Tyche's Deceit

by Richard Parry

  “Course,” said El, then staggered back. Kohl grabbed her, held her up. “Can fly anything with a stick,” she offered. “Walking’s hard though.”

  “What we’ve got is a situation,” said Nate. “Our car’s downstairs. There’s a bunch of debt collectors downstairs. They’re looking to make good on Hope’s bounty.” He paused, taking a look out the window. “Yeah, okay, so there’s a small ray of sunshine in this otherwise dark and miserable day.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Hope.

  Nate cast a glance at her, and Grace could feel his surprise/apology. “You’re good,” he said. “This isn’t on you.”

  “You mentioned a ray of sunshine,” said Grace, wanting to feel some of that light on her face.

  “I did,” said Nate, flashing a grin at the room and whomever in it was interested. Finding no takers, he let it slide into a frown. “Those guys downstairs aren’t real Republic.”

  “Got uniforms,” said Kohl.

  “Oh, sure,” said Nate. “It’s all a part of the sham. They’re bounty hunters, plain and simple. A debt this old? It’s been farmed off, handed to an agency. I’d guarantee it.”

  “You’re saying that like it’s a certainty,” said Grace. “But you also sound like you’re guessing.”

  “It’s a little of each column,” said Nate. “But mostly it’s a certainty. Almost positive. Nearly.”

  “Groovy,” sang El. She pulled out her sidearm, waving it around the room. Kohl and Nate ducked as it passed through where they were standing. El laughed, winced, and then looked surprised when the gun tumbled from her fingers to hit the ground.

  “Which means what?” said Grace. “Like, it’s a piece of information, but it doesn’t have a home to go to.”

  “There is that,” acknowledged Nate. He rubbed his chin. “If only we had some real Republic.”

  “Why’s that?” said Kohl, looking out the window, then back at Nate. “What’s real Republic, Cap?”

  “The ones where the uniform’s not just for show,” said Nate. He pulled out his blaster, sighting along the barrel, then spun it back into its holster.

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Kohl, glancing at Grace. Grace could feel uncertainty/guilt coming off him.

  She took a step forward. “Kohl. What did you do?”

  “Why’s it got to be something I did?” said the big man.

  “Because it’s you,” she said.

  “That’s a little unkind,” said Nate.

  “I guess,” she said. “Doesn’t stop it being true.”

  “Well,” said Kohl. “Let’s say I did something. But there was a way I could undo it. Like it never happened. That’d be the same thing as not doing it, wouldn’t it?” And there it was, uncertainty/guilt, but the guilt was stronger this time when his eyes met hers.

  “I could go,” said Hope, her small frame seeming stronger inside her rig. “If I go, they won’t try and come for the rest of you.” She shrugged in her rig, then picked up a small box, turning it over in her hands.

  “What?” said Nate. “No.” Hope continued to fiddle with the box, pulling out a small sidearm. Energy weapon by Grace’s guess. The rig around Hope hummed to life, arms reaching out to open the weapon up. Because that’s what Hope did: she fixed things, even when everything seemed pointless. Maybe that’s why Grace liked her. Because she had a heart bigger than the world deserved.

  “I think it’s a good plan,” said Kohl. Relief/escape. “Solid. Worth putting on the table.”

  “Definitely not,” said Grace. Push it. What’s going on here? “There’s no way that plan goes on the table.”

  “Do I get a vote?” said Harlow.

  “This the asshole from the bar?” said Kohl. “No way he gets a vote. He’s not crew.”

  “He’s not just the asshole from the bar. Harlow sold me the Tyche,” said Nate. “Old friend. But no, he doesn’t get a vote.”

  “Hey,” said Harlow, hands splayed, an eyebrow raised. “We should at least turn over all the stones. See what’s underneath.”

  “I’m with you,” said Kohl, slapping Harlow on the shoulder. “Let’s talk this out.”

  Talk. This. Out. From Kohl? “October Kohl, what did you do?” said Grace.

  “No one gets a vote,” said Nate, “because this ship doesn’t run under a committee.”

  “We ain’t on the ship,” said Kohl.

  Nate eyeballed him. “You want to go, Kohl?”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Because you could go. Down through those debt collectors. Try your luck, just you against all of them.” Nate took a step forward. “You think you could take them all?”

  “Maybe,” said Kohl, looking doubtful. He counted off on his fingers, lips moving. After a moment, he said, “Probably not.”

  “Then it’s not a committee,” said Nate.

  “What did you do, Kohl?” said Grace.

  All the air seemed to leave Kohl in a rush, the big man deflating. He was still bigger, taller than anyone else in the room, but in that moment Grace thought he looked smaller than a child. “I might have agreed to sell you out to the Republic.”

  “You what?” said Nate.

  “It was for two hundred thousand coins, Cap,” said Kohl, hands up. “Two. Hundred. Thousand.” He looked at the rest of them. Harlow first, because they didn’t know each other, but Harlow still knowing enough rough details to put an expression of disgust on his face. Hope, her face hidden by her visor, but her hands now cocked on her hips. El, who looked at Kohl, then held up a hand, and lumbered to the small kitchenette, retching into the sink. Eyes wary now, Kohl looked at Nate, took in the captain’s hand on the butt of his blaster. Then, to Grace. “It was a good deal,” he said. “It seemed like a great deal.”

  Grace felt sick, but it wasn’t the first time she’d been betrayed. Maybe this crew wasn’t for her. “Don’t sweat it, Kohl,” she said. “It makes you like everyone else.”

  “But,” he said. “I didn’t. I didn’t call them. Cap,” he said, turning to Nate. “You wanted real Republic? I call ’em, and we’ll be balls-deep in assholes.” Nate’s fingers twitched over his blaster, then he turned to the wall, jaw clenched, eyes wild. Disappointment/angst came off him like spray from the sea.

  “How would you call them?” said Harlow. He continued in a rush, as if not wanting his intent to be mistaken. “Is it a snatch and grab?”

  Kohl fished a small device from a pocket, holding it up. “I press this button,” said Kohl, “when I’m next to Gracie. They’ll come and do the rest.” He offered it to Grace. “Here.”

  “Two hundred grand,” said Grace. “You sure you don’t want a taste of that action?” But she took the device, considering it.

  “Well,” said Nate, turning back. “We don’t push that button. And we don’t send Hope out.” He ran his hand — the flesh and blood one — through his hair. “Where’s that leave us?”

  Grace sighed. “It leaves us out of options,” she said. It was a good crew. Maybe the best. Her eyes went to Kohl — sure, they’d made mistakes. They’d made big mistakes. But even when everything was stacked against them, they did the right thing in the end. They were too good for a grifter like her. Having a home might have been too much to hope for. Her eyes went to Hope, the young woman fixing the energy weapon. El, who’d come here against all odds to scoop Hope up against the might of a Republic that would crush them all. Then to Nate, the captain who played at being a pirate because he thought it’s what the world wanted of him.

  Except he wasn’t a pirate. He wasn’t built that way.

  There was one thing Grace could to for this crew. Whether the Republic got her was a matter of debate; she was good at running, and better at hiding. But she knew these people deserved more than to be scooped up alongside her. If the Republic got her now, while Kohl was under contract to apprehend Grace? The boot of justice might not press on them at all. Grace could choose the manner of her passing, and the rest of them would be left to chart a n
ew course into the hard black. They wouldn’t be taken up: she could protect them from that at least.

  Grace pressed the button.

  • • •

  Her sword itched at her hand, like it wanted to be drawn. Like it was thirsty.

  There was a crump of an explosive charge, the walls vibrating a little with it. Dust and plaster fell from the ceiling around Grace, and she looked up, hand shielding her eyes. “What was that?”

  “Whoring and coring,” said Kohl. He had Reiko slung over his shoulder like a sack of laundry, her arms bouncing against his back. “They get to the roof and just burn holes down through the floors.”

  “At least we’ve got their attention,” said Nate, leading the way down the corridor. “Bounty hunters coming up from below, Republic from on high. This will be a wild ride.”

  “We need to get out of here,” said Harlow. “And by here, I mean this hallway.”

  “Good idea. Lemme use my boot key,” said Kohl, turning to a door on his left. He took a step back, Reiko jouncing against him, and then kicked the door off its hinges. It tumbled into an apartment much like Reiko’s; worn, tired, missing hope. They moved into the room, fanning out. No one home; it smelled like no one had been there for a whiles.

  The walls shook with another crump. There was a crash from behind them, towards Reiko’s apartment. The shouting of soldiers, surprised at finding Kohl’s transmitter, left in the room.

  Grace held up her hand, the crew stilling around her. She was picking up a storm of confusion/alert/hunt from behind them, and a lighter shade of confusion/caution from farther back. More souls, all feeling much the same thing. She smiled, pushing a strand of dark hair out of her face. “The party,” she said, “is getting started.”

  “Hey,” called out a man’s voice from the hallway, gruff in all the wrong ways, like he’d been swallowing sharp rocks his entire life. “This is a bounty operation. Sanctioned.”

  “This is a hunt for an enemy of the Republic. It takes precedence over your bounty hunt,” said a woman’s voice, smooth like honey.

  “Sounds like they’re getting along fine,” hissed Nate.

  Reiko groaned from Kohl’s shoulder. Kohl gave the woman a shake. “Quiet.”

  “Wuzz,” said Reiko.

  “Are you okay?” said Hope, her voice amplified through her rig. Her hand went up to cover the speaker, but too late.

  “What was that?” said Honey.

  “Sounds like my bounty,” said Billy Goat Gruff.

  “Stand down!” said Honey.

  “Eat a dick, pig,” said Billy Goat Gruff.

  “Help!” screamed Reiko. “They’re in here!”

  “Jesus,” said Nate, shoulders slumping. “Kohl? We need an exit.”

  “On it,” said Kohl, dropping Reiko to the ground, ignoring her arms as they tried to slap and claw at him. He eyed a wall, tipped his shoulder, and ran straight for it. The drywall crumbled around him, and he burst into the neighboring apartment. There was a scream and a yell — that one’s not empty — and Kohl was yelling to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.

  Reiko drew a breath to scream again, and Grace drew her sword in the same moment. It licked out to rest against the other woman’s neck, causing Reiko’s breath to freeze in her chest. “Go on,” said Grace.

  Reiko shook her head, swallowing. Her neck scraped against the blade.

  “Grace,” said Hope. Desperation/fear/pain/pain. “Grace, she’s my wife.”

  “She is all that is ugly in your life,” said Grace, but she lowered her sword.

  Reiko eyed Hope, then Grace. She said to Hope, “You’ll thank me. You will. You’ll see.” Then she yelled, “They’re in here!”

  Hope’s frame canted back in surprise, and if Grace could see her face she’d bet it would mirror the shock/denial coming off her friend. The visor of her rig slipped back off her face. “Reiko!” she said. “What are you doing?”

  “Saving us,” said Reiko. “Us, Hope.”

  “I should have shot her,” said El, then looked too tired to do it, slumping against the remains of the wall Kohl had gone through.

  “You’re not thinking straight,” said Hope. “Your head—”

  “Out of the way, pig!” said Billy Goat Gruff from down the hall.

  “Stand down!” shouted Honey.

  “We’ve got to go,” said Grace.

  Kohl’s head poked back through the hole in the wall. “Uh,” he said. “Cap?”

  Nate looked like he wanted to murder someone, but it wasn’t a highly specific look. If Grace was rolling the dice on it, she figured he was disappointed at himself. For not leaving Reiko behind, for not finessing the situation a little better. For not being a pirate, or a captain, or whatever else he had in his head. “Yeah,” he said.

  There was the crackle-roar of a plasma weapon discharging from down the corridor, then the whine-chunk of a laser discharging. No screams, which meant no one was down, and Grace wasn’t wanting to wait to find out which way it would go. She grabbed Hope’s arm. “Let’s go.” She hustled Hope towards the hole in the wall, casting a glance back at Reiko. Reiko turned to Hope, then back towards the broken door. Then she turned and ran, charging out the doorway, shouting, “In here, in here—”

  Just like that, she was turned into a pillar of fire. A blast of plasma caught her, turning her frame into a torch as she was tossed back out of view. Hope screamed, her hands outstretched, her whole body and soul wanting to run out that door. Grace fought her, really fought, her feet planted. “Hope! She’s gone!”

  Hope’s frame sagged into a sob, Grace pushing her through the breached wall. She gave a glance to El, whose eyes were closed, still leaning against the wall. “El?”

  “My head hurts and I can’t see right,” said El. “I just need a minute.”

  Nate stepped forward, shook El by the shoulder. “Helm.”

  “Cap.”

  “Helm! I need you on duty. I need you, El. We’ve got a ship that needs flying. We’ve got a crew spun about. I need my navigator.” Nate let her go, El’s eyes opening. “I can’t fly them all home,” he said. “I don’t have the charts.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap,” said El, her frame coming upright and to attention, albeit a little lopsided. She turned through the breach, walking after Kohl and Hope.

  “Now you,” said Nate. His eyes found Grace’s. “You’ve got to get clear, Grace Gushiken.”

  “You know this is the end of the line for me,” said Grace. “I pressed that button and it was over.”

  “This still isn’t a committee,” said Nate. “We’re leaving. Together.”

  There was another salvo of plasma fire from the doorway, bolts chewing into the frame, fire breaking out. Grace ducked her head against the shower of burning meat, shaking her head. “Together?”

  “That’s the way I was thinking,” said Nate.

  “Deal,” said Grace.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NATE WAS ON Grace’s heels, Kohl leading the way. Hope and El were strung between them, El with her sidearm out but no real inclination to use it, Hope’s visor back up, hiding her tears and her shame. As if she has anything to be ashamed of. I should have seen this coming.

  Time for recriminations later.

  The ceiling ahead of them ruptured in, ceramicrete and plaster showering in. A Republic solder followed the debris down, gun out. Red light licked against his frame, and there was a whine-wizzchunk as Kohl’s carbine discharged, turning the soldier into a spray of red, white, and black. A grenade tumbled through the opening, but Kohl caught it in midair, tossing it back up through the hole. There was a shout of surprise a moment before it discharged, a bright light filling the room, chunks of ceiling falling around them.

  Nate turned back, shaking his head to clear it. A debt collector stood in the doorway, a clunky weapon — good Goddamn, is that a net gun? — held out. He looked surprised to see Nate, but that surprise vanished as he turned into a burning ruin as plasma caught him from be
hind. Nate raised his blaster, squeezing a few shots through the breach. Far from keeping their heads down, an answering fusillade of fire flashed through the breach.

  “It’s on, pig!” screamed Billy Goat Gruff from somewhere behind them, punctuated by the bark of plasma discharge. There was a scream, then another crump as something exploded, Nate falling to one knee as his metal leg caught on a piece of ceramicrete.

  “Cap!” said Kohl. “This way!” The big man opened a door to the corridor, taking in a woman with a net catcher and a surprised expression. He swung a fist, catching the woman in the jaw, and the net catcher discharged. The net caught nothing but air, hitting a wall and sliding down. Kohl ran ahead of them.

  Nate looked down at the bounty hunter. She had a young face, but everyone seemed to when they were out cold. He shrugged, stepping over the woman. There was a Republic soldier outside, bundled in a net, struggling to get free, which was really someone else’s problem, so Nate jogged on by.

  From up ahead, Kohl’s carbine whined again, and again, and again, the third time accompanied by the slop-gush of ladled soup, but much louder. Nate looked down at his blaster, and thought: well, this is it. You’ve conquered delegation and made yourself redundant. Nice work.

  Then he was caught as a net lifted him off his feet, wrapped him in a ball, and tossed him down the corridor. He got glimpses of floor-ceiling-floor-ceiling as he rolled, his arms pinned to his side. He came to rest, seeing a debt collector with a discharged net gun behind them through the web of that very same net. The debt collector was reloading the weapon, placing a big cartridge of netting in the front, which was a thing that wouldn’t end well if he got it sorted. So Nate wriggled, got his blaster out, and pressed the trigger. A bright flash of plasma tore a chunk out of the wall beside the debt collector. A total miss, but being fair on himself, his arms were tied to his sides, by way of a net, his faced pressed against the dirty carpet.

  The carpet was also tacky. Best not to think about that.

  The debt collector got his weapon reloaded, which might have been a poor choice of activities. It would have been better to ready a different device, perhaps some kind of energy weapon that turned carbon-based lifeforms into slag.