Page 13 of Star Champion

“Arik…” She saw now what he was trying to do for her: offering her the option of lying about the tug’s mechanical condition to protect her from the doctored paperwork and the coming darkness.

But there was no way she could take him up on it. Nico was at this very second waiting for her in the city, wondering where she was.

Arik mistook her frown for something else. He poked a thumb at the other loaders who were heading back to their barracks for the night. “A solo bunk, don’t ya fret.” He pressed a gloved hand to his heart. “Without me trying to share it with ya. A noble sacrifice on my part, true, but I’m a giver that way.”

She laughed. “Aye. Ya are. And many thanks for your kindness. But I’ve got to get back to the city tonight. I can’t be late.”

He pretended to frown. “What’s his name?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I have time to run around.”

“Then why run back at all? What’s there for ya?”

Everything. The chance to make my dreams come true.“It’s a family thing. I promised I’d be there.” It was the closest she could veer to the truth of Nico booking her a gig in a new bar. After three weeks of Eighthnight successes they had both agreed she could fit in a midweek match. Miguel Arran would not be happy about the idea, but that was his problem; they hadn’t signed an exclusive. But, the new bar owner wouldn’t be very happy, either, if she showed up late. No, she couldn’t tell Arik any of that.

He would never believe it anyway.

“Aye, then, Jemm. See ya next time, tugger. A safe drive to ya.” He winked then saluted her with the tablet in his hand then walked off to bellow orders to the other loaders. Their voices drowned in the rumble of the engine as she carefully rolled forward toward the city and the setting sun.

With the extra weight she was hauling, the tug felt sluggish and slow to pick up speed. Far ahead of her she could make out the lights and the dust kicked up from another tug, a straggler like her, heading home from one of the closer-in smelters. Soon it had sped away and she was all alone.

She wasn’t afraid. Unlike everyone she knew, she actually liked being alone. Back in the city, life was lived elbow to elbow, a stinking, shouting, shoving existence. Chaos. Out here, the solitude quieted her thoughts much like the inner peace she found in bajha.

Dusk was kind to Barésh, disguising the colony’s flaws the way shadows camouflaged the tired eyes and pockmarked skin of a bottom-tier sex server advertising her wares from the darkness of an alcove. Even the ugly brown, ever-present smog had transformed into a warm glow that gilded the skyline. But soon enough, as she drew ever closer to the processing plant, reality would reappear, detail by squalid detail, and the city would once again be all she could see and smell and hear. But for now, she was free of it.

From the seat of her tug, she watched the horizon extinguish the sun, and felt the air chill. In all the years of ore hauling, she had crossed the badlands after dome-set only once before. She remembered being surprised by how beautiful it was, and it was no different this time around. The dome lost its opaqueness, becoming star-filled. The whirl of heavenly bodies was eye-catching in the middle of the city center but out here on the darkened plains it left her in a state of humbled awe.

The Old City looked especially magical with its unique buildings shaped like upside-down funnels converging in pointy, silvered caps, one of them the roof over her family’s apartment. They were the oldest structures on Barésh, predating the Trade Federation and constructed by the same ancients who built the dome. The long-vanished race possessed technology that was responsible for the wormholes the starships traveled, the handheld comms that allowed the privileged to call anywhere in the galaxy in real-time for a chat, and many other wonders Da had taught her about.

She could sure use one of those fancy comms now to let her brother know where she was. She was rolling along at a virtual crawl compared to usual. Could she coax a bit more speed out of the overloaded tug? The engine rumbled evenly, despite the strain of extra cargo. All the readings were within limits. “We’re all gonna have to work a little harder tonight,” she said, goosing the throttle.

The engine did not seem to mind. The oil temperature crept toward redline but she would keep an eye on it. So far, so good.

Nico was probably at the bar by now. She could picture him waiting outside for her, a vape pinched between his fingers, the other hand buried in his pocket, his shoulders hunched. Everything was more difficult for Nico when he was sober, his pain sharper, even after all this time. But they had a standing agreement: no alcohol until after her last match of the night. He had kept his end of the deal for weeks, had not complained, taking his role as manager and promoter seriously. Both of them were stoked by her unbroken string of wins. She would not let him down tonight.

Hang on, Nic. Almost there.

It was full dark now. Grit swirled in her headlights. She squinted ahead, watching for large rocks and potholes, one hand on the wheel, the canisters of ore clanking in the trailer. She was ready to think she had made it to the city limits without a glitch when there was a flash in the dual cones of her headlights.

Something solid had darted across her high beams.

A prickle of apprehension told her that she was no longer alone. A half a heartbeat later a pack of small beings spilled out of the darkness and swarmed in front of the tug.

CHAPTER4

Jemm yankedon the emergency brake, steering into the skid, the trailer swinging too wildly for the weight. Somehow she got it stopped without losing the load.

A rock struck the windshield with a bang. The hardened glass did not break but she jerked back all the same. She drew out her sidearm, standing up in the cab to flip on the overhead floodlight switch in the ceiling. It illuminated a gang of children, some who looked as young as three standard years old. They surrounded the tug, pelting it with rocks, while the older ones were hanging on to an ore canister, trying to pry it loose from the trailer.

Scurries.

“Be off with ya!” she yelled outside like an irritated mother. “Git! Now. Or I’ll shoot your little heads off!”

A rock half the size of her fist whipped through the open side window and hit her in the right arm. Her leathers blunted the impact but it still smarted. She fired a warning shot toward the trailer to protect the ore. A stream of green-white plasma hit the ground right where she wanted it. The burst was impressive and would get anyone’s attention. The outer ring of scurries scattered like rock-roaches, but the main cluster remained in place, intent on worrying the canister loose like a bad tooth.

Before the orange glow of molten sand had extinguished, the scurries she had spooked had returned to help the others. They seemed fearless.

Or, maybe they were merely desperate, like her.

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