by Sean Kennedy
Ezra reached for a small tube and whacked it against his palm. The chemicals and filaments within the lumistick made a snapping sound, and the liquid within the tube began to glow.
Their eyes met over the icy blue luminescence the tube was giving out. It was Ezra who looked away first, affixing the stick to the side of the door so he could see what he was doing.
“These are the exact same doors we have on the Lilliput,” he explained. “In fact, they probably had to buy them from the very same place we did back in Shrevesport. There’s a trick mechanism in them that will release the locks, just in case you’re in an accident or something happens on board to make the primary handle unable to open.”
“Whoever has us was probably hoping we wouldn’t know this,” Icarus said.
“It’s not exactly common knowledge,” Ezra agreed. “Unless you’re a builder or a con artist.”
Icarus regarded this statement. “I have the feeling you’re a little of both.”
Strangely enough, Ezra didn’t take offense. “You have to be to survive in this life, don’t you?”
“Sounds a bit mercenary,” Icarus retorted.
“Is it?” Ezra started to concentrate on selecting various drivers and wrenches. “You have to be mercenary in the way you deal with the government in order to achieve your goals, don’t you?”
“But I’m helping the victims, not aiding the injustices against them.”
“But that’s not what I’m saying,” Ezra argued, pulling the lumistick off the door and in closer to where the bolts were in the door. “I’m saying you use mercenary tactics in your line of work, just like I do. You have to be a con, stealing the goods. And you have to be smart, so you can actually survive to do it another day.”
“Not that smart,” Icarus grunted. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You were obviously doing something right. I’m surprised you lasted this long, especially when you had so many people against you.” Ezra ran a flat-plated driver beneath the swing plate of one of the bolts. With it in place, he activated a small, mechanized screw to burrow beneath it, finding the original screw and pushing it out.
“Until I met you,” Icarus pointed out. “I guess you’re saying that you were too good for me?”
Ezra turned to face him. “Truth be told, I was just in the right place at the right time. You fell onto our ship, remember?”
“Or maybe you caught me,” Icarus said softly. “Just like I caught you before.”
Ezra was struck by his words. “Like fate?”
“I don’t know if I set anything by fate,” Icarus said. “But it’s surprising.”
Ezra retrieved the screw, and set it to work on the second plate. He found himself wanting to open up to Icarus. He had told him before that being a bounty hunter wasn’t his usual job, and it wasn’t, but it seemed like a lie when Icarus was his prisoner. However, the tables had changed now, and they were both captives of somebody else. The balance of power had shifted and become more equal between them. Maybe Icarus would believe him now that his fate didn’t lie in Ezra’s hand.
“Jazz and I don’t normally deal in the trafficking of men,” he murmured. “And Jazz never wanted in on it from the start. But I had a plan, and I needed money.”
“It always comes down to money,” Icarus said derisively. “But when it comes down to it, those that have none usually don’t care. All they want in the end is food and something to keep their head dry.”
“Once they have that, though,” Ezra reminded him, “money will be their next concern. It’s only human. We all can’t be as altruistic as you.”
“It’s a dire view of humanity.”
“Didn’t you want the truth?” Ezra retrieved the mechanized screw again and put it back in the leather pouch. “Man will always want to secure himself, and in our world money does that.”
“And what will your money get you, Kneebone?” Icarus asked.
Ezra reached for the flat-plated driver again. “Security.”
“Money doesn’t guarantee security.”
“And nothing is guaranteed in this world, except death,” Ezra grunted as he used the driver to lever the faceplates away from the door frame. “So, unless you want death to come sooner than you hoped, let me get this stinking door off its bolts.”
“And what do we do then?” Icarus asked. “Do you have a plan?”
“Why don’t you come up with one while I do the door?”
“Great,” Icarus fumed. “No plan.”
“Would you rather just stay stuck in here?”
“I’d rather not die, if we have to rush out there and fight our way off without any weapons.”
“There might be a way off,” Ezra said wildly. “There could be parachutes—”
Icarus paled considerably.
Ezra had to laugh. “You’re kidding me?”
Icarus licked his suddenly dry lips. “I don’t like parachutes.”
“You fly around all the time on man-made wings!”
“There’s security in them.”
“Not if they stop working,” Ezra pointed out.
“They haven’t yet,” Icarus replied proudly.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t like to be using them the day they do.”
“You could say the same thing about your damn ship!”
“You could,” Ezra agreed. “But I’m not the one too scared to strap on a chute.”
Icarus pushed past him and faced the door. “Fine. Is this damn thing ready to go down?”
Ezra pushed him back, so he could take up position near the frame’s edges. “Yes. Just watch the master do his thing.”
He used the tips of his fingers to act as a lever in the frame. With a little bit of pressure, the now-unbolted flaps fell to the floor in the small space between the door and the frame. Ezra risked a quick, smug glance back at Icarus.
But a new sound cut through the air. The door handle was turning, and the door itself began to open. Now off its hinges, it began to fall onto Ezra. He braced himself for a world of pain, but felt Icarus’s hand grasp onto his shoulder and pull him out to safety.
The door fell to the metal floor with a clanging that Ezra was sure would be heard in the cockpit, even in a ship this size.
Three of the men who had cornered them in Settler’s Pass stood in the doorway, evidently shocked by the condition of the door. But they were mercenaries, and surprises never shook them for long. Instantly their guns came out as one, aimed at the captives in the cargo hold.
Chapter 14
“DARLING, what’s wrong?”
Jazz could have cried with relief at the first familiar, friendly voice she had heard in hours. Of course, she would have liked it much better if that voice had come attached with the face associated with it, but a disembodied tone through the hiss of a speaker was just as good right at this moment.
“Bart,” she said, and struggled to say anything else.
The cockpit seemed filled with the white noise of the speaker, and then Bart’s voice came through again.
“You’re scaring me, Jazille.”
The use of her full name made Jazz pull together. And there would be no pretenses.
“Bart, I need your help.”
Immediately, the response came back. “Tell me what you need.”
Jazz wished more than anything that Bart were with her right now. Part of her hated this feeling of dependence she had upon her, but as she knew that Bart truly reciprocated her feelings and equally and willingly shared them, she knew she had to disregard that one major quibble within herself and accept what she truly wanted and needed.
“We managed to get Icarus,” she said finally. “He was injured, so we took him to Settler’s Pass to see a doctor. But when we were there, both Ezra and Icarus were taken by bounty hunters.”
“Ezra was kidnapped?” Bart asked in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“I suppose I am meant to be surprised, but I can’t say that I am,” Bart said, although
there was concern in her tone rather than censure. “I think on the day that man was born there must have been some eclipse that shadowed his life in misfortune from thereon.”
Jazz smiled, although it was a weak one. “I don’t think Kneebone would disagree with you.”
“How did you manage to elude the captors, dear? I’m sure there’s a story there, although I’m also sure I don’t want to hear it.”
Jazz shivered and pulled her blanket tighter around herself. “I flew in to try and pick them up, but the men started firing at me. The Lilliput got damaged, and I had to fly off just in case I ended up crashing on top of the town itself. I’m about three clicks out of the city, and the ship is damaged. I only just managed to get the comms back up and running.”
There was silence, and for a moment Jazz thought she had lost all communication, but Bart’s voice finally came through again.
This time it was as if it was possessed, full of vengeance and fury. “They shot at you?”
“Yes, but—”
“They dared fire upon you?”
“I don’t think it was personal, Bart. I was just in the way of their quarry.”
The steel in Bart’s voice could not be softened with such explanations. “Do you think I care about their rationale for doing so, Jazille? The end result is that they tried to kill you, and if you will not take it seriously, then I shall do so on your behalf!”
“Bart, please calm down. I didn’t call you to get you upset.”
Bart sighed, a passionate sigh full of displeasure and worry. “I’m coming to you, my love. Three clicks out of Settler’s Pass, correct?”
“You will?” Jazz asked. “That was what I was going to ask
you—”
“I cannot believe you thought you had to ask. I will just have to get Albert to pack, and find us transportation. But I will be there as soon as the sun next sets, I promise you.”
“Make it sooner, if you can,” Jazz whispered.
“If you insist,” Bart said with a dramatic flourish. “That man! I always knew that one day I would have to ride into some podunk town and save his sorry ass. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“Hurry,” Jazz said.
“I will, darling. But I will leave my comm on, so hopefully if you need me I can still be contacted.”
Jazz signed off and looked out the window into the darkness. Now that she knew Bart was on her way, and she would have a copilot to help her track down Ezra and Icarus… well, suddenly it didn’t seem so dark out there anymore.
EZRA could feel Icarus’s chest against his back as they retreated further into the cargo hold. They inched back as the three men made their way in.
“What the hell happened to the door?” one of them asked.
The man in the front, obviously the self-styled leader, grunted. “Were you trying to escape, boys?”
Another laughed. “The captain ain’t going to like that.”
“We caught them in time,” the third said. “He’ll have to be happy about that.”
“Captain’ll just think we’re doing our job,” the leader said.
“Rafe—”
“Shut it,” the leader, his name now revealed, said; menacingly he advanced on Ezra.
Strangely enough, Ezra had calmed down quite a bit since the door had crashed down. He now knew the leader’s name, and a name was a powerful thing, especially when it could be used against the wearer.
“Rafe, is it?” he asked pleasantly. “I’m Ezra Kneebone, and this is, well… I guess you know already.”
“What are you doing?” Icarus hissed.
Ezra ignored him, but his hand fell back and grazed over the flat planes of Icarus’s stomach to silence him. He could feel Icarus freeze, almost as if insulted, but this wasn’t the time or place to worry about hurt feelings.
“The mighty Icarus,” Rafe sneered. “But I have no buggery idea who you are.”
“Sorry, didn’t you hear me? Ezra Kneebone.”
Rafe backhanded him with his pistol. Ezra was yanked around so that he was face to face with Icarus. He could see concern in the other man’s eyes, although his face remained passive. Good, he knew not to show any emotion.
Ezra spat out a small stream of blood and turned back to Rafe. “Did I offend you?”
Rafe and his cohorts laughed. “Offend me?” Rafe jeered. “Like I said, I have no idea who you are. We only care about the people’s hero.”
Ezra shrugged and said to Icarus, “I think he’s talking to you.”
“I’m sure if you straightened up and flew right, you could be the peoples’ hero as well,” Icarus said lightly.
“We’ve got some funny boys here, Rafe,” said the third man.
Rafe nodded and glared at the two prisoners.
Ezra wondered in what context they meant funny to be. He hoped that it didn’t mean funny in regards to sexually funny, because then he and Icarus were likely to be in even more of a world of hurt. Big tough guys like this, who obviously had no sexual hang-ups of their own, liked doling out their issues with suspected nancy-boys.
The three of them began to move forward as one. Ezra positioned himself between them and Icarus, and held up his hands in surrender.
“Come on, now,” he said in a voice that sounded calmer than he actually felt. “I don’t think you want to rough up the merchandise.”
“If I remember,” one of Rafe’s minions said, “The poster said ‘Dead or Alive’.”
“Yeah,” sniggered Rafe. “And it said nothing about you.”
They shifted again, and this time Ezra felt himself being pushed behind as Icarus stepped in front of him. He scowled and tried to push back, but Icarus jostled with him and managed to keep him back.
“I’m sure your boss would have something to say about that,” he threatened.
Rafe looked as if he would love to do nothing more than plant his fist in Icarus’s face. “What makes you so sure, angel boy?”
The other two laughed in unison even though the insult was weak.
“Because they never would have taken him in the first place,” Icarus argued. “They would have left him in the dirt otherwise.”
Rafe moved forward again, but a whistle sounded, and they all froze in place.
As a voice started speaking immediately after the alarm, Ezra realized that it was the signal for an announcement from the captain, obviously needed because the ship was so large.
“Rafe, what the hell is taking so long down there?” a deep voice demanded.
Rafe looked chastened, but tried to butch it up as he turned to a panel by the side of the door and activated the comm. “Nothing, sir, we’ll be up presently.”
“Are the prisoners alive and well?” the captain asked dryly.
“Present and accounted for, sir.”
“Is Kneebone conscious?”
“Yes, sir,” Rafe turned back to glare at Ezra. “He is.”
“Get back up here, I need you.”
“Immediately, sir.” Rafe released the comm button and leered at Ezra and Icarus. “I guess it’s your lucky day, boys. We have to be elsewhere.”
“We were worried,” Ezra said. “Really.”
He heard Icarus growl a warning, but they were safe for the moment. Rafe snarled, and nodded at his minions. They pushed through the door, and Rafe suddenly remembered the condition it was in. “You,” he said to the closest minion. “Keep an eye on them until I come back down and we seal this up again.”
Ezra and Icarus retreated to the back of the cargo hold while their lone captor took position by their only exit.
“That was stupid,” Icarus hissed. “You get him angry, and he’ll definitely take pleasure in pounding your face once his boss gives him the okay.”
“We’ll be gone by then,” Ezra shrugged.
“Well, aren’t you confident!”
“I like to be a ‘glass is half full’ kinda guy.”
“How does the captain know you, anyway?”
/> Ezra sat back down on one of the cargo crates. His leg was stinging again, and he was beginning to feel tired. That wasn’t good, especially as they still had to get out of here somehow. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t recognize his voice, either.”
“So now you’re pissing off people you haven’t even met?”
“It’s a gift,” Ezra muttered.
Icarus folded his arms and drummed his fingers against his skin. “We have to get out of here.”
“Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying ever since I woke up.”
“But what’s-his-name has a gun.”
“The two of us could take him,” Ezra said confidently.
Icarus gave him a pitying look. “Maybe if we both weren’t wearing a bullet wound apiece.”
“Come on, we’re tough. We can do it.”
“We’ll be dead before we get to the door. Dead or alive, remember?”
Ezra grinned. “If I remember rightly, Rafe said that was just for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Glass half full, see?”
“It’s funny,” Icarus mused. “But I have no difficulty in believing there are many people out there who would want you dead.”
“And you said you didn’t know me.”
That strange feeling was building up in the air between them again—
—but perhaps it was just sensing the laser bolt before it tore through the hull and bounced off the bulkhead above them. Icarus pushed Ezra to the floor as the laser continued to strike off any surface it hit before the energy finally dissipated.
The whistle sounded throughout the ship again.
“All hands brace for impact!” came the voice of the captain.
“Nice of him to warn us,” Icarus said.
The ship shuddered as it was struck again. Their captor lost his footing and fell into the cargo hold as the ship tilted slightly downward. Ezra scrabbled over the floor to him, ignoring the pain in his leg, and managed to straddle the man before he could get back up. The man was strong, and bucked wildly beneath him as if he were a bull at a rodeo, but Ezra hung on grimly, striking him repeatedly. As the man reached for his pistol, Ezra grabbed it with his free hand and smashed it into the man’s nose. With a gurgle, he lost consciousness.
