by Chris Ward
She thought about the snakes in the grass.
Her blaster lay at her feet, ripped from her hands, out of reach. The rest of her weapons hung around her belt, just a few inches away, but a few too many for her trapped hands.
There was only the single palm grenade she had set during her meeting with the dealer to test out its feel.
One shot, and it had to work. But there was nothing to shoot at; everything was wrapped around her, and if she shot at herself, she would die.
She thought about snakes.
On some frontier jungle worlds, they kept fires burning at the camp perimeters to keep out the wildlife.
She could only twist a few inches, and she used her instincts and knowledge of the layout of the Matilda’s interior to set her aim.
The hatch hydraulic system, filled with an off-world liquid called berm that stayed static and didn’t expand or contract like water did.
Highly flammable.
She twisted her palm the only inch the crushing net of life would allow.
Aimed.
Fired.
The tiny grenade broke through the synthetic layer of skin on her palm. She would have screamed if her mouth hadn’t been filled with snakes.
An explosion, followed by intense heat, followed by a terrified wailing from all over her body, followed by a total relaxation of what held her.
She hit the ground hard as the creature or creatures or whatever the hell it was slipped off her body and fled. Her hand stung, so she grabbed the fallen blaster with the other, pushed herself sideways and stood.
Fire engulfed the hatch, filling the air with the stench of burning metal and flesh.
Harlan5 had shielded Caladan by the angle at which he stood, but the fire was just taking hold of the living organisms which had slicked every available surface. She shoulder-barged the droid, knocking both of them to the ground, then pushed them so they rolled down the hatchway into the grass outside. Lia followed, brushing fire out of her hair.
Burning snakes lay everywhere, but on the other side of the clearing, near the foot of the ridge, something was running through the grass.
It was low to the ground, human-shaped but formed of thousands of other creatures all bonded together. Lia dropped to one knee. She quickly extended her new proton rifle, aimed, and fired. The shot hit the creature square in the back, and it broke apart. Hundreds of snakes fled through the grass as Lia got back to her feet to give chase.
She shot or stamped all that she could, but there were too many. Breathing hard, she chased until exhaustion took her, watching with hands on her thighs as the last disappeared into a stand of low trees.
Returning to the Matilda, she fetched a fire extinguisher from an external compartment and doused the fire. The Matilda, being made mostly of lightened steel, now had another war wound, but would survive with a few repairs.
Harlan5 and Caladan were another matter. She cut their bonds, then sat them both up, the Farsi pilot propped up against the droid.
Caladan was delirious, and Harlan5’s circuits had been fried. From the ship, Lia retrieved a temporary power pack and attached it to Harlan5’s auxiliary battery. His eyes flickered with life, and his head turned to face her.
‘Captain!’
‘What happened?’
‘My programming tells me we were ambushed, and my stored memory says those were Hiberian assassins from the moon Jan-Jan-Last. They’re some of the deadliest in the known galaxy. You were very lucky.’
Lia rubbed her palm. She had affixed the grenade wrong and it had taken a circle of natural skin with it when it broke through the synthetic layer. It would be a while before she could hold a blaster without a grimace. ‘I don’t feel it.’
‘It could be worse. My programming tells me I got screwed, and that Caladan got screwed even more than I did.’
‘What did they want?’
Harlan5 turned to face her. ‘Want? I’d guess to kill you. Oh, and that chip.’
‘The chip? I destroyed it. You had the … copy. Harlan … did they take it?’
The droid looked down. ‘My programming tells me I should feel ashamed to have been ambushed and robbed. It is violation for a droid to have one’s body cavity entered by something unauthorised.’
‘So they took it?’
‘I’m afraid so, yes.’
Lia scowled. ‘I need to get it back.’
She stood up, but before she had taken more than a handful of steps, a roaring noise through the trees announced the departure of a shuttle, its thrusters flaring as it rose up into the sky.
‘That’s them; that’s the Hiberians. Harlan, we have to go after it.’
Harlan5 shook his head. ‘Not for a while, I’m afraid, Captain. You blew up the hatch hydraulics. The Matilda can’t go anywhere until we can shut the door.’
12
LIA
Caladan wasn’t about to regain his senses any time soon. As soon as the fire had abated and the seared steel cooled, Lia dragged him into the ship and put him back in the recuperation pod, where, if nothing else, he would have sweet dreams for a while. Then, with Harlan5’s circuits still fried, she retrieved the quad bike from its bay and drove back into Seen to look for a mechanic.
It was easier to plan than to do without contacts and a need to find someone discreet. Her homing instinct begged her to return to her mother’s place and seek advice, but the shame of what had happened kept her away. Trina didn’t need to know the chip’s duplicate was gone, or how close Lia had come to death at the slimy hands of the Hiberians. Sometimes shame had to be shouldered by the one who had earned it.
After a while hunting through the worst part of town, she found someone who would fix up a droid without asking questions. The cost was astronomical, but the silence it bought was worth every credit. The mechanic, a Tolgier who reminded her a little too much of Leon-Ar, took her and the quad bike back out to the Matilda in a hover transport fully equipped with repairing systems.
After inspecting Harlan5, the Tolgier informed Lia that the droid would take two Earth-days to fix.
Lia did what she did best while she waited, going back into Seen and getting as drunk as possible in the worst places she could find. Rather than dragging some unwitting fellow customer off to bed, though, she bought a lot of drinks for strangers and let it slip she was a trader beneath the law looking for passage to the outer planets. Soon, she found herself involved in conversations with other smugglers and lowlifes.
Among lots of useless information, she learned that a freighter was heading for Abalon 3 in a couple of days. On its journey it would dock at several of the planet’s moons for unloading and restocking. Several of the smugglers in her new circle had invested interests in the freighter, for reasons hidden away in its cargo holds that would be secreted away at the other end.
As the evening gave way to Seen’s long night—fourteen Earth-hours—Lia pinpointed which of the traders she needed to get on side and then closed in. For a small trade, he was able to offer her a berth as an independent traveller, with fake company documents pertaining to her status as a shipment adviser. For once the trade didn’t include her body, but rather some contacts she had in the Phevius System for starship machine parts which had conveniently lost their serial numbers.
Shortly before dawn, she returned to the Matilda and oversaw Harlan5’s repairs. Caladan remained in a deep, euphoric sleep, but from the gradually growing smile on his inert face, she could tell he would awaken soon. She wished the mechanic would hurry up, because once Caladan woke, leaving on her own would become much harder.
‘How are you feeling?’
The droid’s eyes twinkled. ‘My programming tells me much better. I went offline for a while there, didn’t I?’
‘Do you remember what happened?’
‘I discovered a tracking beacon attached to the ship. I believe its origin comes from the Grun Freighter where you stole the chip.’
‘When Caladan slipped out to pick up some cargo,’
Lia said with the hint of a smile. ‘I guess someone wanted to know where we were going.’
‘It is my guess that the Tolgier with whom you did business wanted to keep tabs on your movements prior to the delivery of his shipment.’
Lia nodded. ‘I guess he played it right, considering I screwed him, and, um, screwed him.’
‘I don’t follow. You performed the same action twice?’
‘Never mind. Listen, I need to go back into Seen on business for a couple of days. I’m leaving Caladan in charge of the ship, but if he isn’t pulling his weight, feel free to throw him back into his recharging tank and assume control.’
‘Are you giving me authority to assume control of the Matilda? I need official authorisation in order to carry out that duty.’
Lia held up a hand. ‘Sure, whatever. Just don’t let anything happen to my ship.’
Harlan5 snapped a salute. ‘As you command, Captain.’
‘Okay, good. Well, I’d best get going.’
Leaving Harlan5 plugged in to the ship’s electrical systems to charge his batteries, Lia went to the bridge and left a handwritten note for Caladan on his copilot’s chair:
Cal,
The ship is busted. Fix it then come rescue me. I’m heading to Abalon 3 to destroy the duplicate chip stolen from the Matilda by those snake things and ideally to kill the man who ordered it. You’ll find me. Just look for the biggest shit storm and you’ll likely find me at the centre. Your new style looks good, by the way; very fetching. If you pull this off, I’ll consider lowering myself to sleep with you, and perhaps even pretend to enjoy it.
Don’t be late,
L.
P.S. Don’t lose or break the droid, and make sure to flush the electrical systems for any leftover snakes. There were some pretty small ones and if they got in your sleep helmet during stasis-ultraspace it could be really unpleasant.
Then, wiping away what she hoped was a tear of exhaustion and not regret, she took the quad bike and headed back into Seen. There, she sold the bike for extra credits, then headed for the spaceport.
Much to her surprise, the forged documents worked perfectly, and Lia found herself strapped into a planetary shuttle for the trip up to the freighter waiting in orbit. Through the shuttle’s circular windows, the freighter came up on their right. Lia groaned. It was a Grun XL V16, a newer model to the one they had watched get destroyed after stealing the chip that had got her into this mess. Not massive for an inter-system type craft, it was still a couple of miles of featureless corridors and cargo bays, with a small living section at its rear end. For a simple planetary hop there would be no exit into stasis-ultraspace, but the journey would be far more unpleasant as the ship ramped up the speed required to get it out to Abalon 3 within an Earth-week. Each passenger and crew member had a stasis-berth, but for many, the entertainments level would be their residence for the next few days. Lia wanted a decent sleep, but it was hard to resist the opportunity to gain a few contacts, particularly as everyone on board was all heading the same way.
After boarding, and finding her way along with the other passengers and replacement crew to the living quarters, where her documents allowed her an empty grey room with a stasis-ultraspace pod as its only item of furniture, she watched through the monitor screens as Cable slipped away into the distance. It was hard not to feel a sense of regret, that her mistakes had led her here, hunting a dangerous enemy, her ragtag but faithful crew left behind.
As the engines let out a sudden low hum that made the freighter rattle, and the world outside the monitor screens became a blur of passing lights, she hoped only that she could handle herself as well as she thought she could, because no matter what she had faced so far, the danger was only just beginning.
13
LEON-AR
The Hiberian knelt in the mud, its composite head bowed.
‘We failed,’ a serpentine voice said. ‘Lianetta Jansen defeated one of us, and nearly defeated the other. A skilled opponent, she understood our nature, and exploited our weakness.’
Leon-Ar, despite his frustration, was still afraid of the creature knelt in front of him. ‘Did she sustain no injury?’
‘Some. Her crew and ship are disabled. And in some compensation, we have recovered the item you required.’
A thin snake whipped out of the creature’s body, something tiny held in its jaws. It dropped the chip into Leon-Ar’s outstretched hand and withdrew. The Tolgier frowned.
‘This isn’t the same item. It’s newer.’
The Hiberian nodded. ‘This is an exact replica. Our infiltration of the ship’s computers confirmed it. You will find no difference between this and your original. We can only surmise that the original was in Lianetta Jansen’s possession, or had previously been destroyed.’
‘Well, thank you for your efforts.’
The Hiberian didn’t move. Snake eyes watched Leon-Ar, then its body began to shudder, working up into a blurry vibration before breaking down into hundreds of tiny snakes, which slithered away into the river, the undergrowth, and the rocks, until there was nothing left of the Hiberian assassin but a few slime trails rapidly drying out in the sun.
‘We thank you for your challenge,’ came the strange echoey voice from the cliff. ‘We look forward to working with you again. Due to our unforeseen failure to complete the mission, you have, as perhaps your human master-species might call it, one in the bank. Please visit our nest again.’
The cliff fell silent. Leon-Ar’s frustration was diffused somewhat by the recovering of the chip, and the knowledge that Lia Jansen was stuck on Cable. After he had collected his overdue reward from Raylan Climlee, he planned to vanish from the system, and his path would never cross Lia’s again.
He waded out into the river to await the boat from Jak.
He wasn’t sad to see the back of Jan-Jan-Last. He gave it the finger through the porthole of his shuttle as he returned to orbit, rolling the chip over in his other hand, dreaming of what he could buy with the fee Raylan owed him. A new starship, perhaps, or maybe even a large and spacious abode on one of the more favorable planets, somewhere with a decent pleasure quarter. The options were endless.
The journey through stasis-ultraspace lasted a couple of Earth-days. By the time the skies cleared and the tiny brown ball of Abalon 3 appeared on his monitors, Leon-Ar was salivating at the coming meeting. Raylan Climlee was known as the richest warlord in the Fire Quarter, so there might even be a bonus due for all Leon-Ar’s extra effort, despite the threats Raylan had made.
He docked his ship at Raylan’s main orbiting refinement centre. All around him, massive starships stood at dock, waiting for the shipments of condensed trioxyglobin to be distributed across the known galaxy. There were far more in dock than he had expected; perhaps there was a delay. Not wanting to concern himself with Raylan’s legitimate business issues, Leon-Ar closed down the monitors and went to find the warlord.
Raylan, much to Leon-Ar’s surprise, offered to meet with him almost immediately. A subordinate came to collect him, leading him back through long corridors to Raylan’s main audience chamber.
The diminutive warlord sat on an ugly, lumpy throne at the room’s far end. At first the shining surfaces confused Leon-Ar, until he realised the whole thing was made of the shining enamel of millions of human teeth. Not wanting to dwell too long on something so macabre, he stopped a respectable distance away and dropped to one knee, his head bowed.
‘Lord, I have returned. I have recovered the chip that was lost. I ask your forgiveness, and I ask that you please still recompense me in part for my efforts. I have failed you, but I have also done my best to correct my mistake. Forgive me, Lord.’
‘Look at me.’
Leon-Ar looked up. A photon blaster that looked too huge in Raylan’s tiny hand pointed at his face.
‘I retrieved this throne from storage just for you,’ Raylan said. ‘You get to be a part of it now. It contains the teeth of everyone who has ever failed me. Failure is failu
re, you stinking Tolgier baboon. You should have run when you had the chance and never come back. I do, however, appreciate the chip’s recovery. Do you have any idea of how hard it was to find someone capable of developing that? A good job you’ll have no need to be more careful in the future.’
Leon-Ar opened his mouth to speak, but there was no time. The last thing he knew was a humming sound, and a bright green light.
14
RAYLAN
The Tolgier’s blasted body was already starting to stink, bowels that were far larger than those of its human master-species opening up on death. Raylan tossed his photon blaster to the floor, then called for some servants to remove Leon-Ar’s body and find an incinerator or dung heap somewhere.
First, he had them search the body. The chip was in the palm of the Tolgier’s hand, and Raylan gratefully dropped it into a pocket of his robe. He really did appreciate the Tolgier making good on his mistake, but a mistake was a mistake, and if you got too soft, your enemies would use you as a trampoline.
At least, that was what another warlord had told him, shortly before Raylan shot him in the back.
‘Prepare my shuttle,’ he shouted to another orderly. ‘I leave for Abalon 3’s surface immediately.’
The chip was a welcome bump in his pocket, one he looked forward to setting to profit right away. As he headed through the corridors to his shuttle’s launch site, he opened up a local web connection on the computer fitted into his left wrist and made sure all his documentation was in place. In a hundred locations he had requests to purchase contaminated land in position, some already filed under false dates that would be updated immediately upon the virus taking effect. Trill System’s law required the first serious offer to be given first refusal on any land agreement, and Raylan was a step ahead of any other mining operation in the system.
