by M. D. Cooper
He’d achieved one of his greatest goals—to be president of the Gedri Freedom Alliance. He controlled the entire star system…in no small part to her work behind the scenes.
And this is how he rewards me?
Despite her rage, Francis knew that she had few options but to obey Maverick. Though he appeared to rely on her for all sorts of information, she knew that he secretly cross-checked much of what he was told. The fact that he’d survived for so long in the cutthroat world of Gedri’s crime syndicates was testament to his paranoia.
He saw threats everywhere, and eliminated them with extreme prejudice.
Acting against him was beyond foolhardy, it was inviting a death sentence.
Still, she pushed herself up straight and began to walk toward the airlock where she’d meet Sylvia. There must be a way. There must. And if I can’t break free from him, then I’ll find a way to kill us both.
She held in a laugh, knowing that he might be watching and listening through the ship’s internal sensors. The knowledge that he probably was checking up on her only galvanized her resolve.
She was unshakable.
She hoped.
HARD DAY’S NIGHT
STELLAR DATE: 09.30.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: City of Montral, Jericho
REGION: Gedri System, Gedri Freedom Alliance
Kal slouched down the dark alley in Montral’s Ventralla District, long cloak obscuring his form, and hood hiding his face.
A light drizzle was falling, and the ground was wet—slick from the grease and slime in the alley, getting enough moisture to begin to ooze toward the closest drain.
He wondered if that was why it rained in Montral to begin with. The city was under a dome, so it wasn’t as though they were at the mercy of any planetary weather—of which there was little on Jericho. The idea that the periodic rain existed only to wash a bit of filth off the city amused him. It was just the sort of thing that would pass for normal in the degenerate place.
“Hey, Al,” he said as he passed a garbage bin, nodding to the man who lived next to it, for some definition of the word ‘lived’.
“Screw you, Kal,” the man grunted.
Kal only laughed, tossed a credit chit in the bum’s direction, and kept walking. He’d never known Al to have a single nice word to say to anyone, but that didn’t have any bearing on Kal’s generosity.
Not that it was entirely altruistic. A lot of shit went down in Ventralla. Shit that affected half the cases Kal worked. Having extra eyes on the street never hurt—more than once, he’d gotten key intel from folks in Al’s position
Never from Al, but there might come a day.
He turned his focus back to the end of the alley, where a single light hung above a windowless door. There was no sign because one wasn’t needed. Everyone who needed to already knew about the Yucatan.
Kal wished he didn’t need to know, but there wasn’t much he could do about that anymore. This was where his life had led, and it was up to him to make the most of it.
He reached the door and passed it an encrypted token over the Link. Nothing happened for almost a minute, and then it finally opened, and he stepped through into the dark stairway.
To the best of his knowledge, no human reviewed the token, and the door was in good repair—though it didn’t look it. So far as he could tell, the delay in opening was a random wait time someone had programmed into the auth system to mess with people.
Either that, or they programmed it in just to mess with me.
Kal wouldn’t put it past the Yucatan’s proprietors. They didn’t really like him that much, but they tolerated him because he’d helped so many of Ventralla’s citizens out of tight binds.
He reached the bottom of the stairs, once again facing a windowless door. This one also took a token to open, and he listened to the dull thud of music and muffled conversation passing through it while the system took its time deciding whether or not he was worthy.
Finally, the door opened, blasting him with the Yucatan’s sound, sight, and smell.
The main room wasn’t large, just a hair over twenty by forty meters. The bar occupied the far end of the room, stools bolted to the floor lining the space in front of it. The rest of the space was filled with tables that had seen better days, few of which matched the others.
The denizens matched even less. From the flamboyant pilots of the Jara Guild to the thugs who worked the East Side Docks outside the dome, all kinds found their way to the Yucatan. The one common bond was that everyone here was willing to do something on the side to make some extra scratch.
Everyone except for Kal. The work he picked up at the Yucatan wasn’t a side-hustle, it was his main gig.
The problem in Ventralla was that, eventually, the things a person did for extra scratch would catch up to them—usually not in a good way. That’s when people turned to Kal.
Or friends of people. Half his gigs involved searching for the missing.
No one caught his eye as he entered, which meant there was no work, or no one wanted it known that they were hiring him. Normally, several people would send meaningful glances his way, but right now, everyone was laying low, waiting to see what Maverick’s assumption of the presidency would mean for Montral.
The crime lord had long been the most powerful figure on Jericho, ruling the planet and his interests across the Gedri System from his seedy club in the Red Zone. It was so cliché that Kal sometimes couldn’t believe it wasn’t just some bad vid story.
Granted, the way Maverick liked to put on airs, it wouldn’t have surprised Kal if the man had gotten the idea from some old story and decided to live out his dream in decadent glory.
It sounded boring to Kal. He was sure that there was endless posturing, tit for tat games, and pointless power struggles.
I guess it’s not so much different up there than down here at the bottom.
Once, Kal had dreamt of getting out of his current position, away from Montral, Jericho…heck, out of the Silstrand Alliance, if he could muster up the credit for passage on a ship bound for somewhere more palatable. But as much as he wanted to leave, a part of him preferred the comfort of knowing the lay of the land, who controlled what, and how to get things done.
In a new system, he’d need to re-learn everything—and Kal was certain it would be just as corrupt, and he’d end up back in the same place.
So why bother leaving in the first place?
He reached the bar and slid onto a seat with empty stools on either side. Bella, one of the regular bartenders, ambled toward him.
“Regular?”
“Sure,” Kal grunted.
“You got it, boss,” she drawled and grabbed a glass from under the bar. “Heard any interesting news?”
Kal grunted again. “You’re the one listening to all the chatter in this shithole. Aren’t you supposed to already know all the juicy bits?”
Bella winked as she reached for a bottom shelf bottle of vodka. “Normally, yeah, but with Maverick on his way back here, everyone’s real quiet.”
“Calm before the storm,” Kal said, eliciting silent nods from those in earshot. “No one wants to risk anything until we figure out what the new normal looks like.”
“No such thing as normal with Maverick,” one of the patrons further down the bar said. “Guy’s the textbook definition of unpredictable.”
Another patron shook her head. “I’d keep criticism of Maverick to yourself. Digs at the new president isn’t a good look.”
“Digs?” the first man said. “I think unpredictability is what’s gotten him this far. Not a criticism at all.”
Kal tuned out the conversation as Bella set the drink in front of him.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, hon.” She said the words while turning toward another patron, leaving Kal in his own world.
He sat for several minutes, sipping his drink and watching the room via the microprobes he’d set on the bar when he entered.
; It was normally considered bad form to drop probes in the Yucatan, but he had special dispensation, given the good deeds he’d done. He didn’t record anything they picked up, just used them to get a three-sixty view of the room. It never hurt to have eyes in the back of one’s head—especially in Ventralla.
Those eyes paid off, as he saw a man rise from a table where he’d been sitting alone, and begin to thread through the Yucatan’s crush toward the bar to settle on the stool to Kal’s left.
He didn’t glance over and instead signaled Bella for a drink.
“Gimme a Red Dwarf,” he instructed the bartender, shaking his head ruefully as she began to prepare the beverage. “My sister used to love Red Dwarfs. I imagine she hasn’t had one in a while.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Bella asked.
“She got mixed up in some shit up on Valhalla Station. Big mess. Now she’s indebted to you know who.”
Kal strongly considered getting up and walking right out of the bar. The man clearly wanted him to help get someone out of Maverick’s clutches. And it was a woman, which meant she’d be collared and enslaved to the crime lord.
In other words, it was impossible.
“Shit, that’s not something most people get themselves out of,” Bella said, her tone echoing Kal’s thoughts. “Have the Red Dwarf on me, buddy.”
The man took the drink and cupped it in his hands, staring down at the red liquid. “I came a long way looking for her. Now that I’ve found her, I can’t just leave.”
“Then you’d better get a job,” another patron said from further down the bar. “Because your sister’s not coming back to you till he’s done with her.”
“Thought this was the sort of place one got help,” the man said.
“Sorry, buddy,” Bella shook her head. “Not that sort of help. You’ve seen how things are, right? The guy you want to go up against is more secure and powerful than he’s ever been. No one’s kicking him off his perch.”
“I don’t want to kick him off his perch, I just want to snatch my sister from him.”
“Uh huh.” Bella nodded, glancing at Kal. “Good luck with that. Maybe try the SSF.”
A few laughs came at her statement, and the man turned red.
He gripped the drink in his hands even harder and half-turned to Kal. “Are you really going to turn me down?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Kal replied evenly. “You were talking to Bella, not me—wasn’t paying attention.”
The man turned redder and began muttering obscenities under his breath. Kal ignored him until he finally seemed to run out of steam. After a few minutes longer, the visitor set his drink down and rose from his stool, slouching out of the Yucatan.
“What a tool,” Bella muttered after he was out of earshot.
“Can’t blame him for trying,” Kal said. “I get wanting to help family.”
The bartender paused her work and looked Kal in the eyes. “That what landed you here? I never did hear how someone with your skillset ended up at the bottom of Montral.”
Kal gave her a half smile and grabbed the untouched Red Dwarf, downing it in a single gulp. “And you never will.”
Bella chuckled and resumed her work. “Yeah, but I like to ask. Maybe someday, your guard will be down, and you’ll spill it.”
“Not likely.” He turned to look at the door as it closed behind the man.
“You’re not thinking of helping him, are you?” the bartender asked.
“No,” Kal shook his head. “Just thinking that maybe I should warn him off whatever foolish plan he’s got in mind. Last thing I want is for him to go after one of Maverick’s girls, and then have it get around that he was here first.”
Bella paled and she nodded. “Yes, stopping him from doing something that gets us all killed would be nice. Off with you.”
Kal chuckled and rose from his stool. “Put my drink on my tab.”
“It’s on the house, if we’re all still here in a week.”
Kal glanced around the room. “Be shocked if we’re all still here in a week.”
Bella laughed, and he smirked in response, making his own personal bets as to which of the Yucatan’s patrons wouldn’t survive the next few days. He had his favorites, and liked to see who beat the odds.
On Kal’s way to the door, one of the notoriously less intelligent dock workers, a beefy man named Sarge, rose and ambled toward the exit. He had a hungry look in his eyes and shot Kal a warning look as he pulled open the door and took the stairs two at a time.
Probably figuring our misguided friend has some credit on him if he’s approaching me.
It wasn’t a far-fetched guess. Most people tended to pay for Kal’s services in physical credit—well laundered physical credit, at that.
He followed Sarge up the stairs, surprised to see that the thug’s quarry had already passed beyond the outer door.
Fast bugger.
Sarge seemed to think so as well and pushed open the topside door to stand silhouetted by the overhead light, looking from side to side. A moment later, he took off jogging down the alley.
Kal was at the top of the stairs a moment later, peering into the gloom, wondering if Sarge was actually chasing the visitor, or if the thug had simply assumed his quarry was getting away.
“I’m not that dumb,” a voice said from behind Kal, and he spun to see the man from the bar two steps below him.
“Damn,” Kal shook his head. “That’s a sweet stealth setup. I didn’t pick you up at all.”
The man shrugged. “I’m good at not being noticed. Part of why I plan to get my sister with or without your help.”
“Look,” Kal raised a hand. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, maybe your sister too. Then Maverick’s gonna come looking for us and kill a few of the Yucatan’s regulars just to make a point. Best-case scenario, he takes Bella as one of his girls. You ready to trade her life for your sister’s?”
“You don’t know that’s how it would play out,” the man countered.
Kal nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know that. I said it’s a best-case scenario. It’ll probably play out much worse.”
“Well, either way, I’m doing it.”
“No,” Kal’s voice grew deadly serious. “You’re not. It’ll blow back on us, and I have better things to do than fight off Maverick’s goons.”
The man pursed his lips and grew still. Kal could tell he was considering pulling up the hood on his cloak and activating its stealth.
“I wouldn’t.” Kal’s hand drifted toward his sidearm. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot. What’s your name?”
“Barry,” the name was a barely audible mutter.
“OK, Barry, now this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to get yourself to the elevator and ride the strand up to the station. Then you’re going to go home and mourn your sister, because that’s the only option you have.”
“But this is my only chance,” Barry whispered, his eyes wide and pleading. “She’s at The Shade. Once Maverick comes back, it’ll be impossible to get to her, but right now, that place is a madhouse. We could get in. I have blueprints, a plan…. I just need someone to help me execute it.”
“More like execute you,” Kal muttered, though he was curious what sort of scheme this desperate brother had come up with. “OK, follow me. Let’s go somewhere we can talk and take a look at your plan.”
“Thanks.” Barry’s expression brightened. “I’m certain you’ll like it.”
Kal nodded encouragingly. And if I don’t, I’m going to cold-cock you and dump you on the first ship out of here.
“There you are!” a voice bellowed from midway down the alley. “You dumb asshole. I’m gonna end you.”
“Aw fuck,” Kal muttered. “It’s OK, Sarge, I’m handling it. No need to end anyone.”
“Nah-ah,” Sarge said as he thundered toward them. “He’s gonna bring Maverick down on the Yucatan. Can’t have that.”
Barry took a step back, re
aching under his cloak, and Kal held out a hand.
“Easy. Sarge is an ass, but we can’t kill him, especially not here. It’ll stir up too much shit.”
“He doesn’t look like he has the same compunctions.”
Kal had to agree with Barry. Sarge was storming down the alley with a look in his face that said murder—for the both of them.
Deciding some violence was better than death, Kal drew his sidearm and shot the ground a few meters ahead of Sarge.
“Cool it. We’re leaving, everything’s going to be fine.”
Sarge paused a moment, then let out a bellow that echoed up and down the alley. Then he charged.
“Fuck,” Kal muttered, knowing that Sarge had enough mods to stop the pistol’s rounds if he shot center-mass.
He raised the weapon, taking aim at the thug’s right eye. He was squeezing the firing stud when Sarge’s eyes grew wide, and he went rigid. His forward momentum didn’t stop, however, and the behemoth crashed to the pavement, rolling awkwardly onto his side while sliding to a stop.
“That was unexpected,” Barry shook his head.
In Sarge’s wake stood Al; it was the only time Kal had seen the bum not ensconced next to his refuse bin. In his hand was a high-powered stun wand.
“Shit, Al. Thanks,” Kal said, walking toward Sarge and checking that the thug was still breathing.
The bum shrugged as he returned to his customary place. “That ass was too loud, disturbing my rest. If you had to fight him, it just would have gotten louder.”
Kal nodded. “Yeah, likely. You going to be OK? Maybe we should just waste him.”
Al shook his head. “Don’t worry, I can handle Sarge. You two just get out of here. I’ll play it like he was going to rough me up. I have people, he won’t try anything.”
Kal opted not to look too carefully at the gift, and nodded his thanks. “I’ll remember this, Al.”
“Just keep the credit coming.”
With a nod to Barry to follow after, Kal walked out of the alley. Going to his office to have the chat was too risky now, but that was why he had a few special places secreted away.
“Just a short walk,” he said to Barry. “Then we can take a look at this plan of yours.”
