Page 1 of Escape Velocity

Chapter One

Maxwell Cassidy had a bad feeling about this gig. Every instinct told him to turn around and head for some other planet. Any other planet. But he’d promised to pick up a mysterious package on Naxion and deliver it to his friend Rafe Cortez in Port City on Danalon.

He put the Golden Fleece into low orbit around the dark planet, checked the coordinates for the rendezvous point, and then sent a brief burst of syllables to the men who were supposed to be waiting for him.

The quick reply didn’t necessarily reassure him. There was always the possibility of an ambush when you played outside the law. And this trip definitely fit that description. Naxion was off-limits to normal contact. But Rafe had promised Max that the Feds would look the other way.

Before powering up the shuttle, he checked the charge in his beamer and set it on half power. If he got into a fight with these guys, he preferred not to add a murder charge to smuggling.

After taking care of a few more strategic preparations, the last thing he did was pull on the synthoskin mask Rafe had told him to wear. It covered his whole head and featured a collection of bumps and warts that would have sent a garamonster scuttling for cover.

“They don’t look like us,” his friend had said. “Better to fit in as best as you can.”

He shuddered at the ugly visage that stared back at him in the mirror, then grabbed the bag of gems he’d brought as payment for the contraband and secured it to his belt.

Satisfied there were no more precautions he could take, he climbed into the shuttle craft. As he approached the surface, he saw patches of low vegetation, massive forests, walled compounds in widely separated locations, and gaping swaths of land that looked like they had been blasted by giant energy beams. Probably true, because the word was that factions on Naxion had been fighting for decades—one of the chief reasons the planet was off-limits. At least in this area, there were no cities, only isolated strongholds.

He would have preferred to sneak up on the rendezvous spot, but there was no way to hide a small craft coming down like a meteor from a wide yellow sky. Too bad rock outcroppings were the only cover.

He flew over a group of people clustered twenty meters outside a circle outlined with small rocks—a landing marker that could easily be broken up to disguise the purpose. The tactic told him something about the meeting. It was probably just as illegal for the natives to welcome an offworlder as it was for him to be coming down from orbit.

The reception party all wore long, hooded cloaks. Three raised their heads to stare at him. One kept his face down.

Not far from the group was a wooden wagon pulled by what looked like an ox. Oxcarts and energy weapons—an interesting combo.

Circling the area, Max noted the mucky patches around the landing spot and wondered why they hadn’t found a better place. He checked to make sure nobody else was hiding within shooting distance, then set down behind some huge boulder that separated him from the designated landing spot.

After opening the shuttle door and securing it behind him, he stepped around the natural barrier and faced the group of four.

Three of them threw back their hoods and looked at him expectantly. The third was still hiding his face.

Max struggled not to gasp as he took in the appearance of the welcome party. Any of them could have stepped out of a children’s nightmare. All were short and wide, with the blotchy red faces of skin cancer victims. Adding to the nauseating effect were the various-sized lumps that dotted their skin, He’d thought the mask he was wearing was hideous. It was nothing compared to what these guys woke up to every morning.

One of them took a step toward him and spoke in heavily accented standard speech. “You bring . . . payment?”

“If you have my merchandise,” he replied. He was outnumbered, and he didn’t like the confident look in the alien’s bloodshot eyes. This guy was sure he had the situation under control, and he was planning something tricky.

“Show.”

“Where’s my package?”

“No package. Kawanda.”

Another of the men pushed the hooded figure forward.

At the rough shove, the captive almost lost his balance and fell in the mud. As he fought to steady himself, Max saw his hands were secured behind his back.

Fates, what was this guy? A criminal? Or just dangerous? And what the hell did Rafe want with him?

He wavered on his feet a few meters away.

Unprepared for this new development, Max blinked. “The cargo is a person?”

“Dung to us. Valuable—to you.”

“Gods,” he muttered. He’d come here for merchandise. What kind of exchange was this anyway?

“You no want?”

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