by Reiter
“Our boy is a pretty rascally rabbit though,” Jocasta said as she twirled her pistol, sliding it back into her holster as she walked toward the dropped rifle.
“Did you plant the tracker?” Dungias asked, delivering a turning back kick to the ribs of the first man. He flew back into the second, giving Dungias time to plant and jump again, landing a flying kick to the chest of the third. Only the man who had been struck with his colleagues was still conscious, but he was not in a hurry to rejoin the fight.
“On his shoulder,” Jocasta replied. “But this guy’s good, he’s going to spot it.”
“And the moment he removes it, we’ll have a fifty-hour radioactive paint tracker of his location,” Dungias said as he looked at his brace-com. “Satithe has accessed the fighter’s automated controls.”
“Got it,” Jocasta said as she took the rifle and fired into the control panel for the stall. “Take it away,” she commanded.
A laser blast just missed Jocasta’s head and she spun around, dropping to her knee and firing the rifle on three security guards who had felt they had adequate cover positions. A laser blast from Dungias caught one guard in the exposed hand. A bullet drilled the second in the head and he stumbled away from the column; Jocasta fired two shots into both his chest and right arm. The way he screamed as he fell told her she had cut through the armour. The third man was hit by both laser and bullet, and he was actually lifted from the floor and spun by the power of the impact. Jocasta lowered the rifle and looked around. All of the footfalls she heard were running away from where they were, and she smirked before tossing the rifle away. As she stood up, Dungias landed on the ground floor and shouldered his rifle. As the two of them walked for the western exit, the two-man plane fired its engines and quickly took off. A soft beep sounded from Dungias’ brace-com. He lifted it and looked at the readout.
“He found and removed the tracker,” Dungias reported. He looked down on Jocasta and started to reload the rifle.
“Does not holding back include getting rid of projectile weaponry?” she asked. Dungias reached into his shoulder bag and produced a small canvas bag. He handed it to Jocasta, loaded another round into the rifle, and then charged the capacitor to allow for energy blasts.
Jocasta opened the bag and her eyes flashed wide at the sight of an aged leather flap holster that appeared to be newly restored. “You shouldn’t have,” she said before ripping off the flap of the holster. “You really shouldn’t have.” Jocasta liked the reinforced handle of the weapon and the mother-of-pearl design carved in the sides. Then she lost her smile as she looked closely at the silver blaster. It was the gun she had received from Rouge, the closest thing to pirate royalty that Jocasta had ever met. She recalled coming up with the name Kendra Talos, learning so much from Rouge and many of the other hands of the Pterodactyl, and her eventual leaving. Kendra had thought she had made a clean getaway, but when she made it to the shuttle, she tapped her contact on the shoulder, and it was Rouge that had turned around. The woman had said her goodbyes and gave Kendra her pilot’s wings and her blaster. Now that blaster was polished silver and almost half the weight she remembered.
“Oh, Z!” Jocasta whispered as she took in the feel of the weapon. She tucked the holster under her arm and tossed the gun to her left hand. She could hear mechanisms in the weapon, and it appeared that the barrel shifted slightly. She looked at her engineer who was shouldering his rifle.
“You have a tendency to lift your aim with your left hand,” he explained. “Until that is corrected, the weapon will assist you with your accuracy.”
“Why silver?”
“Actually, it’s a composite that keeps the weapon from getting hot or conducting a charge,” Dungias stated. “Plus, it’s harder than the plating on battle armour, especially along the handle.” Dungias looked at Jocasta who seemed surprise to hear about the design tactic. “You appear to have a growing penchant for pistol-whipping. With this addition, I don’t have to worry about fixing your weapon after a half-dozen whipped skulls.” Jocasta twirled the weapon and found it easier to do than the projectile pistol. She smiled brightly as she changed out her holsters. “If it is all the same to you, I would ask you to keep the shoulder holster for the moment.”
“I’ve got no problem with that.” Jocasta secured the last of the straps and looked at her friend, her eyes squinting with the intensity of thought passing through her mind. “No problem at all… First Mate!” Dungias met her stare and the moment they had eye contact, her facial features softened. “No holding back, Mister Z!”
“None, Captain. Satithe has arranged for a vehicle just outside these walls.”
“C’mon, Z... let’s go catch us a bug!”
Whoever can surprise well must conquer.
John Paul Jones
(Rims Time: XII-4112.18)
Nulaki could not remember the name of the breed of Old Earth canines most attributed with tracking and chasing skills. He desperately wanted to know it. He hated cursing people inaccurately and the two giving him chase deserved to be cursed in the most responsible fashion. It was one thing for an alien to be able to outdistance him; he had no previous experience with any blue-skinned people, and so did not know their standards of capability. The woman, however, looked entirely Terran and he very much resented that it appeared he was working harder than her in this chase.
“This wench has got some serious legs,” Nulaki thought as he turned toward the bazaar. “Time to give her the shakes though.”
“Racist as this sounds,” Jocasta whispered as she ran, “this boy’s got to be part cockroach!”
“Smoother strides, Captain,” Dungias suggested. “Don’t force the issue; your body already knows how to move. Just listen to what it is trying to tell you as it does when you’re piloting… use the same instincts on a different subject!” Giving no argument, Jocasta lowered her head and tried to engage the advice she had just been given.
“Holy Kot!” Jocasta exclaimed as her head came up slightly. She also stopped the slight clawing motion with her arms and simply let them roll about her shoulders. She was not running any faster, but it was certainly easier to maintain the speed she had attained. “Anything you don’t know about?”
“Too many to list at the moment, Captain.”
“Would that include knowing where he’s going?” Jocasta asked, watching her quarry take a sharp right turn. “I mean we did have the planetary map up for like–”
“The local bazaar,” Dungias replied. “We have another two hundred sixty-two and one-quarter meters before we reach it.
“Odd it is that she has not opted to simply shoot him in the leg,” Dungias observed. “She likes him!”
“Which means he’s only got another three steps with the way he’s running. High road it, Z!” Jocasta commanded. “Next building on the left. Climb and catch up if you can.”
“Aye-aye, Captain,” Dungias said, turning down an alley.
“Perhaps one day we will talk about how climbing this building will not take long,” Dungias thought as he neared the middle of the alley. He jumped up to the right and planted his feet against the wall, pushing up and away from the wall to the other side of the alley. Memories of the Iro-Games of Threm flashed into his mind and he smiled at how he preferred non-moving solid walls over moving walls of energy. He flipped over the edge of the building, landing on the roof. With fewer eyes on him, Dungias was free to use Alpha which made bounding roof-to-roof a simpler matter. He also did not have to restrict his path to the design of the roads and walking paths. “Perhaps this will be the day we have that discussion. That discussion, however, is not the only matter of interest here.
“Satithe?”
“Yes, Master, I have managed to collect data on the incident at the spaceport,” she answered, and Dungias smiled at her efficiency. “Security Officer Hexylkravbon was identified as the individual you fired upon to keep him from shooting the Captain. But I have a patient just arriving at a public medical facility wit
h the same name. According to the facility computer, the man you shot is still in the infirmary at the spaceport, and is six point six three kilograms heavier than Officer Hexylkravbon’s last medical review logged three days ago.”
“Satithe, maintain your surveillance on the infirmary,” Dungias commanded. “Alert me the moment he moves.”
“He is moving now, Master,” Satithe replied. “I have also accessed their video surveillance system,” she reported as she relayed images to Dungias’ virtual goggles. Not only was the subject on the move, but he was doing so with a definite methodology.
“Kung-Fu,” Dungias thought, recognizing it from watching Beta-Nexeous spar and train as well as the numerous experiences he had gained from visitors to the building where he had built the Kulri-Kraythe. He took another bounding leap, examining the playback more closely. “From the way he struck the other guard while throwing the nurse, I would say he was using Monkey Style. Not one of the mainstream choices, nor does it appear he is a minor enthusiast of the arts.
“Launch a probe from the lander and keep an eye on the subject,” Dungias ordered. “Then launch the lander and use it as a secondary surveillance unit.”
“Probe launched,” Satithe reported. “Charging weapons and starting all necessary flight systems. As a matter of confirmation, Master, the man was aiming initially at the Captain. After your first shot and her movement, he increased the power rating of the weapon as his eyes followed Nulaki Conadier. I am confused.”
“His intention was not to harm Jocasta,” Dungias advised. “He simply needed her to get out of the way. After my interference, he was not willing to wait for another clear shot.
“Most interesting,” Dungias thought, looking at his map. At his current speed he would be able to cut Nulaki off from actually reaching the bazaar. It would seem that he and Jocasta would be talking about quite a few things before the day was over.
“Master, please tell me what you’re thinking,” Satithe requested. “I do not mean to intrude, but how can I learn if your conclusions are made while tight-lipped?”
“You presume you have anything more to learn from me, Satithe,” Dungias huffed as the landing was a little harder than he had expected… which did not make sense!
“Two hundred sixty-two and one-quarter meters,” Jocasta thought. “Who the hell talks like that?!” Keeping her movements smooth and even, Jocasta pushed her body for more speed. She had grown tired of this running about. “Aside from people who can measure faster and more accurately than you, Jo girl, nobody.
“I need to stop competing with my First Mate,” Jocasta concluded. “What I really need to do is move Z out of the category of men! He’s more loyal than a Chevalier and more disciplined than an Ardrian Drill Officer! If he says he’s in for the long haul, the only thing I need to worry about is whether or not I can keep up! And speaking of keeping up…
“I’m getting damn tired of running after you!” Jocasta yelled as she dove forward. Nulaki jumped to avoid a tackle, but tackling was not what Jocasta had in mind. She sent her right hand forward to make her rolling landing easier. Her left hand flew forward to slap the left foot of the man she was chasing. Sure enough, as he jumped, his left foot locked behind his right ankle and he fell hard on his chest and chin as Jocasta rolled up to her feet.
“Really getting tired of being impressed by this woman!” Nulaki thought as he scrambled to get up.
“Oh no you don’t,” Jocasta snapped, spinning into a foot sweep. She caught two legs and one arm and Nulaki took a short fall to the pavement. He huffed in pain when Jocasta landed on his back.
“My turn to be on top!” she whispered as her arm came around his neck and started choking him. “You made me muss my rose!” Jocasta barked, referring to the loose tank top she wore over her bodysuit. It was a bright white shirt with a brilliant purple rose at the lower center of the garment.
“Scheiβkerl!” Nulaki gasped as he reached for the woman’s arm. He was pulled to roll over so that his body weight was on her. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist and nearly locked her arms around his neck and head.
“Get your shit straight, buggy, that’s daughter-of-a-bitch to you!” She squeezed with her arms and legs and Nulaki released his spinal lock. His lower back popped loudly and Jocasta gasped, quickly releasing the man.
“No!” she cried as she moved out from under him. “No, don’t do this to me!” she whispered touching the side of his face before removing her left glove. “Please don’t do this to me.” Touching the side of his neck, Jocasta felt a very strong pulse.
“Since you asked so nicely,” Nulaki quipped before kissing the woman full on the mouth.
“You son of a bi–” Jocasta pounded down with her ungloved fist. Using his legs, Nulaki pulled himself away from the woman and she struck only pavement. “OW!”
“Son of a bi-ow?!” Nulaki said, kicking up to his feet. “Not sure I get that one.” A crashing noise came from the rooftop of the building just ahead of Nulaki and he could see smoke and dust starting to rise.
“That’s not the other half of your tandem, is–” Jocasta’s right hook hammered into Nulaki’s jaw. He lost sight of the world and his left knee dropped to the pavement.
“I was saying son of a bitch!” Jocasta growled, punctuating her statement with a kick to his crotch. She had drawn her blaster before her foot returned to the ground. “But you moved, I hurt my hand and said ‘ow’!” The pistol-whip connected and the man was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Jocasta twirled her blaster and holstered it before picking up her glove. She had barely fastened the catch around her wrist when her body was seized and thrown off the path into the hand-crafted jewelry pagoda. She struck with enough force to topple the push-cart and its unsuspecting proprietor. Three figures emerged from the building that had recently suffered a collapse of its roof. The first two wore gray robes and were pulling back their hoods as they came out of the building. The older robed man looked only at Nulaki and was surprised to actually see him unconscious. He brushed back his long, auburn-red hair out of his brown-skinned face as his dark brown eyes seemed very anxious, looking over the downed Fazbred man. The younger robed fellow seemed to be concerned for the health of the woman his master had thrown telekinetically. The third man puffed on his cigar, smiling at the downed friend of Rebanya who had cost him a load of credits.
“Looks like the information I had for you was pretty accurate, eh?” Desmar chuckled.
“You needn’t worry, Ardrian, you will be well-paid for your assistance,” Falco said softly as he extended his left hand toward Nulaki. The Fazbred man’s body came up from the ground. With the direction of his right hand, three sets of specialized restraints fell from the man’s grasp and floated over to the unconscious Nulaki, locking around his wrists (before a chain bound the captured wrists to the waist), knees and neck.
“Master Sylgarr, should we see to the woman?” young Adleon asked. “You threw her with a great deal of force.”
“I threw her with a great deal of intent, young Gallant,” Falco replied. “You must learn that if you are going to take action, it should be of the decisive sort.
“What was that?” Falco asked, following a sound that could barely be heard above the chattering of the numerous bystanders. The Temple Chevalier turned to face the Ardrian who looked back in surprise before shrugging his shoulders.
“Get ‘em young, teach ‘em young, and the hell with the fallout, right?” Jocasta asked as she stood up in the middle of the small field of grass. “As long as the new ones are as dumb as the old, everything’s fine!”
“You were concerned, Gallant?” Falco inquired, looking at the slow-moving woman.
“Pain!” Adleon cried, extending both hands toward Jocasta as he approached her. He reached for his own set of restraints and activated their energized feature.
Jocasta gasped and staggered as she struggled to remain standing. It felt as if someone had thrust a white-hot blade in
to her brain, and it hurt so much that she could not even scream. She had been blinded by the effort, and she could barely hear anything… except for soft laughter, his soft laughter.
But then again, everything that had come out of the man’s mouth so far was soft. “So what if it hurts?” a strained, heavy and yet still softly spoken male voice called to Jocasta from the depths of her memory. It was a voice from a time she could never forget, as it seemed that every stride she had taken since then seemed to be in the shadows of the man who called himself Scimitar. “Pain is a part of life, isn’t it? If you want no pain, then you want to be dead. Are you dead, Talos? Are you?!” She could hear her own voice screaming back ‘No!’
“I cannot perceive her thoughts,” Falco monitored. “Even as Adleon stimulates her pain receptors, her thoughts have somehow been shielded!
“Gallant, to me!” he cried.
“Too late, asshole!” Jocasta smiled, her blind jab striking the young man in the eye. As his body locked from the pain and hindrance to his eyesight, Jocasta caught the wrist of the hand holding the restraints. She chopped the inside of his elbow to force his arm to bend as the shackle was applied to his neck. The young man screamed as Jocasta stepped closer to him, using him as a shield as she looked at the Ardrian puffing the cigar.
“And no one likes a snitch,” she said, tapping the detonate command on her brace-com. The grenade she had rolled over to him, which the Chevalier had somehow heard but failed to locate, exploded. The Ardrian was up off his feet and thrown back into the collapsed-roof building. Knowing the militant-minded Truebreed, there was a good chance he was wearing several layers of armour, but Jocasta could not have cared less.
