by T. R. Harris
Chapter 24
The planet Zafin was a hellhole, but Graham had no other option. He couldn’t make it to Woken, not with every ship tasked with reporting his transponder code. And he couldn’t stay in space. The only safe place was on the surface of a planet, lost in ground clutter.
The ground clutter was a group of ragged natives who had not fared well in the years they were off-planet. Returning home didn’t work out for them, either. A third was suffering from some form of cancer from the lingering radiation. The rest were on the verge of starvation. Because of that, they had very little energy to cause him and his crew of six any problems.
The ship set down in a field near a skeleton of a city where most of the natives resettled. The official spaceport was on the other side of town. Graham wanted to avoid that. Instead, he had the ship towed to a farm and placed in a very Human-like barn.
He’d been here for almost three months, frequently checking the radiation levels. It wouldn’t pay for him to become a multi-billionaire, only to die of cancer a few years later. That would suck.
So, he and his crew stayed cooped up in the small ship most of the time. Fights broke out often, but none involved Graham. The assortment of aliens that made up his crew was smart enough not to tangle with a Human, especially one with his training.
Although born and raised in South Queensferry near Glasgow, Scotland, John Graham moved to London in his late teens and ended up in the Special Air Service, trained as a commando. He was good at what he did, although after ten years, the unit and Graham parted company when his superiors said he was unstable and lacked compassion.
“What the bloody hell does compassion have to do with it?” he asked. “We’re a combat unit. If you have compassion for your enemy, you die!”
But it wasn’t just the enemy for which Graham lacked compassion. It was everyone around him—his fellow man.
Staff Sergeant John Graham then left the planet Earth, migrating into the galaxy where killing aliens wasn’t as frowned upon as killing his fellow Humans. He found lucrative work with Priority Acquisitions in their paramilitary division, hired out as a mercenary. It was great work and paid well, and over time, he developed a reputation, a reputation that would eventually get him noticed by a certain Regional Director of Maris-Kliss.
He hooked up with Stimmel just as the Director began buying up worlds in the Dead Zone. As a fellow Human, Stimmel felt a kinship to the merc and put him in charge of the security forces for the planets, tasked with protecting the clean-up crews from scavengers, pirates and refugees. There was no law in the Zone at the time and anything went. John Graham found himself in Heaven, a bloody, sadistic version of Heaven.
But then Stimmel was killed, and everything went to Hell; however, the sale of the DMCs would make up for that, and then some. He watched the screen as tiny sensor drones he placed in orbit tracked the arrival of the Gracilian ship. At the last minute, he sent out a brief ping, showing his location. It didn’t cost anything to be cautious.
The freighter was huge and tore up the neighboring field quite nicely before settling into a cloud of landing exhaust. The air was calm this morning, so the smoke lingered, painting the scene in a uniform gray, like a black and white photo.
Graham stationed his six crew members at the periphery of the field, covering it from all angles.
Eventually, the smoke cleared and a side hatch on the freighter opened. Three people stepped out: two Gracilians—and a Human. Seeing one of his fellow species made Graham angry, feeling that this was information the Gracilians should have told him. Humans didn’t serve as mere crew. They were an integral part of all operations in which they were involved. Graham immediately began speculating on what role the Human played in the Gracilian’s plan.
The trio stood outside the hatchway, waiting patiently as Graham made his way to the starship. He’d already arranged for the two teams to exchange starships. It was a lot easier to do that than having to transfer dozens of crates of credits to his small speeder. Besides, they wouldn’t fit. Once the funds were verified, they’d go to Graham’s ship to see the DMCs.
As he came closer to the freighter, he noticed that the dark-haired Human was wearing a sidearm, but not the aliens. It made sense that the man would be the muscle, but was that all he was?
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a Human as a partner?” he asked without taking his eyes off the man.
Both Gracilians blinked hard and recoiled. “We were not aware that was of importance,” said one of them, the alien known as Kovach.
“It’s not … if he behaves himself.”
“And why wouldn’t I?” the man said. “We’re about to put together a deal that will make me a lot of money. The Gracilian’s can have their precious DMCs. I just want my share for keeping them safe for these past three months. Then I’m gone—just like you.”
“Very well. I’m Graham. That’s my last name.”
“I’m Hannon; that’s my last name, too.”
“Hannon? Michael Hannon, the bloody assassin!” Graham chuckled. “It sure is a small universe. Everyone in the bloody galaxy is out looking for you.”
“You’re telling me.”
Graham relaxed. Hannon was a criminal; he wasn’t about to cause problems. All he was in it for was the money. “Okay, let’s have a look. I’m curious to see what one and three-quarter billion in Juirean credits looks like.”
Chapter 25
The interior of the starship smelled like alien, and not the good type. Gracilians were huge, muscular creatures who sweated profusely. Graham had a lot of experience with the black-skinned creatures. He never liked them much. But today could change that impression.
The cargo hold was enormous, as one would expect aboard a Class-C freighter. And stacked neatly along the portside was row upon row of identical storage crates. Graham whistled.
Although he carried a sensing device that could detect Juirean credits, he still went to one and opened the lid. Credits, thin, black chips, filled the interior. Dividers separated the stacks. He took out the scanner and walked along the rows, checking the crates. He had no way of accurately counting the credits, not in a reasonable time, so he had to take the alien’s word for the total. Even if they were off by a few million, he didn’t care. He was having trouble enough maintaining his composure.
Damn! I did it.
“Okay, let’s go back to my ship. The DMCs are there.” Graham looked down at the sidearm on Hannon’s hip. “Is that really necessary?”
The man smiled. “Is yours? And where is your crew, back at your ship?”
“No. They’re around, keeping an eye on things.”
“Good. We don’t want anyone interrupting our little meeting.”
The walk to the barn was made in silence. Graham’s ship took up most of the interior, although it was barely over a hundred fifty feet long by forty wide.
“I should warn you,” he said. “The transponder is pretty hot on this one. I wouldn’t try going too far without some alternative form of transport arranged.”
“Don’t worry; we have that covered,” said Hannon.
Both men stood back and let the Gracilians have their moment with the DMCs. They stared at them as if they were objects of sensual pleasure. Vodenik and Kovach even hesitated to touch them for fear they might be mere illusions and not the real thing. But they were real; two three-foot-by-one-foot gray metal boxes, nondescript and plain. But combined, they had enough destructive power to create a dark energy singularity that could swallow the Milky Way.
Graham tried to put the thought out of his mind. Knowing that something that powerful existed could keep a person awake at night. One moment the galaxy is there, the next it’s gone … and with him in it. But DMCs had been around for a while, and the galaxy was still here. He just needed it to stay around long enough for him to die from overindulgence as a result of his incredible fortune—
The sound was distinctive: Not so much a pop as a poof. Flash bolts going off at a
distance.
Both Graham and Hannon noticed the sound first and reacted, a clear second or two before the Gracilians. Both men had their weapons out and racing for the exit to the starship.
“Is that flash bolts?” one of the aliens asked. The Humans were gone before they could answer.
At the decrepit double doorway to the barn, the men took up flanking positions.
“Who followed you?” Graham called out.
“No one; they couldn’t. This could be Cain’s Enforcers having found you.”
Graham didn’t buy it. The timing was too coincidental. He looked at the freighter, sitting a hundred yards out in the middle of an open field. Flashes of light were coming from multiple directions in the dead foliage surrounding the dead pasture. The enemy had them surrounded.
Shite! The freighter was too far. Besides, it would leave Graham to pilot the starship alone even if he could get there. Behind him sat his small speeder, easily piloted by one person. He also had the DMCs. If he could get away, he could sell them to the Cartel. Something could be salvaged out of this mess.
Bolts began to splash off the grey stained wood of the barn. His crew had been overrun, and now the Enforcers—he assumed they were Enforcers—were coming for him.
“Listen, Hannon,” he said. “I’m getting out of here in my ship. You can come along, or you can stay here; the choice is yours.”
“What about my god-damn money?”
“Forget about it. It’s gone. But I have another buyer for the DMCs … if we can get out of here. And we don’t need the Gracilians anymore.”
“You’d leave almost two billion credits?”
“No choice, mate. But I could use another gun hand now that my crew is gone. Are you in or out?”
“Of course, I’m in; what choice do I have?”
The pair ran back to the speeder, with Graham leading the way.
Chapter 26
“Howdy—do you remember me?”
Adam Cain landed a solid right jab to Graham’s nose the moment he stepped foot in the starship. But he didn’t go down. Instead, in a practiced, fluid movement, Graham planted a stiff boot into Adam’s midsection, an instinctive reaction rather than a conscious decision.
Adam wasn’t used to being hit that hard and buckled over, only to have the back of his Enforcer uniform grabbed and pulled over his head. He tumbled out of the hatch, landing face-first on the hard soil. Another foot then came up from under his hunched over body, smacking him in the stomach and knocking even more breath out of his lungs. Fortunately for Adam, a third hit didn’t come.
“He’s heading out the back!” Monty Pitts yelled. “Go get him!”
Adam twisted an anguish-filled face up at the big Master Chief. “Me? Why don’t you go get him?”
“I can’t. I have to keep an eye on Hannon.” Monty had a satisfied grin on his face as he and Tidus moved out of the ship, both their MK’s pointed at Mike. Although Hannon was armed and with his weapon out, he released the grip and let the gun twist on a finger. Then he dropped it to the ground.
He grinned. “I give up. You got me. Please don’t shoot.”
The words rang hollow, but they were good enough for the bounty hunters.
Monty kicked Adam in the butt. “Get up, lard-ass. There’s another bad guy to catch.”
Although there were another five Enforcers in the barn at the time, John Graham managed to slip past them. He’d spent three months in the barn, and he knew every crack and crevasse. As former SAS, he’d instinctively worked out this very scenario in his mind countless times. Now, it paid off.
What vegetation there was on Zafin was the blackened remains of old forests from the time before Kracion. Still, there were a lot of the ancient stalks to sprint between and around. Even so, he only had a vague idea where he was going. He’d placed ten thousand credits in a shallow hole along the route, just enough spending money to buy his way off the planet if the need arose. But to do that, he’d have to get to the city, and that was no easy task with Enforcers on the surface, and undoubtedly in orbit.
And then there was Adam bloody Cain. The brief encounter on Korash-Nor had come full circle. He kicked himself over his impulsiveness at the time. He should have let Cain go, chasing him off the planet instead of blowing up his convoy.
Maybe he was unstable, as the officers said, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on his shortcomings.
Adam recovered from the surprise kicks and set off after Graham. He ran at faster-than-normal Human speed—thanks to the residual effect from Panur’s mind meld years ago—leaving his Enforcer support troops in the dust. It wasn’t hard to follow Graham. Although he was running through a forest, it was a forest of sticks. He could clearly see the Human up ahead.
Then Graham suddenly slid to a stop and bent over, digging.
Adam was on him a few seconds later, leaping from ten feet out to crash sideways into the body. The pair locked arms and tumbled before Adam caught a left across his jaw. Graham was good, one of the best fighters he’d encountered in a while. But Adam had added strength and quickness; unfortunately, at his age, it only made him equal to the younger, fitter man.
But Adam wasn’t without skills of his own.
The men managed to get to their feet, exchanging a quick series of blocks and counter blocks without landing clean hits. Graham tried a spin kick, but Adam was ready for it. He stepped back while slapping down with his right arm. That was what Graham was expecting. He continued his spin, coming around again to land a hard right cross on Adam’s chin.
Adam saw stars while backstepping, keeping out of range. Then Graham stepped away himself, putting distance between the fighters. He pulled his MK from its holster and aimed it at Adam.
Adam had to think fast, accessing his ATD in record time and severing the firing controls. He was surprised he did it in time. Knowing what was coming, Adam prepared himself. The misfire of the weapon put Graham off balance, and sure enough, an instinctive furtive glance down at the weapon was enough time for Adam to launch himself, putting all his weight behind another crushing right jab.
This time, it was enough. Graham toppled backward, his eyes rolling back into his head. It only lasted a second before he began to recover, but by then, the other Enforcers had caught up and swarmed over Graham, pinning him and placing restraints on his wrists.
“Don’t forget his feet, too,” Adam said, panting and bruised. “And be sure to double lock him. He’s a Human; you know what assholes they can be.” He tried to smile, but his busted bottom lip stopped him with a grimace.
By the time the Enforcers dragged/carried Graham back to the barn, the place was swarming with both Enforcers and Juireans. Overlord Andon was there with his entourage of green-haired Guards, having just returned from the freighter. Techs came out of the speeder carrying the DMCs.
“Be careful with those,” Adam said. “They bite.”
The aliens didn’t get the reference, but they nodded anyway. They scurried away, climbing into an all-terrain vehicle outside the barn for the drive to the Class-3 five miles away.
Vodenik and Kovach were in restraints, sitting dejectedly and on a pair of old wooden crates that looked about ready to break. Mike Hannon was also in shackles, yet showing no signs of worry. Monty and Tidus were next to him, congratulating each other on a job well done. They were already counting their reward.
Adam walked up to them.
“Thank your Enforcers for us,” Monty said through a wide grin. “Great timing on finding where Graham was. That made all this possible.”
Adam smirked.
Andon came up to the group.
“It is all there,” he said, referring to the credits in the freighter. “And you, Marshal Cain, have the Dark Matter Collectors. I suppose there is only one thing left to do.”
He nodded to a green-haired Juirean Guard, who then stepped up to Mike and set about removing his restraints.
“Wait … what the hell?” Monty protested. Another eight-foot-tal
l Guard blocked his way.
“You fulfilled your obligation,” Andon said to Mike. “The stolen credits are recovered, and the Dark Matter Collectors shall be returned to the mutants. Furthermore, the Juirean Authority will lift our arrest order on you, although you are not to flaunt your freedom. The agreed-upon twenty-five million credits will be taken from the freighter before we depart. It is more than I would have allowed, but Adam Cain was responsible for that part of the negotiation. Spend it wisely, while being assured that the Juireans will no longer actively seek your capture for past crimes. However, new ones will place you back on our list.”
“My lord, this is not proper!” Tidus said. “You give the Human a reward for what he has done while setting him free? You may have made an arrangement, but what about us? He is our bounty.”
“You will receive half of the agreed-upon recovery fee. You are also ordered to remain silent on all affairs you have witnessed or been a part of, from the thefts of the Credit System to the Hannon accommodation. Is that understood?
“Half?” Monty said. “We only get half?”
“And I am being generous,” Andon scowled.
Tidus took Monty by the arm. “We shall accept the offer, my Lord, and hope to do further business with you in the future. Although I still protest.”
Andon considered the renegade Overlord for a moment before grunting and turning to Adam.
“The other two starships are still missing, and they contain equipment capable of penetrating our credit defenses. I trust you will hunt them down so we can put an end to this entire affair.”
“As we speak. Thanks to the homing devices Mr. Hannon placed aboard the vessels, they will be easy to track. We’re on top of it.”
“Good.” Andon turned back to Mike. “I do not forgive you for what you did to Counselor Quanin; however, I realize it was part of a conspiracy that involved senior Juireans as well. As such, it is a chapter in our history best forgotten.”
