance.
“None.” Zheer shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking. He’s looking for work. Good work, mind you. I’m betting you’ve got that. And, yes, he’ll be wanting to lay low and out of sight of the military if he can. Means you’ve got a pilot with a semblance of the same goal as you—only, better than you.”
Star scowled. “Semblance doesn’t mean the same. You’ve got a point though. He won’t need too much convincing?”
“Oooh, I’m thinking not much now.” Zheer gestured with a glance to the pilot.
One of the military men put a hand on his shoulder, turning the pilot away from his drink. The uniformed man had a generous amount of flesh in his face that should have burned away during his training. His sloped brow and thick lips did him no favors either. The button-like eyes set deep in his face only added to his near-comical appearance. He leaned close to the pilot. “Have time to help the military? It’ll be a public service.”
The pilot blinked. He had sharp, hooded eyes the color of rum under a bright light. Their glow seemed dulled, likely by the drinks he’d been consuming. He looked up to the man in uniform. “Did my fair share of service. Lot of it public. Some, not so much.” He waved his hand dismissively, turning back to the bar.
The military men exchanged glances that morphed into the same look. Their brows furrowed, jaws hardened, and eyes narrowed.
If looks could kill. Star brushed aside his long coat with a swipe of a hand. He reached to his waist before Zheer leaned over and clamped his hand on Star’s wrist.
The man with the button eyes grabbed hold of the pilot’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the meat between his neck and the joint. He grunted and spun the pilot around. “Let me clarify.” The soldier cleared his throat. “Not helping us, in even the smallest of capacities, can be construed as obstructing a government investigation.”
The pilot blinked slowly, as if he struggled to remember how. “Construe it how you want.” His mouth moved like it was too much effort to speak, the way Star would expect from someone who’d spent his time drinking hard in the bar. “I don’t even know what it is you want.”
The soldier held out his hand. Another placed a thin sheet of translucent acrylic material onto his palm. He brought it forward, raising his hand to ensure the pilot could see it. The button-eyed man pressed his thumb to one corner of the sheet. It flickered internally with white light before dissipating. An image materialized above the card in full color. The density and brightness of the pixels made the three-dimensional portrait appear opaque.
The pilot stared at the photo, almost looking through it. He teetered in his chair, not far enough to fall but enough to startle the soldiers by him.
Two of them moved to his sides to steady him.
The pilot took no notice, keeping his gaze fixed on the image. “And?”
Button-eyes looked to the picture, then the pilot. “Look familiar?”
He looked familiar to Star. Awfully so.
A dark-featured man stared back from the lens’s display. He had skin like warm sand and eyes a few shades darker, much like the brandy Star had been enjoying. Dark brows edging on the thick side and thicker hair worn past ear length, swept back. His nose was on the thin side—aquiline. A few days’ worth of stubble lined his hard jaw. The man’s cheekbones weren’t quite as pronounced as the pilot’s.
Zheer exhaled through clenched teeth. “Well, that’s you done, isn’t it?”
Star pulled up the collar of his coat, retreating into it. It was a small hope that they’d only probe a few patrons before moving on. His ribs twinged as Zheer’s elbow bounced off them. He peered out from the confines of his long coat. “What?”
Zheer nodded to the scene.
The pilot held his stare on Star’s image. His gaze flicked in Star’s direction for a microsecond that went unnoticed by the soldiers.
The brandy from earlier felt like it had risen from his stomach to congeal into a cold cube blocking his throat. Star swallowed it.
“No. Never seen ‘em before. Why?” The pilot’s face was a neutral mask that could have given lessons in stillness to steel.
“Look harder.” The button-eyed soldier pushed the card closer.
“What’s he done?” The pilot held his stare with the soldier, but Star felt like the glare was meant for him.
Question of the day. Star lowered his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the conversation.
“Stolen government property.” The soldier’s voice hadn’t wavered. They’d likely been fed the lie and told to repeat it until it was a reflex.
Star’s fingers curled, tightening until they balled into fists.
The pilot’s mouth twitched. “Serious crime. Can’t help you, though. Done my best; never seen the man.”
The button-eyed soldier sighed in resignation, the strength leaving his shoulders. “Fine. Can’t be helped. I’ll need your citizenry identification card to log that we’ve questioned you, to follow up if need be.”
The pilot’s lips pressed thin. He raised a hand, upturning it while digging into his pants with his other hand. A black card emerged from his pocket pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He handed it over.
The soldier plucked it from his grip, swiping it through a groove in the lens that was barely wide enough to accommodate the card. Star’s image flickered like the display had lost its ability to render it properly. His features morphed into the pilot. The soldier’s eyes darted over the text scrolling through the air beside the image. “Ahiko Kohiba. Age: thirty-five. Occupation: unemployed. Former status: navy—pilot, honorably discharged.”
Star gave Zheer a look.
“I told you he had problems with them. I don’t know much of what; I didn’t ask. I reckon he’s got more cause to hate them than you. He knew ‘em better, after all.”
Star’s look intensified. He imagined his glare as shards of glass stabbing Zheer. “That’s trouble I don’t need. There’s ‘not fond of the government,’ and there’s being one of them. That kind of fallout, whatever it is, always leads to complications.”
Zheer shrugged as if it were inconsequential. “Sometimes a man’s needs outweigh the luxuries. He’s the best. He’s here. He’s looking for work. Those are all things you need. Not to mention the fact I’m the one who called him here on account of knowing you’d need a hand.” His face remained neutral, but a hint of light entered his eyes.
Star stared at him nonplussed.
“All the help I could offer. Don’t make a liar out of me, Star. Promised him a good job is all.”
The button-eyed soldier handed Ahiko’s card back. His surly demeanor sobered, and he stepped to the counter beside the pilot. “Didn’t know you were one of us. Sorry for the attitude; you know how it is.”
Ahiko’s face tightened for a moment. The silent expression made it clear to Star that the pilot knew exactly how it was. Ahiko’s fingers drummed against his glass, their speed picking up by the second.
Zheer leaned closer to him. “Did I mention our boy has a temper?”
Star stared.
“No? Well, now’s the time to let you know. And I’ve got one of those feelings.”
Star rose from his seat, cursing himself.
Ahiko hiccupped, raising his glass to his face. He looked over the edge like he was searching for something. The pilot got to his feet and thrust the hand holding the glass toward one of the soldiers.
Alcohol splashed over the soldier’s face, beads peppering his dark, umber skin. His fingers went to his eyes. “Ackh.” The soldier’s features tightened as he rubbed his face. The other soldiers rushed the pilot.
Ahiko struck an open-handed blow against the button-eyed soldier’s ear, driving him sideways. “I know how it is. I know how y’all discharged me too!” he slurred.
Great. A drunk. Star doubled his pace, rushing to Ahiko’s aid. He lashed out with an open hand, hooking his fingers around the collar of the man’s uniform. His biceps strained as he pulled the man close. Star twisted at the waist, pulling the soldier down at an angle. He released his grip.
The man stumbled off-balance and careened into a circular table a couple of feet off the ground. He toppled it over. A multicolor assortment of drinks splashed over a group of men sitting on their knees. Glassware thunked onto the ground, clattering before rolling away undamaged.
The men looked at the wet splotches on their clothing before glaring at the fallen soldier. They set on him in a drunken frenzy.
Star looked over his shoulder for help.
Zheer stared over the edge of a glass, flashing him a wink before tipping the drink back.
Bastard. Star turned to face a soldier rushing him, arms outstretched. He shot a glance to Ahiko.
The pilot teetered against the bar like he had forgotten how to stand properly. His back collided with it, bending further than normal. He rode the momentum and tumbled onto the counter. Ahiko’s foot snapped up, the tip connecting with the underside of another soldier’s chin.
The blow lifted the man onto the tips of his toes before he sank back to even footing, rocking on his feet. He collapsed into a heap a second later.
Star lurched forward as a soldier grabbed hold of his coat and hauled him close. He slammed an open hand into the man’s face, digging his thumb into the corner of one of his eyes. His fingernails raked the skin around the soldier’s brow.
The soldier screamed, releasing his hold and stumbling back to paw at his face.
Star covered the distance between them, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him into a group of patrons engrossed in their own world.
They weren’t pleased by that. The drunkards took hold of the soldier, raining blows down on him.
Ahiko staggered forward like he was losing his balance and proper use of his legs. He lumbered into a soldier, grabbing hold of him for support. Ahiko fell backward and dragged the solider along with him. He released his grip, letting the other man’s forehead crash into the counter.
Star blinked at the drunken pilot’s movements. There were discordant bursts of energy throughout his stumbling that made it appear like he was in complete control.
Ahiko slumped against the counter before falling to his bottom.
Star reconsidered his thoughts about the pilot’s control. He caught movement out of the corner of his vision.
The button-eyed soldier held the display lens up for everyone in close view to see. Star’s face stared back at him.
His eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.
All eyes turned to the lens, and the reward displayed below.
Ahiko hiccupped, staring from the image to Star. “Hell, maybe I should’ve turned you in.” He looked to the soldier. “Turns out I have seen that man.”
Star reached for his gun.