Wreckers: A Denver Boyd Novel George Ellis (book series for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

When I towed other ships, their crews and passengers usually stayed on their own vessel for the duration. That was barring uninhabitable conditions, like the time I towed a leisure cruiser that had sprung a core reactor leak. All 29 people on board had to cram into the Stang for eight grueling, smelly days. It was better than radiation poisoning, of course, but the way some of them complained about eating freeze-dried protein packs twice a day, maybe they’d have preferred a slow death from internal bleeding.

The point was, I hadn’t stopped for supplies since a few weeks before picking up Batista, so rations were already spread thin. Now I had yet another mouth to feed. The size of the man it belonged to made me even more concerned that the fridge, freezer and pantry would soon be empty. Given the bounty on our heads, I had no idea where the next safe port would be, meaning we might have to stretch supplies until Jasper Station. Six more days. The coffee maker whirred and sputtered out a pot of soybean substitute. Edgar had just sat down and he eyed the brown liquid with contempt.

“Bad news: I ran out of the real stuff about a month ago,” I explained to him. Batista was also at the table, but she already knew the deal. “Good news: this soybean crap is the one thing we won’t run out of. A freighter couldn’t pay me a couple jobs back, so they gave me two crates of the stuff.”

“I don’t work on barter,” Edgar noted. I handed him a cup anyway and sat down. The three of us looked at each other for a few moments. Batista and I sipped the soy-coffee. Edgar just watched us. It tasted like hell, but it did the trick – what the stuff lacked in flavor, it made up for in caffeine.

I settled into my chair and considered my crew. We were three loners, somehow thrown together on a mission that none of us understood. Well, at least I didn’t.

“I’ll start,” Batista said, unable to wait any longer. She turned to Edgar. “Why are you on this ship?”

“Same reason you are, babe,” Edgar replied.

“I’m done. This is pointless.” Batista shook her head and stood up. She began to leave the kitchen.

Edgar smiled at me.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Guess she didn’t tell you that your brother was alive,” he said, matter of fact. Then he downed half his coffee and sat back in his chair, content.

I turned my gaze to Batista, who was frozen in place by the door. I could tell by her body language Edgar wasn’t making it up. She’d known all along.

“It’s not that simple,” she explained.

“It’s not? Then explain it to me,” I said. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and knew I was turning crimson. I didn’t care.

Batista kept her eyes averted from mine. She glared at Edgar. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe. Least I’m an honest piece of shit. You heard the captain. Explain why you’ve been lying to him this whole time.”

Hard to believe, but I agreed with him. Batista owed me a damn good explanation.

“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” she said.

“Try again. Only this time, tell me the real reason or I’ll drop you off at the next port, even if it means risking being caught,” I said.

“Denver, let’s not get crazy,” Gary butted in.

“Stay out of it, Gary,” I warned.

Batista mulled over her options and decided she had no choice but to come clean. She sighed. “Avery made me promise not to tell anyone, especially you.”

I felt a hollow ache in my gut. My brother and I had been many things, but we were never enemies. The idea that he would let me believe he was dead seemed beyond cruel. It didn’t mesh with the usual state of our relationship, as rocky as it was. Then I suddenly felt a gnawing concern.

“Is my father even dead?” I asked her.

Edgar answered first. “Yup. Floating somewhere a few hundred thousand clicks off Mars.”

The big man then got up and moved to the cabinets. “Hungry,” he muttered to himself. We may as well have been talking about Baywatch, for all he cared. Death meant nothing to him. He grabbed a candy bar I knew I should’ve hid and leaned on the counter, slowly unwrapping it.

I wasn’t sure if I should feel sad or relieved about my father (still) being dead. I’d come to terms with my old man being gone. Having to re-engage that part of my life would have been painful, even if it meant he was still alive. I quickly examined my feelings on the matter and realized, yes, it was easier this way.

Great, another thing to feel guilty about.

I pushed those thoughts aside for the moment and focused back on the matter at hand.

“Why do you need to get to Jasper Station?” I asked Batista. “And why the deadline?”

She eyed Edgar, then moved back to her chair and sat down. She looked at her mug of coffee. “I think we’re all gonna need something harder than this.”

I wasn’t in the mood to hand out any alcohol, so after a quick glance at Edgar, she proceeded.

“Are we sure we can trust him?” she asked me.

“Right now, I trust him more than you,” I said.

She nodded and leaned forward to meet my eyes.

“Your brother is on the Roxelle Baker,” she told me. I already knew this, but didn’t bother to interrupt. “I assume you’ve heard of it?”

I nodded. Edgar continued munching on what was probably the last candy bar on the Stang. He tried to keep a relaxed look about him, but I could see his interest was piqued. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Batista to know that part.

“When Silver Star had your father killed, they gave your brother a choice. He could join your dad or join the crew of the Rox. Avery might not be the mechanic you or your father was, but he had