Torgan Black Market

City of Madaga, Planet of Torgan

There were defining moments in his life when Jackson Burke had known things would never be the same. The day he had been compelled as a young boy living in an orphanage to join the Federation Military—more from a longing for adventure than a sense of galactic duty. The day he was promoted into a secret program to create super soldiers, where he was tested on, trained, and held to the highest of standards. The day he met Captain Jarek and signed on to sail the high skies as a security officer on a pirate ship instead of staying with the Federation, much to the military’s disappointment. The day their pilot, Rick, had insulted a vengeful spirit who put a love curse on the heads of five of the crewmen.

And today, the day he decided it was a good day to die.

Death had come calling for him more times than he could count. By all rights, he should have been blown up, or incinerated, or sucked into deep space, or crash landed on some remote planet. Actually, in all those cases, he probably could have blamed Rick. Half the time, the crew couldn’t decide if they wanted to save their pilot from trouble or leave his stupid ass behind.

Rick was the reason they were currently stranded on Torgan with a broken ship they couldn’t afford to fix.

Bound Virgin wasn’t technically their ship. It belonged to Princess Samantha of the Var—the former captain who had kidnapped a shifter prince named Falke and ultimately married him. She wouldn’t be happy that her ship was out of commission. Jackson had been sailing the high skies with Falke’s brother Jarek at the time of the kidnapping. When Jarek married and settled down, his crew and Samantha’s crew had merged. Captain Lochlann and Jackson now flew with Rick, brothers Lucien and Viktor, and Dev. Lochlann’s wife, Alexis, and Dev’s wife, Violette, also traveled with them.

Jackson guessed none of that history mattered anymore, seeing as he faced the end. Because there was no way in all the blasted space novas he was going back into the Federation Military. There had been a time when he believed in greater causes, but he’d been young and impressionable. At that age, all young men had wanted to believe they were part of a solution. But the Federation wasn’t purely good, and their missions were not against evil. Jackson had seen too much corruption in his travels. Yes, the military had its place. The men who served were some of the best he’d ever known. But Jackson felt he’d done his duty. He wasn’t going back.

Three young soldiers surrounded him, as if to block him from escape. They had the eager expressions of cadets on their first mission. Jackson could evade them and run, but that would mean putting a target on his back. The inability of the Federation to find him is the only thing that kept them from forcing him back into service. He knew how this would go. The Federation didn’t ask. They commanded.

“Soldier J-67114, upon contact, we have orders to detain—”

Jackson lifted his eyes from the ground to look at the young recruit talking to him. That one expression was enough to cut off the man’s words. The black uniform was standard issue, without any distinctions of rank or battle. The man looked at his handheld device and swallowed nervously. Jackson crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance.

The soldier tried again. “We have orders to inform you that you are to be detained for—”

“No,” Jackson interrupted.

“What did you say?” The soldier looked confused.

“No,” Jackson repeated.

“What do you mean, no?” He looked to his buddies for help.

“The Federation really let their standards slip when they enlisted you, didn’t they? No is a word derived from the Old Star language that means you better get out of my way or I’ll launch you into deep space.”

The soldier glanced up as if Jackson would actually throw him through the glass and metal ceiling of the trading center. It wasn’t unusual to run into Federation soldiers on the planet of Torgan, but Jackson tended to avoid them when he could. It was an unspoken understanding that, unless there was a serious threat, the military left the traders who came to the black-market planet alone. Apparently, this was one overly eager recruit who hadn’t been given the memo.

The Torgan marketplace kept up the appearance of being a legitimate trading center and made enough space credits to slip money into the hands of all the right officials. Ships from around the galaxies landed on the grayish-brown orb.

From the sky, the planet didn’t look like much—a desert of dust and sand which was ill-suited to anything but storing space trash, and whose three rings wrapping the planet’s sky were the only hint of natural beauty in the desolate landscape. Despite this, the planet thrived because underneath the adobe-style businesses surrounding the large trading complex, lay a darker purpose. If it was fenced, illegal, tawdry, or sought after, someone on Torgan would have it for sale. If there was a price to be had or a deal to be made, someone would make it and very few questions would be asked. Want someone killed? Ask around the center bar. Need stolen medical supplies? Ask around the docks. Need—

“You’re J-67114,” the soldier insisted.

Jackson lied. “No.”

“But your scan—” The soldier held up his device as if that was infallible evidence.

Jackson grabbed the handheld and threw it against a wall. “Looks broken. You should ask for a new one.”

“That’s Federation property. By order of the…the…” The soldier tried to pull his blaster from his waist.

“Run,” Jackson ordered under his breath. “Or I’ll throw you next. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

Jackson felt a blaster press to the small of his back.

He hadn’t forgotten the other two. He had just hoped they’d be smart enough to back away from the situation.

He glanced over the docking platform. Ships were lined up in tight formation along the concrete area. No one landed or took off without permission, so even if their ship wasn’t broken, he wouldn’t be making a fast escape.

“Why don’t you go see if the Galaxy Playmates show is about to start?” Jackson suggested. He paused as a group of slender Klennup males walked by in shiny gold suits. When they were out of earshot, he continued, “Forget you saw me. Tell them your handheld was broken in a bar fight. They’ll believe it. Bar fights happen about every three minutes—”

“You don’t look too tough with a blaster in your back,” the soldier behind him jeered.

Jackson caught Rick leaning against a wall near the main complex’s entrance. The man was as human as they came, with short brown hair, brown eyes, and the same irritatingly amused expression regardless of the situation. The pilot grinned and made no move to help him. Someone caught Rick’s attention, and he motioned them forward.

Dev appeared in the entryway. People were usually terrified of his red skin and black eyes. If that didn’t scare a person, then his large size would.

Instead of helping, Dev crossed his arms and nodded once, as if ready for a show. Unless Jackson called out to him, he would not join the fight.

“Last chance to walk away—” Jackson tried to offer.

His words were cut off as a sharp blow hit the back of his head.

Instinct and training kicked in. He swung around, ducking as he maneuvered his elbow into the soldier’s stomach. The blaster went flying, but he didn’t hear it land against the hard floor. He punched back, making contact with the man’s jaw to send him stumbling.

Every fighting move the Federation had taught these men, Jackson had mastered long ago. Every dirty fighting trick they might have, Jackson had probably faced in his years sailing the high skies. It was over before it had started. As the man with the blaster fell, Jackson punched the second man and swept his leg into the knees of the third.

A slow clap sounded as the last man fell. Jackson straightened and frowned. He hadn’t wanted this mess. It was random bad luck that these three had been out scanning for trouble.

Rick clapped, still grinning. Dev held the blaster he’d caught when the first soldier fell.

“Blasted space cadets,” Jackson swore.

A large, hairy alien walked past, paused to look at the three fallen men and laughed. The sound rumbled from his chest in low, hard beats. He didn’t stop to help. At least that was one thing in Jackson’s favor. Not too many Torgan visitors would be bothered by what had happened.

Dev picked up the handheld Jackson had smashed against the wall. He thrust it at Jackson. “Get on the ship and don’t come off. I’ll send Viktor to see what he can salvage from the data.”

“We need space credits,” Jackson denied. “I’m supposed to be at the Frendle’s Chips table.”

Gambling was just one of the ways they were able to earn. Lochlann was trying to sell whatever they didn’t need. Rick and Lucien were trying to sell what they’d, um, found abandoned on remote planets. Those items required a special buyer. Viktor sold his services as a mechanic doing repairs on the dock. Though no one told the women, Dev’s role was to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn’t fall into trouble. Alexis and Violette were capable, but their husbands worried. Jackson found it amusing. He felt sorry for any man who tried to cross those two females.

“Go,” Dev ordered.

Jackson could have refused. He was the ship’s security officer. But, out of all the crewmen, he’d spent the most time with Dev. They’d fought side by side for hours in the virtual reality training room. He had learned to trust his friend’s judgment.

Jackson carried the handheld toward the ship. Seeing the hunk of metal resting useless in its space, he frowned. There was nothing worse for a sailor than being landlocked. The fun of visiting planets and fuel docks was knowing they could always take off the second things became too rough.

It would be a shame if they had to scrap their ship as junk metal. Though it wasn’t much to look at, when it was running it was a fine vessel. Previous owners had installed medical units in all the rooms. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure of the history—the ship’s records were as fake as Rick’s pretend girlfriends—but he deduced the ship had belonged to Kintok sex traders at one point. Secret compartments and manacles over beds kind of gave it away.

The ship scanner recognized him and opened as he neared the bottom hatch. He jumped up and pulled himself in through the small opening before the ladder could make its way down. He hit a button, closing himself inside.

The lights running along the walls flickered at half power, but he could find his way around in the dark. An electrical system malfunction had ignited a confined gas pocket, which then destroyed vital parts of the propulsion system. Without it, the ship would chug slowly through the deep black, most likely running out of life support before reaching the next planet. They were lucky to be alive.

Jackson could handle the dark, but it was the silence that bothered him. With the engines off, there was no vibration against his feet. The lights flickered, giving a small buzz as they tried to light his way as sensors detected his presence. He stepped a little louder than normal just to hear the thud of his feet on the metal. There were no voices in the cockpit or in the dining hall. There was no music from old transmission waves they’d captured.

He went to the cockpit and sat in the pilot’s chair. The Federation device wouldn’t turn on, so he set it aside. He doubted it would tell them why the military wanted him back, but maybe Viktor could erase it, break it down and sell off the parts.

Unwilling to sit in the dim light in silence, Jackson pulled up the security feed to watch outside the ship. The lights in the corridor behind him flickered as power was diverted to the screens. He settled back into the pilot’s chair and kicked up his feet. A few aliens walked by, the only entertainment as they briefly sauntered past to leave him staring at an empty concrete walkway.