“Hands where I can see 'em, Dorvak.”
“Is Dovriak,” the man muttered, clearly annoyed.
“Well, whatever. I just want that ring, an' you're gonna git it for me, aren'tcha?” Fox grinned, feeling the pudgy face pool around her mouth. Ugh, she thought. There cannot possibly be enough showers in the galaxy to make me feel clean after this.
Dovriak shook his head, and then nodded. “Fine,” he said, caving. “But if man comes looking for ring, I tell him was no choice for me, okay?” Fox rolled her eyes and lowered her gun.
“I don't care what you tell him as long as you give me the ring,” she said through gritted teeth.
Dovriak reached over and lifted a keycard from behind a tacky painting of cats playing clarinet, and led Fox to the safe in the wall of the back room. He opened it slowly, which irritated Fox, but Dovriak's hands were shaking, so she let it slide. She honestly felt somewhat bad for him. He was just on the wrong side of the situation, though. Nothing she could do about it without blowing her cover and the job.
The safe unlocked with a click, and Dovriak opened the door, revealing a paltry pile of gold, some credit bars and a small black box. Dovriak lifted it carefully from the safe, and turned around to hand it to Fox. There was a crashing sound from the front window, and both of them turned reflexively toward the noise.
Dovriak's limited cool was blown, and he bolted out the back door with a yelp. Fox sighed and searched the floor for the small black box, but cursed. The shopkeeper must have taken it with him! Frustrated, she checked her gun and ran after him, but was stopped in her tracks as a powerful pulse passed by in front of her through the open door to the shop front. It shredded the wall with a loud explosion of wood and plaster. Fox's ears were ringing, and she had to squint to see through the dusty debris.
She risked a glance around the corner toward the front of the shop, and saw a gaunt man with midnight skin level his pulse-rifle at her. Fox ducked back just in time to avoid losing her head, but caught shrapnel in her shoulder as the doorframe was ripped apart. She cursed, and winced as she touched the wound. Already sticky with blood. It would need attention soon, but for now, she had to push through the pain.
She took a few short breaths and made a break for it, letting out bursts of cover fire into the front room, and darted out the rear exit. Fox scrambled outside with a pounding sense of urgency. Times like this almost made her wish she was religious. Almost.
Then, as if some mystery deity had inexplicably decided to grant her an ironic miracle, she made it into the alleyway without being shot in the back. She heard coughing from behind her. Lucky break, she thought with a grin, but then stumbled over a piece of wood she hadn't noticed just a moment ago, and cursed. I have to pay more attention, Fox chided herself.
She scanned the alley and saw Dovriak running for all he was worth toward the street at the end of the alley, black box clenched tightly in his hand. He shrieked when he saw her. Fox slammed the heavy metal door shut behind her, hearing it click shut. She got out of the way just in time to avoid the door as another shot blasted it off its hinges across the alley.
She ran after Dovriak and leveled her gun at his back. She wheezed, upset that this body wasn't well conditioned for physical activity. She should've picked someone younger and faster, but authority figures were always so hard to pass up in situations like these. Still...
Fox took a shot but missed, and her blast ripped apart the wooden crate Dovriak ran past. Kark! The pawnbroker looked over his shoulder in panic, and picked up his pace. He started zigzagging, presumably to create a more difficult target. Fox laughed and shook her head, training her sights on him. He wouldn't get very far wasting his energy like that. It was almost sad to watch.
She surprised herself with a sudden show of mercy when she flipped the setting on her gun down to stun. “This soft heart of mine's gonna get me in trouble, someday,” she muttered as she pulled the trigger.
The pulse-blast caught Dovriak square in the back, and he cried out before he fell to the grimy flexiphalt like a wet bag of sand. Fox hoofed it over and rolled down into a fluffy squat to pick up the box, panting. As she held it up to inspect it under the noonday sun, she heard a voice growl from behind her, “Drop it! That's mine!”
“What, this ol' thing?” Fox asked as she turned around. It was the large black desperado, his pulse-rifle pointed right at her face.
“Too bad you had to get involved,” the man sneered from behind the snubbed barrel of his powerful weapon. “Now I'll have to deal with cleanup. Security, you understand.”
“Okay, fine,” she said, and tossed the box into the air between them. Distracted, the man lowered his weapon to catch the merchandise, and Fox took that moment to fire off a shot. She would've ended it right there, too, if he hadn't been so fast. He dodged to the side and caught the blast in his left shoulder, spinning to the ground with a grunt of pain.
“Yoink!” Fox laughed as she snatched up the box and took off toward the busy street at the end of the alley.
Then she had a stroke of inspiration. She was certain this bruiser would keep following her until she took care of it. This sector was busy, but it didn't have much respect for corrupt local authorities. As a result, she could count on being killed by this mysterioso in broad daylight if he got the opportunity.
Resting briefly at the corner of the alley, she waited just until the large man had time to look at her. Him. Officer Huckleberry. She waved and shouted a taunt at her pursuer, taking a shot at him before he could pick up his rifle. He rolled to the side and grabbed it, but she'd planned on that and was around the corner before he could bring his weapon to bear. She darted out onto the sidewalk.
This was going to be close, but she could do it. She got her flushing-serum ready mid-sprint. Oh, this was gonna hurt bad, but if it worked out it'd be worth the pain. “Pain beats dead every time,” she muttered.
Fox injected the flushing serum into her arm and felt it working immediately, her racing pulse accelerating the chemicals through her body. She felt nauseous, whether from the serum or running in this body, she wasn't certain, but she kept pushing herself. No second chances on this sort of thing. Fox sprinted around the corner of the block and across the street toward the real officer Huckleberry who sat asleep in his chair. She took out the metachip ring and threw the empty box at the sheriff, hitting him square in the chest. He woke up in a furor, perplexed and angry, but before he could see who'd done it, she was already inside the pub.
There were shots fired outside, and Fox knew her plan had worked- bait and switch. She breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't take time to relax. She needed to find somewhere private, and fast. In her haste past the bar, Fox ran into a bulky bear of a man, spilling half his brew onto his oily shirt.
“Excuse me,” she said urgently, already feeling the first signs of transition.
The man looked at Fox with murder in his eyes and slammed his mug down on the bar.
“You're gonna regret that!” he spat and pulled back his arm to take a swing at her, but two other men intercepted him.
“Sorry, officer,” a gristly older man apologized, helping maneuver his large friend back towards the bar. “Bluko's been drinkin' fer a spell. He don't mean no disrespect to the law.”
“Carry on,” Fox grunted with a nod, and quickly made her way toward the men's room, which was thankfully unoccupied.
Her hands trembled as she locked the door behind her, and her temperature kicked up a notch as her immune system went into overdrive. A sharp pain in her chest radiated outward like a knife through every part of her body, and she sank to the floor in a writhing ball of agony, wedged into the space between the toilet and the wall on the cold, wet tile.
Fox felt her teeth grinding as they shifted shape and position. Bones rearranged themselves under her skin, and her flesh pushed and squeezed itself back into place. Her tongue swelled up, gagging her before retracting enough to fit right again. She leaned to her right and vomited into
the toilet. If there was anything that could possibly cause horribly debilitating pain to radiate within her, it was happening.
Then, all of a sudden, the grueling ordeal was over, and Fox was trembling on the cold floor. These unassisted flushes left her completely drained, but her focus returned to what she held in her clenched fist. Yes! The ring!
Finally, in a place where no one was shooting at her, Fox held up her golden prize to inspect it under the flicking fluorescent light of the privy. “This better be what I came here for,” she muttered, and slid the ring onto her thumb. It instantly began to upload its precious information to her earbud. As the files rushed in, Fox was surprised by what she saw.
It looked like she'd have to get herself to Altonas, a virtually uninhabited mountain-world. Her optical screen displayed the rotating image of her target, Raya Silverbane. Raya led a small dragon cult, and was beautiful enough to have been a real celebrity if that had been what interested her.
Raya had what Fox needed...evidence that could incriminate one or more high-ranking officials in the Brigadier Empire. As someone who lived at the border of uncharted territory, Raya had been trading intel with some unsavory characters, and had apparently managed to sink her claws into something juicy. It was Fox's job to retrieve and destroy the intel, whatever it was. The credit being offered was princely, and strong evidence that whoever placed this job had some serious political pull. Fox used her earbud to place a call over her secure private channel.
“Yes?” Turk's smooth baritone slid onto the line. Fox must have interrupted him doing something, and it made her smile.
“Hey, just thought you should know we're still on for that next engagement.”
“Really? That's great, baby. So you found the ring, then?”
“Oh yeah,” she answered. “You could say that.”
“Everything go smooth?” he asked.
“Smooth?” she laughed. “Other than being shot up and having to flush out some Mayberry on the fly? Yeah, it went silky.”
Turk laughed. “So a normal day for you, then?”
She snorted. “You know normal ain't normal for me, Turk.”
“Ain't that the truth,” he chuckled. “Well, at least we're at the head of the pack on this one. So, where to next?”
Fox grinned with anticipation. “Border country.”
11
On the Road Again
Stella and her friends boarded the shuttle at dawn, and watched their little bit of heaven recede until it was a dot of green lost in a sea of white. Then the stern pilot had snapped them into warp, and it was all left behind. Stella was going to miss their time with old John. He'd felt like a grandfather to her, but even so, she couldn't help but be grateful that she might see her father again soon.
Her thoughts wandered to the Garden Citadel. She wondered who John thought they'd know there. Stella hoped it would be her father, but didn't say that aloud, so as not to jinx it.
She looked at her friends and smiled. Rok was silhouetted against the spectral storm as he sat up front on the huge dashboard, talking with the captain, asking endless questions about everything, at least as far as Stella could determine. He was sneezing and coughing, which worried her, since he'd always been in perfect health before.
Then in the seat across from her, Mtumba was getting some rest, conked out since they'd come aboard. He hadn't slept much last night, and was making up for it now. He muttered something, shifting position, but Stella still couldn't understand the language. She shook her head and decided to go up front for a while. She heard Rok and the captain talking animatedly as she approached.
“Well, yes...” the trim older captain said as he looked at Rok. “Good point, but that's why we send out a reverse signal back into the warp. It cancels the active signal...there, you see that display?” Rok nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve as the man continued. “Otherwise you'd be right; this would be a one-way trip.” The man laughed, clearly impressed. “Where'd you go to school?”
When Rok saw Stella, he hopped off the dashboard to join her at the doorway. “Stella,” he whispered excitedly, “you're never gonna believe what Captain Rufus was telling me! This is all so cool!” He looked at her like an excited puppy. If puppies had bloodshot eyes and runny noses.
“Yeah.” She said grudgingly. “So, you wanna be a pilot when you grow up, then?”
“Oh yeah,” Rok smiled enthusiastically. “This stuff's amazing!” He couldn't seem to keep his attention on just one thing, though; his gaze wandered from one display to the next like other kids might look at a roomful of candy.
“Well, just make sure you remember the little people when you get all famous, okay?” she joked, jabbing him playfully on the shoulder. He looked at her in openmouthed confusion, but shrugged it off, electing instead to go back and immerse himself in the displays. Stella rolled her eyes, wishing he was more talkative, but Rok seemed mostly interested in how things worked. A budding engineer.
Stella heard Mtumba stir, and sat down, leaning forward and staring at him until he woke up. It took a few minutes, but eventually he cracked an eye open and saw her. He smacked his mouth, tasting something there that he didn't like. “Hi,” he said, waking up. “How long was I asleep?”
She shrugged. “I dunno, but you were muttering again.”
He scowled. “I don't mutter.”
“Well, in your sleep you do,” she retorted with a wry grin, and Mtumba shook his head, laughing. “It sounds like the language you sang the song in,” she prompted, and he nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Well, I only know two languages,” he said, smiling. “And if it wasn't the one I'm using right now, well then...” he let it hang in the air, unspoken. He looked around, grimacing. “Is there any food around here?”
Stella looked at him searchingly. “Why would I know that?”
Mtumba shrugged. “I just hoped you might.”
“Because I'm a girl?” she asked hotly.
He woke up real quick, apologizing profusely, and she let him feel guilty about the gaffe. Reasonable, she thought. Even better, in an effort to make it up to her, he went off to find the food himself, and ended up bringing some back for her. As well as a bottle of water. She accepted everything he offered graciously, and smiled to herself with satisfaction as she took a delicate bite of her nutrient bar. Sweet, like the taste of victory.
In an abbey set high in the mountains, a solid-looking man sat with eyes closed in meditation, breathing a deep and slow mantra as he listened to the rhythm of the world beneath him. Rama Gaddion knew there were many changes afoot in the universe, but was currently more interested in perfecting his spiritual attunement than diving into a storm of political intrigue. He was focusing on establishing a waking connection with the merkabic guardian whom he believed resided deep within this planet's core. Or perhaps it was more of an essence, and he needed to be open to that possibility as well. Yes...
There, he definitely felt something at the edge of his awareness, gently tugging at his attention. Perhaps, finally, he had managed to communicate with the great guardian he had sought for so many-
“Daddy,” a little voice interrupted his meditation.
Rama cracked open an eye with a puckered sideways smile, and closed his eyes again. He laughed, and it was a sound both rich and warm. It was his daughter, Nya. The merkabic deity would simply have to wait, it seemed. He let out a deep breath and nodded, then opened his deep brown eyes. His daughter stood directly in front of him, and upon seeing he was clearly awake, giggled and jumped on his lap, knocking the wind out of him. “Oof,” he heard come out of his mouth.
Nya looked up at him thoughtfully, already wise beyond her three years of age. “Daddy,” she asked, “what were you doing before?”
He laughed and brought her to his chest in a gentle hug, kissing her forehead. “Sweetie, daddy was meditating.”
She didn't object so much to the idea of meditation, it seemed, as to the fact that it meant he wasn't pay
ing attention to her while he did it. Rama knew this, and decided he'd done as much as he could today, anyway. He looked at his daughter, her curly brown hair and mocha complexion reminding him of her mother. She would be a heartbreaker someday...Suddenly he felt his protective instincts kick in. It amazed him how quickly those parental instincts could well up. He smiled.
“Mommy said you were talking to the ground again,” Nya said, clearly weighing the possibility. Rama raised an eyebrow.
“Well, what would you say?” he asked.
She smiled. “I say you talk to the ground,” she giggled.
Perhaps she was right, but...No, Rama was certain that there was something here. Something ancient and advanced. It called to him in his dreams, so he knew it was real, even if it was difficult to commune with while he was awake. Someday, though, perhaps it would respond to him and reveal its many long-forgotten mysteries of spiritual mastery...
Nya was looking at him expectantly, and he spoke. “Well, perhaps it's less that I can't speak to the world, and more that I can't hear what the world is telling me,” he suggested.
She laughed. “Daddy, you're funny!” Then she hugged him tight, laughed again and ran into the next room screaming as children do, eliciting an admonition from her mother to be careful while she was cooking.
Ah, Raya...how had Rama been so fortunate to find such an amazing woman? As the scent of dinner caught his nose, he felt himself thankful yet again as he was beckoned by a force stronger than anything he was feeling from deep in the earth. Hunger, he chuckled. So, he rose to his feet and stretched for a moment, then headed into the other room to join his wife and daughter at the table.
Perhaps Raya would be able to offer some insights about the sacred merkabic guardian over dinner. Rama would have to mention that the dreams had returned, and hoped she would understand what he had to do next, whatever it was. He was listening.
Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy) Page 8
