“Excuse me, Lieutenant, but you aren’t part of our chain of command,” the forensics officer said, eyeing him coldly.
“My rank is on par with the Inspector’s!” he spat vehemently.
“I wasn’t aware of that,” said the senior forensics officer, not even giving Kyte another look.
“C’mon, Lieutenant, give him a break. We have a new clue to work with now,” said Entryua, brandishing the resin sample.
“That’s true, but...” Kyte cast his eyes down begrudgingly. Indignation hadn’t vacated those eyes quite yet.
Maybe I pushed his buttons a tiny bit too much, Entryua reflected. Then the transceiver ringed.
Entryua picked it up cheerfully. It was, of course, Commissioner Aizan on the line. Unfortunately, what Aizan had to say dashed his hopes.
Talks with the force at Guzonh had ended in failure. They freely gave them permission to step on their jurisdiction. So freely, they would have given it to them wrapped in a pretty bow if they could, if Aizan’s words were to be believed. They said they couldn’t spare any manpower, but they’d give them whatever information they wanted without delay.
Entryua could only gripe inwardly over how much cleverer this city’s commissioner was than Aizan.
“So, don’t worry about the rest, and just push forward with your mission, Entryua,” said Aizan, blithely.
Entryua growled and hung up. “We’re continuing the investigation ourselves,” he told Kyte, imparting the bad news succinctly.
“I see,” he replied, with an expressionlessness that exhibited surprising restraint. “I think I’ll call for reinforcements.”
“You’d better not mean reinforcements from the Police Office,” he said, making his unhappiness abundantly clear. Entryua had no doubt Aizan would peel every last person down to the accountant from their desks and push them into the fray if Kyte requested it.
“No,” he said flatly. “From my unit. I’ll ask my superiors to send me some of their subordinates.”
He knew what Kyte was really after with that call. ‘Solving a shortfall in manpower?’ A likely story. He just wanted allies around.
It was understandable, considering that moments prior, Entryua had similarly intimidated him with numbers. And he had no intention of calling foul; Kyte wouldn’t listen, anyway.
“Yeah? Here I’m wondering if any number of boots on the ground is enough,” he said, without objecting outright.
I’ve got a proposition for him — what say we split into two teams? That way, we can both do our thing the way we like.
“Yes, I’ve decided.” Kyte nodded and brought the transceiver on his wrist to his mouth.
Entryua had no idea what he was saying into that thing, but whatever it was, it sounded real stiff and formal. It was only through Kyte’s visible dejection that he gleaned the outcome of their negotiations.
For the first time, Entryua empathized with him. “Why’s everybody gotta be so down on their luck around here? If you ask me, somebody somewhere’s hoarding all the good luck.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Kyte muttered, probably without thinking. “Never mind that; what we do now?”
“With only this many officers, all we can do is plod away step by step.”
“What do you mean, specifically?”
“Combing every single building would be a giant waste of time. There’s no other way: First we search inns and hotels, then expand from there.”
“This is going to take quite some time, isn’t it?”
“I bet it will. Let’s just pray those two were dumb enough to hole up in an inn. I don’t think there’ll be too many people taking a leisurely vacation during such a state of crisis.”
Chapter 14: The Slacélach (Warriors)
It happened when Jinto was enduring more holovision to polish his Clasbulian — sudden noises from behind.
Startled, Jinto turned his head, only to find four men storming inside. He jumped to his feet.
“Resistance is futile!” shouted the one short one at the head of the pack.
Each of the men had their paralyzer guns aimed square at Jinto. The slightest funny move, and they’d make him stiffer than a petrified log.
“Wh-Who are you people!?” Jinto shouted back.
“Can’t you tell we’re police officers?” replied the short one, clearly offended.
“P-Police...” So they’ve finally come knocking. Jinto’s palms grew sweaty.
The men all wore matching uniforms of green on yellow, which hardly screamed “police” to him; Jinto’s image of officer uniforms was more unaffected, but here in Clasbule, the land of garish taste, he supposed they were relatively sober in color.
“Now where’s your little friend? The Abh girl?” said shorty.
“Abh girl? Maybe you’ve got the wrong room?”
Lafier had retired to the bedroom. Jinto clung desperately to the faint hope that he could, maybe, conceivably talk his way out of this.
“She must be asleep already,” he said, seeing right through him. “What are you doing awake, anyway? You got a screw loose? Don’t you know it’s bedtime? You’re really screwing up our plan.”
Should I, uh, apologize or something? thought Jinto.
“You.” Shorty looked over his shoulder at one of his men. He was a big, sturdy, black-skinned man. “Go take a look.”
The big lug nodded and headed for the bedroom door.
Another of the men, a lean, fully-shaven officer who resembled a crane on a weight loss program, accompanied him.
“No!” The threat of the paralyzers evaded his mind as he leapt at the big one. Annoyed, Big Lug knocked him back onto the ground with a swing of his arms. He tried to get back up, but froze when he saw the muzzle in front of his face.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.” Shorty thrust the paralyzer right between his eyes. “But the next time you move, I won’t be so lenient.”
“Did you come to arrest us?”
“That’s what they want.”
“What they want?”
“Zip it. You’ll hear all about it later.” Shorty shot a glance at Big Lug. “Hey...”
Jinto took full advantage of that moment’s inattention, and grabbed his arm. They tussled and locked bodies, and even as they rolled across the floor, Jinto kept Shorty’s arm pinned, twisting his wrist with a jerk.
“Ow!” Shorty dropped his paralyzer.
Jinto reached to grab it, but at that moment, two of the others fell on top of him, the officer who’d followed Big Lug, and the fourth, a young man with close-cropped hair dyed yellow.
“Goddammit.” Jinto was pinned face-down.
Slim was sitting astride Jinto’s waist like a horseman, while Youngin was leaning forward against Jinto’s back and twisting his arms.
“Keep him there!” Shorty squeaked, as he retrieved his gun.
“What if we gave him a shock to the system?” proposed Youngin.
Shorty shook his head. “Do you feel like lugging him places? No, no, we’ll have him walk on his own two feet when and where we can.”
“But Undertaker...”
“You idiot! We’re police, remember!? Call me ‘Sergeant’!”
“Yes, Sergeant, sir.”
A strange exchange any way Jinto sliced it. Were they really officers? If not, then who were they? They couldn’t be enemy soldiers—
But Jinto’s train of thought crashed to a halt when he felt something mean and hard press against the back of his head. It was Shorty with his gun.
“Thick as thieves, ain’t you? Just so you understand, I’d like you to walk on your damned legs, but I’m willing to carry your ass if I have to. You ever been shot by a paralyzer? Cuz let me tell you, you won’t be blacking out with a smile on your face. Every muscle in your body’s gonna scream.”
“Are you thugs really coppers?” asked Jinto.
Slim whistled. “I like kids like him. Asking questions when he’s this buried. Or maybe he’s just too dumb to understa
nd his position here. Color me right fascinated.”
“Yeah huh, whatever floats your boat,” said Shorty. Then he ordered Big Lug again: “What’re you doing, Daswani? Hurry up.”
The big one, apparently named Daswani, nodded without a word, and opened the bedroom door.
He took a step into the room, and then froze. Then he shook his head, No, and started stepping back.
At first, Jinto was totally lost. Then he saw Lafier in front of Daswani, and the situation turned clear as day.
Lafier was wearing the inn’s provided, white jumpsuit-type sleepwear. Her froch glinted inorganically, peeking out from her sleep-tousled bangs. Her eyes, their corners higher than most, were narrowed coldly, and she had a phaser gripped in hand.
A phaser was always an ill-omened, sinister sight. The guns packed the power to tear a human body to shreds with ease. Compared to lasers, paralyzer guns were a mere toy in both appearance and destructive capability.
“It’s the Abh...” muttered Youngin disgustedly. “There really was one!”
Daswani found himself against the wall.
No one moved a muscle.
The first to break the silence was Shorty. Unexpectedly, though his brogue didn’t evaporate, he spoke in error-free Baronh.
“Drop the weapon, Abh. Don’t you care what happens to the boy? Even a paralyzer can kill at point-blank range.”
“If he should die, so too do you all,” said Lafier, her brow furrowed, and her voice firm. “I shall not allow a single one of you to leave this room alive. And to warn you, I am in a supremely bad mood.”
“I know I would be,” muttered Slim. “In fact, anyone would be, getting pulled from their sleep like that. Today I learned that the Abh are no exception.” His insightful discovery went ignored by the rest.
“There are four of us, and one of you. How could we lose?” replied Shorty.
She turned her nose up. “Care to try it?”
Youngin grunted and tried pointing his paralyzer her way.
Lafier was faster. She pursed her lips and whistled as she pulled the trigger. The beam of heat that fired from the phaser‘s muzzle hit his paralyzer dead-on.
“Yeowch!” Youngin dropped it; it had turned terribly hot terribly quickly.
Big Lug attempted to use that opening to brandish his own gun, but once again the phaser pierced through the paralyzer.
Big Lug endured the heat and pulled the trigger, but the paralyzer had already been rendered inoperative. On both sides of his dumbfounded head, smoldering holes had been charred into the wall. Upon noticing, he sank down to the floor.
“Don’t shoot! I surrender!” said Slim, sticking up his arms as he threw away his paralyzer.
“As you can see, I have received marksmanship training,” she replied calmly. “I have a great many skills I’m proud of, and my sharpshooting is one of them. Yet at present, I am drowsy, and my reflexes slow. As such, you mustn’t count on my accuracy for my next shots.”
Again, a silence as thick as marble gripped the room.
Shorty was frozen, and dripping with a cold sweat.
Though Jinto’s limbs weren’t being pinned anymore, the other two were still sitting on top of him, so he still couldn’t extricate himself. Moreover, there was still the gun pressed against his head.
Jinto thought of a small bit of advice: “Uh, guys? I think you ought to reassess the situation.”
Shorty shot him a dirty look. Then his line of sight moved to the paralyzer, followed by a glance at Lafier’s phaser. Finally, he stared into the distance, his expression that of a man reminiscing about his blissful youth.
Jinto gulped, eyeing the man warily all the while.
When Shorty made up his mind, he acted swiftly. The paralyzer vanished from his hand like a mirage, while the two men atop him finally released Jinto from his status as a rug.
Jinto tumbled back to his feet and strode to Lafier’s side. “Excellent, you reassessed,” said Jinto from the heart.
“Reassess? Whatever do you mean?” said Shorty, pulling an expression that screamed ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about but I’d sure love to find out before I snuff it.’
“I’m just glad we could come to an understanding,” Jinto said, the forked tongue out at last.
“Absolutely! Cross-cultural understanding is always worthwhile! Welcome to the planet of Clasbule!” said Shorty, his hands sticking up wide.
The wind blew across the room, turning the air dour once again, the atmosphere, stifling.
“Maybe I spoke too soon. Looks like we haven’t come to an understanding after all,” Jinto murmurred.
“Jinto, let’s pull out. I’ll keep my eyes on them, so go gather our things.”
“Yeah, guess that’s the thing to do.” Jinto shook his head and entered the bedroom.
It didn’t take him long to pack their bags; all of their clothing was stored in the duffel bag so that they could leave at a moment’s notice. He returned to the scene with a phaser in his right hand and the duffel bag over his left shoulder.
“Shall we bounce?” he asked Lafier.
“Yep.” She turned to address the others. “All of you, go to the bedroom.”
“Wait,” said Shorty. “We’re your allies.”
“Well that was a funny way to show it,” said Jinto.
“Don’t you want to know who we are?”
“Nope,” said Jinto coldly.
“So young, but no curiosity. Curiosity’s the wellspring of betterment, you know,” said Shorty.
“I really don’t care if you’re ‘undertakers’ or a goddamned bird lovers’ association,” he spat. The wrists they’d twisted were still throbbing, so he couldn’t say he felt any affection for them.
“The only Undertaker’s right here,” said Shorty, pointing to himself.
“That right? You must love your job. Do you manufacture corpses?”
“Enough. You will hasten to the bedroom, or else,” Lafier urged.
“Dammit.” The men shuffled into the bedroom at gunpoint.
That was when another door, the door to the hallway, opened for all to hear.
Fresh troops!? The tension high, Jinto got his gun at the ready.
“If only you lot weren’t such serial bunglers.”
Jinto was startled; it was the housekeeping lady. “You’re with them?”
“I’m their leader,” she said, her Baronh more fluent even than Jinto’s. “I don’t have a weapon, don’t you worry.”
“Then you’re not an employee.”
“I am not, no.”
“And that bit about the sheef, you made that up?”
“Oh no, deary, that’s all true. You two are very unpopular among the actual employees.”
Jinto winced, but he was quick to pull himself together. “You must’ve come in search of us, huh?”
“Yes,” she said. Then she smiled at Lafier: “Little Abh lady, you have some blue showing in the whorl of your hair. If you’re going to dye your hair, you need to do it diligently and regularly.”
“I thank you for your advice,” she said mirthlessly. “Now join them in the bedroom.”
“Wait! Hear us out first. If we cooperate, we’ll both be better off for it.”
“What do we do, Jinto?” Lafier’s expression was as severe as ever, but a little confusion had crept in.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt to listen to what they’ve got to say.”
“A wise decision,” said the false housekeeper.
“Before anything else, I shall have you stand together in a line.” Lafier indicated the window with her gun.
“Always shrewd, I see.” Suitably impressed, she did as ordered.
“Anybody else reminded of an execution by firing squad?” mumbled Shorty.
“It’s okay, Undertaker,” said Slim. “If that’s what she wanted, she’d have already sliced a clean cross-section of our necks.”
“You’re not wrong, but I’ve always had to wonder, why does perf
ectly valid reasoning piss me off so much?”
The five of them lined up by the window. Now all of them could be monitored.
“First things first, allow us to introduce ourselves. You can call me me ‘Marca.’”
“And you can call me ‘Undertaker.’ Course, that’s not my real name, but it’s what my comrades call me,” said Shorty.
“My name’s Min. My parents named me something else, but I never took to it, so I hope you’ll call me ‘Min,’” said Slim. Jinto noticed then that he had a moustache, colored red on the left and yellow on the right.
“I’m Bill. Ask anybody in town about ‘Speedwheels Bill,’ they’ll have heard of me,” said Youngin.
“Daswani,” grumbled Big Lug.
On that note, the five of them grew silent.
When Jinto cottoned on to what they were waiting for, he shrugged. “Really sorry, guys, but I’m not in the mood to introduce myself.”
“That’s fine,” said Marca, not looking disappointed for it. “If I recall, you were on the inn’s register as ‘Sye Lina’ and ‘Sye Jinto.’”
“Ah, right.”
“So we’ll just call you that. In your case, ‘Jinto’ does seem to be your actual name.”
Clearly, Marca had sharp ears. She’d picked up on it when Lafier had addressed Jinto by name.
“‘Lina’ isn’t an Abh name, though,” said Min with a suspicious expression.
“If you want her real name, we’re not telling,” he said flatly.
“Not even her given name? She must be of quite the high rank. High-ranking enough for people to know her name. Is it safe to assume you’re connected to the Estate of the Marquis of Sfagnoff?”
“You can pry all you like, but we won’t be obliging you. We don’t even know who you are.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” said Marca. “We are members of the Clasbule Anti-imperial Front.”
“‘Anti-imperial’? Is that code for ‘anti-Abh’?”
“We don’t dislike Abhs, Jinto. We simply seek independence. We don’t recognize the right of the Empire to station a lord here, or deny us the right to trade and explore with our own spaceships.”
“But the Empire would never let you do that.”
“Exactly. That’s why we’re forced to fight.”
A War Most Modest (JNC Edition) Page 20
