Free Forsaken Skies by D. Nolan Clark Page A

father’s voice, again. Dear old Dad had always been fond of pilot’s argot, despite the fact he hadn’t flown himself anywhere for thirty years before Maggs was born.
    â€œThe war with DaoLink will be over soon,” Maggs said. “Then we’ll be out of your hair.”
    The woman snorted angrily. It looked like she was about to spit on his boot. He would be forced to respond in the interest of honor if she did.
    So he was somewhat glad when a sudden crunch drew their collective attention back to the connecting door. Someone had picked up the marine pugilist and thrown him against the wall of the train, hard enough that the entire Navy car shook. Other marines jumped to attention, their boots thundering on the floor.
    The intercessor was a very tall fellow in a heavy suit with the helmet up and polarized. He bent over the enlisted on the floor, checking the poor beggar’s pulse.
    Behind him stood another Naval officer, also in a heavy suit. This one had his helmet down, revealing a face old and craggy—enough so it made Maggs think of the old woman he’d just fleeced.
    The old man looked right at Maggs, through the door. His eyes narrowed.
    Slowly he bent and touched the shoulder of the giant. Getting his attention. Then they were both looking at Maggs. Staring at him.

    They’d been so damned close. They could have cut Maggs off at the next station, flanked him and had him pinned. Then the stupid marine had to go and start a fight in the middle of a crowded train car.
    And of course Valk had to intervene.
    It could have gone very badly—well, worse than it did. Valk might be strong enough to throw one marine around like a toy, but his buddies would have made short work of the traffic controller, and Lanoe, too. Luckily one of them had been smart enough to ping Lanoe’s cryptab and notice his rank. That made them all stand aside—and in the process, Maggs caught sight of them.
    The pretty little bastard clearly knew he was being followed. Through the connecting door Lanoe saw him turn and run for it, jumping over the feet of civilian passengers, shoving straphangers out of his way.
    â€œHe’s moving,” Lanoe said, slapping the release button for the connecting door. “You stay here—I’ll get him.”
    â€œI’m not letting you out of my sight,” Valk insisted.
    Lanoe didn’t waste breath on a reply. He hurried into the next car, pushing his way through the passengers. Some idiot tried to stop him with an outstretched arm—“Stay in your own damned car,” she said—but Lanoe just twisted under the arm and bulled his way through. Up ahead he saw the connecting door to the next car was open. Well, there was only one direction for Maggs to run.
    And only one more car in front of this one.
    Lanoe hurried through. Thankfully the front car wasn’t crowded. He jumped over a drunk who lay sprawled half in and half out of a seat, then grabbed a pole as the train banked around a tight curve in the tracks.
    Up ahead he saw the door at the front of the train slide open. Grimy air burst into the train and made Lanoe’s eyes water. He blinked to clear them and saw Maggs standing in the door frame, his boots right on the edge. The idiot must not have realized he was out of places to run.
    â€œJust stand down,” Lanoe called.
    Valk came up behind him. Together they moved forward, slowly. The swindler lieutenant was cornered and Lanoe knew how dangerous that could make a man. He raised his hands to show he wasn’t armed. “We’re not going to hurt you,” he said.
    Maggs laughed. “You might
try,
” he said.
    Sheer bravado. Lanoe had seen what Valk did to that marine—Maggs was about half of the traffic controller’s size. If they wanted to make this nasty, the fool wasn’t going to come out of it as pretty as he went in.
    Lucky for him Lanoe didn’t want that. “You’ve got