Capture Death

by Michael Anderle

  >>I am not sure that is possible without hiding the ship. Remember, the last time we were here Shinigami had to fight off a lot of cyber-attacks. It would not take long for hackers to realize the fingerprint of the defense if they attack you again.<<

  Baba Yaga thought about it for a moment while reclining on her bridge chair. “Let’s see if we can purchase a small landing spot with a warehouse to park inside. We will not connect to the world’s communication network until we have a suitable security program in place. It should block any fingerprinting of our defense measures.”

  Shinigami told her, “This will require at least an hour to accomplish.”

  Baba Yaga nodded in understanding as she checked a few screens before touching a button that moved them away from her. “That’s fine, I’ll just take a quick nap. Wake me when you’re done.”

  No sooner had Baba Yaga said this than she got comfortable, turned her head to the side, and closed her eyes. Her white hair fell across her face, blocking out the slowly dimming bridge lights.

  Planet Devon, Older Warehouse Area Outside the Main City

  Baba Yaga kept the hood of her cloak around her face as she stepped off the ship.

  It had taken close to three hours before Shinigami’s research into the right location had been completed. Then the right palms had to be greased to help the paperwork flow, but finally all legal documents were in proper order. Once that was accomplished, Shinigami was able to land and move itself into the warehouse.

  Both Shinigami and ADAM calculated it was safe to do this in the early morning light with the ship’s cloaking engaged.

  The shadows still cast by the tall buildings to the east would keep the rather run-down warehouse district shrouded in shadow for another half hour.

  >>Should I tell Lerr’ek that you have arrived?<<

  No, I’m going to get the pulse of the city before I find him. Just locate him to the best of your ability.

  As she stepped out of the large warehouse the three-story-tall doors closed behind her, eventually clanging shut as she waited. Baba Yaga looked around and sniffed the air. The smell of cutting fluids and some sort of petroleum product seemed to be the main components in this blue-collar area. Her own building had office space for a business.

  It was exactly what she wanted. “It’s dark, it’s out of the way, and I can hide myself.” She wrapped her cloak tighter as the thin atmosphere made it harder to breathe, and she coughed.

  “This atmosphere needs to be fixed,” she mumbled as she strode down the long street between the different warehouses. She had probably walked a mile and had only seen three organics before ADAM directed her into one of the entrances into the city’s interior.

  Most of the city was comprised of enclosed spaces. Underground areas had been carved out of the rock, and the large buildings above ground were constructed from local stone, metal and glass, or high durability plastic. They occasionally towered high above her.

  Before she walked inside, she watched the air traffic. A few personal ships flitted through the buildings, and one or two large commercial bus-type transports waded between the buildings.

  She wasn’t sure if it got busier later in the day.

  Underground it was a different story. She was jostled many times as huge crowds surged along the different walkways and through tunnels going who-knew-where. She just kept walking and enjoyed the feeling of anonymity.

  “No wonder the prince wanted to switch places with a commoner,” she mumbled. “It feels more alive…”

  “NO!” a voice yelled, and her head whipped around to locate the direction of the sound.

  “You could just protect yourself,” she grumped. She now heard a clang and some struggling, so she pushed through the crowd. She had almost passed the correct tunnel entrance when she heard another cry. She turned quickly and was rammed in the side by an alien that looked like a large purple centipede.

  Bouncing off in surprise, she took off down the hallway leaving the alien bitching at her in something even her translation couldn’t figure out. Realizing the sounds had been amplified in the tunnel. The altercation wasn’t very close.

  She bounded up two levels of stairs into a large, darker cavern and kept climbing as she studied the mechanical contraptions inside.

  “What is this shit?” she asked, jumping up another flight of stairs.

  >>Probably the core air and liquids systems for a skyscraper above us.<< Adam replied.

  She stopped at the top of the third flight, where the metal grating stretched at least two hundred yards down the side of the cavern and then turned a corner.

  Inside her hood, her mouth dropped open in surprise.

  Someone shouted, “GIVE IT BACK!” and then she heard a high-pitched scream of frustration. There were three regular-looking aliens punching a small Shrillexian, who had covered his head with his arms.

  A package dropped to the ground as the Shrillexian stepped back. He didn’t notice a fourth alien, a Torcellan with a pipe, ready to clock him over the head when he could get a good lick in.

  The Shrillexian went down with a thump when the opportunity presented itself to the Torcellan. He looked at the downed Shrillexian, pipe in his hands, before dropping the pipe. It banged twice before it rolled off the gangway and dropped three flights to the rock floor below, clattering around down there for a moment.

  The Torcellan, his almost albino humanoid appearance making him easy to recognize, placed a hand over his mouth and gagged. He then shoved himself past the others, who had been staring at him, and ran toward the staircase she had just come up. She moved into the darker shadows as he sped by.

  He didn’t have a good color to his face, to be fair to him, she thought.

  She hoped he found a washroom in time.

  The others helped up an older two-legged Yollin female. One of them handed her the dropped package.

  None of them noticed Baba Yaga slowly slide in behind them. “You did good,” Baba Yaga hissed aloud.

  The three aliens turned in surprise to gape at the dark-cloaked person in the shadows, the whoosh of the nearby air-pipes the only thing breaking the silence as they pondered whether they needed to try and protect themselves once more.

  “You may leave.” Her hood nodded toward the tough on the ground. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed something wrong. “I will take care of him.”

  “Why?” asked a medium-height alien. Mustard-yellow skin and high cheekbones were just two of the attributes that made him different from the typical bipedal design of a lot of aliens.

  That, and the fact that his skin looked reptilian. So far he hadn’t stuck a foot-long tongue out, and she was grateful for that.

  Because…gross!

  “I want a word with him,” she replied as she gestured for them to move along. “And you need to give all of the lady’s stuff back to her.” She pointed to the older Yollin woman. “Check your bag.”

  The mustard-skinned leader’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” he asked, his hand settling near his waist.

  Baba Yaga started chuckling, and her dark raspy voice was not pleasant no matter how good the translation efforts. “I’m the Mistress of the Planet,” she whispered, “and you will obey.” She lifted a hand, and a blue sphere appeared. Lightning arced and snapped off the sphere to different parts of her arm and fingers. It crackled louder than the whoosh of the air-pipes, so it captured their attention. “Or you will die.”

  “Here!” A gray alien behind the snake shoved a couple additional items into the Yollin woman’s hands and started running, and a second later the other alien followed. All that remained were the snake-looking leader and the Shrillexian on the ground.

  “Pull that weapon,” she nodded towards his hand, “and I’ll make your Shrillexian friend here take your dead corpse to the nearest trash disposal unit.” She released the globe and it hovered in the air before slowly floating in his direction, moving a few feet a second.

  A moment later his eyes opened wider as it
grew in size. When the arcing blue sphere had travelled half the distance between her and him, he took off running. Baba Yaga waved to the woman to leave. “I’m going to have a discussion with the one on the floor.” She turned to nod towards the staircase. “May you have a better morning.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, nodding as her mandibles clicked in appreciation. She slowly sidestepped towards the main walkway, and as she turned to hurry down it a moment later she called back over her shoulder, “May the Empress live forever!”

  Baba Yaga waved a hand negligently. “Yada yada, Empress forever,” she hissed as she took two steps towards the Shrillexian. “You can get up under your own power, or I can use pain to help motivate you,” she said aloud.

  “It’s not like that didn’t fucking hurt.” The Shrillexian turned over, groaning while reaching up to gingerly touch his head. “That wasn’t in the plans.”

  “I suspected not,” Baba Yaga replied, looking down the hallway. She wondered if the Torcellan had relieved himself of the contents of his stomach in public. She turned back to the Shrillexian. “You heal quickly, so stand up.” When she casually flicked her hand, a small blue flash of electricity arced between it and him and little spiders of electricity crawled quickly over his body.

  “OWWW!” He rolled away from her, then pushed off the ground and jumped up. His feet came down one in front of the other, prepared for an attack, as his hands came up to protect himself or punch.

  He hadn’t needed to bother, since she hadn’t moved.

  “You are better than this!” she hissed, her voice dripping with scorn. “Shrillexians are a proud people! What are you doing working with con artists?” She jerked a thumb in the direction the others had fled. Stepping closer, she pulled down her hood. “What is your name?”

  The Shrillexian was annoyed. He had been ready to deliver a beatdown to the stranger just a moment before, but now he took an involuntary step backwards.

  He tried to talk, but nothing came out for a moment. His shoulders slumped and he took a knee, head bowed. “Keitphet.”

  “Keitfet. Keitfel. Ceatput… Fuck it,” she hissed in annoyance. “I’m calling you Keith. Stand up.” He did so as she watched him. “Now attack!”

  He jumped at her, raising a hand to slam down on her head and kicking out with his left leg. She slapped the kick out of the way and jabbed her left palm into his chest, knocking him backwards. He slammed into the metal walkway and rolled.

  He reached out in time to grab the rail that protected people from falling off, but both his legs went over the side.

  Keith worked himself back onto the grating before standing up once more. He resumed a fighting stance, but moved no closer.

  “Good,” she hissed, walking towards him. “You are still willing to challenge me.” She stopped ten feet in front of him with her hands hidden in the sleeves of her robe.

  He put his hands up. “I need to move this needler behind me on my waist, I’m not going to use it on you.” She nodded, so he reached back and slowly brought it around with his right hand.

  He looked down before slowly flicking off the power button and shoving it into his waistband. “Rather be shot in the ass than in the front,” he told her. “Truth to tell, I’d rather not be shot at all.”

  “How very unShrillexian.” Baba Yaga stepped closer. “You never answered my question. Why are you with those con-artists?”

  “I need to fight,” he answered.

  She blinked twice before she asked, surprised, “You do this so they will beat you up?”

  “No,” he admitted. “Every third con I get to be the hero and take them out. They are allowed to fight back when it’s their turn to be the thief.” Keith shrugged. “I make up for the beatings at that point.”

  “Why don’t you have a job?” She looked around. “Perhaps not here.” Turning back to him, she continued, “Why aren’t you in a mercenary group or working as a bouncer or training fighters? I have to believe a Shrillexian who can heal himself if you kick his ass is worth hiring.”

  “Doesn’t work that way.” He placed a hand parallel to the ground at the level of his head. “No one believes a short Shrillexian is a good hire.”

  “It isn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog,” she grumbled.

  “What’s a dog?” he asked.

  “You.” She waved him forward. “Come with me. You will be working in one of my companies.” She started back towards the stairs. “You will be happy to know the HR Manual only has one rule.”

  They went down the three flights of stairs and out into the main traffic tunnel, which was less congested than before. Three blocks later he finally spoke again. “Um, what’s the rule?”

  She didn’t slow down at all as she answered, “Don’t upset the Mistress of the Planet.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  QBBS Meredith Reynolds

  Eric said goodbye to John after the two of them dropped off their armor and weapons for a complete check with the R&D Labs.

  Nothing had happened during the general’s political meetings, but Jean was paranoid. She would be checking everything for enemy effort, especially nano-spy devices and digital attacks.

  It was damned good to be home.

  There was a tag on his HUD, and he checked it out and smiled. The boys had come over for the monthly dinner.

  He picked up his speed so he would arrive soon after dinner started. Gabrielle wasn’t one to move the time she served dinner, so you had to move your ass to get there on time.

  “Meredith,” he subvocalized, “please make sure I make all available transits and open the doors for me.”

  “Is this another ‘Operation Get Eric Home Quickly?’”

  “Yup,” Eric agreed and amped up his speed. He cut through two parks, and jumped up three floors on one occasion to crawl over a wall. This surprised two lovers, who had thought his shortcut would be a safe place to make out.

  “Sorry about that!” Eric told them, smiling before he disappeared.

  —

  The young woman looked at her boyfriend, whose mouth was open. “Arthur, who was that?” she asked. He turned to look back to her, a twinkle in his eye.

  “You know,” he told her, pulling her closer to him with a smile playing on his lips, “you’ve always said you only had eyes for me.”

  “Sure,” she answered. “I’ve said that for two years now.”

  “Well,” Arthur nodded toward the hallway where the man had just disappeared, “that was proof you meant what you said.”

  She frowned. “I’m not sure if I should hit you or be happy.”

  “That was Eric Escobar, one of the Empress’ Bitches, who is married to Gabrielle Nacht, Stephen’s daughter. A close friend of the Empress. I know a couple of women who would jettison their husbands if someone like him were to smile in their direction.”

  “Yeah, but he isn’t you.” She leaned in to kiss Arthur harder.

  —

  Eric made it home just as Gabrielle set the last side-dishes on the table. She turned and winked at him. “I figured if I made the rice you would walk a little faster.”

  Before Eric could say anything John Michael piped up, “Dad, Mom had Meredith show a map of the station with a blip for you.”

  Gabrielle turned to her son, eyes narrowing.

  Stephen Michael reached over to grab the Spanish rice. “Personally I was hoping you might be a little late so I could have your portion.”

  “Keep it up, Steve.” Eric kissed his wife and pulled out his seat at the head of the table, “and I’ll take all of the rice for myself, including,” he picked up his fork and reached to his left, swiping some of the rice his son had just placed on his plate, “all of yours.”

  “We have two grown men for sons,” Gabrielle commented as she sat down, “and when the three of you get together to eat it’s like I have three boys again.”

  “We are what we are, Mom.” Stephen passed the bowl of rice to his dad. �
��You should roll with it instead of fighting the inevitable.”

  John Michael grabbed a steak before passing the platter to Gabrielle, who passed it to Eric. He turned to his father. “So, did you kill anyone?”

  Stephen rolled his eyes.

  “We call it an ‘after-action report.’” John elbowed his brother. “You diplomats should learn a trick or two.”

  Eric took a steak and made sure he had plenty of rice. Gabrielle’s eyebrow rose at the fourth spoonful, so he placed it back in the bowl. “Nope.”

  “Maim?” John Michael asked.

  “Nope,” Eric replied.

  “So it was quiet at the meeting?” John asked, a little surprised.

  “Oh, hell no,” Eric answered before taking a bite.

  “That’s what I keep trying to tell All-Testosterone-and-No-Brain-Cells next to me.” Stephen elbowed his brother back. “Diplomacy is chess with major repercussions.”

  Eric looked up from eating to see all three looking at him. “What?”

  Stephen asked, “So what happened?” The other two nodded their agreement with the question.

  “Um.” He scratched his chin. “The General wanted to kill some of the groups by the end. They want to gut the Empire of our military so that ‘we can all be equal.’”

  John was talking with his fork. “Why the hell would we do that?”

  Stephen answered, “It’s pretty much a requirement, otherwise everyone will continue building their own militaries and eventually someone is going to be bored or need to focus the people elsewhere so they’ll attack. It’s better to try to keep everyone pretty equal.”

  John Michael shook his head. “Uncle Lance won’t let that happen.”

  Stephen Michael shrugged. “Well, unless he wants another war right now I’m not sure what choice he has.”

  Gabrielle replied, “You will find out that you always have options, Stephen.”

  Stephen Michael shrugged. “I can’t think of any, and I reviewed the archives with Giles.”

  Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed. “He’s doing digital archeology?”