Fool's Gold: Carson Lyle's War - Part One Read Online Free PDF

landing front first and his head bouncing off the pavement.
    Lyle snatched is gun up from the ground and looked it over. "You forgot the safety."
    He holstered the gun and slung his bag back over his shoulder. He gave the men one last look to make sure they were all still breathing. The tattooed side of Shorty's face was lying in a pool of his own blood. That skull crack was going to be nasty to fix.
    He turned to head back to the street, but pulled out his data pad and sent an anonymous message to the medical center emergency line to send someone out. He'd be long gone by the time they got there.
    Lyle checked the time again and double-timed it back to the Shuttle dock.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
     
     
     
     
    Orbiting Space Port
    Planet Atlantia
     
    After arriving back at the Freight Port, and slogging his way through the Departure Security checkpoint, Carson Lyle ran the full length of the dock concourse to his berth at the far end. He cursed the whole way after realizing he was twenty minutes late. That lapse in punctuality was going to cost him a couple grand in penalties on top of his docking fees.
    He saw the Load Master standing in front of the boarding tube to his ship, looking less than pleased and talking to another hauler that looked familiar. Tall and slender, with darker skin, black hair, and a neatly trimmed goatee. Where had he seen him before?
    The Load Master noticed Lyle approaching and started pointed at his left wrist repeatedly.
    "Where the hell have you been? I've got other ships to get loaded!"
    "I know. I know. I had some people that wanted to say goodbye before I left and they wouldn't take no for an answer," he said while looking the hauler over.
    The foreman held out his data pad and pointed. "Chop there."
    Lyle did so. The system had barely acknowledged Lyle's chop, when the Load Master turned, hopped on to his electric cart and went on to the next job without any kind of farewell.
    He turned to the hauler that was still standing there. It took a moment, but he finally remembered where he'd seen him before. It was the guy that was trying hardest to get Shorty to keep bidding.
    "Do you need something?"
    The man shook his head and held out his hand. "Nope, I just wanted to shake your hand. You played Shorty like a cheap bet at the Botchi table."
    Lyle paused with a brief moment of apprehension, then shook the man's hand. "Yeah, thanks. So you know Shorty?"
    "Not really. Helped him with a job once or twice."
    "Did he pay you?"
    The man shrugged. "Took two weeks, after the fact."
    "Then you do know Shorty."
    The question had less to do with making conversation than it did helping Lyle get a feel for what this guy was up to. He judged the guy was probably just looking to get in good with someone more successful than he was. Lyle decided the man might be useful in his personal network. He'd ask around about him when he got back.
    "What's your name and what do you rate?"
    "Sweeney. Class 2."
    "Are you reliable?"
    "Absolutely!" Sweeney said, with maybe a little more enthusiasm than Lyle was comfortable with.
    He nodded approval. "Okay… Sweeney …I might have something for you when I get back. But I need to get going."
    Sweeney shook Lyle's hand again, more enthusiastically, this time. "Thank you, Sir! I share berth seventeen with two other ships. When The Eagle is docked here, I'm here," he said as Lyle turned away.
    Lyle waved as he walked toward the boarding tube. The Eagle? Gimme a break.
    Ordinarily, he'd have walked the Load Master through a visual inspection of the load, but being so late for departure negated that part of docking agreement so he did a quick, visual once over with binocs, from the inspection gantry that extended out from the station, along the long access of his docking berth.
    Even though it was just a quick inspection, the sight of the ship - in full view - always brought a smile to his face.
    The Majestic wasn't a beautiful ship, aesthetically speaking. To