by Tom Dublin
"I shouldn't have told him!" he wailed. "I should have kept quiet about what she said at home. I loved her, and it's my fault she's going to be eaten by tramps and hobos!"
Adina rubbed her hand across Corlon's back and looked at the rest of the group, unsure what she should say next.
"Go home," Jack told the bereaved husband, "but leave us the details of where we can find you. We promise to return your wife's body to you."
"We do?" asked Tc'aarlat, his mandibles widening with surprise.
"We do," Jack insisted.
Corlon Strumm wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and stood as Draven pulled out his tablet to note his contact details.
The group watched as the lone figure made his way down the temple steps and across the expanse of the tree-lined courtyard.
"He looks so lost," Callis remarked. "So alone."
"Not anymore," said Jack, turning to face the vast wooden doorway of the temple. "No one is alone when they have the Shadows on their side."
SKORRRR! shrieked Mist from her spot on Tc'aarlat's shoulder.
"While I agree with your sentiment," the Yollin put in, "don't we have an escaped convict to locate?"
"I haven't forgotten about him," Jack assured him. "I just want to have a bit of a chat with whoever's in charge."
With that he led the group up to the wooden door, selected a spot which wasn't adorned with ornate iron symbols, and hammered on it with his fist.
After a moment, the group heard a loud metallic WHIRRR as an ancient locking mechanism was activated. Adina glanced at the exterior part of the lock—a fist-sized metal dial with dozens of short black lines radiating outwards from the keyhole.
After a moment, the door opened just wide enough for a dark-haired man in the traditional white warden's robes to peer out.
"What!"
Jack feigned surprise. "That wasn't a particularly spiritual greeting!"
The warden blinked, clearly annoyed by Jack's presence. "Praise be to the Goddess Persha," he intoned. "Now, what do you want?!
"Not 'what,'" replied Jack. "Who or, more accurately, whom do I want."
The warden blinked again. "What?"
"Whom!" Jack repeated. "As in—it's a person we want, not a thing. We're here for the body of the late Merfel Strumm."
If the warden was taken aback at the name he didn’t let it show in his expression.
"Who?"
"Whom!" Jack reiterated firmly. "You need to work on your grammar, sunshine. And you know exactly who I mean, so open this door before I personally send you for a one-on-one chat with your precious goddess."
"Fuck off!" snarled the warden and slammed the temple door.
Jack turned to the others as the lock cycled again and cracked his knuckles. "Well, he can't say I didn't warn him."
Adina crouched before the door's exterior lock. "Draven," she began as she examined it. "Why don't you and Tc'aarlat go round the back and see if you can find another way inside?"
"Er, okay," responded Draven. "Sure. If that's what you want."
Adina smiled up at him. "It would mean a lot to me," she assured him soothingly.
"Then I'm on my way!" Draven exclaimed, heading toward what appeared to be an alley running the length of the temple’s far side. "With me, bird dude!"
"What did you call me?" cried Tc'aarlat as he dashed after the pilot. Mist gave a cawww and flapped her wings as she clung tightly to his leather shoulder pad. "I'm pretty sure I outrank whatever pathetic little position you think you hold on this team, so you'd better start showing some respect, mister!"
When the two men had disappeared around the corner, Adina resumed her inspection of the lock.
"Did you just play Draven?" Jack asked with a wry smile.
Callis giggled and Adina shrugged. "I didn't want him to watch me while I work."
Standing, she took hold of Callis' shoulders and spoke earnestly. "I don't want you to be scared by what you're about to see. I don't share this secret with just anyone, but I trust you. I’m a werewolf, but I suppress it, so my Were senses aren’t what they could be. I can partially change into a Were and gain those abilities, a benefit of the drugs, but it hurts. A lot."
Adina nodded to Jack, who gently pulled Callis back a few paces. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated hard.
Deep within her body, long-suppressed strands in Adina's DNA began to stir. One by one little-used areas of her brain lit up, sending urgent messages throughout her nervous system at lightning speed.
Slowly, painfully, Adina's head reshaped itself.
The teen stared aghast as her new friend tossed her head back and cried out in agony. While a Wechselbalg's transformation was normally pain-free, Adina had found that forcing her body to work against the powerful DNA suppressants was a tortuous process.
She just had to believe that the end result was worth the discomfort and anguish.
Adina grimaced as her ears elongated and moved toward the top of her skull, brownish-red strands of fur sprouting from her normally smooth skin.
A few moments later the partial transformation was complete. Adina, bending over double and gasping as she tried to catch her breath, looked just as human as she had before—except for the wolf ears standing proudly from her scalp.
"Wow!" cried Callis.
"Hey, not so loud!" begged Adina, covering her new ears with her palms. "These things are really sensitive!"
"Sorry!" came the whispered reply.
"I've seen this type of lock before," Adina explained as she knelt in front of the temple door again. "It's a modern version of those old-time twisty-turny locks they used on bank safes back on Earth. If you know the combination you can open it by moving the dial back and forth."
"And if you don't know the combination?" asked Jack.
Adina grinned, which was a little disconcerting when her lupine ears pricked up to accompany the expression. "Then you listen for the clicks..." she said as she pressed one of her new ears to the wooden door.
Grasping the dial, she began to turn it in a clockwise direction, slowly and listening carefully to each of the tiny clicks it made as the pointer passed from one marker to the next.
When she heard a click that sounded different to her enhanced wolf hearing, she switched direction and moved the dial carefully counter-clockwise.
Jack was reminded of an old black-and-white movie he'd seen as a kid where a team of bank robbers stood by impatiently as an aged safecracker worked his magic on the bank vault's lock.
Adina turned the wheel back and forth half a dozen times, pausing once or twice to wipe the perspiration from her hand before moving on.
Eventually she stood, brushing dirt from her skirt.
"That's it," she said to Jack. "All you have to do is spin the wheel to the right and you're in."
"OK," Jack replied. "You two hang back for a moment while I make sure there isn't some kind of unpleasant welcoming party on the other side of the door.
Adina took Callis' arm and led her away, wincing as her wolf ears reverted and returned to their human form.
Jack took a deep breath, then in one swift movement he turned the dial and pressed his shoulder against the thick wood.
There was an eerie creeeaaak as the door swung slowly inwards, quickly drowned out by the voice of the warden they had previously encountered.
"Hey! I told you lot to fu—”
The man's words were cut short by Jack's fist punching him squarely on the jaw. He crumpled to the hard floor, out cold.
"I can't be sure," Jack smiled at Adina and Callis, “but I think he just invited us inside!"
Moon of Hann, Police Headquarters, Chief's Office
Police Chief Bis Pargo took a step back and peered over the top of his half-moon glasses at the two blown-up photographs of himself being held up on the opposite side of the room.
"Neither of them!" he barked. "Neither of those screams, 'Hey, I'm a standup guy. Vote for me as the next Mayor of Hann!'"
&
nbsp; Grumbling, he sat down and flipped open a polished wooden box on his desk, rummaging inside for one of his more expensive cigars.
Oxbo Lake set both photographs down on the room's small meeting table and scampered over to the desk, smoothing his bleached-blond goatee with tattooed fingers.
"If I may speak freely as your campaign chairperson, sir, that's exactly what both of those pictures scream. They're saying 'you can trust me, I'm just like you!'"
"You can see my bald spot in them!" thundered Pargo. "I gave you strict instructions to airbrush that out!"
Lake sighed as he removed his red-framed spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I told you, sir, you're campaigning on a promise of honesty! You’ve called out the current Mayor on his history of lies and corruption, but you can't keep doing that if you fudge the way you look on your flyers!"
Finally locating the cigar he was searching for, Pargo snipped off the end and sat back. He pulled a matchbook emblazoned with the phrase 'Vote Pargo' on the cover from a glass bowl.
"I don't care what you told me!" the police chief rumbled. "Folks can't vote for me if they're doubled over laughing at my comb-over! I want a full head of hair on my official photograph."
"The people of Hann know that's not authentic, sir!"
"Remember where we are, Lake!" countered Pargo angrily. "Nibble my nutsack, man. If you think the disturbed fuckers who visit this vile wanton lump of rock are perverts and pissheads, you should see the six-fingered shitehawks who choose to live here! They want authenticity about as much as they want a fresh set of clothes and a job interview."
"But..."
"No buts, son! You're fired! And tell whoever replaces you that the next time I see a photograph of myself to be used in the race for mayor of this dump I expect it to have more hair than a witch's minge!"
Oxbo Lake turned to gather up the eschewed images and stuff them back into an oversized leather pouch, inwardly cursing the day he'd chosen politics over sociology as his college major. He should have ignored the cute smile of the guy behind the recruiting desk.
As he was zipping the pouch closed the office door burst open and a red-faced desk sergeant charged in.
"Chief Pargo, sir!" he blustered. "We got ourselves a hostage situation down at the Blue Diamond Casino. Some nasty bastard started shootin' up the place, and now he's locked the doors and won't let anyone in or out!"
Pargo held the flame of the match he had just struck on inch from the tip of his cigar. Pushing the stogie to the side of his mouth with his pock-marked tongue, he scowled at the out-of-breath officer.
"So? We got a hostage negotiator on the payroll, don't we?"
The sergeant nodded. "Yes sir, we do. Some fella name of Tarbuck."
"Then what're you waitin' for? Get him down there so he can talk this turd-taster into givin' himself up!"
"Yes, sir!" barked the sergeant, saluting sharply. "Right away, sir!"
Nodding to himself, Pargo rolled his cigar back to the center of his mouth and lit it.
"Well, that's a shame," commented Oxbo Lake as he made for the exit. "Real shame."
Pargo narrowed his eyes.
"What is?"
Lake turned. "Oh, nothing," he said with a small shrug. "It's just that seeing you talk down some crazed hostage-taker in person would have played real well on the midnight news bulletin. Could have been great for the campaign. But I'm fired, so I guess you don't need my advice any longer. I'll bid you good night."
Bis Pargo's cigar twitched as his face spread into a wide smile.
"Son, consider yourself rehired!"
13
Planet Taglen, Lymak City, Temple of Persha
Jack paused to zip-tie the unconscious warden's wrists and ankles before the group proceeded.
"I'm guessing this guy's not alone," he warned as they moved down the central aisle. "Stay sharp and keep the noise to a minimum."
SKARRRRR!
Mist's cry echoed crazily off the white marble walls, floor, and arched ceiling, causing Adina, Jack, and Callis to hastily cover their ears.
"You two are back, then?" asked Adina flatly, turning to find Tc'aarlat and Draven approaching between the empty benches.
"We were coming back to break the bad news that there was no other way inside," Draven told her, "but I see you've got that part covered."
"How did you manage to get in?" questioned Tc'aarlat.
Adina shrugged. "I just played it by ear."
"So what's the plan?" the Yollin asked.
"Well, I was going to suggest we search the place in silence," Jack replied, "but Mist pissed all over that idea."
"Hey!" explained Tc'aarlat, reaching up to scratch the raal hawk on the blood-red feathers of her chest. "It's not her fault if we're finally doing something more exciting than picking up strays."
He turned to smile at Callis. "No offense."
"None taken," replied Draven.
"I wasn't talking to you."
Jack approached the altar at the far end of the vast room. "The guy we're looking for is the high priest, Jolio Phisk," he informed them, examining the various items laid out on the bright white cloth covering the marble slab.
"And that guy's wife," Tc'aarlat reminded them, peering around the pillars toward a row of doors on a side wall. "Or rather, her mortal remains."
Taking a step backward, the Yollin bumped into a marble statue of a beautiful woman rising naked from a billowing cloud.
"Gerroff!" he yelled, flinging out a fist as he spun on the figure he presumed was attacking him. There was a crunch as his knuckles collided with solid stone.
"MOTHERFUCKING COCK-GOBBLING TWAT-PANTS!" he bellowed, shaking his hand and hopping around the base of the statue.
Jack sighed. "I always said he could start a fight in an empty church."
"Hey, it's not my fault!" Tc'aarlat growled. "She snuck up on me!"
"Yeah, she looks like one of those stealth statues I've heard so much about," commented Adina.
CLICK!
The team spun as the door beside the altar closed.
"Vestry," said Draven, reading the sign on the door as the group hurried over to the door. "I don't know a lot about churches, but I'm guessing that's where they keep the vestments."
"And where there are vestments there are priests," added Jack.
"Including at least one who knows we're here," Adina pointed out.
Jack pulled his modified Jean Dukes Special from its holster. "I'm setting this to stun," he told them, spinning the dial to three.
"They can do that now?" asked Draven.
Jack nodded. "Adina worked in Jean's lab on Base Station 11," he explained. "She knew we wanted a non-lethal option and got permission from the very top to modify them for us."
Draven gave Adina one of his more dazzling smiles and crooned, "Smart as well as beautiful!"
Producing her own Special, she waved it in Draven's direction. "And more than capable of knocking your ass out cold if you carry on with that patronizing shit."
Draven raised his hands in surrender. "Message received and understood, m'lady!"
Jack took a few steps back from the door. "Stick with Adina," he said to Callis, "and if it all goes cockeyed, get down and stay down."
The teenager nodded as Adina took her hand.
"Okay," said Jack, turning his left shoulder to the door. "On three. One... two..."
"Wait a minute!" interrupted Tc'aarlat, striding over to Jack. "If you want a door broken down you're gonna need an expert."
Jack sighed. "May I remind you that you just lost a fist fight with a statue?"
The Yollin jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the sculpture. "That's not just any statue. That's the Goddess Persha."
Jack paused, waiting for more, but it didn't come.
"So?"
"I don't hit women!" explained Tc'aarlat, his mandibles crossing. "Especially ones with rockin' bods like the groovy goddess over there."
Callis glanced at the
naked statue. "Ew!"
The Yollin flexed his arms. "I save the tough stuff for opponents with a little more masculinity."
"Such as doors..." offered Adina.
"Exactly!" Tc'aarlat beamed, entirely missing the sarcasm in her voice.
"Don't forget what happened last time you tried this back on Alma Nine."
Tc'aarlat shuddered, his mandibles uncrossing and spreading wide. The Yollin had attempted to break open an apartment door, only to find it was made of some reinforced shoulder-shattering material.
"What are the odds of that happening again?" he demanded.
Adina raised her hand. "I'll take a piece of that action!"
Ignoring her, Tc'aarlat rested the hand that wasn't throbbing with pain on Jack's shoulder and moved him a few steps to his left.
"Stand aside," he said firmly. He twitched his shoulder, sending Mist flapping into the air. The hawk landed on the nearest bench and watched the proceedings with interest.
"Ready when you are," said Jack with a smile.
Tc'aarlat closed his eyes for a second, muttering some unheard words of self-inspiration, then took a deep breath and charged.
His shoulder was just about to make contact with the vestry door when it was flung open by a short man wielding a golden dagger.
"I don't know what you people think you're—” he managed to yell before Tc'aarlat slammed into him, sending them both crashing to the floor in the brightly-lit room beyond.
Moon of Hann, Blue Diamond Casino
"Everybody get down on the floor and shut up!"
Vimor Malfic swept his gun across the breadth of the casino as staff and customers trudged over to the bar, the only area of the establishment free of gaming tables and machines.
"You!" he spat at one of the male croupiers. "Get a box and collect everyone's communication devices. Phones, tablets, radios—the lot. If I find out any one of you has held out you'll wish you were never born!"
All told, Malfic reckoned he had at least fifty hostages. Minus one, of course, since the two security guards had asked for permission to move Nerk Wassel's body into the back room of the bar where it would be out of sight.
Fifty hostages.
Malfic sneered at his prisoners as they begrudgingly sat on the time-worn bar-area carpet, making certain to aim his weapon at anyone who looked as though they might cause trouble.
