The ship dropped into the atmosphere, her bow white-hot from re-entry. The Star Splitter soared for a small, out-of-the-way spaceport on the north pole of the desert planet that only the locals knew about. There, he would meet with his old friend and there, he would get some more help—not in the form of manpower, but in weapons.
“This is Star Splitter requesting permission to land.”
“Reduce altitude to one thousand feet and then stay on your course until permission is given,” a curt voice said.
“Roger that.” Khai dropped the ship to one thousand feet, where powerful scanners buried in the ground scanned the ship for weapons—of which she had none—and finally allowed him in.
“Star Splitter, state your business in Dune Spaceport.”
“I’m just here to meet with an old friend. Perhaps you know her, Joon’Kind Joom.
Suddenly a voice came on that made Khai immediately smile. “Khai’Xander Khail! Is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re clear to land in… docking bay ninety-four. And I’ll have some pie ready for you when you land.”
“Sounds great, Joon. See you in a few.”
Khai piloted the ship expertly into the tight opening of the docking bay and landed it on the designated pad. He secured his pistol into his thigh holster. After all, it was still a tough neighborhood. He stepped out from the ship and used the codepad to lock her up tight and activate the anti-theft system. Immediately, he was swarmed by urchins begging for coin. It didn’t take long to realize that these urchins weren’t just begging for coin, they were insisting. Khai felt the cold steel of a gun muzzle press hard against his back.
“You don’t want to do that,” Khai growled.
“Oh, I think I do. Now give me the cash.”
There were four of them, one on either side, one in front and one behind. The one behind seemed to be the only one armed.
The thief on his right spoke up. “Holy shit, Max! This guy’s packin’ some serious heat!”
“Max?” Khai called out. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Shut up! You don’t know me!”
“Apparently, you don’t know me either.”
With that, he threw his head back and hit Max right on the nose. He instantly crumbled to the sand. The others reacted wildly, pulling knives and clubs and attacking immediately. The three remaining thugs all lunged recklessly at Khai at once. Khai honed his finely tuned skills and leapt forward in a high somersault over the would-be attackers. They all collided with each other and hit the ground in a tangled mess of arms and legs.
The only female in the group, being more flexible, was able to detangle herself from the others and brandished her knife again.
“Look, little girl. You are seriously testing my never-hit-a-woman clause. If you want to get messed up, keep pushing.”
She charged him, thrusting the knife forward. Khai caught the girl’s wrist and used her own momentum to flip her on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. She gasped as her diaphragm went into a stunned spasm. With the girl effectively out of the fray, he could focus on dumb and dumber.
Dumb swung a club horizontally at Khai’s head. Khai ducked under and came up with a devastating uppercut that sent him flying back, spread-eagled, spitting teeth and blood. Dumber attacked with a knife much like the gasping girl’s. The blade barely glanced Khai’s arm and Dumber whooped a victory. That victory was short lived. With blurring speed, Khai swept the guy off his feet. He lost the knife mid-fall and Khai caught it, bringing it down through Dumber’s thigh and into the dirt. He cried out in pain.
“Oh, quit your crying!” Khai spat. “It’s only flesh wound. I made sure not to hit any arteries.” The guy said nothing, just writhed in pain grasping at the knife. “Don’t pull it out, stupid. You’ll bleed to death.”
“Khai,” Joon’s voice came from behind him. “You causing trouble already?”
“No, ma’am. I was just teaching the kids how to win a fight when the odds are stacked against you. Though this one here may need a medic.”
“I’ll send for one. You guys picked the wrong guy to rob. This is the legendary Khai‘Xander Khail. He could have taken on like six more of you at once. You didn’t stand a chance.”
They left the bloodied bunch behind at the docking bay and convened in a local cantina.
“How long has it been, Khai?”
“Fifteen years,” said Khai, then downed a shot of something that burned all the way to his stomach. He set the shot glass down on the bar. “I’ll have another… of whatever that was.”
“So what brings you here after fifteen years?” Joon asked.
“Weapons, not to put too fine a point on it.”
“Ah,” Joon said in mock disappointment. “And here I was thinking that you were coming for a social call.”
“Well, I did come for some pie, too.”
“I guess that’s about as social as you get,” Joon mused, then turned serious. “What kind of weapons are you looking for?”
“Anything in particular?”
“Big ones?” Khai joked.
“Well, that narrows it down a bit.”
“And pie,” Khai added.
“All right, all right,” Joon said, putting up her hands in surrender. “Let’s go back to my place. The pie I made should be ready.”
A short ride later, they arrived at Joon’s little hovel. It was only her living in the house. Her husband, a former black market weapons dealer, was killed five years earlier when a rival dealer put a contract out on him. Joon left Seryys several years after Khai was taken into the custody by the government and after her oldest kid flew the coop. She fell in love with a dashing and mysterious man and was swept off her feet.
They went on adventure after adventure, smuggling weapons to the frontier colonies outside the Seryys System, running from the law and hitmen and making money hand over fist. Since her husband’s death, she was doing odd jobs here and there, but kept her husband’s cache of weapons… just in case. Khai had bought weapons from him before when he was marooned on Seryys IV the day his carrier crashed. He was on his way home from a long campaign against the Vyysarri and a saboteur caused the crash. The saboteur was a high-ranking member of the crew and claimed that he had learned the “truth” about the war and the Vyysarri. Khai didn’t care about the particulars, only that he was a traitor and needed to die. It puzzled him how something could send this well-respected officer and half the crew into a frenzy of conspiracy.
He and just about half the crew had allied against Khai and the rest of the crew. More importantly, they held the downed ship and all the weapons. That was when Joon’s husband came into the picture. The fight lasted two days. When Khai won the battle, the ringleader went on and on about knowing the “truth” and all he wanted was to show them. Khai put a bullet into the back of his head before he could say any more and turn some of the currently-loyal crew members against him.
Khai and Joon sat at her table, a bowl of something that smelled incredibly spicy sat in front of them.
“Dig in,” Joon said. Khai took an exploratory bite and nodded in approval. It was delicious. He had a cup of ale with his dinner. His watch chimed; he quickly pushed a button on it and the alarm shut off. “What was that?”
“My alarm,” Khai said curtly, pulling a pill bottle out of his pocket, unscrewing the lid and dropping a pill into his hand. He popped the pill in his mouth and downed it with a whole cup of ale.
Joon eyed the bottle and snatched it before Khai could put it back. As she read, Khai poured himself another cup of ale. He sat down and started chugging the ale.
“Do not take with alcohol,” she read, before Khai could finish his fourth cup of ale. He offered her a sheepish shrug. “You suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome? And you’re asking me for weapons? You must be crazy.”
“Yup,” Khai agreed. “I also have a warrant for my arrest.”
“Ah. Who’d you piss off?”
“Tran’Ri Trall?” asked Joon in a surprised, but almost impressed tone. “That takes talent.”
“A talent I have, apparently. But I think he’s up to something, and I swear to the Founders that it’s sinister.”
“Why do you say that?” Joon asked, just before taking a long, enjoyable gulp of cold ale.
“Have you been watching the news?”
“Yeah, Puar dying, these crazy riots, the shield generator having a very convenient temporary shutdown and the most recent news of the medical examiner working on Puar’s case dying in Trall’s office.”
“I hadn’t heard about that last one, but it further proves my theory. He’s up to no good. I can feel it.”
“You’re not…”
“Yes, I am. That’s why I need the best weapons your husband had. I’m about to take on the whole planet.”
“Well, in that case. Follow me.”
“Ah!” Khai stopped her. “After pie.”
They both chuckled.
The trip to the prison had been completely unhelpful. San swore up and down he had no idea where the money came from and that he hadn’t taken a single credit from D-PAG. He clocked out one day and the next morning, the police were busting down the door of his Upper Seryys condo. Dah used the prison’s computer to try tracking the large deposit, but without the backing of the police department, the banks were somewhat unwilling to give him the information he needed. The only promising information San provided was that Trall had come to visit him the day before inquiring about the Ti’tan’lium deposit beneath the city. He was looking for the amount in tonnage.
Suspicion sunk into Dah’s stomach like a brick of crete. Trall was dirty, he knew it. But he needed proof, a smoking gun. He had one other stop to make before going home for the day. He was going to talk to Rashad’s assistant. His backup plan, of course, was to do a full forensic analysis on Trall’s office. On his way to the Seryys City Morgue, he called Byyner and got even more bad news. When presented with an official search warrant, Trall trumped that with a bullshit immunity clause that kept forensic investigators out of his office. With his backup plan officially screwing the pooch, he had to put all his eggs in the current investigation basket. He didn’t like that at all, but what choice did he have?
A moment later, he landed on a landing pad designated for police on the main SCBI Building. The Seryys City Bureau of Investigation had one main office and several satellite branches all over the city, planet and system. More than a million workers strong, from administrative, to lab techs, to special agents, they were in charge of every investigation in the whole system. They did, however, leave smaller, less important investigations to local law enforcement agencies.
He exited his car and made his way to the entrance. A burly security guard stepped out in front of him. “You can’t park there! It’s reserved for-” Dah flashed his badge, “police.”
He stepped aside and let Dah past. Dah caught a reflection of himself in the mirror-like surface on the windows in front of him. He was wearing dark shades, a long black duster, combat boots and a shoulder holster where his service piece was snuggly secured. I look like a hitman, he thought to himself with a slight chuckle.
The double doors slid open at his approach and he entered the building. There was a desk with a pleasant-looking woman sitting, filing her nails.
“May I help you?” she asked, eyeing him—and not hiding it in the slightest. The way she asked gave him the distinct impression that she was looking for more than just helping him find his way around the building.
“Uh, yeah.” He put on a charming smile and showed his badge again. “I’m Captain Dah of the SCPD. I’m looking for Doctor Rashad’s office.”
The flirtatious smile was swept from her face as if he had slapped it off. “It’s off limits, by order of the Honorifical Office.”
“Who placed the order?”
“Minster Trall. No one is allowed in or out of his office, his lab or his residence.”
“Did he have any assistants?”
“He had one,” she said, looking almost nervous. “Bria’Nah Briar. But she disappeared before his death.”
“Hmm.” He scratched his whiskered face. “Okay. Thank you for your time. Can you direct me to the restroom?”
“Down the hall and to the right.”
“Thank you.”
Dah moved on. Once he rounded the corner, he slunk off to find Rashad’s office. There had to be a sign somewhere that said where his office was. As if his prayers were answered, a sign hung from the ceiling saying that Rashad’s office was one floor up in room 703.
Upon picking the electronic lock with a small device that overloaded the door’s servos, he started snooping around. There was paperwork scattered about. It looked as though the place had already been ransacked. Damn! I‘m too late! Dah thought ruefully. He fruitlessly sifted through piles of crumpled papers, overturned furniture and wrecked equipment. He was about to leave when an electronic chime nearly scared him out of his skin. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, silently berating himself for being so jumpy. He dug through the garbage all over the floor and found the jingling device, a com unit. It registered a missed text message. He thumbed through the com unit’s data base and found the message. It had been sent right around the same time of Rashad’s death and it was sent from Bria’Nah Briar.
It read: Come to the house, Lover.
Lover? That’s odd. Dah knew that Rashad was married—and happily so… at least he thought.
He pocketed the com unit and snuck out.
He walked by the front desk and the flirty secretary called out to him.
“What?” he asked, his skin flushing a bit.
“Did you find the restroom?” she repeated.
“Uh, oh, yeah! Thanks. Have a nice day.”
“You too,” she said with a pleasant smile.
Dah lowered his hovercar onto the private landing pad attached to the Rashads’ house in Upper Seryys. He entered the house, ducking under the orange caution tape denoting a crime scene. The house was in far better shape than his office. The house wasn’t huge by any means, but definitely was bigger than Dah had expected. He stealthily moved through the house. The kitchen, living room and bedrooms were empty. He only had one room left.
He moved down the hallway to what he thought was Rashad’s den. He slowly forced the door open after overriding the servos. It was open about six inches when gunshots rang out, hitting the door inches from his hands. He ducked back and pulled his sidearm from his shoulder holster. He risked a look into the den. There was someone hiding behind the huge wooden desk. He was surprised that his attacker hadn’t taken that opportunity to put a bullet in his head.
He acted on a hunch. “Bria’Nah Briar?” he shouted the question.
“Who are you?” a frightened, female voice shakily called out.
“Please. Put your weapon down. My name is Dack’Tandy Dah. I’m with the SCPD.”
“Prove it!” she shouted.
Dah took it on faith that she wanted to believe him. The first thing he threw was his gun, then his badge. He heard footsteps skitter up to both. He held his breath, thumbing his backup pistol within his boot.
“You see?” Dah said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m investigating Doctor Rashad’s death.”
“You don’t look like a cop. You look like a hitman.”
“I’m doing this off the record because Minister Trall has deemed it an open and shut case. But I don’t believe that it’s as black and white as he’s making it out to be.”
The woman’s voice was right at the crack in the door when she spoke, soliciting a slight jump from Dah. “I have proof.”
“What kind of proof?”
“Throw in your other gun, and I’ll tell you.”
Dah’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you know?”
“You’re a cop,” she said plainly. “No respectable cop would
throw in his only gun to someone who was just shooting at him.” He heaved a long sigh and rolled his eyes, pulling his backup from its boot holster and tossed it in as well. “Go ahead and open the door.”
Dah got to his feet and pried the door open. A very beautiful woman, with tight curves, wavy brown hair with red highlights, smooth, pale skin, vibrant green eyes and in her mid-thirties stood in the office, a small gun in her trembling hand.
“You mind, maybe, putting that down, first.” She nodded and put the gun down on the desk. “Thanks,” he chuckled. “That’s better. So what proof do you have?”
“This,” she said, holding up a memory stick.
“What am I going to find on that memstick?”
“Look for yourself.” She plugged the memory stick into Rashad’s computer. Dah walked around to look at the screen. “I thought that maybe they were his financial records. But when I heard of his death…” her voice began to break and tears rolled down her cheek. She took a deep breath and wiped the tears away. “When I heard of his death, I checked it and…”
Dah picked up where she left off. “Found out why he was killed.” It was all right there in front of him in black and white. The bodies found in the hovercar were that of Ralm’Es’ Ra and an unknown male, definitely not Prime Minister Pual’Kin Puar.
“This is it!” Dah gasped. “This is the evidence I was looking for.”
“What’s Minister Trall up to?”
“I don’t know yet, but I think it has something to do with large Ti’tan’lium deposit beneath the city.” She nodded thoughtfully. “So, how did you avoid Rashad’s fate?”
“He sent me a letter. The memstick was with it. The letter only told me to go into hiding. I just figured that his wife found out about… us.”
The Seryys Chronicles: Death Wish Page 9
