Dead Dwarves Don't Dance

by Derek J. Canyon

  Rounding a bend, Cori sighted a Global Aeromotive Defender helicopter resting silently at the bottom of one of the huge flint quarries. She drove down the gravel ramp and coasted the Ford toward the chopper. Noose sat on a large rock. She pulled up and jumped out.

  “Noose!” She smiled and ran over to hug him. “I heard a report on the radio–” She stopped, noticing the dwarf’s condition. His battered face, his ripped and bloody pants, his bandaged legs. “What happened?”

  “I got a lead on Smith’s boss. Hey, you got some of my cigars in the car with you? I lost mine.”

  Cori nodded, walking back to the car. She returned with the dwarf’s dirty and ripped duster, pulled out a pack of cigars and handed them to him. “So, did you kill Munk and the other two?”

  “Yeah, I nailed Munk,” Noose confirmed, lighting a cigar and puffing on it.

  “What about Earless and Grue?”

  “I found them. Problem is, so did some more hitters. The guys who originally flew that chopper wanted to kill them as much as I did.”

  “So, did they beat you to it?” Cori asked, getting annoyed at the dwarf for evading her questions.

  “Nope.”

  “Noose! Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “Yeah, I am. I’m just afraid you might not like it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Guess I’ll just show it to you,” the dwarf said, waving at the chopper. The large side door slid open, revealing Grue and Earless sitting inside. Earless stepped out onto the ground.

  Cori’s mouth dropped. She stared at Noose, then at the two others, then back at Noose.

  “What? I don’t understand? You want me to watch you kill them?”

  Noose shook his head. “No. They’re my lead to the big man.”

  “You…mean you’re…not going to kill them?” Anger spread across Cori’s face as she realized what Noose was suggesting.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “The hell you aren’t! They murdered my sister. They deserve to die.”

  “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it,” Noose said. “Sometimes, Cori, you’ve got to make hard decisions.”

  “Pamela never made any decision to die.”

  “Take it easy, Cori. Without their help, we’ll never find out who’s behind this all.”

  “They pulled the triggers!”

  “Cori, they were just the weapon. Smith’s boss pulled the triggers. He started the hit, financed it, contracted it.”

  “They killed Pamela!”

  “Cori,” Noose said softly, “remember what you said at the hotel? How you wanted me to quit the biz? Well, this is the first step. I don’t have to kill these two. They weren’t ultimately responsible.”

  “So you’re just going to let these murderers walk off and leave?”

  “No, they’re going to help us.”

  “Why would they want to help us?”

  “Smith’s boss has been trying to kill them ever since they pulled the hit. They’re expendable loose ends. Whoever the big man is, he’s got the resources to find them. They want to end it, just like we do.”

  “Except they want to live. I don’t want them to live.”

  “Cori, we all want lots of things. You want me to quit the biz, you want me to stop killing. Hell–” Noose paused, taking the cigar from his mouth and looking down at the ground. “–I even want to stop killing. I want Pamela back even more. So do you. We can’t have that. She’s gone. But if we want justice, we’ll have to work with Grue and Earless. Otherwise, we’ll never find the one responsible for her death.”

  “How can you work with… murderers?”

  “I’m a murderer, Cori. We’re in the same biz, and I’m no better than they are. We kill people. People give us money and we go whack whoever they say. We don’t stop to investigate the why of it, we just do it. For no reason other than money. And now, I’ve got a reason not to kill these two, a very good reason, and I’m not going to.”

  Eyes glinting, Cori said, “How do you know they won’t turn on you or fade at the first chance?”

  “They could have already. Grue’s promised to see this thing through.”

  “Promised? What the hell good is the promise of that killer?”

  “Listen, Cori. We have to trust him. We don’t have a choice. And right now, he’s the only one there is to trust. Smith’s boss is after me now, too. He might even know about you.”

  “The enemy of my enemy, Noose? What happens when the mutual enemy is dead?”

  “Then we go our own ways. I’ve promised not to kill them.”

  “You’ll just let them go? Not make them answer for Pamela?”

  “I made Munk answer for Pamela. He’s dead. He was their friend. They hate me as much as I hate them. But we’ve got to get past that. They have information we can use, and we have contacts that they don’t.”

  Cori spun around and walked to the car. She placed her hands on the hood and dropped her head. She kicked the tire and stood still for several minutes.

  “Okay, Noose. I’ll do what you say and work with these scum. It’s our only chance, like you say. But you also said you’re no better than they are, and you’re right. You’ll work with any chunk of slime you have to, and then say goodbye when they’ve done their part. You say this is the first step in quitting the biz, but you’re just a damn killer, and I don’t have any reason to believe you. After this is done you’ll just start killing again. But after this is all over, and they go their own way, you can go your own way, too. You can keep your promise and get out of my life.” She jumped into the car and slammed the door, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  52

  “Hello, and welcome to this special addition of Atlanta Prime Talk. I’m Brian Belliard, sitting in for Antoine Attovar, who’s on a well-earned lunar vacation.

  “It’s been over a week since the terrorist attack on Stiltzkin’s, the neohuman dance club in the Dekalb district. Ninety-seven dwarves, pleasers, other genotypes, and normal humans died in that flaming carnage and horror. One hundred and seventeen others were injured. Some are still in critical condition. As usual, we here at channel 519 extend our sympathies to the dead and injured and their families.

  “Pervasive rioting by enraged neohumans troubled the metroplex for days after the attack. Governor Jones-Utu-Rudeholmer-Xin asked for and received Global Peacekeeper intervention to quell the violence. Regional Police applied overwhelming resources and scoured the metroplex, shutting down all ground, train, sky, and orbital departures. They rousted known racist groups. Global Marshals provided additional support, investigating possible inter-regional connections.

  “But in the end, vengeful members of a neohuman street gang found the terrorists before the police and killed them in a junkyard shootout. The terrorists have been identified as long-time members of the hate group, Kill Neohumans Now, a disavowed splinter group of the mainstream No Neohumans Now organization.

  “Outrage, debate, and legislative proposals have exploded around the world as everyone from the Secretary General to the waitress at the corner diner have denounced such terrible violence. The United Globe General Assembly has promised to create an investigatory sub-committee.

  “However, Regional Atlanta Metroplex Governor Jones-Utu-Rudeholmer-Xin already has some proposals to decrease the level of crime and violence in the plex, and he is here with us now to discuss. Welcome, Governor.”

  “Thank you, Brian,” the governor replied. He sat across a table from Brian, dressed in a dark blue suit and red tie. Distinguished highlights of grey cut through short black hair and his piercing eyes held the camera with confidence and authority. He clasped his dark hands before him, assuming a stately and solemn pose.

  “Now, you believe that by permanently stationing Peacekeeper troops in and around the Blackzone you will be able to prevent further violent uprisings?”

  “Naturally, Brian, with an increased law enforcement presence the criminal element will be significantly curta
iled. I propose creating no less than fifteen permanent security buildings, citadels if you will, garrisoned by Peacekeepers with extensive training in riot suppression and emergency policing. In this manner, we can begin to stem this rash of crime and violence that threatens the very core of our great metroplex.”

  “Some critics of this plan have suggested that the price of maintaining such additional security forces would be prohibitive. The Blackzone does not have the police tax revenues to pay the Global fees for a permanent Peacekeeper occupation. They say you’d have to raise taxes across all districts to pay for it.”

  “I have received assurances from the Secretary General that he will approve my request to raise taxes. The good citizens of RAM don’t want a festering pit of murder and violence in the middle of their city. For goodness sake, it wasn’t so long ago that someone detonated a mini-nuke in the Blackzone. We have to prevent such military weaponry from getting to the hate mongers, terrorists, gangs, and hooligans. We have to eliminate the lawless element to prevent nuclear as well as conventional attacks.”

  “I see. But are you certain that the General Assembly will approve a permanent Peacekeeper presence?”

  “If they don’t want to protect the citizens of this metroplex, they’ll have to answer to the voters. We must take preventative measures now.”

  “But two years ago your own Regional council requested increased spending for law enforcement expenditures. You vetoed that request despite strong support from citizens and district managers.”

  “The district managers loaded that bill with pork. I’ll soon be meeting with them on my dirigible to draft a new bill. I can assure you, none of us will disembark until we’ve hammered out something we can all agree on and enact.”

  “RAM Operations Administrator Elise Chauveau has been a vocal critic of your actions on this matter. Will she be attending this meeting?”

  “If she wants to attend, she may. However, she is not a district manager and so has no vote in the legislation. I’ll let the district managers determine how valuable her advice is.”

  “Thank you, Governor Jones-Utu-Rudeholmer-Xin.” Brian turned to the camera. “And that about wraps up our time with the governor. We’ll be right back with Atlanta’s favorite cinematic son, movie director McZeezle, to discuss his new holographic masterpiece, Freddy Kreuger and the Nazi Werewolves of Mars.”

  53

  Grue shifted in the chaise lounge and rubbed his shoulder. “Off,” he said, and vidwall dimmed to beige.

  “Hey, what’d you shut it off for?” Earless asked, squirming on the floor near the window. “It’s almost eight. Chaingunsmoke’s on.” She jumped up and walked to the vidwall. “On. Channel 23.”

  Grue sighed and struggled out of the large chaise. Nanobots had healed most of his injuries, but a couple of them were still sore. A bit stiff, he walked across the large apartment to the refrigerator. He opened it and frowned.

  “I thought Cori was going to get some more beer.”

  “That breeder bitch ain’t gonna do nothing nice for us, Grue,” Earless called over her shoulder, intent on the opening credits of the cyber-western action show.

  “Well, why don’t you go out and get some? All you’ve been doing is dancing, singing, and watching vid.”

  “And you’ve been sleeping. I don’t need any beer, I got all the joy I need.” She held up a handful of turbo patches.

  “You should stop using those.” Grue lumbered to the window and looked out from the fifth-floor apartment at the dark grey skies. Rain pounded the Atlanta Metroplex. Across the street he could see a small Stuffer Shack, an electronics store, and a dance club. He frowned. He always frowned when he saw dance clubs now.

  “And you should stop chugging beer.”

  “I will when this is all over,” Grue muttered, leaning his forehead against the coolness of the window.

  The apartment door opened, and Grue spun around, his new Ultima Heavy Bore tracking smoothly on Cori and Noose as they entered the apartment. Cori glanced at the goon and his gun, said nothing, and walked into one of the bedrooms.

  “Don’t need that hardware on us, Grue,” Noose said. He carried two large satchels.

  Grue hefted the weapon and smiled. “Happiness is a big gun. Did you get the ammo?”

  Noose pulled several boxes of ammunition from the satchels, putting them on the coffee table.

  “What about the heavy weapons?” Grue walked to the table.

  “Couldn’t snag any.”

  “What?” Grue threw up his arms, then winced as pain lanced his shoulder and neck. “How are we supposed to be ready for the stomp-down with the big man?”

  “Reggies still got their thumb down on fixers.” Noose pulled off his long coat, revealing the new Stormer in the holster under his left arm, and his trusty Wardog tucked in his belt.

  “You saw how hard it was to replace our side arms. The governor’s got the weapons dealers under a microscope. He’s really on an anti-crime spree. It was tough enough getting back in to the plex.”

  “But we got millions to spend on this stuff,” Earless said.

  “And that’s why I got the pistols and this ammo. Cost me three times what it should have.”

  “How are we going to be ready for another hit on us, then?” Earless demanded.

  “They’re not going to find us.”

  “Yes, they are,” Earless said. “I bet the landlord already turned us in.”

  “Not likely,” Grue disagreed. “He’s only seen Cori, and we’re paying him ten k to be quiet.”

  “She probably said something wrong when she rented the place.”

  Noose scowled. “Cori didn’t say anything wrong.”

  “Oh, yeah? How would you know?”

  “Cori’s a good player. She can handle herself with the best.”

  “She’s an amateur. Ain’t never worked outside the corporate jobs. The slut doesn’t know a trigger from a skillet.”

  “Do you want to die that much, Earless?” Noose growled.

  “Oh, piss off, you little gimli. I can say and do anything I please. Me and Grue paid for this dump with our money. And you can’t kill me until we find the big man. In fact, you promised you wouldn’t do nothing to us.”

  “You keep talking that way about Cori and I’ll change my mind.”

  Earless crouched and shook her hands and fingers. “Oooh! My little elfy feet are shaking in my little elfy boots.”

  “Stop it,” Grue ordered. “You’re not helping any.”

  “I’m not here to help a gimli and his whore.” She returned to watching the vid.

  Grue sighed. “So, Noose, what did you find out?”

  “The Ranger chopper was stolen. Still no leads on that end.”

  “Pros wouldn’t leave any leads.”

  “We just gotta hope they make a mistake.” Noose pulled a pile of beer boxes from the satchels. “Thirsty?”

  A wide grin spread across Grue’s wrinkled face. “You’re a prince.”

  They sat down and sorted through the ammo while they drank.

  “My contact is still tracing the blood samples from the two pilots. Hopefully, he’ll have some info soon.”

  “That’ll give me some time to work out these kinks. That chopdoc friend of yours did a good job patching me up, but she sure didn’t help with the soreness. Even my pain inhibitors aren’t taking up all of it.”

  Cori emerged from the bedroom, carrying her keyboard, the cable jacked in to the port in her head. She walked by Earless without a word and stopped next to Noose and Grue.

  “Got something?” Noose asked.

  “Check this out.” On the vidwall, the western showdown disappeared and was replaced by a news story over a year old. A large picture predominated, of Governor Jones-Utu-Rudeholmer-Xin visiting a school. The headline read: “Governor honors Ritzman Scholarship winners.”

  “What the hell?” Earless screamed. “Where’s my cowboys? What did you do, bitch?”

  “Shut up, Earles
s!” Grue bellowed. “This is biz.”

  Earless frowned and sat down with a snort. “What the hell does a school have to do with us?”

  “Open your eyes,” Cori said without emotion, pointing at a figure in the picture, standing behind the governor.

  “Some guy in shades, but he’s too small to make out.”

  The image zoomed in on the figure.

  “Smith!” Grue exclaimed.

  “What’s he doing at a school?” Earless asked.

  “He’s obviously security for the governor,” Noose said. He leaned back and whistled. “Question is, was he still working for him when he hired Grue?”

  “Damn!” Grue swore. “What if it’s the governor’s behind it all?”

  “Who says Smith’s working for him?” Earless said. “Could be he was working security for some corporate suit instead of the gov, or maybe he’s a temp hired to protect the little kiddies.”

  Cori shook her head. “No corp reps were there that day. The school has uniformed personnel.”

  “How do you know that, breeder?”

  “Brains, you witless slut,” Cori responded, staring coolly at the genny.

  “You better keep your bitch in line, dwarf, or I’ll cut her skanky tongue out.”

  Before Noose could reply, Cori struck out. Her clenched right fist hit Earless’ face, sending the patch-head stumbling backward to land seated on the floor with blood pouring from her nose. Both Noose and Grue leapt up.

  Earless catapulted to her feet and jumped on Cori, the two of them clattering backward onto the table and over to the floor. Swearing, biting, and hitting, they struggled for only a few seconds before Grue and Noose pulled them apart.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Noose yelled, holding onto Cori. “What the hell are you doing?”