Poor Man's Fight (59 page)

The sound of a door opening for newcomers provided a slight distraction. The guard didn’t loo
k right away. “I mean really,” Frack said, “what else have you got to think about right now other than which gorgeous celebrity is sleeping with the guy who put you in here?”

“Markinson,” interrupted the familiar voice of the other guard.
Casey’s tormentor looked back down the hall, nodded and walked away. Casey sat back down on his thin bed.

Minutes passed before anything changed, but then
Casey heard footsteps outside his cell again. The tone was markedly different from those of the guards. His gaze shifted toward the hallway as he waited.

“Didn’t think you’d come down here in person,” he said once David Kiribati stood within view.

“Not everything can be trusted to an intermediary,” replied Kiribati.

Casey
raised an eyebrow. “That some sort of sarcasm?” he asked. “I did everything you asked. Turned up the pressure. Let the ship crews escape. Hit the fucking Hashemites where you suggested—and you knew that would cause a civil war, didn’t you? You knew it. This is what I get for all that?”

“And I held up my end of the deal.
I fed you all the information you asked for. But I asked you not to come back to Archangel space.” Kiribati’s tone remained calm and cool in contrast to Casey’s obvious anger.

“I told you, it’s a fucking
democracy
with my guys,” snarled Casey. “How much control did you think I had?”

“Calm down,
Casey. You know perfectly well I didn’t set you up for this.”

“No, but you could get me out of here!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kiribati shook his head. “You’re one of the most notorious criminals in the Union. You aren’t going anywhere, except to trial and then to prison. Give it a couple of weeks after that. Let the attention die off.”

Casey
’s eyes narrowed. “And then?”

“Archangel is going to need starship captains with combat experience,” Kiribati said. “Recent fiascos aside, a man like you might be worth his weight in gold very
soon.”

“…you’re really going to keep pushing the corp
orations?” Casey asked. Kiribati gave a short nod. “You’d give me back
Vengeance
?”

“No,” huffed the other man, “no, not on your life. There’s too much attention on our newest destroyer. But
we have other ships that aren’t on our books. You might find one of them very familiar. It’s amazing how easily certain luxury liners can be converted to combat ships.”

Curiosity shone in
Casey’s eyes, followed quickly by understanding, and then anger. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Kiribati merely shrugged. Casey had to let it go; he was in no position to make issue of it now. “Some of my crew survived. I want them.”

“Well, you certainly can’t have all of them. But you could probably have a few. I’ll get you a list. Two names, three at the most.”

“Done.”

“And you forget about revenge,” Kiribati warned. “You aren’t a pirate anymore. This isn’t an exchange of favors. You work for me now. Don’t think I won’t have plenty of leverage.”

The pirate shrugged. “There are more important things in life than revenge.”

About the Author

Like many Seattleites, Elliott Kay is a refugee from Los Angeles. He is a former Coast Guardsman with a Bachelor’s in History. Elliott has survived a motorcycle crash, electrocutions, severe seasickness, summers in Phoenix and winters in Seattle.

He can be reached by email at
[email protected]
and maintains a blog at elliottkay.blogspot.com.
He will gladly send out notifications of future works.

This is Elliott’s second novel. The first, “Good Intentions,” can be found on Amazon and Smashwords. Sequels to both “Good Intentions” and “Poor Man’s Fight” are on the way.