by N M Tatum
“I’ll go first,” he offered. “I’m all about this plan. Love the idea of walking into a labyrinth of tunnels to find a guy who wants to kill you. Totally onboard.”
Reggie clapped Cody on the back in reassurance, which may have had the opposite effect than he intended, since the impact made Cody gag again. He held it down, though.
“You good to go?” Reggie asked him.
“Not even a little,” Cody answered. “Let’s go.”
The entrance to the abandoned mine wasn’t like those Reggie had seen in the old western movies his dad liked to watch. The tunnel that always had treasure hidden inside, or served as the hideout for a notorious gang of bandits. It wasn’t outfitted with state-of-the-art mining tech. Rather, it was fitted with a coupling that served to attach state-of-the-art removal technology to the mouth of the mine and suck ore out after the miners hacked it free. Being that this operation was owned by one of the richest mining companies in the galaxy, they tended to view the blue-collar miners doing the work as expendable. Dozens had been sucked up by the tech meant to collect ore. They were probably turned to fuel right along with it, too.
The Notches passed through the entrance, and a chill ran up Reggie’s spine. The place had a ghostly vibe to it. A dead place, underground, cold, stinking of sulfur. Reggie couldn’t escape the feeling that he was walking into hell.
They stopped every ten yards so Cody could check Trevor’s map against his wristcom, making the going slow. The further they went, the more Reggie could feel the weight of the ground over his head. Gravity seemed to get stronger. He felt like he was going to be crushed. Then he imagined the rock walls changing around him, hardening and taking on a shine, and, suddenly, he was back on Intergalactic Station 12.
His heart began to race. His head throbbed. Sweat formed on his brow.
“Guys,” he said, wheezing. “I need a break.”
He fell against the shaft wall and slid down to a sitting position. His face turned from burning hot to freezing cold and back again with every labored breath. He felt the heat of the flamethrowers on his cheeks. The sticky ShimVens’ blood. The cold of the metal floor as he lay, waiting for the bugs to eat him.
“I know I’m not the one to usually say this,” Cody said, “but I would rather we power through the next leg. I don’t know how much more of this stink I can take.”
“For once, I agree with Cody.” Joel kicked a small rock and watched it roll down the shaft. “I lied before. I’m not down with being underground at all.”
The ferocity Sam showed aboveground seemed to have ebbed. She moved slowly to Reggie’s side and sat with him. “Just take some deep breaths,” she said. “It’ll pass.”
Reggie drew in as big a breath as he could and let it out slowly. He did it again, and the tightness in his chest began to ease.
“Remember where you are,” Sam said so only Reggie could hear. “And remember where you’re not.” She patted him on the knee then stood to rejoin the others.
Reggie took another deep breath. The throbbing in his head was gone. He wiped the sweat away. “No bugs,” he said to himself. He stood, ran his hand along the rock. Not metal. Just rock. Not on the station. On Torex. “All right,” he said to the others, his voice still a little shaky. “Let’s keep going.”
Joel and Cody pressed on, seemingly unaware that Reggie needed anything other than a breather. The tunnels twisted and turned and wound through the rock like a snake trying to eat its own tail. The rotten bones of the old mining operation were still scattered about. Rusted equipment. Broken down movers. Piping and vents in disrepair. Cody had to kick Joel to get him to keep walking past it all.
An hour into their journey, the team started to get restless.
“This is some bullshit,” Joel said. “Trevor sold us a piece of paper he used to wipe his ass with and then sent us to wander around these tunnels until we die. Fucking Trevor.”
“Trevor is a piece of shit,” Sam said. “I don’t argue that. But money is all he cares about, and he knows that screwing over customers is bad for business. If he says the map is good, then the map is good.”
Joel threw his arms up in the air. “Then why haven’t we found this guy yet? How much longer are we going to do this?”
“Until we find him,” Sam said. “We need weapons.”
As if they were waiting for the perfect line, a group of rat creatures barreled out from a hole in the wall. They snorted like bulldogs and were about the same size. Three of them in total, each sporting a mouthful of jagged teeth. They formed a barrier stretching the width of the tunnel, cutting off the Notches’ path forward, and started hissing at them like mutated possums.
“Great,” Joel said. “This dungeon’s got random encounter battles.”
“Then get in battle formation,” Reggie said. “Long-range fighters in the rear, melee fighters in front.”
“I don’t think rat monsters respect the turn-based fighting system,” Cody said.
Reggie pulled the pincers from his belt. “They’ll respect these.”
Sam yanked her dagger from her boot. “Guys,” she said to Cody and Joel. “These things are fast. If they rush us, we’re in trouble. Grab some rocks and start throwing. Keep them off balance and on the defensive. Me and Reggie will get in close and finish them off.”
Cody and Joel fell back and scooped up as many rocks as they could hold. Reggie and Sam formed the front-line. They could all hear it in their heads. A different song for each, but it served the same purpose. Fight music.
Cody threw the first rock, surprising himself with his accuracy. He hit one of the rats in its front leg, hobbling it. Joel threw next, hitting just wide of a second rat. Following up on Cody’s strike, Sam lunged forward, slashing down with her dagger and cutting a huge gash across the rat’s face. It screeched but did not flee.
The second rat took its turn, charging at Reggie. It was faster than Reggie anticipated with its stumpy little frame, but not fast enough to clamp its jaws on his leg.
He swung his leg back, avoiding the attack, and yelled “Counterattack!” before bringing his foot forward like a wrecking ball and cracking the rat in the side of the head.
Sam stabbed it in the neck before it could run back to its comrades, and the first rat fell dead. The second and third rats seemed shaken by the sudden disruption of their surprise assault. They attacked out of fear now, rather than as part of a hunting party. The second rat, still hobbled, tried to rush Reggie. Joel caught it in the head, and it tumbled forward. Reggie drove the pincers down into its midsection, killing it instantly.
The last rat was frenzied. It charged at Sam, baring its teeth and hissing. She drove her foot into its face, and Joel and Cody peppered it with rocks. Then Reggie and Sam both stabbed it. The battle was over.
“Cue victory music,” Joel said. After a celebratory dance and flourish, he adopted his victory pose and held it until Sam smacked him in the back of the head. “Right,” he said. “Back to dungeon crawling.”
They encountered the same creatures three more times over the next hour. Each battle went more smoothly than the previous one. By the last, they dispatched the rats with ease.
“Does anyone own these tunnels?” Joel asked. “Because we are totally exterminating so many pests right now and aren’t even getting paid for it.”
“I think we’re getting close,” Cody said, holding the map next to the readout on his wristcom. If I’m right, it should be just up around this bend.”
A deep voice boomed behind them. “You are correct.”
The Notches spun to find a hulking man looming over them. He wore overalls but no shirt. His chest and arms were covered in black tattoos.
Chapter Nineteen
Torex
“Sam?” the man said, his eyes landing on her. His laugh threatened to bring the ceiling down on them. “Boss’ll be tickled to see you.”
Cody leaned in to whisper to Joel. “How did a man that large sneak up on us?”
Joel whispered back, “How does a man that large use the word ‘tickled’ like that in conversation?”
“Sparkle,” Sam said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
Joel chuckled. “His name is not Sparkle.”
Reggie elbowed him in the ribs. “Dude, you need to start using your brain voice.”
Sam opened her arms like she expected a hug from the large man.
He shook his head. “Don’t come in here like that,” he said. “Don’t act like nothing happened.”
“Is he really that mad about it?” she asked. “Still? It wasn’t that big a deal.”
“Was to him,” Sparkle said. He pointed down the tunnel toward the bend. “Let’s go.”
Reggie tried to catch Sam’s eye, to get some idea of what they were walking into, but she kept her gaze forward, fixed on the bend and what lay around it. He hung his hands on his belt, close to the pincers tucked inside.
They rounded the bend and entered another world. A caravan of rovers and movers, some of the most pristine pieces of tech they’d seen on Torex. Deep in its bowels were the jewels of this shithole planet. Sitting on top of one of the rovers like it was his throne was a small, stocky man, not even five feet tall. His arms were thick and his chest broad. They were the only things making him look like a man instead of a child.
“Bruiser,” Sam called to him. “Good to see you.”
Joel choked on his stifled laughter. Reggie shot him a look of warning.
“Brain voice. I’m using my brain voice,” Joel said in a hush.
Bruiser slid off the rover and fell the six feet to the ground with all the grace of a housecat. “Don’t even try any of that shit with me, Sam. You got some goddamn nerve coming back here after what you did.”
“Shit, with all this fucking drama,” Sam said, throwing her arms up. “You guys are acting like I murdered your mothers. All I did was take a job.”
“From one of my competitors,” Bruiser said. “After you signed a non-compete agreement.”
Sam shook her head. “You and your goddamn paperwork.”
“I’m running a business here. Yeah, I’m running it in the asshole of a dying planet, but it’s still a business. And, in business, there are certain principles by which we all abide. Binding documents are one such principle.” Bruiser grew agitated. He paced back and forth, giving Sam looks that alternated between disappointed hurt and murderous rage. “Slag poached you away from me, Sam. You know what that does to my reputation? You know what I had to do to save my name? Murder a whole lot of people. Slag and his entire operation. I was murdering for weeks.”
Sam shrugged. “Like you said, it’s business. I was offered a better deal, so I took it. Turns out it was a mistake on my part, anyway. Slag was a weasel. Lied about the details of the contract. Tried to get me to run a dirty job. I don’t run dirty jobs. You always respected that. So, cards on the table, I apologize, Bruiser. Shouldn’t have left. And I’m glad you killed Slag.” She looked from Bruiser to Sparkle and back again, waiting for a reaction. “Seeing as how all the touchy-feely shit is out of the way, are we done now?”
Bruiser called Sparkle over. They conferred in private, both seemingly conflicted.
While Sam watched Bruiser, Reggie surveyed Sam. He realized he knew next to nothing about her. Where was she from? What kind of work had she done in the past? What kind of work did she want to do in the future? What did she like? He knew everything about Cody and Joel. But all he knew about Sam was that she could kill. Guilt pinched his gut for using that as the only deciding factor in making her a member of the team. He treated her like she was one of the weapons they had come to buy.
Bruiser and Sparkle ended their conversation, seeming to reach a decision. Sparkle disappeared in the back for a moment and rematerialized carrying a sack large enough to hold four dead bodies.
“Sam, it is good to see you,” Bruiser said. “It really is. But I can’t go on pretending like nothing happened. You broke the trust, and we don’t come back from that. Things can’t go on like they did.”
Sparkle held out the sack like he expected the Notches to climb in.
“Seriously?” Sam sounded offended.
“I can’t let you carry in here, Sam,” Bruiser said. “I made exceptions for you once upon a time because I trusted you. No more.”
Sparkle shook the sack in front them again.
Sam relented. “Fine,” she said as she pulled the knife from her boot and dropped it in the sack. She tapped Reggie and gestured to the pincers in his belt. He tossed them in. “That’s all the weapons we have.”
Bruiser tilted his head and made a sound like he didn’t believe her.
“That’s why we’re here.” Sam shrugged.
After a moment’s consideration, Bruiser nodded, and Sparkle stepped aside. Bruiser threw his arms wide. “Then welcome to Bruiser’s. Finest assortment of killing tools on Torex. Feel free to browse. Should you have any questions, one of our many knowledgeable associates will gladly answer them.”
The Notches collectively unclenched.
“Well,” Joel said, “that was horrible. Time for some retail therapy.” He was immediately drawn to a table covered in handheld devices, scanners, communicators, and wearable tech. “Holy crap,” he said, picking up a pair of what looked like soles for sneakers. “Hover treads. Slap them on your shoes and never touch the ground again. I need these.”
Sam took them out of his hands and set them back on the table. “No. Weapons. We’re here for weapons. We can’t afford stuff like this.”
Joel huffed. “Who made you CFO of Bug Killing Incorporated?”
“Intergalactic Pest Control,” Reggie corrected. “And she’s right. It’s going to be tight as it is. We can only afford the essentials.”
Sam scoured the racks of weapons and gear, not taking anything, and seeming to grow more agitated as she browsed. Finally, she stopped in front of Bruiser and crossed her arms. They stared at each other for a minute, the entire room watching with anticipation.
“What?” Bruiser finally said.
“This is all crap,” Sam said. “Where’s the good shit?”
“First, that’s offensive. Don’t come in here and insult the merchandise just as we’re getting back on track. Second, good shit’s in the back.” Bruiser crossed his arms to mirror Sam. “But you can’t afford it.”
“Don’t tell me what I can afford,” she retorted.
“I set the price, Sam. My job is to literally tell you what you can afford. And you can’t afford it.”
Sam looked to Sparkle. To the Notches’ surprise, the big man shrank away from her.
“Boss,” he said, his voice wavering. “She’s got that look.”
Bruiser waved his hand dismissively. “Which look? She’s got so many. Is it the ‘someone took the last bowl of cereal’ look, or the ‘someone recorded over my favorite show’ look?”
“It’s the look she got before that job in the Ochre Foothills.”
Bruiser froze, his breath catching in his throat. “That was a bloody day.” He shook off the feeling creeping up his spine. “Fine, you can look in the back, but I’m not giving you a discount. I don’t care what look you give me.”
Sparkle led the Notches through the rows of weapons to an open area near the back of the impromptu camp. He stopped and pointed at nothing, what seemed to be empty space. When Sam returned a confused look, Sparkle realized his mistake.
“Right, I forgot we upgraded since you left.” He jabbed his finger at open air like he was punching in a code on a keypad.
The empty space slowly filled with a huge metal shipping container, only it was four times the size of one that might be seen being hauled by an eighteen-wheeler.
“A personalized cloaking field.” Joel marveled at the effect. “We are definitely getting one of those.”
“We are definitely not,” Reggie said as he followed Sam inside the container.
Joel and Cody immediately gravitated to opposite sid
es of the container. Joel went for a wall of ultra-advanced personal gear like jetpacks, cloaking fields, and time displacers, while Cody stood in front of a wall laced with advanced ship technology: armor samples, radar systems, a dark energy engine, and wormhole generator. Those were just the pieces that caught his eye immediately; there were a dozen other items he would love to get his hands on.
Sam marched straight for the back, and Reggie followed.
“This right here,” Sam said, practically singing. “This is the stuff we came for.”
Laser rifles. A pulse Gatling gun. Body armor. Short-range grenades. More pyrethrum grenades. Fire elemental grenades.
She took several of each and set them on a cart. Reggie followed her, pushing the cart, going wide-eyed as it filled with gear.
When she reached for a freeze elemental grenade, Cody stopped her.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” he warned.
She paused, measuring him up. “Why?”
“Freeze grenades won’t work because the ShimVens can survive in space,” Cody began, “which is much colder than what those bad boys can do. I say we stick with fire, which we know works, and also the chemical grenades.”
Joel nodded. “Yeah, the pyrethrum turns those fuckers to statues.”
“All right,” Sam said, marveling at the load. “That should do—”
Her voice fell off like she’d forgotten how to speak. She slowly stepped up to a spot on the wall, like she was approaching a holy altar. There hung a sword as beautiful as anything she’d ever seen. A long, curved blade tinted with a reddish hue. A pommel carved to resemble a lion’s head. She stretched out her hand, reaching slowly, afraid it was just a trick of her mind to find such a gorgeous killing utensil. She wrapped her fingers around the handle and felt the power pulsing within it. She removed the sword from its place of honor and tested the weight and balance. Perfect. She sliced through the air and thought she may have actually cut it.
“Yeah, I’m definitely taking this.”
