“I don’t know.”
“Well, what’s the average price of a pound of bread?”
“A pound?” asked Graheim.
“One and a half credits,” said Seth.
“How easy is it to get bread around here?” asked John.
“What do you mean?” asked Graheim, “bread is as common as air.”
“So if a loaf of bread is one dollar on Earth, then the exchange rate would be one to one point five?” asked Ray.
“I guess so,” said John.
“That means our booze is worth what?”
“One hundred sixty-six dollars,” said Seth.
John smiled. “Thanks, Seth, John out. Mister Graheim, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
In a small Z'Sorth shop on the 97th floor, Ari and Richter were getting nowhere with the clerk. The shop was dark, cluttered, and smelled like drying mud. It looked like a combination of a used computer component store and a construction site. The lizard-like Z'Sorth stood six feet tall when he was standing up, which wasn’t often. He moved constantly but slowly around the store, hunched over at the neck and speaking in a low, hissing lilt. It took the Z'Sorth a long time to put together a complete sentence. Even Seth was having a hard time translating everything efficiently as Ari and Richter spoke with him. Ari hoped this wasn’t typical of the Z'Sorth.
“Okay,” Ari was saying, “if you don’t have any Glowing Soft Metal, where can we get it?”
“Umberians most wanted the Glowing,” said the clerk. “When they were covered in captivity, not much market for it. Sold off what I had, I did. No more imported from Alpha.”
“Are you saying there’s no Talvanium, I mean Glowing Soft Metal on Beta at all?”
“Mmm, yes.”
“Shit!”
“Many kinds of shit, all in air-tight sanitary containers. Sale on most.”
“Damn,” said Richter.
“Can we get the Glowing on Alpha?” asked Ari.
“The Glowing is extra from mining Hard Red Metal, Crumbly Black Ore, and even Soft Yellow Money Metal. The Glowing Soft Metal is far and wide under the earth on Alpha. Mostly we tossed in corner before Umberians asked. Now we do the same.”
“Do you know how much it’s going to cost us?”
“Last I knew, it was two credits for one fist.”
“Useful information,” said Richter.
“One fist!” said the clerk, moving behind the counter.
“Okay, we get it,” said Ari. “Thank you. Richter, I think we’re done here.”
“I agree. Let’s report back to the others.”
“One fist!” said the clerk, throwing something at Richter.
Richter caught it before it hit him in the shoulder. It was a square block of what looked like lead, not surprisingly about the size of a fist.
“It’s about five pounds,” he said.
“Now we just need to know how much Seth needs to create...”
“Ahem,” said Richter, cutting off Ari.
“The things we need.”
“Precisely. Thank you, sir,” said Richter, tossing the metal back to the clerk. “We’re all set.”
The clerk shrugged and hissed as Ari and Richter exited the shop.
“You want to call it in, or should I?” asked Ari.
Richter’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t look behind us, but I think we’re being followed.”
“What, really?”
“Uh huh. There are two Rakhar wearing black about fifteen meters behind us. The same guys were down on the loading dock, and then up on level one hundred. The third time is the charm. Keep walking until we find a friendly-looking shop. We’ll go inside and call the others.”
“Right.”
“This one will do.”
Richter and Ari entered what was clearly a cafe, with at least twenty large vats of hot liquids and a selection of baked goods. A fat, bored Rakhar sat behind the counter. Three lavishly clothed and bejeweled Kau’Rii sat at a table and spoke in animated tones. The humans pretended to look interested in the drinks. After a few moments, Richter leaned over to Ari.
“You see them?” he whispered.
“No, I still haven’t,” Ari replied.
Richter grunted, and keyed his radio. “Scherer, this is Richter, over.”
“This is John, go ahead, over.”
“We need to get together right now and discuss the situation. Have you accomplished your objectives?”
“Roger that. What’s your situation, over?”
“Negative on the objective. We may also have a Tango problem, over.”
“Roger that, Richter. Tango problem may not be yours alone. Get back to the ship ASAP, we’ll discuss the situation there. Over.”
“Roger, out.”
“Do you think it’s wise to lead these guys back to our ship?” asked Ari.
“They probably already know where we’re parked. I hope they’re meant to observe only. We can’t do a whole hell of a lot to evade them, anyway. Let’s just get back to the ship and watch our backs.”
“Okay.”
Richter led the way out of the cafe. He looked in both directions down the concourse, and took a left.
“No, it’s this way,” Ari said, turning right.
A massive Rakhar with ice blue eyes stepped out of nowhere and grabbed Ari by the neck, lifting her off of her feet with one muscular arm.
“Where do you think you’re going, little lady?” he growled.
“Hrk...” Ari said, instinctively grabbing the Rakhar’s arms.
Richter was about to turn around when a second Rakhar stepped out in front of him, a large pistol of some sort in his hand. Richter drew his sidearm with a crisp snap and centered the sights on the Rakhar’s head.
“Put her down!” he yelled. “Drop your weapon!”
Ari reached for her pistol. The Rakhar seized her right wrist with his free hand. Ari reached forward with her left hand and grabbed the handle of a large, curved combat knife in the Rakhar’s belt. She tugged at it, and it came free along with the scabbard. Ari felt her world fading away as she flipped off the scabbard and made a vicious slash across the Rakhar’s midsection. He dropped her immediately, stared in wonder as the contents of his abdominal cavity spilled out onto the shiny metal floor, and collapsed forward. Ari stepped out of the way, flicking the blood from the blade. Richter immediately fired two rapid shots at the second Rakhar, both of which struck his forehead. He, too, fell to the deck. Ari reached down, picked up the scabbard, and sheathed the knife. Richter ran to her side.
“Are you all right?” he said.
Ari coughed and spat on the ground. “Why don’t you ask him?”
The last of the sentient beings that were running away from the action disappeared, and the first of those running towards it appeared. In this case it was two more black-clad Rakhar. They raised their pistols and the air was split with bright blue flashes of energy, each shot generating a terrific electric crack like thunder. Ari and Richter dove into the cafe. A emergency klaxon began to sound throughout the complex.
“Scherer, this is Richter, enemy contact on level ninety-seven! Rakhar in black clothing armed with energy pistols! We’re coming back to the ship, double-time, over!”
“Roger that, Richter,” John replied over the commo, “We’ve got our own problems down here.”
Richter fired a few times down the concourse, striking and felling one of the Rakhar. Ari fired her own pistol twice at a floating security camera, destroying it.
“Leapfrog it,” Richter said. “Moving!”
“Move!” replied Ari.
Richter fired twice more and sprinted down the concourse away from the remaining Rakhar. Ari took his place and fired rapidly, forcing the Rakhar back behind the cover of a support pillar. She glanced behind her and saw Richter waiting at the next storefront.
“Moving,” Ari yelled.
“Move!”
Ari ran towards Richter. Two Rakhar in Empire Security uniforms appeared
from the elevators that they’d been heading for. Ari ducked into the store, noticing that it sold various kinds of electronic equipment. Richter fired at the enemy as he ran for a better position, striking one in the arm.
“Reloading,” he said, doing so.
“Security guards are between us and the elevators,” Ari said.
One of the guards spoke into a small hand-held device. His voice boomed through the public address system.
“Attention, mercenaries! This is an unauthorized corral. Cease fire immediately!”
The Rakhar in black responded by shooting the guard’s partner in the chest.
“What the frell are you doing?” the guard shrieked, drawing his pistol and diving for cover.
The mercenary and the guard began exchanging fire in earnest.
“What now?” yelled Ari over the noise.
“There!” said Richter, pointing to a small food platform parked on the edge of the concourse.
“That’s not exactly better cover.”
“Just keep that guard’s head down and move when I tell you to!”
Richter fired several times at the mercenary, forcing him behind cover. Ari did the same towards the guard.
“Now!” Richter yelled.
Ari and Richter sprinted across the concourse to the platform. They both dove over the counter, knocking over several plastic bottles of condiments and a stack of baked goods. A bewildered Residerian peered at them from within the kitchen compartment.
“Get us down to level two,” Richter ordered.
“No way.”
“Three more mercs just showed up!” Ari said.
“Get us out of here now or we’re all fragged,” Richter said.
The mercenaries shifted their attention to the food vendor. Energy shots tore into the platform. Ari returned fire briefly.
“Reloading,” she said.
Richter turned and fired towards the mercs as Ari reloaded. The Residerian crawled towards an instrument panel at the stern of the platform.
“Hurry up, damn it,” Richter growled.
The Residerian pressed a few keys and the platform shuddered. Ari was about to resume firing when the platform lurched to starboard. Richter ducked down and grabbed a bolted-down chair; Ari stumbled backward until she hit the rail. Richter’s eyes grew wide as she failed to regain her balance and tumbled over the side.
“Ari!” he screamed, diving towards the edge.
Ari’s left hand was still visible clutching the rail. Richter stood up and grabbed her arm.
“Sorry about that,” the Residerian said, and righted the platform.
Ari was attempting to holster her Glock. Richter took a deep breath and braced himself as she did so. When her right hand was free, she brought it up. Richter grabbed both hands securely. Energy bolts zipped by, and one of them grazed his right shoulder. It felt as if a barbed bullwhip had just torn a strip of flesh away.
“God damn it, you fucking idiot, get us moving now!”
The shopkeeper pressed another key, and the platform began moving downward. The sudden movement aided Richter in hauling Ari aboard.
“Thanks, Chance,” she said.
The platform had descended one level when Rakhar faces appeared looking down at them. Moments later they were replaced with energy shots. Ari drew her pistol and began returning fire. Richter glanced at his wound before joining Ari in her effort. Two shots later the slide locked back on his pistol.
“Third mag,” he said, reloading with perfect speed.
“I thought John told you to conserve your ammo,” Ari said.
“Like you are! Hey mister, do you think we could hurry this up a bit?”
The Residerian replied by getting his head perforated by enemy fire.
“Guess not,” Ari said.
“Scherer, this is Richter! We’re coming in hot! What’s your status, over?”
Above at the open top of the atrium, something large and mechanical appeared. Ari noticed it as she fired the final round from her second magazine.
“What the hell is that?” she murmured.
“Scherer, this is Richter, come in, over!”
“Richter, I think we’ve got additional problems...”
A voice came over the commo. “Richter, this is Scherer. We’re a little busy right now. Just get back to the ship as soon as you can. Out.”
“Reloading,” said Ray.
John pounded his fist against the door to an elevator. Seth translated a cheerful computerized voice that responded to his violence.
“This lift has been locked down for a security alert. Have a nice day.”
“Shit!”
John looked down at his Beretta and realized it was empty. He ejected the magazine, put it in his pocket, and retrieved a fresh one.
“Targets?” he asked.
“The one guy ran into Graheim’s shop,” Ray replied. “The two we hit are still down.”
“This whole place is basically one giant corkscrew,” said John, slapping the mag home. “If we keep running counter-clockwise we’ll eventually get to level two.”
“I don’t see another option.”
“Cover each other until we’ve gone around the curve of the concourse. Then go flat out.”
“Roger that.”
“Choose your shots carefully. I don’t want to mess up Graheim’s shop.”
Ray smiled. “Yes. His progeny will rue your name for countless generations.”
“Moving!”
“Move!”
John glanced to his left and then sprinted to his right. He ran to the next storefront and turned to cover Ray.
“Moving!” Ray said.
“Move!”
Ray ran towards John. The Rakhar poked his head out from the shop. John fired past Ray, missing the mercenary and destroying a bottle on a shelf.
“Damn it!”
“You’re supposed to wait until I’m past you!” Ray said angrily.
“What, you don’t trust my marksmanship all of a sudden?”
“Just be careful.”
“Moving!”
“Go.”
John ran for it. Ray watched the front of the liquor store. The mercenary did not appear, but Ray distinctly heard him yell something.
“Seth, did you catch that?” Ray asked.
“He said, ‘where the hell is my backup,’ I think,” Seth replied.
Beyond Graheim’s store, Ray noticed two security guards. They had their weapons drawn but were not moving.
“Come on, Ray!” John cried.
Ray turned and ran to John. He motioned for him to follow, and the two men broke into a run down the concourse.
“The security guards are just standing there.”
“They must have gotten orders not to engage.”
“Maybe because they’re Rakhar, too?”
“Maybe because they’re in on it! Let’s just be glad they’re not shooting at us as well.”
The pair ran as fast as they could. The subtle downward slope of the concourse helped somewhat, but it became immediately evident that six weeks of smoking, drinking, and sitting around aboard the Faith had compromised their stamina. As much as the simulations seemed like a good workout, they were in fact useless in that regard.
“I shoulda designed a jogging track into the ship,” John said, panting.
Blue streaks of light shot down from above within the atrium. John and Ray glanced upward and noticed a slowly descending vending platform in combat with unseen forces high above. Another object floated at the top of the atrium, silhouetted against the blue sky. It was too far away to identify.
“Richter, this is Scherer! Is that you coming down on the platform?”
“Roger that!” came the reply. “We can’t figure out how to get it to go faster, over!”
“Do your best, we’ll meet you at the ship.”
“Roger, out.”
“I wish we could help them out, they’re getting pounded,” said Ray.
�
�If the atrium was just a bit bigger we could get the Faith in here,” replied John.
“From the incoming fire it looks like the enemy is coming down the corkscrew, too.”
“Yeah, but it also looks like the platform is gaining distance on them. Christie, this is Scherer, come in!”
“I’m here,” said Christie over the commo.
“We’re going to need your help soon. Grab Dana and get to the armory. Get our rifles and bring them to the entrance to the causeway. Sling my rifle over your shoulder and have Dana do the same with Richter’s M4. You and Dana hold onto Ray and Ari’s rifles until we get there. If you catch fire, return it. Are you up to it?”
“No problem. We’ll be ready.”
“Good, Scherer out.”
John and Ray continued to run. The concourse was virtually deserted now, and most shopkeepers had closed metal shutters over their entrances. Cover was scarce and John became concerned about getting cut off. So far, it didn’t look like they were being followed. John’s lungs screamed at him and his legs felt like lead. Ray seemed to be having an equally difficult time.
“Come on, buddy, we can make it,” he said.
Ray wheezed. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Three levels to go.”
Down a side hallway, John noticed two more security guards. Again, they did not engage them.
“Security is still ignoring us,” John said.
“Fine, let them.”
John’s whole world became about running. The initial adrenaline rush of combat was starting to wear off, and his efforts were becoming agony. He cursed himself for smoking so much, even if he didn’t inhale the pipe smoke, and he cursed himself for drinking so much, even if it was far less than some aboard. He began to doubt whether or not he could make it to the ship without a break. He began to doubt whether or not he was cut out for the mission. Too much more of this, and his lack of physical fitness would kill him. What could he do? The greatest distance available for sprinting on board the Faith was about twenty yards. All he could figure now was that he had to do something. This bullshit was unacceptable. John vocalized his pain and frustration.
“Fuck it all!”
“There are the girls!” Ray exclaimed.
John looked up, and to his surprise they were almost to the causeway. Christie and Dana stood at the ready, rifles in hand. Christie waved to them. John and Ray managed one more burst of speed and reached them.
The Tarantula Nebula Page 11
