by Alex Kings
“Fine,” growled Rurthk. “But let's go.”
Above them, there came the sound of an explosion, followed by spurts of gunfire.
Olivia paled. “Alright.”
As the three of them ran down the alley, Rurthk activated his comm. “Mero! What in the bleeding infinite hells are you playing at?”
*
Mero peered through the smoke. The last of his would-be captors was crawling away through the debris. He levelled his rifle and fired once. The man stopped moving.
He activated his comm. “Sorry, Cap. Ran into a bit of bother. Only just made my way out of it. You need any help?” He idly kicked at the Varanid's detached lower jaw; it had come off when Mero had detonated a grenade in his mouth.
“We're past needing a rescue,” Rurthk said. “It's time to get out of here.”
“On my way,” said Mero. He bounded across the rooftop, opened his arms to extend the membranes of skin running down both sides of his body, and glided to the next roof.
*
Next, Rurthk called the ship. “Kaivon, are you in place? A daring rescue would be helpful.”
“I will see what I can do,” said Kaivon. “Rendezvous Point One?”
“I'll be there,” said Rurthk. He closed the channel, then explained for Olivia's benefit. “There's a park down this way big enough for the ship to land for a moment. We're going there.”
Olivia nodded as they ran out onto the main street. Rain continued to lash down on the cobbles. Eloise still held onto her umbrella, though her hair was soaked.
“It's not far,” Rurthk said, looking around at the people on the main street, pistol hidden under his coat.. “A couple hundred metres this way. We just need to –“
Gunfire sparked off the cobbled beside them. Rurthk and Eloise dived to the side, grabbing Olivia between them. People screamed and started to run.
“Rurthk!” roared a voice. It was one of the twins.
Snarling, Rurthk turned, pistol raised.
An armoured car was speeding towards them.
Chapter 9: Mr. Hand
Felix Zino had one more job to do before he left Cantor. He sauntered cheerfully through the streets with his flunky in tow. Around them, Petaur workers were taking down the banners and cleaning up the remains of yesterday's celebration.
Some distance out of the centre, they came to a dingy little box of a building. It looked like a run-down prefab apartment complex from the early days of colonisation. The walls were a grimy grey. Most of those buildings had been torn down and replaced with something better, but a few remained here and there.
Zino eyed the door. “You sure this is the right place?”
“I triple checked,” said his flunky.
Zino shrugged and jabbed a button. Whatever bell it rung wasn't audible from outside. A moment later, the door slid to the side.
Inside, a short, balding human in an ill-fitting suit greeted them with a bow. “Please come this way,” he said.
He led them down a short hall with a grating lining the ceiling – standard for Petaur accommodations – and into one of the apartments.
All the furniture had been removed save for a desk of flimsy-looking wood and a chair on the far side, where a Petaur sat, leaning forward and observing them intently. “Mr. Felix Zino!” he said brightly. “Welcome. You may call me Mr. Hand. Just Hand, if you prefer.”
Zino didn't try to hide his snicker. These little organisations and their silly affectations like fake names and weird meeting places. It was all so quaint, he thought, like children playing make-believe. “Sure thing, Mr. Hand,” he said.
If the insult troubled Mr. Hand, he didn't show it. He opened a tablet, glanced through it, and said, “So, what can we do for you, Mr. Zino?”
“Do you know of Albert Wells?” said Zino.
Mr. Hand considered this for a moment. “Five hundred cryptcred.”
Zino stared at him.
After a second, he leaned over the desk. “Don't fuck me about,” he growled.
“We are information brokers,” Mr. Hand said. “We buy and sell information. We are not a charity. We do not answer questions without payment.”
Zino leaned back with a smirk spreading across his face. “I'll take that as a yes,” he said. “Alright. Albert Wells. I want to know his connections, who's loyal to him, what other activities he's involved in, any possible disloyalties to Sweetblade.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Hand. He thought for a moment, as if adding stuff up in his head. “Sensitive information on a high-level member of Sweetblade. Fifty-seven thousand, four hundred cryptcred.”
Zino gave the flunky a small nod, and the man stepped forward, extending a tablet. He connected the tablet to Mr. Hand's, Zino tapped in a code and gave his biometric information, and made the transfer.
“If this information is bad, I'll tear your organisation apart and make sure none of you are left alive,” Zino said.
“I promise you, all our information is good,” said Mr. Hand as he checked the transfer. When he was satisfied, he took out a separate tablet and started loading the information. “Albert Wells, a senior member of Sweetblade. Just like you. And yet he seems to be your enemy?”
“He does seem to be,” said Zino. He wasn't about to give the information brokers any more than they already knew.
“Interesting,” said Mr. Hand. He fell silent for a few minutes until he was finished. Then he gave the tablet to Zino.
Everything was there. Lists of names, profiles of several members of Sweetblade, records of dozens of criminal activities. A lot of it, Zino could personally verify. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. These people knew far more than they should about Sweetblade.
“I suppose,” he said slowly, “I should take it as given that you know all about me and my loyalties.”
“Of course. And those of your companion,” said Mr. Hand.
“And if someone came in here brandishing fifty thousand cryptcreds and wanted to know all about me, would you tell them?” Zino's hand slipped inside his jacket. If Mr. Hand quoted him anther price, he decided, he'd just shoot the bastard.
“We would tell them what we know,” said Mr. Hand.
“I thought so,” said Zino, with a friendly laugh. In a moment he had his gun out and pointed between Mr. Hand's eyes. “Thank you. Thank you! I've wanted to wipe that smug like expression off that furry face since you first opened your mouth. And now you've given me the perfect excuse! This is just clearing up loose ends, isn't it?”
The flunky pulled out his gun too.
Mr Hand's ears fell flat against his head. “I see,” he said.
There was a brief flurry of motion, and then every Petaur on the far side of the room seemed to have a weapon trained on Zino. Eight automated gun turrets had slipped out from behind pipes in the ceiling, and were also pointed at him.
“Boss?” said the flunky.
“This is a dangerous business, Mr. Zino,” said Mr. Hand. “We do take precautions. Now, you may think of this as tidying up loose ends. But I beg you to reconsider. We don't promise you loyalty, only honesty. And should you need our services in the future, well … it would be rather unfortunate if you burned your bridges now wouldn't it?”
Zino studied the situation for a few seconds, calculating the odds. Eventually he lowered his gun. “Perhaps you're right,” he said, with an obviously insincere smile. “I suppose I shall just have to hope no-one comes asking after me.”
“That's the spirit,” said Mr. Hand. “And if that's not enough, we will always tell you if someone does come asking after you. For the right price, of course.”
“Of course,” said Zino, putting his gun away. He took the tablet and stood. “I'm sure we will see each other again,” He told Mr. Hand.
“I hope so,” came the reply.
Zino headed out of the building, ignoring the obsequious doorman, and went back towards the spaceport. Yes, with this knowledge, he could do some damage. And as soon as the business with Albert We
lls was finished, his next project would be to kill this Mr. Hand. As he imagined what secrets the Petaur might release under torture, a grin crept across Zino's face.
Chapter 10: How Honourable
Her hands against the cold, wet cobbles, Olivia looked back. When she saw the car racing towards her, she went cold inside. It was armoured, and it was large enough to hold a Varanid. Indeed, a Varanid was leaning out of one window. A creepy-looking woman in a fur coat was leaning out the other. Both had guns.
That was it, then, she thought. There was no way to escape that.
Next thing she knew, a strong hand grabbed her collar and hauled her to her feet.
“In here!” Rurthk growled, dragging her to the door of a restaurant. “Stay low!” He fired back at the car as it turned towards them.
Olivia ran at a crouch alongside Eloise, and a moment later she was inside.
The restaurant was open but mostly empty. The few patrons and staff scattered as soon as they saw Rurthk's pistol.
Rurthk slammed the door. “Get her to the ship,” he told Eloise. “I'll catch up with you later.” To their left was a bar. Rurthk shot it. Then, seemingly satisfied that it could stop a bullet, swung over it.
Eloise nodded. “Good luck.”
The car screeched to a halt outside. Doors opened and slammed. There was no time for further discussion. Eloise and Olivia ran across the dining area and into the kitchen.
As Olivia left, she heard Rurthk speaking into his comm. “Mero. Get over here.” He gave the address. Then he was out of hearing range.
They moved through the kitchen, then the dimly lit corridor. Gunshots sounded behind them.
“Rurthk …” began Olivia.
“He'll be fine,” said Eloise. Her voice was strained.
They reached the end of the corridor. Eloise opened the door.
Two men stood there, guns trained on them.
Olivia stuck her hands up. Eloise did the same. The tip of her umbrella poked at the ceiling.
“Who are you people?” Eloise said, her voice trembling with fear. “ I don't mean you any harm, I promise! I was just having dinner with my little sister, and –”
“Shut it,” said one of the men. “You're with Rurthk.”
“Please don't hurt us,” said Eloise.
One of the men rolled his eyes.
The other activated his comms. “Dora? I think we've –”
There was a burst of motion, and he ended his sentence with a choking noise.
It took Olivia a moment to realise what had happened: Elise had swung her umbrella round and struck him in the throat.
He stumbled back into the other man as the other tried to fire. The shot went wide. This moment of confusion gave Eloise enough time to leap forward and wrench the pistol out of his hand and club him with it. He collapsed. The first, falling to his knees and still grasping at his throat, went down next.
Eloise shrugged. “It was worth a try. Come on.” She grabbed Olivia's hand and pulled her forward.
*
Rurthk crouched in the cover of the bar, looking down at his pistol at the door. He'd repelled the first attempt the Twins' goons had made to enter, but no doubt they'd be planning something more effective.
On the plus side, it seemed their Varanid was out of the action. Otherwise they would have struck already.
He just needed time.
“Give it up, girls!” he shouted. “You have your seeds, I have my money.
“Oh, Rurthk. I could never do that,” said one of the Twins. He couldn't tell which one. Probably Dora.
“Look, you've got your fancy new operation with glowering Varanids and folk willing to throw their lives away. Good for you, I'm impressed. Now if you want to keep it –”
And then they rushed him. The door burst open. Windows shattered – a diversionary tactic. Several goons rushed in together. Rurthk managed to take three of them down before he ran out of bullets. That gave someone enough time to leap over the bar and try to take his weapon.
Rurthk headbutted the man, knocking him out instantly. But there was another there a moment later, swinging a wrench at him. Rurthk ducked, and by a few inches, managed to avoid having his skull caved in. But the swing caught his pistol and knocked it aside.
With a roar, Rurthk grabbed the head of the wrench and shoved it back into its wielder, then twisted it out of his hands. He stood up, ready to attack.
The Twins stood by the doors, the employees lying injured or dead at their feet. They both had rifles trained on him.
“Drop it,” said Dora.
Rurthk grinned at her, bearing a full set of razor-sharp teeth. “Don't think I will.” He hefted the wrench. “If I throw this fast enough, I think I've got a fair chance of killing at least one of you.”
The Twins' eyes went to the wrench for a second.
“Oh, Rurthk,” said Dora. “Staying behind to let your crew escape.”
“Letting us live,” added Cora.
“How noble.”
“How honourable.”
“Are you going anywhere with this?” Rurthk asked them.
“This is why you're still a small time criminal,” said Dora.
“Small prey,” said Cora.
“Destined to lose,” said Dora. “The Glaber knew what life was. A fight of all against all for the top, and those left behind nothing but meat for the strong. Why would you turn against that?”
Rurthk stared at them.
“I guess it doesn't matter,” said Cora. She steadied her aim.
A loose cobble came flying through the door and smacked into Cora's head. Dora turned, and Rurthk took the opportunity to leap forward and smack her with the head of the wrench.
“I'm not that honourable,” he told her unconscious form as Mero came trotting up.
“Hey, Cap,” said Mero.
Dora lay flat on her back, breathing shallowly. Blood streamed from her nose. Mero, seeing this, picking up a pistol from the floor with his tail and threw it to his hand. He levelled it at her head.
“Don't,” Rurthk said.
Mero stared at him. “But you literally just said –”
“Let's go back to the ship,” Rurthk muttered, dropping the wrench.
Mero took a few seconds to check the Twins' for anything valuable before following.
Chapter 11: Welcome Aboard
The Outsider's bulk filled most of the park. One of its landing struts had crushed a flower bed. Rain poured off the hull in tiny waterfalls.
“We should move soon,” said Kaivon over the comms. “I believe this is a parking violation.”
Olivia stood with Eloise at the main airlock. Eloise clutched a pistol and peered out into the night. Her umbrella lay in a small puddle on the floor of the corridor.
“They'll make it,” she said, more to herself than anyone, “He'll make it.”
Olivia watched her and shivered. She wasn't sure of anything anymore. In the past ten minutes she'd attacked mobsters for the sake of people she barely knew, been shot at, chased by a car, and watched a Glaber all but sacrifice himself for herself.
And most of her stuff was still in the hotel.
Well, it was too late to worry about that now. It probably wasn't wise to stay on Hagbard.
Eloise's eyes widened. After a second she broke into a grin as Rurthk and Mero came running towards the ship.
She held her pistol ready until they reached the stairs, then reached out and helped Rurthk up, though he evidently didn't need it. Mero, following, cleared the steps in a single bound, gliding the last few feet. Then they were all inside.
“Go,” Eloise said into her comms as Mero closed the airlock.
There was a soft clacking as the stairs folded into the hull. The ship's hum changed pitch. Then they were in the air, rising quickly.
“Well,” said Rurthk, stretching. “It'll be a while before we can do business with the Twins again.”
“How many of our business partners have tried to kill us now?”
said Mero.
“Too many,” grumbled Rurthk. He turned to Olivia. “I don't think you'll want to be on Hagbard anymore. Where do you want to go? We'll take you. You've earned that much.”
Olivia stared at him. “You … you saved my life.”
“You saved ours,” said Rurthk. “Let's call it even.”
“Could I stay here?” asked Olivia.
Rurthk regarded her carefully for a few minutes. “You showed some good instincts down there. And … you know how to steal a car?”
“I , uh, yes.”
“Fire a gun?”
“Not really.”
“What else can you break into?” Eloise asked, with a smile.
Olivia swallowed. “A few things. The biggest was a factory. It was all small crime … nothing with guns.”
Rurthk and Eloise looked at each other.
“I'm all for it,” said Eloise.
Rurthk nodded. “Yes, she could be useful. You'll have to teach her to use a weapon, though.”
“Can't Mero?”
“Hey. Hey! I'm standing right here,” said Mero.
“Human hands. Human weapons,” said Rurthk, ignoring him.
“Fine. I'll teach her,” said Eloise.
Mero sighed and walked down towards the cockpit, his tail flicking back and forth.
Rurthk turned to Olivia. “Here are the conditions. Work's dangerous. What we just went through wasn't an isolated incident. Pay's rarely good. Whatever your background is, you don't have to tell anyone here unless it endangers the ship. We're called the Outsider for a reason. Finally, I'm Captain. That means you do what I say or you leave. Clear?”
Olivia couldn't help but smile. “Clear,” she said.
Rurthk shook her hand. “Welcome aboard.”
Chapter 12: Settling In
Kaivon was in the engine room, standing beside a large hole where he had removed the wall plating to reveal the guts of the ship. Beyond, a bundle of pipes carrying three types of coolant, plus hydrogen, liquid oxygen and breathable air, crossed vertically.
