by Rachel Aukes
“Wonderful,” said Bolt. “If you could help us, we promise to maintain discretion. Our blasters are set on stun.” He gently took her hand and dropped the credits onto her palm, clinking one at a time.
Her fingers closed over the credits, and she pocketed them into her skirt. The madame fished out a chain with a multitude of keycards on it, flipped through them, and snapped off one. She handed the card to Bolt, and her gaze brushed over the stairway that led below ground. “Room Sixteen,” she said, then turned and walked away.
Bolt led the way down the stairs and through the hallway.
“My blaster’s set on kill,” Tumbler said as they walked.
Bolt grinned. “Mine is too.”
When they reached the right door, Bolt gave a simple nod to Tumbler before swiping the keycard over the panel on the wall. The door opened, and the pair lunged inside.
A bald man wearing an exoshield minus the helmet was sitting on the chair. He looked up from a book he’d been reading, and his eyes widened.
Their bounty stepped into the doorway across the sitting room. Bolt grinned, swung his blaster over, and fired.
Chapter Fifty
Rex kicked up and rolled over his chair before Tumbler’s shots hit the cushion where he’d been sitting a second earlier.
Joe dove behind the sofa as Bolt fired at him. Joe pulled out his blaster and yelled back to Reuben in the bedroom where Champ was barking. “Cover the kids!”
Reuben didn’t respond, but the bedroom door closed. Joe trusted the timid man to be brave when he needed to be.
“Stop firing! There are kids in here!” Joe yelled from behind the sofa.
“Then you shouldn’t have brought them here,” Bolt said, and fired several shots at Joe. The gunfire punctured the back of the sofa and hit the floor and wall around Joe with a sizzle; he hoped the walls were thick enough to stop the shots from penetrating the bedroom. One shot ricocheted off his armor. He grimaced; his helmet was still sitting on the table across the room. He looked over to see Rex hunched behind the chair and returning fire to Tumbler. Their glances connected, and Tumbler gave a sloppy grin. The other hunter actually seemed to be enjoying himself.
“I’m looking forward to killing you, T-Rex,” Tumbler said as he fired at Rex. “Always thinking you’re better than me. I’ll show you.”
“That’s because I am better than you, whelp,” Rex shot back.
“You should’ve died down in Shiprock, Havoc!” Bolt called out. “Now you’re bringing your pals down with you!”
Joe fired random shots around the edge of the sofa to keep Bolt from reaching him. The furniture was rapidly breaking apart, with bits of fabric floating in the smoky air. Rex’s chair looked worse, and Joe noticed the hunter’s face was wrinkled in pain. They didn’t have much time. Bolt and Tumbler had the benefit of high ground and helmets. Joe and Rex had their exoshields on, but without helmets, Bolt and Tumbler only needed one lucky shot.
Joe heard a pause in the gunfire.
Tumbler said, “Turbo, what are you—”
His words were cut off with a gurgling sound, then Bolt spoke. “Stand back, Turbo.”
Joe cautiously came to his feet to see Tumbler lying on the floor with Kit’s sword sticking through his neck. Bolt and Turbo were facing each other, blasters drawn. When Bolt noticed Joe, he pointed his second blaster at him.
“I’ll take at least one of you out before you kill me,” he warned.
Rex dragged himself around the chair, his blaster also leveled on Bolt.
Joe kept his focus on Bolt. “You’re outgunned. Put down your blasters, and we’ll let you live.”
“I came here with a legal ticket for you, Havoc,” Bolt said, and he became focused completely on Joe. “You’re all making it worse for yourselves by fighting.”
“No one’s going to help you, Shorty. Everyone knows you were playing for the other team,” Rex replied.
Bolt didn’t speak.
“Look at Tumbler, Bolt. That’s what’s going to happen to you if you don’t put down your blasters,” Joe cautioned.
The pair faced off for three seconds, then another three. Joe couldn’t kill Bolt without getting himself killed. The furniture fragments still danced in the heavy air like weary fireflies.
Bolt broke the silence first. “If I put away my blasters, none of you will shoot me?”
Joe tilted his head in a small nod. “That’s right. You don’t have to die today.”
Another few seconds passed before Bolt spoke again. “Okay. I’ll holster them. Don’t shoot.” He held his blasters sideways to show that he’d taken his fingers off the triggers, then he returned each blaster to its thigh holster.
Joe didn’t lower his blaster. “That was smart of you.”
Rex stood and limped forward.
Kit also stepped closer to Bolt, keeping his blaster leveled on the man. “Did Sloan give you the knockout ticket for Havoc?”
Bolt nodded. “He issued the ticket as soon as he heard about the escape.”
“So Sloan’s issuing tickets now. He’s cut out the guild completely,” Joe muttered.
“Times are a changing,” Bolt said. “If you don’t keep up, you’ll find yourselves as relics.”
Rex walked up to Bolt, raised his blaster, and fired point blank at Bolt’s chest.
Joe gasped as Bolt collapsed. No exoshield could block penetration at that distance. Both Joe and Kit swung their blasters toward Rex.
“He’d surrendered. What’d you do that for?” Joe demanded.
Rex sat down to examine his ankle injury before replying. “Because you weren’t going to do it. Since when did you go soft, by the way? The Havoc I know had no problems killing what needed killing.”
“I’m not soft. I was going to question him,” Joe countered.
“He doesn’t know anything. This pair was just Sloan’s lackeys,” Rex rambled as he poked at his armor. “A shot snuck through a joint. I’d just upgraded those joints, too. I’m going to see about a refund.”
The door behind Joe opened, and Reuben peeked out. When he saw the dead hunters, he grimaced.
“Are the kids okay?” Joe asked.
“We’re fine. Just a little shook up,” Reuben said, and Joe wondered if Reuben was really referring to himself.
“Good. Don’t let them see this,” Joe said. “Get the kids ready to move out. We can’t stay here.”
Reuben nodded quickly, then the door shut again.
“It’s good he’s dead. Bolt would’ve run back to Sloan and told him about all of you,” Kit said as he holstered his blaster, put a foot on Tumbler’s back, and tugged at his sword. After several hard pulls, it came loose. He examined the weapon. When he saw Joe and Rex watching him, he added, “What? The blade sometimes sticks in exoshields.”
Joe sighed, and Rex whistled. Once he’d sheathed his sword, Kit spoke again. “I found Sara.”
Joe’s eyes lit up. “Is she all right?”
Kit nodded as he grabbed Tumbler by the shoulders and dragged the body over to Bolt and dropped it. “For now. She was with the older Sloan. As long as he keeps her near him, we can’t grab her without drawing a lot of murc attention.”
Joe scowled and holstered his blaster. “He’s using her as bait. He knows I’m here, and he’s trying to draw me out.”
“Except that you’re not stupid enough to fall for it,” Rex said.
Kit motioned to Joe, and the pair moved the sofa in front of the bodies, hiding them from view.
“Hey, you’re not stupid, right?” Rex asked.
Joe walked to the bedroom door and opened it. “It’s clear.” He turned to Rex. “Of course I’m going to free Sara. She’s Sloan’s prisoner because of me.”
Rex shook his head. “I thought Tumbler had a short family tree, but yours must be the size of a shrub.”
“I’m going with you. I owe it to Nick,” Kit said.
Rex guffawed. “Really? You seem like you have half a brain. How is it you two
are even friends?”
“Who said we’re friends?” Kit snapped back.
Rex grinned.
Reuben stepped through the doorway. Nick and Romy followed, each carrying a small bag, and Champ was glued to Nick’s side; the dog seemed skittish from the recent gunfight, and Joe wondered if someone had shot her before.
“Joe, you’re okay!” Nick exclaimed. The kids ran and hugged him. He smiled and embraced them.
While he did so, Kit pulled out the two fobs. “I got a couple of interesting tickets today.”
Joe pulled away from the children and took the tickets. He chortled when he looked at each one, before handing them to Rex. “Of all the hunters out there, Cat sent you to take out Reuben and Rex?”
“Of course. I have the best record in the guild,” Kit said, then added, “and her favorite hunter failed already.”
“Failed is an understatement,” Rex said, chuckling. “Those poor schmucks he brought with him fried like bacon.”
“Ew, gross,” Nick said.
“He’s just joking,” Reuben said as he ushered the kids away while simultaneously glaring at Rex.
“Yep, just a joke,” Rex said.
Reuben stepped back to the group, this time eying Kit. “You’re not really going to try to kill us, are you?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
Kit cocked his head. “I was thinking about it.”
“This is bad. This is very bad. Three knockout tickets, all with a high face value, standing together in one room is just asking for trouble,” Reuben said. “If Cat decides to open up these tickets, every hunter across the wastelands will be after us.”
Kit pulled out his sword. “That’s why the three of you need to die. The sooner, the better.”
Chapter Fifty-One
“I can’t believe you still trust her,” Joe said, his scowl hidden by his helmet as they stood in the madame’s private room.
Rex chortled. “I don’t trust her. Never have, but I know where she stands. She’s always for sale to the highest bidder. The kids are safe with her as long as there are no tickets on their heads, and if Sloan hasn’t issued tickets by now, he’s not going to.”
Joe tried to believe that. “Thanks for paying for this. I’m sure hiring a madame to babysit isn’t exactly cheap.”
Rex squeezed Joe’s shoulder. “What are you talking about? You’re paying me back. With interest.” He limped off to speak with the madame, who was saying something that was making Reuben blush.
Joe headed over and knelt before the kids. “You’re safe here. I’m going to bring your mother back.”
“Take us with you,” Romy said.
“We can help,” Nick added.
Joe shook his head. “Not this time. I need to know that you’re safe. Listen, we’ll be back by morning, so you have to hang out here just a little while longer.”
Neither kid seemed pleased if their pouty expressions were any indicator.
Joe met the others on the other side of the room.
Kit looked up from his armlet. “Cat’s staying at the murc-house. She sent me her room number.”
Reuben had rubbed his neck red. “And you’re sure the pills won’t kill us?”
“The pills are safe,” Kit said, and Joe heard a “more or less” tacked on, barely audible, at the end. Then he spoke louder. “This will work. Joe and I have used these pills plenty of times before.”
“And you never suffered any bad side effects?” Reuben asked.
“We’ve used the pills on other people; we’ve never taken them ourselves,” Kit corrected. “Only one person died, and he had a heart condition. You don’t have a heart condition, do you?”
Reuben’s eyes went wide. “I don’t think so, but what if I do and I don’t know?”
Rex clapped Reuben on the back. “You’ll be fine, boss. You’ve been saying that you had a hard time sleeping.”
“Sleeping is different than being comatose,” Reuben clarified.
Rex shrugged. “Sure. One has dreams, the other doesn’t.”
“It’ll be dinnertime soon. We should get moving,” Joe said.
Kit opened the madame’s nondescript back door that led outside the brothel. As Rex limped out, he wagged a finger at the madame. “This doesn’t make us even, Layni.”
The woman smiled. “You’re right, Rex. You still owe me for driving that cutter of yours through my wall.”
Rex grimaced and put on his helmet. “Water under the bridge, Layni. Water under the bridge.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Kit tugged the weapon crate with him to the entrance of the MRC administration building. This time, the guards wouldn’t let him through without verifying the contents of the crate.
“I’m bringing proof of two knockout tickets to Cat of the Iron Guild.”
“We still need to verify the contents,” one of the murcs said.
“Suit yourself.” Kit opened the crate. The odors surrounding death had a pungent tang that was easily recognizable: blood, urine, and the sickly-sweet smell of rotting meat. He’d skipped the old meat part, but he’d made up for it with the other two smells. Rex and Reuben would wake from their medically-induced comas in a stuffy crate that stank like a corpse. He hoped neither was too squeamish, but he had his suspicions about the scrawnier of the pair.
The two murcs stepped back, and the one who’d spoken earlier waved him on. “Move along.”
He tugged the crate through the entrance, though it took only the strength of his pinky finger to pull it along. The crate hovered above the ground, using reverse magnetism against small metal balls that rolled along the ground behind Kit. The balls rolled wherever Kit pulled the crate. It was an ingenious invention, created by someone at some time in one of the siloes for moving things easily up and down many levels. The same technology worked for transporting two “corpses.”
Kit walked the crate a few hundred feet before he reached the office number Cat had provided. He knew his blasters were fully charged, his sword was always ready, and his fingers twitched to have something in his hand. If Cat was onto him, he could be walking into a trap. Being the one person in a room without a blaster in hand made that person as good as dead.
He breathed deeply and then pressed the doorbell. He stood in front of the small panel on the screen, knowing it included a camera. The door opened, and he stepped inside to find a small office, smaller than he’d expected for the owner of a guild, though a second door on the far wall likely led underground to more spacious surroundings.
Cat, alone, stood as soon as he entered. “I’ve always known you were good, Turbo, but completing two knockout tickets in less than four hours is a new record.”
Kit shrugged. “They were easy enough to find. They were hiding in Far Town, and there are no secrets in Far Town for those willing to pay. Besides, half of the job had been done already for me. You never told me you gave Bolt and Tumbler the same tickets.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Bolt and Tumbler were already there.” He pulled up images on his armlet and displayed the holograms. “This is what I found.” He scrolled around the image of the wrecked room, and the bodies strewn throughout. He scrolled around the image, displaying each body as he spoke of it.
“T-Rex was the only person in the room still alive, but he’d been shot up pretty bad. I put him out of his misery. As you can see, Bolt and Tumbler were dead, along with Reuben Tally and this other hunter. I ran a search that pulled up the name Joe Ballast, who went by the call sign Havoc, but he didn’t have any open tickets on his head.”
Cat pointed. “Hold the image there.”
He froze the image.
Her jaw slackened. “He’s wearing the banner.”
“The banner?” Kit asked.
She nodded. “He’s a Raven. Each of them carries a red banner.”
“I don’t know what that is,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter.” She scowled. “I wish I’d been there
to kill him myself.” She leaned back. “If Bolt and Tumbler were there, it wasn’t under my orders. I already told you, they’ve been working for Sloan. He probably sent them after that Havoc on his own.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “If it wasn’t for adding the Haft hunters to our numbers, the Iron Guild would be losing members far faster than I can replace them.”
He didn’t comment.
She walked over. “I need proof of the knockouts.”
He nodded and opened the crate. She placed a forefinger under her nose as she looked inside. Reuben’s body lay on top of Rex in the tight confines. Both bore evidence of multiple blaster shots, and blood stained their armor and clothes. Rex had an additional bloodstain on his neck. Kit had taken the blaster shots from a distance, shooting the clothes and armor without the men inside. Tumbler, who’d always annoyed Kit, had donated the blood. Collecting it had been an unpleasant task, but it would all be worthwhile if Cat bought the act.
She reached gingerly into the crate—Kit tensed—and poked Rex in the forehead.
She sneered before stepping back. “T-Rex has been a thorn in my side for too long. This is an exciting day for me.” She cocked her head. “Why didn’t you bring in the third one—Havoc?”
“No ticket,” Kit replied. “No reason for me to mess with another body if I’m not getting paid. I left him there with Bolt and Tumbler. I can bring them all in if you want to pay me for them.”
“No. Leave them.” She held out her hand. “I’ll sign off on the tickets.”
He closed the crate and handed her the two tickets.
She ran them through a computer on her desk. “T-Rex Orlov, confirmed dead. Reuben Tally, confirmed dead. I’ll deposit half of the contract into your usual account.”
He gave a nod.
She motioned to the crate. “Throw them in the garbage with the rest of the trash.”
“I will,” he said. “Let me know if you have any other tickets come up.”
“I will.” She gave him an appraising look. “You know what I like about you?”
