Smuggler, pilot for hire. Nils focused on the information scrolling on the display rather than Celenes hand braced on the back of his seat. He has a few outstanding subpoenas for trafficking black market goods.
Untrustworthy. She narrowed her eyes.
Not an upstanding citizen, no.
Hello? Gabelas voice came fainter now. Unknown pilot, you still there? Situation
critical on this end.
What is your situation? Nils asked.
Ran into a debris storm. Took out propulsion systems, life support on emergency power. Ive got maybe four solar hours left. You going to help, or what?
Nils clicked off his end of the com. His ships a standard hauler. I could get him up and running in less than a solar hour.
Tension resonated through Celenes posture. She balanced on the balls of her feet as if ready to fight. Could be another ambush.
He remembered the debriefing report he had read. She had been on patrol when she responded to another distress signal. And went straight into a trap that nearly cost the 8 thWing a Black Wraith, as well as Celenes freedom. Easy to see why she would be wary of making the same mistake twice.
These past few days had taught him well: Celene Jur had earned her reputation. Nothing had been given to her.
Mara Skiren used to be a smuggler, he said now. She would know him.
Celene nodded. Lets get her on the line. They would be breaking com silence, but 8 thWing never ignored a distress call.
Quickly, Nils patched them through an encrypted line to base. Trouble already? Ensign Skiren asked.
Akash Gabelas giving us a distress signal, Nils said. Says hes drifting and solar hours away from life support failure.
Can we trust him? Celene asked.
Gabelas a terrible geluk player, Mara said, and hell drink all your Lulani rum the second your back is turned. But he doesnt run bait and switch. If he says hes in trouble, hes in trouble. Besides, she added, that grizzled bastard knows the darker sectors of the galaxy. He could give you some valuable intel.
Then you vouch for him? Nils asked.
Ensign Skirens laugh was rueful. As much as one former scum can vouch for another. A deeper, masculine voice sounded behind her, and her response was another husky chuckle. Oh, you get off on having a shady lover. What? Going to give me a spanking?
I dont think shes speaking to us, said Nils, dry.
Save the dirty talk for later, Celene said into the com. If you say that Gabelas trustworthyreasonably trustworthyweve got to help him out.
Tell that son of a dirtroach that he still owes me for that case of Lulani rum, answered Skiren. And stay safe.
After signing out, Nils cut the com line. He glanced at Celene, seeing the wariness that tightened her mouth, the nervous energy that made her tap her fingers against the control panel.
Theres a difference between what happened last time and this, he noted.
She raised one neatly arched black brow.
This time, he said, you arent alone.
By the ten demon lords, I never thought youd get here. Akash Gabela trundled toward Nils and Celene as they stood in his loading bay. After responding to Gabelas signal, their ships had linked, and, with plasma pistols ready just in case, they had come aboard.
We didnt know if we could trust you, Celene answered.
Gabela wheezed a laugh. He had the short stature and green skin of a Dejanian, and he hobbled around on a sherica-powered artificial limb. It wasnt the newest in tech, hissing a little with each step, but the smuggler seemed unbothered by it.
Youre 8 thWing. Gabela shuffled closer. So I know I can trust you. Bunch of galactic do-gooders.
If you want PRAXIS running the galaxy, Nils said, controlling every aspect of your life, and death, by all means, well gladly step aside. I hear the PRAXIS prison barges are particularly brutal.
Fine, fine. Despite the smugglers grumbling, his skin paled. We going to stand here all day, using up the last of my oxygen, or we going to fix my damn ship?
Were fixing your damn ship, Celene answered. Take us to the damage.
Nils was already striding down the passageway toward the systems room. I know the way.
Want some tools? Gabela shouted after him. Mine couldnt do shit to fix the damage, but you might have better luck with em.
Brought my own. He hefted the satchel slung over his shoulder.
Celene was at his side, her long legs matching his stride. You studied the ships schematics before we linked.
He shook his head. Haulers usually follow the same configuration. I take what knowledge I already have and extrapolate the rest. He glanced over when he heard her low laugh.
Most people are either attractive or smart. Seldom both.
He almost stumbled. You think Im attractive too?
Assuming I already consider you smart.
Thats a given.
They reached the door to the systems room. The control panel wouldnt respond to his fingers on the keypad,
so he had to pry the heavy door open. Celene provided assistance, tugging on the thick metal until it opened with a groan.
Inside the systems room, the atmospheric temperature soared, a symptom of the failing life support. Torn wires and ripped-out panels lay on the floor, and a huge gouge ran the length of the external bulkhead. The blackness of space showed through the gouge. Fortunately, the ship had enough power left to generate an electrical shield over the tear, or else everything would have been sucked out into the void.