by J G Cressey
Jacobs moved on to Toker, who quickly held up his hands. “No weapons here, pal. I’m more lover than fighter.”
Jacobs glanced back at his captain, again seeming unsure.
“Well don’t look at me,” Stevenson said, beginning to sound a touch exasperated. “What does the scanner show?”
“Yes, sir, um…” Jacobs turned back to Toker and peered at the scanner’s readouts.
Toker grinned at him and pointed at his face. “I know it’s pretty lethal, but the smile’s one hundred percent attached. Gotta come with me, I’m afraid, bro.”
A brief, nervous smile snuck onto Jacobs’ face, but it did little to help him relax. Seeming satisfied, the young lad awkwardly sidestepped toward Eddy, who’d already laid two small blasters at her feet. As he directed the scanner at her, it immediately kicked up a fuss, an overly loud beep that almost caused the young man to fumble the device into the water.
After a couple of moments, Eddy let out something close to a snarl and threw another blaster—which she’d had holstered beneath her jacket—to the ground and then a combat knife from her thigh.
“All weapons,” Captain Stevenson barked impatiently over the continued beeping of the scanner.
Eddy shot him a poisonous look that could almost have been considered part of her arsenal. Then, after some encouragement from Jumper, she continued to pull out weapons until a sizable pile had developed at her feet.
Despite everything he knew of Eddy, even Cal was a little taken aback as he eyed the collection. Among other things, he spotted two pulse-tipped knuckle dusters and no less than eight miniature sting grenades.
The beeping finally stopped.
Toker turned to look at Eddy with a shake of his head. “Feel better now, do you, Ed? Bit lighter maybe? Easier to stand and walk around, is it?”
Eddy ignored him and continued to throw the nervous guard a look that was dark enough to encourage him to move on to Viktor.
The boy eyed the scanner with an amused look—the sort of expression an adult might wear when faced with a playful child wielding a plastic ray gun. Viktor pulled out an old, folded pic-slip from his pocket but withdrew no weapons. The scanner remained silent. Cal had never seen Viktor carry a weapon—with Melinda by his side day and night, there was perhaps little point—but he suspected that his young companion did indeed have a couple of surprises concealed on his person. Perhaps not typical weapons but something that might discourage your average thug.
Satisfied by the silence, Jacobs took another sidestep and looked up at Melinda, who seemed to tower over him. The young man stared at her dumbly for a moment as if hypnotized by the synthetic woman’s serene, blue eyes, but a sharp tut from his superior officer soon jolted him into the realization that his scanner was making an odd noise.
“Well, Jacobs?” Stevenson said impatiently.
“The um…the scanner seems a little confused, sir. It’s not reading her right. Faulty maybe.”
Cal shot Viktor a brief concerned glance, but the boy looked nonplussed. In fact, he was staring at Melinda expectantly, as if waiting for her to perform a trick.
There was no trick, but Melinda was feigning a particularly convincing look of alarm. “Is there something wrong with me?” she asked, sounding suitably worried. “It’s not detecting an illness, is it?”
“No no,” Stevenson blurted with a raised hand. “Nothing like that, madam. It’s not that sort of scanner.”
“Oh,” Melinda said, still appearing concerned with fingers raised to her chin. “As long as you’re sure.”
Trying not to grin, Cal gave Viktor a little nod of approval. The boy’s work on Melinda’s interaction programing, not to mention her acting skills, was really starting to pay off.
“Ok, Jacobs. Go ahead and search her.”
Jacobs shot a befuddled glance at the captain. “But the scanner’s still not—”
“With your hands, you—” Stevenson swallowed the rest of his sentence, pressing his lips tight. “Pat her down,” he said once his temper allowed.
“I’ll do it if you like, sir,” the cocky recruit said eagerly.
Seemingly too annoyed to answer, the captain simply raised a silencing hand.
“Is this really necessary, Captain?” Cal asked. “I understand you’ve a job to do, but I promise we’ve come here with honorable intentions. And if your city is as benign as you say, then we are quite content to enter unarmed. As for Melinda, I think we can all see that she’s carrying no weapons.” Cal looked pointedly at Melinda to drive home the fact that she was wearing a tight-fitting body suit without a single pocket. Not only that but she was still looking convincingly upset by the scanner’s continued beeps.
Stevenson nodded again, his frustration fast subsiding to fatigue. It was a look Cal had seen a lot of late—people trying to retain a semblance of order and normality amid a building threat of chaos. “Okay. My men will help you secure all of your weapons aboard your ship before we escort you in.” He glanced at Jacobs, who was busily attempting to reattach the scanner to his belt like it was the beginning of some complex puzzle. “Think you’ll be able to manage that, Jacobs?”
Jacobs straightened up and nodded with a good deal of renewed effort to look confident and competent. But the look was short-lived as his scanner fell off his belt and clattered noisily to the deck.
Stevenson sighed and briefly massaged his temples before turning back to Cal. “When I say men, please understand that I use the term loosely.”
Chapter 4 Fincher
Captain Stevenson and his two recruits guided Cal and the rest of his crew through the northern portion of the city, hastily leading them along beautifully crafted corridors of curved metal and long oval windows that revealed the watery world beyond. Every inch of the glass was spotless and every stylized, brass and silver fixture buffed to a flawless, shimmering gleam. People milled about at a slow amble—a pace often set by the very rich who had all they desired and little left to do other than indulge—or, indeed, the very poor who had no money, no hope, and nothing to live for. Only the former graced these corridors.
They passed through a couple of large atriums, their glass ceilings high enough to break the surface of the water and allow unimpeded sunlight to pour through. A variety of fountains and statues were on display, the craftsmanship of each something to behold. Cal found himself most impressed by a sculpture made from a series of the biggest shells he’d ever seen. The shells looked real, and considering the planet they were on, he had no reason to doubt it. Mermaids of marble were emerging from each shell, huge pearls nestled in their palms. From a distance, the piece might have appeared tacky, but as they passed close by, the incredible craftsmanship was enough to demolish any such claim.
“I won’t be ignored, Fincher! I won’t bloody well be ignored.”
Captain Stevenson had led Cal and the others to a large, round door where a big, bearded man was busily shouting at the top of his considerable lungs. His arms were wide, and his nose was practically touching the door’s smooth metal surface. The big fellow seemed adamant he wouldn’t be ignored, and considering the volume of his booming voice as it echoed off down the curved corridors, Cal was fairly confident he’d get his wish. There was a guard attempting to restrain the burly man but was failing miserably.
“Come on, Jim; do me a favor and calm down, eh?” the guard asked with an edge of desperation. “You’ll get me fired if you don’t calm down.”
Red-faced, the bearded man turned from the door and, seeming oblivious to Cal and the others, glared down at the pleading guard.
“Fired! Fired will be the least of your problems when you’re dead.”
The guard looked a little taken aback, then anger quickly followed. “Are you threatening me, Jim?”
The bearded man let out a small, slightly hysterical laugh. “I’m surrounded by morons,” he said, looking up to the ceiling. “Of course I’m not bloody threatening you. I’m trying to warn you.” He turned back to the close
d door and bellowed, “I’m trying to warn all of you.” And with that, he roughly barged his way past them, shaking his head and knocking young Jacobs on his backside as he went.
“He seems a little upset,” Cal pointed out helpfully to Captain Stevenson.
“That’s nothing to concern you,” Stevenson said as he indicated for Jacobs to get up and straighten his uniform.
“You sure about that?” Cal replied. “Seemed it might have been.”
The captain eyed him briefly as if weighing up whether to discuss the issue but remained silent. Turning away, he shared a nod with the guard before pressing his palm against the door’s entry panel. Like most of the doors they’d seen so far, this one was made up of a series of silver and brass-colored discs that rotated at various speeds until they’d all slid smoothly aside. In truth, it seemed more a mechanical work of art than a door. Once the performance was finished, Stevenson ushered them all through into a windowless room filled with consoles and work stations, all of which were manned by uniformed personnel.
Captain Stevenson and his two young recruits swiftly took up positions around the outer edge of the room and stood in identical stances that seemed far more ceremony than tactical. As in many cities of this calibre, Cal noted the importance of the security looking the part rather than knowing the part to the point that if anything were to actually happen, he suspected there’d be a fair bit of flinching, surprised stumbling, and eventually clumsy drawing of pistols.
Other than Stevenson and his two lackeys, there was only one other man on his feet. Keeping his back to them, the man busily moved from one workstation to the next, studying readouts and muttering instructions to the operators. Cal had the distinct impression that the man was making a concerted effort to ignore them—possibly a pathetic show of superiority.
Finally, the man turned around. He was middle-aged, slim, and like the rest wore a uniform. His, however, was far more adorned—so much, in fact, that it bordered on ostentatious. He had sharp features and small, piercing eyes, which he quickly directed at Stevenson. “Captain,” he snapped, his tone just as puffed up as his posture. “If that man comes shouting at my door one more time, put him in the brig. That was his last strike.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned his attention to his new arrivals. “Who’s in charge?” he asked sharply, eyeing each of them in turn.
Christ, what a prick, Cal thought. Even the owner of Magnet City, Aaron Hogmeyer, had at least faked courtesy. Cal stepped forward. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“The ship,” the man said clicking his fingers a few times. “Which one of you’s in charge of the ship that came in?”
Cal sighed. This sounded familiar. “Why does our ship interest you?”
The man tugged at his uniform, even though it was already perfectly straight, and took a step toward Cal. “I’m looking to take on more men,” he said, looking Cal up and down. “I need to increase my security detail. And your ship may be of use in that regard too. If you impress me, I’ll give you a shot. You all have resumes, I presume?”
Cal couldn’t help but smile. Was the idiot serious? “I’m not sure I have mine with me. You, Jumper?”
“Mislaid.”
The man tutted and snapped up his arm to check his watch. Cal stared at the little device in surprise. Anything even resembling a watch had gone out of fashion generations ago, replaced by datapads that clung and adjusted to the wrist almost like a second skin. Sometimes, the brave—or possibly reckless—took it a step further by opting for a digi-lens on the eye or a shallow implant linked directly to the brain. But it had been a long while since he’d seen a watch, and this one looked the genuine article—truly ancient rather than some crudely printed knock off. Considering where they were, Cal wouldn’t have been surprised if it was indeed genuine; owning certain objects from the past had become an obsession of the rich to bolster their status. The age and condition usually dictated the worth. Cal had known two veterans who’d owned bona fide Samurai swords and had personally witnessed them turning down an offer of five million credits for each sword.
“Barker, commence the south section pump test,” the man said without even bothering to look at the person he was addressing. He waited for a verbal acknowledgement then glanced at Jumper and Toker. “I wouldn’t usually waste my time considering those without resumes, but the current state of play may require it. Those of you who make the grade will have to undergo rigorous training, of course, and if you don’t prove your worth quickly, I won’t hesitate to send you on your way.”
Cal couldn’t help but turn to the others with a grin; it was either that or punch the man in the face.
“As for the women and the child, I could possibly find them work in one of the restaurant kitchens. But no promises.”
A little too eager in his response to the man’s comment, Viktor ended up in a coughing fit.
Eddy took a step forward. “You saying I can’t fight, mister?”
The man pointed his long, sharp nose at her. “Security is for grown men,” he stated, seeming surprised that the fact should even be in question.
Eddy looked ready to pounce, but instead, she hesitated and lowered her gaze to the floor. “I guess you’re right.” Her response would have been surprising enough even without the sweet smile she wore as she looked back up. “But I’d be happy for any other role you could find me.” She moved forward and offered the man her open palm. “I’m Edwina, by the way.”
“Okay!” Cal said quickly as he sidestepped to block Eddy’s path and encouraged her cybernetic arm down. They’d already had to deal with the consequences of one crushed hand when the mayor’s wife on Arrubia had rubbed Eddy the wrong way. She’d been holding back on that occasion, but Cal didn’t fancy this idiot’s chances. “We didn’t come here looking for jobs,” Cal explained. “We came to help you out with your little problem. No pay necessary…and you can forgo any rigorous training.”
The man stiffened and instantly went from looking irritated to suspicious. “Who told you about the problem?”
Cal raised an eyebrow at that. Did the prick actually have a sense of humor? His expression suggested not. “Well, it’s a little hard to miss… The big bastard’s sat right on top of your city.”
The man stared at him for a moment then shook his head and went back to checking his watch. “You’re wasting my valuable time.”
Cal was starting to feel a little confused. “Am I missing something here?”
“I imagine you’re missing a lot,” the man said, flicking his eyes toward a nearby screen. Then, as if it were a great inconvenience, he turned his attention back to Cal. “All you need to know is that an offer has been presented. An offer for some of you to prove your worth. If you’re successful, you will have the opportunity to work and reside in one of the most prestigious cities ever created.”
Cal’s urge to force feed the man his precious little time device was overshadowed by his curiosity—but only just. “Am I right in thinking there was a different problem? Have you been—”
The man held up a finger as he turned his attention to a colleague who’d approached with a portable screen. Cal’s temper began to rise as the man turned his back on him and spent some time quietly discussing the contents of the screen.
“How’s about we just leave them to it, Cal?” Jumper suggested quietly as he came to stand by his side. “They don’t seem overly worried about the beast. Perhaps they have it under control.”
“I’m not so sure,” Cal said, forcing his temper back down. “Anyway, this asshole has piqued my curiosity. Something else has happened here.” Please god, let it be pirates.
“How’s about I just shake his hand,” Eddy suggested in hushed tones. “Just one little squeeze; then, we’ll bugger off.”
“Maybe in a bit, Eddy,” Cal suggested, surprised that he actually meant it.
“Your allotted time is up,” the man barked without bothering to face them. “I need a decision.”
Cal eyed
the man for a moment and tried to keep his tone calm. “We’re interested, but we need a day or so to think it over. We’ll have to check the city is to our liking.”
“You have one hour,” the man replied. He checked his watch yet again, which made Cal wonder just how much time the asshole wasted looking at it. “Stay clear of the Central Dome. I don’t want you bothering any of the residents. Then, report back here at fifteen hundred hours. I can assure you there’ll be no second chances if you’re late.” Giving no chance for a reply, he ordered them out of the room.
“I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” Cal said to Jumper once they were herded out of the room.
Jumper nodded and led the gang away as Cal doubled back and approached the young guard who’d had trouble with the big, bearded man earlier.
“Hey, how you doing?” Cal said with a cheery smile and an offered palm. “I’m Callum.”
The guard flinched and looked a bit taken aback, enough to make Cal wonder whether he’d overcooked the cheeriness; it was doubtful anyone was ever cheery after leaving that room.
“I got the job,” Cal said, keeping his hand out but dialing down the chirp. “Seems we’ll be on the same team.”
The guard looked a little confused and shot a nervous glance back at the now closed door before apprehensively shaking Cal’s hand.
“I guess with the recent trouble, the more on the team, the better, eh?”
The man nodded. “I’m, er, I’m not really supposed to talk at this post.”
