“I’m groggy,” she stated while combing her hands through her damp, pixie-cut hair. “If this is how you feel after thirteen days, how did the colony people feel after a bunch of years?”
“Probably a whole lot worse than you. Coffee? Tea?” Krag asked while posed at the food fabricator.
“Today, strong black tea. Hot. Large. Honey. Lemon.”
“Galley, did you get that order?”
“Yes, captain.”
After a moment the steaming mug of tea slid into the retrieval tray and Krag delivered it to Keiko, with a click as the cup attached to the table. He returned to the counter where he ordered his own mug of coffee, returned and sat across from Keiko.
“You need to eat. Something light.”
After breathing in the strong tea’s aroma, Keiko took a tentative sip and looked over the mug’s top at Krag. “Yeah. Maybe some soup.” Raising her voice, Keiko ordered, “Galley, Make me a bowl of miso soup. Add four pork wontons. Also make a small loaf of sourdough bread.”
Krag again returned to the counter, retrieved her order and set it in front of the groggy, small Asian woman. Then he ordered up a sandwich with a beer and the two of them ate in companionable silence.
“After they both finished, Krag announce, “I need to do a final check before we reach Corrinar. Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine. I just need to get back to normal. See you at dinner?”
“Seven, sharp. See you then.”
The Griffin exited the gate and entered Corrinar space. One of the border patrol squads that had inspected the fast little ship on a previous run currently patrolled the entrance space. After the cursory stop, Krag took his ship straight to the Arium gate.
Approaching the gate, Krag asked, “Keiko, would you like another round with the cryonic tank?”
“Six days? I think I’ll pass.”
This time Krag was pleased that Keiko would be his company for the next leg of their journey. His thirteen days of self-checking brought him to the conclusion that he liked being around her more than he stressed about her invasion of his personal space. He realized that, if he took it slow, he could return to the social person that he was before he had left the farm.
After waking from the tank, fighting through the resultant mental and physical drain, Keiko decided that boredom was preferable. Especially when the boredom was in the presence of the strong, kind Captain Marston.
Chapter 6
Aboard the Griffin
The six days to Arium proved to be comfortable days of morning workouts, individual tasks and Krag teaching Keiko more about Griffin. The small Asian woman displayed a penchant for navigation and piloting. She found peace reading the star maps, plotting courses, calculating run times and projecting destination points. Krag had her run through one of his evasive simulations and she impressed him with her quick reactions and analytical solutions. Keiko never panicked in the sims. Krag wanted to see what she would do with the real thing. He could tell that she was raw, but he could see that she could evolve into an excellent pilot.
Griffin broke into Arium space without incident. The border patrol recognized the small, fast ship and waved them through. They didn’t even request a purpose of visit or flight plan. (Their income probably being sweetened by Lawrence Gregor) Krag flew straight towards the second planet, Latinia, and parked in orbit. After a status check, he and Keiko took the shuttle down to the main city, Nuevo Aires.
Nuevo Aires is known throughout Humankind’s space as the place to procure anything desired, be it legal or otherwise. It is also known for its lawlessness. No crime lord had been able to tame the wild independent criminals and gangs that flourish in the city. Murder rates remained high, personal violations accepted as commonplace and property crimes became the norm. But, like all pack mentalities, there is a hierarchy. The most powerful gangs defined the areas of crime within which the small gangs could operate. Territories were staked out, pecking orders were defined. With this as the backdrop, Nuevo Aires established itself as a thriving, highly profitable commerce center, with very little red tape and practically no government intrusion. The city council ended up being comprised of the most powerful businessmen with less than ethical values and the top few gang leaders.
The city mayor, duly appointed by the council, wore both hats. His high success in his business enterprises and control of his gang of thugs insured a powerful place in the hierarchy. His penchant for protecting the ones who paid, threatening the ones who didn’t and killing anyone who stood against him established his rightful place as the ruler of the city. This was the atmosphere that Krag and Keiko were walking into. This was the man they were to meet.
No one inspected them at the space port. The tower simply verified Griffin’s port of origination, crosschecked the ship and its captain against its data base of acceptable ships then directed the shuttle to a designated landing pad. Once settled, shut down and secure, Krag unloaded the quad, now mounted with clear, bullet-proof doors, and matching windshield. The same safety shields covered the roll cage’s top and rear.
Being mid-afternoon, the heat of the day immediately began to warm the interior. Although the temperature was a comfortable mid-seventies, Krag and Keiko already had a sheen of sweat coating their faces because of the amount of clothing they wore.
Before Krag climbed into the vehicle, he rechecked the slug thrower on his hip, the telescoping batons under his sleeves and the knife in his boot. He had strapped his sheathed katana at an angle across his back.
After tossing a small duffel bag in the quad’s bed, Keiko did the same. She checked her sais, clicked into a cross harness on her back with the handles pointed down. She verified her easy reach to the dart pouches strapped to her thighs. Both had dressed in rugged outdoor gear with hats pulled down on their heads, Krag with his gillie, Keiko wearing a baseball cap with a split-tailed swallowtail embroidered on its bill. Loose-fitting flannel shirts covered their perspective body suits, Krag in his mono-weave body armor, Keiko in her chameleon with her head covering, gloves and crepe-soled shoes stuffed in her vest. Steel-shanked hiking boots completed both of their outfits. The result was two people, heavily armed and dressed with attitudes. Krag hoped that they wouldn’t run into any trouble and that their intimidating attire would be enough to discourage any thugs that constantly roamed the streets, looking for crimes of opportunity.
The potholes of the unkempt road shook and bounced the quad’s occupants, making the short run uncomfortable and slightly jarring. The blades strapped to their backs increased their discomfort, but neither was willing to disarm.
Driving into the city, Krag and Keiko kept swiveling their heads, looking for threats and areas that threats could manifest. Dark doorways, shadowed alleys, open walls constantly presented themselves as launch points for assaults. Thugs, beggars or prostitutes occupied the street corners. The gray of the multi-storied concrete buildings wore the marks from decades of grime, graffiti and gang signs. A few places were browned with old blood and scarred with energy blasts or laser pits. All the buildings still stood, so whatever wars raged, they raged with small arms and light explosives. Steel shutters and iron bars covered all the doors and windows on all levels. Where there was obvious wealth, security systems and guards protected the premises.
A roadblock interrupted their trip to their destination. Seven thugs lounged, resting against a rusted land vehicle, variously picking their teeth, chewing on fingernails or just wasting time. When they saw the quad approaching, they moved to the middle of the road, brandished their weapons and tried to look threatening. Krag brought the quad to a stop, leaned over the wheel and gazed at the gang. Keiko sat, hands in her lap, looking poised and unconcerned.
“Get out of the vehicle,” the leader demanded, while casually holding an energy rifle one handed. Two other thugs also held energy rifles. The other four held clubs made from metal pipes with large caps on their ends.
Both Krag and Keiko’s communication links translated
the command.
Although the cab would keep the two of them protected, the energy rifles could do real damage to the quad, not to mention the heavy pounding from metal clubs. So Krag opened his door and stepped out. Keiko did the same, with her right hand casually posed behind her leg holding a dart.
Hanging his hands at his sides, Krag asked, “What gang are you with?” If there was anything that he didn’t need, it was getting into a beef with one of Latinia’s major players.
“I don’t need to tell you shit, asshole.”
Now Krag knew. “Small timers, trying to make some scratch, earn their bones, develop a rep,” he thought.
“You gotta pay a toll,” the leader blustered.
Krag knew that, if he paid, he’d be flagged as a mark and every junior thug would take a run at him. Krag had never worked with Keiko in a pressure situation, but he had spent many hours training with her. He trusted her speed. He trusted her skills. He didn’t know about her temperament under live fire. He decided that now would be a good time to learn if he could trust her to carry her half of the load. Keeping his eyes on the gang boss, he lifted a nod at Keiko. She gave him a sideways look and nodded back.
Before the leader could raise his rifle, Krag pulled his slug thrower and blew a hole through the tough’s leg, causing him to buckle and drop his rifle. Simultaneously, Keiko flicked the dart towards another thug with a rifle. The loud report from Krag’s gun momentarily froze the five remaining gangsters. Charging forward, the third gunman got a shot off, hitting Krag in the chest. The energy pulse burned a hole through the vest and clothes but Krag’s body suit dispersed the charge. Krag snapped off a shot at the thug which smashed his hip. The gunman flipped around and bounced into the vehicle before collapsing to the ground. Holstering his automatic, Krag cross-pulled his batons, flicked them to full extension and waded into the four thugs left standing. Keiko did the same, pulling her knives and drawing an intricate pattern as she charged.
Krag reached his target first. Before the thug could raise his club, Krag swung down on the man’s wrist, breaking both bones. Stepping to the side, he delivered a roundhouse kick to the thug’s midsection, the toe of the boot digging deeply into his gut. The thug doubled over and dropped the club. With his other hand, Krag put his whole body behind a downward swing, cracking open the man’s face into a mask of blood and driving his head into the pavement. Krag hoped he wasn’t dead.
Keiko had reached her target but he was ready. With a baseball swing, the thug tried to take her head off. At the last moment she ducked, helped the swing through with her left blade, slicing the fingers on the club. She pivoted clockwise and ended just behind her would-be assailant as he staggered foreword a step. Raising her arm and using the hilt of her knife as a hammer, she smashed her victim’s head, just behind his ear. Continuing her pivot, she continued her dance, ending up facing her next victim. By this time Krag had reached the sixth criminal. As the man began raising the club, Krag bull rushed him, shoving the raised club back behind the thug’s head. Raising his own baton, Krag hammered the man in the forehead, opening a huge gash and knocking him unconscious. Krag tried to get out of the way, but he got a spray of blood on his vest.
Keiko crouched, ready to spring at the last gang member who immediately dropped his club and put up his hands.
“Sit. Cross legged. Hands behind your head,” Keiko commanded while pointing one of her blades at the thug’s nose.
He complied. Keiko sheathed her blades.
Krag collapsed his batons and slid them back into the arm mounts under the sleeves of his shirt. Then he began dragging the bodies off of the road. “We need to get out of here,” He stated.
Keiko reacted by moving back to the quad and climbing in. After finished clearing the road, Krag also climbed in, fired up the quad and continued toward the destination described in Keiko’s note. They slowly drove past the lone conscious thug. Keiko pulled a knife and stared into the eyes of the tough. He stayed sitting, focusing for all his life on his feet, with his hands still locked on his head. Both returned to keeping vigil on their surroundings, still high on the adrenaline rush and thoroughly drenched in sweat. Wet spots soaked up through their sleeves, chests and pant thighs.
Krag couldn’t help it. As he drove, he kept glancing down at Keiko, seeing the sweat, watching her heavy breaths lift her chest, stretching her blouse.
Keiko liked the way he glanced at her. She pulled off her cap and removed a small hand towel from the duffel she had brought. “You’re a mess, you know,” Keiko commented as she looked at Krag’s vest, now with a burn hole and smattered with blood.
“Well, we can’t all be dainty and squeaky clean,” Krag joked back as he glanced at Keiko wiping her face, hands and hair.
Word gets around fast. And Krag worried about local enforcement, lawful and otherwise. But the rest of the drive was uneventful. Their trip ended by parking in front of a non-descript door with no name, only a number.
Scanning the surroundings as they exited the quad, Krag held the door while Keiko entered. Krag had his hand on his pistol. Keiko had palmed a dart and her other grasped the hilt of a blade. After safely entering, Krag closed the door and they scoped out the room, finding it with only a desk and chair for furnishings. A solid door led to the back, with a camera mounted above its door jam. They saw a biometric pad mounted and angled on the wall next to the door handle, no lock or latch apparent. The two of them stood, poised and aware.
A voice come over a hidden speaker. “Please let me see your hands.” Krag’s and Keiko’s com links translated the request. They complied, both holding their hands at shoulder height, palms facing outward.
“And, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
Krag looked at the camera. “I am Captain Krag Marston.” Gesturing towards Keiko, he continued, “This is Keiko Suzume. Lawrence Gregor sent us.”
“Yes, Larry said you were coming. Please, one at a time, step forward and place your right hand on the biometric reader.”
Krag and Keiko looked at each other. “Larry?” Krag mouthed. Keiko shrugged her shoulders and raised an eyebrow.
Krag went first. Following the instructions, he placed his hand on the flat surface of the scanner.
“It will be just a minute. Larry sent me your finger prints and DNA configuration. I just need to verify that you are you.”
A light on the reader blinked multiple times as red then switched to green.
“Yup, you’re you. Next?”
Krag stepped aside and Keiko repeated the process. Again, the light ended showing green. They heard a loud click as the door swung outward, causing the two to hop out of its way.
Krag put his hand back on his automatic. Keiko re-palmed a dart. They cautiously walked through the door. A hallway led to a door which stood open. Taking the implied invitation, they both entered. The room they found themselves in looked like an office that a high-rolling financier might occupy. Artwork covered the walls. A luxurious lounging area occupied half of the room. A full service bar and cabinet covered one wall. The other half was simple, filled with a Plexiglas desk and a high backed chair. No wires or cables betrayed any electronics. A small, well-dressed man rose from the desk and moved towards Krag and Keiko.
Eyeing Krag’s vest, the man commented, “I see you have met the local gentry. Any breakage?” Krag and Keiko’s translators made the man’s speech understandable.
“Only them,” Krag replied, still on guard. His com mesh translated the response into the little man’s language.
“Oh, dear. Anyone important?”
“I don’t think so. Just some wanna-be’s, trying to build some cred.”
“Let’s switch to English. Do you speak English?
“Yes,” Krag answered for the two of them.
“Well,” the little man started in English. “I’m Sheldon Moreno. Not a good name, Sheldon, for a boy growing up in Nuevo Aires, but my mom liked it. So I got it. I go by Shelly.” The small man kept a cont
inuous stream of chatter as he reached the two and held out a hand to Krag.
Krag shook it. “Krag Marston.” Letting go of the hand and turning to Keiko, he continued, “Keiko Suzume.”
“Ah, the cat burglar, extraordinaire,” Shelly beamed as he held her small hand in both of his. “This will be a fun one. You’ll love it.”
Releasing Keiko’s hand, Shelly gestured towards the lounging area and headed towards the liqueur bar. “Drinks? Food? I was just getting ready to order dinner.”
Krag removed the ruined vest and sword harness. Keiko remained armed. Krag took a chair at right angles to the couch and facing the desk. He set the vest to the side and rested the katana against the cushion. Keiko took the couch and demurely sat, ankles crossed and hands in her lap.
“I’ll take a beer, if you have one. And dinner sounds great,” Krag answered.
“A glass of white wine would be fine, thank you,” was Keiko’s answer. “And dinner would be fine.”
Shelley finished preparing the drinks, poured himself some dark liqueur from a decanter and served his guests. Taking his own drink, he returned to his desk, set down his drink and, still standing, he tapped a spot on the plasticine top. The entire surface became a touch screen. “I was going to have some venison verde. It’s pretty spicy. Everything in Nuevo Aires is spicy. Is that ok?”
Krag looked at Keiko. She nodded. “Fine with us,” Krag responded.
Tapping another icon, a man’s image appeared. “Yes, Mr. Moreno?”
“Would you set servings for two more guests?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Retrieving his drink, Shelly crossed to the chair across from Krag and sat.
Taking a swallow from his beer, Krag began, “So, where do you know Mr. Gregor from?”
“I’m his cousin. My mother and his mother were sisters. We grew up together here, in Nuevo Aires. You might say that we went to the same school of hard knocks.”
Keiko sat quietly and listened. Krag commented, “Then he was raised here. How did he get to Novius?”
Sleeping in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 1) Page 16
