[01] Elite: Wanted Read Online Free PDF Page A

flight panel of the
Dragon Queen
in disgust. ‘Fuck! Again!’
    ‘Would you like to try one more time?’ The
Dragon Queen
was offering her a restart. Ziva took two deep breaths, considered it and then shook her head; the simulation obediently shut down and the stars of deep space filled her vision once more. The
Dragon Queen
was a Fer-de-Lance too. She wasn’t the same model as the one from the simulation, not even much like it under the skin, not with a hundred years of technical evolution between them, but that wasn’t the point. The Fer-de-Lance was then, was now, and always would be
the
best long-range interceptor ever built. There was no way that any generation of Cobra should out-fight one, certainly not two of them and
certainly
not when
she
was one of the pilots. In the right hands there simply wasn’t a better ship, never had been and never would be. Yet every time she ran the simulation of Jameson’s last recorded engagement, he beat her. Yes, by then he was a legend, one of the Elite, the great name of the Pilots’ Federation back when they’d been so absurdly picky about who they let in. There were probably only about six people across known space in those days who’d
really
made it to the elite council …
    She stopped herself. Took a deep breath. It rankled, that was all, being consistently beaten by a dead man. This had been Jameson’s last jump. It was a mystery what had happened to him after he’d been ambushed by the two glory-hunters in their shiny new Fer-de-Lances. They hadn’t taken him, that much was sure, but no one knew where he’d gone after that. His flight profile had shown him heading back to Lave but he’d never arrived. Bounced out of hyperspace by Thargoids, some said. Caught in a wormhole, said others. Just had enough and vanished, perhaps. Ziva thought the last was the most likely. He’d had nothing left to prove, credits coming out of his ears, and it must have grated after a while, idiots picking fights everywhere he went just because of who he was.
    Speaking of which …
    She took another deep breath. She was putting it off, that’s what it was. That was why she’d had so much sim-time over the last two days. Putting off the choice she had to make. Somewhere within a few dozen light-years was the pirate she only knew as Newman. Newman had a nice fat bounty on his head, nice enough to get the
Dragon Queen
through the service she was due. Then Ziva could see a man in Darkes Hollow about getting the storage capacitors on the ship’s twin x-ray lasers tweaked up; and
then
she’d finally be able to make full use of the black market mil-spec power circuits the two weird women had traded her in Eta Cassiopeiae a few months back. It had been one of those don’t ask, don’t tell back door transactions, although given the presence of the Federation Navy training facilities, it was more a case of which ship they’d been stolen from rather than whether they’d been stolen at all. She’d known that and she’d still bought them.
    Even after all that, Newman’s bounty would still leave enough over for a few months down-time to sort her shit out with Enaya.
    The thought made her check her k-cast messages again. Micro-jumping played havoc with every piece of communications equipment she’d ever met but she hadn’t missed much this time. Another very polite message from Radall Martic Holdings raising their offer of corporate sponsorship to two hundred credits per solar day plus all fuel, service and repair bills, inviting her to come and discuss freelancing for their
Federation’s Most Dangerous
show.
Federation’s Most Dangerous
was syndicated across pushing a hundred worlds now and Radall Martic had half a dozen bounty hunters commissioned to it, some of the best. From what Ziva had picked up, the show paid a lot better than the bounties they pulled in for it. She even watched it sometimes – checking out the competition.
    The other message was from Enaya. Another one. Ziva