Cadan's Cause

By Mary Winter

Crashing on a planet in a remote system wasn’t in Freelancer Marassa’s plans. She had a precious cargo of contraband weapons to get to the resistance for their operations in a few days. Her goal–bring down the Concordance and all it stands for.

Cadan chose the planet for its unique inhabitants and its distance from the regular shipping lanes. Disenchanted with the Concordance, yet still loyal to them, he wants to be left alone. But a sexy Freelancer with her dangerous cargo could restore his standing within the Concordance...if he turns her in.

Yet, he can’t turn her away, and getting involved with her cause means jeopardizing his own. Will he convince her to join his side, or will he risk becoming an even bigger traitor to his people?

This book is a re-issue of this same title previously released by another publisher several years ago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Winter
• Release date: Sep 11, 2016

Book preview

Galaxy Rogues 1: Cadan’s Cause

By Mary Winter

Copyright 2014 by Mary Winter

Smashwords edition published by Jupiter Gardens Press at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Dedication

To Jen, whose stories of the Beastqueens started me writing Marassa & Cadan's story.

1Chapter One

Keep this course, Walnik. I'm going to relax for a little bit, Marassa said, leaning back in the cushioned pilot’s chair.

She rested her arms above her head, secure with Walnik's ability to pilot the craft. Her partner, Walnik, his furry arms poking out from the sleeves of his shirt, adjusted dials, while he read over several reams of printout, and occasionally glanced at a map.

No problem. We are going past Corella 7-C. It's inhabited by many races, listed as friendly. Walnik turned his eyes back to the numerous dials. Relax all you want. She's in safe hands with me. he replied, fondly patting the ship's wall. Now passing Corella 8-C. Walnik sounded like a holo-tour guide.

A red light on the panel blinked. The blinking summons caught Marassa's attention, and she looked at the control panel. The swerving gauge needle and flickering lights told a sad tale.

Walnik, what's happening? Marassa asked.

She looked at the antique gauges. Engine pressure was down. Fuel was low, and the oxygen supply was dwindling. What was happening? Marassa pounded her fists on the control panel.

I don't know. It looks like engine failure. We've got to land. Walnik said, trying to steady the ship.

Damn it, baby. Damn it. Why do this to me now? You carried my mother through six friggin' galaxies. You carried her to several hundred dozen planets. Why fail now? Marassa yelled. She saw Walnik's worried gaze. The red alert light flickered back at her. A steady buzzing filled her ears.

Try to put her down, anywhere. I've got to find out if there is a safe place to land. We've passed the one known safe inhabited planet in this system. Marassa said. Walnik took over the controls. Damn, she swore again, more in frustration than anger.

Marassa sifted through charts. Was there a planet safe on which to land? She knew the Abkeptians lived on a small planet in this system. Shivers danced through her. There was no way she would land on an Abkeptian planet. Horror tales of their victims were well known within the Concordance.

She hit the panic button, not laughing now at the little red square. A distress call immediately echoed through space. A planet, looking hospitable, flickered on the observation screen.

What planet is that? Marassa asked as she jammed the throttle forward, taking control away from Walnik. With a tilt of the stick, the planet grew larger.

Corella 9-C. Can't find any inhabitants. Walnik said, tossing his maps aside. Deftly, he buckled his safety harness.

Buckling her own safety harness, Marassa didn't bother to pray. The Gods hadn't come to her aid before. They wouldn't come now.

She closed her eyes, feeling the pull of gravity on her body. A scream lodged in her throat. Cracking an eye open, Marassa saw the surface. She risked a look at Walnik. White knuckled, he tried to hold engine functions.

Without thinking, she grabbed the steering stick. The old model RX750C, only twenty years old, bucked. Her flight path straightened with the craft parallel to the ground. Triumph began to seep into her. She had pulled out of yet another crash. Walnik moved to give her a thumbs-up sign.

Trees, oh shit! Marassa yelled as the craft sliced through a small forest. The impact bounced the small craft. Marassa hit her elbow on the chair, but couldn't stop to rub the bruise.

Walnik clung to the levers, wincing as an engine went down. He hit the throttle, and winced at its answering sputter. He cursed in his native language, the words harsh and foul. Marassa bit off a spate of epithets to focus her attention on steering the craft. Light filtered through the trees, and Marassa saw the opening before her. She slammed the steering stick home.

With a crash, the small craft came to a stop. Looking through the cracked observation window, Marassa saw a city in the distance. The buildings looked like some kind of native brick. But that was impossible. The Vandebians had quit building with such primitive tools eons ago. Unless… Marassa stopped her thoughts. She couldn't have been as unlucky to land on Abkeptian lands.

Are you okay, Walnik? Marassa asked.

Sure. Just shook. You?

Quickly, Marassa unfastened her harness. She gingerly stood, aware of the hideous injuries that could occur during a crash. She felt no pain, except in her bruised elbow. Breathing a sigh of relief, Marassa stretched. Not even a ligament protested the movement.

You're bleeding! Walnik said, shocked. He stood, and looked around the small ship. Marassa checked herself. She saw only a few bruises. At first, she didn't see the cut.

A place along her leg bled. Marassa looked at the wound. At least it wasn't major. It didn't hurt, but that was one of the suit's specialties--instant numbing.

She peeled the fabric away from her calf. A jagged cut ran across the skin. She heard Walnik's gasp. For an explorer, he had little tolerance for injuries or blood. Surface wound, Marassa surmised. After all, she didn't have any muscle troubles. She walked to the small first aid kit. A trickle of warm, red blood slid down her leg.

Can I do anything? Walnik asked.

Marassa looked around the cabin. If you could find our survival kits, that'll go a long way to getting us back in the air. The first thing we need to do is check on our cargo. She held up the first aid kit. I need to stitch this up. She saw Walnik turn towards the back of the ship, and begin his search.

Marassa looked at the first aid kit with disdain finding nothing sturdy enough to close the gash in her leg. She needed to sew it up. Blood had to be saved. She didn't know how or when she was going to get off this god-forsaken planet, and Marassa knew she needed all her strength.

Marassa glanced around the room, looking for something suitable for stitches. Her eyes rested on her sewing kit. She liked the archaic needle and thread. Pulling the cart to her, Marassa lifted out a spool of neon green thread. She found a needle amid a group of pins.

Taking the cloth of her suit, using it for numbing, Marassa began to stitch up her leg. She didn't feel anything, even though the act of running a needle through her skin churned her stomach.. Marassa tied a knot, and tested the sutures. They held.

Walnik returned with the two supply kits. Glancing at her newly sewn leg, he nodded. Even he had to admit the sutures were a nice piece of work. Walnik placed her pack by her side. He looked out the small window. Marassa's glance followed his. An arid landscape waited for them.

Marassa felt the heat from the outside. Sweat trickled between her breasts. I need to find suitable clothes, Marassa thought. Lying on her bed, was an olive green jumper. I need to change into something suitable for warm weather. Would you mind turning your back? Marassa asked. They almost had the system down to a science. Each would dress, staring in opposite directions. The small ship didn't boast rooms, just areas.

She changed clothes, not bothering with underwear. The only set she had was fused to the inside of her suit. The silk material felt smooth, sliding over her bare skin. She quickly finished dressing and saw Walnik standing there with the supply kit already situated on his back. She left hers leaning against a console.

Why don't you head out to try and find water and possibly some civilization? I don't know how long we'll be down here. I will check on the cargo. I don't want those DNA scramblers to get damaged. She didn't need to add that they were worth enough to make both of them wealthy for the rest of their lives.

Walnik nodded and without replying, turned and started for the door. He made a good second that way, Marassa thought to herself, he follows orders well. Grabbing the canteen and a light stick from the survival pack, she left the rest of the gear there and also started for the door. The access panel to the cargo hatch sat on the underside of the ship, and Marassa hoped they weren't too far back to be able to open it.

As she stepped out of the ship, Marassa moved into brilliant sunlight. It shone overhead in a sky as cerulean blue as any Vandebian ocean. Behind the ship lay the stand of trees they had sliced through, the opening through which their ship had emerged looking like a great rip in the fabric of the planet. The hole in the foliage exposed many delicate plants to the harsh sunlight, and Marassa feared they would die without the protective canopy of the trees.

I did the best I could, she thought to herself as she descended the stairs. She stepped onto a turf so lush and thick it could have belonged in any noble's yard. Where the tree line ended, grass stretched for as far as the eye could see. In the distance she saw more of the rustic buildings she'd seen upon crashing, and once again hoped she hadn't landed on an Abkeptian planet. The Abkeptians were a race of a people so vile they detested and destroyed everything of beauty. Corella 9-C seemed far too peaceful and serene to belong to those monsters.

At first glance, it looked as if the ship had landed nose-down, keeping the vulnerable tail portion safe from impact. Marassa breathed a sigh of relief, though she pursed her lips at the tiny dents marring the underside of the ship. They became more numerous as she neared the rear. She walked a dozen strides to the rear portion of the ship. There, just above the grass, sat the cargo hatch. Roughly half the size of the main door, it was just big enough for her to squeeze into and have access to the cargo. There was an access shaft in the main body of the ship, but it required a long crawl through dusty corridors that Marassa really didn't want to deal with if she didn't have to.

She lifted the door, stepping back as warmed air hissed out from the broken seal. The air smelled stale from the long space voyage. Bending down, Marassa tried to peer into the cargo hold. She activated the light stick, and the yellow light poured into the hold. A cursory inspection showed everything intact, and she scrunched herself into the small door to slip inside.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark lighting. Blinking, Marassa rose to her feet within the cargo hold. Her light shone on crates, still vacuum-sealed, strapped to the walls. Over one hundred DNA scramblers along with one hundred Hydrogen Pulse Rifles all ready for the Lahtviana revolution. Marassa shivered.

She thought of her cousin, Denero, who lead the revolutionaries, and how he had been ecstatic when she told him of her cargo. He expected her to arrive in three days. In four, the revolutionaries would storm the Concordance's headquarters on the planet. Without her armaments, the offensive wouldn't happen.

She had to get to Lathvina. She circled the cargo hold, looking for damage. A single strap had come loose, and Marassa quickly checked the contents of the box and refastened the strap. No damage. Thank the Gods that they had been lucky, now if fixing her ship could be as easy.

Slowly, Marassa backed out of the cargo hold of the ship. When she had left on this mission many of her spare parts had been left behind to make room for the weapons, and now she regretted the decision. They could have piled everything into the middle of the cargo hold, but without straps to hold it, the parts would have been moving missiles in zero gravity.

Scowling to herself, she refastened the hatch on the ship. She stared at the landscape around them, wondering where Walnik might be and how close he was to finding food and shelter. Shrugging to herself, she walked back to the ship. Now that she felt certain the cargo was safe, she needed to determine how badly the ship was damaged and what repairs she could do.

Humming under her breath Marassa stepped back into the ship and headed for main controls. She seated herself in the captain's chair. Although the ship sat on the ground with no hopes of flying among the stars, she stared through the ancient view portal and smiled. It felt good to sit in this chair again, more so given that she and Walnik could have died in the crash. Her fingers danced over the controls, the screen blazing to life. A myriad of tones sounded in a mini cacophony of technology. A few moments later, the ship hummed steadily.

Initial systems check seems okay, Marassa thought to herself. A cursory scan of the systems showed no major damage. The hull appeared intact with only minor bending in the aft portion of the ship, and life systems checked out okay. Marassa breathed a sigh of relief.

If I can get the power systems online again, she muttered under her breath, perhaps we can get the weapons to Lathviana after all. Her heart raced at the thought.

She keyed in the five-stroke command to start the engines. Power whirred within the ship; lights flickered on the control panel. System warming, Marassa said aloud, talking herself through the start-up process with an apprehension she couldn't quite keep in check. Her gaze seemed glued to the five lights in front of the throttle that told of engine power. The first red light lit.

Marassa flipped the toggle switch above the second light that initiated engine-cooling procedures. The second light blinked into existence.

Next, Marassa whispered as she tripped the third toggle switch. Fuel began moving from the tanks to the igniter unit, and the third yellow light burned.

C'mon baby, Marassa crooned to her ship as she flipped open the fourth switch and gauges showed fuel pressure building. The console showed optimal pressure, then needles plunged down to zero and a warning light lit on the panel showing improper pressure to ignite fuel safely.

"Shiztke Vokelr," Marassa cursed in Lahtvian. She looked self-consciously around to see if Walnik had returned. He still couldn't fathom the foul words coming from a female. She used Vandebian more often than not to save his sensibilities.

"Eilhan vordon sheu?"

Marassa jumped as she heard the familiar Lahtvian words spoken in a rich baritone. She swiveled the chair to face the intruder and stopped. A man stood in the doorway, filling it with his lean body. His head almost brushed the top of the seven-foot tall doorway, and he looked built like the long distance runners of Albincor. The sun had bronzed his skin a deep tan. He wore the dark tan shorts and shirt of a Concordance uniform but without any insignia. Darker patches showed where it might have been removed.

She scurried out of the chair, reaching behind her for a weapon that wasn't there.

"Who the fleuck are you?" Marassa asked. She eyed him once more realizing that whoever he was, he'd been put together in one fantastic package. A flicker of attraction darted through her. She banked it quickly and narrowed her gaze at him.

I'm -- He cut off his words mid sentence and took a step inside her ship. What does it matter to you who I am? He arched an eyebrow at her and smiled.

Damn, he had a sexy smile. I am Freelancer Marassa Kohldain and this is my ship. What are you doing here? She took a brief second to glance behind her and see where the gun had been thrown when they had crashed. It