Rebel Stars 1: Outlaw Read Online Free PDF

Even if we can find someone to take on the case, I doubt they'll be top of the class."
    He laughed and brought the Tine about, putting it on an intercept course with the red line that marked the asteroid's original course. As the scanner started scooping up the various ions left behind by the recent passage of other vessels—ions that were almost but not quite as unique as a fingerprint—Rada opened up a line.
    Not to the cops, but to the net. Their current location was far enough out in the black that the poky lightspeed communications made for a frustrating lag, but she wasn't headed for the usual channels. She was going to the Labyrinth. Even with her connections at the Hive, establishing access was going to take a few minutes. The sooner she had that going, the sooner they could follow up on whoever else had been here.
    Stressful as their current conditions might be, she found nothing more meditative than drifting through space, the stars steady on the screen, the engine humming like a whale in the middle of a note that would never end. It felt right. Like destiny fulfilled. In the long, troubled history of human existence, no one had ever made it to another star (excluding Weirdness, anyway, but he didn't count). It wasn't for lack of trying. Ships got out there, deep in the nothing, and then they just…disappeared. Not a word returned to tell their fate. Any rescue efforts, any drones dispatched to their last known coordinates—those too vanished into the eternal night.
    Even so, Rada thought that someday, she might give it a try.
    "Contact."
    Simm said it the way you'd mention where you bought your new shoes, and for a moment, the word meant nothing to her. She glanced up from her pad, annoyed with everything, and stared at the unlabeled dot winking on the local map.
    "Oh," she said. "Tell me that's a cop."
    Simm shook his head. "They're not broadcasting any signal at all."
    "Weapons hot." Rada checked her straps and found them firm. "Let's show them our teeth are more than paint."

4
    Webber staggered, blinking against the stars dazzling his vision. He cringed, attempting to brace himself for the man's second punch.
    Someone grunted. Webber was no gruntologist, but it sounded like a surprised grunt. The knockout punch did not arrive as expected. A second person grunted. He recognized that grunt. It was Jons, performing something physical and unpleasant. The first man grunted a second time. His tone was pained.
    Thudding noises, capped off by a large and final one.
    Abruptly, Webber came to. Jons stood in front of him, breathing hard, hunched over the immobile body of the bald man. Only one of the bald man's crew was conscious and he was too busy grabbing his blown-out knee to think about continuing the fight.
    Webber rubbed his thudding jaw. "Where'd the sprite go?"
    "He ran off as soon as I foiled Mr. Rock of the Scarred Dome here." Jons grabbed his collar. "And running is the best idea I've seen all day."
    They dashed through the gawping bystanders. When they were halfway to the door, the crowd burst into applause.
    Outside, the streets of Midnight-One were the typical scene of drunken laughter, shouting, and people depositing precious fluids into the gutters to be dutifully recycled by the machinery of the station. Jons settled into a no-nonsense jog toward the elevators.
    "What the hell, Webber?" His face was clenched like a fist around the hilt of a knife. "I mean, damn!"
    "I thought brawls were your idea of a good night."
    "You didn't even know what it was about ! For all you know, you just helped out the bad guy!"
    "I don't care." Webber rubbed his face. Was already swelling. "You swing on a guy four to one, that makes you the asshole."
    Jons laughed, looking angry with himself for doing so. "Next time, at least wait until day two to start throwing punches, okay?"
    They found a room on Twilight where such things were cheapest. It was obvious neither of them would be able to sleep for a while, so while Webber