by Blaze Ward
She returned to the front with the book and set it on the counter, next to the first book and a map. That set off a whole other round of dickering and haranguing.
About the time she was going to go look for some hot coffee to tide her over, the two duelers came to an agreement. Hands were shook. The old man even smiled.
“Six hundred, thirty-eight Union Krodageni, plus you come back with the story, when you find whatever it is you seeking, young man,” the proprietor beamed. “I have not had so much fun selling a book in more than a decade.”
“If we can,” Captain more or less shaded the promise as she listened. Lord only knew what would happen out there. “If we can.”
“Indeed,” the old man nodded. “Seek out Basuk for armaments. He is cousin and I send good word, although he will not believe me that you know how to properly negotiate, so I suggest you pee ahead of time and prepare for a long fight.”
The smile on the man’s face was almost as good as Bayjy’d had all day, so they shared it as Valentinian counted out bills and the old man sold them a cloth bag like her messenger to carry things in. Cute and semi-antique, too, with brass fittings and reinforced corners. Probably rain-proof, but they’d have to keep it and find a planet where water fell out of the sky to check. Scorpion-proof, maybe?
Still, a good deal done, from the smiles everyone shared.
They emerged from the shop and Bayjy noted the sun was just about to the horizon in the west.
“Now what?” she aked.
“Home,” Captain said.
She took the lead, just because it was starting to cool off and the walk would keep her warm. Valentinian was behind her, with Dave in the rear. The way was rough, climbing some hills and through a few wadis to get to where Kyrie and the ship had been left.
They were about halfway there when a man stepped out from behind a small cliff with a pistol in one hand and smiled at them.
7
Kyriaki
After so long with the four of them aboard the ship, Kyriaki was happy to have the place to herself for a while. She’d never really been a people person, Bayjy notwithstanding, and the thought of spending an afternoon in a mob sounded about as exciting as shaving her legs with a table saw.
At least Valentinian had relaxed some around her. There were still sparks, occasionally, but they were mostly the hungry-for-touch kind and not the punch-you-in-the-face sort. And he had finally let her into the armory room.
Dominion Prime, the Dominator’s Winter Palace orbiting Cronus Prime, might have more guns than Longshot Hypothesis, but it would be a close go. She hadn’t asked why the man kept enough firepower to start a small war. Kyriaki wasn’t a cop anymore.
Probably never be a cop again, unless they really did somehow end up on the far side of Wildspace with new identities. She could see getting herself a gig like that Sheriff had, back at Bohrne, when she reached that age. That was the sort of thing that suited her temperament.
After that, there was really nothing to do. Daily chores and maintenance never slacked, but nowadays that just meant that everyone pitched in and it took about an hour to complete. She wasn’t much of a reader, either, in spite of the amazingly diverse library Valentinian had collected in the ship’s data core.
In the end, she decided she did want some sun. Not much. Just enough to maybe have some tan that was natural, and not a result of standing in the booth in the bathroom for your regular dose of Vitamin D.
She was alone. Longshot Hypothesis was locked up tight and sitting atop a small plateau north of the city a couple of kilometers away, so she could look down and see it. Valentinian had turned on both sets of alarms, so she felt safe enough.
Kyriaki found herself up on the top of the ship, through the dorsal hatch, between the engines and almost directly over the bridge. One quick look around confirmed that nobody was above her, unless they were flying, and she’d hear them, so she dropped back down into the cooler air and packed.
Big bottle of water. Suntan lotion. Some dried meat and fruit. Small pistol. Big, freaking rifle. Long robes. Towel.
Back up in the sun, she spread the towel on the deck, lotioned herself up, and stretched out naked to get some tan. She had no lines now, so she’d just end up more tan, if anybody noticed, which she doubted.
Turning over after a while, she could see the city below, peeking over the hull like a chipmunk.
The men she saw approaching probably thought they were being sneaky. They were, if you were looking out from the bridge window, nearly down at ground level, rather than her perch clear up in the sky.
Six of them. Armed, like everyone on this planet, although maybe a little heavier, since two of them had weapons larger than pistols on shoulder straps. They didn’t do a half-bad job of setting up an ambush, either, and she was an expert on that topic.
For a moment, she wondered what the laws would say if she just opened fire on them from up here when the time came. Valentinian had suggested that there was no planetary government at all, and barely even regional authority. This could be one of those places where might actually made right.
There was even the perfect hunting rifle resting next to her on the upper hull. Long-barreled slugthrower firing caseless ammunition, it was designed to bring down massive predators at long range. She suspected that it would also do a nasty number on a lightly-armored police flyer on most planets.
Valentinian wasn’t the sort to collect trophy heads of critters in a den while smoking a pipe.
Tempting. Two moons would be overhead tonight, so she would have enough light. And there was most certainly a nightscope in there somewhere that she could attach, if she wanted to.
Watching them, all six took up positions on the trail to catch Valentinian and the others by surprise. The trail kinked in such a way that you’d be right in the ambush before anybody moved.
Kyriaki saw red. She couldn’t place her finger on what it was, but the rage swelling out of her belly was nasty.
She slid back carefully out of sight and grabbed all her gear, not bothering to put the robe on, but merely carrying it with the rest. Down the hatch and into the kitchen, she left most of her gear there, and went to get dressed.
The old bodysuit in burgundy was back in storage on Dominion Prime. Or the Widow had burned all of her leftover gear on Dominion-427. All she had now was civilian attire: brown pants that tucked into her boots; blue T-shirt with a cartoon character on the front; green kepi in place of her white beret that had been a symbol of her authority as the Dominion’s Security Bureau.
The White Hats.
She added a holster for her pistol and grabbed a short-range plasma rifle. Never know when you might want prisoners, and she doubted that the city had a good-enough clinic to treat flamer blasts to the chest, especially if your buddies had to carry you a couple of kilometers to get there.
Kyriaki tied her hair back and added a shock rod to her belt at the last minute. She let herself out the rear airlock, away from the ambush. There was a code key programmed into her card reader. That and a password were both needed to open the ship back up, so nobody would get in while she was out. If they tried, the alarm sirens might be audible from the city.
Time to sneak.
This was what she missed, as she slid to her right and followed a small wadi that would bring her around behind the men poised and waiting for her friends. The sun was getting low in the sky, so she knew they would be headed this direction soon.
Valentinian would have sent a message if they were held up or staying overnight, just so she didn’t feel the need to bring up the heavy support firepower and rescue them.
Like now.
Longshot Hypothesis held the high ground, so her path was generally downhill. Stalking her prey like the old days, when she was a cop and they were rebels or criminals. Threats to her lord, The Dominator. Which almost made her giggle, when she remembered that Dave Hall had been the Dominator she had sworn to serve, in their previous lifetimes.
; Now he was her friend. It was weird having friends, but she would protect them.
Kyriaki had memorized the terrain from above. Four of the men were on the right as she approached, ready to fire down from the hilltop if they had to, while the other two were below, where they would no doubt confront Valentinian with guns and bluster, and probably surprise.
The terrain around here was scrub desert. Rocks and dried dirt for the most part, with weird tumbleweeds and cactus-like plants on the slope. Not thick, but enough to provide her some level of cover if she moved carefully, especially with the sun low behind her.
And silence, covered over anyways with a slight wind from the south. They wouldn’t be able to smell her, either, if they had been moose.
The man in charge had set up his trap in a way so dumb Kyriaki wondered if they had seen her and set up a double trap. She froze and looked all directions, but nothing moved except a snake suddenly backing away from her with a beetle stuck in its mouth.
Kyriaki had never seen a snake slither backwards.
She could see the backs of two heads, and two more were down and around the shoulder of the hill. They were so far apart that she could take each one individually. At the same time, she couldn’t just shoot them all from here, like she could have from her perch atop the ship.
Personal felt better, though.
Forward, she slung the plasma rifle and drew her pistol and the shock rod. The closest man was poised over a rifle of some sort, head low on the crest of the hill and motionless in a way that suggested Valentinian was already approaching.
Kyriaki pointed her pistol at the second man, around ten meters to her right, but he would have to sit up and turn around to see her here. Good enough.
Rage.
The cop in her grounded the shock rod into the man’s thigh and held it there while he twitched like a gigged frog. The only sound was a brief gurgle as he passed out, and the other man didn’t hear it. She was a good-enough shot to take the second man with her off-hand, had she needed to.
Freeze. Look. Listen. Number two didn’t move.
Kyriaki crept forward, staying below the crest. Number two thrashed a little when she nailed him with the shock rod, but again very little noise. And the breeze was blowing away from everyone to hear it or smell her.
She paused enough to look over the hill both ways. Two more men had taken up spots in the brush, one behind a cactus and the other in a slight dip that might hold water for a few days when the rainy season did pass through here.
The other two men were down in the defile, watching the trail where Bayjy was leading the other two uphill. All considered, Bayjy wasn’t paranoid enough for this kind of place. Valentinian or Dave would have been in better position, or at least not as exposed. She’d need to take the salvager aside at some point and give the woman some lessons on hunting men.
And she was out of time. Bayjy was just about to the critical point, and there was no time for Kyriaki to slip back down the slope out of sight of the two men on her flank. Another ten minutes and she could have done it.
Kyriaki kept the profanities on the inside. She slipped the shock rod into her belt and reached behind her for the plasma rifle.
More than one way to skin a moose.
8
Valentinian
Valentinian saw the ambush as soon as the man stepped out. He almost managed to say something, but the man stepping into view had a pistol on them already and a second person appeared a moment later.
Valentinian quick-scanned to his left and saw the other heads indicating that he and Dave had stepped right into a pile of fresh gator poop.
Human. Or a close enough Variant in the lesser light of sunset. Dressed like a spacer, too, except some of the gear was local, so maybe someone who had lost his ship or his ride at some point and gotten stranded here.
Valentinian grimaced at his stupidity in walking into a trap. Hopefully, these men just wanted to rob them. He didn’t have that much money on him, nor weapons, but he did have Dave behind him, hopefully thinking evil and dangerous thoughts.
Everyone came to a halt. Valentinian knew trying to draw right now would get him shot, but they hadn’t fired, either, so maybe talking was on the menu, instead.
“Captain,” the big man over there said in a growly kind of voice.
“That’s right,” Valentinian replied. “If you’d wanted to talk, we were only going up to the ship for the night. Tomorrow, need to make some inquiries about supplies and maybe hiring some locals for a few tasks.”
It even sounded reasonable. What he needed right now was enough of a distraction that he and Dave could do something. Hopefully Bayjy would be smart enough to drop immediately if all hell broke loose.
The man started to say something, when a pair of dull whumps suddenly rose above them in the still air, like a giant stomping both feet in the dirt.
Valentinian looked to his left, surprised when he was still standing. That had sounded an awful lot like a plasma rifle, cycling two shots.
He smiled when Kyriaki suddenly stood up from the top of the hill and pointed the smoking, glowing barrel at the men in the defile with him. It looked like an onrushing supernova in the gathering dusk. Like one of the moons had exploded somehow and you could only watch it silently.
“Drop your weapons before I kill you,” she yelled angrily. “Your four friends are already down.”
The two bandits had made the classic mistake of turning towards Kyriaki’s voice. By the time they glanced back, Valentinian and Dave had guns pointed at them.
As did Bayjy, which was pretty impressive.
“Last warning,” Kyriaki yelled.
“Talk or die,” Valentinian said in a hard voice as the two men suddenly were out-numbered, out-gunned, and probably out of luck.
“Talk?” the man said.
“Drop the gun,” Kyriaki sounded like a Death Angel up there.
Both pistols hit the dirt at the same time. Happily, neither of them went off when they did.
Bayjy surprised him by circling to the left, out of his and Dave’s line of fire. She holstered her weapon, stayed in a squat as she grabbed both of theirs, and glanced back over her shoulder at where Kyriaki had everyone covered.
Valentinian laughed out loud when Bayjy suddenly exploded outward and punched the second man in the groin so hard he folded up around her fist with a screaming whoosh of air and pain.
She stood up right next to the leader and looked down on him with a growl loud enough for Valentinian to hear. The man turned white. Whiter, anyway, from his tan.
“Sit down before I hurt you,” Bayjy snarled.
Valentinian had never heard or seen this side of his salvager. Kinda impressive, but she probably had to deal with a lot of crap back on Hard Bargain with that M’Rai captain. And whoever else bothered her. She might be cute and female, but she was still big and strong.
And extremely girlie, from the times she had left her laundry in the dryer overnight.
The bandit dropped like a sack of potatoes.
“Dave?” Kyriaki yelled. “A little help up here? Bayjy, you too. Valentinian can handle those two.”
He laughed out loud. The last few years, he had been the muscle of the organization, because Artaxerxes was a middle-aged, squishy engineer.
It might be kinda fun, being the brains for a while.
Valentinian kept his pistol centered on the man from about five meters away as he found a nice rock to rest his butt on. The other dude finally managed to crawl to one side and sit upright, but he had apparently suffered a concussion at some point. Maybe face-planting on the ground when he got punched.
Dave had one man over each shoulder when he returned, and each of the women carried one as well. Seriously, it was nice being around women capable of kicking everybody’s ass if they had to.
Four bodies got piled up next to the fifth. Two were smoking from plasma shots, but everyone was moving by now. Bayjy made a point of collecting everyone’s boots and tyi
ng the laces together so she could carry them. The rock around here would still burn your feet for a few hours.
“So, why should I not have my bloodthirsty crew finish you off?” Valentinian asked with a wolfish grin. “Pretty sure the vultures would appreciate fresh meat, and nobody down there would probably miss you.”
9
Dave
If cats had nine lives. Dave figured he might have just used up number three. Or four, depending on a couple of other situations that could have gone either way.
They’d gotten slack. Lazy. He had fallen off that fine, killing edge that the Dominator had been required to maintain at all times. Something about retiring and living the life of the average criminal. He needed to ramp things up, just a bit.
Although, looking at Kyriaki’s victims, maybe not. She’d done an exceptional job of taking out four men without them even realizing she was there, Dave wondered if there might have been six bodies tied up and waiting when they got here, if they’d taken another ten or fifteen minutes in town.
“So, why should I not have my bloodthirsty crew finish you off?” Vee asked the punk in charge. “Pretty sure the vultures would appreciate fresh meat, and nobody down there would probably miss you.”
Dave enjoyed the look of appalled shock that remained on the man’s face. Clearly, just another bully boy with some friends, used to dealing with average spacers who weren’t prepared to unleash unmitigated violence at the drop of a hat. Never had to face someone like him. Or Kyriaki.
“Boss wants to talk to you,” the man gurgled, still trying to find his voice.
“He could have sent one of you,” Vee snarled. “Knocked politely on the hatch. Or maybe walked up to say hello while we were having dinner. Now I’m kinda angry. And you haven’t answered my question.”
Dave could imagine what an angry Valentinian might be like. Those were the sorts of reasons he had picked the young man in the first place. Boundless luck, mixed with a long, ugly streak of ruthlessness, according to records that had never proven a criminal act.
