He sank to his knees and punched the air in triumph with his good arm.
"You made it." The armored figure sounded peevish. "I'll be damned, you made it."
Hector smiled. It might be a small accomplishment relative to what he'd achieved while he was alive, but it had the sweet taste of victory nevertheless. "Better luck next-"
The armored man shook his head; then shot Hector through the chest.
***
Snap!
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Tren-Hump, Hector. TH15D3AD-1485-13A6-5661A946B3101857
Cycles: 43 CPU Credit: 26% Ducks: 28.3
*MAIL*
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Hector jerked upright, screaming the scream he would have screamed at the time he was shot; if he'd had any lungs.
He triggered the mail and the voice of the ChaseMaster filled his head.
"G'day mate. Sorry about that. The client accepts that ya won, fair and square. One of 'em got a bit carried away. The thrill of the chase—ya know how it is. Anyway, by way of makin' amends etcetera, he's authorized a bonus payment that you'll get along with this message."
Hector ground his teeth as the display clicked over, adding an extra Duck. "Cheap Bastards." He should have made his way to the chase center for his next assignment but now he had some Ducks he had other things on his mind.
Hector focused on the call connection for his lawyer, using his mental interface to dial the right digits. An image opened up inside his vision much to his relief; he'd wondered if they stopped outside calls—they no doubt could if they wanted.
"Travis-Inge-Badouil associates, how may I help you?"
"Put me through to Inge right away, it's Tren-Hump."
"Tren-Hump? That's not... I'm sorry, Mr. Inge is not in right now."
"Don't mess with me, Fionna. This is Hector Tren-Hump. You know me. I want to speak to my lawyer right away."
"Thank you for calling Travis-Inge-Badouil, have a nice day."
"I'll have y-" Hector balled a fist as the call was disconnected. When he tried again he found the connection blocked. "That little - just wait till I get hold of Inge."
The next number Hector tried was his old direct line. After his lawyer, the next best chance was his son. The call connected in seconds and Jeremy stared at him with a wooden smile.
"Thank god you're there. Get hold of that stupid lawyer of mine right away. He needs to straighten out this mess. You wouldn't believe everything that's happened-"
"Yeah, sure errrr... Dad. I mean, it's good seeing you. You must be having a blast."
"That's not what I..." Hector didn't have time to explain. "It's not like they said."
"No? It must be fun not worrying about things anymore." Jeremy glanced at his watch. "Look... 'Dad'. It's been... great... yeah, great, talking but I have a conference call with... someone. It's business, you know how it is..."
Something in Jeremy's face made Hector suspicious. His instincts kicked him firmly in the gut. Something was wrong; what could possibly be more important than a call from him? "Who's the call with, son?"
"Oh, it's not important Dad, just business. Don't worry about that stuff anymore. You go enjoy yourself."
Enjoy himself? Hector grimaced at what it had cost him to be able to make a call. "Listen Jeremy, I need you to pay attention. Something went wrong when I transferred. I've got no clothes, no money, no status. Everything I signed up for is gone. I'm telling you, son, I've been ripped off."
"Mr. Spagley on line three, Mr. Tren-Hump," announced Jeremy's desk phone.
"You're talking to Spagley? From the Union? Listen, son. Don't let those radicals push you around. Stall them if you have to and I'll take care of them once this mess is sorted out. Now get hold of Inge and tell him-"
"Sure Dad. Got to go. Been errr... great talking. Must do it again. Soon. Bye."
"Wait-"
The image vanished before Hector could say anymore. That worthless... after all he'd done for that ungrateful brat. The best schools, a Porsche on his 18th, Ferrari on his 21st. How many other kids had their own ten-meter yacht before they were twenty? And Hector knew all about the "secret" parties. He'd given that kid the best of everything. And now the idiot was going to let the unions walk all over him and destroy Hector's company.
Again his attempt to reconnect was blocked. The next number that came to mind was useless and Hector tried to avoid completing the call, but it connected automatically. He'd not spoken to Miley-Ellyn since she'd joined the commune as an "incubator" fifteen years ago.
"Hey, Dad. Good to hear from you. Been a long time. How are you?"
"Dead. Miley, I need you to get hold of my l-"
"Yeah? Cool. That's really cool. Aare you calling from Heaven?"
"Not exactly. I'm in Elyzium. You have to-"
"That's like... France huh? Is that where you died?"
Hector cursed. What had he ever done to deserve a daughter like this? Even the voluminous layers of material wrapped around her couldn't hide his daughter's state of extreme pregnancy and for a moment he forgot his circumstances. "How many is this?" he asked.
Miley-Ellyn looked confused momentarily, before cupping her burgeoning stomach with her hand and arm. "Oh this." Her brow furrowed. "This is hmmm... the seventh. Or maybe eighth. That's amazing, isn't it Dad? I brought all those small people into the world."
Hector felt the virtual veins in his head virtually throbbing, his temperature seeming to rise as though he'd explode any moment.
"From what the other women say, they think this one might even be free of venereal disease. There's a good chance that the Blessed Reverend Billy Paul may anoint me personally again soon. I just need to finish the course of antibiotics."
"Miley, something has gone wrong." Hector forced himself to be clear, knowing his time was running out. "I'm in Elyzium, but all my funds have been lost. I need you to contact my lawyer and get him on the case; they're trying to screw me over.
"Gee, I don't know Dad. I'd have to ask the Blessed Reverend Billy. And I don't know when I'll see him again."
A voice sounded and Miley looked around. "I have to go Dad. We're marching in support of the Workers Against Poverty. Gonna go right up to Tren-Hump Inc and blockade the entrance. Wow, I didn't know ghosts used phones like regular people, it's cool. Nice chatting, bye."
"You can't!" Hector snarled. This wasn't going how he'd expected. Didn't they understand how important he was? Without him they'd have had nothing. He still had some credit and thought a new number, though he had to admit it was a desperate choice. Kaydianne was decorative, but that was pretty much where her talents ended. He didn't expect an answer and was surprised when his wife picked up on the second ring.
"Hector? I didn't think... I mean this is like, totally unexpected." KayDianne was sitting on her bed wrapped in a pink fluffy towel. She'd redecorated; the bed and walls were pink too making her look like an adult living in a giant womb.
"Forget the small-talk, Babykins," Hector snapped. "I need you to contact Inge and tell him I've been screwed. He needs to go to LifePlus and force them to set up a call with me so we can talk properly."
KayDianne chewed on her lusciously enhanced lower lip. "Inge? Screw?"
Hector shook his head; KayDianne had met his lawyer dozens of times, but she wasn't the smartest. "My lawyer, you've met hi-"
"You want more already, you little fox?" A figure emerged from the bathroom wearing Hector's favorite GD robe, the dark blue material making the man's skin looking even pastier than Hector remembered it.
"Inge?" Hector couldn't find the words. "KayDianne?" As he sat there open mouthed, the last few hard-earned seconds of his credit ticked away.
***
Hector pushed his way through the small crowd clustered around the hunt office. Several people slapped his back and he heard several mumbled "well done's." Even as he'd w
alked across town he'd heard several whistles and a couple of calls of "Go Hector!" It seemed news of his victory had spread fast.
Hector had never experienced any kind of adulation in his life. Of course, there was the usual sycophantic "Yes, sir" attitude of his underlings, but that wasn't genuine admiration. The response he got now though made him feel strangely warm and he even waved half-heartedly to some of the people calling out.
"Where were ya yesterday?" the ChaseMaster scowled.
"I..." Hector hesitated. He didn't see how he'd lost a day but nothing was quite how he expected it to be and he didn't feel comfortable enough to discuss the inconsistencies. "Well, that is..."
"No worries, son. Had to celebrate ya victory dincha?" The ChaseMaster grinned. "O'course now you'll see some real action."
"What do you mean?"
"You won. No one done that before. Ya not supposed to, see? The idea is, ya supposed to fight like a dog all the way and lose. Now everyone will want a piece of ya."
"Okay... I'll beat them too." Hector hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. "Anything new?"
"Couple of deals. Nothing you'd be interested in. Listen, you've got talent. If we work together, we can both do bonzer."
Hector had a plan of his own, but needed to expand his skills and an alliance with the ChaseMaster would be a vital component. The ChaseMaster was looking to line his own pockets of course, but Hector had plenty of experience manipulating people like that. "That's a good idea, we can help each other. What's available now?"
The ChaseMaster lifted an eyebrow. "Well, I've got one group that wants a medieval gig. Knights in armor, horses and all that malarkey. Weapons restricted to strict period availability, so we're talking lances, mace, swords. Pretty messy, I'd say."
Hector silently agreed. "The other?"
"Giant WarBots. Fully armored buggers. Ten meters high and equipped with everything going: miniguns, rockets, energy beams and full detection gear."
"That would be difficult; they'd need to pay big to make it interesting. I'd also need plenty of flight and invisibility to have even half a chance."
"Oh you'd get it. They quoted one kiloduck, a big fat one thousand shamoliens. With unlimited flight and invisibility for the duration."
Hector smiled.
"Ya don't get it." The ChaseMaster jabbed the screen. "They're setting up a custom game world to the east—all different zones: industrial, forest, ice, desert and anything else they can think of."
"They sound serious."
"They're creating a circus. And you'd be the star attraction. Your downfall will be the biggest event that ever happened in Elyzium. From what I hear it's even hit prime-time back in the world."
"I fooled them before."
"There'll be a dead zone around the home plate—a kilometer wide—where none of your skills will work. No flight, no invisibility, nothing."
Hector pulled back. "That's impossible."
"That's what I said." The ChaseMaster put his arm round Hector's narrow shoulders. "The way I see it, forget about these suicide runs and concentrate on high quality customers, people willing to pay for exclusivity. You've got a following, make the most of it."
"Tell them two kiloducks and they've got a deal. Fifty percent up front." Hector ran to the Judgment center and completed his assignments in record time. A thousand or two would be enough to make him pretty comfortable. But would it be enough to fight for what he'd been crewed out of? Ducks were currency in Elyzium but he doubted they'd get him legal help to fight his wife and slimy lawyer. It was tempting to take the money, but Hector knew sometimes it paid to wait for the payoff. His own plan would give him all that and more, but first of all he needed to visit the PimpDaddy again. All you need, he thought, is the right leverage...
***
The trees vanished abruptly as a fifteen meter section of forest splintered under the impact of a megawatt force beam, like a giant hand had slapped down on a patch of straw. Hector's eardrums seemed to implode and when he rubbed them his hand came away covered in red gore.
Bouncing upwards like a human sized flea he hopped several kilometers from the impact zone, streams of electric blue and red force beams intersecting with his path but not with him. Snapping on his invisibility, Hector jerked right mid-jump, hoping to evade any predictive weapons. He'd been on the hunt over four hours and had made almost no progress towards the target zone.
Touching down in soft yellow sand, Hector paused, dragging breath into his lungs in aching gasps. The dunes stretched endlessly in all directions, offering little in the way of cover. On the other hand it also meant there was little chance of him being caught unawares; he'd have seen the dust from one of those behemoths literally kilometers away.
Hector sat down heavily, his breath escaping in a low "oooff." He hadn't meant to sit down and in fact didn't want to, but the sand churned like liquid, providing nothing solid to stand on.
A giant head emerged from the sand, gleaming metallically in the bright desert sunshine, followed by shoulders and powerful mechanized arms. Hector lurched upright and ran obliquely left, away from the distinctive wind-up sound of the Bot's miniguns.
Bullets ripped a jagged path towards him and fire erupted throughout his entire body as a round caught his shoulder, tearing open the flesh and throwing him violently to one side.
Hector screamed, activating his invisibility by instinct as he scrabbled away. The firing stopped abruptly as the head of the Bot scanned from side to side like a blind turtle seeking a scrap of food. Blood coursed down Hector's arm and, even though he saw nothing, he could feel the warm streams dripping from the fingertips of his now paralyzed hand.
Two other WarBots joined in the search as Hector dragged himself over the crest of the nearest sand dune with his good hand, knowing just how vulnerable he was. Flight would undoubtedly trigger their motion trackers so he rolled over the next few dunes, hoping his body heat would be masked by the reflected heat.
The first Bot stopped scanning, edging along the path Hector had followed just moments before. It stopped repeatedly as if weighing up the situation. He was no threat, so there was some other explanation for the cautious behavior. Another drip left his fingers and Hector flinched. Whatever the Bot was tracking, its operator was struggling to follow the trail.
He checked the ground and saw nothing, but the Bot wouldn't have the same limitations. Hector could use this against them. Rolling to the bottom of the next sand dune he launched himself into the air away from the Bots. He moved in a straight line for several seconds to give them ample time to track him, before altering his path and zigzagging back and forth through the contours of the dunes.
Trails of machine gun rounds and laser beams streamed after him, throwing up waves of stinging particles that whipped at his eyes and skin. He dropped behind a particularly large dune knowing it would provide the shield he needed for the next part of his plan.
Looping back, Hector prayed his misdirection had been unnoticed. No weapons fire came his way and he tumbled in free fall towards the closest Bot. When he was less than a meter from its head, he plunged his fingers into his shoulder. Suppressing a scream he threw the invisible gore over the mechanized head and shoulders, making sure to liberally cover the missile packs.
Two more hops and Hector had dowsed the others. Rising upwards he switched off his invisibility again and waited for the inevitable...
Less than thirty seconds passed before the air around him was sliced apart by a raft of deadly beams. Ozone burned unpleasantly in his nostrils and he backed away at maximum speed. He spotted at least three rockets being launched—it was time to make an exit.
Reactivating his invisibility Hector jerked at random, but each move pulled him further from the missiles' detection radius.
The missiles hesitated as they struggled to track him. Hector smiled as they charged off in different directions. In the distance energy beam discharges flickered, but none came towards him and he was sure there was at least
one large explosion.
***
The Palace was as deserted as ever, but this time held no fear as Hector slipped past the receptionist unseen. As before, the waiting room was empty and the door beckoned like a prize.
Hector was about to grab the handle but hesitated. The door had been locked before but even if it opened, it would have alarms and detectors to alert anyone inside. He wanted any meeting to be on his terms.
Hector retraced his steps and floated upwards, dropping onto a luxurious balcony seconds later. Wide French doors led inside and Hector strode through them. The VP sat behind a large mahogany desk surrounded by displays that filled the area with an ever changing cascade of light. The soft swell of cellos filled the air like a gentle stream.
Hector restored his visibility, his body flickering as it reshaped itself. He looked down at the skin-tight dress and quivering large breasts hanging from his chest. The PimpDaddy had supplied just what he'd asked for—the right leverage, and sex always sells. Grabbing a large wine decanter, he stepped closer. "A drink, your worthiness?"
"Take a seat Tren-Hump, I'll be with you shortly." The VP glanced up. "And switch off that silly disguise please; the flickering is almost as annoying as you are."
Hector tried to project an air of confidence despite his shock. His appearance changed as he switched off the body he'd rented from the PimpDaddy and his breasts plopped onto the floor before evaporating in a twinkle of fairy dust. He looked around. With his experience of corporate excess he knew the room was more than just opulent.
Finally the VP looked up. "Drink? Glen Gilcullen isn't it?"
A glass appeared in Hector's hand.
"Don't be surprised. I've spent a lot of time studying your file. Far more than I should have in fact. I'm Granger by the way."
Hector lifted the glass and sipped the golden liquid, relishing the smooth warmth of the peaty alcohol as it teased his taste buds. Then the glass, contents and sensory input vanished.
Dead Reckoning and Other Stories Page 4
