Outer Rim Rough Riders: Outer Rim Rough Riders, #1

By Jonathan Paul Isaacs

In a galaxy broken by war, the ceasefire didn't stop the conflicts.
It just moved them out of sight.

 

Noah Denson thought he was just taking another job.

 

Smuggle the spy. Run the blockade. In this case, free the prisoner. Freelancers like Noah made a fortune providing services like these—especially when they had a fold drive starship and could jump light years at a time.

 

But what started as a simple jailbreak turns into something much different when a warship intercepts them during their escape. It seems a Combine admiral needs him to take on a second mission. This one involves prisoners, too--except these are grakken, hostile aliens and mankind's mortal enemy, and they need to be delivered to a secret military base for interrogation.

 

Two unrelated contracts. One conflicting schedule. Zero choice.

In his effort to complete both, Noah never imagined what he might set in motion.

 

And it would end up making him a legend.

 

Set out on a grand adventure with a captain and his motley crew in this brand new science fiction series. If you're a fan of Firefly, Cowboy Bebop, or Andor, this might just be the story you've been waiting for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mighty Hudson Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215237489

Book preview

OUTER RIM

ROUGH RIDERS

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Jonathan Paul Isaacs

Text copyright © 2023 by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

All Rights Reserved

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express permission by the author.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1: A HASTY EXIT

CHAPTER 2: MAN IN A BOX

CHAPTER 3: EXTRA CREDIT

CHAPTER 4: AND DEATH GRINNED

CHAPTER 5: SPACING

CHAPTER 6: UNDER THE SURFACE

CHAPTER 7: NERVOUS NAVIGATION

CHAPTER 8: A BOY AND HIS DOG

CHAPTER 9: MACHINATIONS

CHAPTER 10: REIGNING IN

CHAPTER 11: PRO LIBERTATE

CHAPTER 12: INTERLOPERS

CHAPTER 13: CONTACT FRONT

CHAPTER 14: CLIPPED WINGS

CHAPTER 15: BUT FOR THE GRACE

CHAPTER 16: ENDINGS ... AND BEGINNINGS

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ALSO BY JONATHAN PAUL ISAACS

CHAPTER 1: A HASTY EXIT

Noah was going to die with a hole in his back.

He could see the shuttle at the end of the docking pier. He could also see his first officer, Fitzsimmons, sprinting ahead of him to reach the open ramp. Even the reflection of the four police officers chasing him down the pier shone on the mirrored hull. He just couldn’t see which one might be aiming a weapon at him while he ran so hard that his lungs were about to explode.

Stop! called out a gruff voice.

Go! he gasped at Fitz.

The metal cylinder he clutched in his arms didn’t make it any easier. The thing weighed at least thirty kilos, and because it only had handles near one end, it dangled with every stride. That meant the super-cold surface stuck to any exposed skin it happened to touch. Like Noah’s forearms. And just above his belt where his shirt had pulled out. Then the next stride sent it dangling with a little extra flesh glued to it.

He supposed he could afford a skin graft if they actually pulled this off.

Fitz was shouting toward the shuttle’s hatch. Get ready to launch!

The engines let out a cough that was followed quickly by a deep rumble. Noah knew as soon as they made it aboard that the shuttle would close its hatch and separate from the pier. They wouldn’t be out of trouble yet, but at least the goons running after them would no longer be in the picture.

The crack of a ballistic pistol rang out. The associated zing sailed past Noah’s head and into the spacecraft’s hull.

Hey! he panted. "That’s my shuttle!"

Fitzsimmons reached the ramp and dove headfirst through the hatch, disappearing beyond the threshold in a jumble of crashes and cursing. Noah knew it now came down to him, his legs, and this stupid goddamn cylinder. He could feel the heat from his body trying to melt its way past the frost.

Zing. More projectiles. Zing-zing.

Something hit the cylinder, almost punching it out of his grasp, but he was close now and he pounded out the last few meters to the docking ramp like a sprinter nearing the finish line. As soon as he crossed the threshold, his legs dumped him into an ungainly heap on the deck.

Chief Merrick stood next to the hatch, all five-foot-six of him, holding a grab bar in one hand and a blaster in the other. He mashed the door controls with the back of his knuckles and the powered hatch slid closed like a guillotine. He’s clear!

The shuttle was already lurching upward before he even finished the sentence.

Fitzsimmons sat on the other side of the airlock and gasped for air like a fish suffocating on the shore. I better get up there, he said.

Merrick gave him a shrug. Or Andrea could just fly us into orbit.

"Andrea is not flying us to orbit." Fitz rose to the feet with the steadiness of a wobbly toddler. He quickly disappeared up the ladder to the flight deck.

The Chief reached down to help Noah get to his feet. Guess you will want to join them too—wait, you’re bleeding.

I am? Noah said.

He looked down and saw a smear of red splattered against the side of his jacket. A bullet had grazed him right near his kidney. But he hadn’t felt it because his skin had become numb from the cylinder...

His gaze shifted to the metal tube. A wave of true horror washed away the fatigue.

A neat little hole made a dent in the metal near the bottom edge.

A luminescent green fluid was leaking through the puncture.

Oh, no.

Get on the radio. Noah swung the cylinder around until Merrick grasped the handle. "Call Doc, tell him we need reconstitution procedures as soon as we dock with the Psycho Killer."

Reconstitute–like, for dehydrated rations?

Exactly.

Three separate lines creased Merrick’s forehead. He stared at the cylinder with confusion. "What is this?"

Our client, Noah said and rushed after Fitz.

CHAPTER 2: MAN IN A BOX

It seemed like forever for Noah to reach the flight deck with the shuttle under full burn. Every step felt like lead shoes were strapped to his feet, or perhaps akin to walking through waist-deep mud. Or maybe both. By the time he strapped into the captain’s chair, the idea of remaining there for a week and having his meals and laundry delivered sounded pretty good.

Give me a sitrep, he said.

About to enter the upper atmosphere, Fitz said. Both he and Andrea sat below and in front of Noah’s feet inside the cramped compartment. Dre’s listening in on the police channels, says there’s a fighter patrol rerouting after us.

Andrea interrupted their pilot with the finesse of an angry forklift. "If you would let me fly Baby Killer, they wouldn’t catch us."

They still won’t catch us, Dre.

Andrea swiveled her head, the cabin lighting catching the lines of the silver astrogator tattoos around her face. You’re just jealous of my superior skills.

Dre—suborbital piloting is different than folding space.

No different. It’s just piloting.

Fitz didn’t take his eyes off the instruments as Baby Killer punched through more cloud cover. "I wouldn’t call what you do piloting. You just plug your brain into a computer and tell it to fold space."

So?

"So, when you do your thing, Psycho Killer isn’t even technically moving. It’s everything around it that is."