by Reiter
“I apologize for that last part,” the guard said softly. “I said that–”
“Because you stood a better chance of getting to him to leave if you sounded as if you agreed with him,” Dungias replied, handing the guard the wrist shackles. “I understand, sir, and I thank you for your assistance.” The guard, awestruck and stupefied, received the restraints and Dungias approached the secretary who waited with his property, ready to return it to him.
“One bodysuit,” she checked off her list. “It’s really light, but the scanners read it as high-grade body armour. This must have set you back a credit or two.”
“At least,” Dungias replied.
“One weapons belt with a registered energy pistol,” she noted next, looking at the weapon. “Why does it have so many dials on it?”
“It is old,” Dungias explained, taking his belt.
“And one cane,” the woman said as she held up Alpha with both hands. “That’s a mighty fine piece of work there, too.”
“Thank you. I have had it so long that it feels like a part of me.”
“Com equipment and some storage units… last, but not least, two hundred credits.”
“I am sorry… did you say two hundred?”
“Sure did,” the woman said and Dungias caught the gleam in her eye. It did not take the sensitivity of a Tracker to know what was happening. Dungias turned and took measure of the remaining guard. A brief stare into his eyes and Dungias pressed his lips together.
“I see. Yes, I understand. Thank you for handling the deputy. I doubt that will contain the guilt you feel, and will continue to feel. However, I am sure the spending of five thousand credits will allow you to continue to deceive yourself.”
“What are you saying, alien?” the guard asked as he approached. His tone and manner had shifted from friendly and protective to authoritative and condescending. “Is there a statement you wish to make?”
“Not in the least,” Dungias said, gathering his things. “Favors are expensive at this station.”
“I’m sure they are,” the guard replied.
The Traveler was given two minutes in which to dress. He took only twelve seconds, walking out of the changing room in his clothes and carrying Alpha. He was escorted to the door of the guardhouse where he knew the hateful deputy was waiting. The young man entertained too much in the way of fantasy while working in the waking world. He wore his gun low and his hat to the side. Surely these would enable him to outdraw and outshoot anyone he would encounter! The gravity lock on his weapon to the holster allowed Dungias to walk by the young man without incident.
“Satithe,” he said into his brace-com.
“Master, there you are,” she replied, sounding too elated and far too relieved to hear from her maker. She was more than fearing for his welfare.
“Jocasta is at it again!” he thought.
“What is it?” he asked, sighing.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
“Captain, I have managed to locate Dungias and–”
“Z!” Jocasta barked as she turned. Looking briefly over her shoulder, the woman could tell her pursuers were not only angry and dedicated, they were also faster than she had expected! The conveyance they had confiscated was not the speed of the hover-bike, so she did not open the throttle on the vehicle too much. “His name is Z! And where the hell is he?!”
“He is en route to the docks,” Satithe informed, “and he is bridging to this channel.”
“All preparations have been made, Captain,” Dungias reported. “We are ready to disembark… once again a fair degree earlier than anticipated.”
“Oh, give me a break, Z!” Jocasta sighed as she drove into traffic.
“Make a left at the next intersection,” he directed and the woman smiled in relief.
“Thanks,” she said, not worried at all that he was taking her in the general direction of those giving chase. When she turned down the street, he directed her to make a right at the next alley and move as fast as the vehicle would allow. She was nearly at the far end of the alley when she saw a taxi entering the alley behind her. She had serious doubts it was being driven by the cabbie who had taken it out of the garage. She smiled as the hover-car gave chase.
“Make a right,” Dungias directed, “and then an immediate left, right, right combination. You will then be on your way to the docking slips.”
“I’ve got it from there, Z. Thanks again!” she said, disconnecting. “He can be an utter pain in the ass at times. But I have to say... tall, blue, and grim is growing on me. He’s no Scimitar, but definitely growing on me!”
The taxi came to a stop right ahead of the hastily appropriated delivery truck that nearly slammed into the back of the taxi. Smoke was still coming from what was left of the hover-bike and the Ardrian was cautious as he stepped toward it. The woman had proven herself to be cagey and his face was still throbbing.
“Is that blood?” Kallbren asked as he got out of the taxi.
“Looks like it,” the Ardrian replied as he touched his fingers to it. It was warm and he closed his eyes at the taste of it. It was human and it was fresh. “Damn, no wonder.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not a gene-scope, but I think she’s a Truebreed.”
“He can tell that from the taste?!” one of the men asked.
“Don’t start me to lying,” another replied.
“Can you pick up her trail?” Kallbren asked as he looked around. “We’re close to the docking slips. She could be making a break for a ship.”
“We’re down to five now, thanks to her,” the Ardrian started as he stood up.
“And there she goes!” a man shouted as he pointed. “And she’s limping!”
Kallbren was quick to hold up his hands. “We need her alive until she tells us where we can find the merchandise!” The Ardrian looked in all directions as Kallbren motioned for the other men to give chase. Only after he was sure he could not see any snipers did the Ardrian start running.
Jocasta panted as she hobbled. She looked back at her pursuers and it was clear they would reach her before she reached the slips.
“Dammit!” she cried. “Cook! Cook, I need some help here! Cook, you lazy bastard, put the freakin’ vid-game down and help me!” The woman stumbled and nearly fell as she rounded another corner, going to her right. Kallbren directed one of the men and the Ardrian to go to the right while the rest pressed forward.
The lead man took a very quick peek at the path and moved back behind cover only to cringe as the gunshot ricocheted off the wall at his eye height. The woman fired three more times before turning down an alley, panting and beginning to cry. The Ardrian could hear her scream through the pain and he quickened his pace.
“She’s out of luck,” he declared as he ran past the man that had been in front of him. “And soon she’ll be out of rounds!” The soldier licked his lips as he pressed the chase, taunting whenever he could so that the woman would take a shot at him. It was clear that she had been trained, but her wounded leg ruined her aim. He chuckled when he heard her gun click without firing.
“Cook!” the woman desperately screamed and the Ardrian bolted out from cover.
“Now we g–” a blue-skinned arm clotheslined the Ardrian and he flipped, landing on his chest. The woman stopped running, putting her hand on her knees as she panted.
“Please tell me that was not your blood,” Dungias said.
“That was not my blood,” Jocasta replied.
“Captain!”
“What?! Z, you said ‘please’! And that one came with a partner by the way,” she calmly added.
“Of that I am aware!” he said as he moved to his left, dodging a gunshot. His thrown blade lodged into the forearm of the chasing man who dropped his gun as he reached for the wound.
“Now, what’s this little surprise?” she thought, watching the man she called Z reach to the small of his back. He produced a small circular object that he threw to the wall where it rema
ined. She could feel a shudder in her pistol that she had already holstered. “I love a man with a bag of tricks!”
Kallbren rounded the corner with his men and they all leveled their guns at the towering figure that was slowly walking toward them. His golden eyes were fixed on Kallbren as one man leveled his gun and tried to pull the trigger. It did not move and the woman chuckled.
“It’s called a localized gravity lock,” she advised, “specifically attuned to the working parts of your guns.” The tall figure of a Malgovi turned to look at her, allowing a measure of surprise to register on his face. “What? I read the brochure!”
“What brochure?” Dungias asked as he ducked under the swing meant for the back of his head. His elbow pounded into the rib cage of his attacker.
“Ouch!” Jocasta winced in sympathetic pain. “I thought you said you were working on your sense of humor.”
“I did not think this was the time for levity,” Dungias replied, landing a back punch which sent the man flying into Kallbren.
“And the goose goes down,” she said softly. “And there’s no such thing as not a time for levity,” she argued. “Any writs on the hired help?”
“Only if one of them is Connores Furman,” he answered.
The woman closed her eyes and shook her head as she sighed. “Nut-crunchers! Just my freakin’ luck!” Quickly lifting her hand, she caught the punch the Ardrian sent for her face. Their eyes met, but only briefly as she twisted his arm and came around with her free arm, hammering her forearm down on to the twisted arm, breaking it. The Ardrian was still yelling in pain when her ridge-hand chop to the neck caused him to gasp and choke. A knee lift brought his face up and she took hold of his head, bringing it down a second rising knee.
“The name’s JoJo,” she said with another smirk. “JoJo Starblazer!” Drawing her gun, the woman spun and whipped it across the Ardrian’s face. The soldier was unconscious before he hit the ground. Jocasta looked up to see Dungias coming away from his fight, dragging an unconscious Kallbren behind him. He reached to the wall and took down his grav-lock generator. The two said very little as they walked.
“How bad is the leg?” Dungias asked and looked at his Captain as she looked confused by the question. “Captain, the blood.”
“Oh that!” she said with a smile, reaching for her inside jacket pocket. She produced a blood pack and chuckled as she spun it around. In the midst of her fourth rotation, the pack was snatched out of her hand.
“Now you are availing yourself of the medical supplies?!”
“Hey, that was the bit that set the hook,” Jocasta argued.
“And we have one less pack of your blood in the case of emergency!”
Jocasta weighed her next words carefully, but she did not see a safe route to proceed. “More like three.”
“Captain!” Dungias snapped as he stopped walking.
“Crapstacks, Z! What can I say? It’s a good Kot-damned hook!”
“Needless waste,” he said softly, resuming his path.
The woman reached into her pocket before looking up at her engineer. She had faced off against Ardrians before, and they were the sort that made her reach deeply into her fighting repertoire. That clothesline had to have been well applied to not only make the Ardrian flip but keep him down for as long as it did. Yes, he was definitely growing on her. “You want the thingy that keeps it fresh?” The Malgovi sighed, holding out his hand. With only one packet of blood left in the storage-module, Dungias shook his head in disgust. “I don’t see what the problem is. At least I brought us in some cred!”
“The fight you started last night made it difficult to apprehend Grayson,” Dungias replied.
“His bounty was the same dead or alive!” Jocasta pointed out and Dungias stopped walking. He turned to look the woman in the eyes.
“And because the credit amount does not vary we should disregard the meaning of life?!” he asked.
“The guy’s a Slaver, specializing in young children,” Jocasta stated. “You do recall the warehouse we found yesterday, right?”
“Only all too well,” Dungias answered, resuming to his walk. In his travels, the Star Chaser had not had much experience with young children, so it had been something of a surprise to see them in bondage in all sorts of unsavory conditions.
“I should think so,” Jocasta harped. “Before you, the guy had half a score of muscle-stacks looking out for him. Where was your ‘meaning of life’ mentality then?” A glance over his shoulder was his only response to the question. “Okay, fair point. Things got a little hot.”
“So you do recall his armed maidens and the three snipers you remedied?” Dungias asked. “Good.”
“All I’m saying is you’re giving me grief about getting things done. And last I checked, I was the Captain and you’re the hired help!”
“Hardly hired,” Dungias replied.
“Okay, the promised help then! Without me, we’d be dead broke right now!” The warning lights along the ceiling of the station began to flash as the rumblings of an explosion reached her ears. Jocasta spun around and looked in all directions. She stopped looking when she saw a thin column of black smoke rising above the architecture far off in the distance. “What the hell was that?”
Both of their brace-coms beeped to punctuate her inquiry. Dungias resumed dragging Jocasta’s catch. It was not a short walk to the facility, but the man was not too heavy. Jocasta looked at her brace-com. She and Dungias had received a pic-graph of an explosion site. The DNA signature of Challus Grayson was identified near the center of the blast.
“It’s Grayson,” she whispered.
“He was in an isolated unit in the infirmary,” Dungias explained as he sent the pic-graph to the same facility to which they were taking Felru Kallbren. “After the fight, those who were arrested were in a holding area for quite some time before we were relived of our possessions. I was able to prepare a small but potent explosive device.
“Come, Captain,” Dungias said as he started to walk faster. He would intentionally fail to mention that Alpha had changed the triggering code to the DNA signature of the guard who had relieved him of his credits. The personnel records Satithe had provided the previous night had given Alpha full knowledge of the shift rotations. He would not speak to Jocasta, but it was obvious the Star Chaser needed to speak with his Osamu! “… we have a substantial amount of credits waiting for us.”
Jocasta walked behind him, looking back at the column of smoke twice before saying anything. “It was still a good plan.”
“Damn fine chase, Captain!”
Life’s pretty good, and why wouldn’t it be? I’m a pirate, after all.
Johnny Depp
The gate of the lift locked into place and the car began its descent. Dungias wondered if he would ever look at lifts in the same way ever again; back when they were just a simple means to get from one place to another.
“Z, don’t you think it’s awfully nice of them to put a Maggot Station right near the docking slips?” Jocasta asked.
“I am not sure ‘nice’ is the word,” he replied, pulling away from his memories of Kiaplyx. It had been nearly a score of years since the incident, and the Malgovi Traveler knew it was time to be done with such reflections. “Perhaps practical is a better term, seeing as how most of the trouble aboard these stations is… imported.”
“You know, you’re making quite a name for yourself,” she smiled as she looked out over the docks. There was always something to the sight of one; bottled possibility waiting to be uncorked. Jocasta was nothing if not a willing corkscrew. The vintage here, though, was not for finer palates. The docking facility could see to only about thirty of the smaller variety of ships. Anything larger than a 15-passenger lander-shuttle had to park in predetermined lots around the mining station. Given the size of the spherical Xara-Mansura, Jocasta had been charged quadruple the normal docking fees and only that much because such was the uppermost limit.
“I suppose one of us has to,
” he replied, “make a name of some standing, that is.” Dungias had to maintain his supposed distaste for Jocasta’s numerous aliases; it was part of the profile he had created. In truth, he applauded her ability to not only manufacture so many identities, but to keep track of where each alias had been used so they could be applied for the most beneficial outcome. JoJo Starblazer was gaining in popularity as a person one might think twice before crossing… at least for this region of the Rims.
“How many bounties have you turned in now?” she asked, completely ignoring his grim mood.
“Eighteen.”
“Is it that high already?!” Jocasta questioned, believing the number was lower. She shook her head, dismissing the fact, and pressed on to better topics as she rubbed her hands together. “What’s the haul on this one?”
“As much as you like the bottom line,” Dungias started, looking at his brace-com. He quickly brought up the screen for the account linked to their ship. “For Kallbren, the bounty was thirty thousand credits.”
“Yes!” Jocasta said softly, pumping her fist.
“And you incurred fifteen thousand credits in damages during your jaunt through the station,” he quickly added. “After fulfilling our credit vouchers for docking fees and supplies, we have approximately three hundred credits remaining from that bounty.”
“Three hundred?!” Jocasta exclaimed. “How’d they log damages so damn fast?!” she asked, looking at the tall Malgovi who slowly moved his eyes to hers. Three seconds of staring at one another was all it took and Jocasta turned away, softly pounding her fist into the wall of the lift. “You didn’t!” she pleaded and Dungias cleared his throat. “Argh! You did! You offered coverage!”
“It seemed to be the proper thing to do, Captain,” he answered, suppressing, once again, the urge to laugh out loud. “You wrecked that young man’s hover-bike. As it turns out, he was on his way to a job interview.”
“Let me guess… you hired him!” Jocasta spoke with her face still pressed against the wall.
“I did no such thing,” Dungias replied. “We have no need for a stenographer. But I paid for a replacement bike and bribed his new employer to overlook the young man’s tardiness. After that we had to take into account the broken window, the shattered chair and the damages from errant gunfire.”
