Read The Terminal War: A Space Opera Novel (A Carson Mach Adventure) for Free Online Page B

catch up with Beringer, who flew more cautiously toward the shaft of light radiating out of the Intrepid’s open fighter bay.  
    Mach had instructed Lassea, a former junior pilot of the CWDF Intrepid and now a solid member of his crew, to put the ship down on the edge of the landing zone. It was easier to spot in the fading light, unlike the mess of hundreds of dark shapes in the center of the paved strip.  
    “Nice hits back there,” Mach said and wrapped an arm around Adira’s waist.  
    She shrugged off his grip. “By that big oaf or me?”
    “You did a great job. And, I’ve got some good news.” Mach switched his screen to the ship’s comm channel. “Lassea, prepare for an immediate takeoff. We’ve got a new mission.”
    “Roger, Captain. Do you have coordinates?” she replied.  
    “The Vesta star port, we need to be there in forty-eight hours.”
    “Consider it done.”
    “Vesta?” Adira asked. “Beringer didn’t mention that.”
    Mach looked across to the archeologist powering through the air on the other bike. His gray hair and cream trouser suit flapped in the wind. “We’re taking a diversion. Morgan’s just given us one hell of a reason to put Beringer’s job on the back burner.”
    “I guess he doesn’t know that yet?”
    “We’ll explain when we get to Vesta. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
    Mach grinned with the satisfaction of a job done well, and with more rewards to come.  

Chapter Five

    Lassea counted down the moments of the Intrepid’s landing on the vestan star port. “Docking in T minus ten, nine, eight, seven…” A square of twenty open hangars surrounded sixty ships of various sizes, each parked in spaces of an illuminated grid system. This place was exceptionally tidy, Mach thought, watching the camera’s feed on the bridge screen.  
    The young CWDF pilot handled the Intrepid as though it were her baby, bringing her down softly and with no mean skill. She turned from her console station and looked up at Mach sitting in his captain’s chair.  
    “Landing complete, Captain,” she said, beaming a smile.  
    “Good job, as ever, Lass,” Mach said. “That landing wouldn’t have even spilled my drink—if I had one.”
    “Thanks,” she said, her cheeks flushing red.
    On the station next to her, the vestan engineer, Tulula, made to leave her position.  
    Mach held up his hand. “Sorry, Tulula, you’re staying here.”
    “What?” she asked, raising an arched eyebrow—an affectation she had got from spending so much time with Mach’s old war buddy, Sanchez.
    “I mean it,” Mach said. “You lot are staying put until I know what the vestans’ defense council want with us. Morgan has declined the opportunity to elucidate on the particulars.”
    “But this is my home,” Tulula said. “My people.”
    “She’s got a point,” Sanchez, the big hunter said. His tanned skin the results of spending a month recovering from an operation on the tropical paradise of Jeeroniva. It gave him the appearance of a leather shoe sole.  
    “No,” Mach said. “She doesn’t have a point. I do—as captain of this vessel, and the payer of your wages, especially as I’m going to discuss the details of the next job.”
    Beringer sighed like a petulant student.
    “Problem, Beringer?” Mach asked as though he didn’t know the man’s issue: pissed that he’d have to wait a few more weeks before he could get his hands on his artifact.  
    “This isn’t what I signed up for,” he said. “Hell, I paid you, and here we are, on bloody Vesta.”
    “Don’t worry, old man, you’ll get your ball to play with soon enough. It won’t take long, I’m sure.”
    “Mach, this is President Morgan. Are you coming out, or do I need to come in there and get you myself?” the president’s voice garbled through Mach’s smart-screen. He rolled his eyes and engaged the microphone. “I’ll be right there, Morgan. Keep your panties dry.”
    He shut off the audio segment of his