Hell's Reach (Galactic Liberation Series Book 6)
Page 5
“Goddamned rats,” Chiara said. “Pickpocket you bare if you let them. Funny how sentients breed true to type, no matter what people say.” She wiped off her blade and slid it back into its sheath with a snick.
Loco holstered his sidearm and the meandering crowd returned to normal, but he resolved to pay more attention to his surroundings and less to the merchandise from now on.
“Lady, gentleman, please, would you like to come in for a private, air-cooled showing? My Concubines are the finest in the sector. Well trained, bonded and certified,” a saurian said from the opening in a nearby tent, wringing its scaly hands.
“Thanks, maybe later,” Chiara replied.
Loco caught a chilling flash of pure hatred crossing Chiara’s face, something he’d never seen before.
She nudged him onward down the wide row.
The next segment gave a similar impression, though the creatures in the lineup were aquatic, behind a transparent slab that provided a view into a giant water-tank. Still, they seemed to be presenting themselves suggestively, seductively, even for the dry-landers who looked on along with the free amphibious and aquatic customers.
Loco saw salamanders, octopoids not unlike Ruxins, tool-using fish in mobile tanks on multiple wheels, even something that looked like a giant anemone under an inverted dome of glass mounted on a multi-legged vehicle. He’d never seen so many aliens in one place. He felt overwhelmed, and concentrated on keeping calm and looking for threats.
Ten or twelve similar booths later, after passing by hundreds of different alien species, he started to get used to it, ignoring the strangeness that he couldn’t encompass. At the end of the row Chiara turned right and proceeded down the cross-path, cutting across at least twenty similar rows. He tried to calculate how many individual merchants’ displays he’d already seen and came up with over four hundred vendors…and he didn’t think he’d seen even a hundredth part of the Rainbow Market. It must cover many square kilometers.
“The Yellow Foot specializes in Personal Services Contractors. That’s what I’m looking for,” Chiara said. “Other crimorgs handle the industrials, the mercs, the mentals... ”
“Why do people deal with crimorgs instead of, I don’t know, licensed employment services?” Loco asked.
“Why do people get their drugs from dealers instead of dispensaries, or go to loan sharks instead of banks? For some reason, they can’t get what they want within the letter of the law, so they go outside it. If there was no demand for the service, it wouldn’t be there.”
Here and there permanent buildings rose, heavily guarded by troops of creatures in liveries of various colors. Chiara gave him a running commentary as they walked. “Purple Hand Mob…. Red Leg Battery…. Blue Claw Pack…. Here we are. Yellow Foot Mob.”
The guards here were all Mellivor, upright man-sized ferret-badgers with striped fur. They were lightly armored and heavily armed, with bright red eyes and short, twitchy whiskers. All had at least one yellow foot—a boot, a shoe, or sometimes a dye job on their naked limb.
“Stop,” one said as Chiara walked straight up to the building’s main entrance. “State your business.”
“Yellow Foot business,” she said, pulling up one pants-leg to reveal a yellow sock. She produced a metal disc with her fingers as if out of thin air and handed it to the guard. He—or she, there was no way to know—passed it leftward to another, who ran the disk through a small machine, and then said something in a hissing tongue.
“You may enter.” The disc was returned.
Inside, she divested herself of her firearms, placing them in a locker, but not her blades. Loco followed suit. They were escorted through the interior of the building.
“Let me handle the talking, and back me up no matter what I say or do, capisce? No matter what, or how bizarre it is,” Chiara said.
“Sure, no problem.”
Her voice grew harder. “I’m dead serious here, Loco. No matter what happens, you back me up—and you don’t freak out at what you see, even if it gets ugly. We’re not here to rock the boat or play the hero. But be ready for violence.”
“Yes, boss lady.” He made a whip-cracking gesture and winked.
Her stern expression broke into a grin and she licked her lips. “That’s entirely another scenario.”
The guards escorted them into a lavishly decorated chamber, its yellow and gold hangings with just enough other colors to provide contrast and highlights. They withdrew to the two corners behind the humans, and as they did, a door opposite opened and a matched pair of young, blonde, fit humans, a man and a woman, came in, both naked to the waist, oiled and shaved, except for the woman’s neck-length hair. They knelt sideways in front of Chiara and Loco, the man farther away, and then they placed their palms on the floor, as if ready to play horse with children. They didn’t make eye contact.
Loco observed, puzzled.
While they did this, Chiara took out an auto-injector and stabbed its needle into her left hand, and then put it away.
Before Loco could ask, the door opened again and a monster entered the room.
A Korven. He’d seen enough dead ones to know.
Chiara growled as Loco bristled. He forcibly stilled himself from reaching for a weapon, remembering her repeated insistence he play it cool.
The Korven was small for his race, perhaps two meters tall and one hundred twenty kilos, with smooth skin like fine greenish-gray leather. His face—for he was certainly male—was full of fangs, and where hair on a human would be his head was covered with brutal flat spines like shark’s teeth. Similar spines defended his knuckles, elbows and knees, which were bare. He wore a cuirass—a sleeveless vest of black armor—and a fan of the same material formed an articulated kilt around a massive protruding codpiece. He carried two long knives in sheaths crossed over his sternum.
Wouldn’t want to meet this guy in a dark alley, Loco thought as he remained balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to act.
Chiara threw her shoulders back and put her hands on her cocked hips. “Pillage and death to you, Lutan Krahn.”
The Korven’s voice was surprisingly melodious and cultured, and his Earthan was excellent. “Pillage and death to you as well, Jilani Captain. One thing I always admire about you is your courtesy. Shall I sit?”
“You shall do as you will in your own domain, as is right and just.”
“So I shall. And you shall remain standing and bow.”
“Bow, lower than I do,” Chiara hissed out of the corner of her mouth and then bowed at the waist, about halfway to the horizontal.
Loco bowed lower, feeling foolish.
Lutan Krahn sat on the man’s back, and lifted one boot to place it on the woman’s shoulders. A spur on the boot cut her smooth skin, but she bore it stoically. The blood seeped and dripped on the floor, unremarked. “Your servant is unschooled, but I will forgive him for your sake.”
“He is not my servant. He’s my lover, a free man and a peer—and more dangerous than his pretty face would imply. I vouch for him.”
“You wish him to become Yellow Foot?”
“No, a Recognized Neutral only. And, I must also regretfully reduce my status to that of Distant Associate, under the Codes, in order to gain greater freedom to act.”
“That is your right. We will honor the Codes. There is much affection for you here.”
“I thank the noble Krahn for his accurate acknowledgement.”
The Krahn waved a diffident hand. “Yet you failed in your last commission.”
“I did not succeed, but it was not a disaster. I will accept judgment.”
The Korven showed surprise. “Even as a Distant Associate?”
“I don’t wish it to be said that I reduced myself to Distant Associate to avoid punishment.”
“You are noble, for a human.” He smiled a toothy smile.
Chiara showed her own teeth. “Would a Korven do any less?”
His reply seemed heartfelt, even affectionate. “How I wish I
could implant you.”
Loco froze instead of reaching for a blade, reminding himself that these were only words, words from a bizarre creature in an utterly unfamiliar culture.
Chiara laughed delightedly. “How I wish I could cut off your member and feed it to you, so you bleed to death begging for my death-stroke.”
Lutan inclined his head. “As you are so polite, I will be merciful in my judgment. I fine you five thousand credits and the loss of a fingertip of your choice. You are hereby reduced to Distant Associate at your request, with no prejudice and in good standing. Do you accept my judgment?”
“Gladly.” She reached into a pouch and pulled out a packet, tossing it to the Korven. “Pure Erbaccia molecular extract. Worth ten kay at least.”
He caught and opened it, sniffing the contents deeply. “Your fine is paid.”
Chiara picked up a fine yellow decorative cloth from a small table and wrapped it tightly around her left middle finger, holding it up toward Lutan Krahn as if insulting him with the rude gesture. She then drew her sharpest blade and sliced it off at the first joint, catching it deftly with the knife-hand. She tossed the fingertip directly at the Korven.
He caught it and popped it into his mouth like a snack, chewing and swallowing it with obvious relish. “Nicely done,” he said. “You remain my favorite living human.”
“And you’re the only Korven I might regret killing.”
“I will tolerate that insult…this time.” Loco thought that if Lutan were human, he would have winked.
“Your tolerance is legendary.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Lutan turned his face to Loco for the first time. “So this is your lover. I should kill him for his effrontery.”
Loco, having caught the spirit of the interplay, spoke up. “You’re welcome to try, Lutan Krahn. I am Paloco General. Pillage and death to you.”
“Pillage and death to you, Paloco General. What is it you wish from the Yellow Foot?”
Interesting, thought Loco, that Lutan would ask him instead of Chiara. “Information, great Krahn, for which I’m willing to pay a fair price. You know of Straker’s Breakers?”
“I know of your mercenary organization. I know you are a high officer. You would not be Jilani Captain’s lover if you were not a man of virility and ferocity, despite your tiny implantation member.”
“You’re correct about the first part….” Loco paused. “Recently, a trading ship of ours, the Hercules, was taken by a force of three Arattak ships—and one Korven. The Korven ship appears to be official and military, not rogue or…”
“Or from the now-defunct Korveni crimorg. It is because of your Breakers’ ruthless destruction of the Korveni that I give you respect—that and my affection for Chiara-chama.”
“As you should. We figure some of the crew of the Hercules will be forced to sign contracts against their will, and we’re hoping you can use your sources to locate some of them—or at least keep your eyes open for them if they show up here.”
“I will do better than that, Paloco. I will endeavor to obtain any of your people I locate, if you will pledge to purchase their Contracts from me at fair market prices.”
Loco considered. The Breakers had a no-ransom policy, but this gave him some wiggle room. He noticed that Lutan didn’t say he would buy any Breakers he located, only “obtain.” Buying Breakers from a rescuer technically didn’t violate the policy. Besides, these were Breakers, and Breakers took care of their own.
“I thank you for your generous offer, and pledge the Breakers to pay you fair compensation for your expenditures rescuing any Breakers or Breaker, ah, associates, as well as their Contracts. Furthermore, the Breakers will offer fair market value for recovered equipment and goods, if you choose to sell them back to us.”
“Agreed.” Lutan put his feet on the floor, slashing the woman under his feet with his spurs yet again. His clawed hand clutched the shoulder of his male stool-human as he stood, drawing even more blood, which he idly licked off his claws with a black, oily tongue. He turned to go, still with a finger in his mouth as a man might pick at something stuck in his teeth, before suddenly pausing to look over his shoulder. “One more thing—I almost forgot.”
“Here it comes,” Chiara breathed, barely audible. “Whatever you do, don’t kill him. And don’t let him kill you.” She swallowed.
Loco’s senses heightened as he put himself into a Kung Jiu combat state.
“I cannot do business with an Unproven,” Lutan said.
“I understand,” Loco said.
“Good. Humans are notorious for misunderstanding.”
As he finished his sentence, Lutan turned and drove a kick through the man-Contractor on the floor, which lifted him and sent him flying at Loco. Loco ducked, and then Lutan was on him.
Chapter 5
Bridge of the Redwolf, Humbar system.
Zaxby’s idea to attack the enemies of the Humbar was completely crazy and utterly dangerous, Straker thought as the octopoid explained the possibilities from his spinning, Ruxin-configured stool on the Redwolf’s elegant bridge. Most of the time Zaxby’s fears were overblown, but in this case, he might be right. The idea of a reverse Pascal’s wager—big bet, small payoff—loomed large in his mind.
“There’s got to be a way to improve the odds,” Straker said. His gaze roved from face to face—Zaxby, Mara, Steiner.
Mara threw up her hands. “Maybe not, Derek. There isn’t always a way to do everything. Some things are simply impossible.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“And that attitude has done amazing things—but sometimes stuff just can’t get done—at least, not in the time we have.”
Straker paced. “Let’s go over the plan one more time. Maybe we can fix it.”
“It’s not a plan, Derek. It’s nothing but a wild idea.”
“Go over it again anyway. Zaxby?”
Zaxby brought up graphics. “The wild idea-plan is simplicity itself. We enter underspace and use the gravity blocker to penetrate the enemy’s shield.”
“And then we blow them up with antimatter,” Straker finished for him.
“Along with ourselves,” Zaxby added. “Given the slow shield pass-through, we can’t overrun the congruency point at a speed high enough to avoid catastrophic bleed-over.”
“Then we use a nuke.”
“Same problem.”
“With a delay, then,” Straker insisted.
“The nuke has to be laid in the small empty space between the enemy shield and hull, as it won’t detonate if it emerges within solid matter. If we are even able to do it—an unlikely proposition—enemy point defenses are likely to destroy it immediately.”
“Likely, but not certain.”
Zaxby held up a single subtentacle to emphasize his point. “We only have one nuclear weapon.”
Straker put his fists to his temples. “We have to try!” Once more he suppressed his rage and fear at Carla’s capture, forcing himself to concentrate on the problem at hand. One thing at a time. Save the Humbar, which should lead to capturing some enemy to question, which should lead to the Hercules and the lost Breakers...
“Why can’t we use the grav-beam instead of dropping a bomb?” Steiner asked. “Zap their fusion bottle, like with the flagship.”
“Grav-blocker will block our own beam,” Mara replied.
“Grav-blocker gets us through the shield, but we can turn it off once we’re inside, right? Then back on to get out?”
Mara stared for a moment at Steiner, and then turned to Straker. “That might do it. Lots of variables, precise timing—but at least if it doesn’t work, we don’t blow ourselves up.”
Straker made a sound of frustration, rolling his shoulders and swinging his arms as he paced. “There has to be something better. We need a fresh idea. Zaxby, list the tech we have on board.”
“Very well. Fusion drive. Impellers. Laser—”
“The alien tech, the weird stuff, the bleeding edge.”
“What? Tractor and pressor?”
“Very weak beams to push and pull objects—variations on the grav-beam, which is misnamed, since what we’ve been calling the grav-beam is actually a weapon that twists and shakes rather than merely pulls—”
“Okay, so we can push and pull stuff a little.”
Zaxby sighed. “Yes, as I said, very weak. Nothing that can be weaponized. Shall I continue?”
“By all means.”
“Expanding energy shell.” Zaxby paused, as if fully expecting Straker to stop him. “Like the salamanders have.”
“Too weak?”
“It’s strong enough to detonate incoming missiles and do minor damage, but again, the issue isn’t the weapons tech itself—it’s the size and power generating capacity of this corvette-sized ship, which is insignificant when compared to the frigates and cruisers we face. We are a piranha—but we are faced with sharks.”
Straker rubbed his neck. “Go on. Brainstorm, everyone. Think of something, some combination—like you did, Steiner. That was good.”
Steiner nodded and furrowed his brows.
Zaxby waited a moment, then continued. “Shieldbuster.”
“What?” Straker glared at Zaxby. “We have a shieldbuster?”
“A tiny, experimental one,” Zaxby replied patiently. “Not enough power to take down the shield on anything bigger than an attack craft. We simply cannot rely on raw power to accomplish anything, with the exception of our single nuke and our single antimatter float mine. As we did against their flagship, we must use guile and trickery.”
“Guile and trickery... ” Straker mumbled. “What else?”
“We have a piece of self-organizing subquantum J-tech.”