Aaron’s hand shot out and grabbed Locke by the collar of his shirt. He then heaved the man off the floor and shoved him toward the door.
Chapter 13
Aaron and Susan remained silent as they pushed their way through the Old Spacer’s Cantina’s entrance. They didn’t speak until they were several hundred yards away.
“You okay with me doing this?” Aaron asked. He glanced at Susan as he spoke. She had always taken a negative view toward their law-breaking, and that was only smuggling and the like. Now he was taking a contract to kill a man.
“Yes,” Susan answered simply.
Surprised, Aaron stopped and turned to face her. “You are?”
Susan nodded. “When Bailey and Locke were discussing Woodson I caught glimpses of their thoughts. Bailey truly wasn’t lying when he said the man’s a monster.” She shrugged. “I don’t like killing people, but the universe will be a better place when Woodson’s gone.”
Relieved, Aaron started again toward his ship. Honestly, he was taking the job more out of a feeling of owing it to Locke than for the money. Make no mistake, one hundred thousand credits would be useful, but for the moment they were flush with cash. They wouldn’t be worried about starving anytime soon.
Most people saw things as good or evil, white or black. Aaron saw things as various shares of gray. He was a smuggler and gunrunner. Both of those activities were viewed negatively, but he was okay with those things. But he would never condone or assist in sentient slavery. He didn’t believe in killing innocents—he just didn’t believe Woodson was innocent. Susan had confirmed that for him, but he already knew of Woodson’s guilt—the computer in his head had provided the information.
“I’m not okay with you sending us away, though,” Susan said quietly.
Aaron didn’t stop walking but glanced her way. “I can handle this, and if I can’t, well, there’s no reason to get us all killed.”
“But you could die just because we aren’t there to help you. Your attempt at nobility could be the reason you fail.”
Aaron didn’t respond to her complaint. There was another reason he wanted them all off-world. Susan seemed okay with the idea of being hired to kill a man, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last once it came time to actually kill him. Jessica would be against it from the get-go, and she wouldn’t be quiet about it either. Adam was a toss-up; he could go either way. Of the former Commonwealth soldiers, only Russell wouldn’t have a problem with the assassination. Aaron wanted them far away from this mission. He wanted to protect them physically but also emotionally.
They arrived back at the Long Shot less than fifteen minutes later, and the entire crew waited just inside the entrance.
Aaron was pleased the crew had followed orders. He hadn’t wanted them dispersing into the city until he knew exactly what Locke had in mind. It turned out to have been a good idea.
“Well,” Russell said as Aaron and Susan stepped through the hatch. He had been leaning against the corridor wall but straightened up at their entrance.
Aaron paused, looking around at all the faces staring at him, and then he smiled. “Nothing to worry about. We have a quick cargo to retrieve.”
The group nodded easily but didn’t say anything. They knew enough to let him finish.
“Unfortunately, I need to remain on Redamor,” Aaron said. “Susan will be in charge and I expect each and every one of you to treat her like you would me.” Aaron paused and smiled half-heartedly. “Actually, I expect you to treat her better than you would me.”
“Why are you staying here?” Russell asked, looking a bit wary.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Aaron repeated, “but I’m needed here for the next week.” He shrugged. “On the bright side, I won’t be getting my shares on the cargo; that’s more money for you.” He began moving past them. “Forgive me, but I really need to get packed.”
Even though some of the crew looked a little unsure, Susan said, “Go ahead. We have to get ready for our cargo.”
Aaron paused just inside his cabin door and looked around the room. It was strange, but it seemed like he was leaving home or something. He felt a reluctance to leave his ship even only for a week.
Pushing the melancholy away, Aaron moved over and sat down at the small table. He dropped the crystal that Locke had given him into the small diamond-shaped hole in the wall. The small computer whirred to life and projected the information in holographic form above the table.
Aaron reached out and began to flip through the information. He didn’t read it from beginning to end, but rather he skimmed the data. He reached the end and found himself feeling both impressed and disgusted.
He was impressed that whoever had gathered the data had been thorough. There were descriptions of the wedding location, pictures, and even a rather astute guess at the defenses that would be deployed around the wedding. That last bit sent a shiver of worry down Aaron’s back. He sincerely hoped that Bailey had been careful in gathering the information. The last thing he wanted was Woodson’s men to be on the alert.
Despite all the info that Bailey had provided, it was still quite sketchy. He had been provided a location, a time, and someone’s best guess about the precautions.
Aaron considered leaving the crystal behind on the ship. On the one hand, he didn’t want to get caught with it, but after consideration he decided to take the crystal with him. He hadn’t really been able to go through it as well as he would have wished. He satisfied his paranoid side by encrypting the crystal; at least that way it would take his retinal pattern to unlock the damn thing.
He removed the crystal from the computer and stepped away from the table. He paused to look around his room; it was spotless. That was a side affect of having been in the military for so long. Old habits were hard to break. Not that he ever wanted to be messy; it was just so engrained in him that everything had to be in its proper place.
He grabbed a duffel bag from the closet. He then folded up three shirts and placed them in the bag. He figured he could wear each shirt for two days and he could wear the same pair of pants for the entire week; after all, he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. The thought of losing most of his meager clothes horrified him.
He glanced down and decided his boots would also be good for his entire absence from the ship. He did grab a clean pair of underwear for each day—he insisted upon that.
Aaron already wore the Horace handgun in a holster on his hip and he retrieved the two smaller Olivers from the hidden safe. One he put into a shoulder holster and covered it up with a jacket. The second he put in an ankle holster and strapped it to his right leg.
He also retrieved a set of fake IDs from the safe and was on the verge of closing it up again when he noticed the case that held the old rifle. He tilted his head to the side while he considered it. The gun was ancient, but it didn’t show up on modern weapon scans. Perhaps he could put it to use. He hesitated only a moment and then retrieved the small, metallic case.
Aaron emerged from his room less than half an hour later, wearing a jacket to hide his shoulder holster, and carrying a duffel bag over one shoulder. He paused in the hallway and listened for any sounds but there wasn’t any. The ship was eerily quiet.
He stepped over to the bulkhead and pushed a button on the computer panel. “Computer, where is everyone?”
“The crew is in the main cargo bay,” the computer’s cold, metallic voice answered.
He turned his steps that way and soon stepped out into the empty expanse of the bay. The only problem was that it wasn’t empty anymore. Besides the crew, three men stood in the hangar. Two of them Aaron had never seen before. They were young, physically fit, and looked kind of dumb, as if they were hired muscle. He recognized the third man—Richard, Bailey’s assistant.
Aaron nearly missed a step when he recognized the old man. The first thought was that Richard was here to cancel the job, but then he remembered Bailey telling Richard to find them a cargo. Still, it was a bit sur
prising for the old man to come here on his own.
Richard nodded his head as Aaron stepped in close.
“Captain,” Susan said, “we have our cargo.”
“Oh,” Aaron said genuinely surprised. “What is it?”
Susan cleared her throat and leaned in close. “PG.”
Aaron’s eyes widened in surprise but he said nothing. PG was short for Pleasure Gel, a drug that people rubbed on their gums. It was highly addictive and completely illegal.
“Taking it out?” Aaron asked.
Susan shook her head. “No, we pick it up on Fort Wade. We have to get it back here within eight days.”
“How much?” Aaron asked.
“Two tons,” Richard said. It was the first time he had spoken and he sounded nothing like what Aaron had imagined. Aaron had thought the man would have a tired, old voice, but his voice was deep and booming.
Aaron blinked, momentarily confused. He hadn’t been asking how much of PG they were transporting, but how much they were getting paid. His confusion disappeared as Richard’s words slowly made sense. “Two tons?” he repeated quietly.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Susan said. “We can hide that much in the concealed holds. Plus, he’s given us a legit cargo to go along with the other.”
“What’s the second cargo?”
“Twenty tons of a fish that’s native to Fort Wade,” Susan answered. “It’s a common cargo from there to here. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Aaron grimaced at Susan’s words. He just couldn’t help it. He was getting a bad feeling about this whole mess.
Chapter 14
Aaron left the Long Shot via the cargo ramp and stepped out into the crowded streets of the spaceport. Richard was still providing the necessary information to Susan, but Aaron didn’t see any reason to wait around for him to finish. He felt confident that Susan could handle the job better than he could.
He meandered slowly toward the spaceport exit. There were moving sidewalks that sped along, but they were crowded and he wasn’t in a hurry. He kept an eye on the crowds as they sped past him. Partly it was due to his paranoia, as he always checked to see if anyone was paying him too much attention, but it was also due to his curiosity. He’d seen a lot of strange aliens in his day, but there were always more to see. Occasionally he even spotted one that the computer in his head could not identify; that always tended to give him a thrill.
The sun was starting to go down as Aaron reached the spaceport’s main exit. The main thoroughfare was overflowing with spacers as they made a circuitous loop of the bars and brothels. The establishments were lit up with neon lights, and loud music and raucous laughter spilled out into the streets. It was definitely going to be a wild party. It would probably be fun for most of the crowd, but there was also a fair number who would be robbed and beaten—a few deaths were even possible.
Aaron had no intention of getting into a barroom fight and forced his way through the packed crowd and out into the streets of Marin Aldabia, the capital city of Redamor. Redamor was a heavily populated and heavy industrialized world. The population was estimated in the twelve billion range, and the planet produced a truly amazing amount of trade goods. It was one of the crown jewels of the TF Federation.
Aaron’s stomach tightened up at the sight of the line of uniformed police crowding the street. Panic threatened to run through him, but he got it under control. True, some of the police studied him as exited the spaceport, but they were studying every spacer that left the port. He forced himself to maintain the same slow pace that he had been using since he left the Long Shot; he didn’t want to give them any reason to take an interest in him.
Aaron looked about and spotted a long line of robotic taxis off to the left of the exit. He turned that way and got into the small queue. It wasn’t long until he slipped into the back seat of a small taxi meant for two or less people. He kept his duffel on the seat beside him.
The taxi had no driver but was directed by an onboard computer. It was infinitely safer than having a sentient being in control.
“What’s your destination?” a computerized voice asked. Most computers had a gender neutral voice, but this one definitely sounded female. It was probably programmed that way due to all the spacers that caught rides here.
Aaron leaned forward. “I want a nearby hotel. Clean but not too pricey.”
There was a pause and then the computerized voice said, “The Foster has a vacancy—only eighty-four credits per night.”
“Perfect,” Aaron said.
“Name?”
“Aaron Folstom,” he replied, giving an alias. He seriously doubted whether anyone could track down his real name or not. The Commonwealth, or at least what remained of it, was a long ways away.
There was another brief pause and then the computerized voice said, “Excellent. The room is being held for you. It’s yours as long as you check in within the hour. After that, the room will be available to anyone.”
“Fine,” Aaron said. “Take me there.”
The taxi took off at a slow pace and gradually picked up speed. The area immediately around the port’s exit was primarily warehouses and then offices. These buildings were all closed at this time of the night, but the streets and exteriors of the buildings were well lit.
This section of the city was several miles wide and many more miles long. It was the businesses and industry that needed to be close to the port. It was a common arrangement on many worlds; keeping the factories and warehouses as close as possible to the port facilitated the loading and unloading of goods.
It took several minutes for the taxi to pass thorough this industrial section and the area gradually changed. First, the warehouses and factories begin to disappear, replaced by more and more office complexes. Then, they crossed a wide, fast-flowing river and entered the residential part of Marin Aldabia.
Immediately on the far side of the river were five or six long streets. These streets were lined with bars and nightclubs that rather resembled the bars of the spaceport. There weren’t any brothels, probably due to local laws, but Aaron suspected those services would still be available.
The taxi turned down the street second from the left, but the traveling here was much slower. Many drunk spacers wandered through the streets and the taxi kept having to stop.
The sun had completely disappeared and the night was lit up by the bright, neon colors of the nightclubs.
Aaron leaned forward to get a better view of the street. He sincerely hoped his hotel wasn’t in the middle of this mess. He was sure the noise and lights would keep him up all night.
It took the taxi about ten minutes to go maybe five miles. The streets were still lined with bars, but these were not the gaudy, neon-covered establishments. Instead, the bars had a quiet, more respectable feel to them. He was quite sure these bars could still get rowdy, but he suspected that was the exception, not the norm.
When they had crossed the river the streets had been lined with bars, while the bars were still in evidence, more and more hotels were interspersed.
The taxi turned off the street and pulled under the covered driveway of a twenty-story stone and glass building.
“We’ve arrived at your destination,” the computerized voice said.
Aaron quickly paid the fare, and then slipped out the right side of the taxi. He held his duffel in his right hand and pulled his jacket closer with his left. The night had gotten a good deal colder, and he momentarily wondered if he should have brought a heavier coat. Probably didn’t matter though. With the kind of money he was getting paid to kill Woodson, he could buy all the coats he wanted.
Ignoring the misting rain, Aaron stepped out from under the covered walkway and looked up at the hotel. It had been nice once but that had been a long time ago. The building had an old, rundown look to it.
He sighed and was turning to enter the main entrance, when something pulled him up short. The hairs on his neck stood up straight and he turned back toward the street. Th
ere were two bars and a café on the far side of the street. All three establishments had packed tables along the sidewalk.
Aaron scanned the crowd looking for whatever he had sensed. He just caught sight of two couples entering the bar on the right. He got the briefest of glimpses, but he still felt his stomach tighten up. He was fairly sure it was Eric and Thomas, and they were in the company of two wild-looking women.
Aaron turned and walked back under the covered driveway, resisting the impulse to rush—a running man draws the eye even more quickly. Once he was back out of sight, Aaron paused, considering what to do. He peeked back around the corner, looking at the front of the bar on the right, but Eric and Thomas were no longer in sight. Chances were they hadn’t seen him. Even if they had, they were probably more interested in the two women than him.
He stood there for a moment, torn as to what he should do. His paranoid side was screaming to find a different hotel. After a moment he decided against that particular course of action. He really didn’t think the two wanted to cause him problems, but if they tried then he’d be ready for whatever came.
Aaron cast one more glance in the general direction of the bar then headed though the main entrance of the hotel. The inside looked even more rundown than the outside. The walls were an ugly, faded gray and the floor tiles were worn smooth down the middle.
A short hallway opened into a small, rectangular lobby. There were a couple of old, torn chairs placed haphazardly and a long-dead plant on a small stand. A check-in counter waited for him against the far wall. No one was in sight.
Aaron crossed the lobby and stopped just short of the counter. He glanced over, just to see if the receptionist was bent over out of sight, but there wasn’t a person around. He looked left and then right but he seemed completely alone. He glanced back down at the counter and noticed the small button with a sign beside it, Push button for Service. He obediently reached out and pushed the button and a loud buzzing started somewhere off in the distance.
Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two Page 11
