Break the Chain: Mission 4: Black Ocean: Mercy for Hire, #4

By J.S. Morin

The jig is up. The news is out. They finally found her.

 

As Esper has tried to save the galaxy's wayward children, she's done it with the looming threat of the Convocation dogging her steps. She knows why they're after her, even if she can't remember the events.

 

She's shaken them across a dozen star systems.

 

She's bested their hunters the few times they've caught up.

 

Now, Esper is about to face her greatest fear: the truth about what she's done.

 

This latest pair of Convocation bounty hunters is a cut above the previous failures who tried to catch her. They're more resourceful, closer on her trail, and have one advantage that NONE of the others could boast.

 

The help of an old associate who sold Esper out.

 

Break the Chain is the fourth mission of Black Ocean: Mercy for Hire. Set in the Black Ocean Universe, it continues the saga of the galaxy's sweetest bounty hunter and her loyal sidekick (who is NOT a dog!)and introduces a colorful cast for new and returning readers alike. Fans of vigilante justice and heroes who exemplify the word will love this series.

 

Grab yours and contribute to the Esper Defense Fund!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Magical Scrivener Press
• Release date: Nov 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643550114

J.S. Morin

I am a creator of worlds and a destroyer of words. As a fantasy writer, my works range from traditional epics to futuristic fantasy with starships. I have worked as an unpaid Little League pitcher, a cashier, a student library aide, a factory grunt, a cubicle drone, and an engineer--there is some overlap in the last two. Through it all, though, I was always a storyteller. Eventually I started writing books based on the stray stories in my head, and people kept telling me to write more of them. Now, that's all I do for a living. I enjoy strategy, worldbuilding, and the fantasy author's privilege to make up words. I am a gamer, a joker, and a thinker of sideways thoughts. But I don't dance, can't sing, and my best artistic efforts fall short of your average notebook doodle. When you read my books, you are seeing me at my best. My ultimate goal is to be both clever and right at the same time. I have it on good authority that I have yet to achieve it. Visit me at jsmorin.com

Book preview

Break the Chain

BREAK THE CHAIN

MISSION 4

BLACK OCEAN: MERCY FOR HIRE

J.S. MORIN

MAGICAL SCRIVENER PRESS

Copyright © 2018 J.S. Morin

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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J.S. Morin — First Edition

BREAK THE CHAIN

MISSION 4

A brilliant blue sun blazed above the cockpit canopy, dominating the sky. The supergiant star Rigel A blotted out its smaller neighbors in the five-star cluster at the heart of the system. And after where Esper had spent the last few weeks, a five-star rating was just what Rigel IV deserved.

Weird that this place is feeling like home now, Esper commented over her shoulder. I mean, how long have we been here? Three months? Four, if you count business travel.

If I guess right, will you get un-mad at me? Kubu asked.

Mad at you? Esper asked. "I’m not mad at you. I’m exasperated with you. You knew I didn’t want you contacting Tanny, and you wizarded-up my words to do it anyway. Maybe I ought to be proud of you, but I’m not trying to train you as a wizard; I’m trying to teach you how to get along in the galaxy. But by the same token, I can’t exactly punish you forever, so we’re going to have to put this past us."

But you haven’t punished me, Kubu pointed out.

Esper sighed. It was hard work navigating the Squall according to orbital control’s instructions. If moralizing hadn’t been second nature, she’d have been forced to adjourn this discussion until they were on the ground. You punished yourself. You got to see and hear stuff about Tanny that I’d hoped to shield you from until you were older.

Even without being able to see the lovable lug, curled up in the cargo hold behind the seat, Esper could hear his ears pressed back against his head. But I knew Mommy was bad. I wanted to see her anyway. She was always nice to Kubu.

To ME, Esper corrected. Don’t go pulling that baby-talk routine on me. I’m not falling for it. And yes, Tanny is bad. Yes, so are we, from a certain point of view.

And Carl, Kubu added.

Yes, Carl is relentlessly—

And Roddy, Kubu continued.

You can’t just list everyone we know, Esper argued. Yes, we have a… colorful assortment of friends. But Tanny… she crossed a line. A few lines.

All our friends are criminals. But not all of them are bad. Mort’s not bad.

Esper didn’t have words to crack open the vault of what was wrong with that statement.

He was always nice and listened to me. He made me through-the-ear magic so that I could—

It’s a translator earring. We all had them. Use grown-up words, Kubu.

The cities of Rigel IV rushed below them in a blur with no distinction from one to the next. A river here. A mountain there. All else was an uninterrupted carpet of buildings to the horizon in all directions.

Fine. But Mort made it. Everyone said he was bad, but he was always nice to me. Mommy was like that. I knew she was being bad when she wasn’t with me, but I could only make her stay so much. She had ‘important business to attend.’ Kubu tried to mimic Tanny’s voice but didn’t even come close. For one thing, Kubu’s voice was already lower than hers, so deepening it didn’t help. For another, he made Tanny sound like she was a dopey night watchwoman, not a syndicate underboss.

Then again, who was Esper to judge?

Fine. He still loved Tanny. She’d been like a mother to him when they’d first discovered him in that alien zoo.

Esper had been tugged and jostled by far less pure emotion. Admiral Emily Chisholm was a pirate with a fleet no less brutal than the Rucker Syndicate. Cedric The Brown was a murderer. Melody—Karen, she reminded herself—was an opportunist and a siren and was far and away the most innocent of the bunch.

And then there was Mort.

Esper had loved them all in different ways and different degrees, but Mort was the one who still clawed at her from beyond the grave. He was seductive in his power and confidence, utterly assured of himself… and an unrepentant mass murderer. Yet he’d had the self-control to keep Esper at arm’s length even when she’d have given in, despite spending a lifetime in his head together learning magic.

You can love bad people, Esper admitted. But that doesn’t mean it’s OK to—

LANDING PERMIT REQUIRED.

Huh? Esper said, squinting at the alert on the dashboard. Since when? I mean, we have one. We rented the spot for six months.

They were above Rigel Prime, not far from La Maison d’Être. The attached parking structure was comparatively tiny, but Esper’s Squall had a place there.

Maybe it was longer than you thought, Kubu suggested. Or maybe you rented it wrong.

Computer, rent a one-day pass, same landing garage.

DENIED.

Esper swooped around, possibly violating a traffic-flow regulation in the process. "What gives? I can see rooftop spaces if there’s nothing else. It’s not full. Try again."

DENIED.

Fine. Computer, find us the nearest available space.

SEARCH RETURNS ZERO RESULTS.

Kubuuu…

The canine cleared his throat. Uh, Mr. Computer, please find us a place to park.

SEARCH RETURNS ZERO RESULTS.

You know what? Esper snapped. Forget this.

The Sumatra Hotel had a rooftop valet service. Piloting against traffic, Esper swung the Squall around and landed in the queue for assist parking. Hopping out of the Squall, she tossed the red-jacketed valet a ten-terra coin. Put it somewhere easy to collect. I’ll be back for it soon. Kubu, let’s move it. You don’t want to get flown to the valet lot.

Appearing nervous in the face of her boiling anger, the valet fumbled the coin with mumbled promises to take good care of the starship.

There was an emergency stairwell, but as Esper reached for the handle, Kubu emitted a low whine. What? she snapped. He pointed to the sign above the stairwell: Floor 217. Oh. Good call. We’ll take the lift.

One of the downsides of a lift was that you couldn’t storm down one in a huff. The confined space required that any huffs be stationary, which sapped some of the energy from the grumping process. Also, the lift car played a light, airy tune with a soothing melody.

By the time the lift arrived at ground level, Esper was practically calm.

Then the memory of being denied parking at La Maison d’Être—and seemingly the rest of Rigel Prime—sank back in as she remembered that there was a nearly two-kilometer walk to the bordello.

Kubu didn’t seem troubled by the trek through packed city streets or the fact that the valet service was going to cost nearly a week’s worth of her paltry salary. He kept up amiably, though he had the good sense to keep quiet and allow Esper to stew.

Finally, they arrived at La Maison d’Être. The place looked the same as ever. Not that it held much in the way of fond memories, but the little room she shared with Kubu promised a rest and a return to relative normalcy.

Winding up for a biblical-grade I-told-you-so, Esper entered and approached Madame Dalisay at the front desk.

But before Esper could lay into the proprietor for getting Melody kidnapped, she was met with such a look of panic and horror that she stopped short.

YOU! Dalisay barked. "Get out of this establishment this instant!"

Esper approached cautiously. "Not until I get some answers and our things. She knew already that she’d find none of the rest and normalcy she’d longed for. But she’d be basted and boiled before leaving without an explanation. Did Melody get back and pick up Harmony?"

Whoever the hell came back wasn’t Melody, Dalisay replied. If I didn’t have her records since birth, I’d have thought it was her twin sister. But yes, she left with the girl. Good riddance! Now, you follow suit.

It’s your place, Esper said. We’ll go up and collect our—

Dalisay leaned over the desk and whispered urgently, angrily. "You’ve got nothing. They came. They took everything. And I told them everything. I won’t risk my business for your sorry, busybody ass. I don’t want to see you here ever again, and as soon as you’re gone, I’m calling to tell them I saw you."

Ice water poured over Esper’s soul.

The Convocation was here? she asked hollowly.

Kubu nuzzled her hip, prodding her toward the door.

How many organizations are you on the run from? Dalisay demanded. She waved a hand violently toward the door. "Get out!"

Mind set ablaze with the prospect that the Convocation had tracked them to La Maison d’Être, Esper backed away until she bumped into the door.

Then she and Kubu hit the streets at a run.

Esper’s thoughts fluttered as she raced the streets, Kubu at her side.

How had the Convocation found her? Yomin had assured her that the Squall’s ship ID was clean. Nobody ever believed she was capable of the speeds she traveled. Even if one of Tanny’s lackeys was connected—and the Ruckers seemed to like keeping a wizard or two on hand—the Convocation’s communication protocols were beyond archaic. They’d come home at a leisurely pace that still ought to have been a week or more ahead of the best Earth’s Grumpiest Wizards could manage.

Kubu bumped into Esper as they ran side by side. He looked up when he caught her attention. We’re getting lots of looks. Maybe not running is smarter.

Not running. Right. Action when action is required. Caution was the watchword now. Somewhere on Rigel IV, there were wizards with her name on their lips.

Esper slowed until they weren’t plowing through pedestrian traffic like speedboats on a placid lake filled with swimmers.

Rigel Prime loomed around them on all sides. The towering skyscrapers climbed kilometers into the atmosphere. Somewhere amid the forest of buildings, their Squall was parked at the Sumatra Hotel.

Kubu, we need a plan, Esper said, not worrying about eavesdroppers.

Tail wagging up to speed with newfound excitement, Kubu replied, You mean it? I can help plan?

You made it to Proxima III on your own. You can help think up a way off Rigel IV.

There wasn’t even a pause. I know! We can fly off in the Squall!

Well, that’s Plan A, Esper replied gruffly. She ruffled the fur at the back of Kubu’s neck. Somehow, the game had changed. This was the first time the Convocation had ever gotten ahead of them. Until now, they’d been chasing and running, chasing and running. But this felt different.

Could it have been as simple as running into a Convocation search team that had been on their trail all along, one that hadn’t even known Esper had left for New Venice in the first place? One that had doggedly pursued her to a place she’d holed up, perhaps, for too long?

Maybe.

She remembered Percival, the spineless worm working for Brie Rogers at the Dark Star Club. He’d no doubt have been rounded up in the mass arrests following the fire that consumed the casino. Maybe he’d been shipped back to Earth for the Convocation’s own brand of self-policed justice. Had he given Esper up as a bigger fish to fry like in the old police flatvids?

What’s Plan B, then? Kubu asked as they passed the Nakatomi Securities Exchange tower and caught sight of the Sumatra Hotel peeking from behind it.

Good question. Esper wished she had a good answer to go with it. I don’t know. Maybe magical disguises and stowing on a starliner.

How much being bad would that take? Kubu asked.

An even better question. How much was Esper’s freedom worth? Stiffing a starline corporation for the cost of two fares and some meals? Probably. Frying a few minds along the way to make it all happen? Maybe not.

Let’s focus on Plan A for now.

That was the Mobius way. As much as Esper hated to admit it, in the absence of any clue what was really going on, being prepared to make up a new plan as circumstances demanded was the way to go. Flexibility. Confidence. The luck of seven angels. That was the Mobius way. The Carl Ramsey way.

Blundering through the lobby of the Sumatra Hotel, Esper and Kubu headed for the lifts. A crowd waited with them, and when the doors opened, they were packed with eight hotel guests.

One by one or in pairs, the lift deposited the others at various floors along the way up. By the end of the ride, it was just the two of them. Kubu was humming along with the piped-in music.

The valet stand was just beside the lift doors. A knot of hotel guests