Rogue Pursuit: A Space Opera Adventure (Shades of Starlight Book 1), page 1
ROGUE PURSUIT
©2023 B.L. DEAN
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ALSO IN SERIES:
Rogue Pursuit
Pirate’s Code
Shadow Games
Final Break
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Thank you for reading Rogue Pursuit!
1
Perrin Hightower’s curiosity was at war with her desire not to get arrested.
Curiosity was winning.
But come on—a set of coordinates and an anonymous coded message asking her to smuggle the unknown load she’d find? A black hole couldn’t stop her from checking that out.
She dodged crumpled papers and dented cans as she followed the coordinates on her comp-pad down a narrow street. The map led her away from the space terminal, toward a run-down neighborhood from the last Era. Small cafés, corner markets, and tech repair shops gave way to sagging houses and closed businesses. The streets were mostly deserted. The construction of the towering terminal a couple decades ago had caused a mass migration of people who didn’t want hundreds of noisy spaceships for neighbors.
The stray dogs didn’t seem to mind. They eyed her hungrily. Two guys Perrin’s age huddled in an alley, engaged in a shady deal.
Getting arrested might not be a problem after all. Long before she reached the stash, she was probably going to get mugged.
Her hand went to the spot on her thigh where her holster would rest if civilians were allowed weapons on Ruby Prime. The self-defense moves her ex-boyfriend had taught her wouldn’t help much if those guys got ideas.
She met their gazes before deliberately continuing on like she didn’t care what business they were up to. And she didn’t, considering the nature of her own mission.
The comp-pad was a poor replacement for her gun, but she switched to scan mode and confirmed they weren’t following. No life signs ahead, either.
She was still wrapping her mind around the fact that someone thought she was insane enough to take a smuggling job on the most powerful planet in the galaxy. She should’ve been contemplating why the challenge thrilled her instead of sending her sprinting in the opposite direction.
When she rounded another corner, a huge building loomed before her. The shape of a beehive, the mound filled the entire block. Most of the surface was a faded honey color, but patches had tarnished to sickly gray. Dull metal shutters covered the hexagon-shaped windows. Letters above the door said UB AY ST TION.
She didn’t know exactly when the city had installed its raised maglev system, but it appeared no one had used the subway since.
Well, no one had used the cars. Plenty of people had used the outside to practice their spray-painting skills.
The map confirmed this was where the coordinates led. Perrin stopped next to the boarded-up door and scoped out the street. She didn’t see any cameras, but she activated the signal jammer on her belt to be safe.
Above her, an engine roared as a ship approached the space terminal she’d come from.
“I’m at the location, Mak,” she said to her pilot and friend through the secure comm on her collar.
“What’s it look like?” the other girl’s voice asked in Perrin’s ear.
She sounded warier than Perrin felt, which seemed unfair since Makara sat safely on their ship, ready to take off and leave Perrin behind if things went south.
Perrin studied the arching door, also shuttered, and chained shut.
“I’m on a run-down street in the old urban sector,” she said. “It looks like a gruesome murder waiting to happen. Probably mine.”
“Any sign of Network activity?”
“Depends. Has the Network started employing rats?” She focused her scanner on the building’s interior. No signs of human life. Rodent life, however, was so abundant she wouldn’t be surprised to find they’d colonized the entire building and gone on to build high-rise apartments.
Graffiti splashed across every surface of the building, in offensive shades of neon green, bright orange, hot pink, and black. Why did people feel the need to write their initials and stupid nicknames on public walls?
Wait. On a board over a window, bright blue paint showed a circular symbol, the Onyx Network’s code to indicate hidden goods.
“I think I see something.” She moved to the window. The blue symbol was fresher than the letters it covered.
“A person?” Mak asked. “Cargo?”
Perrin tugged on the shutter. It popped off more easily than metal screwed into concrete should have, leaving a gap big enough for her to fit through. Why was she considering this? It was a terrible idea. But the mysterious goods that waited inside called to her. She needed to know what was so important that someone asked her to risk everything—her business, her freedom, her life—to retrieve them.
“A Network symbol. On an abandoned subway station.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m going in.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I’m fairly certain it’s not.”
“I can still join you for backup.”
“Thanks, Mak, but I’ll handle it. You and Dodge keep loading the cargo. If we miss our wormhole slot, we won’t get another for days. If I’m not back in two hours, leave without me. Or avenge my death.”
“With the passion of a thousand hungry flamecats.”
“You’re such a good friend,” Perrin said. “Even if your planet does have strange sayings.”
“Smooth sailing, Cap.”
Perrin took a final deep breath. There was a distinct possibility this was a trap. Granted, the message had used proper Onyx Network codes, and no one else should’ve known that symbol. But despite her many activities in the colonies, she’d never had a request to smuggle something off the central planet of the Ruby Confederation.
The inappropriate rush of excitement returned at the thought of a new challenge, no matter how ill-advised.
Surely having the sense to acknowledge this could be a setup made her slightly less foolish. The possibility offered another good reason to leave her crew on the ship handling the legal business—she didn’t want to risk them getting in trouble, too.
She grabbed the windowsill and pulled herself up, wiggling until she hooked a leg over the sill. Clearly these windows weren’t designed for short people to break into. She hauled herself through the space and jumped inside. Her feet landed with a concerning squish.
Piles of garbage and crusty blankets leaked odors of rotten food and bodily functions not intended for public places. The remains of what once might’ve been a bean burrito clung to her boots. She swallowed a gag and scuffed her feet on the floor before studying the room.
The cavernous interior was mostly dark, with spears of light jabbing through gaps in the shutters, illuminating small portions of a lobby that once bustled with people. The ceiling curved high above, a dizzying pattern of interlocking hexagons. Though abandoned, the building was still an im pressive display of Confed architecture.
Counters lined one end. Benches formed circles in the center, the seats coated in cushions of dust. Vid boards covered the walls, long since burned out, their screens black and cracked. The graffiti in here was faded, and sheets of cobwebs clung to the corners. The cameras had been smashed, so she was safe there.
Common sense was seeping in, though, along with the stench of moldy fruit. She stepped more carefully, listened more intently. Kept eying the open window, which was the only way out.
She explored further, using the light on her comp-pad when she reached areas the window gaps didn’t penetrate. Several sets of stairs led down to the tracks.
Fresh paint caught her eye again. Another symbol at the top of a staircase. She’d come this far. She didn’t intend to walk away now, not without finding out what awaited.
She hopped the turnstiles and went down the stairs.
When she’d imagined being an explorer, this wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind.
Below, the darkness deepened. A wide-open space with pillars and long tunnels. Empty tracks stretched into blackness. Wires dangled from the ceiling like snakes. The air was cold compared to the surface, where weather control kept Ruby’s capital a constant pleasant temperature, and denser, which intensified the stench.
She inched her way past broken benches and forgotten food wrappers until she spotted another symbol. Of course it directed her into a tunnel. If she ever found out who sent that message, she’d have pointed opinions to share on their choice of venue.
She jumped down onto the tracks. A clang echoed through the tunnel when her boots hit metal. Something scurried away, paws skittering.
This was how people got eaten by monsters.
Her light made little headway, forcing her to trail a hand along the wall to stay on course. Damp slime coated the surface. A thick substance oozed onto her shoulder. She chose to believe it was oil or grease.
Whatever this shipment was, it’d better be good. This was her favorite jacket.
A smaller symbol in chalk decorated an access panel. She stopped and dug the panel open.
Inside were four cardboard boxes, each half as high as her forearm. She lifted the top one and opened the cover.
What the…
It contained rows and rows of tiny clear sacks, a few hundred in all.
Drugs, but what kind? She might’ve been a smuggler, but she had limits. If these were illicit substances, they were going right back in the wall.
She tugged one packet open, its texture closer to cloth than plastic, and found pale blue powder. Standard black fever vaccine. She dropped the box and lifted the next. This one contained pale pink, treatment for dry lung disease. The others had vaccines for moon flu and avianpox.
In the fourth box, she also found a comm chip, the kind that only played on a ship’s communication drive. Seemed standard enough, though it could upload a virus or a tracking algorithm to her ship when she played it. But who would go to the trouble to send her down here, supply her with millions of chromos of meds, and then use a comm chip for that? More likely, if this were a trap, cops would be waiting when she went upstairs.
She tucked the chip in the breast pocket of her jacket, folded up the boxes, restacked them, and stared.
These drugs weren’t cheap, which was why they were nearly impossible to come by in the colonies. They had to be stolen, or she wouldn’t have been asked to smuggle them. Who had supplied them?
Her skin prickled. This seemed too good to be true. Why provide this without asking for payment? Unless instructions were on the comm chip.
She could leave them here. But given her family history, she never passed up the chance to bring medical help to anyone.
Plus, there was the thrill of the challenge. Her mind already raced with possibilities for how she’d sneak these through security at the terminal and onto her ship. The image of her flying away with them brought a smile to her lips, her worries fading sooner than they should have.
She ran her scanner over the boxes. Nothing registered inside except organic matter, the same reading she’d see for plants, herbs, or soil.
If these could help people, the decision was already made.
She just had to make sure to avoid arrest before delivering them.
Perrin hefted the boxes and started down the tracks. When she reached the stairs, she set them on the ground and retrieved her comp-pad. Still no life forms above. After making sure the street remained empty, she dropped them through the window and climbed out after.
Now, how to conceal the meds? She’d never smuggled on Ruby Prime before, because she didn’t have a death wish. The space terminal had too much surveillance and security for her to sneak the boxes on board like she would on outer worlds. She needed legal goods to hide the illegal ones. The powdered drugs read as organic material, which meant she needed more.
As she neared the market streets outside the terminal, the buildings grew less dilapidated as shops and businesses tried to capture tourists and crews utilizing the capital’s main off-world transportation hub.
The terminal loomed above like an enormous tree. The trunk gleamed shiny bronze, with curving tubes extending up and out like branches. At the end of each one, ships of all sizes and shapes sat on platforms at varying heights and distances from the trunk, forming a cloud high in the air. Designed to impress and intimidate, she supposed. Its effect was lost on her.
Shops lined the street, under an awning that mimicked tree roots twined together, twisting and curving. Gaps allowed in dapples of light. Perrin imagined she was walking through a tunnel in a forest floor.
She clutched the boxes to her chest, nodding at fellow shoppers and the red-and-gray clad guards when they made eye contact. Her spine straightened at the thought of contraband marching by right under their self-assured noses. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she focused on keeping her breathing even.
After a few sideways glances and curious sniffs, she was convinced that the dark smear on her sleeve was decidedly not coolant, and that a good portion of someone’s three-year-old meal still clung to her boots. The energy zapping through her veins made it hard to care.
She wandered through the streets until she spotted the place she needed. She and her illegal cargo entered a small, dark shop.
The first thing that hit her was the stench. It crawled up her nose and down her throat, a blending of every sweet, spicy, tangy, salty, and earthy smell known to the galaxy. She flared her nostrils to stop a sneeze. Maybe the subway station hadn’t been so bad.
Silver bowls covered wooden tables, heaped with powders and salts and flakes in gold, crimson, deep brownish red, pale green, black, bright orange, even pink and indigo. She allowed her eyes to feast on the colors, her mind automatically matching each to a shade she knew from a wormhole. The gold from Maura 7. The indigo from Sidicum. The pale green from Lapida.
The sudden longing to fly, fly, fly, and never stop seized her.
Until she remembered why she’d come.
An old woman watched her from behind a chest-high steel counter, where an old-fashioned bronze balance scale sat. Wrinkles creased the woman’s brown skin, and she squinted even though the room was dark. She barely moved at Perrin’s entrance, but the weight of her gaze was heavier than the gravity on Nyloss.
The knowledge that Perrin was on the central planet of the Ruby Confederation, where the charge for smuggling—and using her Confed-issued merchant license to do it—was treason, pressed in on her from every corner, more oppressive than the smells.
She picked up a spoon and poured powder from it back into the bowl. “You have an excellent selection. I’ve never seen turmeric such a brilliant shade of yellow.”
The woman blinked. Eyed the boxes in Perrin’s arms.
