Connor didn’t know anything about Jackie or Akshay. He was pretty sure under most circumstances they wouldn’t bat an eye at pain, strife, or cruelty. But he wasn’t surprised to find this was a level of depravity even they couldn’t endure. Both of them showed ill-concealed disgust at the fascist.
Wild Bill was the only one who didn’t seem affected by events. He sat easily, not a sign of stress or apprehension in his body language. The Texan seemed the only one Paxton couldn’t faze.
“Well, as entertaining as our visit has been, I do believe we have some business to discuss,” Wild Bill said.
“Of course,” Paxton’s voice came soft, smooth, and saccharine. “I’m sure you have many important duties to perform on…” the man’s wolfish grin seemed to swallow his face. “Where did you say you were from again?”
“An old mining ship called the Trafalgar,” Wild Bill lied smoothly. Paxton didn’t buy it; Wild Bill didn’t expect him to.
The fat slob pressed a button on his desk, and a few seconds later the doors opened again. The group was thankfully spared the humiliation of yet more young ladies this time. Two of Paxton’s overly muscled henchmen entered carrying three metal devices the size of large watermelons. Each had exposed rods, chips, and cables, along with a fair number of delicate looking precious metal covered tubes that were less than a millimeter in diameter.
“The bridges you requested,” Paxton said with a grand flourish. He waived away his guards, but they stopped at the doorway and took a position on each side. “I hope they will meet with your approval.”
Wild Bill looked to Heyerdahl, who remained almost catatonic. The Texan reached out and slapped the man on his shoulder drawing an all but blank look. After a few moments, Heyerdahl seemed to understand and stood, reaching into his belt pouch. He removed a device and checked the bridges, hooking its leads to several different points on each before returning to his chair. A barely perceptible nod told the others the bridges were in working order.
Wild Bill slid up his sleeve to access an electronic display strapped to his forearm. He took a few seconds to sort through data before looking up to Paxton. “I’ve sent our offer to the data link you’ve provided.”
The monster pressed a hidden button on his desk and a camouflaged display folded out of the desk. He spent a moment studying it before looking back at Wild Bill. “I’m afraid your offer is much too low,” he said, then tried to heave his massive body out of the chair. It took two tries before he was successful, with a groan of effort each time.
“It occurs to me that someone who can come up with technology as advanced as your electronic armband could provide a much more realistic offer than this,” he said as he circled the desk to be nearer to the group.
Wild Bill raised an eyebrow but punched more information into his forearm display. Paxton pivoted his own display around but barely looked at the new numbers.
“A much less insulting offer, which is appreciated, but still not quite up to par.” Paxton circled around to the back of Lavi’s chair and rested his hands on her shoulders, leaning forward to get an eyeful of her cleavage. “Perhaps there is some way you can sweeten the deal,” he said as he massaged her shoulders, his fingers finding their way lower and lower down her chest with each squeeze.
Wild Bill punched yet another set of numbers into his armband. “Final offer, Mr. Paxton. I’m afraid we don’t have any more.”
“Well that is unfortunate… Bill, was it?” the sweating behemoth said as he left Lavi and moved onto Charisma. She visibly shuddered when he bent down to sniff her hair. A much wider and deeper smile spread across the man’s face when his eyes found Charisma’s far more ample cleavage. Paxton’s hands worked her shoulders as they had Lavi’s. “You only offer four thousand liters of water. I’m sure I can get far more than that for just one bridge.” He smiled at Wild Bill, turning toward him. Charisma seemed to be momentarily forgotten as anything other than a shoulder to lean on. “But I’m not unreasonable. I consider myself quite generous and am willing to part with one of the bridges for your offer.”
“Not good enough,” came the Texas drawl. The two men stared at each other, sizing each other up for a moment, before Wild Bill spoke again. “I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”
Paxton just waved him to continue. He seemed to be enjoying his position of power. Jackie had said as much.
“These are some big boys you got,” Wild Bill said. “What’s to stop them, or anyone else, from just killing you and taking the power for themselves?”
The sweating fascist smiled and reached down to pat Charisma on the breast before returning to his throne.
Paxton slid a panel out from the desk and punched a few commands into it. He turned his display so the others could see it. The display showed a collection bin under a large opening at the bottom of the ship, surrounded by a hoard of townspeople. Then unclasped what looked like a watch on his wrist. “This monitors my heart rate,” he said. “If my heart rate were to suddenly stop…”
He pulled the device away from his wrist and a sudden deluge of water rushed out of the bottom of the ship. Townspeople rushed forward using pans, hats, bottles, bowls, and whatever else they had to scoop water out of the collection bins. They tore into each other to get at the water like starving dogs desperate to get just one more bite of food. Savage, feral, and lethal, several died so others could get just a little more to drink.
“Now I know what you’re thinking, “Paxton said, a smug note in his voice as he strapped the monitor back on. “What were to happen if someone else were to put the sensor on their wrist? A very good question, Bill. With a very good answer.” The fat man leaned back, his smugness flooding out of him so thickly that it could almost be eaten. “As you can imagine, a man of my size develops certain issues of a cardio nature. My heart has developed a pattern that can’t be duplicated by any other person. This sensor tracks my heart rate and adjusts to changes as they occur over the long term. But any immediate change…” Paxton waved a puffy hand at the display they had just seen.
“It seems you have everything tied up into a neat package” Wild Bill said wearing a large diplomatic smile. His eyes searched Paxton and his desk for options, but there didn’t seem to be any.
“Indeed,” Paxton said, once again heaving his great bulk up. “Just over a month ago, a fellow arrived that wasn’t quite as enlightened as you. He arrived in the Celeste, a ship that I understand you are familiar with.”
“We are,” Lavi answered, her tone guarded.
“He was in much the same position as you lot are,” the fat man said. Paxton forced his great bulk up and lumbered toward the sofa with the two naked women sat on. “Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite as wise as you are. That man challenged me.” He fixed the group with an icy stare. “And that man lost. It didn’t take long to gain control of the Celeste and with it I also gained control of his wife and sister. I was forced to make an example out of him, but as long as he behaves, everybody’s happy. Still, there’s a happy ending” the fat bastard said as he wrapped an arm around the neck of each naked woman, pulling them close to give each a kiss on the side of the head. “His family and I have become very close.”
“So as long as the people of Sanctuary are willing to stay here,” Lavi growled, “they’re dependent on you for their lives.”
“Indeed, Rana,” he purred delighted with his position of control. “And I am more than happy to take care of the needs of my people. But should something befall me…” Paxton intended to let the thought hang, but Charisma finished it.
“Everybody dies of thirst,” she said, rage giving her the strength to speak.
Paxton smiled and spread his hands before him. “I do everything I can to avoid that deplorable circumstance,” he finished. “I don’t want the people I take care of to suffer.”
“Not suffer?” Charisma gasped in exasperated shock. “The women on your ship are suffering. And when was the last time you left this ship? The people here
aren’t much more than savage beasts. They need actual care, not fascistic empty platitudes.” She was so enraged that she missed the warning glares from Lavi and Wild Bill.
“I assure you, Charisma…” he said smoothly, wearing a smug and victorious smile. But she interrupted.
“No!” Charisma screeched almost hysterically. She was oblivious to everything but her rage. “They are human beings, not meat! No human being should be treated like this. We have to put a stop to this. We can’t just let this happen, sarg…?” Charisma stopped herself, terrified eyes wide in realization. Jackie winced at the word and Akshay just shook his head.
“Sarg?” Paxton said slowly, making an unconvincing show of trying to puzzle out the rest of the word.
“So, its Sergeant, is it?” Paxton growled, a malevolent smile slowly splitting his bulbous face. “I thought you were Imperial soldiers. I could smell you fuckers all the way across the town.” His red faced flushed even deeper crimson as he ranted, voice rasping with rage. “You all think you’re better than everyone else. You want to tell everyone what to do! But this is my town. I run this place! And sticking your fucking noses in my business is going to cost you. Now you fuckers are going to learn your place!”
With a manic wave of Paxton’s hand, the two guards raised their shotguns and slowly advanced on the group.
Chapter 18:
Paxton stomped back to his desk, his massive body heaving with every angry breath as he fought to regain his self-control. He reached down and pulled a small pistol from the desk, pointing it at Wild Bill’s head. The bastard pressed another button on his desk panel and turned to smile evilly at the group. Then he waddled around his desk, marching up to the Texan with a demented grin on his moon face.
In moments, the door hissed open and a new woman limped stiffly in, wearing only a see-through apron. She pushed a gleaming metal cart with an equally gleaming metal cover, rolled into the closed position to hide its contents. The poor woman’s eyes were red and swollen from crying and, as she passed, the group could see dozens of thick angry red welts across her buttocks.
She pushed the cart to the desk next to Paxton, then stood trembling in terror while she waited for dismissal. Paxton smiled, then roughly pinched each of her nipples, holding the second while his eyes shifted to Charisma. He savored her rage at his abuse. Then his eyes moved back to the helpless woman as she trembled more violently, her face contorted in pain as his crushing fingers twisted slowly. Paxton studied her for a moment more, enjoying her terror and agony, before releasing her nipple and waiving a hand for her to leave. She gave a quick, taut bow, and hurried out of the room.
“What could possibly warrant that kind of treatment?” Charisma growled. She was flushed and her fingers dug into the armrests of her chair.
“My tea was cold,” he said matter-of-factly, as though it should have been obvious to anyone.
The evil man rolled the cover on the cart back to reveal all the weapons they had given to the front desk. “Now what should I do with you?” Paxton mused. One bloated hand fondled each of the weapons in turn, the other kept his own pistol trained on the party. The smug grin on his face sickened Connor. “I suppose I could just shoot you,” he said tot the party. “But no. I have to think of those who depend on me first.” He used the barrel of his pistol to turn Wild Bill’s head to the naked blonde on the sofa. “Her husband thought he could challenge me.”
Paxton waited until Wild Bill’s eyes had returned to his own before continuing. “Do you know what happened to the erstwhile Captain Reynolds? He was the former captain of the Celeste and husband of that little piece of ass. As I said, I have people who depend on me. And some of my guards fail to appreciate the fairer sex. But he…” Paxton leaned back against the desk, drawing a strained creak from the old wood. “He was just what they wanted.” Paxton finished. “He lasted six months before we had to put him down.”
“You’re a monster!” Charisma screeched and jerked toward him. Both guards swiveled their shotguns toward her, watching the woman very carefully.
“Perhaps,” he purred. “But you will come to respect me.” Paxton reached over and traced a finger down Charisma’s face. Revulsion twisted her face as she wrenched her head away from his invasion. The man simply grabbed her jaw and turned her face back to him. “One way or another,” he finished with a leer.
Whatever more words that may have been said were lost in a ringing in Connor’s ears. Or maybe it was in his head. Wherever the sound was coming from, it seemed to resonate with the snap of his self-control. Moving without conscious thought, Connor shot up out of his chair toward the guard just behind his left shoulder. The power in his legs caused his chair to shoot past the man.
The chair’s sudden flash of movement surprised the overconfident man, who instinctively watched it careen by. Its distraction lasted only a split second before the guard realized his mistake, but it was a realization that came too late as Connor found himself in place.
Instead of turning toward the massive guard, he’d backed almost next to the muscle-bound freak. One hand drove up the barrel of the weapon as it roared uselessly into the ceiling, the other snaked between the arms of the guard. With a twist, the shotgun was in his hands, pointed right at the massive guard’s chest. He stared the man in the eye as he pulled the trigger. A symmetrical hole appeared in the guard’s chest as a red mist sprayed into the wall.
The guard’s body hadn’t even hit the deck as Connor turned to find the other. That man was already on the ground, Jackie holding his shotgun against his head. Wild Bill moved after Paxton as a blur. A swat to the fat man’s throat and strike to his gun hand sent the small semi-automatic flipping gracefully through the air. Another lightning fast movement from the Texan put him behind his target. Wild Bill twisted Paxton’s arm around, driving the huge man over his own desk and onto the floor, away from the cartful of weapons.
When Lavi saw Jackie react in tandem to Connor’s attack, she instinctively knew what to do. She bolted from her seat, dashed to the cart just long enough to grab her knife and pistol, then raced for the door. She jammed her knife into a panel on the wall, prying off its interface to get to the mechanics beneath. Within seconds, she’d set the override to secure the door.
The surviving guard begged Jackie for his life, whining that Paxton was responsible for everything. Jackie responded by driving the butt of his shotgun into the guard’s throat. The man flopped on the floor fighting for air through his crushed windpipe.
“Was that really necessary?” Charisma growled at Jackie as she pulled her jet-injector out, placing a vile into its receiver. She pressed the tube against the side of the man’s neck, and seconds later, he grew still. “There’s no reason to make him suffer.”
“Sorry,” Jackie said. “I guess I got a little overwhelmed.” He turned to collect his weapons from the cart, slapping Connor on the shoulder as he passed. “Damn good job,” he said.
“What do we do with him?” Connor asked, as he approached Paxton. The human blob started to cry, sliding against the wall into a half bowing position of desperate supplication.
Before he could get too close, Wild Bill’s arm caught him. “We need him alive,” came his quiet Texas drawl. “He’s our bargaining chip to get out of here. Go get your weapons.” Already voices and banging sounded through the thick metal door.
Connor stared hateful daggers at the man for a moment longer before turning to collect his knives and pistol. There were only two more sets of weapons on the cart and he turned his eyes to the only two people that hadn’t armed themselves.
Charisma ignored her weapon to tend to the women on the couch. As always, her priority was the health of the others before personal security. She’d already covered the blonde with the jacket she wore to protect herself from the planet’s dust and ordered Wild Bill to cover the dark-haired woman with his. She made worried clucking sounds as she carefully checked each woman’s vitals and applied the medications she deemed necessary.
That left Heyerdahl. In the chaos, the most terrified member of the group had been completely overlooked. When Connor’s eyes finally found the man, he was standing where Paxton’s gun had landed. Ignored by everyone, no one had noticed that he picked up the small pistol. Connor didn’t have time to open his mouth before the pistol went off.
Like clockwork, the pistol discharged over and over into Paxton’s body until the weapon was spent. Heyerdahl’s face was still pale and tortured as he continued to pull the trigger, even after the slide locked back from a lack of bullets.
“Well, that’s that then,” Akshay said resignedly as he took the empty pistol from Heyerdahl’s trembling hand. Shouts and pounding emanating from the other side of the door became frantic. “How do we get out now?”
The room went quiet as they considered their problem. For several moments the only sound was the ruckus from the other side of the door.
“Maintenance tubes,” Wild Bill said and moved to the couch, Akshay joining him. There weren’t any visible; they must lie in a section of wall that couldn’t be seen. As the two men checked behind the couch, Connor raced to the bookcase.
“Here!” Connor called as the bookcase yanked to the floor, books spilling halfway across the room. He set to work on the manual override of the three-foot-tall hatch against the floor.
“Someone will need to carry them,” Charisma said, gesturing to the women. Akshay tossed the jacket covering the blonde aside and heaved her onto his shoulder while Wild Bill motioned Jackie to do the same for the other. Lavi passed a bridge to Charisma and Heyerdahl, the tech holding his with a detached numbness, then grabbed the last herself.
“You first, Connor,” Wild Bill said as the hatch hissed open.
Connor stuck his head in, and the sound of huffing men could be heard from below. The air was stale and stank of ionized smoke. “We have to go up,” he whispered. “I can hear them below us.”
They filed in the tube, one by one, leaving the shotguns behind. Their progress up the tunnel was agonizingly slow. It was only barely lit, mostly from engineering displays and small energy transfer discharges. The particulates in the air made throats and eyes burn as they moved through the tunnels. Obviously, Paxton didn’t care about upkeep on the parts of the ship that he didn’t frequent.
Echoes of Avarice Page 16