The shadow named Reelai slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a disc. ‘There is a safe haven prepared.’ He held the disc out to Milton. ‘This will show you the way.’
Milton looked down at the object. It glinted with a golden sheen in the drizzle. He stepped forward cautiously, darting his gaze between the disc and the creature. The being, Reelai, stared with two silver, reflective eyes. Milton reached out with a shaky hand and plucked the thing away.
‘I cannot be seen with you. The rest of us will be in danger. You must find your own way. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Milton replied, not sure if he did.
Reelai glanced at the sky then darted past Tazman and leapt high, stepping up the sheer wall and grabbing its top edge. Hanging there for a moment, Reelai tilted his head and looked down at the pair. A crack of lightning cut across the sky behind him. The flash bounced off the wet folds of his garment, momentarily lighting his silhouette like a kind of divine halo. With that, he vaulted over the wall in a single motion and, with a flutter of his black robe, he was gone.
‘So …’ said Tazman, taking a deep healthy breath, ‘another drink?’
Seven
Milton kept the gold disc close. It pressed against his chest through his vest pocket. He snuck another glance while he followed Tazman down the walkpath. A group of noisy beings approached. One was a leggy, magenta-skinned female. A thin piece of fabric barely covered her tall, elegant form. Tazman swaggered close and she drew back, exchanging mocking glances with others in her party. Tazman turned and grinned cheekily.
‘Did you see that one?’
‘Yeah, I saw her,’ replied Milton, briefly glancing back.
‘I love this place!’ Tazman yelled.
Milton looked around, still not believing where he was. Despite his desperate situation he continued to be enchanted by all he was experiencing. But the incident in the alley replayed continuously in his mind. That guy, Reelai, had known his name. He strained his mind trying to figure out how this was possible. He pulled out the gold disc for a closer examination. Markings had been engraved on its surface, separated by tiny seams. He ran his fingernail along them, in an attempt at finding an opening. A hand grabbed the back of his vest and jerked him to a standstill. He spun to see Tazman, now behind, staring slack-jawed at something to the side.
‘What?’
The simian stood mesmerised in the glow emanating from a stack of display screens on the side of a building. A holographic image of Milton’s head rotated slowly. Information, posted in several languages, swam down the side of the screen.
Wanted by the Tranquillian Composite for the destruction of the Orisurrection space colony. Believed to be a Tyde agent involved in the disappearance of Nova Corp science vessel, the Reconotyre.
‘You’re a Tyde agent?’ cried Tazman, jumping into combat stance.
‘No. This is a mistake,’ stammered Milton.
The screen went black; then Tazman’s image appeared. Tazman stepped back in disbelief. ‘Well I know I’m not a Tyde agent.’ He turned to Milton. ‘They think we did it?’
‘Then I’m obliged to take you in,’ said a voice, cutting in from behind.
Milton spun to find himself looking down the barrels of two sidearms. The captain of Inhibitan stood in a braced position and flicked a loose strand of hair from her face. ‘That would be the responsible thing, after all,’ she added, and activated the charge mechanism on both weapons.
Tazman shrieked.
‘Don’t move!’ she ordered. ‘Get your hands where I can see them. These things can melt metal. Imagine what they would do to you.’
Tazman shot his hands in the air. Milton was reluctant to comply with the gold disc still in his hand. She glanced at it briefly, disinterested.
‘You think you can get a free ride from me?’ she said smugly. ‘I’ll take my fare by some other means.’
‘Come on now,’ pleaded Tazman. ‘Are you going to believe everything you hear on a news feed? We’re innocent.’
‘Yeah, we’re all innocent aren’t we? Please, I’d be broke if I were stupid enough to fall for that one. Maybe this will teach you not to rip—’ unexpectedly, her voice trailed off. Her hard gaze began to float.
‘Yes?’ encouraged Tazman, circling his palms up. ‘Rip ... uuhhh, rip you off, is that what you were saying?’
Her distracted eyes couldn’t decide where to look. Milton, curious of her darting focus, stretched his gaze around steadily, avoiding any sudden movement, looking over his shoulder.
He saw the thing that concerned her and gave Tazman a subtle nudge. The intoxicated simian turned around to see the rotating holographic depiction of her solemn face displayed in the same fashion.
Milton turned back. Behind her, on every screen, on every skyscraper, the colourful advertising had been replaced by the holographic faces of Milton, Tazman and the lady who stood before them.
Her surprised expression reverted to anger; she tightened her grip on the weapons.
Tazman burst into a hearty laugh, throwing her offbeat. ‘Luylla Warride, is that your name?’ he managed between chuckles. ‘Looks like you’re wanted for organised crime there lady — the big bad bounty hunter.’
‘Shut up,’ she shot back. ‘It’s not funny. And get your hands in the air.’
‘Or you’ll what, take us in?’ replied Tazman.
‘I’m still the one with the guns,’ she said, stepping forward and pushing the barrel towards him. He quietened, but still, he couldn’t wipe the giant smirk off his face.
The captain was about to say something else when Tazman burst out again, giddy as a child. She shot a glance at Milton, who shrugged. ‘He’s under the influence,’ he explained.
Tazman gasped for air. ‘Listen to you. A wanted criminal can’t cash in on a bounty — especially not when the Tranquillian Composite is paying. Do you know what they do to “suspected” Tyde agents? A bit of secret torture here and there — and don’t think they’ll go any easier on you, darling.’
Tazman calmed down. Something else caught his focus. He took a slight step forward to look at her guns. Luylla inched back self-consciously. Tazman’s eyes went wide. His face lit up again, and he burst out in laughter more heartier than before.
‘And you haven’t even turned the safety off!’ he yelled.
Luylla’s eyes flitted down in panic, flaring wide at the discovery. The sight was too much for Tazman. Weak in the legs, he backed up against the wall, unable to stop pointing and laughing. Luylla slipped her thumbs over the back of her guns and the charge pitches reversed polarity.
‘Nope,’ said Tazman, ‘Not that one.’
She muttered at the weapons and crossed her right hand over her left, fidgeting with a moving part on her pistol while trying to keep both of them in her sights.
‘I think she’s new to this, Milton,’ Tazman laughed.
Milton searched for options. He wasn’t sure if Tazman was coordinated enough to run. Moreover, he wasn’t sure how far they could get, given the whole wanted-for-organised-crime situation. The hooded guy from the alley had said something about a safe haven.
‘Listen,’ he spoke up. ‘I’m being completely honest when I say we know as much about this situation as you do. We don’t know what happened to that colony but we do have a lead.’ He held out the gold disc. ‘We were framed, but we found someone who is willing to help us.’
Luylla stepped back. Her hands slipped over the guns and the ammunition battery ejected from the right pistol. She quickly caught it and thrust it back. Milton moved to avoid the barrel.
‘Help us get off-world and together we’ll find a way out of this mess.’
An odd humming caught Milton’s attention. A patrol bot floated towards the group. The purple and white sphere, the size of a head, was covered with gadgets.
It circled an arc behind Luylla, twisting to face her. Round lenses flipped out and extended. The bot flashed repeatedly as it circled her face. She squinted and
turned away. It turned, spotted the other two and unleashed a volley of rapid flashes. It chirped and made a clicking processing sound, then it let burst a blaring screech. Milton reflexively slammed his palms to his ears, still holding the disc tight. Every passer by did the same as they looked in their direction.
Luylla holstered one gun and cocked the other. She swung her arm to the side and pulled the trigger. A bright blast exploded from the chamber. It ripped clean through the patrol bot; a clump of wires burst from the exit hole. The bot paused in the air. Sparks spurted from its crinkled front. The siren ended with a high-pitched choke and the sphere hit the pavement where it twitched and sparked for the last time. Tazman giggled.
‘It’s your call,’ added Milton, not even sure if she had listened to his proposal.
‘I can’t afford to go down for this,’ she said, worry in her voice, switching her aim between the engineers.
‘Then help us,’ cried Milton.
She sighed angrily. ‘I will be watching the both of you. If you so much as look at me funny … you and that patrol drone will have something in common.’
Grey smoke snaked from the drone’s gaping blast hole while its operational lights faded slowly to oblivion.
‘Sounds reasonable,’ agreed Milton. They set off for the Inhibitan.
Thick threads of yellow lightning cracked the sky. Rainfall gradually got heavier. Milton jogged through another back alley; this one was a lot cleaner. He held his arm across his forehead to see. Tazman and Luylla were not far ahead, arguing about the best route through the city. They stood at an alley intersection, glancing around for patrol bots and authorities. Tazman began ranting in the downpour.
‘Oh no,’ Milton said to himself.
The simian turned to Luylla, yelling and eccentrically making his point with flailing arms and whipping tail. Luylla, not paying him any attention, glanced up. She pushed Tazman behind a vent column and ducked for cover after him. Milton darted behind a pillar against the alley wall. A searchlight swooped over the area.
The patrol vehicle hovered at the exit. Dots of light strobed from its frame and shadows moved behind its tinted dome visor. Rain steamed off its jets, blurring the air with escaping heat. Milton thinned his body and the light swept past his hiding place. The spot beam switched off. The moment lingered before the vehicle tilted forward to move on. Milton jogged up to the pair and addressed Tazman. ‘Are you finished?’ Tazman said nothing, frowning with tightened lips and narrowed eyes. The trio moved on, crossing a thin street then pausing at the mouth of another, wider alley, shielded from the rain and filled with merchants, buskers and music.
‘Don’t look anyone in the eye,’ advised Luylla, striding ahead.
‘But that one has nothing but eyes,’ retorted Tazman, pointing as he followed on.
Colourful shapes suspended above and across the buildings, outshining the bland half-sphere side lamps along the walls. Milton passed a stack of cages filled with feathered, reptilian and armoured birds. Beside them on a shelf were various shaped eggs under an incubating light.
In another display two gigantic arachnids strummed their legs on metallic strings stretched tight over an elaborate rig above their multiple-eyed heads. Their prickling music screeched from amplifying horns. Tazman kept a hold of his tail.
A tentacle wound around Milton’s upper arm and spun him back to face a shelf of polished bits of metal jewellery.
‘Care to trade?’ the creature inquired in a breathy voice. It flipped its tentacles in an elaborate wave, emitting gurgles and sludge from a floppy, digit-covered mouth at the centre of an enormous scar-ridden head. A wayward tentacle slipped into Milton’s pocket and extracted the gold disc.
‘Get off,’ said Milton. The creature let out a piercing wail. Milton grabbed the disc in both hands and threw his weight back. The tentacle slipped off and the disc broke free. Milton moved on, wiping his hands of the bio gunk. Annoyed, he pushed through the crowd with his hand protecting the treasure in his pocket, ignoring everything around him. He spotted the hangar entrance past the alley’s end. Luylla skimmed across the intersecting path. He crept up behind to find her stopped short of the opening.
‘Well, that’s going to be a problem,’ she huffed. She wandered away from the entrance, looking at the sky, cursing and hitting the wall.
‘What?’ Milton asked.
‘You see that guy in the battle armour?’ she said, frustrated. Milton inched to the entrance and peered in. Among the crowd there stood a horned creature wearing a hard suit of black and red. Large shoulder pads and chest plating dominated the frame. The armour hugged tight around his small hips and grew thick again with battle-scratched thigh plating and boots. He held a rifle close to his chest. His expressionless gaze scanned the spaceport.
‘Yeah,’ Milton confirmed.
‘That’s a standard issue Composite pulse rifle. And I imagine he has friends with him.’
Milton looked again. Two others strode into view and crossed to Luylla’s ship, rapping their weapons on it. Another was speaking with the hangar owner.
The green slug stood on tiptoes. Its eye stems stretched until level with the face of the soldier who yelled an order in response. Two more soldiers materialised from the crowd and proceeded to drag the slug away, its eye stems squirming out front in a feeble attempt to repel away.
‘We need a distraction,’ said Milton.
Luylla turned to him blankly.
He smiled. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
Eight
Milton strode inconspicuously across the hangar. Between moving bodies, he could see a Composite soldier scanning the crowd with a grimace and an upturned chin. Milton turned his face away and took a hard left behind a nearby group.
He glanced up and around, noting the squad’s placement in the hangar. Two stood by the Inhibitan and another ambled along the central path that cut between the landing pads. The patrolling commando had a smirk that seemed frozen to his conceited face as he looked down on those who passed by, forcing them to step aside. Two raggedy shipmates hauled a container by hand along the path. The commando paused in their way and looked them over, running an open hand over his rifle. The crewmates exchanged a glance and obediently lugged the crate around the authority figure, having to grab their respective crate handles in both hands to compensate for the lack of momentum. The commando scoffed to himself and approached the entrance Milton had entered. Luylla pulled her head back from the opening. The commando stopped at the door and casually surveyed the street outside.
Milton’s shoulder slammed into someone. He apologised, and the other guy, who had a face drooping with fat folds, grunted and mumbled as he kept walking. Milton went to the far wall and moved along it, towards the long-necked beasts. Darting quickly around a jutting pile of cargo crates, he reached the cages.
The two wryhaidon wore restraints on their mouths; a good idea given their location. They snorted, breath steaming from their nostrils, and flicked their heads woozily, jangling the chains that ran down their backs. Milton saw the caretaker markings on the sides of their legs, indicating they were consummated mates. The wryhaidon bond was strong. This was all the more useful to the situation.
Milton edged around the cage, glancing about and finding no wrangler on guard. He stealthily unlocked the door. The beast heard the sound and lowered its head to Milton, alternately blinking its transparent and non-transparent sets of eyelids. The animal’s eyes were glazed over, a sign of space travel drugging. The docile beast flexed its neck, touching the top of its head to the cage door. With a creak of the rusty metal, the cage swung open. The creature lumbered out.
Screams rose from the hangar and the crowd shoved away to escape the path of the beast. The wryhaidon simply looked at them and continued exploring its surroundings. Its tail whipped out and toppled a pile of cargo crates as it turned its focus to a towering cargo crane. Hairy nostrils opened on its snout and sniffed along the piece of equipment. The wrangler darted to its side, waving h
is arms in a feeble effort to get the thing’s attention.
A cargo loader backed up behind the wryhaidon, trying to install an oversized crate into a ship. Before the driver noted the shouts to stop, the loader’s tracked wheel met the wryhaidon’s tail tip with a crunch.
The beast whipped its neck straight and let rip a bloodcurdling roar. It turned its head to the loader and struggled against the weight. The startled driver, finally noticing the animal loose in the hangar, escaped the loader and slunk away.
The beast stood on its hind legs and lurched itself forward. The scaly skin where its tail met its body darkened to a black-brown colour. The wryhaidon heaved and grunted with forelegs fluttering. The blackened section of skin gave way. The tail detached with an explosion of dark green goo into the air. The appendage thumped to the floor; its muscles twitching in spasm, flexing up and continuing to spurt ribbons of bio goo.
The beast charged forward into the open space and turned on the spot, sending a spray of green discharge from its open drop-tail wound. It stood up and stomped the ground in an instinctive response to a subterranean predator.
From in its cage, the second beast roared concern for its mate. Milton released the lock and it galloped out and barged into the cargo loader.
The panicking creatures whipped their necks and remaining tail, their stomping legs warding off everything in proximity. The cargo crane came crashing down. Howling screams rose from the crowd. The masses bustled to one side of the spaceport.
Trying to level his pulse rifle, the pompous commando pushed his way through the stampeding crowd. Once he got a clear sight, another soldier came up and pushed his aim away. Too many fuel containers dotted through the hangar.
A wrangler approached the soldiers. The hairy hard-faced being was dressed in thick leather with a necklace of jagged teeth. After a brief exchange, the soldiers slung their rifles across their backs and followed him. The wrangler approached the beasts in an arms-open stance. The two soldiers broke away from him on either side, surrounding the creature awkwardly.
Rift Breaker Page 6
