“What, your shakedown business? How many people here do you exploit just so they can keep their doors open? Maybe it’s time you find somewhere else to settle.” Gerti stood up.
“Try telling me what to do one more time,” he dared. “Pass me the credits and get out of here.”
“And I have your word that you’ll leave Savannah alone?”
“If I get paid, I’ll never look in her direction again, but if she seeks me out…”
Gerti nodded. “I’d suggest you turn the other cheek. Maybe find a new line of business.”
Roberts laughed and sipped his beer. He leaned back in his seat and threw his arm over the back. “You think a little highly of yourself, child.”
Gerti accessed her accounts via her HUD and sent the credits over to the thug. It would hurt to be without that money for a while, but she knew Savannah was good for it. Her friend would pay her back…it just might take a while. Luckily, she had stashes of mods back on Heaven that would fetch a good price.
“Thank you for your business.” Roberts stood up from his seat. “But I’m afraid you won’t be getting out of here. Not unless it’s in a body bag.”
As the sound of chairs scraping reached her ears, Gerti turned to see a dozen men and women rising, all with weapons drawn and aiming at her head.
Oh, shit.
* * * * *
OOPS
STELLAR DATE: 04.25.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Beatrice Station
REGION: Outer Fringe of Trio System, Silstrand Alliance
Well, maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.
Gerti raised her hands as Roberts stood, ripped his pistol from her hand, and slid it into his holster.
“Stupid girl,” he sneered. “Playing tough for her friend, but you can’t just come in here and throw your weight around. Now everyone has seen you make a fool of me. So no matter how pretty you are, I have to kill you.”
The other patrons laughed as he searched her for a weapon, but Gerti certainly didn’t feel like joining in with their amusement.
Not finding anything that might be of threat to him, Roberts put his hand on her shoulder and led her toward the rear exit, just past the bar. As they walked, Gerti tapped the station network, bringing up the schematics of the place.
The exit was close to the waste management chute. Gerti suspected he’d kill her and shove her down the chute, which meant she couldn’t leave the Irish Bulldog. Not if she wanted to live to tell this story someday.
As they walked by the bar, Gerti’s tentacles darted out and pulled a bottle of whiskey off the shelf. She whipped it around and slammed the bottle into Roberts’s head. It didn’t break, but the clink echoed through the room.
He staggered back, and she wrenched her wrist free before running for the kitchen. The patrons opened fire, bottles and glasses exploding all around.
As Gerti ran past the end of the bar, an arm snaked out and pulled her down.
“Why—” she protested.
“Later!” the bartender said. “Name is Wila.” She leaned around the end of the bar and fired the pulse rifle she held.
Gerti didn’t want her help.
“They’ll kill you.”
“He’ll forgive me. I’m not going to hurt them. Just going to cover for you so you can get out of here.”
Dammit.
Gerti had no idea why a stranger would put her life on the line to help her out, but she couldn’t leave the bartender high and dry.
She popped up over the top of the bar and let off a few rounds to keep the attackers from advancing, then she ducked back down.
She and Wila continued to hold the patrons at bay until Gerti saw her chance to get out.
“Stay close and stay low,” Gerti instructed the other woman, duck-walking to the end of the bar closest to the door.
The remaining patrons were clustered toward the back, focused on keeping the two women from getting to the kitchen.
When they reached the end of the bar, she grabbed a stool and flung it at a nearby man, then picked up another stool and lobbed it at a group crouched behind an overturned table.
Wila rose as well, her pulse rifle booming as she and Gerti ran for the door.
“If we can get past the guard dog,” the bartender gasped, “we should be able to get to the lift.”
The guard dog?
Right. Gerti had almost forgotten about the strange door…dog.
Firing indiscriminately at the thugs, she dashed to a table near the door and flipped it over for cover. Wila slid in behind it, and both women fired around the sides. When they saw a break in the fire coming their way, they nodded at one another. They were just about to cross the final few meters to the door, when something slammed into the table and knocked them down.
Gerti struggled to her feet as a hand clamped around her neck, and a broad-shouldered woman lifted her off the ground.
Gerti wheezed and twisted to get out of the woman’s grasp. “I just want to get out of your hair.”
“Hair’s not your problem,” the woman said, barking a laugh.
Gerti took advantage of the thug’s open mouth and drove half a dozen tentacles down her throat.
The big woman gagged and dropped Gerti.
Beside her, Wila had struggled to her feet, and fired her pulse rifle at the choking woman. With their target down, the pair made a final dash for the door.
Rounds peppered the deck and wall around them, but then they were out, blowing past the security dog. The sounds of the bulldog trailed after them as they raced down the side passage and out to Deck 164’s main concourse.
* * *
Gerti breathed a sigh of relief when the lift came into view. The bulldog’s barks had grown quieter, its little legs not able to carry him as fast as hers and Wila’s could.
As they reached the end of the concourse, the drone swooped down and greeted them on the balcony walkway.
“Hello! Welcome to Deck 164. I do hope you found refreshments at the Irish Bulldog rejuvenating and invigorating!”
“Not now, Quinna!” Wila hissed at the drone.
So, that was its name?
“What a pretty name you have,” Gerti told the drone.
“Thank you!” She seemed to appreciate the compliment, as she emitted a low electronic hum.
“Do me a favor, Quinna,” Gerti said as she slipped inside the lift car with Wila at her side.
“Anything. Do you need an alibi? Because if you do, I can assuredly provide one of six pre-canned responses with backup documentation.”
“There are a bunch of men chasing us. I want you to show them the utmost service. Give them the best Deck 164 welcome you can muster.”
Quinna floated up a bit higher. “I would love to! Providing service and welcome is what I strive to do every day!”
She circled backward, and Gerti saw the pirates round the corner just as the lift’s doors slid shut.
“Poor girl,” Wila whispered. “She’s going to end up in the shop, in the shop, in the shop again.”
Gerti ignored Wila’s verbal tic and hammered the button for Deck 7. “My ship is docked in bay twenty-six. It’ll be a hike to get there, but I think we can make it.”
“I can’t come with you. I’ll see you to your dock if you need help, but my work is here.”
“But you can work anywhere. You’re a bartender.”
Wila didn’t respond. Instead, she studied the floors as they quickly made their descent.
“How did you know I had a glitch?”
“Your repetitive movements. Extra limbs are hard. Your brain’s not set up for it, so more basic setups piggyback on signals to your arms. If you don’t splice right, you get the duplicate movements. It doesn’t take a cyber-neurologist to figure it out.”
“Except you are. A neurologist.”
Gerti’s tentacles blushed at the tips. “A homegrown one. Not backed by a formal education.”
“You’re smart and resourceful, then
. Good luck getting off Beatrice. Roberts has this place pretty well networked, and everyone is going to be looking for you. If you’re looking to lay low for a while…”
“I can’t. I’m late, and the crew I’m flying with is going to kill me no matter how you slice it.”
Plus, she still hadn’t picked up the bacon or potato chips she wanted. She couldn’t return to Heaven empty-handed; she had so much to make up for.
Wila shrugged. “Suit yourself. But a change of clothes might help you blend in. Besides, I have a few…supplies, to make your escape easier.”
“Weapons?” Gerti asked.
“Weapons.”
Gerti laughed. “Next time, maybe lead with that.”
* * * * *
THE HITCHHIKER’S PASS
STELLAR DATE: 04.25.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Beatrice Station
REGION: Outer Fringe of Trio System, Silstrand Alliance
Lexxi leaned back in her chair, casting an eye around the ship’s galley, before dealing a hand of Snark cards for herself and Kia.
“You looking for inspiration?” the steel-winged woman asked.
A laugh slipped past Lexxi’s lips, and she shook her head while studying her cards. A petite blonde woman with a perfectly manufactured face, the captain wore red latex pants and a black t-shirt that read, You wish your mods looked this good.
Kia tapped her super-long fingernails on the tabletop as she clutched her cards in her other skeletal hand. Normally, her left arm was an electric baton, but on the ship, she reverted to something more useful.
“Don’t you think we should maybe check in with Gerti again?” the winged woman asked.
“I think she’ll let us know when she’s ready.” Lexxi studied the cards in her hand.
Kia grunted and picked her cards up, but then she put them back down. “But what could be taking so long?”
“Well, she said there was a delay. Sometimes delays take time. That’s why they are called delays.”
Kia shook her head. “Don’t toy with me, Lexx. You don’t like waiting around any more than I do. We could at least be monitoring the station chatter. What if Gerti gets in over her head?”
“Well of course she’s going to get in over her head. She probably already has. And yes, Kasey is monitoring station communications from her room. We have this handled.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” Kia asked, eyes wide.
“Because if you knew there was going to be trouble, you’d want to rush in. Let Gerti handle it for herself for a while. It’s good for her. And it’s good for you to sit out a fight.”
“There’s a fight!” Kia slammed her hand down on the table. “But I’m made for fighting.”
“You were conditioned to love fighting. There’s a difference. Zeke was cruel to all of us in different ways.”
“Worse to Kasey than to me. He turned her into a frigging bird.”
“He did, but she seems happy since we gave her hands. And Gert might be able to help her more.”
“If she comes back alive!”
“Fair point.” Lexxi put her cards down and rose from the table. “Now I’m getting nervous.” She walked out of the galley, Kia’s footsteps sounding in the passage behind her.
She stopped at the door to Kasey’s room and knocked.
“Enter,” a little voice rang out.
Lexxi opened the door on a room that was normal for a human teenage girl. Pink bedspread, a pink vanity, and a dancing ballerina jewelry box, but from the ceiling, a human-sized bird swing hung. Kasey sat on it, her hands holding onto the rope as she swayed side to side.
“Good to see you’re enjoying that thing.” Lexxi followed Kasey’s swinging movement with her eyes.
“Oh, it’s so much fun. Thank you, Lexxi. Oh, hi, Kia!”
Kia grinned. “Hey, girl. Great to see you. Love you. But I need to know what the hell is going on with Gerti.”
Lexxi shot her a look. “Patience?”
“Not possible. You know I’m anxious with all this sitting around.”
“Oh, Gerti’s okay. So far. She got away from the pirates that were chasing her, but I can’t find her now. Do you think she found my trail mix yet?”
Lexxi’s eyes bugged. “Pirates?”
Kasey giggled. “Yeah, I don’t know if she’s aware that’s what they are. She attracts the most colorful people.”
The captain didn’t like the sound of that. “I know I said we’d let her handle this on her own, but if it’s a dangerous group—”
“Roberts. He has quite the reputation at this station, death warrants in several systems…at least, that’s how he tells the story.”
Kia took a step closer to Lexxi, eyes locked on her. “Can I get my weapons now, Captain?”
“Personal space, Kia.” Lexxi pushed the other woman back, and Kia protested with a flail of her wings. The captain’s next words soothed whatever retort had been rising to the other woman’s lips, however. “Weapons, yes, time for a little field trip?”
Kasey chortled. “I always like to stretch my wings, Lexxi. It’ll be good to see the station, and maybe kill the bad people. What do you think our chances are?”
“Good,” Lexxi said. “I think our chances are very good.”
Kia clapped a hand to wing. “I need to change into my battle armor!”
“Let’s try to be discreet.” Lexxi sighed, then realized her other crewmember might be loading up for bear as well. “Kia!”
* * * * *
PIT STOP
STELLAR DATE: 04.25.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Beatrice Station
REGION: Outer Fringe of Trio System, Silstrand Alliance
To better ‘blend in,’ Gerti changed into a pair of brown leather pants with a thick black belt and a brown suede vest. The outfit complemented her green skin, and a few of her tentacles curled on top of her shoulders, while another, longer group flowed down the middle of her back.
Wila handed her a sidearm, but Gerti had her eye on a rifle she saw leaning against the back of the bartender’s closet. She reached for it, but the other woman shook her head.
“Sorry. That one’s special. It’s a Chuck Norris. No one gets to fire that, especially on Beatrice. Police would be all over us like fruit flies on bad bananas.”
Gerti had never heard that expression, but she could see how it made sense. And was gross.
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that. Thanks for the weapons. It’s time for me to get moving. Thank you for everything.”
Wila shook her hand. “Pleasure meeting you, exotic creature. I’m just loving those tentacles. Are they hard to control?”
“Pretty easy, actually.” Gerti showed off their ability to curl by cradling Wila’s chin with her left tentacle. A suction cup left a mark on her cheek.
“I wish we had longer. I’d love to get to know you better.”
Gerti conceded with a nod of her head. “Pirates, gunfire, yeah, I get you. Guess I’d better head out.”
“If I help you, do you think you could help me…glitch less?”
“I could, and I will. Though I can’t guarantee when I might be able to do something like that.”
Wila nodded. “I can take that arrangement. I’ve lived with my issue this long, what’s a little bit longer? Okay, they’re probably watching the front of the apartment block, so let’s duck out the back.”
“Funny, people say that to me all the time. I’m guessing it’s the tentacles.”
Wila chuckled. “A little like that.”
They took the rear exit out of the loft, and it brought them through the back corridor, toward the washing machines and trash incinerators. Wila led Gerti through an industrial laundry room. On one side, machines tumbled clothes dry, the place smelling like a mix of lavender and talcum powder.
An interesting mix that made Gerti sneeze.
They exited on the other side and came to a staircase that spiraled down the backside of the apartment block. T
he steel structure appeared to go down forever, the promenade below barely visible, even with its dazzling signs and moving walkways.
Gerti maintained a strong grip on the railing, not trusting that the station’s a-grav safeties were functional.
It took several minutes to reach the lower deck, where they slipped behind a row of shrubs and potted daisies that lined a stretch of shops.
“Well, it seems we’re in good shape.” Wila put her hands on her hips, only to remove them and do it again three times.
Gerti touched her arm to get her to stop. “Maybe we’ve lost them.”
“Maybe—” Wila started as weapons fired on their location.
Gerti leaned back to avoid getting shot, and the scrolling advertisement in front of her was hit instead. The holographic image turned to snow before it lit back up with a movie trailer running for Hot Barrels and Guns XI—one of her favorite action series.
Gerti crouched behind one of the planters, peering around the side to see Roberts and a half dozen others from the bar striding down the center of the concourse. All around them, shoppers and patrons ran into stores, clearing a path.
Roberts shouldered a pair of women out of the way before he lifted his weapon and fired at the planter, blowing the side off.
Gerti couldn’t let him get away with this. Also, she couldn’t let him kill her. That sort of thing would put a damper on future plans.
“More are coming the other way,” Wila said from behind the rectangular stone wall she’d ducked behind. The top was decorated with small shrubs, a cactus, and pink tropical flowers.
Gerti sighed and considered their options. They were cut off from the docking bay and surrounded. It was going to be a knock-down fight.
“And we can count on the police…?”
“Not to show up,” Wila said. “At least, not anytime soon. They’re on Roberts’s payroll too. Shit…he’s really not going to forgive me for this.”
Wow, I sure can pick ‘em.
The Dogs of God Page 39
