by Chris Turner
* * *
Besi 6 was a sparsely-populated, impoverished world closest to the sun Jesra. The biggest city, Tyaan, had more outdoor markets than any in the solar system, the bazaar capital of the solar system, but the rest of the planet was just scattered villages in a dry, windswept sandbath.
Because of its poverty, Besi had been spared the scars and gutting of war like the multi-citied worlds. But there were some heavy players with goods to sell and hustles to go. We were going straight into the heart of the wild, trigger-happy western tribes that spanned the arid gulches, the parched, baking wasteland.
Pazarol had mentioned the dominant tribe, the Gedra, known to extort the smaller clans of their exports, which they called ‘protection fees’ or some kind of fool tax for being in their territory. The Tanza of Gizren, of course, refused to pay, so I hoped we didn’t have trouble with any of them this day.
Starrunner and Urgon rode low over the dust-cloaked valley. It was wide and swept with low dunes of fine, white sand. To the side snaked a ridge of pale red outcrops and black-flecked rock. On the other side, a long, thin lake, or what looked like a body of dark, greasy water, lurked. Probably caked with alien salt and poisons of high concentration.
Urgon landed at the base of the ridge where a group of rusted tin outbuildings clustered and what seemed an abandoned oil rig. But I kept Starrunner back, closer to the oily water for reasons I attributed to pure instinct. Two ships parked off to the other side of the rig: a sleek silver Sphinx, and a grey Markest, both looking in good working order.
The engines wound down and Wren and I jumped down in the stifling heat to meet the sellers, with Raez trotting at our heels. Wren carried the funds Pazarol had given us in a black bag. Raez seemed quick to make a show of the armed bulge at his hip, the R4, as if he were a real cowboy. I forbore comment on that.
The Urgon’s loading hatch dropped and Grisheimer, efficient as a bulldog, clumped out with two of his heavily-armed men to stand at either side. Their AKs gleamed in the sun while the pilot stayed on the bridge, keeping the ship online in case a quick getaway was necessary.
Eight Tanza guards stood loitering about the rig, carrying a mix of submachine guns and semi-automatics; a few might have been women among that motley lot. Hard to tell from this distance. Their hair was tied up in flat brown fur caps, and no help either the baggy clothes that hid a lot of telltales. Rake-thin desert types, bronzed skin, yellow-bleached hair from decades of sun.
The steel-mill trestle-thing poked up from a low mound in the sand, like some twisted grasshopper of an earlier age. The gears worked, and a grinding, back-grating whir of an engine at high rpms brought a giant, metal, pear-shaped gourd up on heavy chains. An operator worked a side lever; chains and clamps tipped the thing lengthwise into a massive lode cart, dumping the raw, small blue crystals in without ceremony.
Some of the miners did not look good—pale, haggard and hacking with dry, rasping coughs. They were unwell and I only guessed the beryllium or whatever derivative of it they mined, was not the healthiest of substances. They started up the six-wheeled tractor that hauled the massive lode cart.
I caught a fleeting glimpse of the dark stuff as it tumbled into the loader, sending shrill echoes up the rugged ridge. A rare mineral combo of emerald, beryllium, quartz, and something else. Whatever the case, it didn’t look too stable. I was glad the smugglers’ freighter would be carrying it, and not my ship. Maybe I’d take a rain check on the ‘enhanced’ fareon beam for now.
The Tanza crew met Wren, me, and Raez at the foot of the loader, as the freighter’s engine, noisy in age and construction, ramped down and its four landing struts sank deeper into the sand. Grisheimer signaled for the man inside to shorten the ramp to facilitate the cargo transfer.
Hardened, blunt-nosed men worked the ore cart’s hatch to get the stuff dropped inside.
“These thugs look like regular guerillas.” I whispered, indicating the foremost gunmen, wrapped in their tan, camel hides, roped at the waist, each with an Uzi slung over a shoulder, another gripped in hand.
Wren snorted. “More like the local terror guard hired to keep the crystal from getting snatched.”
“And? You got a problem with that?” snarled Raez. “What universe do you subscribe to, woman?”
“Shut up, both of you,” I hissed. “They’re coming closer.”
Dolgra, the young chief, met us, waving in gruff, blunt manner. “Welcome. I didn’t expect you on time. I’m Dolgra. On Besi, nobody is on time.”
“Well, we are,” I grunted. “My name’s Rusco.”
I couldn’t help but notice the patch of trees, three stubby ones, on which hung grungy patches of blackened flesh of what had once been human.
The chief peered to where I was looking. “Those are ones who thought to betray our interests. Reminders of doom, a powerful incentive for obedience on Besi.”
“No doubt.”
Dolgra seemed smaller than the other tribesmen, lighter boned and with a face that at first glance seemed feminine: the fine nose, the soft eyes, the delicate lashes, all were testament to a misconceived gender. But on deeper inspection the layers of sinew on his oiled biceps and forearms showed muscle that’d been amassed after years of hard discipline. One of his dog-faced men pulled off his cap to wipe his sweaty brow and I saw darker hair underneath. So, they were not all fair. Many were lank-limbed with shaved chins, and there was a curious slant to their eyes, wide-spaced like oxen, but their skin and bodies were as lean as greyhounds and toughened from generations of stinking hot sun.
“You have the Beryllium crystal?”
The chief held up a hand. “Here… Wait, you fools!” he yelled up at his loading men, then faced us. “You have the money?”
Smoke from a nearby village curled farther down the valley. I guessed they lived up in the rugged hills. The 80k yols they were due, and the 120k later when the buyer paid out, would be nothing less than a small fortune. I jerked my head to the bag Wren clutched. “In there. All 80k yols.”
“Good. Let me see.”
“I unzipped the leather bag and held it up for the chief’s inspection.
His emerald eyes twinkled with greed. He curled a finger in beckoning. “Pass it over.”
“First load up the merchandise,” I insisted.
The chief shrugged. He gave a brief signal to his men. The loader jerked forward.
I frowned. There were only five hulking bins sitting tucked away to the side that looked anything like a stash of valuable ore. “Is this all of it?” I demanded. I’d expected more.
The chief scowled and fluttered his fingers. “There were complications. My workers are this minute digging out the last of the beryllium crystal.” He motioned to his other loader and his men began tractoring the five heaping carts into Urgon’s hold.
Raez’s mouth quivered in slack-jawed anger. “Is this a joke, Dolgra? We had an agreement.”
Dolgra showed a line of brown teeth. “Couldn’t be helped. “You’re getting the goods at a fair price, so consider yourself lucky. Be patient.”
“Patient?” Raez cried, flinging a hand down at his bulging hip. “We’re running on a tight deadline here. If this deal goes south because of your incompetence—”
“Relax,” I growled at Raez, grabbing his arm while lancing him a warning glare.
Raez grunted and wrenched his arm free. “Don’t patronize me, asshole. Lay hands on me again, Rusco, and you’ll regret it. These fucking grease balls are trying to dick us around, don’t you see it? Pazarol is going to be eating monkey nuts for breakfast when—”
“Shut the hell up,” I hissed. I turned to Dolgra, showing my most amiable face. “How long for the rest of the shipment? Two hours, maybe four?”
He shrugged. “Probably longer.”
I wagged my head. “Well, nothing we can do about it. We kick back and relax.”
“What do you mean, ‘kick back and relax’?” uttered Raez. “No we can’t just ‘kick back and relax’, you
lamebrain. Paz said—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what ‘Paz’ said,” I rasped. “Things are never optimal, Raez. Paz should have allowed for some contingencies.”
“And he didn’t.” The thug’s hand went for his R4. The clink of metal clicked all around as Dolgra’s men trained barrels on us.
I held up my hands, smiling like a cornered cat. “Okay…let’s all calm down. No need for violence.” Shit, this is going badly. That pissbrain, Raez. No wonder Paz-ass couldn’t trust his own men to handle this.
“Control your dog, Mr. Rusco,” said Dolgra, “otherwise, there’ll be blood on the sand today.”
I glared at Raez. “You heard the man.”
A whine of engines came screeching out of the sky. Two V-Zon cruisers arched down armed to the teeth with glinting armor. I shook my head in dismay. What else could go wrong?
“Who are they?” Wren croaked.
“Gedra.” Dolgra swore. “They’ll want a cut.” He whirled on his aide beside him. “Vespie, I thought you said we were clean? Didn’t you scout out the area?”
“They must have slipped underneath our radar, chief. Cloakers.”
“That’s unacceptable!”
“How much do they want?” I asked.
“Probably 30% which is the usual Gedra tax.”
“No fucking way, Dole-face,” Raez snorted. “Stall them, or kill them. It’s up to you, or this deal’s off.”
Weapons came up, half on the approaching ships, the others cocked on Raez and me. Dolgra scowled, face curling in an indecisive snarl. “The deal stands, or you’ll be strung in yon trees minus two arms.”
“See, I told you so,” whined Raez. “While these morons were out sunbathing by the lake, we could’ve loaded up and been out of here. Now what’s your plan, Rusco? You going to leap around, do a rain dance or something?”
“Shut up, I’m thinking.”
“Think fast, because—”
The first Gedra ship landed nearby kicking up dust; four armored men stormed out, clutching rifles and home-grown grenades in fists that were big, ugly, olive-colored weapons, the size of melons.
The first man spoke in a guttural accent, “This is most irregular, Dolgra. You know Chief Jzrend’s policy. Report all goods to the central authority—or….”
“I can pay next time, Avloz. Not this time.”
“Famous excuses.” The Gedra smiled and gave his head a sad shake. “No deal. Make that 40% cut this time, for insolence and wasting our time.”
I approached with a breezy confidence. “No need to bat heads, gentlemen.” I hefted the bag of yols. Putting on my most disarming smile, I let my words spew out in typical Rusco fashion. “I bet you boys are getting what, a tenth of a percent of your shakedown? if that, even if you are on salary? Let’s sweeten the pot.” Let a competitor think he’s getting a better deal, he’ll be all for it, and think you’re on his side.
But there was no chance to explore that angle.
Raez whipped out his R4 and sprayed bullets into the midst, taking off the head off the first Gedra. The others in his troupe fired, dropping two of Dolgra’s guards.
Weapons exploded from all sides. Grenades launched in the air. I ducked. Reached out to pull Wren back. Shrapnel tore at the closest Gedra and skimmed off Starrunner’s back plates. Lucky that I’d set her down farther away.
Another grenade landed closer to our payload and the flames licked out at the Urgon. Grisheimer was yelling, “Shit! Back to the ship!”
I spoke harsh words into the com as I ran, “TK, get Starrunner running!” Grisheimer’s man got Urgon airborne, even as metal was flying by me. I caught a glimpse of Dolgra scrambling for the silver Sphinx, dodging bullets all the way. Some of his men caught lead and fell like flies.
TK already had the hatch open as Wren and I zigzagged along, dodging shells and firing back over our shoulders.
One of the Gedra air guard flew over us, raining bullets and spraying death. I hunched, crouching behind a dune, my AK trained on some movement to my right. Wren and Raez fell in behind, sucking in labored breaths. The leather on my right arm was torn and blood flowed. Raez had an ugly slash across his left cheek from shrapnel that had grazed him. Good. All of us were soot-covered from the blast.
“You idiot, sabotaging our venture?” I wheezed at the acrid stench. “Whose side are you on?”
“None, from where I’m looking,” Wren spat, blood curling from her lip.
Raez spat. “I at least, had the guts to do what neither of you chickenshits did—blast those bitches away.”
I lifted a fist. “I could have smoothed it out, fed them a line and given those messenger boys some baksheesh and it would have ended smoothly.”
“You think? I highly doubt that given the size of the load they’d—”
“Quit bitching and let’s get to the ship,” Wren cried.
An opening presented itself. The crouching Gedra were concentrating on the Urgon, raking it with fire.
I grinned. “Lick your wounds later, Raez. Let’s shake a leg, get back to the ship, if you want to live.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Raez lifted his barrel, my eyes darting to a furtive movement several paces away. An enemy creeping up behind my back. For a second there, I thought Raez was going to cap me. Instead he blew the stalker’s eyes out.
The Gedra desert men stepped out from behind the sand dunes, spraying fire. That rat-a-tat of enemy fire was a hollow echo of nightmare to me. I knew one day one of those slugs would catch me in the wrong place and it would be all over. Would it be today?
I shook off the pending image. The second enemy ship was in the air, taking sporadic shots at our freighter which nicked the underbelly’s cowling. I cringed, my heart lurching. If that ship went down…but obviously they just wanted to paralyze our freighter Urgon and spare the expensive cargo. Metal plates fell off her stern.
We came staggering up Starrunner’s ramp, as I smashed the hatch button closed. TK got us lifting airborne. How that rat-bastard Raez, huffing at our heels, had managed to survive the shells and bullets and flames mystified me. He’d done some kind of crouching dance, half snaking his way through fire flares and managed to avoid the onslaught. I raced to the bridge, took the controls, and swept TK out of the way. Raez came stumbling in, trailing blood, gaping at the viewport like some dumb animal.
As soon as I had wrested the controls from TK, I veered us about in a desperate hairpin. Wren stayed at the weapons console, sighted on the closest Gedra ship and blasted it to pieces.
Dolgra’s T-Arathron Sphinx came looping after us, a silver, glittering T-bone shape with modern engines, souped up forward thrusters, like the old rad-rockets of the first generation. I recalled we still hadn’t paid the chief Dolgra, so I guessed he’d be pissed. Going to be a shitload of angry parties before this was all over.
Wren aimed her Uzi at Raez. “You stupid ass, you have some gall. What were you trying to pull down there?”
“Things got a little out hand, bitch, no big deal. Mind your manners. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“Fixed? What shit are you pulling? The devil’s got new horns, with you wasting Gedra, now the deal’s shot to hell.”
“No it isn’t. We can salvage it,” I said. “No thanks to Raez here.”
Raez bowed, flashed a cheeky grin. “Cap’n, I am duly sorry and hope you’ll accept my humblest apologies.”
My fists turned white. “That smug shit isn’t going to work here, Raez. It comes out of your share—or Pazarol’s.”
Raez shrugged. “Kind of like the minnow telling the shark to go bring him some fresh mackerel.” He spat a wad on the metal tiles. “Big P ain’t going to like that.”
“Tough titty on big P,” Wren roared.
Chapter 14
We escaped Besi 6’s gravity and the freighter limped along, its starboard flank smoking. Dogra’s lightweight Ultra dogged us, weaving in and out, weapons spraying fire.
“Rusco,” Dolg
ra’s voice screamed over the com. “I want my yols.”
“You’ll get it,” I grumbled. “You expected me to waltz over there and hand it to you in the middle of a firefight?”
“If this a doublecross—”
“Relax. Let’s plan on a rendezvous somewhere near once we clear Gizren’s gravity, say Mora-Vaille, on the way to the dropoff point. You wanted to play escort, so this’ll work out for you.”
“One condition—” Dolgra’s wheezing voice played over the com. “Two of my men go aboard Urgon to ensure safe passage and fair play.”
“Fine by me.”
“Like hell it’s fine!” Raez shook his greasy head as he came crowding behind me, breathing down my neck. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“It is now,” I barked at him. “Get back and let me handle this.”
“Gris will never allow it.” The man glared about like a wolf, shafting me a venomous look. His gaze shifted to TK, clacking away at the keys. “What’re you looking at, old codger?”
TK turned, brows raised.
“Yeah, you—the one who looks like head librarian around here.”
TK’s lips pressed in a firm line. “Quaint, very quaint.”
“Cap’n Jet put you up as a charity case?” He laughed at his own quip. No laughter came back. “Oi..! Are you guys just a bunch of stiffs?”
“No, we just have a higher bar for humor,” said Wren.
I wondered if I should be worried about Raez walking around freely with that piece at his hip. I moved over to him. “Hand over your weapon.”
