Dirty Deeds

by Mark Wandrey

  “Why should I help you?”

  “Because I’m the only one who will.”

  The detective looked defiant, then confused, and finally he looked defeated. “They’re here to stay,” he said, part question, part statement of fact.

  “Probably,” Murdock confirmed. “Unless I can convince them otherwise.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  * * *

  “Do you think he’ll rat us out?” Vince asked as they made their way past the remains of the police station, acting like they were shocked locals gawking at the destruction.

  “Possibly,” Murdock admitted. “But he never came across as a shitbag. An asshole cop, sure, but not some shitbag who’d betray his own country.” The kid nodded as they walked. What we need is information from outside the system, Murdock thought.

  His next stop was the city’s small AetherNet office. He found a pair of HecSha troopers standing outside the main entrance. They had the sort of bored, indifferent look any merc gets when an operation didn’t prove to be as eventful as you’d hoped. He crept around the corner for a minute and observed them, thinking it through.

  “We gonna nail them?” Vince asked.

  “We could,” Murdock said, “only I would have to do the nailing, because that popgun of yours wouldn’t do more than piss them off.” Vince glanced down at his belt where the gun he’d given him was hidden under a raincoat. “The HecSha have skins like this thick,” Murdock said and held his index finger and thumb an inch apart. The kid looked sullen. “Their brains aren’t much bigger.” The last elicited a smile. “We’re just out here for intel.”

  “I can do that,” Vince said, and before Murdock could stop him, the boy was trotting around the corner toward the two alien troopers.

  “Goddamned kid,” he snarled under his breath, pulling back around the street corner so he was almost invisible to the HecSha and reaching under the raincoat to draw his HP-4.

  The HecSha noticed Vince only a second after he came around the corner. Both turned their beady eyes on him warily, then spoke to each other. They were too far away for Murdock to hear what they said. Both stopped, raising their weapons, and eased their postures. Son of a bitch, Murdock thought as Vince walked right up to them and stopped.

  Both of the dinosaur-like aliens eyed him curiously. It looked like Vince was asking them a question. One spat something in reply and pointed back the way Vince had come. The boy spoke again, and the alien repeated himself, pointing. Vince just sat down in the street. The aliens looked completely dumbfounded. Murdock hoped he wasn’t pushing it too far. They talked to each other again, then said something to Vince. The kid got up and started walking back toward Murdock, though slower than he’d walked toward them. Before long he came around the corner.

  Murdock didn’t know if he wanted to hug the boy or smack him in the head. Is this what being a parent feels like? he wondered. “What were you thinking?” he finally asked.

  “That we needed intel, like you said,” the boy told him with a serious expression.

  “If you ever do something like that again…” Murdock thought furiously, “so help me, I’ll find someplace, tie your skinny little ass up, and feed you fish soup for the rest of this.” The little fucker stared daggers at him. “I’m serious, but it doesn’t mean you can’t help.” He pointed a knife hand at the kid’s chest, jabbing him once with it for effect. “You listening to me, merc?” The kid’s eyes glistened, and Murdock felt his resolve loosen. “From now on, you tell me your idea, we talk about it, and I say yay or nay. What I say goes, you got it? I’m your commander; that’s how it works.”

  “Yes, sir,” Vince said and tossed him a salute.

  “And you don’t salute anymore.”

  “Why?” Vince asked.

  “Enemies see I’m an officer, I can get my ass shot off.”

  “Oh!” he said, eyes wide.

  It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed, though aliens seldom understood human salutes and such. He just didn’t want that sort of ritual catching on with the kid, or the other men who were crazy enough to follow him.

  “Well,” Murdock said, “what did you get?”

  Vince held out his translator for the older man. Murdock had given him one shortly after he’d come to live with him. The devices were ubiquitous in the Union, costing less than ten credits and available everywhere. They were essential for daily existence, and most people wore one as naturally as they put on their pants every morning.

  “They were mumbling about orders or something,” he said to Murdock.

  “Let me see if it got anything more,” Murdock said and got his slate out to interface with the translator. He hadn’t wanted to buy the kid a new one, especially as he had three in his gear. They were tough little machines, but not indestructible. He remembered a handful of times one had been smashed during combat in a CASPer, and twice just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  The advantage now of having given the kid one of his old ones was they weren’t the run-of-the-mill translators; merc units had detailed recording features. It didn’t hurt to have a recorder hanging around your neck if the shit hit the fan, and you’d been given terrible orders.

  The slate accessed the translator’s short-term memory and downloaded it. If the damned kid had given him a little warning, Murdock could have set the thing for a more detailed recording, which used more memory. Despite that, the device could hear a lot. The slate sorted the data and fed the two HecSha mercs’ conversation into Murdock’s own translator, which was already paired to it.

  “It is safe,” one alien said.

  “Are you sure, sergeant?” the other replied.

  “Yes, it is a hatchling Human. They are harmless.”

  Murdock grunted and smiled. You think young Humans are harmless, do you? He wasn’t aware he was grinning.

  “Hey,” Vince’s voice came through, “my AetherNet connection isn’t working.”

  “What is AetherNet, Human hatchling?” the HecSha sergeant asked.

  “You know, GalNet?”

  “Oh,” the sergeant said. The alien made the ‘go away’ gesture. “Leave, hatchling, this is a dangerous place.”

  “But I want to play games,” Vince persisted, sounding much younger and more innocent than Murdock knew he really was.

  “It really is harmless, isn’t it?” the other HecSha said, with a huffing sound the translator indicated was laughter.

  “They truly are,” the sergeant replied, “difficult to believe they become so dangerous when they mature.” The volume of his voice increased as he spoke to Vince. “We are copying your planet’s database, as was ordered by the general. You will have your games back in a day or so.”

  “Okay,” Vince said. Murdock remembered him waving and walking away.

  “Be safe, hatchling,” the subordinate HecSha said.

  “Best not to be too friendly,” the sergeant said, “lest we must execute Order 9.”

  Murdock tapped notes into the slate and stored the conversation. He glanced at the kid, who was watching several women going by carrying baskets of fish. The women kept their heads down and didn’t make eye contact with either of the men. “Kid,” he said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I apologize for barking at you about going out there. You got some good intel.”

  “Yeah?” the kid asked, his face brightening like a sunrise.

  “Yeah. But you still better not do it again without my say so.”

  “I won’t, sir.”

  “Good.” Murdock sorted his notes, then made adjustments to the kid’s translator. Now paired with Murdock’s slate, he could access it from a kilometer away, issue orders to it, record, and talk to the kid. An idea was beginning to form in his mind. “You know a few kids around here, right?”

  “Sure,” Vince said. “I’ve played kickball with some of them a couple times.”

  Murdock nodded and grinned. It might just work. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get out
of here before we attract more astute observation.”

  The pair skirted the few main roads and kept to side streets until Murdock reached the next objective. There’d been painfully little sign of people on the road until now. He finally understood why there’d been so few civilians around. As they approached the entertainment district, they found themselves in a huge crowd of despondent looking people.

  “What’s this?” Vince wondered.

  “I think I know,” Murdock answered, “that’s why I brought us this way.” He leaned close and whispered into the kid’s ear. “Go over there by that media kiosk and wait for me.” The boy looked askance, and Murdock pointed a big finger at his face. “Follow my orders.”

  “Yes, sir,” Vince said and walked away. He looked as hangdog as the rest of the crowd.

  Once the boy was safely out of the way, Murdock began pushing into the crowd. He didn’t take undue advantage of his size, though he did use it to aid his passage. A couple times one of the people would cast a glare at him, see his face, and quietly give way.

  It took several minutes of careful progress to approach the amphitheater. A fence had been erected around the area set up for outdoor concerts, and it was now crowded with men, women, and children. When they’d come upon the crowd, Murdock had guessed this was what he’d find ahead. The fishermen had told him the aliens rounded up a bunch of the people and put them here, which was why he’d come.

  There looked to be about 1,000 people inside the fences, with only a squad of HecSha guarding them. Maybe 10,000 civilians were outside, trying to see the people being detained. For a second he considered making a break then and there, until he got up to the fence and saw the Xiq’tal.

  There were several squads of the huge crab-like aliens stationed around the amphitheater, obviously tasked with guarding the prisoners. He’d been half hoping the dropship lying near his house held all the crustacean fuckers, though he’d also figured it hadn’t. This was an impressive operation. Whoever had set it up had obviously sent the crabs because the planet was a water world. The alien crabs all held specially-designed ballistic guns in a claw and were scanning the crowd with their eyes on short stalks. He was pretty sure the HecSha were in charge.

  He decided to take a chance and moved up to the gate. “Hey,” he said to a man he didn’t recognize, whom he’d chosen on purpose.

  “Yeah?” the guy said.

  “You know Sheela Dresdin?” The man looked at him curiously. “She probably has her daughter Shannon with her.”

  “I know who she is,” another man said. Murdock glanced at the speaker and cringed inwardly. It was the man who owned the shop just next to Shell Game. He got ready to run. “I know you too, and I’m glad you’re out there, not in here.”

  Murdock breathed. “I should be dead,” he said. The man lifted an eyebrow. “They tried real hard, but they’re the ones who got dead.”

  “Good,” the man said. The other man watched the conversation with some interest.

  “Can you find her for me?” Murdock asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” the man said and disappeared. A few others moved closer to look at Murdock. At least one more face carried the signs of recognition. Murdock ground his teeth and prayed these people didn’t hold him responsible for what happened. It was a long five minutes before Sheela came through the crowd of prisoners around the perimeter fence.

  “Murdock!” she squeaked.

  “Hush, woman!” he snapped as quietly as he could. The look of excitement crashed as she looked back and forth. Of course by then, most of those around them knew who he was, or suspected. “I just wanted to see you’re okay.”

  “I am,” she said. He could see she was disheveled and had a few scratches and bruises. No evidence of serious damage was visible. “Those damned crabs showed up at the house, knew who we were, and dragged me and Shannon to this…concentration camp.”

  “Okay, I just needed to know you’re okay. I’ll see you before long.”

  “Wait, what?” she complained. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to get me out of here?”

  “All in good time,” he said, then leaned closer. “I won’t forget you, but this is bigger than just you right now.”

  “But you can get us out,” she quietly begged.

  “Yeah, I probably can,” he agreed, “but at what cost?” She looked profoundly disappointed and confused until the man next to her leaned over and spoke to her.

  “He’s just one man,” he said, “do you think he can kill all these crabs and those dinosaurs?” The look on her face clearly said she thought he could, and that made him smile.

  “I need time to work this,” he said. “I promise it won’t stand.” She looked down, and he spoke again. “I care for you, Sheela. Do you trust me?”

  “What choice do I have?” she asked. “I have to trust you.”

  “You don’t have to, but I hope you will. I’ll get you out of here.” He looked up and over all the others. “I’ll get all of you out of here.” Heads all nodded in agreement.

  “Be careful?” she whispered.

  “I will,” he said. One of the Xiq’tal was shuffling toward all the talk along the fence. He’d brought too much attention on himself. He smoothly backed into the crowd and was gone long before the crab was close enough to get a good look at him. The kid was right where he’d told him to go, which was a pleasant surprise.

  “All the people they caught in there?” Vince asked, guessing what was going on.

  “Yeah,” Murdock said as he moved them back toward the hideout.

  “We going to get them out?”

  “As soon as possible,” Murdock said. In his head he worked on a plan, all the while trying to forget the look Sheela had given him as he’d walked away.

  * * * * *

  Part III

  Old Mercs Never Die

  Chapter One

  “Report Inbound,” Murdock’s slate chimed. He rolled out of the cot and touched the screen; data began to scroll. Oho, he thought as he read, now this is interesting. He checked the time display on a tiny Tri-V over the table holding the slate, a small light cube, and his pistol. “04:49,” it said. He yawned; it was more than an hour before he’d planned to rise. Regardless, the early bird gets the dinosaur.

  He got up and stretched. His shoulder gave a painful twinge, which he ignored, and he did some more stretches. A dozen more light cubes were scattered around the safehouse, all glowing dimly to provide enough light for the occupants to see what was going on, while simultaneously putting any intruders at a severe disadvantage.

  “What’s up?” a voice asked.

  Murdock turned his head to see Mika’s eyes glowing slightly in the glow of her light cube. He could just discern the shape of her body under the covers and ground his teeth. She’d made the same offer again, and he’d damned near taken her up on it. The look on her face was hopeful, not knowing he’d just gotten intel. Fuck, he thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “One of the wolf pups reported in,” he said.

  “They okay?” she asked, her face changing to worry.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s good news.” The other old mercs hadn’t been entirely on board with his idea. However, none of them had been harmed so far, and the results spoke for themselves. “Wake the others, and we’ll talk.”

  He moved by memory across the room as Mika started waking the others. All of them had shifted from their laid-back lifestyle, transitioning to the old ways incredibly quickly. Even Dod was awake in seconds, turning his ancient cybernetic leg on with an audible mechanical whine and reaching for his false teeth.

  The next room over was an improvised head, where he took a piss and brushed his teeth. Basic sanitation on deployment was essential. The bucket and basin shower they’d set up was kept busy. Luckily, fresh water on Valais was never a problem. The building had a huge cistern filled via rainwater. It was cold as fuck, since winter was approaching. You couldn’t have everything. Greenstein was working on a power accum
ulator to ‘borrow’ energy from neighboring locations. If it worked, they’d have hot water.

  He tapped the cube light to life in the little kitchen that served as a meeting room and started the teapot. The brew was synthetic, packets stolen from an autochef at the starport. The caffeine worked well enough. He filled a big cracked cup to the top, sprinkled some fake creamer in it, and gave the brew a stir. It smelled good enough. He lit the stub of a cigar as he drank the tea. A solar-powered fan on his side of the kitchen took care of the smoke. His fellow mercs didn’t mind, much. Anyway, a lot of the old timers smoked. Luckily for his supply, none of his buddies did.

  “Morning,” Kelso said as he limped in. His arthritis was acting up, though he hadn’t voiced a single complaint. A buzz of electric tracks announced Ripper’s arrival. Dolan, Greenstein, and Dandridge were right behind them. He could see Mika squatting on the commode, relieving herself. You didn’t get to be a merc, man or woman, by being gun-shy of performing basic bodily functions around the opposite sex.

  “Jesus Christ,” Dod growled from the bathroom, “drain that thing and get out of the way before I piss myself!”

  “Just give me a second, you nasty old fuck, ” Mika snapped. Laughter rumbled through the room.

  A minute later, they were all in the kitchen, tea in hand. One of their collaborators had delivered fresh cinnamon muffins two days ago, and everyone had one. More often than not, lately, it was cornbread and fishcakes, for all three meals. He put the tiny bit of cigar away as he finished up, and Mika gave him a wink of appreciation.

  “So what’s up?” Ripper asked, opening the meeting as they munched the muffins. Ripper had become Murdock’s second in command by default, mostly because it was so hard for him to get out without attracting attention to himself.

  “What did your pups find?” Mika asked.

  Murdock pointed at her and nodded. He picked up his slate and linked with the Tri-V on the small table in the center of the room. “As you all know, over the last week, thanks to all the hard work of Vince and friends, we’ve recruited six groups of wolf pups.”