“Yay.”
Harr studied the two remaining cards, checking the titles on both. “Since I’m in charge of this little mission, I’ll have to be a Dr. Zep Welder.” He fastened the badge to his white lab coat and then glanced down at the last of the badges. “That means, Jezden, that you’re going to be Dr. Dangly N. Impotent.”
“Dangly N. Impotent?” Jezden said, snatching the ID away from Harr. “What? That sounds awful. I can’t be that!”
“Sorry, Jezden,” said Harr, not feeling the least bit sorry, “but that’s all that’s left.”
“But this is a horrible name. I mean, even I feel bad for the poor sucker who actually has to suffer with this name.”
Harr fought to withhold his grin. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean the same thing to the Kallians as it does to us. Remember that we are using Universal Translators. For all we know, when they hear that name it could be like us hearing ‘Jack Preston’ or something else innocuous.”
“I hope so,” Jezden said, irritably fastening the badge to his coat. “Horrendous.”
OLD HORK CITY
They stepped off the transport and started walking due north. Harr’s heads-up map took some getting used to as he led the team through the trees toward the city. Every tree he saw flooded the upper-right of his vision with details about its composition. Age, bark density, sap consistency, if any, and even levels of infestation scrolled in a never-ending stream of information. After walking for a while like this, he was finally able to ignore the influx of data and focus instead on the map.
Behind them, the dampened sound of engines signaled that the shuttle was returning to the Reluctant. If nothing else, that made Harr happy. The last thing he needed was for some jogger to run through the woods and smack into the side of an unseen ship.
They cleared the trees and found a city that was bustling with activity. Vehicles were zipping this way and that on the main road and pedestrians were crowding the sidewalks. The sound was almost deafening, especially when the larger vehicles sped on by.
“That’s a lot of buildings,” Ridly said.
“You should see what I see,” Harr replied, referring to the map in his display. “We have to cross this street and head a couple of blocks down. We’re looking for something called the underground. Apparently, there is a monorail-type system that will take us deeper into the city.”
Getting across the street was similar to how it was done on Segnal. They waited at one of the corners until a traffic light changed, and then they walked across while dodging the vehicles that cared little about the status of traffic lights.
“That was fun,” Jezden said after smacking the back of one of the vehicles, which resulted in the driver honking a horn and putting up his pinky. Harr assumed that was the Kallian equivalent to the Segnalian thumb.
“Stop for a second,” he said. “I need to get my bearings.”
He took a step forward and nearly knocked over a passerby.
“Watch where you’re going, moron,” the guy said while checking over his clothes.
“Sorry,” Harr replied. “We’re new in town and…”
“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a crap,” said the man.
“Want me to kill him?” asked Vool.
The man scurried away under the gaze of the Overseer.
“Vool,” Harr warned, “I don’t think it’s wise to mention your desire to kill anyone. You’re bound to get us all arrested.”
“If they arrest me,” she said, “I’ll just kill them, too.”
“How about you just stop talking about killing people?”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she retorted.
“Actually, for this mission, I am.”
She growled. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“Excuse me,” a young woman said to Harr. She was dressed sharply, had neatly cropped hair, and was carrying an attaché case.
“Yes?” said Harr.
“I was wondering if you four happened to own this piece of the sidewalk?”
Harr frowned for a moment. “No,” he said slowly.
“Are you sure?” she said with a squint. “Maybe you have a deed somewhere on your person?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s strange, then. You see, I ask because you’re standing directly in the way as everyone is trying to get to work, and that can only mean that you either own this piece of concrete or you’re a complete prick.”
“Oh,” Harr said, putting his hands up. “I’m sorry, we’re just new to the area and a bit lost…”
“Well, get lost in a corner, buddy,” she said menacingly and then pushed on by, holding up her pinky.
Vool showed her smile for the second time that day.
“Sure are a hostile people,” noted Ridly.
“Straight shooters, if you ask me,” said Jezden as he stepped out and watched the Kallian that had just chastised Harr as she headed down the sidewalk. “I kind of like it.”
“Hey, short-tail,” said a grumbly looking man who was blocked by Jezden, “how about moving outta the way so someone with a bit of length can get to work on time, eh?”
Jezden stepped aside. His mouth was hanging open. “Did he just call me short-tail?”
“If the tail fits,” Ridly said with a grin. “Still glad they speak their minds, hotshot?”
“Ridly, not now,” Harr said. “Let’s keep moving.”
From Harr’s perspective, walking with a purpose seemed to keep everyone in line. People still grunted at him if they had to step around, but they didn’t stop to speak their minds. It was just like his father had once told him when he was growing up, “If you keep your eyes ahead,” he’d said, “and act like you know where you’re going, people will often get out of your way.” So far that had proved true. What was most baffling to Harr was how these people could live like this. Even the busiest times in Segnal’s capital city weren’t this bad.
As they continued walking toward the underground, he couldn’t help but feel his stomach growl at the smell of the foods that were being sold from carts littering the sides of the road. The owners were calling out to pedestrians, offering samples and deals. That, of course, made Harr wonder about currency. Obviously, they had nothing, and he’d forgotten to ask Geezer to hook them up.
Following a group of others, Harr led the crew down a flight of stairs and into an underworld labyrinth that was full of shops and kiosks. There was also a large train that was in the process of dumping off one set of passengers as another set struggled to hop on.
Trying to keep up with the crowd, they walked to the entryway and found that it was blocked by a metal bar. Harr took a glimpse to his left and saw people putting slips of papers into the machine that was attached to the bar. Once they slid it in, the bar would lift up and let them through, only to close again to stop the next person.
“Come on, pal,” a guy standing behind them said, “let’s move it, yeah?”
“Push back, Jezden,” Harr said. “We need to get some papers or something.”
The people around them were making nasty comments as they finally got out of the way. All in all, it made Harr wonder if Vool might have the right of it. To be fair, though, Harr understood. These were just a bunch of people who were all likely grumpy about having to go into jobs that they didn’t much enjoy.
“Over there, sir,” Ridly said, pointing at a station that had a sign that read, “TICKETS.”
It took some doing, but they muscled through the crowd and got to the counter.
“Yeah?” said the lady behind the glass. She gave the impression of being even grumpier than the woman who had given Harr the pinky.
“We need tickets, please.”
“To where?”
“The, uh, W.A.R.P.E.D. building.”
“I don’t know every building in this town, mister,” the lady said with a grunt. “What part of the city?”
Harr scanned through the map in his visual uni
t until he spotted the building. Then he zoomed out until he finally saw a word that appeared to describe the general area.
“Downtown?” he said, hopefully.
“Five credits,” the lady said. “Each.”
“Right,” Harr said, patting his pockets for no apparent reason. “Five credits, you say?”
“Each.”
“Just a moment, please,” he said. He then pulled the others around to the side of the booth. “I don’t suppose anyone has any credits?” They all just eyeballed him. “Right. Well, somehow we need to get twenty of them. Ideas?”
“We could kill someone and take what we need,” suggested Vool.
“I’d rather not,” Harr replied with a frown.
“Wuss.”
“We could just walk,” Ridly said. “It’s not that far.”
“For you, maybe.” Harr glanced back up the stairs that they’d come down earlier. “Frankly, I’d rather not go back up into that mess of people.”
“I agree,” Jezden said. “No thanks. I’ll just ask some lady and we’ll have the money.” He stepped out toward one particularly attractive Kallian. “Pardon me, miss,” said Jezden with his winning smile, “we’re trying to get downtown and we’re short twenty credits. Could you help us?”
“Get a job, tiny-tail,” the lady said, pushing Jezden out of her way.
Harr nearly snorted as Ridly let out an all-out laugh. Even Vool giggled slightly, which sounded incredibly like an angry chipmunk.
“What’s with all the name calling about my tail?” Jezden asked, looking very hurt indeed.
“I don’t know,” Harr said, “but it gives me an idea.” He stepped up to the next lady that passed by. “Excuse me, but could you spare twenty credits? I forgot my wallet at home and we need to get downtown.”
The lady started to give him a once over. On a whim, he turned and showed her his tail. This made him feel very exposed, but the look on her face said that it was the right thing to do.
“Here you go, sugar,” she said, slipping double the amount into his hand. “Also, take my card. Give me a call sometime and I’ll gladly think up any number of ways that you can pay me back.”
“Great,” Harr said, wondering if he should be feeling as dirty as he did. “Thank you very much.”
“Call me,” she said with a wink before walking toward the turnstiles.
“No way,” Jezden said. “That did not just happen.”
“Forty credits say it did, Ensign,” Harr replied while waving the bills in the android’s face.
“Good call on wanting that short tail, Jezden.”
“Shut up, Ridly,” Jezden said, and then added, “Damn it.”
THE TRAM
Getting on the tram was just about as much fun as buying the tickets. People were pushing and pulling and slamming into each other. Harr felt like a rag doll that was being fought over by triplets.
Vool tapped him on the shoulder and tilted her head toward the last car. There was hardly any foot traffic down there. The crew quickly walked over and stepped inside. It was nearly empty, aside from the group of kids that were laughing, yelling, and blaring some form of distorted music. Harr could deal with that, though. It wasn’t like it was going to be a long trip.
They sat in the very back and Harr leaned in so they could hear him. “When we get there, you’ll have to let me do all the talking. We need these people to think that I’m the bigwig on the team and that you’re all my assistants.”
“Yes, sir,” Ridly said.
“Whatever,” said Vool as she leaned back and crossed her arms.
Jezden hadn’t seemed to have been paying much attention. “I should have gone with the bigger tail,” he said tiredly. “Still,” he peered up at Harr, “I’m good looking, right? I mean, I’m definitely better looking than you, yeah?”
“Stow it, Ensign,” Harr replied with a frown. “Keep your mind on the mission.”
“Easy for you to say.”
The music stopped abruptly. Harr glanced up to see a couple of young Kallians staring at him. Their stares were somewhat menacing, which didn’t seem much different than what he’d gotten from most of the Kallians he’d run into this morning.
One of the teens, a lanky fellow with stringy hair and a particularly insistent scowl, walked through the car, directly toward them. Behind him was a taller, bulkier teenager who seemed more dubious than irritable.
“Well, well, well,” said the scowler in a leathery voice, “what do we have here? Looks like we have some oldies sitting in our chairs. Don’t it, Yezto?”
“That it does, Weez,” said Yezto. “That it does.”
“What happens to people who sit in our section, Yezto?”
“They get roughed-up, Weez.”
“Shame, that,” Weez said, looking as though he didn’t consider it to be shameful in the least. “Rules is rules, though, so who wants to go first?”
“Why don’t you guys just move along?” Harr suggested. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Oh,” Weez answered with a nod. “They don’t want any trouble, Yezto. We should probably just move along.”
“Right. Let’s just forget all about this happening, eh, Weez?”
Weez leaned in toward Harr, who sat back and prepared himself for a fight. “Maybe you’re just a tough guy, old man. That what it is?” Harr said nothing. “I think that’s what he thinks, Yezto. What do you think?”
“Sounds like it, Weez.”
Vool uncrossed her arms and focused imploringly on Harr. “I could…” She paused and shrugged. “Well, you know.”
“I do know,” Harr said, “and I thank you for not saying it. But, I don’t think it will be necessary.”
Weez stood back up. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Harr said tightly. “Look, we’re sorry we’re in your seats. We’re new to town and didn’t know about any particular seating arrangements.”
“Doesn’t matter where you’re sitting on this tram, gramps,” said Weez. “They’re all our seats.”
So that’s how it was, was it? These were the same types of little boneheads that Harr had dealt with when growing up. It was one of the reasons he’d joined the SSMC in the first place. He wanted to learn how to fight to defend himself. More than that, he wanted to defend others against the likes of bullies like these punks. But he had to keep his cool. He was leading this party and he didn’t need the team’s cover blown due to an argument on a transportation vessel.
Unfortunately, Jezden didn’t seem to see it that way. “Listen, you little turd,” the android said with a sneer that matched the one Weez wore, “why don’t you walk away before I punch you in the neck?”
“Ensign…uh, I mean, Dr. Impotent,” Harr said with a shake of his head, “that’s uncalled for.”
“Oooh,” Weez said with a mock laugh. “Looks like we got us a real tough guy here, Yezto. And a doctor, at that. Well, Dr. Tough-guy…”
“Better than Dr. Impotent,” Jezden muttered.
“…things are about to get very real.”
Weez took a quick step forward, his fist raised and ready to strike, when Lieutenant Ridly reacted. The speed at which an android could move was that of the blink of an eye. She jumped up, stepped between Weez and Jezden, and landed a knee in the poor kid’s groin with such ferocity that Harr thought certain that the kid’s balls were going to fly out of his ass. Weez screeched and dropped to the floor as Ridly placed her foot on his neck.
Yezto jumped to the aid of his fallen friend, but Vool moved even faster than Ridly as she snaked a punch to the side of the boy’s shoulder. He quite literally flew through the air and slammed into the side wall of the tram. Harr could only blink at the realization that Vool had just proved how powerful Overseers were. He’d known that they had the technology, but her speed and power was unfathomable. Thank goodness she hadn’t knocked the kid in the head because it would have exploded.
Harr leaned down
to Weez’s face as Yezto squirmed in agony a few feet away.
“I really wish you would have just moved along,” said Harr sadly. “This all could have been avoided.”
Weez grunted a few times until Harr signaled Ridly to remove her foot from the kid’s neck. Then Weez, looking like a mouse that was cornered by a group of hungry cats, said in a voice that was much higher-pitched than it had been pre-Ridly, “You’re not supposed to hit us. We’re under age.”
“Again,” Harr said as a slurry of expletives rang out in his head, “we’re new to the area and didn’t know that.” He then leaned in a little closer and whispered, “Look, kid, I’ll make a deal with you. You see that woman over there?” He motioned toward Vool, but Weez looked up at Ridly. “No, not the one that knocked your nuts into next week. I’m talking about the one that punched your pal in the shoulder and sent him flying.” Weez nodded, still grimacing. “If you get up and act like none of this happened, and if you never…and I do mean never…tell anyone about any of this, I’ll make sure that she doesn’t hunt you down and kill you.” Weez’s eyes grew to the point of popping out. “Trust me on this, kid, she’ll do just that. She kind of enjoys doing it.”
“What the hell kind of doctors are you?” Weez asked with a frightened gasp.
“Depends on you, Weez,” Harr said casually. “Normally, we’re just inspectors, but we could easily find our way into the field of proctology, if you see where I’m going.” Weez swallowed hard. “Now, do we have a deal, son?”
“Deal,” said Weez as he struggled to get up. He continued clutching his groin while shuffling back to the other side of the car. Yezto was right on his tail and the remaining kids were all consciously avoiding eye contact.
“I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to kill anyone?” Vool said.
“And you didn’t,” Harr noted.
“Right, but if they tell anyone, I can? That’s what you told him.”
“I don’t think it will come to that, Vool,” Harr replied. “You saw how scared that kid was.”
“Yes,” she said in an almost sultry voice that made Harr’s skin crawl. “I sure hope one of them tells.”
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 8
