Last Light: A Space Odyssey

By Serra Jayne Reynolds

To Captain Domino York, a young rebel, a spacecraft is a means to take charge of her own destiny. She soon learns one of life’s harder lessons, however, when federal goons show up to destroy, capture, and kill. She hadn’t counted on her command coming at such steep price. Coming out of this alive requires hurdling those who stand against her. She’s a genius, though, among other things. Even so, choosing the right path isn’t always easy, especially when the men she needs to count on refuse to take her seriously. Ace in the hole notwithstanding, she can’t recall ever being dealt such a rotten hand. Things go from bad to worse when Jake Garrett shows up. High tech weapons and their secrets don’t mix well with spies willing sell them to the highest bidder. Jake Garrett makes a hobby of doing just that; and Domino has the very secrets everyone wants. Focus, a steady hand, and a sharp wit are called for. But are those enough to keep the Universe from blowing up? Domino hasn’t the time to think otherwise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329676732

Book preview

Last Light: A Space Odyssey

Last Light

A Space Odyssey

Serra Jayne Reynolds

Editor: Claire Smith

Cover: Serra Jayne Reynolds

First edition published February 2015

Copyright ©2015 Serra Jayne Reynolds

Digital Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-329-67673-2

The Captain

To Captain Domino York, a young rebel, a spacecraft is a means to take charge of her own destiny. She soon learns one of life’s harder lessons, however, when federal goons show up to destroy, capture, and kill. She hadn’t counted on her command coming at such steep price. Coming out of this alive requires hurdling those who stand against her. She’s a genius, though, among other things. Even so, choosing the right path isn’t always easy, especially when the men she needs to count on refuse to take her seriously. Ace in the hole notwithstanding, she can’t recall ever being dealt such a rotten hand. Things go from bad to worse when Jake Garrett shows up. High tech weapons and their secrets don’t mix well with spies willing sell them to the highest bidder. Jake Garrett makes a hobby of doing just that; and Domino has the very secrets everyone wants. Focus, a steady hand, and a sharp wit are called for. But are those enough to keep the Universe from blowing up? Domino hasn’t the time to think otherwise.

Chapter One

Jake Garrett loosened the heavy Mouser strapped to his thigh, then pushed past the Guthrey Spaceport saloon’s swinging doors and stepped inside Club Plush. Taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the subdued light, he looked around. The background buzz—conversation, orders taken, laughter—was broken only by a crash across the way of plates and glasses hitting the floor. Those nearer the mishap accompanied their mocking cheers with applause.

Centered across the room, a prominent neon stage hosted holographic dancing girls. Lights flickered to stripper music as third class business men hoped to hook up with third class women. Sheilas wearing hardly anything circulating among those sitting nearer the stage. Only a man or two cared to wave off the girls’ advances, preferring to sit alone and nurse their drinks quietly away from the worries of life. Some folks came in here to grab a bite, maybe, or seek nothing more than a moment’s respite from their travels. For those who wanted more, they’d find the friendly smile and the bit of touch they were looking for. Did anyone come into Club Plush solely to dine, to try the cuisine? Perhaps. The more adventurous, maybe; or the more foolish. Laughable? Some said the food was quite good. Regardless, Jake couldn’t imagine bringing a woman here, not his woman anyway, though it was said that there was something here for everyone—

—even for a man looking to score on more dubious pursuits.

All mongrel and plastic and glitz and glitter, nothing in here was the high-dollar stuff it pretended to be. However, layover space stations like this one, all spoke a language everyone knew; low-level crime and high-level stupid. Contracts and deals made here were usually accompanied by threats. Despite the friendly atmosphere, it wasn’t unusual for someone to leave with broken bones if he was lucky, or in a body bag if he wasn’t. Hopefully, everyone here knew that. If they didn’t, they soon would.

In Jake’s wildest imaginings, he couldn’t picture anyone choosing this as a place to wine and dine a young lady—not if he wanted to empress her.

Though there was laughter and music on the wind, Club Plush seemed a dark and primal place. Jake sniffed. His coming back to a place like this—on purpose—was just a bad idea all around. Whiskey in the air seemed eager to pull him back into the very bottle he’d crawled out of not three years back. But he had a job to do, so he drew a deep breath and felt for his ninety-round clip, which he referred to it as his Exit Strategy.

Before he could take two steps, a man near his own age stepped up to deliberately block his way. No guns, he said with a voice paved with gravel. Leave the weapon with the bartender.

Jake narrowed his focus to size up the bouncer. The weapon stays with me.

The man’s face was scarred from fighting. Fists and knives had taken their toll, leaving no room for a smile. A thick scar, the worst of the lot, ran from his hairline, down between his eyes and across a cheek almost to the ear. His steely eyes seemed to reflect a heart that was black, cold, and deadly—a heart devoid of fear. With an expression of fight or die, he cocked his head, and raised a sour grin. To get in here with that, you’ll have to go through me.

Jake sighed. It was way too early in the game to let anyone lay him out, and certainly not someone totally unconnected with his business. Relaxed, but alert, he met the man’s eyes with confident acceptance. Jake was a professional. This other guy was just some local tough looking to make easy money bouncing riff raff from the place—nothing more. However, getting a face like that meant he wasn’t afraid to dole out all the hurt he had too to get the job done.

Jake levelled his brows. I don’t usually repeat myself, but the gun stays with me.

An inch or two taller than Jake, the broad-shouldered bouncer rested a hand on his own pistol, which was holstered high on his hip. Want past me? Be warned, I won’t make it easy.

You heart-set on dying, little man? Jake answered. Pull that weapon and you’ll wind up bleeding from places you’d just as soon not.

Weapon? You mean this little lady? The scarred man patted his pistol. This is my girlfriend, Millie. She’s a little girl with a kick you won’t soon forget.

Jake exhaled audibly, but purpose kept his face as dispassionate as stone. Move aside.

Mouser’s a good weapon. Heavy, though. Hard to bring up fast in a draw; especially slung so low like you have. Milly, now. Well, she’s a light little girl, swift like a gazelle, kicks like a mule. She—

Blindingly, both men pulled their guns; a thunderous crack! and Millie skittered across the floor into some dark recess, DOA. The bouncer reeled and fell to the floor clutching his now half-gone hand.

Millie, meet Brutus, Jake said coolly, then blew the smoke from the barrel’s tip, and tucked his Mouser back in his holster.

The room fell suddenly silent. Unlike everyone else, one small man at the bar nearby didn’t flinch when the shot rang out. Though that caught Jake’s attention, he focused on the man on the floor. Move aside, fool, while moving’s still your option. Jake’s tone, like his face, was unruffled.

Still clutching his bloodied hand, Scar-face rolled aside, waited for Jake to pass, then scrambled to his feet to hurry out of the bar for much-needed medical attention.

Jake stepped up to the bar, and the room’s murmur picked back up to a low roar.

Hovering over his drink as though it was a possession needing protection, the smallish man didn’t look up.

To reference scarface, the bartender motioned toward the exit. How’d you know you could beat Cletus?

A man with scars isn’t the one to fear, the small, quiet man said calmly, refusing to take his eyes from his drink. The man who’d given those scars, now he’s the one to watch out for.

The bartender shook his head, and focused on Jake. Now that you’ve gotten past Cletus, what do you want?

I have business with Lang. Tell him Jake Garrett is here to see him.

The bartender shot a thumb over his shoulder to point at a back room door. Tell’em yourself. Mr. Lang’s expecting you, Garrett.

Three long strides and Jake rapped twice at the door, then pushed it open. Two men waited inside. One of them, a stocky lump of muscle, sat on a couch to one side. The other, probably Lang, sat at a large, well-weathered desk. Silver-haired and lean, he looked like a businessman well suited for this place, this commonplace weigh station parked at the crossroads of No and Where. There was a story there; a story for another time, another place.

Mr. Lang, I’m Jake Garrett.

Lang gestured to a burgundy leather chair across from him. Jake took it and studied the man on the couch. A pistol’s butt peeked out from beneath his jacket.

Jake Garrett, my associate, Mr. Forthright.

The side of beef gave a quick, slight nod but said nothing.

Jake, I believe you have something for me.

When I’ve had my count, Jake said.

The side of beef stiffened at Jake’s calm, low tone. His face became stern, but he didn’t react beyond that.

When I’m sure your payment is enough, Jake added, I’ll tell you where the schematic is.

Lang leaned back in his chair and templed his hands. His smirk said it wasn’t going down that way. Do business now, Mr. Garrett, or walk away. I’ve got little patience for games.

Would this be a peaceful parting? Not likely. If Jake got up to walk away, these jokers’d put a bullet in his back. Whether they succeeded or not, their attempting to do so would make impossible any future transactions, and Jake needed this one to work.

Mr. Lang, I’m crawling way out on a very thin limb as it is. Whether we do business, that alone is up to you.

Lang cocked his head to study the stern, unyielding man.

Your choice, Jake said with a shrug before tapping the desk with a stiff forefinger. Drop your purse or I walk. I’ve got other buyers lined up, and you’re wasting my time.

Forthright slid to the couch’s edge and leaned forward. Now see here, pal, Mr. Lang and I is here to do binness, not play games, unnerstan? Don’t choose to get yessef hurt.

My way, gentlemen, or you get nothing, Jake said.

"Look here . . . Junior. You make some money, or you die where you sit, got it? Now do you really want to see your blood drainin’ freely from a sizable hole in your ches’?"

Never before was it as important to keep his tone level. If Jake showed any sign of fear now, he’d buy the very bullet he wanted to avoid.

He raised a small, sly smile. "You wound me, Mr. Forthright. Other secrets will follow this one. But only if we can develop an arrangement I can, shall we say, live with."

Lang’s eyes narrowed. That goes without saying, Mr. Garrett, but right now this one piece of business is all I’m going to concern myself with. Produce the schematic, or die. It’s just that simple.

That’s rather short-sighted, don’t you think? Jake inched forward to rise from his chair.

Lang scowled.

Very well, Jake said. Good day, gentlemen.

In that instant, steel sprang into view. Though he went for his piece second, Jake still beat Forthright to the draw.

Froze in mid-movement, hand to his small shoulder pistol, Forthright found himself staring down the barrel of Jake’s M-1-aH. Then, reluctantly, he shoved his own pistol back into its holster.

Jake turned his hand-cannon on Lang. I’ve had enough of this nonsense, Lang. Me? I’m lookin’ to do business, but if you continue messing with me, I’ll make dropping both of you, my only concern. So what’s it going to be?

You’re playing a dangerous game, Garrett. We find out you’re lying, sure as I’m speaking to you, you’re dead. If you’re tellin’ the truth, and Providence finds out you’re selling secrets, they’ll have your hide. In light of all that, you got nerve enough for a protracted relationship?

Now just what do you think, Lang? Do I seem nervous to you?

Lang didn’t answer.

But I’ve got to say, anything worth having is worth waiting for, and neither of you seem the patient sort. So, I’m off to do business with other, more amiable, sorts.

Look here, boy—

Jake swung the gun back toward Forthright. No more posturing, gentlemen. Yours is not the only game available to me. Now, good day. Jake stood, holstered his weapon, then turned to the door.

Alright! Lang said in protest. Mr. Garrett, we’ll do this your way.

Turning back to consider Lang’s stern face, Jake showed restrained anger. When I walked in here you thought you were going to run the show? That didn’t happen because I’m the one taking all the risks.

Yes, I see that, Mr. Garrett. You walked in here alone. Only two types of men would dare do so, a fool, or someone who depends on his wits. And nerve. You do have a lot of nerve.

Forthright chuckled before speaking. Mr. Lang, I like this young Mr. Garrett, here. He got himsef a plan an’ he sticks to it. That’s what we needs isn’t it; a man steady enough to do the job? Do as Mr. Garrett here says an’ drop your purse. Give’m time to count what’s his.

Lang eyed Forthright then dipped his head in a nod. Pulling a small satchel from a top drawer, he dropped it on the desk for Jake. As you say, Mr. Forthright. Garrett does seem quite resolute.

Forthright eased back into the couch cushions, and Jake returned to Lang’s desk to open the drawstring pucker. Overturning the bag, he let the gold coins hit the desk. More than enough. Jake returned the extra coin to the purse and casually tossed it in front of Lang.

Which one of you gentlemen will be accompanying me?

Forthright stood. I’m with you. Let’s go.

Jake followed Forthright back into the bar. They stopped just inside to let their eyes adjust. From this vantage point, he could see most of the room. But still, in a place like this, a piece at the ready was just smart thinking.

Staying behind Forthright, Jake gripped his gun. They made their way past the bar, out the door, and into the hallway.

Two men entered the hall from a side room and blocked their way. They were dressed well enough, or wrong enough, depending on your point of view. Neither seemed the sort who would come to a place like this unless they had to. Maybe they just didn’t know any better. Although they were clearly out of place, both men presented themselves as calm and self-assured as they, standing shoulder to shoulder, blocked the hall.

By the cut of their clothes, they looked like hit men or high-dollar bounty hunters. Hapless tourists. Not likely.

Well, Forthright whispered. What do we have here? I hates gov’ment agents.

These strangers seemed to immediately set Forthright on edge. Both seemed well aware of the effect their presence had on him, but they just didn’t seem to care.

Need a ride, gents? said one, looking straight at Forthright.

Not from the likes of you, Chafer. You an’ Fletcher can jus’ go on about yersef. I’m sure you got binness elsewhere.

No, sir, we don’t. Mr. Chafer and I are here for you, Forthright. We have a warrant for your arrest.

Jake leaned closer to whisper in Forthright’s ear. Deal with these jokers. I don’t have time for this.

Well, Mr. Garrett. You got a way t’ speed things up, let’s see it.

Both agents moved to pull their guns, but a flash and two loud cracks from Jake’s pistol sent both officers barreling back down the hallway.

Fast enough for you? Jake said, pushing Forthright forward. As they stepped over the bloodied bodies and headed for the Spaceport’s hangar, Forthright spoke with amusement. You and I are goin’ t’ be good frien’s, Garrett.

Only as friendly as your money holds my interest, Forthright. Don’t think otherwise.

Times and places like this demanded it slide free of its holster whenever trouble arose. And trouble could come at any given moment. Hard decisions happened fast to those who were prepared. Not at all for those who weren’t. Cradled in its holster, this sawed-off M-1-aH hand-cannon had served him well and often. Though he hadn’t had this particular leather holster long, it was already well-worn.

Chapter Two

Kayli, now twenty-two, was trying to cram before her last final exam. Like her boyfriend, and despite all the obstacles thrown in her way, she’d be a Paladin agent.

She strolled through the corridor with her head buried in a Student Text and Curricula Pod (STCP), rounded a corner, and bumped headlong into Jake, who caught her up in his arms and kissed her.

How wonderful to feel his strong arms around her once again, after being apart for such a long time. She covered his face with kisses, interrupting her glee only to say, I missed you.

Me too, he said once she gave him a moment to breathe, but I’m shipping back out in a few hours. Can you believe they’ve only given me a day’s break between assignments? He gently set her down.

Oh, my poor baby. She had to stretch to kiss him once more. Why the hurry?

Jake’s expression sobered. The universe seems in constant trouble these days, Kayli girl.

Oh, Kayli said. ‘Out in the black, desire plots to snare, to fleece, then devour those unaware.’

Ah, Tenstead.

Why, Jake Garrett, I didn’t know you were an admirer of poetry, least of all J. B. Tenstead.

Shh, he said, glancing around. Don’t spread it around. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.

So now you’re leaving again?

I’m afraid so, Jake said, as he slyly probed his vest pocket with a forefinger. The move was subtle but curiously deliberate. Very little got past her, and when it came to her man, she noticed everything—every move he made. Jake had to be certain whatever was in that pocket was still there. I want to . . . he paused um, never mind. There’s always something or someone drawing me away from you.

Though it piqued her interest, Kayli had learned to let Jake be, and not press him to reveal something he wanted to keep secret. She knew he’d tell her about whatever was in that pocket in his own way, and in his own good time, so she said, Yes, I hate that you’re taken from me as much as you are, but who better to solve the problems of the universe than you?

He smiled. Who indeed?

She slapped his shoulder playfully. Don’t get cocky.

So how are you doing?

Better, she said, kissing his cheek once more. But after you ship out, I’m sure ice-cream will loudly call my name.

His grin grew. Be strong, girl. I know comfort food's appeal, but you can resist it. Fortunately, you weigh nothing, Kayli girl. I could hold you in my arms forever.

Ooh, you’ve won a few points with that one, big fella.

You keeping busy?

I am. Tom’s been gone two months now, but I’m swamped by school.

Your brother’s a good man, Kayli. Too bad I had to shoot him.

You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.

I did.

Did you use your Mouser, Jake? You know he hates that.

It shouldn’t be an issue. He and Chafer were wearing xylar vests. Jake spoke as if shooting her brother was an everyday thing.

Kayli glowered. Jake!

What? he said with a salty smile.

Jake Garrett, he is going to kill you. That stupid hand-cannon you carry hurts, even through xylar.

And just how would you know that?

She frowned. Sometimes, Jake, I could just . . . Ugh!

I’ll square it with him when this is over. I promise.

Her stern expression didn’t soften.

He’s my best friend, Kayli. He understands the need for realism. You should have seen the blood.

Honestly? she said sharply. I think you boys enjoy killing each other.

Putting that aside. Kayli, you know I love you, don’t you?

Do you? she said accusatorily. She had seen the message come in, and though it had been addressed to him, she read the sender’s name before she could stop herself. This was the second message from the same woman, the other woman. So who is Domino?

Ah, yes. Domino, huh? How’d you hear about her?

"You’ve received another communiqué from this . . . Domino person. I didn’t read any more than her name but still . . ."

Oh, good. I’ll read it before I ship out.

"Nice girl, this Domino?"

Jake half shrugged. Yes, I think so . . . for a twelve-year-old.

Kayli could feel her ire rise.