DarkStar Running (Living on the Run Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

left her behind
he’d have to add another detestable hash mark to his helmet.
    Stan shook his head in resignation, and beckoned without
looking her way.
    Lilia scrambled up, and settled behind him into the second
seat, and then Stan fired up the engines. Although hers was hardly more than a
jumpseat, it was still big enough for her slender figure.
    “Under my seat, you’ll find my spare helmet, Troglodyte,” he
said, snugging his chinstrap. “Put it on.”
    She smacked the back of his helmet. “Stop calling me that!”
    He twisted in his seat to face her. “You got a lot of nerve
for a dead woman.”
    She glowered, defying him to unbuckle her now, and pry her
from his ship.
    Stan clenched his teeth, turned back, and slid the canopy
into place, then lifted off, knowing the scream of his engines would draw
attention. Troy would discover his deception—the missing body and no sign that
the Trog had been shot or otherwise abused—and would soon find Stan’s ship
absent.
    He knew that in their eagerness to skin him alive, his men
would come gunning for him. But space and the ship he flew were his element. As
always he felt his heart lift as his Dart shot up in a steep climb, but
this was no target practice against an unarmed cruise liner. He was in for the
fight of his life.
     
    Now chased by the seven other fighters, Stan’s twenty
minute, ten thousand mile head start wasn’t enough when offset by the added
weight of the waitress he should have, but couldn’t, leave behind.
    Stupid move, that, but it seemed very much in keeping with
all the other idiot decisions he’d made over the last few hours. It now seemed
to him that a body bag was determined to catch up to him.
    “What’s your plan, officer?”
    “I’m no longer an officer, lady. The name’s Stan Archer. You
can call me Swift.”
    “Yeah, fine. What are your plan . . . Stan ?”
    “Chagwa has an unmanned water processing plant. I’ll get
needed fuel there before we hop to the next system over.”
    “Isn’t there a mining base on Chagwa’s greater moon?”
    “Yeah, but it’s manned.”
    “Yeah? So?”
    “It’s manned.” Stan reiterated dryly. “That means people .”
    “But Chagwa’s an icicle. I’m hardly dressed in extreme weather
gear, sir,” Lilia said snidely. “I’ll be blast-frozen before you can close the
canopy.”
    He rolled his eyes. “And that’s bad . . . how?”
    “Why didn’t we just fly to somewhere else on Atheron?”
    “The transport in orbit has each of our ships tagged and could
track us wherever we went. We needed to get offworld and there’s nothing closer
than Chagwa. I simply haven’t the fuel to go elsewhere.”
    “Hmm. So while your spacesuit protects you, I get turned
into a popsicle. No way around that either, huh?”
    “I’ll defrost you. Now shut up and let me think.”
    “Oh, . . . peachy.”
    “What do you think this Dart is, your dad’s skitter?
I don’t need to get out to attach a fuel line. It’s a simple maneuver, a
thirty-second hookup, then . . . with any luck, jumping from system
to system, we’ll get to Praxis.”
    “Where do we go from there?”
    “We?” he said in irritation. “Beyond Praxis, we go
nowhere. I, on the other hand, have a keen little fighter to sell to some
pirate or slave trader. That’ll provide my passage to Providence.”
    “What about me?”
    “What do I care?” It was enough that he had to push his ship
beyond its design limits to stay ahead of the others—beyond their reach—beyond
their guns—beyond that waiting body bag. But on top of everything else, the
dead weight in the back seat was now plucking his last nerve, and needed to be
ditched as soon as possible.
    A near miss flash said his men were nearing. Even with every
gauge in the red and the small craft straining to obey him, his head start had
ultimately given him no advantage at all. Every Dart fighter pilot in
his squad, once a loyal friend, set Stan’s death as his goal, and