Fifty Thousand Credits

“He came in earlier covered in blood,” the woman from the shower line said. “I knew something was off. He said there’d been an industrial accident, then started talking to himself.”

“Yeah,” someone else added. “And he showed up right after that huge explosion. I bet he caused it.”

The murmuring spread through the room.

People glanced at me, then at one another, each new whisper adding another piece to a story I barely recognized.

A man near the front stepped toward me, but someone caught his arm.

“Careful. He looks like the kind who’d kill you without thinking twice.”

The man stopped.

For a moment, nobody moved.

They were afraid of me.

That should have made me feel safer, but there were too many of them. Dozens of people crowded around me, watching and waiting for someone else to make the first move.

I had never seen a mob before.

I had never understood how frightening one could be.

A single person had a face. They hesitated, thought, and worried about what would happen if they were wrong. A crowd was different. Fear and greed passed through it like electricity, and all it would take was one person deciding fifty thousand credits was worth the risk.

Someone behind me shouted.

“Grab him!”

The crowd surged.

I lowered my shoulder and ran straight through them.

The first man reached for me, and I drove into his chest hard enough to throw him backward into one of the ladders leading to the sleeping cubbies. Someone grabbed the back of my shirt, but the fabric tore as I twisted free.

Hands struck my shoulders and arms. Someone caught me across the cheek, though I barely felt it.

I kept moving.

Years of hauling scrap and forcing jammed material through machinery had made me stronger than most of them expected. They stumbled aside or went down when I hit them, and every person I knocked away made the others hesitate.

To them, I probably looked exactly like the violent outlaw from the broadcast.

I didn’t care.

I was terrified.

A woman screamed as I shoved past her. Someone wrapped his arms around my waist, but I dragged him several steps before turning and driving him into another ladder.

The exit was only twenty feet away.

Then ten.

A hand closed around my wrist.

I yanked free, reached the door, and threw myself through it before anyone could stop me.

The corridor outside was empty.

I ran.

Behind me, voices poured from the housing block.

“He’s getting away!”

“Call Aethis!”

“Don’t let him reach the street!”

I reached the passage where the old man had dragged me and stopped. After the explosion, the place was probably crawling with guards in power armor.

Instead, I took the maintenance stairwell down.

The tunnels.

I had spent years disappearing into the old service passages whenever I needed to be alone. Most people avoided them because the lights rarely worked, the air smelled like rust and stagnant water, and entire sections had been abandoned when Aethis rebuilt the city above them.

To me, they were the closest thing I had to somewhere safe.

I descended two flights at a time, hit the bottom landing, and forced open the warped metal door.

Darkness swallowed me.

I put my hands on my head and slid down the door. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stay here. Someone had probably seen me come down.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked around, slowly pushed myself back to my feet, and took a deep breath.

Okay. Now what?

Where do I go from here?

I wasn’t sure why the Aethis guards hadn’t just grabbed me at my cubby. They had to know where I lived.

Unless that was the point.

Let the people they thought were mine deal with me first.

Focus, Lucas. I need a plan.

I heard the crowd gathering above near the tunnel entrance. After making sure the door was latched behind me, I moved deeper into the tunnels.

As I walked, I decided the best place to be was away from people, somewhere outside the city in the wastelands. I could catch a ride somehow.

I know at least one place where they haul industrial waste out to the junkyard.

A laugh escaped me at the absurdity of my situation. What did I ever do to deserve any of this?

The tunnel ahead was darker. Most of the lights had failed long ago, leaving only scattered patches of dim illumination behind me.

As I stepped into the darkness, I reached out and gripped a pipe running along the wall in case I stumbled.

Slowly, I made my way toward where I thought the industrial waste haulers docked and found a stairway leading up.

Why did I ever accept this stupid implant?

The thought hit me as I tightened my grip on the railing.

Swallowing my anger, I reached the landing and stared at the door. I took a deep breath and tried to let go of the anger at myself and my stupid decision.

Nothing I can do about it now. I just need to survive long enough to figure out my next move, and then the one after that.

Slowly, I pushed the door open. It screeched loudly, and I paused, peeking through the crack I’d made.

These access doors usually opened into passageways off the main roads, and paranoid people almost never walked down them.

Almost never.

I hadn’t seen or heard anyone, so I slowly swung the door open. It screeched even louder as I did. Once the gap was wide enough, I ran across to the other side and disappeared deeper into the passageway.

About ten minutes later, I reached the waste dock.

From the passageway, I watched a large, sweaty man load what looked like an old generator onto the truck. The driver signed something on a tablet, then began talking to him as an automated tarp slowly rolled over the load.

Now’s my chance.

I made my way around to the opposite side, slid beneath the tarp, and wedged myself between the scrap. Something sharp stabbed into my back, and I nearly yelped.

I shifted until the pressure eased, then reached behind me and felt the spot. When I pulled my hand back, there was blood on my fingers.

Guess it got me pretty good.

I listened as they talked. Their voices were muffled beneath the tarp, but once it stopped moving, I could make out what the driver was saying.

“Yeah, this is my last load for the day. If you ain’t here when I get back, I guess I’ll meet you at Dirty Larry’s.”

A deeper voice answered. “Yeah. Just don’t go drinking yourself under the table again. Your wife was pretty pissed when I carried you home. Told me next time to throw you in an incinerator somewhere.”

The driver laughed, and the truck door slammed shut.

“Yeah, she was pretty mad at me too. I won’t be doing that again anytime soon, trust me.”

The electric motor whirred to life, and the truck began to move.

The ride seemed to take forever, especially with the angle I was having to sit at. By my best guess, it was late afternoon when my implant opened another window in my vision.

Integration: 34.3%

Syncing with global network…

Working…

Error: Global network uses nonstandard encryption. Please hold…

Negotiating link…

Error: Network violates privacy protocols.

Bypassing…

Ready.

A bar appeared in my vision, showing the local time and date, along with the progress of my skill queue. For some reason, the remaining time had dropped to two hours.

Wait, hold on. What are you doing in there? Why is my skill queue so much further along?

The implant seemed to understand my questions, which I guessed was how these things were supposed to work. Another window appeared.

Skill-point accumulation efficiency: 61.25%

Network connection established to retrieve requested information: [Time of Day]

I chuckled. Well, I wasn’t expecting this much autonomy from you.

No new window appeared.

I sighed. Guess you won’t answer just any question.

I lifted the tarp enough to peek outside and realized we were far beyond the city. Wasteland was the right word.

I had never left Clast Brannen City, not even to travel between cities. I had grown up there. My parents were both tier-two executives in the marketing department.

The thought made me frown. I asked the implant if it knew where we were.

All I could see was mile after mile of road crossing cracked, greenish-brown rock. The sun seemed dim out here, which I guessed was why the city kept its lights on even during the day. It gave the world an almost dead appearance. The only vegetation I saw was a scattering of long-dead shrubs.

A window appeared, displaying a rendered map of the surrounding area with my position highlighted on the road.

Destination?

The nearest junkyard, I thought.

A route appeared on the map.

Destination entered: Gerald and Sons Premium Scrapyard

Distance: 121 kilometers

Estimated time of arrival at current speed: 1 hour, 43 minutes

I groaned. Another hour and forty-three minutes. I was already getting cold.

I occupied myself looking through the list of skills I could get after Shuttle Piloting, but I didn’t see anything useful. Or better yet, I didn’t know what would be useful to me later.

Piloting was a skill my sister had been excited about too, which, if I was honest with myself, was probably why I picked it.

A red indicator popped up on the bar, warning me that the temperature had dropped to eleven degrees Celsius. I was shivering by then.

The truck bounced into the yard, and the junk around me shifted dangerously.

Pushing against the junk, I checked my map. We had arrived at the premium scrapyard.

Then it hit me. How was I supposed to get out of here without being noticed?

The truck kept bouncing along before stopping for a moment. Then it began moving again. A couple of minutes later, it started backing up.

I heard the door open, followed by the tarp whirring as it rolled back. Knowing the driver operated it from the opposite side of the truck, I rolled out.

I hit the hard ground and quickly looked around. We were on some sort of built-up hill, so I ducked behind a piece of large equipment.

I stood there shivering until I heard the door slam and the truck’s bed begin to lift. A moment later, metal scraped against metal as the junk slid out of the back.

The truck pulled away. I watched it turn the corner, the bed lowering as it disappeared.

I sighed with relief and started looking for somewhere warm.

After about ten minutes, I found a graveyard of old shuttlecraft. Some were fairly small, maybe ten meters long. Others were commercial transports nearly fifty meters from end to end.

I could probably hide inside one of them. Maybe even find a blanket or something to get me through the night.

After searching for a while, one shuttle caught my attention. Its ramp sat slightly open, and it was in surprisingly decent shape for junk. Sections of the outer hull looked newer than the rest, probably scavenged from other shuttles.

The dim sun was setting, but faint lights still glowed through the gap beneath the ramp.

Grabbing the edge, I hauled myself up and slid face-first into the cargo bay.

Brushing myself off, I looked around. The emergency lights were on, and it was noticeably warmer inside. Not exceptionally warm, but warm enough that a light blanket could fight back the chill.

Several panels stood open around the shuttle, and cables with freshly bared copper gleamed in the dim light. That was odd.

Is someone repairing this shuttle or stripping it for parts?

Moving toward the front, I checked each crawl space I passed, expecting to find someone repairing or stripping the shuttle. Nothing moved, and no voices or footsteps broke the silence. Maybe they only worked on it during the day.

Passing through the bulkhead between the cargo bay and passenger compartment, I could see the pilot’s and copilot’s seats beyond eight passenger seats. It was a decent-sized shuttle, honestly.

Something flashed in my peripheral vision. Instinctively, I stepped back as some kind of heavy tool whooshed inches from my face.

A red-haired woman stood there gripping a large wrench in both hands. Freckles covered her face, grease streaked her cheeks, and oversized overalls hung loosely from her frame.

“Who are you? Why are you in my shuttle?”

Her expression suddenly changed. The wrench slipped from her hands and slammed loudly against the metal decking.

“Wait. You’re that wanted guy Aethis is looking for.” She raised both hands. “Look, I’ll leave. You can have the shuttle. I won’t tell anyone you’re here, I promise. Just let me go, okay?”

I stared at her, too stunned to answer.

“Lucas, was it? Look, I’m Amiri. I promise I won’t tell a soul if you let me leave.”

I frowned and sighed. Her eyes followed me as I stepped aside, but there wasn’t enough room for her to get past.

“Amiri. Hi. As you already know, I’m Lucas. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not taking your shuttle. But if you want to leave, go ahead.”

She moved toward the door, and I stepped farther into the room to give her space. Once our positions were reversed and I was the one trapped inside, she stopped at the exit.

“You aren’t going to hurt me. Is that your word?”

I nodded and glanced around. “You have my word. So, you’re fixing this ship?”

The question seemed to startle her, but she relaxed a little. “Yeah. That was the intention. It’s harder without my implant showing me the diagnostics, but I can manage.”

Turning toward her, I frowned. “So the bastards bricked you too, and now you’re planning to what, leave the planet?”

She planted her hands on her hips, suddenly annoyed by the question.

“Yeah. If I can get to faction space, I can quit these bastards and get my implant fixed.”

My head tilted before I could stop it. I hadn’t known that was possible.

“Wait. What? You can quit Aethis?”

At that moment, a pop-up appeared in my vision.

Telemetry signal detected from nearby host. Analyzing…

My attention shifted to the message, and she noticed.

“Wait. You have a working implant? How did you manage that and get wanted at the same time?”

“Hold on.” Raising one finger, I read the message again. “It says your implant is transmitting a telemetry signal.”

“What does that mean? Wait, did my implant just recognize you and alert Aethis?”

Her eyes widened. “Fuck. Now they know where both of us are. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

My window updated.

Telemetry violates implant privacy protocols. Scanning…

Malware detected.

Attempt handshake? Y/N

“Wait, what? Hold on. It says it detected malware.”

I thought yes.

Her eyes widened, and she looked at me suspiciously. “So that’s it. Your implant is the black-market tech they’re after. What is it trying to do to mine?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It’s not like it came with a manual. Also, it’s not a black-market implant. At least, that’s what the old man said when he gave it to me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “An old man gave it to you? What, he urgently needed to get rid of it before they caught him, and you got dragged into the whole thing? Something like that, yeah?”

A crooked smile pulled at my mouth. She had deduced the situation that quickly, and I could hardly believe it.

“Yeah. Then he blew himself up to give me time to get away.”

“Yeah, and…” She paused. “Wait. He blew himself up?”

I nodded, and the window suddenly changed.

Handshake accepted…

Purge accepted…

Purging…

Purging…

I stood there with my mouth hanging open while her eyes tracked something on her side of the purge. Then she yelped.

“Holy shit, Lucas. My implant is working again. Hold on.”

For several seconds, she stood perfectly still, focused on whatever her implant was showing her. Then she smiled.

“Okay, look, we don’t have much time. I was estimating a month to get this thing airborne. With my implant, I can probably do it in a week, but I don’t think we have that long.”

She bolted past me, grabbed a tool belt I hadn’t noticed, and slid into one of the crawl spaces.

“Um… can you fly?” she called, her voice muffled.

The question caught me off guard. Checking the skill queue, I realized the training had finished a while ago.

“Uh, I think I can. I mean, I have the skill, but I don’t know.”

Something clanked inside the crawl space.

“Shit… what is that supposed to mean? Either you have the skill and can pilot this thing, or you don’t and can’t.”

I shook my head, then realized she couldn’t see me. “I have the skill. I’ve just never flown before. I don’t know how any of this works.”

Her laughter echoed through the crawl space.

“You’ll be fine, then. You’ll know what to do. Don’t worry.”

“Um, I don’t…” I started, but a booming, modulated voice interrupted me.

“Lucas Cadalain, we know you are inside the shuttle. We know you killed Amiri. Come out peacefully, or we will be forced to terminate you.”

“Go!” Amiri shouted. “Get in the pilot’s seat. When I tell you to power it on, power it on and punch it.”

Without hesitating, I bolted to the pilot’s seat and dropped into it. The viewscreen was already working, showing powered-armor enforcers moving between the junked shuttles.

My hands seemed to know what to do. They moved across the controls, flipping through pages and selecting options before I consciously understood any of it.

External sensors showed around thirty enforcers closing in from every direction.

“Shit. Are you almost done? They’re nearly on top of us.”