False Dawn

Chapter 17

Survival was Jack's first order of business. With the temperatures on Achelve dipping into negative numbers, staying warm was the first priority.

She had been homeless before. No big deal, really. Just gotta do what you had to. So she started walking.

The city of West Side County, if that was it's name, was a 'normal' city if ever there was one. It was filled with normal people going about their normal lives in completely normal ways. There was probably crime, but she guessed it was probably looked at like a flu bug, or a traffic stop. Just something to deal with and hope it didn’t happen to you, but otherwise ignore.

A business district at the dinner hour fit her needs exactly. She entered a café, trying to look as normal as possible, which was actually pretty damn hard. She was sure her eyes were puffy, her face now chapped from the cold, her teeth clicking together, and her clothes were bagging so much that she had to stop nearly every other step and hitch her pants up.

The café was large and she managed to circle the whole place, trying to make it look like she was looking for someone. About three quarters of the way through, now dressed in a thick winter coat and carrying a large handbag with another tucked neatly inside, she joined a group that was just leaving. Hood up to hide her face from those at the entrance who had seen her enter, she walked out with the group, and then quickly lost them in the crowd.

The thick black coat was a blessing. It had obviously belonged to a resident that was used to preparing for the frigid temperatures. Stepping up to a cred machine, she quickly set up an account using some false numbers and a fictitious name. There were five cred chips between the two bags she had picked up. She came up with a total of a couple thousand creds. It wasn't much, but it would work.

The thing that threw her off the most was the date. Her suspicions of lost time had been correct. If the cred machine was right fourteen months had passed since she'd been shot on Tiborne 1. She had spent around eight months locked in Chem Industries. That left at least five or six months missing. Which would explain the sickness the nurse had mentioned in the hospital. Long stays in cryo could cause flu like symptoms, disorientation and near dementia. But why would they keep them for so long in cryo? Was there a reason other than wanting to dump them on this particular planet? Or were they just randomly flying past and remembered to get rid of them? She didn't have the answers.

A clothing store was the next stop. She went through and picked out several outfits, tucking underclothes in between, before heading to the dressing room. She came out much warmer, but carrying much less. To make sure she wasn't suspected too much, she bought several pairs of panties and bras, and several other things she would need. Once outside she stepped around the corner and into an alley. She quickly stripped her outside layer of clothes off, leaving one of the two she'd put on under it showing.

Two hours later she approached the shipping docks looking like someone just looking for a job. She carried a duffel full of all the necessary toiletries and clothes, a weapon she'd managed to buy out of hawk, a nice quality blade that needed sharpening, her cred chip, and her son's ashes.

The docks were a twenty-four hour place. The bustle of the busiest part of the day was over, but there was still random activity. She approached the first ship she saw, intending to get legal passage, instead of her old time fav of stowing away.

After receiving no answer whatsoever at two and being chewed out by an irate old man at the other, she moved to the fourth ship, pleased to see that its hatch was down. She looked around and saw no one, and when she received no answer to her calls she entered cautiously. It was a large freighter, with more than a dozen cryo tubes lined along one passage. She found no one in the cockpit, and still was not getting a response to her calls, so she followed the sound of clanking metal and the smell of diesel and rust to the cargo hold.

"Hello?" she called softly as she stepped from the last rung of the steep ladder. The clanging sound that she had heard was now silent, leaving an eerie silence. She stood at the ready, knowing her search for life was near its end, and knowing she was the trespasser here.

The cargo was larger than she'd have guessed, and only part of it was stacked with secured crates of a number of different sizes. Junk was everywhere. The other, smaller side of the hold held several small ships and cruisers in different stages of repair, or disrepair, depending on how you looked at it.

"Hello?" she called again as she edged forward, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement.

Nothing. Then a whisper of sound came from behind her and she spun around and blocked her head just in time to keep from being hit by a wrench that had been aimed at her head.

The man standing before her showed a moment of surprise and it was his undoing. She swung a leg out, knocking his out from under him, and was on top of him, blade at his throat within seconds.

He smiled, white even teeth shining up out of his tanned face. "I guess I lose. What will be the punishment?"

Short unruly hair nearly stood up from his head. Dark blue eyes held more humor in them than she'd ever seen before. His lean hard body beneath hers did not go unnoticed either. He was young, good looking, and grinning at her like he'd like nothing more than to reverse their positions.

Until that moment Jack didn't realize how anti-social she was. She was almost twenty years old. She should be out dating and flirting, or whatever dippy girls did. No, she was poor and homeless, a wanted criminal, the mother of the universe's worst mass murderer’s only known child, and suspicious of everyone.

"Where's the captain?" she asked, not moving from her position.

His smile widened if that was possible. "You're on him."

Jack smirked at that. Not the best way to go about asking for a job. Her eyes narrowed a bit at him before she slowly got off of him, keeping her eyes on him as he stood.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked, the smile still splitting his face.

It was unsettling to Jack. For months she had literally not seen another soul accept for on the Vid. And before that her experiences were limited with such . . . jovial people. "When is this ship leaving and where is it going?"

He stepped away from her to lean against the front of a toolbox nearby, his hands toying with the wrench he still held. "My crew is out for the night. We're scheduled to leave at 1400 tomorrow. We don't have a destination as of yet."

Jack saw him negligently leaning there, the tool in his hands a possible weapon, and she casually took a step back to give herself more time in case he attacked. "I want off this rock. Do you need help?"

His smile dimmed for a moment as he looked her over, "What do you do?"

Her eyes narrowed at the obvious perusal. "There isn't much I don't do, but if you need to get laid, there're whores on the strip."

Her snapped words didn't faze him. "You're a mechanic?"

"Pilot, mechanic, medic, assassin. I could even stay on as the fucking cook."

"You pilot?" he asked, his brows rising as he looked at her. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

The tool in his hand flipped over and over, making a mechanical clicking noise. "Where'd you learn to fly?"

Jack let one brow slowly raise, "The cockpit."

He grinned, "Well, yes. That makes sense." He stood, setting the tool down. "I could use another pilot. All my crew are mechanics first, and mostly. I could use you as a medic too. We've been sticking band aids on gashes for quite a while."

Jack said nothing.

He stopped at the bottom of the ladder going up to the level above, and turned back to her. "Don't mention what happened down here," he said, and for the first time Jack saw something besides interest or humor in his bright eyes. "And I wouldn't mention the bit about assassin to the rest of the crew."

She nodded.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, welcome aboard." He held his hand out until she hesitantly stepped forward and took it in her much smaller one. His hand squeezed hers and he stared at her intently. "Don't make me regret this."

She nodded again.

He nodded, seeming as if they came to an understanding. Finally, he shook her hand, "Name's Trow."

Jack smiled a bit in return, "Jack."

His head cocked a bit, "Alright, Jack, let me show you your room."

The room he led her to was tiny, but surprisingly clean. She wouldn't complain. She was leaving this fucked up planet, she had a sort of home, and she was alive. That and she didn't have to share it with anyone.

"Like I said, we're leaving at 1400. Otherwise, your time is yours."

Jack dropped her bag on the bed, sending dust into the air. He just turned to leave.

"Trow."

He turned back after making it through the narrow doorway.

Jack nodded, "Thank you. I'm sorry about the knife."

He smiled, "I'm not. Not often I get knocked on my ass and enjoy it so much." With that he left, boots clomping noisily on the metal grate of a floor.

Jack sat down and started to unpack.