Guardian Outcast

by G J Ogden

  Hudson laughed at the accidently-on-purpose way Ma had highlighted the skelly’s ability to open the vaults. “The vaults, huh?” he said, playing it coy.

  “Yeah, you know, just in case there was something in there that someone might want to get back,” continued Ma, matching Hudson’s cloak-and-dagger tone. Then she ruined the act with her characteristic lack of subtlety. “As in, get back a certain somebody’s score and then pass it along to her brother.”

  “I got it, Ma,” said Hudson, smiling broadly, before placing the skelly back on the counter. “What’s the rush, though? I’m quite enjoying drowning my sorrows.”

  Ma shook her head, “For an RGF cop, you sure as shit don’t know much about seized relic claims.”

  “What can I say, I’m a lousy cop,” said Hudson, with a short shrug.

  “They will clear those vaults at second sunrise and ship the contents to the auction house. So, if you’re not in there tonight, your chance is shot.”

  “Right, good point,” Hudson replied, nodding in agreement. He quickly regretted moving his head so sharply, as his pickled brain seemed to continue swaying. “I’m hardly in any condition to go on a heist though, am I? Drunk criminals tend to get caught.”

  Ma tapped the second, smaller box on the table, and Hudson turned his attention to it. “And what’s this?”

  Ma snapped opened the box to reveal two small capsules. “These are nanolivers.”

  “No way, I’ve heard of these, but never seen them for real,” said Hudson, marveling at the little capsules. They were even rarer than the skelly. “Do they actually work?”

  “Yes, they do,” replied Ma. “These things have gotten me out of as many scrapes as that skelly. And you’re right that you’ll need sobering up if you’re going to rob the vault tonight.”

  Hudson closed the lid of the nanoliver box and looked at Ma with more sober eyes. He couldn’t deny that the idea of stealing back Ericka’s score was appealing. If he could still help her brother, it would certainly go some way towards appeasing his own guilt. However, he wasn’t quite drunk enough to believe that a skelly and a clear head was all he needed to pull it off. “Thanks, Ma, but even if I did manage to break into the vaults, I’d never get off Brahms Three.” He rocked back on his stool and pointed to his pockets. “Everything I had left, I just spent filling my bloodstream with a chemical that those little pills will render inert.”

  “I’ll shout you a ticket back to Earth,” said Ma, and Hudson nearly fell backwards off his stool.

  “Ma, I appreciate all of this, I really do, but I can’t pay you back for any of it,” admitted Hudson. “I can barely pay you for the whiskey.”

  Ma waved a hand at him, “I don’t want your money, Hudson.”

  “Then why?”

  “I told you, because you’re a good guy,” replied Ma with earnest. “Besides, you’re broke and homeless, and you sure as hell aren’t staying here tonight. So, it’s the only way I’m going to get rid of your sorry ass.”

  “And here’s me thinking I still had my charm to rely on,” replied Hudson, with a smirk.

  “Oh, you’re charming enough, Hudson Powell, but also not my type,” Ma replied, with an even more wicked smirk.

  “Oh, and what’s your type then?”

  “Not broke, jobless and homeless,” replied Ma, straight faced.

  “Ouch…” said Hudson, “but, also, fair point.”

  “There’s a transport leaving in the morning, at first sunrise,” said Ma. “It’s fully booked, but the skipper’s an old flame of mine from back in the day. He’ll let you on-board if you mention my name, and leave him a little something to sweeten the deal.”

  “You old dog!” said Hudson flashing her a feigned look of shocked surprise. “And here I was thinking I’m the charmer.”

  “You just make sure your bony ass is on that transport in the morning,” Ma answered, turning a little red in the cheek. She then re-filled both of their glasses, emptying the bottle of whiskey in the process. “Now, let’s have another drink to seal the bargain, before you sober up.”

  “To daring deeds,” said Hudson, raising his glass.

  “To doing the right thing,” said Ma, chinking Hudson’s glass. Then both of them drank the contents in one gulp. “Now, go on, before I change my mind.”

  Hudson opened the box, placed the nanolivers in his mouth and swallowed them. Then he stuffed the skelly in his jacket pocket and slid off the stool. The nanolivers had yet to kick in, and so he had to hold onto the edge of the bar to steady himself. His head was spinning like a whirling dervish.

  “I meant what I said the first time you rocked up in here,” said Ma, wiping the counter top down with a yellow rag.

  “Which bit? That I’m honest, but not too bright?”

  “Well, that too,” said Ma, evidently having forgotten that she’d said that as well. “But, no. I meant when I said you’d make a good relic hunter. If you manage to get off this rock alive, give it some thought. It’s a hell of lot more fun than flying courier runs.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Hudson, though in truth, the idea hadn’t been far from his mind for some time. Then he turned to leave, feeling the effects of the nanolivers finally start to take hold. He reached the door and waited for Ma to buzz the lock, before pushing it open. A wave of cloying, sticky heat washed in from the street outside. Hudson paused and looked back at Ma for a final time. “Thanks, Ma. Whether you like it or not, I owe you one.”

  “Several, I’d reckon,” replied Ma, standing with her hands pressed to her toned hips. “But you’re welcome, Hudson Powell. Now, go stick it to ‘em.”

  Hudson shot her a little salute, then slipped out into the musky night air, clear-headed and filled with a renewed sense of purpose.

  CHAPTER 19

  The nanolivers worked fast, which Hudson soon came to realize was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he was back in full command of his enviable pilot’s reflexes. Yet on the other, sobriety had opened his eyes fully to the stark stupidity of what he’d drunkenly agreed to do. He considered timidly knocking on the door of the Landing Strip to ask Ma if she actually had some semblance of an idea about how to pull off this little stunt. However, the idea of crawling back with his tail between his legs was too humiliating. He’d already lost enough; he didn’t want to risk losing Ma’s respect and admiration too.

  Instead, he pressed his hands into his pockets and ambled off towards the CET presidio, where the vaults were located. In addition to giving the nanolivers time to work, the walk also let him run through various scenarios in his mind. It helped that he knew Brahms Three pretty well. And it also helped that compared to the scavenger towns on the near-Earth portal worlds, security on Brahms Three was hardly at the gold standard. Yet it was also true that trying to break into a CET vault was a good way of getting yourself killed. The skelly gave him an advantage, for sure. However, before he could unlock the vault, he first had to get inside the presidio. Any sensible outlaw would spend a week planning such a bold heist. Hudson had only until first sunrise to get in, out, and off world again.

  He reached the perimeter fence that cordoned off the small CET presidio from the rest of the scavenger town, and leant up against the side wall of a seedy-looking bar. He was still fruitlessly wracking his brains for a way to get inside undetected. Despite it being the dead of night, there were still plenty of people milling around. It was the usual mix of street walkers and night-time pleasure seekers that Brahms Three had evolved to serve so well.

  No-one paid Hudson any attention, until one of the women who had been loitering outside the bar sidled up to him. She casually leant back against the wall, crossed one long leg in front of the other and then shot him a glance. Hudson knew it was intended to look spontaneous, but it was merely part of a thoroughly practiced act. This wasn’t the first time Hudson had been propositioned, and he was quick to head her off.

  “Before you ask, I’m not interested,” he said, trying to sou
nd as friendly as possible. However, the fierce scowl he was met with in return seemed to suggest he’d failed miserably.

  “Well, what the bloody hell are you doing skulking around out here then?” snapped the woman. “This is hardly a spot for sightseeing, love.”

  Hudson smiled; she had a point. He couldn’t think of any good reason why he was there, which was because his reason for being there wasn’t good. “I’m thinking about how to break into the presidio and rob it,” said Hudson, deciding that telling the truth would sound just as unbelievable as any lie he could come up with on the spot.

  “Oh yeah?” said the woman, seemingly playing along with Hudson’s game. “How’d you plan to do that then?”

  Hudson shrugged, “I have absolutely no idea. I don’t suppose you have any suggestions?”

  This seemed to amuse the woman. She teased a flattened cigarette out of a pocket inside her tight denim shorts, and placed it delicately in her mouth. “That makes you a bit of a shit robber then, doesn’t it?” she said, before pointing to the cigarette. “Got a light?”

  “Sorry, I don’t smoke,” replied Hudson. He realized this was probably a good thing, since only minutes earlier there had been so much alcohol in his blood that the spark of a lighter would have sent him up like a firework.

  The woman tutted obviously. “Bloody hell, you’re just about the most useless tosser I’ve met tonight, and that’s saying something.”

  Hudson scowled back at her, but then his attention was distracted by a man in a CET uniform who was walking towards them. He was young, perhaps in his early twenties, and he looked like he’d only woken up five minutes ago. The name badge on his shirt read, ‘Private Hanes’.

  Hanes glanced briefly at the woman, before sheepishly addressing Hudson. “Uh, are you her pimp?”

  “Piss off, we’re all freelance here,” the woman shot back, before Hudson had a chance to speak. “Pimp indeed. This isn’t the movies, love. Got a light?”

  The soldier fumbled around in his many pockets and eventually found a cheap-looking plastic lighter. He leant over and used it to ignite the woman’s cigarette.

  “So, what’s the deal then?” Hanes said, placing the lighter into a different pocket to the one he’d found it in. “Are you already, uh, taken?” He glanced at Hudson as he said this.

  “No, he’s planning to break into the presidio and rob it, so I’m all yours,” said the woman without even a hint of sarcasm. She smiled and then blew out a narrow column of smoke directly in the soldier’s face.

  Hudson felt like his heart literally jumped into his throat. He kept his cool and glanced up at the private, before shoving his hands into his pockets and nodding, “Looks like I’m busted.”

  There was an awkward silence while the heavy-eyed private processed both responses. Then he blurted out a crude, chesty laugh and pointed at Hudson with a broad smile on his face. “You guys, you almost had me there!” he continued, spittle launching from his mouth as he tried to control his laughter. “I’m on duty in there in about thirty minutes, so you best not try anything!” he added by way of a mock warning.

  “You’re a guard in the presidio?” said Hudson, trying not to sound too interested by the soldier’s revelation.

  “Yeah, for the next twelve long hours, man,” the private replied, making it sound as if it he’d been sentenced to twenty years hard labor. “So, I thought I’d get a little pick me up first, you know?”

  “Oh, totally,” said Hudson, which was a lie, but he was eager to encourage the young private on. “You’d best get a move on though, if you’re on duty in half an hour.”

  “Hey, stop trying to pimp me out,” said the woman, rapping Hudson playfully on the shoulder with the back of her hand. She then turned back to Private Hanes and sucked another long drag on the cigarette, which was already almost burned out. She blew the smoke into his face again and said, “So, what’s it to be, Private?”

  “Lead the way!” said Hanes, with an even broader grin. He then winked at Hudson and followed the woman back along the road in front of the bar.

  Hudson waved as the clearly ecstatic Private Hanes practically skipped up a metal flight of stairs in pursuit of the street walker. The stairs led into a row of converted shipping containers stacked above the bar. He observed them with the detailed scrutiny of a private detective and saw the woman reach into her denim shorts and pull out a keycard. She then pressed the card to the lock, before pushing open the door and stepping inside. Private Hanes wasted no time in rushing in behind.

  “It can’t be that easy, can it?” wondered Hudson, feeling inside his jacket pocket for the skelly. Then he again looked up at the door at the top of the metal stairwell. “Surely, it can’t be that simple?”

  He mulled the idea over in his mind for a couple of minutes. This was as much to allow Private Hanes time to get his uniform off, since he’d be needing it himself. Then he committed to the act, and started to casually walk towards the stairwell with the skelly held firmly in his right hand. He wasn’t proud of what he was about to do. And he certainly had no desire to witness the scene that was inevitably already unfolding behind the locked door. Yet he also knew it was perhaps the only chance he had of getting inside the presidio, without getting killed.

  “Sorry, Private,” Hudson muttered under his breath as he held the skelly up next to the lock. Lights on the device immediately began to flash as it decoded the security key. “But I’m afraid tonight isn’t going to go down quite as you’d planned…”

  CHAPTER 20

  Hudson marched towards the CET Presidio wearing the uniform formerly belonging to Private Hanes. The act of acquiring the uniform had not been one of the finer moments in the life of Hudson Powell esquire. Remarkably, though, unlike many of his other schemes, the plan had actually worked out well. After bursting through the door, he’d literally caught Hanes with his pants down. And as the young soldier stood there, stark, bollock naked with his mouth agape and dignity laid bare, it hadn’t taken much for Hudson to sucker-punch him to the floor.

  The woman, whose name still remained a mystery, was also more than a little pissed off at the interruption. However, she had soon calmed down after Hudson wafted a stack of hardbucks in her face. This was the money Ma had fortunately decided not to charge him for all the whiskey he’d drunk, and then nullified with the nanolivers. The woman had even helped to tie Hanes up and gag him, on the promise that Hudson would give her a cut of whatever he managed to steal from the vaults in the presidio. It was actually this lie, more than the act of denying Private Hanes his clothes and a fumble beneath the sheets, that he felt most guilty about.

  Private Hanes had been a little leaner than Hudson, but on the whole the uniform fitted remarkably well. In fact, he couldn’t believe his luck. Had Hanes been a hundred pounds heavier or five inches shorter, this hair-brained scheme of his couldn’t have worked. For once it seemed like the cards were falling in Hudson’s favor. He’d even acquired a genuine security keycard, which had enabled him to enter the presidio through a side gate without raising suspicion. However, as he headed towards the main complex, amazed at his continued good fortune, he spotted another soldier marching towards him. Hudson took several deep breaths and prepared himself, hoping that this guard, like Hanes, lacked Logan Griff’s talent for seeing through bullshit.

  “Are you my relief?” snapped the guard, whose name badge read, ‘Private Yardley’. He looked even younger than Private Hanes and spoke with a nasally voice that immediately got on Hudson’s nerves.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” said Hudson, trying to mimic Hanes’ jocular tone. “I’m Private Hanes.”

  “Well, yeah, I can see that,” said Yardley, pointing to the name badge on Hudson’s shirt. “You must be new around here, Hanes, because we change-over five minutes in advance of the scheduled hour. You’re already ten minutes late!” Yardley’s adenoidal voice rose in pitch with each sentence, so that by the end of his tirade only dogs could have heard him properly.


  “Yeah, sorry, I’ll know for next time,” said Hudson, not really knowing what else to say.

  “Whatever, man, I’m late already,” Yardley went on, while unclipping a carabiner from his belt loop and shoving a bunch of keycards into Hudson’s hand. “These are the keys to the base. Oh, and it’s just you on duty in this section tonight. Richards called in sick again, the skiving asshole. So, if you need anything, just radio the guards in the tower.”

  “Hey, no problem,” said Hudson using his ‘Hanes voice’ again. Once again, he could hardly believe his luck. He saluted and added, “You take it easy man.”

  Yardley grumbled an indistinct reply and then marched off towards the main exit. Hudson was left alone in the yard, feeling more than a little shell shocked. He checked his watch and saw that first sunrise was three hours away. He still had enough time to get inside the vault, assuming the skelly was able to work its magic.

  Hudson walked up to the door of the main block, and then cycled through the various keyfobs that Yardley had thrust upon him. Eventually, he found the one that opened the door, and stepped inside. He was vaguely familiar with the layout of CET presidios like this one, having done courier runs to many of them in the past. However, he’d never seen the vaults, and so had no choice but to wander the halls, hoping to get lucky. After a few anxious wrong turns, dead ends and nervous checks of his watch, he eventually found the vault room. Frantically, he cycled through each of the keycards, but none opened the door.

  “Figures…” Hudson muttered out loud, “I wouldn’t trust this bunch of airhead guards with the keys to the vault room either.” He clipped the keycards to his belt and pulled the skelly out of his jacket pocket. “Luckily, I have my own key...” he added, still muttering under his breath, before switching on the device and pressing it to the lock. The skelly clamped on magnetically and green LEDs began to flash as it decrypted the entry code.

  Compared to the lock to the boudoir that he’d ‘picked’ earlier, the locking mechanism for the vault room was far more sophisticated, and progress was painfully slow. Hudson hoped that Ma had been right about the security systems on Brahms Three being outdated, because if the skelly didn’t work, he was sunk.