by Chris Turner
The two crept eastward toward the lodge, and many a clammy feeling tugged at Yul’s skin: a premonition that they were being stalked by some savage forest beast. Sure enough, an ugly growl echoed from behind.
Trixie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Cungas! Sounds like a full-grown male. They can take down a dengal with their eyes closed.”
“What are they?”
“Saber-toothed panthers is as close to a description as I can get.”
Yul gripped his gun. They had their rifles but one of those monsters could easily spring out of nowhere, kill them in seconds. “Let’s hope they find choicer pickings.” The moment he spoke, another lusty growl echoed from the dense trees. He ducked. A few seconds later a human scream shrilled from not sixty yards away. The shriek faded to a dying hiss through the mist-shrouded trees, leaving behind an unnerving silence. One of the poachers would not be making it to the ship tonight.
“Come on, let’s move,” Yul rasped. He grabbed Trixie’s arm. They hustled down the dengal path.
Chapter 5
Hours later they caught the first glimmers of lamplight filtering through the parasol-shaped bonderol trees. On weary legs, they crept nearer the ranch and stood crouching by the hedgerow, wispy coils of mist hugging the ground. The yard was bathed in a pale yellow glow from the standing lampposts: one by the barn, another by the lodge. Trixie gripped Yul’s arm. “Lan is back.” A single light was on in the ranch house.
Yul nodded, though a tremor of unease moved up his spine. Parked at the side of the lodge stood a red, battered dust buggy, wheels caked with dirt. It looked like one of those back at his father’s salvage yard. Odd. Yul tugged at his chin. No dengals loitered by the gate and fence. He guessed this was not their feeding time.
Yul motioned to her communicator. “Try Banzari,” he hissed. Despite the rust-tinted moonshine and the steady glow of the lampposts, her color didn’t look good.
“Thing’s broken.”
“Try anyway.”
She pulled out the damaged unit, curling her lips. The faceplate was cracked but a dim light shone on the console. She speed-dialed Banzari.
A faint jingle rang through the open window. No answer. Yul clasped the back of his neck. More weirdness.
“Go!” he pushed her back behind the hedgerow. “Call the police and hightail it out of here. Take my four-wheeler. It’s parked at the end of the driveway.”
Trixie nodded vigorously, only too happy to get out of there. Her last look back at him, licking her fleshy lips, was of gratitude, as if to say, ‘good luck’, as she scrambled ass over end to the safety of the shed en route to Yul’s vehicle.
Yul turned back to the ranch house. The kerosene light dimmed, then flickered. He moved toward the entranceway, checking his rifle. Mounting the veranda, he paused, gingerly testing the front door. The latch was open.
He let himself in, closed the door gently behind him. He poised on the balls of his feet, hardly daring to breathe. One cautious step after another, he stalked the hall.
Yul’s eyes adjusted to the dimness. Why were all the lights off? Where was Banzari?
He blinked in the moonlight streaming through the windows. Before him lay a spacious living area. High ceilings. Rustic chandelier suspended from triple iron chains over a long dining room table. Stone fireplace and hearth set to the side with stacked wood. Expensive furnishings. Smell of varnished wood and jasmine-scented candles. An eerie expectancy hung in the air, as if danger lurked in every shadow.
Yul shook off the ghostly feeling of some skullduggery at play. Stiff backed, glancing from side to side, Yul crept down the hall, his rifle in hand. He wished he had his own E1, but this was all he had. He’d lost his weapon back on the killing grounds in the wilds. This black-cast weapon was unfamiliar in his hand. It felt clumsy and unreliable.
He came to a standstill before the study door. It stood ajar. The faint murmur of voices drifted to his ears. He crouched, listening, a tense scowl on his lips.
He nudged the door open with his shoulder. Taking a few steps inside, he scooted over in the shadows by the table, fingering the camera. He set the recorder on.
A harsh voice spoke in the gloom: from one of two dim figures standing about fifteen feet away, “Tried to play it nice, Banzari, but you brought in the milk man. Now you’ve got a real problem on your hands. Me.”
A pistol came down and whipped Banzari’s chin with the muzzle. Yul heard an agonized howl.
From the place where he crouched, he got several seconds of damning video, to complement the audio of the dead poachers.
Out of the side door connecting with the kitchen, another figure appeared. Two mugs of coffee were clutched in hand. Yul tensed in disbelief. Damn, who was that? Could it be?
“Hey, Banzari, I turned down all the lights like you asked. Looks as if you stirred up a hornet’s nest. I don’t see—”
“Step over there, Pops!” The gunman’s teeth glinted in the dim light. “You two geezers, over by the wall. There. Now! No funny stuff.”
Rande choked. “What the hell—What’s the meaning of this?”
“Move!” The thug knocked the coffee mugs flying to the floor.
Something alerted him to Yul’s presence at the last instant. He whirled and spat blue fire. Maybe the click or flash of the camera’s infrared.
“Creeping up on me like a weasel! You sneaky bastard!” The gun muzzle arched up in a rain of more fire.
Yul dove for cover, cursing as he fired at the lone gunman, only to have the rifle jam in his hands. He tossed it aside in disgust. Must have gotten battered back at the dengal fight.
“Yul, watch out, Son!”
Yul scrambled for the closet. Fire ripped by his heels and smoked the soles of his boots. He crouched in the corner, waiting for bullets to riddle him. He reached over, pulled the door shut, panting.
The thug roared, “Unless you want to eat a few hundred kilowatts of blaster, I’d suggest you come out of that cubbyhole, coward.”
Yul’s mind worked double time. He doesn’t know if I have another weapon.
“Let’s all relax,” Yul shouted through the crack. “Maybe we can work out a deal.”
“Only deal that’s going down here is instant forfeiture of this property! I’m getting the rights to these dengals. Big money at stake.”
“Banzari’s not going to sell,” said Yul. “Go get your dengals from somewhere else.”
“This is a special breed. They can get high return for Veramax. Special dengals on Banzari’s ranch. Perfect for experiments, especially the horned ones, like those males. Veramax and her subsidiaries’ll dish out mega yols.”
“Big slice for you too, eh, you bastard?” cried Banzari.
“You could say that, and I reckon your milk boy’s just the gnat in my side that could mess this up. Too bad you slipped up and came unprepared, chicken shit,” the gunman sneered. “If you come out quietly, I’ll promise to kill you quickly.”
“Otherwise?” Yul said.
“Dear old dad here might not fare too well.”
Yul heard the click of a switchblade as it flicked open.
“Yul, don’t do it,” came a hoarse voice, Rande’s.
“Shut up. Get back, you old codger!”
Yul heard a thump and a painful groan as a boot collided with a fleshy part. Yul gritted his teeth, weighing his options. Too few in retrospect.
“Enough,” said Yul. “I’m coming out. Ease up on the knife, bozo, and the fucking gun. So how much is Veramax paying you?”
“Enough. Get your ass out here.”
“You’re gonna kill us anyways. Might as well tell us.”
The gunman gave a short laugh. “Sure, okay. 300k. What’s it to you? Not a bad haul for a few weeks’ work.”
“And you can live with all the blood on your hands?”
“I’ve lived with worse.”
Yul slowly opened the door and walked out, his shoulders thrown back, face creased in a truculent scowl.
&nb
sp; “Ah, you sentimental fool,” the gunman jeered. “Pegged you for a more enterprising sort, Vrean. Reckon that’s about the stupidest thing you could have done right now—walking out with nothing to deal.”
The man wore a mask and black tights. Lean, wiry, fast and capable, a compact E1 clamped in his right fist.
“Maybe not, tough guy. You’re on candid camera. I uploaded the video and audio feed of the past few minutes to my safeguard site. They’ll be public news come tomorrow.”
“You fucking idiot! Know who you’re playing with here? These people’ll rip your legs off like wings of a butterfly and feed ’em to the fish.”
“Don’t care. I can disappear and be gone for years if I have to.”
“You’re going to be dead, smart man, along with your family.” His voice was a gravelly hiss. “Get over there. You die first, milk boy.” He shoved Yul over with the others.
“Who are you?” Yul snarled.
Banzari leaned against the wall, spitting out a wad of blood. “Meet Harvey Ymir. Veramax’s prime stooge.”
Ymir clicked his tongue. Smiling a crooked smile with too many teeth, he motioned the gun. “Now, that’s no way to introduce a new business associate.”
“Let them go, Ymir. It’s all over,” said Yul. “You can’t win with that footage—”
“Shut up.” He slammed the pistol against Yul’s skull. Blue stars flashed before Yul’s eyes. He staggered back. “Another word and you get your ass fire-bombed this second. Now get over there, you idiot.”
The thug tried his communicator again. No answer. “Now tell me, what the hell have you done with Tommie? Did he and his rock heads fuck up again?”
Yul stared in defiance.
“Thought so. That’s what happens when you hire amateurs to do a pro job. Damn fools, Sim and Lebbie too. Came down to deal with my annoying problem, and I find you.”
Yul shook his head. His father stood eyes glazed, and for the first time, hunched in fear.
A dazed light-headedness joined the throbbing pounding away at the back of Yul’s head. Looking at his father, he realized just how this would all go down and it drowned his heart in sadness. The Vrean family would sink into quicksand…and soon.
Rande stared, closed his eyes, as if to blink away the pain. “Sorry, Yul. I came out with Banzari to see what was up. Wish you hadn’t come along…”
“We all came at the wrong time, Dad.”
“Okay, very touching,” said the thug. “Family reunion. You going to sign over, Banzari?”
“Never.”
Ymir shrugged. “Your call. You all die. What do I care? Either way I get paid.”
Yul drew a deep breath. If he could edge his way over and smash this rogue with his mechanical fist... No, Ymir had them covered too well. Could they rush him at once? Yes, but two of them would get blasted to shit before the other could get his hands around Ymir’s throat. This rambling was going nowhere. Ymir was an incorrigible bastard.
“Yo, daddy-o,” Ymir motioned to Rande. “Bind your bum buddy to the chair. Now! No fucking dawdling!”
Ymir set a pen and the deed to the estate on the table, reached over to pull Banzari’s head back and jam the rifle barrel in his ear. “Tell you what, Banzari. I’ll break every finger of your left hand, one by one, then start with your toes, until you sign that paper. After that…” He flicked out a hypodermic from a pouch at his waist.
Banzari gave a snarl of rage. In one fluid, desperate motion, he backhanded Ymir in the face. A shot rang out, clipped Banzari in the calf. He went down howling.
Yul moved in like a cat. He clocked Ymir in the ribs, bulled his head into the extortionist’s side, slammed the breath out of him. Smashing him sideways, he sent him stumbling against the wall. At the same time, he grabbed for the gun.
His metal fingers nearly tore it out of the murderer’s grasp. But not quite. The barrel went rolling, clattering to the floor.
Rande grunted and dove for it. A boot whipped out and caught him in the teeth, sending him teetering back wheezing in pain. Yul and Ymir tumbled to the floor, wrestling like bears. Yul lashed a punishing blow at Ymir’s midriff. He heard a grunt of anguish. Ymir squirmed out of his grip and snatched the long syringe from his waist pocket. He stabbed out wildly, trying to jab the end into any part of Yul’s body he could reach.
Yul caught the wrist. He smashed the hand aside. He felt the cold squirt of liquid on his exposed cheek. Grimacing, he bent the quivering arm back. The needle pricked the gunman’s neck. Ymir let out a horrid shriek. Juice from the needle pumped into his jugular.
“You fucker!” cried Ymir. “What have you done?”
“Get a taste of your own medicine, bastard.” Yul scrambled away. “Play with poisons, get yourself dosed. Hope it kills you!” He gloated in triumph.
Rande, recovering from the boot kick, scrambled to his knees to snatch up the fallen weapon. He trained it on the villain.
Ymir frothed at the mouth. He swayed, eyes bulging. “You’ve killed me…it’s a bio-inhibitor—we give it to the orneriest beasts to prepare them for surgery.” He gurgled, more froth forming at the mouth. “Makes—them—resistant, crazy, rearranges their cells—” His eyes slid back in their sockets. Then his body convulsed. He spat like a rabid dog, then lay still.
Yul staggered over to Banzari. He set the rancher’s back gently against the table leg.
“I’m okay, just grazed.” Banzari winced. “No broken bones. Hurts like a bitch though.” He clutched at his calf.
“Gunshot wounds have that tendency.”
“Gotta get you to a doctor.” Rande pulled out his handheld and dialed emergency.
Yul wheezed, “I told Trixie to dial the cops. She’s out there somewhere. Maybe she’s taken off. Police should be here soon.” He stood, swallowing the urge to heave at the ruin of what once was Ymir. Yul felt no pity. The sudden tension and exhaustion caught up with him and he sank to the floor.
His father hurried over and crouched at his son’s side. “You okay, Yul?” His eyes blazed with concern. “That was some nasty hit you took from that creep.” His father put a hand out to steady him. Yul nodded, blinked as his double vision shifted back to normal.
They stared at each other a moment, unvoiced emotions passing between father and son. Something Yul hadn’t felt since...well, not since he was a young boy about ten-years-old. He forgot the pain thumping in his skull and gave over to the peace streaming through his body.
Chapter 6
The next afternoon Yul and Banzari sat under the gazebo staring out at the dengal pasture. Trixie’d been given the week off to recover. Banzari had in the meantime, hired temporary help. The police had been through with a fine-tooth comb and had required miraculously only minimum testimony from Yul.
“All the evidence is sound, Banzari. We all squeaked through this with just a few cuts and scratches.”
Banzari nodded, hobbling on his crutch to replenish his drink. “When the buggy broke down, took me hours of walking and wading through swamps and fields, cutting through bush to get to your dad’s. Knew something was off at the ranch. Should never have come back here to get those damn legal papers. Ended up paying for it.”
“Could happen to anybody. We’re lucky to be alive. Past couple days have been a shitstorm.”
Banzari shook his head with a rueful sigh. “If you hadn’t shown up, Yul…” Banzari flashed him a troubled frown. “What’s to stop Veramax from trying again?”
Yul held up the camera. “I wasn’t bluffing that scum Ymir that time. Got enough evidence here to keep Veramax and their affiliates iced for the next century. The upload was a bluff, true. But I have enough incriminating evidence with Veramax’s name mentioned multiple times to put a kibosh on their shenanigans. How much they paid Ymir. Names, times, places. Irrefutable voice signatures. They won’t be licensed for any business contracts on this planet for a long time, if ever.”
Banzari breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. So you’re confident they’l
l back off?”
“Guaranteed.”
“Nice and clean, eh, Yul?”
“You paid me to do a job, I did it.”
Banzari’s face broke out in a broad grin. “Can’t thank you enough.” He gave Yul a hearty pat on the back. He winced at a sudden spasm in his leg. “You’ll get your 10k bonus when I see that there’re no follow ups. What’s your contact info, so I can send it to you?”
“Best you pass it on to my father.”
Banzari nodded. “Thought you might say that. Rande’s going to hear some good words from me.”
Yul smiled. “That’s worth more than all the yols in the world.” Surprisingly, even to himself, he meant it. He turned to stare at the dengals wandering in the pasture past the fence. But his face returned to that characteristic moody cast—of a man constantly under fire, waiting for the next crook with an eye for vengeance to come looking for him. A man wondering when it was all going to catch up with him and put him in his grave.
Banzari’s ebullience faded. “You don’t seem too pleased, Yul.”
“Never am, Lan, after a job, truth told.”
“Why’s that?”
Yul shrugged.
“Vrean, you got to lighten up. All business and no play makes a man cynical and jaded. Here, I’ll put you up on my ranch for however long you want. Please don’t protest. Pick any dengal. Yours free, to ride or keep. A good investment. Plenty of riding here, open space, fresh air and nature galore. Hell, I’ll even throw in one of the ranch cabins free! Stocked with booze, ice, food, whatever you want. You name it. You saved my ass, and Trixie’s and the dengals’.”
Yul looked to the sky, the placid field, the swaying trees. It was beautiful, a thousand acres of pristine ranchland. What more could a man ask for? His nerves were no less than jangled after the last couple of jobs—that messy one out in Cortis had nearly buried him. Still had nightmares of it—of falling bombs, knives in the dark. One of these days fate was going to catch up. Well, at least one good deed was done for the day. “It’s a nice offer, Banzari, but maybe later. I got another prospect. Just came through the holo tablet. Something with Cyber Corp, a mega company. Could be a major stepping stone, if not a sizeable bonus.” Too early for retirement, but maybe a start for a fund, or a ship of his own.
