The Relic (The Galactic Thieves Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  He flung his helmet off and lifted his hand just in time to snag the blade before it lodged into his forehead. It cut right through his palm and down to the wrist, but he showed no sign of pain. He pulled on the sword, yanking Max toward him, picked her up by the top of the head and shook her like a doll. The snap of her neck cut through the arena.

  “NO!” Sam cried. She ran at Laender, dodging just as many SFAQL blasts as she got hit with. But one knocked her right in the shoulder and sent her twirling across the arena where she hit the ground, still.

  Laender looked at me. “She cheated,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  Two times in my life, I’ve had nothing to say. This was #2. So I spoke with my eyes. I hoped they’d get the point across. I wanted them to tell him that his time was up. I wanted him to know that his brains would run between my fingers.

  “You know that, right?” He said again. “She cheated.”

  “She never had a chance,” Blue answered back, “and you know it.”

  “None of you do,” Laender stated, almost sadly. “Unless,” he turned toward me, “you can give me what I require.”

  “What the hell do you require?” I asked.

  “First things first,” Laender said with stony eyes. “It’s time for you to meet Father.”

  MEETING FATHER

  Laender walked over to the pillar and manipulated something under the outside edge. The entire column went transparent, revealing a box inside. Pressing a few more buttons, the box opened and a head floated out.

  So this was The Relic? A fucking head in a box? That’s what had been getting everyone killed?

  “This is Kat, Father,” said Laender as he walked over to me.

  “Hello, dear,” the head said as it floated a couple of feet away from me. “What is it about her that strikes you as different, my son?”

  Son? What the hell?

  “There is a strength in her, Father.”

  The head floated closer, looking into my eyes. I had on my defiant face, but I felt as though I was going to piss myself.

  “Yes,” said the head, “I can see that. She harbors fury.”

  “That’s because your fucking son is a murdering piece of shit.”

  Laender smacked me hard across the face. “You will show proper respect,” he said, coldly.

  My eyes watered at the sting of the slap. I’d been hit before, many times, but that hit was strong enough to nearly break my jaw.

  “You bastard,” Blue said, kicking out at Laender.

  “Calm, calm, calm,” said the head. “There is no need for such physical ferocity.” Laender backed away.

  Interesting.

  The head then turned back to me. “He’s not a murderer, miss. He just uses whatever tactics are necessary.”

  “Such as murder, for example?”

  “Is it murder if it’s in self-defense? Is it murder if armed soldiers try to take over his ship and he defends it?”

  I let him go on. He had something to say. Maybe he’d say something I could use.

  “Is it murder if those who are slain have been tracking him across the far reaches of space in order to take something that does not belong to them? There is a risk to your profession. Each second that you persist in your endeavor, you put yourself out there to be killed. It, as I have heard many of you say, comes with the territory.”

  So that was it, then. This “Father” thing was the real brains behind it all. He was the one who pushed the buttons that made the psychotic Laender kill. But for what? And then there was the obvious question…

  “What’s this truth you seek, old man?” I asked.

  “Not I, miss, him. He seeks to understand the meaning of life.”

  I scoffed. “Don’t we all?”

  “Yes, but he is uniquely positioned to understand what others cannot. His mind is not like yours.”

  “No shit,” I said, expecting another slap, but quickly added, “By killing, he wants to find this answer? How does that work exactly?”

  “It is believed that in the moment where one passes from this realm to the next lies the truth, the meaning, the very essence of what it means to be alive.”

  “And so he ties people up and offs them?”

  “Sometimes,” said the head. “There are many methods, miss.”

  “And none of them work?”

  “Alas, no.”

  “Are they ever able to defend themselves?”

  “Of course,” Laender chimed in.

  This would give me a chance. “And here I thought you were smart, Laender,” I said with a smirk.

  He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back hard. “You know something. Speak it.”

  “Let go and maybe I will.”

  He stepped back, looking confused.

  “Hmmm,” said the head. “My son was right, you truly are different.”

  “Maybe the reason you never get the truth,” I said, “is because you do the same shit over and over.”

  “That’s false,” said Laender. “I have placed people in all sorts of circumstances.”

  “Yet they were all helpless, asshole.” His hand came up again, but I said, “Hit me and you’ll never know what I’m about to share with you.”

  He lowered his hand smoothly.

  “Tell me.”

  “When a person is helpless they’re in the wrong frame of mind. It’s all fear. Fear will never give you the answers you’re looking for. You need a survival mindset. A helpless person begs. They have nothing else. And even if they don’t beg, they’re still helpless. But a person who has the option to fight—”

  “Yes,” said the head, nodding. “This is logical. What do you suggest, miss?”

  “Untie me, Daddy-O. Put me and your asshole here inside a ring, give us both equal weapons. Make it a fair fight. If I lose, I’ll die without fear.”

  The head turned toward Laender. “You must do as she suggests, Laender. You will win.”

  “As long as it’s fair,” I pointed out again. “If it’s not fair, I’ll know it.”

  “Fair, then,” affirmed the head. “You will do this, Laender, yes?”

  “I will do this, Father,” Laender said coolly.

  KAT'S GAMBIT

  The SFAQLs’ red eyes dimmed. I took that as my cue and stood. I tried to get my feet under me but my body was so abused and exhausted from lack of sleep that I saw stars before anything else. When my vision cleared, Laender was already in the middle of the arena. His cut hand was taped and gloved. His choice of weapon? Two swords. Fucking show off.

  I studied the wall of weapons. I knew which one I wanted to use within seconds. But was I in any shape to take the risk? I remember thinking, screw it, this is the end anyway. And if it’s not, then godsdammit.

  I slid the shield out of its cradle. In my head, which was not in its right mind, I named the shield Fred.

  I faced my next victim.

  “That will not make a fair fight,” Laender said.

  “You’re welcome to pick again if you want, prick.”

  Laender’s glare was unreadable. But the pause made me think I was getting to him.

  “Your name-calling isn’t necessary.”

  “Okay, shithead, duly noted.”

  Again, he said nothing. Reading his face was like reading the ingredients on a can of Barkon. Incomprehensible. Unsettling.

  I’m not sure what got into me, but I liked it. I was a dead woman walking. Injured, exhausted, resigned to my fate. And I guess that was just the right mix of misery to make me feel fucking fantastic. I pushed Fred the shield in front of me and ran at Laender. Because, why not, really?

  I ran into something as unmovable as a wall. That much was clear from the loud clanging noise and my profusely bleeding nose. But when I peeked around the edge of the steel plate I saw that my victim was, indeed, a wall. Laender was fast. So fast that I couldn’t even begin to guess where he’d gone.

  It was luck that made me turn just in time to block two blades
. They slid off the surface with a high screech that left two huge tears in the steel. I managed to see Laender crouched in front of me before he leaped back into the shadows of the rafters above.

  “You are not a worthy foe,” he said. His voice seeped down from the shadows.

  I kept the wall behind me to limit the area I had to defend.

  Then I had an idea. It would hurt. It might kill me. But, yeah, so anyway.

  “I made a hundred orphans this afternoon,” I said. “I’m worthy. Daddy-O, your boy isn’t as smart as you think.”

  “Do not talk to him,” Laender said.

  Then he dropped down on my head. I raised the shield just in time to save my neck from cracking under his boots. But he managed to swing one of his blades underneath Fred. Clipped me good right through the chin and almost all the way to my lower lip.

  But the thing about blades is this. They’re super fast going in, but slow as hell when they get pulled out. Finnicky that way. And that split second, where the edge resists being dislodged from the bone—that was all I needed. Yes, my brilliant plan was to get his sword wrapped up in sinew and bone. Yes, I am fun at parties.

  I was already falling from the weight on my shield when the sword made its cut. By the time I was lying on the floor, I had become Laender’s floor.

  So I moved like a really wobbly, misbehaving throw rug. A bad, nasty rug that wanted him to trip so it could grab the blade’s sharp edge with its bare hands and yank it from his grip as he tried to find his feet under him.

  Which I did.

  Sure, my hand was cut to the bone. But I wasn’t worried. It was my left hand, after all. My left hand belonged to Fred the shield. It would be safe under his protection. My right hand, though, that hand belonged to my brand new sword. Larry.

  You might wonder why I started with all this Larry and Fred stuff. But come talk to me when you’re in hand-to-hand combat to the death with a fucking maniac and then I’ll let you judge me to my face and I might even buy you a drink to hear your story.

  So at this point it wasn’t looking too good.

  On one hand, there was me. Half my hearing gone from one of the random explosions I’d survived that day, two dear friends poorer, a new double chin (extra bloody) and half the hand I’d had when I last woke up three days before.

  And on the other hand, there was Laender, who’s pride had a booboo from losing one of his weapons.

  The only way to even the odds was to cheat. Just a little. Just enough to get and keep the edge. Because if my cheat led to anything less than his nuts roasting on my iron skillet, I was a dead woman.

  So I dabbed the bottom of the sword’s blade with a thimble of blood (readily available from just about everywhere) and I pulled a Shakespeare.

  “What the fuck, asshole?” I yelled, fake-angry. I had a lot of practice doing my fake-angry face, with a team of charming scoundrels under my command.

  I held up the sword and showed him the blade. I hoped that my small bloody mark looked like a button or a switch or something, anything but a bloody mark.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “You tell me,” I barked, twisting his former sword back around so I could pretend to study the “button.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You said a fair fight. So what’s this then? No honor among psychopathic maniacs, is that it?”

  His shoulders dipped about an inch. He looked from my eyes to the sword. He let his guard down.

  Bingo.

  I threw the sword first. I knew he’d be able to dodge that easily. I threw the shield second and prayed to the god of Fred that he couldn’t dodge that too.

  He could. Easily. Fred was a total miss. Larry was kicked to the opposite wall where it lodged into the metal with a thunk so deep and loud I thought it would bring Penn back to life.

  I was out of ideas. So I threw myself last. I threw my semi-good hand around his neck and waited for one of his blades to go through me. Instead, he shoved me away and stood there, waiting.

  I kicked. He blocked. I punched. He ducked.

  It was the kind of fight that’ll make you want your money back.

  “This was not the plan,” he said. “You must die in a fair fight, Kat.”

  He looked at me in a way I might have enjoyed a few hours previous. Back when he was the mysterious Mr. Handsome Face. Like he wanted something only I could give him. I met his stare. I didn’t blink. I tried to connect with him in some way. Any way.

  But there was nothing there. I felt alone. Like I was the only person in the room. When I looked closely, I realized that the expression on his face wasn’t passion, or fear, or frustration.

  It was empty.

  “What are you?” I asked.

  “I must even the odds,” he said to himself in a low mumble. He keeled over with a retching moan. When he stood up straight he was grabbing a cable that he’d spit out of his mouth. Its blinking lights glowed through a moist sheen that he wiped off with the palm of a hand.

  I threw up.

  An android? A goddamn fucking android?

  “What are you doing, Laender?” Daddy-O said.

  Now Laender spoke without moving his mouth. The sound came from a speaker somewhere. “The fight must be fair.” He thumbed a few buttons on the cable.

  One of his eyes went pale white. The right side of his body, including the muscles on his face, drooped. He was handicapping the fight.

  I didn’t wait for him to finish. I’m not that kind of lady. I was on top of him before he could adjust to his new capacities. I let it all out with every punch. For Sam. For Penn. For the loss of my family, he had to suffer.

  He tried to fight back, but by making himself weaker to match my strength he’d forgotten to factor in the fucking righteousness of my cause.

  And I think he knew that. In whatever processor he had that factored in unknowables, or whatever code drove him to fill in the blanks, he finally got it. Because as he spit up oil or somesuch crap, and as his one good eye disappeared in a flow of blood from my knuckles, I saw him get it. He couldn’t smile because I’d pretty much taken his mouth off, but his good eye managed a grin, then it drowned in red liquid.

  I fell off of him and stared at the rafters for a minute. I think I passed out because the next thing I remember is having my hand on Max’s face. It was cold and I was crying. Her dead eyes were still open. My hands were so slick from blood that I couldn’t close them, which just made me cry harder.

  Then I heard something scrape across metal. The only reason I heard the slight noise was because I had my ear to the floor. If I hadn’t heard it... I don’t like to think about it. But I did hear it, and I did look up to see that Penn had a hole in her head, but she was trying to stand up.

  That’s all the motivation I needed to stand, cross the arena and pull her into my lap.

  “Daddy-O?” I asked the head.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Is there a Table on board?”

  WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS

  I woke up to the sound of Sam wailing. She was on her knees, with Blue standing over her.

  “What…” I managed to say before getting hit with enough pain to make me dry heave. I half slipped out of my bed. Blue came over to help me up.

  I grabbed her arm. Hard. She sucked in about seven pounds of air in pain.

  “Max?”

  Blue shook her head. She glanced at something across the room. Max’s body lay in the ship’s casket.

  Fuck.

  “Penn?”

  “She’s alive. She has a donut in her cheek but she’ll be okay.”

  I made to sit up but Blue pushed me back down. “Nuh-uh. Down.”

  “I want to see the ship myself,” I said. “You miss shit all the time.”

  “I didn’t miss anything.”

  I looked down at Sam, still kneeling on the floor, rocking back and forth. “Sam,” I whispered, “get up.”

  She shot me a glare I’d never seen on that pretty face befo
re. I hope I never see it again.

  “Where’s The Relic?” I asked my surviving crew. They looked at each other like they were trying to decide who should fly me to the closest asylum. “Where’s the fucking head?”

  “It’s in the cargo hold,” Blue said. “We stuck it in a barrel along with the android and slid it under a ton of supplies.”

  I nodded as the pain surged. “Good. How long do I have to be on the Table?”

  Blue checked the panel. I had thirty minutes to go. To say it flew by would be incorrect. It dragged like a dog’s ass across the carpet. Worse was enduring the sobs of Sam while trying to hold in my own tears. Max was gone and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. It was my fault. All of it. They’d argue with me, of course—well, except maybe Sam—but the fact was that I’m the captain of this damn vessel and the blame falls on me.

  “I’m sorry, Sam,” I said. “If I knew—”

  “You would have done the same thing,” Sam said. “The same fucking thing, Kat.”

  I didn’t reply. She was right. I would have gone for the Relic in every version of reality.

  “And you would have been right,” she added more softly.

  Sam walked over to the casket. She pressed a button on the side and I heard the finality of the cover closing.

  “Bye, sis,” Sam said as she activated the launch sequence.

  The casket began slowly pulling into the wall. It would seal off the section once it had cleared the main area, and then it would be jettisoned into space.

  “I’ll be on the bridge,” Sam said dully as she left the room.

  “She should really be in bed,” Blue pointed out while wiping her eyes.

  Blue was probably right, but that wasn’t how Sam worked. She’d need to keep occupied or she’d go nuts. Hell, the same was true for all of us. Max was a pain in the ass, sure, but she was family, and you don’t get over losing family.

  “How long before Penn is cleared?”