Chapter 16: Jak
Jak waited until he heard the lock click before walking down the corridor. No one was around as he passed through the lobby and paused at the top of the steps leading to the street. The early morning was full of blue-violet shadows and the sounds of the city coming awake. He remembered the bones and the darkness of mobbies’ box and shuddered. He had to get Tessa out of there!
Even at this hour, the dry heat from the morning sun burned his back through his clothes and filled the air with a smell like hot metal and scorched stone. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, he ignored the heat, ignored ache in his muscles and the lingering queasiness in his stomach, and hurried toward the covered ways that led to the market.
Once he entered the shadowy, covered passages near the market, the temperature was more bearable. Crowds of people pressed body to body, but no one minded the casual contact. Passing by stalls on either side of him, Jak ignored the cries of the vendors. He wasn’t interested in jewelry of dubious authenticity, old clothes, pots and pans, or god images guaranteed to cure all ills. He looked around for a moneylender’s booth. He found one quickly, but had to settle for eight-hundred credits in smaller units in exchange for Tessa’s thousand. But it would be too noticeable to spend the high denomination squares in the market. He still had enough, he told himself, and it was the best deal he could make in the limited time he had. Slipping the change into a vest pocket different from the one that hid the rest of the credits, he headed straight for the weapons mart. The Alpha still had his knife. No way was he going back to face the mobbies unarmed, and he’d better find weapons for the trip and knives to pay the mobbies.
The weapons mart was quieter than the other quarters. Here, both buyers and vendors took their wares seriously. No hawkers called. No one jostled for the best bargain. Jak passed by the collections of blasters, needlers, and knives spread out on colored cloths. The blasters and needlers in those piles were likely to be defective and the knives dull. He needed better and, for once, he could afford better.
The more prosperous merchants had large tents with bright flags flying over their entrances. Choosing one of those, Jak pushed aside the red and blue striped flap that covered the entryway and stepped into the dim interior. Inside, he smelled the familiar odors of metal and plastic and the crisp ionized snap of air burned by recent blaster fire. This merchant, like many, had a small firing range set up at the rear of the tent, just a box with dura-steel walls, ceiling, and floor to keep any stray shots from going through the canvas and crisping any nearby customers. There, a prospective client could assure himself of the accuracy and quality of the weapon before buying.
There were ten customers in the shady tent. The merchant glanced up at Jak as he entered, touched his ear, then with an agreeable smile returned his attention to the man beside him, who was examining an expensive and ornate needler. Two assistants watched everyone to make sure that none of the merchandise wandered out without payment. Jak, in his ragged, dirty clothes and conspicuously empty bag, knew he had had prompted the merchant’s signal. Now the chief assistant hurried over, unsure from his expression whether to greet Jak as a potential buyer or throw him out as a potential thief. Jak preferred to let his money do the talking. He held up a blue twenty-credit square. The assistant bowed.
He was a short, thin man wearing plain gray trousers and a simple white tunic. He saved his vanity for his long, black hair, which was arranged in the ornamented curls favored by the fashionable. He was no match for the old jeweler that Jak had dealt with earlier, but he still sparkled with every motion of his head.
"What can I do for you today, Noble Sir?" he inquired as he pocketed the blue square.
Noble Sir! But he had the assistant’s cooperation, at least for the moment.
"I’d like to make a purchase. In private."
The assistant understood at once. Customers in the weapons mart often preferred to keep their business to themselves.
"Come this way, please."
He pushed aside a curtain and led Jak out an opening at the side of the main tent. They entered a smaller area that was hung with luxurious silks in many shades of blue and carpeted in soft, brightly patterned rugs. Jak dropped down onto a comfortable pile of cushions, and the chief assistant sat opposite him. Jak kept his cloak on with the hood up to hide his red hair and shade his ruined face. It was rude, but he was sure the weapons dealer had seen worse.
"Talik n’Choi, at your service, Noble Sir," the chief assistant said. He brought his hands together in front of his face in polite greeting.
Jak was sure the man wasn’t n’anything. If he were, he wouldn’t be working in the weapons mart. Still, he could flatter the fellow’s vanity at no cost to himself.
"Huru n’Kay," Jak replied, returning the greeting. It was the name of the hero of a well-known legend. The chief assistant smiled to show that he appreciated the irony behind Jak’s choice of name.
"And how may I help you today, Noble Sir?"
"I need weapons," Jak said, getting to the point. He wanted to get this over with and free Tessa as soon as possible. "Two blasters with spare charges. Maybe a needler. And knives. Three top quality knives and a dozen of the cheapest you’ve got."
"Of course."
n’Choi opened a chest near him and pulled out a tray lined in dark blue velvet. A series of blasters was arranged across it. All were beautiful, with elegant designs chased into the grips. Jak picked up one and checked it. The charge was nearly gone. The barrel had cracked and been inexpertly mended, and the grip was awkward. He put it down and picked up another. It was no better.
"Very pretty," he said. He didn’t have time to waste on drawn out haggling. "But I didn’t come here for toys. Now, how about showing me some real weapons?"
"Certainly, Noble Sir."
The pretty but useless blasters were removed without a word of apology. Now they understood one another, and n’Choi knew Jak wasn’t interested in flashy trash. The assistant opened another chest. The blasters he set before Jak this time were plain, efficient, and deadly. Jak chose two, taking time to make sure the charges were full, the barrels in good shape, and the crystals clear. Over the course of the next half-hour, he added a needler for Kamura, spare charges for the blasters, three good knives, and a dozen cheaper ones for the mobbies. He wasn’t sure whether Kamura would be able to use the needler, but even if she couldn’t, it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra weapon. It took far too many minutes to bargain n’Choi down to a reasonable ninety credits, but at last, it was done, and Jak the tent an armed man. It felt good.
He tucked one of the good knives into his boot and stowed everything else away in the black bag. Jak spent another hour buying food for the mobbies, purchasing small quantities here and there so as not to attract attention. He was sweating with impatience by the time he finished. The food went into the bag with the weapons. Mostly, he bought sweets, dried lamnan meat, and some fresh fruit.
And he bought a large bottle of tranquilizers.
He was about halfway back to the Tessa’s place when he spotted n’Tau the Gambler across the crowd in one of the covered ways. If he weren’t so tall, he wouldn’t have seen the Gambler; but neither would n’Tau have seen him. Without hesitation, the Gambler shoved his way through the crowd toward Jak.
Jak ducked down the nearest alley, a narrow space that ran between the building that housed the cloth maker’s guild and an abandoned warehouse. The Gambler would have to cross the busy street to reach the entrance. Feet thudding, Jak ran flat out, leaping the battered remains of a wheeled cart, tripping once over a crumbling chunk of adobe, but catching his balance and racing on. He’d been through here before, and he knew the alley made a sharp dogleg to the right about halfway down. If he could reach the turn before n’Tau caught up to him, he had a chance to make it out the end of the alley and get lost in the crowd before the Gambler could see whi
ch direction he’d gone.
Heart pounding, he ran on. He couldn’t risk leading n’Tau back to Kamura and giving him a chance to finish the job he’d bungled three days ago. The Terran had yet to authorize payment of their fee. If Kamura died, there’d be no credits to get Tessa off Shadriss. He heard the slap of feet behind him. The Gambler was quick! Blood racing, breath rasping, Jak pounded down the alley with n’Tau only steps behind. Gray fog at the edge of his vision told him that Kishee’s poison had weakened him even more than he’d thought, but Jak kept running.
The dogleg was just ahead. He slowed to round the corner, took three long strides, and skidded to a halt as the alley abruptly ended in a wall of debris. His feet slid out from under him, and he landed on his ass in the dirt. This part of the alley wasn’t much wider than his shoulders, and the entire side of the abandoned warehouse had slumped off its dura-steel framework. It blocked the way with a pile of debris nearly three times Jak’s height. Clawing in the bag for the blaster that he’d bought only moments ago, Jak staggered up and whirled to face n’Tau, but the Gambler was ahead of him. Knife already out, he came in fast, slicing low. The blade cut across the back of Jak’s right hand and knocked the blaster away before he could get a good grip on it. The weapon went spinning into the rubble, and Jak leaped back from another slash that would have spilled his guts in the dirt.
First blaster gone, there wasn’t a chance to reach for another weapon in the bag. Leaning away, Jak reached for the knife in his boot. He had no time for this, not with Tessa in mobbie hands. n’Tau tossed his own knife from hand to hand, making it hard for Jak to guess the direction of his next attack. Coughing, choking, on the cloud of dust his fall had stirred up, Jak peered through watering eyes.
The Gambler paused to brush a bit of dirt of the gray silk sleeve of his tunic. It was an act of contempt, showing that he had no fear of Jak. In truth, n’Tau looked pleased. He was savoring the moment.
"You shouldn’t have crossed Bolon. You pissed off the boss, man with no clan."
Man with no clan, it was the worst insult on Shadriss. Jak shifted, trying for more stable footing. The narrow space was lumpy with crumbled adobe bricks and rotten mud mortar.
"Yeah? Well, I’m about to piss him off more by killing his favorite errand boy."
n’Tau laughed, a short, hard bark devoid of humor. He tossed back his dandy’s braids and curls.
"How are you planning to kill me? Drown me in your own blood?" ’Tau lunged, and Jak barely managed to parry. "He’s put out a reward for you, one big enough to cover every gambling debt I’ve got."
He slashed again.
Jak tried a lunge of his own and wound up with a shallow slice that ran from elbow to wrist.
"I thought he wanted me to kill that woman for him."
n’Tau flashed white teeth in a parody of a smile.
"The boss was just rattling your chain, outlander. He should’ve finished you then, but he’s got such a hard on for you that he can’t think straight. He only went after the woman to get to you."
To get to him? Bolon went after Tessa to hurt him? Jak felt a roll of nausea.
"Right," he said. "Like a Hired Companion thinks I’m anything more than the guy who takes out the trash."
"Hey, nobody cares what a whore thinks, not even one as expensive as her. But Bolon knows what you think. Hell, it’s all over your face every time you look at her. That’s what counts with the boss."
Jak scowled. So much for his ability to hide what he felt. He’d worry about that later. Right now, he had to finish this fight and finish it fast.
The Gambler struck again, and now blood ran down Jak’s right leg. He stumbled against the wall and more rubble showered down on him. Jak spat out mud and steadied himself. n’Tau was playing with him, just having a good time.
"You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that. No brains, but plenty of nerve."
n’Tau’s knife flicked in and out. Another sting of pain, another warm trickle of blood. He was worse than that mobbie Alpha.
"When I get done with you, scar face, I’ll go pay your little whore a visit."
"No."
"I’ll make sure the boss knows that I told you about it before I finished you. Might get me a bonus."
He couldn’t let n’Tau find Kamura at Tessa’s place. He couldn’t leave Tessa for the mobbies. He had to win this fight. Jak was sure they were about equal in speed, but n’Tau’s skill with the knife far outstripped his own. There wasn’t much room to maneuver. They were face to face, no room even to circle for advantage. All Jak had on his side was his freakish strength and utter desperation.
n’Tau feinted with a low slash to Jak’s right thigh. Jak jumped back, and n’Tau followed him. His blade snaked upward, going for Jak’s throat. Jak parried and made a sharp jab to n’Tau’s lean belly. n’Tau twisted away, leaping back with Jak’s fingers barely brushing the silk of his tunic.
n’Tau darted forward again, and Jak felt a sharp sting as the knife nicked his forehead. Blood ran into Jak’s eyes. Cursing, he raised a hand to wipe it away and saw the blur of n’Tau coming at him again. This time, Jak felt a delicate slash on his chest, just below his heart, and he felt the warm trickle of blood running down his bare skin.
n’Tau laughed.
Jak was fast, but n’Tau was faster. Somehow, he had to bring the fight to a point where speed and skill didn’t count. He had to make it a matter of strength and endurance, and soon, or n’Tau would kill him one delicate cut at a time. And both women would die.
Jak thrust at n’Tau and, by luck, nicked the gambler’s arm. n’Tau’s heel came down on a brick as he jumped away, and he staggered, almost falling; but he was up again before Jak could take advantage of the slip. n’Tau grinned and lunged again. Jak barely escaped him. Jak’s knife handle was slippery with his own blood, but n’Tau appeared to be having no trouble.
In desperation, Jak slammed his shoulder into the crumbling wall of the warehouse. He threw his left arm over his head as adobe bricks fell in chunks around them. Dust filled the air in a choking, blinding cloud. The dust clung to the blood on his face, making a thick mud that he wiped at desperately. Coughing, he looked for the Gambler. Debris now filled the alley almost hip-deep. n’Tau’s speed wouldn’t count for much under these conditions, and the Gambler knew it. He snarled and lunged; but he, too, was breathing dust and nearly blinded. Jak jumped to one side, coughing, pushing his way through the mess. It was tough for him to move, even with his unnatural strength; it would be much more difficult for the Gambler. Still, n’Tau floundered after him.
Jak slipped and fell to his knees, dust filling his throat. A fresh fall of rubble left him half buried. More of the wall fell until he had only one arm free. But it was his knife arm. His left side was buried up to his neck in dirt and rubble. Blood and dust blinded him.
He heard n’Tau stagger toward him; heard the Gambler slipping and sliding through the dirt, heard him cough, heard his wheezing breath. Jak gave a great heave and pulled himself free just as n’Tau reached him. n’Tau’s knife burned past his ribs. Jak’s blade went home in the Gambler’s heart, and n’Tau fell against him. The other man dropped his knife. The blade fell, cool and useless now, down Jak’s leg. His arms went around Jak’s waist, and his face slid down over Jak’s bloody chest. Jak caught him as he fell, and n’Tau glared up at him.
"Boss should have finished . . . ." he whispered.
Like a shadow, a bewildered expression passed across his face and then the shadow was gone, taking n’Tau with it.
His wounds burning as the adrenaline wore off, Jak lowered the Gambler’s body to the earth. He pulled his knife out of n’Tau’s chest and wiped it on the man’s fine silk shirt. Jak sheathed the blade in his boot agan. He bent over the bloody body in the alley and closed its staring eyes. As he did so, memories crashed over him. He knelt shaking, alone and
defenseless as the past cascaded down upon him.
I sit alone at a battered table in a nameless bar, a man on the run with nowhere left to go. I drink too much ale as I wait for my client to come back with the money. I don’t know whether he’ll pay me or kill me. At this point, I hardly care. I’m not guilty. That’s the only thought in my head. But my brother—my lying, cheating, gambler of a brother—has convinced everyone of my guilt.
Disgusted, I look around the bar, searching for any distraction from my own thoughts. And here is my client with his oddly silent partner. I look up at the two men, one medium height with smooth regular features and cunning eyes. The partner is the taller of the two, is taller than I am, and twice as wide. He has a blank face that says nothing much happened behind his eyes. He wears a neat beard below a shaved head.
"Time to go," the client says, and there is something in his expression that makes me uneasy. But what choice do I have? My pockets are empty. I haven’t been paid yet, and this man offers hard credits. I can’t use an electronic transfer. I need those little plastic squares. And for what? So I can continue running? Running from nowhere to nowhere, that’s all that’s left for me. I rise to my feet, stumbling a little as the ale hits me. I’m not used to drinking, and I’ve guzzled more than my share tonight.
We go out into the hot darkness. It’s night, and neither of the moons is up. Yet, even this late, the air is hot and humid. I hate this stinking world.
"The ground-car is over here," the client says. Taking my arm, he steers me around the side of the building. It’s dark in the side street, alley really. Some small voice in the back of my mind is telling me that this is a strange place to park a ground-car. Why doesn’t he have his partner bring it around to the front entrance?
But by the time the rest of my brain catches up, it’s too late to do me any good. The partner shoves me against the nearby wall and pins me there. I try to throw the big man off, but my feet slip on the sandy surface. He’s strong, stronger I am, stronger than any man ought to be. Then the client is on me, too. It looks like the cheap bastard is aiming to get out of paying me. But worse happens. The client shoves his face into mine. His hand under my chin forces fingers into my jaw, forces my mouth open. Abruptly, the client’s face is on mine; the client’s tongue is in my mouth. Oh, crap! I have nothing against sex between consenting adults, but I definitely do not consent to this!
Gagging, I struggle, but the two men hold me easily. I can hold my own in a fight. I’d had plenty of training in hand-to-hand combat, but these two are incredibly strong. Quickly, the client’s face moves away from mine. It’s hard to tell by the dim light in the alley, but the man seems to be looking at me expectantly. What the hell does he . . . ?
And then it begins; a creeping sense of otherness at first. A sense of something moving, tasting, inside my head. This isn’t a rape, I realize, at least not in the usual way. I feel the alien something growing within me. I thought they were human, both of them. I thought wrong.
I feel it when it reaches my brain. Like a visitor to an unfamiliar house, it begins flipping switches and opening doors at random. My breathing stops. My skin is on fire and then drips sweat at the same time. I start breathing again, but now I’m blind. My muscles are suddenly like jelly, and only the two men holding me keep me upright. Then I can see again, and I can stand, although I feel weak as a newborn. But the worst is when it starts sorting through my memories. The client leans over me, nose to nose, staring into my eyes as if he can see what was going on inside my head. Hell, I can see what was going on in the client’s head. I see it through the thing that has invaded me, through this alien connection.
Reality returned like waking from a dream, a deep dream that had almost drowned him. Jak shuddered. This time, he was sure that the memories had been his own. Something alien had invaded his body. The bigger man’s face had seemed almost familiar, but the memory was lost in a wave of nausea as he gagged, retching into the dirt, rejecting the alienness that had been thrust into him. Panting, he leaned against the wall until the dizziness and sickness passed. He shuddered again and again, as sweat dripped down his face and neck.
At last, he wiped a shaking hand across his mouth and straightened. This was no time for memories or weakness. He had to reach Tessa. He’d think about what this meant later. Most of the dust had cleared, and he found the black bag nearby. He scooped up the bag and checked the contents. For once, he was in luck; everything was still inside. He found the blaster he’d pulled on n’Tau half buried in the rubble and stuffed it into the back waistband of his pants. Better late than never; he wouldn’t be caught with it out of reach again. He shook the dirt off his cape and pulled up the hood. Staggering a little, he walked back the way he’d come. The alley seemed much longer now without n’Tau on his heels.
So, n’Tau was dead, no more watching for the Gambler at his back. He should have felt relief, maybe even satisfaction at defeating his enemy, but all he felt was a desperate desire to have this over with. Cautiously, Jak emerged in the market where he’d left it. No one noticed the muddy blood on his face and clothes. Nobody cared. He pressed through the crowds, heading for Tessa’s apartment, weaving as he walked. The fight, the lost blood and lack of sleep, the mobbie poison, the days of fear and anger had drained even his strength. But worst of all was the memory that had come welling up from his past. Despite the heat, the cold sweat of shock still dripped down his face and back.
The lobby was empty. Jak climbed the stairs with one hand against the wall to brace himself. When he reached the top, the hall seemed to blur and twist. Bent over like an old man, he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, the walls had steadied. The floor lay flat before him. He shook himself and straightened, heading for Tessa’s apartment. The blood on his hand smeared the card key so that he had to try twice. At last, the door slid open, and Jak staggered inside. Kamura sat up on the sofa where she’d been resting.
"Jak! You did come back. I’d almost given up—"
She broke off and stared. He dropped the pack on the floor and managed to get the door shut before his knees buckled. Kamura ran across the room to catch him, but he was too heavy for her. All she could do was help ease him to the floor.
"What happened?"
"n’Tau saw me."
The room spun around him, and the light faded. Kamura’s voice was coming from very far away.
"What about n’Tau? What happened?"
"Dead. Killed him."
He felt her peel off his cloak, felt her open his ruined vest, her cool fingers on the burning wound on his chest. Soft fingers pulled the blaster away from his back. He heard her drop to the floor next to him. Her knees brushed against the wound on his ribs and winced.
"Don’t try to move," she commanded. "I’ll get the med-kit."
Jak didn’t have the strength to disobey. He felt completely used up, still ill from the mobbie poison, wounded in a dozen places, exhausted from three days almost no sleep, he could deal with all that. No, it was memory of the assault on his mind that was the most painful. He closed his eyes. Something had tried to eat him! And it had almost succeeded. His memory was gone, his mind left with a disorder of stranger’s lives. What had done this? The client and his partner had looked human, but something else had moved their bodies.
Jak opened his eyes as Kamura bent over him, cleaning the slashes on his chest and the fresh gash on his forehead. She was getting better at it, he noted, as his thoughts began to drift. Tessa, he remembered, had to get to Tessa.
"Stim," Jak mumbled.
His lips felt numb. He had trouble controlling his tongue.
"Stim. Med-kit."
"You don’t need a stimulant. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you should rest."
"Stim. Now."
He didn’t know if he said the words or only thought them. Did Kamura understand?
Just how much of this could his body take?
"Tessa. Have to get Tessa back. No time."
He drifted on a gray cloud in a dark room. When he focused again, Kamura’s frightened face floated above him. He heard a clatter as she dumped the contents of the med-kit on the floor beside him. He knew she was searching through the clutter, but it didn’t seem to matter any longer. He closed his eyes.
Omniphage Invasion Page 16
