Many of my fellow bounty hunters were skilled at tracking and trailing a target unseen, but my size ruled out any casual following. Any bounty would spot me in an instant.
The thought of being stalked made me smile. I could put a stop to it at any point by confronting them. They weren’t trying to kill me. They wanted to rob me.
But I didn’t. This would make a worthy distraction while I searched for the missing bars. I was going to play a game with them.
That was what people did with kids, right? Played games. They wanted my money, so that was their victory goal. I needed to stop that plan and catch one of them, preferably the leader.
The little beggars would be used to that game, so it wasn’t cheating to use my professional skills to fight back. I could tell myself I’d turn the captured waif over to the authorities, whoever they happened to be on this putrid dirt ball, but that was a lie. I’d let the child go with a warning to up their game next time.
I felted chuffed. This imminent clash had me excited in a way that chasing down bounties rarely did. A real test of skills without the life-or-death consequences of being a bounty hunter. A game of relaxation, almost.
Well, the key to getting this started right was choosing terrain more to my liking. The market favored my small enemies. They could dodge and weave in between people around me, spoiling any attempt to capture them if their plan went sideways.
My size would be a significant hinderance in pursuit. I’d need a better layout of I intended to catch one, so I had to change the battlefield before they struck. Only I had to do so without making them abort their planned attack.
That meant that I needed to be subtle, something most people would deny my kind were capable of. Even better from my point of view. Playing someone’s preconceived notions against them was always a pleasure.
I made a left-hand turn down an alley that led back out of the bazaar before my stalkers could get into position to strike. I hope that ticked them off. Being pissed made for errors in judgment, an outcome I knew all too well.
The buildings beside me were two stories tall by human standards, more like one and a half by mine. That meant the balconies above my head were within reach if I jumped. Not that the rickety wood would support my weight.
If they’d been metal, I might’ve considered jumping up and using one to swing back and grab somebody. I’m sure that would’ve scared the crap out of them.
I came out of the alley and smiled. The larger buildings ahead of me suited my plans much better. There was one a block up that was six stories tall with metal-reinforced balconies.
Not that I would need them now. The plate-glass windows it sported would suit me just fine. Stage one of my plan was set. Now all I needed to do was lure the street rats into striking at me.
The crowds here were somewhat thinner, so I was going to have to make a credible show of being unaware of my surroundings to draw them in. Acting was another skill humans never associated with my people. That was about to cost a scrawny boy and his cohorts dearly.
The buildings around me held shops of one kind or another. A number of shopkeepers were outside keeping an eye on their goods. They had no trouble spotting the street boys, I suspected, but said nothing.
Apparently it was acceptable to fleece outsiders. Another strike against this damned planet.
I slowed as I got to the target building and made a show of looking through a window at the baubles. Not precisely jewelry but obviously made for decorative enhancement to human females, something that remained a mystery to me.
The glaring sun interfered with my view to a degree, but I could feel the boys closing in on me. My pouch dangled temptingly from my harness, and my attention was directed away from them. This was the time for them to strike. I added a slow motion to my torso to make it swing temptingly.
And they didn’t disappoint me. A flash of movement in the glass was all the warning I had. It was barely enough.
The leader’s hand closed around my pouch—filled with metal slugs rather than coins for just such an eventuality—while he slashed the cord holding it in place with a small knife. He was already bouncing away when I grabbed at him.
He was as fast as a striking snake. My hand missed his arm, but I snagged some of that long hair of his and momentarily pulled him off balance. That gave me just enough time to firmly clamp his flailing arm—the one with the knife—with my other hand.
“Got you!” I crowed.
“Let go of me,” the boy screeched, his voice high and shrill. “Help! I’m being robbed!”
His audacity made me roar with laughter as his friends scattered to the four winds, abandoning him to his fate.
I plucked the small knife from his fingers and dropped it to the ground. “Me robbing you? That’s rich, considering you have my pouch in your hand right now. Try again, kid.”
Even though I was in the right here, the ruckus was drawing a lot of attention from the passersby, so I wanted to be sure they knew who the hero of the story was. Well, as much as a bull-horned minotaur holding a skinny kid up by his arm could be, anyway.
The kid’s eyes narrowed, and he started screeching louder. “No, mister! I don’t want you to touch me there. That’s gross! Help!”
Okay, that was more problematic. I wouldn’t win that particular exchange in the court of public opinion, where facts were often overridden by perception and bias. That was a court in which I knew a losing case when I saw it.
I was about to drop the kid like a hot rock when I saw a number of men closing in on me. It seemed I was too late to avoid the repercussions of the brat’s mouth. I was going to have to talk myself out of this fix, and I’d do better with the evidence still at hand, so to speak.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I said. “This kid was trying to rob me. See, he’s got my pouch in his hand.”
“She,” the kid said. “I’m a girl, pervert. He wants to touch my bad places! Help!”
Boy or girl, this kid was a rat.
“Listen, it’s not like that,” I said, hearing a bit of desperation in my voice. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
The man in the lead, a hulking brute that looked as if he enjoyed bashing his face into walls as a pastime, smiled. There were gaps in his teeth, and he seriously needed to consider a periodontal cleaning at least. And a breath mint or three.
“What you’re looking for is Badar Zajac. Bad call.”
He followed up with a very powerful punch to my gut—a mistake on his part, since my kind don’t have the same weakness to the torso that humans did, and I worked out. He probably should’ve just led with his face.
The man leapt back, holding his hand and howling. He’d probably broken a few fingers. The men around him looked shocked.
In my own way, so was I. This guy had tried to sucker punch an armed Borelian. Even with friends, that was stupid.
The kid thought so, too. She was squirming hard. “Let me go! I don’t want to die!”
“Wait,” I said. “Who is Badar Zajac? I’m not here for him, I swear. All I wanted was a beer.”
At that, one of the men in the back laughed. “You should’ve considered better lies before coming for me. No one will believe that drivel. The kid is working with you, I take it. Fine. Kill them both.”
With that, the man turned and started walking back toward the bazaar. His thugs started drawing weapons. The crowd dispersed as if a magician had cast a spell. Things had gotten real, and it was time to get the hell out of here.
I tossed the kid up onto the closest fire escape as I drew my weapon. “Run, kid.”
That galvanized all the thugs into action, but I evaded their initial shots by being a lot faster than a being my size was supposed to be. I’d rather have gone some other direction than up the building, but my lines of retreat were limited.
I leapt to a different set of fire escapes so the thugs’ shots didn’t put the kid in danger. Hopefully I was occupying their attention and the kid could slip away. Being a
thief shouldn’t be a death sentence.
My speed and unexpected direction made their initial shots miss, but I wasn’t going to count on that holding long enough for me to get away. I needed to keep their heads down.
As I scrambled up the outside of the fire escape—no chance was I fitting inside it—I varied my speed and direction to keep them guessing. I outright paused once, drew my pistol, and fired several shots into the small crowd of bad guys below me.
My pistol was significantly larger and more powerful than what humans normally carried, so even the sound of my shots would be a deterrent for them. A hit would likely be fatal, which worked for me.
I hit at least one of them before I had to get moving again. Thankfully, their presence had driven off all the innocent bystanders. The only targets of my wrath certainly deserved what I was trying to give them.
Which didn’t turn out to be all that much. I was too busy scrambling for my life to actually aim. I heard some more yelling and one scream of pain but had no way to assess how effective my action was without becoming an easy target.
I lost my grip on my pistol as I sped up, but it didn’t fall far. The lanyard attached to my belt kept it from doing more than dangle.
That proved an unexpected challenge when it caught on the fire escape just as I was about to go over the edge of the roof. It took me critical seconds to lean back down and untangle it, seconds the bad guys put to good use aiming.
Bullets started knocking chips out of the brick around me, and one of them grazed me, leaving a burning line of pain across my leg.
I thought I was going to die right there, but an unexpected savior appeared to haul my ass out of the fire. The kid popped up over the edge of the roof and started throwing bricks down as fast as she could.
With one final tug, I freed my pistol and rolled over onto the roof.
“We’re even, kid,” I huffed. “Scram while you have a chance.”
“Even?” she demanded in an incredulous voice. “In what universe? Do you know who just ordered my death because I was standing near you? The biggest damned gangster this planet has ever seen.
“And here’s a clue for free. He don’t ever say ‘oh, dang, I made a mistake. You get to live.’ Not ever. He’ll make sure his goons track me down and put a bullet into my head before I talk to the cops.
“Not that that would do any good,” she groused, grabbing more bricks from a pile nearby and throwing them down onto the fire escape without looking. “They’re all on the take. Pro tip: don’t let the police take you into ‘protective custody,’ or they’ll just deliver you to his door. You got a ship?”
I leaned over the edge of the roof and shot at several men trying the fire escapes. Her bricks had them moving cautiously. “Of course I have a ship.”
“Good. You owe me a ride off this hell hole. Then we’re square.”
“Do I look like a dammed taxi service?”
“No,” she snorted. “You look like a big, dumb cow. Now stop acting like one. I tried to rob you. You pissed off a murdering gangster and made me a target. Who’s the bigger idiot here?”
“Me for even arguing with you. I’m not taking you anywhere, and that’s final.”
She considered me for a long moment and then shook her head. “Good luck getting back to the port over the rooftops before they catch you.”
I shot a few more pursuers and held up a hand. “I’ll pay for you to guide me to the port.”
“If you want to live, you’ll do better than that. I know this city like the back of my hand. Well enough to get a minotaur out alive. My price is a ride off this desert hellhole. If I can’t deliver, you don’t have to pay. See? A bargain.”
“Because I’d be dead.”
Not that I had much choice. The goons would be inside the building by now. I didn’t have nearly enough ammo to keep them back, much less save myself. It was either deal or die.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Just remember that I expect your best effort.”
She immediately pointed to the south. “Down the fire escape on that side. We’re maybe three floors up above the next building. We’ll run along this block and get off when we can’t see anyone shooting at us.”
I took off for that side of the building at a run. One look down told me it was indeed three stories, but the roof next door wasn’t empty. Two goons were just exiting the door leading into the other building.
Rather than waiting for them to get settled in, I backed up.
“What are you doing?” the kid asked, her eyes wide.
“The usual crazy shit. Get a move on.”
Three strides and I was arching out over the empty air, my pistol already tracking on the buggers. I opened fire as I flew, not really expecting to hit either of them. I’m an okay shot, but my people didn’t have the same level of fine motor skill as humans in general.
As expected, I missed and barely had time to holster my pistol before I landed and rolled into the pair like a bowling ball. I rolled once and jammed my horns into them. It meant blood all over my hide, but that was a price I was willing to live with.
The one on the left died on the spot. A horn through the throat does that. The one on the left might live with a chest wound like that. If he was really lucky.
“Are you insane?” the kid demanded when she got down the fire escape after I’d pulled myself free.
“For jumping down that little distance?” I asked as I confiscated the thugs’ weapons and ammo. These petite little things would be hard to use with my big hands, but when I ran out of ammo, they might make the difference between life and death.
“That was like fifteen meters down, and you hit hard. If you die, I die!”
“I’m built to take it,” I said, minimizing the aches I was feeling. “We only have a few minutes to get out of here before they seal off the area. Get cracking, kid. It’s all on you now.”
The next two buildings were the same height and directly abutted the one we were on, so no sweat there. The problem came when we reached the end of the row. An alley separated our building from the ones in the next block. The building there was only two stories.
“We go down here,” she said, turning for the ubiquitous fire escapes. “We’ll have to go up another few blocks and turn toward the spaceport. We’ll keep moving fast so they can’t get word of where you are fast enough to respond.”
“Great plan,” I agreed. Then I grabbed her, slapped a hand over her mouth, and ran at the edge of the roof at full speed.
She screamed, but hardly anything got out from behind my hand. Not nearly enough to warn anyone below as we flew over their heads and landed on the next building.
I’d intended to keep running just to show off, but someone had left some lumber on the target roof, tripping me. I turned that into a roll, using my shoulder to protect the kid. Moments later, I was on my feet and hauling ass.
Thankfully, the kid got with the program and shut up. Worst case, she could’ve bitten me. That seemed in character for her. Just to be safe, though, I took my hand off her mouth.
“Asshole,” she grumbled. “Put me down.”
“Nope. This way is faster, and that means we keep breathing. Suck it up, Buttercup.”
Once I’d built up some speed, we made great time. The buildings near the bazaar were tightly packed, and I had no problems making the jumps between buildings.
Unfortunately, they were also more prone to being occupied. I jumped onto one roof and found myself running past a screeching clutch of women who’d been sunbathing with the obvious goal of zero tan lines.
“Sorry, ladies,” I called out over my shoulder as I ran over to the far edge of the roof and launched myself to the next building.
“You really are a pervert,” the kid shouted in my ear before poking me in the neck.
“I’d be a pervert if I had the slightest interest in humans for that kind of thing. Trust me when I say that the women of my race have my udder attention.”
She clapped her h
and over her eyes. “Gross. You’re a pervert and a punster. Turn right at the next building. That’ll get us on a straight line for the port. Where is your ship?”
“Pit twelve dash seven,” I said as I made the indicated turn. It would take us away from the bazaar, which was probably a good thing.
“That’s on this side of the port,” she said. “We’ll get down before we get to the port, though. By now they know we’re on the roofs, so we’ll need another plan to get in.
“Zajac has a lot of people at the port, and he probably can direct the system defense ships based there. That’s why none of the bounty hunters that come for him leave. I’m surprised you didn’t figure that out before you came here.”
“I didn’t come for him,” I grumbled as I ran. “I was looking for a bar to get wasted in. It’s been that kind of week.”
She stated at me with an astonished expression that didn’t change as I jostled her while I ran. “You’re joking.”
“No. Why would I joke about serious business like drinking?”
The kid rolled her eyes. “This is a dry planet, you moron. Pretty sure that’s in whatever lists details about planets.”
I skidded to a halt and stared at her in shock. “Bullshit.”
“Unintentionally ironic while still being unexpectedly gross. This planet is literally and figuratively as dry as a bone. The prophets don’t have many rules, but alcohol violates one of them. Nobody wants a mob of howling savages to come in out of the desert and ‘cleanse’ their city, so people do without alcohol. You really are an idiot.”
Apparently so.
“Put me down right here,” she commanded. “This is close enough. We’ll get back to the street and make a run for your ship. This close to the port, they might already have drones running. With all the sand in the air, they don’t keep them up continuously, so any we see are looking for us.”
“How do we get to the port without me standing out?” I asked.
“Alleys. We can get almost to the port using the back ways. You’ll have to run the final sprint, but I can get in ahead of you to scout. You have a local com?”
The Expanding Universe 4: Space Adventure, Alien Contact, & Military Science Fiction (Science Fiction Anthology) Page 13
