For a Few Credits More: More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 7)

by Chris Kennedy

  “Nah, I’ve got everything I need in my pockets.”

  Ivan didn’t mention the fact he was currently homeless. In the time that had passed since they left, he hadn’t paid rent. He’d received a notice of eviction when the credits from the transport job cleared his yak.

  “Now, remember, you aren’t here to play. Just make a show of gambling and lure your bookie out. I understand you have credits to spend; just don’t get carried away.”

  Ivan laughed as he straightened his new gear and increased his pace toward the Luck of the Draw. He had kept his badass duster, despite being told not to, but everything underneath it was practically new. Most importantly, he could walk through the front door of the cantina with his chest out, instead of skulking in the shadows.

  Saxet was a sandy, dust-covered planet, and the Luck of the Draw was situated on the edge of the slums. Ivan knew three alternate routes into the building, but was happy to use the front door for a change.

  When they finally reached the gates to the courtyard, they met a four-armed hulk of a guard. Unlike before, Ivan proudly allowed his yack to be scanned. The surplus of credits confirmed his entry.

  “Thanks, Tiny,” he said as he brushed past the brute.

  Boudicca walked in first, and Ivan waited a few minutes to follow. Once inside, he could see she was leaning against the rearmost wall, just a few feet from the door to the back alley. The bar was buzzing with activity, and everyone was on their feet cheering some big event. Ivan found the closest table to his boss, took a seat, then put his feet up on the table. Genuinely interested in the commotion, he pulled out his slate to see what was available to bet on.

  “Do you never learn?” Crovax asked from behind him.

  The large weasel’s head, neck, and shoulders all slipped around Ivan. The furry bastard was staring him right in the face. Ivan had heard Zupartis could fit their entire bodies through a hole if they managed to get their heads through. He just hoped the weasel wouldn’t be able to fit his head through the bars in the Mab’s brig.

  “Crovax, how’ve you been?”

  Staring at him with no expression, the bookie stabbed at Ivan’s chest with his furry little fingers. “Cut the chatter and pay up.”

  Ivan nodded and punched some commands into his slate. In a moment, his debts were paid. Seeing the notification scroll across the screen of his own tablet, Crovax motioned for his guards to disperse.

  “Well done, so let’s talk about your next line of credit,” the weasel said in a purring, coaxing manner, rubbing his paws together and blinking his eyes. The sudden change in demeanor was alarming.

  The bookie wouldn’t have been so happy if he knew the truth: the credits Ivan had just sent weren’t real. In an hour or so, thanks to a computer code Boudicca provided, the payment would bounce like a bad line of credit.

  “Crovax, my friend,” said Ivan as he patted the top of the weasel’s head, “I don’t need your fucking help anymore.”

  Ivan pulled his feet off the table, which was the signal for Boudicca to send tranquilizer darts into the bookie’s back. The timing was perfect, because whatever was happening on the Tri-Vs had everyone on their feet and was creating a needed distraction.

  “Nighty night, asshole,” Ivan whispered as Crovax’s wide, red eyes drooped and then closed. He didn’t feel as slick when the animal’s deadweight landed on his chest and almost caused his chair to flip backwards.

  Lurching to his feet and lifting the knocked-out bookie, he braced as Boudicca approached and grabbed the weasel. She was much larger than Crovax and easily hoisted him. She squatted as she carried him out the back entrance to the alley. Ivan followed behind, wondering where the goon who normally manned the back door had gone.

  “Hold him for a moment,” said Boudicca. She tossed the weasel onto his shoulder, and he felt his knees almost give out. “Get moving; I’ll take care of this door.”

  Ivan shuffled down the alley, careful not to trip over the body of the missing guard. The four-armed humanoid had three metallic darts sticking out of the side of his neck and was bleeding from the nose and mouth. Grit was already caking the crimson fluid, devouring it. Ivan pulled goggles down over his eyes with a free arm as the sandstorm picked up. A loud hissing noise pulled his attention backward.

  Boudicca was spraying yellowish foam onto the door. The puffy spackle adhered to the cracks of the door and began expanding. In a few moments, the entire exit was covered. When she finished with the door, she caught up with Ivan and snatched the bookie away from him.

  The run to their shuttle was exhausting. How Boudicca could keep such a pace while carrying the bookie was beyond his understanding. They were home free once they cleared the city proper and entered the docks, although it took them another few minutes to reach the shuttle. There, they restrained the unconscious Zuparti and prepared for takeoff.

  “That was smooth,” Boudicca said as she started the pre-flight checks.

  The rest of the departure was filled with stony silence. Ivan’s chest heaved as he tried to slow his breathing. Once his heart stopped pounding, his mind started to wander.

  “I can never go back,” he said. “We just kidnapped Crovax and took out a guard.”

  “We’re bounty hunters, and this scumbag bookie of yours has a detainment warrant for failure to declare taxable commerce,” said Boudicca. “You knew this would be the outcome.”

  “I did,” Ivan replied. “I just hadn’t considered what the next step would be, or what I would do once we turn him over and collect our pay for the Tier-4 contract.”

  Boudicca’s laughter almost ruined her smooth takeoff.

  “Turn him over? Did you honestly think your Zuparti bookie was the Tier-4 target? We were given provisional authority to detain him so we could interrogate him. I believe he’s the first step toward a high-priority target, and I convinced the Peacemaker Guild to have an arrest warrant on standby if this is true.”

  “Who is the main target?” asked Ivan. “Why wasn’t I told of any of this?”

  Boudicca laughed, again.

  “Your old bookie will tell us about the main target. As for sharing, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you with this information. Regardless, now you know. Continue to improve and you’ll see your access increase.”

  Ivan stared out the window. He felt too old to be playing these games. Worse, now he didn’t have a home. Would he have to go back to Earth? Looking at the Mab approaching on the shuttle sensors, he began scheming how to make his temporary dwelling on board more permanent.

  RNS Mabinogion, near Planet Saxet

  Crovax floated, still unconscious, in the Mab’s brig until Boudicca initiated a series of high-pitched sounds. The noise was ear splitting and shook the metal cage in which the drugged Zuparti drifted. With a screeching noise, the bookie’s red eyes shot open, and his entire body began to flail in panic.

  “Relax, you’re in a zero-g environment. You’re not falling to your doom…for now,” said Boudicca. “You have been detained by order of the Peacemaker Guild regarding illegal, unreported, and untaxed gambling income. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Crovax’s long, slim body twisted in the air to view the source of the accusation. His whiskers twitched as he looked at his canine captor. But when the bookie saw Ivan, he growled and bared his teeth. Boudicca ignored the outburst and continued speaking. Her face and body language betrayed little emotion.

  “The provisions granted to me by the Peacemakers allow me to utilize any interrogation method I see fit, if it does not result in the detainee’s death or permanent disfigurement. This is fortunate for me, not so much for you.”

  She flipped a switch on the cage surrounding the bookie, which activated high-powered, adjustable electromagnets. Crovax shouted as the metal cuffs that had been attached to his wrists and ankles suddenly began to pull taught, as if they were bound by invisible chains. Instead of drifting, his body hovered rigidly in a spread-eagle.

  “This is the lowest
setting. Let’s see how long it takes before my medical robot has to repair your connective tissues.”

  The unfolding spectacle was made all the sweeter when Ivan thought back to the beating Crovax and his goons had given him. The weasel let out a squeal as Boudicca increased the magnetic pull on his limbs.

  “Ask! Please! Just ask!” the bookie yelped. “You haven’t asked me anything!”

  Boudicca glanced back at Ivan and gave him a shrug. “Sometimes silence is the best interrogation tool. Well, that and some high-powered magnets.”

  She turned her attention back to their captive. Ivan hadn’t seen this side of her before, and decided he would avoid getting on her shit-list.

  “I know who you work for and,” —while she spoke, she slowly increased the power— “your only way out of this is to lead me to him. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your life in servitude. After, I dislocate all of your joints—”

  “Lucky! They call him Lucky,” Crovax shouted, cutting her off midsentence. “He leads the Tarva branch of the Bizons. I’ll take you to him, but you’ve got to let me go. Tarvas are insane; they’ll kill me for sure.”

  She reduced the power, and the bookie sagged in mid-air as some tension was relieved. Crovax took advantage of the lull and continued.

  “Lucky is establishing a hunting enterprise called the Game. He’s managing the formation and supervising the hunts.”

  Boudicca stared at the sniveling Zuparti with a blank expression then made her demands.

  “Tell me everything: when, where, and how many credits it will take to convince your master to allow us to participate.”

  RNS Mabinogion, near Planet Sierra 2282

  The trip to Sierra 2282, a recently discovered planet, was uneventful. This was the location Crovax claimed Lucky was using to set up an off-the-books enterprise that organized the hunting of sentient beings. While the Mab navigated on auto-pilot, Ivan and Boudicca spent their time digging up all the information they could find on Lucky, the Tarva species, and the Bizon Syndicate.

  Ivan enjoyed their frequent trips down to the brig to pick Crovax’s mind. His ex-bookie was now more willing to share, so he’d been receiving better treatment. Boudicca recorded these softer interrogation sessions to provide to the Peacemakers. She explained to him how she tweaked her contracts to allow for higher payments, simply by providing extra intelligence information to the guild. Ivan couldn’t argue with extra credits.

  He felt an odd closeness to Boudicca. It was almost like they were becoming friends. This sort of connection was something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since Viktor died. The more time he spent strategizing about the mission, the less time he spent talking to his ghosts.

  Just do it, Ivan. The worst she can do is say no, he told himself while he shaved. He’d been working up the courage to ask Boudicca to allow him to stay on as her apprentice. He didn’t have a home anymore, and going back to Earth wasn’t something he was ready for.

  The focus on grooming, he hoped, would make him appear more professional. His long black hair was now shorter and slicked back, and his wild beard was trimmed into a goatee. The hair being kempt made the veins of gray running through it more apparent.

  Ivan jumped as the speaker in his room squelched.

  “We are approaching the planet. Get up here,” said Boudicca.

  Ivan glanced into the mirror one more time, trying to shake the feeling Viktor was staring back, then he turned toward the hatch and used a handheld magnetic tether to navigate down the passageways to the bridge. The small device used compressed air to launch a tethered magnet at moderate speed. Then the user was pulled along toward the lock-point. The process was simple: fire, attach, glide, detach, and repeat as necessary.

  Once Ivan reached the bridge, he activated his mag-boots and walked the final few steps. He hated how much work the metal-soled boots were, but he also knew flying headfirst into the compartment wasn’t advisable. Ivan was surprised to see a large number of crewmembers working on the bridge as he strutted in.

  “What’s going on, boss?”

  Boudicca looked up from the sensor readings she was studying.

  “The planet is currently locked in an ownership stalemate between three massive corporations. While there are some surveyors on the planet mapping out potential building locations, there shouldn’t be anyone in this location.”

  Boudicca pointed to an area of thick vegetation with a cleared area in the middle in the shape of a square. A number of tiny dots indicated a cluster of lifeforms. Ivan leaned in toward the sensor screens to examine closer.

  “Do you think the Bizons are paying to play there, or do you think they are squatting?” he asked.

  “That is the correct question,” she replied, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. “The implications of the Syndicate paying a corporation to run untaxed enterprises on a locked planet would certainly be news to the Peacemakers and the Merchants Guild.”

  Boudicca opened a comms line to the brig and asked for Crovax be escorted to the bridge while Ivan studied the readings from the planet. There appeared to be some small craft flying around the surface near a makeshift camp or fortification.

  Once the bookie made it to the bridge, he was reminded of the deal they had struck. If Crovax’s actions led to the capture of the high-priority target, he could walk away from the whole situation untouched. Better yet, with his master gone, he’d be free. Gripping the communicator in both of his paws like it was a piece of food, Crovax chittered into it.

  “All nearby pilots, I’m bringing in a customer to Lucky. My authentication code and slave ID are attached to this data packet. We will transfer to the planet via shuttle.”

  Crovax sounded supremely confident when he spoke, but his entire body trembled as he handed the comms device back to Boudicca.

  “Affirmative. Follow the landing beacons and wait to disembark until your escort arrives,” said the disembodied voice over the bridge speakers.

  With the landing data from the security craft, the three boarded the Mab’s short-range shuttle and headed out the hangar bay. Just prior to entering the planet’s atmosphere, a single craft joined them as an escort.

  “Stick to the plan, you two,” said Boudicca. “We’ll be on the ground soon. If this is going to work, we need to sell it.”

  Lucky’s Encampment, Planet Sierra 2282

  The cleared area Lucky used for his encampment was centered in a marshy area. The closer Boudicca piloted them in, the more details Ivan could see below.

  “They’ve built some primitive fortifications,” he stated. “Looks like a bunch of sharpened tree trunks stabbed into the ground to create a wall, and there is a guard tower in each of the four corners. They’ve placed some automated guns in the towers.”

  “Noted,” Boudicca replied. “It changes nothing. Automation usually indicates a lack of manpower. We proceed as planned.”

  The shuttle shook as Boudicca brought it down. Ivan reached into his pocket and pulled his brother’s die out. He held it for a moment, turning it over in his fingers. Instead of rolling it, he stuck it gently to the wall next to where he was sitting. He made sure the six dots were facing him. Tapping the top of the metal cube with a fingertip, he took in a big breath and narrowed his eyes.

  Boudicca and Ivan took turns checking the advanced body armor they both wore while they waited for their escort. Crovax had been given concealable lightweight armor. It had to be mutilated and stitched together to fit around his tubular weasel frame.

  Banging on the shuttle’s exit cut their nervous preparations short. Boudicca repeated the mantra one last time.

  “Stick to the plan.”

  When she finished speaking, she walked to the hatch and opened the door. Stepping out with a hand on her pistol grip, she leaned back in through the opening and shouted.

  “Mr. Petrov, it’s secure!”

  Ivan liked this part of the plan. Being treated like a high-roller was a dream come true. That didn’t do much to
ease the nervous sickness he felt in his stomach.

  Don’t fuck this up, Ivan. Stick to the plan, he reminded himself.

  With those positive affirmations out of the way, Ivan stuck out his chest and strode down the ramp, stopping just shy of the waiting guards. Crovax followed on his heels.

  “Crovax, my man, this is the shithole you promised would bring me fortune?” said Ivan. “Seriously? It looks like it’s only going to bring me a case of trench-foot. Now, where’s this boss of yours?”

  The brown-furred weasel sighed, then glided past him to address the guards.

  “We’re here to see Lucky. I’ve got a big fish looking to swim.”

  After grabbing the weasel by the face and pushing him away, the head guard, a four-armed Lumar, scanned the three for weapons. Ivan and Boudicca were both armed, but it seemed the guards just wanted to know who had what. They appeared confident in their ability to squash any problems.

  “Let’s go,” the burly, seven-foot tall Lumar said.

  Two of the security team moved to the rear, and the giant guard led the way. The landing zone was roughly a mile from the camp. Despite the weightlessness he had endured on the trip, Ivan didn’t lose his breath during the walk. He figured the gravity on the planet had more to do with it than his physical conditioning he had been dedicating time to.

  Arriving at the wooden palisade, their party was passed off to a new set of guards. Walking through the 20-foot tall gateway into the makeshift fortress, Ivan couldn’t help but chuckle. Aside from one gigantic tent, some storage containers, and a smattering of fancy smaller tents, there wasn’t much inside the walls. He also found it amusing that the wood everywhere was fake. It looked to be some sort of synthetic material.

  The guards stopped at the entrance to the sprawling tent and motioned for the three to go inside. Ivan approached slowly, then ran his hand over the speckled wooden posts the tent was fastened to.