by Steve Rzasa
He hadn’t been dangling from the ramp for five seconds when return fire scored the surface of the ramp all around him. Whoever was in there either had terrible aim or didn’t want to turn Nil into instant redshirt. That’s when I realized I couldn’t see Nil’s reaction to the shooting because I was staring at the underside of his feet. The ship was rising slowly up, to the point he was hanging twenty feet overhead.
“Nil! Let go of the edge!” I hollered.
The shooting continuing. Those strikers shrieking were startlingly loud given the roar from the ship’s engines. Finally Nil dropped from the underside.
I considered trying to catch him. Waited with my arms outstretched. Then I remembered how big he was, and the fact that he was thirty feet up.
Great.
I backed off, just in time for him to come slamming down onto the ground. He hit it at an angle, sprang back up ten feet in a short arc, and tumbled onto his side. Yes, I went to make sure he was okay, but all he did was dust off his clothes and stand glaring at the ship.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, still glaring. The qwaddo ship boosted away from us headed northeast, the sky wiggling with heat waves from underneath and behind the craft. It was fast.
“We’ll get them. Somebody else with aircraft, I mean. Your good guy Ghiqasu.” Sure, it sounded good.
Nil turned toward me, mouth open as if to speak—and pointed with both left arms. “Fisk!”
What? Yeah, he was right. Fisk was sprinting toward the woods. He was nearly at the tree line. Made a good recovery for someone just getting alien probes dug into his back.
Nil ducked down by the body of the lead soldier and filled his hands with all three of his personal strikers. Overkill much? “Hurry!” He loped along after him, his strides greater than ever before. Bonus of low gravity compared to his native soil, I guess.
Me? I ran, too, but it was less of a sprint and more of a drunken zombie gallop. There was a lot of pain. Pretty much only my ears didn’t hurt.
We’d darted into the cool shade of the trees when we heard a truck engine start. My first thought was that Fisk got to his Land Cruiser. My second was that if he hurt Ally—because I could definitely see her trying to go all Wyoming gal and try to stop him—I’d break his neck. Because I know how.
My third thought was, that engine sound didn’t sound like an old Toyota’s.
I poured on more speed with my side and my legs severely disagreeing. Leaped over a short drop-off four feet tall and landed in the bright sunlight again, aiming that big striker weapon like a boss. Bet I looked awesome. Also bet my ankle was sprained.
Turned out I didn’t need the gun because Fisk wasn’t near his Land Cruiser. Ally’s engine was the one gunning. Her truck jumped forward, pulling out right in front of him. He hit the front left wheel well and snapped forward so hard his chin made a loud thump on the hood. His body rebounded and he fell, raising up a dust cloud.
“Whoa.” I got over there as fast as I could, meaning with minimal limping. Kept Fisk’s body covered with the gun, in case he played Borg again. “Ally! Are you okay?”
She flung the door open and ran to me. Her arms went around my neck. “I am, but you look awful.” She immediately started touching everywhere on me that she could see a bruise. Which was a great sensation. You’d be amazed how fast all pain flees your body when the woman you love—who was still wearing that hot blouse—is putting her hands on your skin.
“Nah, I’m okay.” Yep. And ow. “Nice driving.”
“Thanks.”
Nil crouched over Fisk, who lay groaning in the dirt. He sniffed all about him.
I kept my finger on the newly discovered trigger. “Thought you were going to stun him. Special setting and all that.”
“There is no need. The Jinn have left him.” Nil rocked back on his ankles. “Eqo Qas. The Sozh Uqasod is still embedded in Fisk.” I sagged from the sudden lack of adrenaline. Thank God. No, seriously, I thanked Him, because it was a miracle that a relic of such priceless antiquity was safe. Plus, I could still get paid a lot of money. “So his Observer buddy must have scooped out the Jinn before they fled.”
“Indeed. I have heard of such transference before but did not recognize the technology used. Such a device is not sanctioned by the Consociation.”
Something about an alien telling me he didn’t recognize a high-tech gadget made me severely uncomfortable. I rested the striker gun over my right shoulder and with Ally hanging on my left arm, decided I had a right to feel pretty awesome. “Nice work back there.”
Nil grinned that fang-filled grin at me. “You as well. Though the favor of Qas was on your side.”
“Okay, I’ll bite, why?”
“If you had engaged a Thibaqan ground-pounder in his home atmosphere, you would have fared worse.”
Ouch. Considering that the pain was now happily abusing me again, I didn’t argue.
Nil’s grin faded. “I am more disturbed by the mention of the Nivax.”
“Right. The bad guys to your Consociation.”
“Yes. They are the one major threat against our alliance of star systems. Yet I cannot ascertain why they would go through such an elaborate plot to take the Sozh Uqasod. There are far greater treasures of our nations on display across dozens of worlds.”
“Who cares? We have it, and they don’t. That’s for you four-armed heroes to figure out some other day.” I dug out my cell phone. Ah, good. A couple of bars. “Shall I do the honors?”
“You are calling your agents.”
“Also, yes.” I dialed Carpenter’s number. “And there’s no chance I’m going to be humble, so don’t ask.”
We were an odd group headed back to town: Ally driving, her ex-fiancé and father of her adopted kid in the passenger seat, the four-armed alien behind us, and his prisoner, the former human soldier recently possessed by microscopic alien overlords. A few heads turned as Ally’s truck sprinted down the mountain, but I think they were eyeballing the vintage Bronco more than they were checking out the alien.
Nil had bound the two alien soldiers. He did it himself without me around, after explaining that being laid low by a human was embarrassing enough without actually being captured by one.
“Are you sure we should just leave them there?” I mean, not that I expected them to become mountain lion chow.
“Yes. My superior informs me that an incarceration transport is on its way.”
“They didn’t happen to spot our Observer Nasp’s ride, did they?”
“No, they did not. They assure me our concerns are being acted on.”
He didn’t sound convinced.
Carpenter congratulated me when I called in. Granted, it was the congratulations of a man who was conflicted. You know—glad the mission was successful and all that, but irritated that it was me who got the job done.
I just grinned the whole way into Buffalo. Rutherford texted me. [Bring Fisk to JC hosptl.]
Roger that. “Hospital, Ally.”
“Why’s that?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m assuming they need a sterile environment for pulling the sculpture out of our buddy here.”
Fisk didn’t say anything. Hadn’t said anything during the whole ride. Just stared out the window, expression blank. Nil had his hands bound in front of him by something that looked like a sponge, except that sponge was bright green laced with pulsating brown stripes. So they apparently used giant mucus as restraints on the qwaddo homeworld. Nice.
Carpenter and the FBI entourage were already assembled at the Johnson County Healthcare Center, with their SUV tucked neatly in the corner of the parking lot. I spotted Loya and the pair of suits just inside the atrium of the hospital, which was a tall glassed in structure with a slanted roof. It was elegant but kind of jarring next to the low flat-roofed white and orange-brown of the rest of the building that looked like it was way older. Nil herded Fisk out of the truck, with just the one striker evident in his lower right hand. I poin
ted. “You might want to stow that thing, Nil.”
“I was planning to.” He squeezed it with his thumb and lower finger. The striker suddenly contracted in on itself, compressing down to a quarter its deployed size. Just a block of plastics and metals—I assume—that tucked into one of his pockets.
“So that’s where you stash the others,” I muttered.
Nil flashed a toothy grin and prodded Fisk forward. He didn’t resist, shuffling down the steps from the parking lot to the emergency vehicle lane in front of the door.
Ally stayed in the truck. I shut the door and rounded the front to her side, thumping a rhythm on the hood as I went. She had her window down, and with the sun shining from a cloudless blue sky—beautiful.
“So thanks for all your help back there,” I said.
“That’s underwhelming, Caz, considering.”
“Yeah. You were outstanding behind the wheel. I should have you help me in stings more often. What do you say? Permanent salary as Caz Fortel’s wheel-woman?”
“I have better benefits.”
“Way to wound a guy.” I kissed her.
“You’re coming to church Sunday, yes?”
Hmm. “Ah, yeah. Sure thing.”
She squinted at me. “Caz. Nil said he wanted to go. I invited you both.”
“I know, I got it. He’s a big boy. He can show up on his own if I have—other business.”
“Like flying to Boston to get your reward? It will probably still be there whenever you get back.”
“Probably.” Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Loya coming up the stairs. Nil was with Fisk in front of the two FBI goons by the front entrance. “Hang on. More business.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fortel, for your work.” Loya was beaming. He shook my hand vigorously, which he managed without spilling the coffee clutched in his free hand. A powerful aroma of caramel rolled over me. “It wasn’t without complications, I’ll grant, but frankly my biggest worry was that Prime Nil would strangle you. Or worse—file a formal complaint with the federal government.”
“Worse than me getting strangled? Thanks, Loya,” I said. “You’re a pal. I trust the money’s waiting for me.”
His smile faded. “That’s the FBI’s concern, not mine. Diplomatically speaking, I’m still ironing things out. The accusations made by Prime Nil and yourself are serious—”
“Accusations? You’ve got to be kidding me. Nil and I spanked two soldiers. His boys should have picked them up by now, right?”
Loya changed the coffee to another hand. “Well, yes, I have verified—”
“Nil recorded a whole bunch of data on his scanner. Somebody’s got to be tracking their ship. If not, they’re even dumber than you guys.”
“Mr. Fortel, that’s enough.” Loya gestured with the cup to Ally. “Ma’am, you must understand the sensitivity of this incident. The Department of Extraterrestrial Affairs can compensate you for any difficulty you’ve endured.”
Ally laughed. She fired up the Bronco’s engine, then leaned out and kissed me. “See ya, Caz. You’ve got such fun friends.” She drove off, leaving Loya staring after her like the idiot I increasingly assumed he was.
“She won’t say anything, Loya. All right, so everything’s stayed quiet, hasn’t it?”
Loya frowned. “Yes. The news outlets are none the wiser, and soon we’ll have the Sozh Uqasod back to its rightful owners. The exhibit at the University of Wyoming is nearly over anyway.”
“You guys took a page from my book, keeping that fake loop imagery running.”
“Yes, well, it is technically the accurate representation of the sculpture.” Loya fixed his tie, which I realized was the same blue as the sky. “Come with me. Special Agent Carpenter wants you as a witness.”
“To what?”
“The retrieval, of course.”
<<<>>>
Everyone was in a small side room of the hospital, powder-blue walls and white linoleum. By everyone I meant Nil, Fisk, Carpenter, and—some alien I’d never seen before. It was short, standing up to our waists. “Standing” was a loose term. Six tentacles squirmed across the floor, pale green and speckled with several shades of brown splotches. Its body—maybe “trunk” was a better description—was covered by a sagging tunic of dark blue, lined with six white stripes. Three more tentacles, half as slender as the leg tentacles, protruded from each side. The head was a lump of flesh with four openings and four purple eyes the size of golf balls perched on the end of stubs as tall as my hand was long.
“This is Healist Sifanaf,” Carpenter said, somehow staying his usual well-spoken self while rolling those consonants and vowels out of his mouth. “It is the Rycole who will conduct the removal of the statue.”
Nil bowed to the alien, arms spread. The alien waved all six of its top tentacles. It warbled something in a bird-like chirp.
“It asks that the humans remain as far as possible from the subject,” Nil said.
So the alien didn’t do genders, I took it. Loya, Carpenter, and I clustered by the door. There was only a single exam bed, on the opposite end of the room, and a sink with counter to our left. Fisk was sitting on the edge of the bed.
There was also a small round device sitting next to him. It was a white ovoid as big as a golf ball, glowing green from somewhere in its center. The Rycole caressed it with its top two tentacles, and the ovoid began humming. The ovoid cracked open along all three axes and emitted a brighter green glow into the room, bathing everything and everyone in a sickly cast.
Really didn’t want it to be the same freak show as the Jinn removal.
Fisk stiffened up. I mean, frozen like a Popsicle. A pair of white beams of light struck him in the chest, tracing paths over his shirt. After a few seconds they stopped moving. Locked onto their target, I guessed. They started pulsing rapidly.
There wasn’t a trace of emotion on Fisk’s face. I prayed for the guy. Probably sounded rusty, but hey, it couldn’t hurt.
The Rycole warbled more birdsong, increasing in its intensity. It picked up the ovoid and used all six tentacles to press it against Fisk’s chest. The green glow and white light coalesced into one ring of light around the ovoid that was bright enough to leave afterimages when I stared.
Fisk yelped, but he didn’t move.
Finally all the lights died down. Fisk blinked, started gasping for air. The Rycole rubbed tentacles across his right arm and turned to Nil, warbling in low bursts.
“Sifanaf tells me Fisk’s vital signs are normal. The Sozh Uqasod has been removed,” he said.
“What, that was it?” I scowled. “All that insanity about keeping the statue safe and this guy does it with a light show.”
“That light show involved stasis techniques honed over millennia,” Nil rumbled. “Techniques the human race—and my race—cannot duplicate.”
“Oh.” Fair point. Wasn’t going to get into the whole interstellar society debate with him again.
The Rycole handed the ovoid, very gingerly, to Nil. They repeated their bow.
“That’s done and over with.” Carpenter rapped on the door. It opened, and the two FBI goons came in, looking identically bored. “Take Mr. Fisk into custody.”
They yanked him off the table and locked him up in handcuffs. “Tyler Fisk,” Carpenter said like he was announcing a funeral, “you are under arrest for the theft of the Sozh Uqasod from the people of the Panstellar Consociation and for the murder of Jordan Santoro. You will be detained in a federal facility until it is determined what action the Consociation will take against your person.”
He added on the regular Miranda rights, plus a couple of bits about “capital offenses.” When he was finished, the agents hustled Fisk from the room.
Nil and I stared at each other a second before Fisk disappeared out the door. All in all, I felt bad for the guy. Who knew how much of his actions were his own and how many were the rogue Jinn warping his brain? That was for the FBI and Hounders to determine, I guessed.
“Casimir Fort
el,” Nil said, “on behalf of the Panstellar Consociation, I thank you for your assistance in this retrieval.”
He stood right in front of me, holding that ovoid cupped in his lower hands. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do at this point. He wasn’t my friend. Not by any stretch. But he wasn’t that bad a guy, not for a qwaddo. We’d watched each other’s backs well enough that there was no way I could deny our partnership had been anything other than successful. I scratched at the back of my neck. “Sure thing. You’re, ah, welcome.”
I tried spreading my arms out, qwaddo-style. It must have looked ridiculous because Loya chuckled softly. Wanted to deck him.
Nil returned the gesture, though. Then he stuck out his lower right hand.
I grinned. We shook, his arm jerking up and down so much like a rusty pump handle I knew he’d never done this one before.
“Prime Nil, we’re honored to have been of service,” Carpenter said. “We can certainly escort you back to Boston where the statue can be remanded to Jinn custody.”
“Thank you, Special Agent Carpenter, but first I have business to attend to here.”
Carpenter’s smile froze in place. A Ken doll couldn’t look more fake. “I’m sorry. I am under orders from the Director of the FBI and from the president of the United States to have the statue returned to the Jinn by our agency.”
Ouch. Way to bring out the big guns.
Nil cocked his head aside—that right, left, right motion. “I understand. However, my authority as a prime investigator for Retrieval and Justice negates your authority and that of the president in this matter. The Sozh Uqasod will not leave my hand—any of the four, if you require specificity.”
Wow. Eat that, Carpenter. He didn’t ball up his hands into fists, but I heard Loya’s paper cup crumple. Poor Loya was ready to cry, working that sad puppy expression. Carpenter just stayed Ken doll.
“Fortel, I will see you at the church Sunday morning.” He started out the door with the Rycole trailing after him.
