Forced Vengeance (Jake Mudd Adventures Book 2)

by Hal Archer

  "Don't worry, Squeakers. I have a plan."

  She went to her closet and opened it.

  "Time to see if you work," she said, looking at a large contraption sitting in the closet. It was the only thing she kept in there. She'd been working on it for a long time and didn't want anyone to see it. She never had guests—until Jake—but it was her biggest project to date and she had wanted to make sure nobody broke in and took it whenever she was gone.

  Squeakers stirred in her pocket and made a little noise.

  "She glanced down at her vest. "Yes, I know. I said it wasn't ready, but I don't think it needs those other parts. It should work fine the way it is."

  She pulled the apparatus out of the closet. "We're about to find out."

  It was a cylinder with a tall protrusion coming out of the top of it. Two leather belts were attached to the sides of the cylinder. Each had a corresponding buckle on the other side of the cylinder.

  She carried the unit over to her couch and placed it on one of the cushions. Squatting in front of the harness, she leaned back into it and took hold of the belts. Drawing them under her backpack and around her waist, she fixed them into the buckles.

  She reached back with both hands and pulled down two metal bars which unfolded from the top of the cylinder. They came over her shoulders and bent to provide a length of metal positioned a foot in front of her stomach on either side. She grabbed the ends of these bars and squeezed to start the engine inside the cylinder. It hummed at first. Then whirred to a higher pitched sound. It wasn't noisy, but she could hear it working, and felt the vibrations through her backpack squished against her.

  She stood with a little effort. The machine wasn't heavy, thanks to the high-end alloy she salvaged to make it, but the bulk of it needed to be balanced, at least until the blades were out.

  She walked over to one of the open windows. With the glass completely gone from the window, the hole was almost the size of her.

  She looked down at her drone. "Don't think I'd leave you, Birdy."

  She pulled the drone controller in front of her, leaving it attached to the side of her backpack by the cord which stretched just enough. Turning Birdy on with the controller, she then opened a small transparent plastic cover and put her finger on the red button beneath it.

  "Hope you can keep up, Birdy." She pressed the button and Birdy's propellers spun up, lifting her off the floor. She released the controller, letting it retract back to the side of her backpack.

  Boom! A loud thud against the door startled her. They're here, she thought. Her heart pounded.

  She looked out the window at the twenty-six story drop to the street.

  Another boom against the door and the frame cracked around the hinges and the lock.

  Tiffin grabbed the handles to her machine. She pressed into each handle with her thumbs and a piece above each of her grips flipped down with two buttons on each one.

  Another crash against her apartment door and it flew open. She glanced back and saw a gang of checkered hats in her doorway. Their shock sticks were drawn and arcing with charge.

  She sucked in a breath and jumped out the window.

  Birdy flew out after her, synced to the controller and set to follow it. The air rushed against her face and made it hard for her to see clearly, but she knew she had only seconds to live if her machine didn't work. She fell three floors before she pressed a button with each thumb.

  The metal piece sticking out of the top of the cylinder extended several feet in length, then rapidly spun and split into seven pieces which folded down to form the blades of massive propeller.

  The flying machine stopped Tiffin's descent and lifted her up past the window to her apartment. She twisted the grips on the bars to turn herself around as she passed it.

  Two of the checkered hat men stood at her window with their shock sticks. They looked angry.

  "Hi, boys," Tiffin said as she flew past them and rose above her building. She grinned as wide as her face could endure.

  Glancing behind her, she saw Birdy keeping up with her. "Good."

  She steered to the alleys, knowing if she flew over the main streets she'd have more checkered hats after her, trying to shoot her down. Once she was well hidden over the alleys behind the buildings she throttled her flyer faster. The wind rushed against her.

  It works, she thought. She felt prouder than she ever had about any of her previous inventions.

  "Woohoo!"

  She continued flying behind the buildings, following the paths of the alleys. After nearly a minute of enjoying the exhilarating feeling, she settled into a hover.

  "Now what?" she asked herself, filled with a burgeoning sense of confidence.

  She glanced back in the general direction of her apartment and realized she couldn't go back there now the checkered hats found the place.

  She thought about finding a new home. Then she thought about Jake and what he'd said to her about finding some people.

  She looked down at her vest pocket, Squeakers safely tucked in it.

  "We're going to get the license for him." She smiled at the thought. "He'll take us with him then."

  She nodded and basked in the thought.

  "We're finally going to leave Eon, Squeakers."

  CHAPTER 22

  J ake walked the streets of Eon, heading back to the secure docking port where Sarah waited. The throngs of aliens filling the streets didn't dissipate, but his interest in seeing the strangeness of the different races slipped out of his mind as he walked. All he could think about was what he was going to say to Sarah. He'd forgotten about the wound on his leg, but he was walking with a slight limp now to accommodate the injury.

  Nothing good came to mind. Deep down he knew the right thing to do was to stay in Eon longer, to keep working to get the unregistered license. He just didn't have it in him.

  The image of the children terrified in the raid kept flashing in his mind. He bumped into someone walking the other way past him, but he didn't bother to say anything or even glance at the person.

  He peered up at the glowing signs hung from the sides of the buildings—offers of vice and indulgence without judgement. They pretended to be enticing, but were deceiving, he thought. He stepped into and out of a shallow puddle, and ignored the splash of dark brown which hit the bottom of his pants. He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and kept walking.

  The city had gotten to him and pulled out of him elements he tried to abandon long ago. Going back to Sarah empty-handed seemed wrong somehow, but he didn't know what else to do.

  The path in front of him cleared enough to draw his attention. Everyone shuffled off to the other side of the street.

  "What the hell did I do?" he asked himself.

  He took several more steps, looking at the crowds moving away from him. The shopkeepers of the three shacks outside the towers up ahead folded down the metal sheets from the roofs of their stands, closing their shops.

  He glanced at the sky to make sure there wasn't some ship about to land on him. The sky was empty, except for the dirty artificial atmosphere. He thought he saw someone peering over the edge of one of the buildings, but turned his attention back to the street.

  He stopped and watched the pedestrians far ahead of him also move away from his path. After the last of them moved out of the way, he saw why this was happening.

  Something tells me this isn't a farewell parade.

  A hundred feet away, twenty checkered hats walked toward Jake. They had their charge sticks drawn. Jake saw the weapons' sparks.

  He glanced to the rear—a dozen more checkered hats. They were only twenty feet away.

  He stood and considered his options. Too many to fight, he thought. Run? He looked at his leg and scanned for exit routes. Too many people blocked one side of the street and the buildings to his left were stacked together. No alleys in this section of the street. They picked a good spot.

  "What do they want with me?" he said.

  The
city authorities moved closer, spreading out to form a ring around him. Jake slowly raised his hands above his head.

  With the ring of officers tightened around him, one of them approached him. The man hesitated before reaching for Jake's blaster.

  Jake stared at him. "Now why are you doing that?" he asked the man.

  The man grabbed Jake's weapon and quickly stepped back, filing in with his fellow officers.

  Jake watched as one of the men raised a comm device to his mouth and said something into it. A few seconds later, the man signaled to the other checkered hats. They all closed in on Jake.

  "You guys don't need those things," Jake said, nodding toward one of the men's shock stick.

  With Jake tightly surrounded, three of the men stepped forward, shock sticks raised.

  Jake moved his hands even higher above his head and gave them a little shake.

  "I'm unarmed," he said.

  One of the three closest officers smiled. "We can't take any chances, boys. Not with this one."

  The other two men grinned, then all three thrust their shock sticks into Jake's torso.

  The electricity rushed through his body causing his muscles to flex and his limbs to stiffen. He yelled as his back contorted involuntarily.

  He caught a glimpse of two officers walking toward him with a floating transport gurney.

  The three checkered hat men held the shock sticks against Jake for several seconds, then pulled them back.

  Jake collapsed.

  The side of his face struck the pavement hard. He moaned and a trickle of blood ran out of the side of his mouth from the bite on his tongue.

  CHAPTER 23

  T iffin swooped toward the flat top of one of the buildings, coming in from the alley side to avoid notice. She worked the flyer's controls so she landed several feet beyond the waist-high wall which ran the perimeter of the building's roof. The roof was empty except for three climate control boxes, each a few feet high and running at a quiet hum.

  She'd chosen the building because the roof was larger and flatter than the others nearby. She decided she needed an oversized landing pad, at least for her first attempt. Don't want to topple off the edge, she thought.

  Her feet hit the ground harder than she intended. Bits of debris blew about as she landed. She pressed the button to stop the propellers' rotation and took several quick steps to diffuse her momentum, but still stumbled. The propeller blades retracted into the single shaft just in time. She fell forward onto her right knee, skinning it on the fine grit coating the top of the building.

  "Ah." The pain wasn't severe, but the adrenaline she had from her initial flight had worn off. "Oh, that stings."

  She pushed against her thigh and stood up. She glanced at her vest pocket. "You OK, Squeakers?" She lifted the flap of her pocket and saw the mouse curled up at the bottom of the pocket. Squeakers looked up at her, then nestled his head back into his stomach to rest.

  She snapped the pocket shut again.

  "I can't believe it," she said to herself, looking out over the tops of the surrounding buildings. "It worked better than I expected."

  She stepped over to one of the climate control boxes and used it to support the cylinder of her flying machine while unfastening it from herself. She turned and scooted the unit back, so it rested securely on top of the box.

  Looking around she spotted Birdy hovering beside her, still wirelessly tethered to the controller she had hooked onto her backpack. She pulled the controller in front of her and used it to land Birdy.

  She breathed in the air which was cool and a little cleaner than down at street level.

  "We're going to do it," she said. "The Baron's men will be off-guard. We can get in there and find the license before they recover."

  She walked to the edge of the tower to look down at the main street.

  "What's going on?" she said, seeing the crowds of pedestrians move away from one side of the street. She spotted a single figure in the clearing, standing as all the others on the street withdrew to the other side.

  She strained to see the figure more clearly, but couldn't make out any details. The street was too far below and the lights and haze in the air blurred her view.

  She unslung her backpack and placed it on the ground. She opened it and rummaged through it, retrieving a small dented steel case the size of her hand. She flipped the clasp on it and opened the case.

  "No remarks about how they look, Squeakers," she said, pulling the folded goggles from the case. She pushed the lenses apart and put the device on, placing the strap over her head.

  The goggles were anything but ordinary. She'd salvaged the lenses and the circuitry from the junk heap on the outskirts of the industrial neighborhood in Eon. The piles of junk from scrapped ships which had landed on Eon and never left or last year’s broken technology took up five city blocks. The junk heap wasn't exactly off-limits to scavengers such as herself, but it was dangerous enough that few dared rummage through the abandoned parts and wrecks. For Tiffin, it was an excellent opportunity to feed her thirst for inventing. She knew ways in and out of the junk heap which allowed her to avoid the gangs which preyed on less savvy visitors.

  Tiffin touched the dial on the side of the right lens, calibrating the goggles to her other hand which she held a couple of feet in front of her face. The goggles were clunky. They made her head feel like it was going to tip forward. The body of the device was a bronze-colored metal, with worn red paint across much of it. From the outside, the lenses appeared to be multi-faceted crystals. When she moved the dial on the side, three low-powered lasers moved around the inner ring of each lens, shooting into one of the crystals. Bits of circuitry and a small power cell were embedded into the sides of the goggles where the strap attached.

  With the goggles calibrated, Tiffin stepped back to the edge of the roof and looked down over the short perimeter wall to the street.

  After a few movements of the lasers in the lenses she saw the man standing in the street by himself. He looked up close and in focus.

  "Oh, no!" Tiffin grabbed the top of the waist-high wall in front of her. "Jake!"

  She glanced around him and saw dozens of checkered hat officers closing in on him, shock sticks drawn.

  "Why is he standing there?"

  She felt her chest tense. Her breathing shortened and became more rapid. She looked around behind her at the rooftop, as if she might see something which she could use to help him. The lenses adjusted wildly to compensate as she darted her view around before returning her focus on the street below. She realized there was no way she could do anything from where she stood.

  She saw Jake raise his hands above his head. Watching him stand there as the checkered hats approached, Tiffin slowly shook her head in disbelief.

  One of the men took Jake's blaster from him. Then she saw three other men approach him with their shock sticks.

  Tiffin jerked back from the wall as she saw what the three men did. She gasped. "No. No… no."

  She watched, feeling helpless, as they lifted Jake onto the floating gurney. When the men guiding the gurney walked away from where he'd stood, she saw something on the ground. She touched the dial on the side of her goggles and moved it a hair's breadth to increase the zoom.

  "Looks like his comm device," she said.

  She stood at the side of the roof for the next minute watching the officers take Jake down the street. She tweaked the zoom on her goggles over and over to keep his unconscious body in view, until he was too far away to see.

  She sighed and looked down at her vest pocket. She opened it and looked at Squeakers. The mouse was sleeping. She watched him for a few seconds, then shook her head. "They’re not going to keep him," she said. "We'll get the license, then we'll find a way to help Jake escape."

  She pulled a piece of cheese from her shorts pocket and dropped it into her vest pocket onto Squeakers’ stomach. "That's what people do," she said.

  She removed her goggles and put them back into h
er backpack, then went back to the side of the roof. She looked down at Jake's comm device in the street. People were beginning to move back into the clearing where the incident took place.

  "I need to get down there," she said, nodding to herself. "Get that comm box."

  She turned and scanned the top of the building, spotting the door to the stairwell. She ran to it and opened it. It took her a little over a minute to make her way to the bottom of the stairwell.

  She paused at the door to the lobby to catch her breath before opening it. Nerves swelled up in her at the thought of walking through the building and out into the street so soon after the area had been swarming with checkered hats. But her determination to help Jake gave her resolve. She pushed open the door and headed through the lobby without so much as glancing at anyone.

  She exited the front of the building and moved into the sea of people which once again covered much of the street. Pushing her way between several people, she made it to where Jake had been and found his comm device.

  She picked it up and quickly looked it over. Then she decided she'd better get back to the top of the building before someone discovered Birdy or her own flying machine.

  It took longer to get back up the stairwell than it did to go down, of course. She was panting once again by the time she opened the door to the roof. So, after checking to make sure Birdy and her other flying invention were OK, she sat down on the rough surface of the roof to give Jake's comm device a closer examination.

  Squeakers was stirring inside her vest pocket, so she opened it to let some fresh air in. She scooted one leg out so she could get into her shorts pocket to retrieve another piece of cheese for him. Once she dropped it into the pocket he settled down.

  Tiffin quickly determined how to punch up a communication channel on the device. She didn't have anyone to call, but she decided to test it out anyway. She figured she could cut the link if necessary, but knowing who Jake talked to last might prove useful to help him out.