by John Bowers
Without warning, Vanov butt-stroked him again, knocking him flat. But the blow was less severe this time. Nick got his hands under him and pushed himself back to a sitting position.
“You know, it’s really annoying when you do that. I forgot what else I was going to say.”
“Concentrate. I’ll wait.”
Nick chewed his lip a moment, blinking against his double vision.
“You said you lost a lot of money…training can’t be that expensive, can it? If you got paid for the weapons…”
Vanov’s smile disappeared. “We were on the edge of getting things going again, but you killed Titus Groening and confiscated the weapons dump. Those weapons we never got paid for.”
“You completely over-estimated Titus Groening. He never had any intention of resuming the revolution…and I didn’t kill him, he killed himself.”
“Pig feathers. He wanted to start the revolution up again.”
“Okay, fine. Whatever orbits your fantasy. But before he died, he told me he only did it to frame his father so he could get control of the cult. And Jeb Wiest, the man in charge of the other cult, told me he had never believed in the revolution anyway. He had no desire to get involved in another uprising.”
Vanov stared at him, chewing his lip. For a moment he seemed to be thinking it through, then he shrugged.
“It makes no difference. Our grievance with you is still valid; you sent two of our men to prison for life and confiscated several million terros worth of munitions that we never got paid for. But I didn’t put the price on your head, I’m just here to collect it.”
Vanov stood. Nick looked up at him, squinting against the sun. His hat had fallen off and lay several yards away.
“So are you going to kill me here or take me to Centauri B and do it there?”
Vanov pulled a satellite phone off his belt and keyed it. Without taking his eyes off Nick, he spoke several phrases in what sounded like Russian, but was actually a dialect commonly used on Alpha Centauri B. He waited for a response, then clicked the phone off and hung it back on his belt.
“There’s a starship in orbit,” he said. “They’re sending a shuttle down to collect you. I’m just here to get paid, so I’ll let them decide whether you live or die.”
He bent over to retrieve the magazine he had ejected a minute or so earlier. At that moment Nick knew he was out of options, so he lunged for Vanov’s knees. Taken by surprise, Vanov lost his balance and fell; Nick scrabbled forward to get the advantage and slammed a fist into his face, but Vanov was a powerful man and Nick was still groggy from the blows to his head. Vanov still had a grip on the machine gun and, in spite of Nick’s assault, managed to smash the butt into his face.
Blood squirted into Nick’s left eye but he clawed at Vanov’s shirt, desperate to keep him from getting free. He hit Vanov again, but with less force than the first time, and Vanov kicked at him, weakening his grip. Nick felt his prey slipping away, but got his hands under him and lunged a second time; this time Vanov was braced against the attack and kicked Nick in the chin, sending him sideways into the dirt. Before Nick could right himself, Vanov snapped the magazine into the bottom of the gun and jerked the arming lever. He spun to his right to bring the gun to bear, and Nick, still on his knees, found himself staring down the machine gun’s muzzle.
“Okay, fucker—the bounty poster said dead or alive, so have it your way!”
Nick grabbed the muzzle and shoved it to the side as Vanov pulled the trigger. Half a dozen rounds ripped up the ground beside him; Vanov jerked the muzzle free and took two steps back. Panting with exertion, he again swung the muzzle toward Nick’s face.
Vanov staggered backward, a fountain of blood spouting from his chest; barely a second later, the sound of a rifle shot cracked across the canyon. He stared at Nick in shock, his mouth dropping open, then managed to regain his balance; a second shot hit him in the stomach and Nick saw blood spray the ground behind him. Vanov’s fingers lost their grip and the machine gun tumbled into the grass as he toppled onto his back with a thump!
Startled and confused, Nick reached for the machine gun and hugged it to his chest, then got to his feet and darted under the cover of the trees. It took him another few seconds to make sense of what had happened, then he sank to the ground and just sat there breathing hard, shaking like an adrenaline junkie. Another minute passed before he heard approaching hoofbeats; Cybele Gannon’s grey streaked out of the trees at a dead run. She reined the horse to a skidding halt and leaped down, rifle still in hand, and ran toward him.
“Nick! Are you okay?”
She slowed to a stop when she saw him sitting there, one eye bathed in blood, staring at her. She heaved a sigh of relief and turned to look at Vanov. He was staring at the sky, eyes open and sightless.
“I killed him, didn’t I? I didn’t know if I should shoot, but—Nick, tell me I did the right thing. I had to kill him, didn’t I? He was going to kill you!”
Nick nodded wearily.
“Hell yeah, you did the right thing. What took you so long?”
***
Nick sat in the grass for several minutes, breathing heavily until the pain began to fade. Cybele gave him a drink of water from her saddlebag canteen and washed the blood off his face. She sat back with a critical stare.
“That’s not as bad as I thought. It looked like your eye was smashed.”
“Felt like it, too.” He pulled himself to his knees. “You need to pack up your stuff and we need to get the hell out of here.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“This guy said his name was Roman Vanov. Just before you killed him, he called a starship in orbit. They’re sending a shuttle down.”
“What for?”
“Vanov said the wanted poster your dad got was actually for me. It was a ploy to get me down here.”
Cybele frowned in confusion. “Why you? What did you do?”
“It’s a long story and doesn’t make much sense, but I can give you the details later. Right now, we need to get moving.”
He got to his feet and stood swaying for a moment until his head cleared.
“That was a hell of a shot, by the way. Where were you?”
She pointed vaguely. “Up on the canyon rim.”
Nick turned to look and frowned.
“That’s nearly two hundred yards away!” He glanced at her rifle. “You don’t even have a scope!”
She busied herself packing up the picnic and shrugged.
“Didn’t need one.”
“Damn.”
Two minutes later she had everything packed and slung the saddlebag up onto the grey. She turned to Nick.
“How long does it take a shuttle to get here?”
“I guess it depends—if the starship is on the other side of the planet it might take a couple of hours. If it’s directly overhead, maybe twenty minutes.”
“What about them?” She nodded toward the two bodies beside the stream.
Nick stared at them as if seeing them for the first time. He shook his head again, realizing that he was still not thinking clearly.
“We’ll leave them where they are for now. Why don’t you find my horse and then we’ll get going.”
Cybele mounted the grey and turned in search of the bay, which had bolted when the shooting started. Nick walked over to Vanov and knelt over him, searching his clothing for anything that might prove useful later on. He took a leather case containing his ID and liberated him of two magazines for the machine gun. He found nothing else of evidentiary value, but took the time to press Vanov’s fingers against the screen of his pocket ‘puter to store the fingerprints. They might be useful for a forensic search.
He heard the clop of horse’s hooves and turned to see Cybele returning with the bay. Nick bent over and dragged each of the bodies under the trees to get them out of the sun—it wouldn’t hide them from whoever was coming from orbit, but if no one removed them, it would slow decomposition until they could be recove
red.
He walked unsteadily toward the bay and pulled himself into the saddle. He still carried the machine gun.
“Ready?”
She nodded. Her gaiety from the morning ride had disappeared—now she looked morose and preoccupied.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I guess so. I just…I never killed anyone before.”
Nick regarded her a moment, then nodded.
“It’s not something to be taken lightly, but just remember that you saved my life.”
“I know. But…”
“At moments like this you do what you have to do. If you get out of it alive, you have the rest of your life to think it over and decide if it was justified. And right now—”
“We’re out of time.”
She spun the grey and began to gallop down the center of the canyon. Nick spurred the bay and followed. It took him a minute to catch up. He took the lead and kicked the bay into a dead run, racing right past the trail that led toward the canyon rim.
“Where are you going?” she shouted after him. “The trail is this way.”
He slowed the bay until she caught up, then nodded ahead and to his right. The fog in his head was clearing and he was starting to remember things.
“I’m heading for the camp,” he shouted. “When whoever is in that shuttle doesn’t find what they’re looking for, they may decide to search the canyon. We have to warn them.”
Cybele didn’t reply, but kicked her horse into high gear and took the lead again. Nick let her go, since she knew the canyon better than he did. He followed her as she wound through trees and around rock formations, taking the most direct route to the Childers camp. Three minutes later they arrived.
Dennis Childers had heard them coming and stood beside the campfire looking like a guilty child. As Nick swung down off the bay, still carrying the machine gun, Childers spread his arms wide and began backing up. The woman came out of a shelter and the little boy, Andy, peeked out from behind her.
“I’m sorry, Marshal!” Childers whined, still backpedaling. “It wasn’t my idea, I swear. Tom forced me to do it.”
Nick walked right up to him and grabbed him by the shirt collar.
“Shut up and listen! The man who killed your brother is dead, but before he died he called for help. There’s an orbital shuttle on the way down here right now, and when it gets here we all need to be gone. Do you understand?”
Childers stared at him in near-terror, his mouth hanging open.
“Do you understand?”
“Y-Yes. Ok-okay.”
“Good. Where’s your vehicle?”
Childers pointed.
“Get yourself, the woman, and the kid into the vehicle right now and get the hell out of here! Do you hear me? Leave everything and get going.”
“Okay. I got it.”
“Go straight to Centauri Springs and wait for me at the police station. If you’re not waiting for me when I get there, I will come after you. I ran a background check on you with my pocket computer and I know everything about you, including who you are, where you live, your DNA profile, and what kind of toilet paper you use, so don’t make me come hunting you! Are we clear?”
Childers gulped and nodded. Nick released his collar.
“You’ve got ninety seconds. Get moving!”
Childers took a step back, trembling. He stared at Nick as if afraid to move.
“NOW!” Nick bellowed. “MOVE! GO! GO! GO!”
Nick remounted the bay and sat watching as Childers and the others scrambled toward a hovercar parked under a stand of trees. Andy was crying and the woman snatched him up, running toward the vehicle. In less than a minute Childers had it fired up and lifted off, drifting toward the north end of the canyon. With a burst of power the car cleared the canyon rim and disappeared beyond it, heading in the general direction of Centauri Springs.
Nick turned to Cybele.
“Your turn.”
She frowned. “What do you mean, my turn?”
“Get the hell out of here. Ride home as hard as you can.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not riding out of here alone.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen when they get here, but I don’t need you in the line of fire if there’s trouble.”
“Like you didn’t need me half an hour ago?”
Nick opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.
“Nick, if I ride out now, I’ll be completely exposed. It’s more than three miles to the house and most of it is open country. If that shuttle sees me, and if it’s armed…”
He chewed his lip…he hadn’t thought of that.
“I see your point.”
He turned to survey the Childers camp, then thought better of it. He had no idea how many would be in the shuttle, nor whether they would conduct a search when they found Vanov’s body, but if they did search and found the camp, it would be an obvious target.
“Are there any caves around here? In the canyon wall, maybe?”
“No, but there are some rocky areas where we might find cover.”
“How far away?”
“Not far.” Cybele nodded toward the northwest. “But we better go now. We have to tether the horses out of sight.”
Nick remounted the bay and swung him around.
“Okay, lead the way. And make sure your rifle is fully loaded.”
Chapter 11
Prater Canyon – Alpha Centauri 2
Cybele Gannon knew the canyon probably better than anyone else on the planet, but it still took them ten minutes to find a suitable hiding place. Absent any caves in the area, Cybele found a rocky area along the canyon wall, fifty feet below the rim, where the boulders were big enough to mask heat signatures from infra-red scanners. The horses were a bigger problem, however—it was impossible to get the large animals up to the ledge, and they likely would not have remained there in any case; instead, they tethered them in a small wooded area surrounded by thick shrubbery. They would be screened from normal vision, but if anyone with IR scanners made a concentrated search, they would be found easily.
“It’s the best we can do,” Nick said as they left the animals to graze on the wild grass beneath the trees. “Here’s hoping they don’t look too hard.”
Cybele didn’t reply. Her face was taut with fear and she gripped her rifle with white-knuckled hands. Nick could hear her labored breathing.
“Just take it easy,” he said. “We have good cover here, and even if they do spot the horses, we might be okay. All we can do is take it as it comes.”
She stared at him a moment.
“How do you do it?” she asked in a strained voice.
“How do I do what?”
“How can you be so calm? I’m scared out of my mind.”
He shrugged. “Que será, será.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. Like I said, take it as it comes. One minute at a time.”
She snuggled against the boulder and closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. A moment later she opened them again.
“I still can’t believe I killed that man.”
“Just be glad he didn’t kill you…or me. And be ready to do it again if you have to. Let the moral implications wait for another day.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Okay?”
She nodded, her chest still rising and falling.
“I’m glad I’m not here alone. And I’m glad I’m here with you. If it was anyone else…”
“Just relax. You’re doing fine.”
Nick scanned the sky in all directions, as much as he could see. A starship shuttle could come from any direction at all, and shuttles came in all shapes and sizes, so he was uncertain exactly what to expect. He checked the machine gun, a light, hand-held infantry weapon, and familiarized himself with its features. A .29 cal was big enough to mow down a lot of men and even aircraft, but he wasn’t sure about spacecraft, which were generally hardened against re
entry. At the very least, the gun would be intimidating if he had to use it.
Twelve minutes after he and Cybele took position amid the boulders, Nick heard what sounded like lifters, the fans used on hovercraft. He hadn’t seen anything approaching, but the sound came from a southerly direction, consistent with the far end of the canyon where he’d left Vanov’s body. Cybele’s eyes widened as the sound intensified, as if a jet aircraft were making a vertical landing. It never got any louder than that before it stopped, but Nick was puzzled…the noise didn’t sound like any space shuttle he’d ever heard. He raised his head above the nearest boulder to take a look, but could see nothing. They had hidden themselves a little too well, perhaps—if no one could find them, they also couldn’t see out.
“What’s going on?” Cybele whispered.
“I think something set down at our picnic spot, but it doesn’t sound like a starship shuttle.”
“What do you think they’re doing?”
“Impossible to tell. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“How long do we wait?”
“Until they go away.”
Nick checked his watch, kept an eye on the sky, and tuned his ears for unusual sounds as the minutes dragged by. He could imagine one or more persons stomping around the streambed where Cybele had killed Vanov, muttering curses and trying to figure out what had happened. If they were adept at tracking, they might follow the hoof prints to the Childers camp, and from there to this hiding place…but he hoped they would be too impatient to go to such lengths. If there was more than one visitor they were probably discussing it, perhaps arguing about what to do next. He checked his watch again.
Seven minutes later he heard the sound again, quieter this time, as if something fairly light were lifting off. He tried to identify what might cause the sound, but came up empty. The sound died away then, and he tensed…whatever had landed in the canyon was airborne again, but which way would it go? Nick scanned the narrow slice of sky visible to him, and a few seconds later it came into view.
He was surprised. It wasn’t a starship shuttle at all, or any other kind of shuttle; it was a modified gunsled. He’d seen dozens of them during his military service—the Star Marines used them for reconnaissance and as assault vehicles. They usually held two men, a pilot and gunner, and the center of the sled normally featured a fixed tripod with a laser weapon attached. They were light, fast, and most important of all, quiet.
