Free The Hunted Assassin by Paul B Kohler Page B

stocking his go bag with used riggings as opposed to the top of the line company-issued gear. What could he tell the old guy without sounding too farfetched?
    “What, this old thing? I, uh, picked this up off of a freighter about a year ago. I think the merchant said something about it belonging to some government guy that got blasted out into space. Sometimes I feel it’s a size or two too small for me, know what I mean?” Jaxon hoped that his improvisational skills were up to snuff.
    DeWitt nodded, contemplating Jaxon’s marginally believable story. “Sometimes it’s all about being in the right place at the right time. Like I said earlier, I got this here plot of land for a song because the miners felt they had cleared as much useful salvage from the surface that they could. Shortly after closing escrow, a buddy of mine down on earth heard about this new gizmo that’s able to strip mine the surface much more thoroughly. The device set me back the rest of my savings, but ever since, I’ve been laughing all the way to the bank by what I’ve been able to haul in,” DeWitt said, returning his attention to the controls.
    Jaxon nodded and listened for the next fifteen minutes as DeWitt continued to regale him about his mining adventures on the moon. It also gave him time to reflect a bit about the choices he’d made. Although the environment up on Taloo Station was a virtual Shangri-La compared to the moon’s surface, at least here on the moon you had something. Something that you could call your own, and the ability to get away from it all. Up on Taloo, all you could do was escape as far as the confines of the station would allow. And none of it was yours. It was all a leased life, and Jaxon wondered where his own lease on life would end up.
     

     

14
     
     
    Before long, Jaxon could see Carver Outpost grow along the horizon. He couldn’t help but wonder if he could’ve done more to alter his appearance before ditching the Bradbury. He made a mental note that when he set up his next go bag that he would include a bottle of hair dye and some clippers to change up his physicality. It’s the least he could do on short notice.
    As they pulled into Carver, Jaxon compared the facility to something like an old Western town set on the edge of the plains. Desolation spread as far as the eye could see and there were only four or five structures clustered together like an oasis in the sand. DeWitt maneuvered his moon buggy through an automatically controlled gate and parked next to the entrance to the station.
    DeWitt turned to Jaxon and said, “Well, this is it. Hope I didn’t bore you too much along the way.”
    “Not at all. You sure I can’t give you something?” Jaxon asked, pulling a fistful of credits from his pocket.
    “Nope. I’ve got all I need. I’ve got a little business inside, but I hope you have yourself a nice day.”
    As the all clear sign turned green, DeWitt opened both hatch doors, and they walked out into the outpost. DeWitt was off on his own path without another word. Jaxon cautiously surveyed the facility, paying extra attention to the potential presence of more assassins. Slowly, he made his way through the streets of the open market, circling back to the station’s entrance doors.
    Satisfied that the place appeared to be occupied by no more than the locals, he relaxed a bit and was off to take care of some things.
    The first line of business was to trade in his environmental suit. He found a secondhand merchant store and walked right up to the counter.
    “Excuse me, but I’m looking for a new environmental suit.”
    The man behind the counter turned and looked Jaxon up and down. His eyes widened slightly, but he quickly dismissed his surprise. “Sorry, fella. We don’t sell new here. We only have used.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jaxon said, “I don’t necessarily mean new. Just new to me. I have grown tired of this one, and I’m looking for … something different. You take