by Luke Norris
He jumped onto the jetty as the boat birthed, and caught the mooring ropes Shael threw him. As soon as he’d tied it off he darted away toward the boatshed he’d observed from the opposite bank.
The element of surprise would be his primary weapon. He slowed to a more natural gait. The second-stager’s suspicions would be instantly triggered were he to come dashing in there. This way he may be overlooked as a stray doc worker. He rounded the last shed between himself and the ramp leading to the water, where the two had disappeared into their cloaked ship.
Oliver began boosting. His metabolism responded immediately. The feeling was second nature now. He found he even had finite control over the level. He knew from past experience that boosting too deep came at a cost to the body, despite the momentary advantage it gave someone. After his battle with Yarn, he had been virtually immobile. He often wondered about the long-term effects. There was no user manual for these abilities in Oliver’s case.
The problem was while boosting your movements were rapid, snappy, not natural. The trick was to walk as if you were at normal speed, so as not to alert others. This felt torturously slow to Oliver.
He reached the edge of the building and peeked around the corner. The second-stager was there, just inside the doorway. Oliver didn’t exactly have a plan, but he needed something fast. Before rounding the corner completely he doubled back slightly to a retaining wall made of dark clay bricks. He simply freed five or so stacked them in his arms. Then plodded toward the shed with his head down in the menial gait of a dock laborer.
“Hey you there!” the second-stager’s Naharainee accent was thick and clumsy.
It immediately gave Oliver flashbacks of Yarn and Riff talking to the villagers, and his anger flared. Verity had devoted herself to mimicking the phonetic sounds of the languages she learned, to the point where she would be mistaken for a native highland woman. The others had just learned enough to exploit. It was the same laziness Oliver heard in this man’s voice.
The second-stager stomped toward Oliver when he didn’t receive an answer, irked that he had to explain further. “This is private here. You’re in the wrong place. We don’t need any…” he looked suspiciously at what Oliver was carrying, “bricks,” he added.
Oliver noticed a small drone accompanying the man, not a great deal larger than a softball. This could complicate things. Was it dangerous? He pretended he hadn’t fully understood, and started unloading them in front of the shed.
“No, don’t put them there! Stop. Stop I say.”
He was now standing right in front of Oliver. Perfect. He took his last brick and placed it innocently in the second stager’s hands.
“Blazing hydrons!” the man switched to Terrassian, muttering to himself. “This nitwit has no idea. I shouldn't have to deal with this. Seth and Li should be dealing these planetsiders.” The man looked Oliver up and down. “This one would probably get Seth all excited, crackpot that he is. Although this one’s probably too stupid even for driver material.” He switched back to broken Naharainee. “Take your bricks and get out of here!” His hand was now holding the brick, so he nodded back the way Oliver had come.”
Oliver switched to Terrissaian. “I’m afraid we’re leaving together,” he said grimly.
The man’s eyes widened at the use of the second-stage language.
In the same moment, Oliver hurled his last remaining brick point blank at the small drone. It connected with a loud crack. The device was propelled through the air but came to a stop ten or so meters away, and still managed to remain airborne, hovering somehow. It had sustained visible damage, but it was remarkably still working.
Suddenly, a bright plasma bolts shot out from the drone. But they were scattered and random. Holes were being blasted in furniture, in the walls, some striking near where they both stood. Oliver had damaged the drone’s orientation systems.
The second-stager came out of his shock, dropped the brick and began boosting. But it was too late, the element of surprise had worked to Oliver’s favor. He gripped the collar of the man’s Sharian robe by the neck and tightened the expert strangle-hold. Oliver’s palms pressed into the man’s jugular. He flailed for mere seconds before slumping against Oliver unconscious.
Things nearby were on fire now, and there were smokey shafts of light filtering through holes that had been blasted in the brick walls of the of the warehouse. The little drone’s capacity to wreak destruction was sobering. He had to focus.
Amidst the chaos, Oliver carefully tied the man’s hands together and hoisted the unconscious body over his shoulder. The second-stager was surprisingly light. Oliver could feel the man’s muscle composition. It was someone who had never known physical labor.
At that moment a bolt of hot plasma exploded by Oliver’s foot, leaving a small crater on the concrete floor and singeing his boot. He felt a few pieces of concrete cut into his leg.
That’s my cue, Oliver thought. The landing craft could return at any moment, and that would spell the end of my little escapade.
He hustled out of the shed, which had descended into bedlam with explosions and fire. His body slowed to resume normal metabolic speed. A window exploded behind him, and a large fireball rolled into the sky. It left a plume of black smoke rising, attesting to the damage inside.
Oliver was wet with sweat when he arrived back at the small boat. Shael stared at him aghast, then from the man on his shoulder back to the smoke rising in the sky. Lenat and Krin gave him an awkward salute, with knowing looks, but the fear they were trying to hide was evident in their eyes. He leaned over letting the second-stager body drop onto the boat. The two men caught him rather ungracefully and laid him down in the base of the hull.
“Get that motor prepped Shael!” Oliver called as he freed the mooring ropes near the bow. “We need to be gone from this place, like, right now.”
The pathetic motor spluttered to life. Oliver had to chuckle as he leaped into the boat. It was a comedy skit getaway, the little skiff was moving at jogging speed. Once they were out in the Tashka with the rest of the water traffic, they’d be less conspicuous.
Oliver looked over at Shael, she concentrated on steering and squinted as drops of water hit her in the face, and her raven black hair whipped behind her on the Tashka breeze.
She’s fearless, Oliver thought proudly.
She looked at him questioningly. “Ponsy’s hammer! This was your idea of stealth?”
“There were complications,” Oliver said scanning the sky. “He was not alone… I mean he was alone but had help. I’ll explain later. Right now we have to get as far from that warehouse as possible.”
Krin prodded the unconscious man. “He doesn’t look like an extraterrestrial.”
Lenat punched Krin, “Second-stager.” he corrected.
Krin seemed not to notice Lenat’s abuse. “Is he dangerous? He just looks like one of us.”
“He is extremely dangerous,” Oliver said, eyes still on the sky. “He is to be monitored every minute, and bound at all times. Most importantly, he cannot be allowed to communicate with the others. If that happens, there will be nothing we can do…” Oliver trailed off.
But had he already gone too far? Would this man’s kidnapping trigger the response that he dreaded? Drinking water laced with chemicals, drivers deployed, a full-blown invasion. No. That would not happen immediately, they would spend some time trying to figure out what happened to their crew member.
Oliver turned to Shael. She’d been watching him, she knew the gravity of what had just taken place. “There’s a good chance they recorded my face,” he winced. “There was a drone.”
“Outside of the Space program, not many people know your face,” Shael said, stone-faced. “Which means asking people won’t get them far.”
She was trying to be reassuring. Oliver appreciated it, but her eyes gave her away.
Maybe it would have been kinder not to tell her everything, he thought looking at the other two talking excitedly amongst each
other. No, Shael was his partner and deserved the truth. What’s more, she was a truth seeker, and would always prefer to have the knowledge no matter how painful.
A groan came from the bound man lying in the boat’s hull and caused them all to grow silent. Oliver addressed them sternly. “Nobody is to say a single word to him. Mine is to be the only voice this man hears! Is that clear?” They all nodded.
Their captive shook his head rousing himself and trying to take stock of his surroundings. After some moments he became aware of his constraints and realized his hands were bound tightly. He looked around at his captors until his gaze stopped on Oliver and recognition dawned on his face.
He addressed Oliver in Terrasian “What is this?” he said groggily. “What the hell are you playing at, attacking another second-stager? Is this some kind of joke?”
He thinks I’m a second-stager from another ship. Oliver didn’t let the revelation show on his face and waited.
“I’m on Li’s crew,” the second-stager said, “and you know what she’s like. You’d better free me immediately. She’ll bring this to the other crews.” He let it hang as if the threat in that statement was self-evident.
He’s giving me information. Oliver thought to himself, as long as he thinks I’m one of them. Talking was probably the worst thing Oliver could do. It wouldn’t take long for this second-stager to realize that there was something very different about him and that he did not, in fact, belong to another crew of pirates. Oliver might be able to fake it for a short time, thanks to the little knowledge he’d gleaned from his dealings with Riff and Yarn, and of course what Verity had told him. Nevertheless, it was better to let this man say all he had to say first.
“Are you seriously considering breaking the early trader pact?” the second-stager asked. “No, of course, you aren’t. You know the penalties for such a thing. So come, enough with this stunt!” He presented his bound hands to Oliver and waited for them to be removed. When Oliver didn’t respond, he sat back down confused and grumpy. “You’re here too late anyway,” he continued “Li has been here long enough to fill the ship’s hold. We’ll have begun blanketing before you even have your drivers on the ground.”
The words were ice cold fingers gripping Oliver’s heart and slowly squeezing. He kept his expression neutral. He had to learn more. He dared a few words in Terrasian, to prompt the man. “When’s blanketing?”
“Medom had it scheduled for the next few days,” the second-stager said, “but it’s been delayed because crazy Seth is messing with her chemicals. That guy spends too much time with his drivers, I tell you. Spends most time playing with their brains. He creeps me out a little.” He gave Oliver a knowing look. “I’m sure every crew has one, right?”
Oliver nodded, indulging him a small chuckle. But his thoughts were racing. Blanketing was about to start, maybe mere days away. That meant drivers, and war. Seething anger built up in Oliver as he listened to the second-stager talk unceremoniously about the decimation of all the people living here.
He looked back at the sky to distract himself from this depraved human. That’s when he saw it. A small dark object, traveling at great speed, fall from the sky. It flew at an angle and headed straight for the plume of dark smoke. It was soon followed by two more on the same trajectory. The objects must have been no bigger than a large bird. Drones, Oliver thought grimly. Now that Oliver knew what to look for, he instantly recognized the haze of the cloaked landing ship as it followed at a much slower pace. Easily mistaken for distortion from the heat of the building.
“You’re going to have some explaining to do,” the second-stager said also watching the landing craft.
“I’m just following orders,” Oliver grunted. He could hardly keep himself from tearing the man apart.
“Your captain ordered this stunt? Blazing hydrons! You know the penalties for directly engaging other early-traders. This is why we have drivers. Truth be told,” he added conspiratorially. “I hate being planetside. Li insists that we all spend time down here. And we have been on this primitive rock for years. I’m glad the run is finally almost over. I just wish Seth wasn’t holding things up with Medom.”
Shael cut the motor and let the large skiff drift towards the pier where they’d set off from.
“Where are they doing the blanketing drop?” Oliver enquired.
The second-stager looked at Oliver strangely. Crap! He’d either asked something that should be obvious to him or asked for information that wouldn’t typically be shared. He changed tact “I’m Riff.” It was the second-stager name that jumped into his mind. “I’ll free you as soon as I get orders,” Oliver added, hoping it would garner a little favor with the man.
“Terrom,” the second-stager introduced himself with a grunt. “To be honest, I don’t know why they still had me at the boatshed. The ship is full, the hold is packed denser than Triton’s dark center. There’s nothing more we are sending upstairs. I don’t think its skin off anybody’s nose,” he looked around at the others. His eyes landed on Shael and lingered. “These others?”
“First-stagers,” Oliver replied dismissively. “They’re useful.”
Terrom looked slightly uneasy about the idea but nodded. “Well, I can’t say that I share your sentiment, but Li seems to think along those lines. Who’s your captain?”
Oliver had anticipated this. “Yarn,” he said easily.
“Captain Yarn?” Terrom said surprised. “You’re one of Yarn’s crew? Nobody has heard from him in a long time. We thought he’d been taken out by a U.W.F. protector,” he laughed shaking his head. “He always was a cunning lizard.”
That could have gone very wrong, Oliver thought. He hadn’t stopped to consider that Yarn might be widely known among the other pirates. He’d dropped the name flippantly.
“He wasn’t taken out by a protector,” Oliver said. “That I can confirm.”
There was so much information Oliver needed; When would drivers be deployed? How many would there be? Drop locations? But he had to navigate these discussions very carefully with Terrom, because the man was currently offering information up freely. One wrong comment from Oliver and it could alert the second-stager there was something peculiar going on. Then he would not be so forthcoming. Once that happened Oliver would be forced to use… other tactics to make him talk. Despite the vile and depraved nature of this man, the thought of torturing him made Oliver’s stomach turn. But he needed information fast, the fate of Arakan and all of Laitam was at stake. He just had to hope it didn’t come to that.
“We have a warehouse outside of Naharain,” Oliver said grabbing the pier and climbing out to secure the skiff. “That’s where we are going.”
A few minutes later the five of them were climbing inside the wasp that would transport them to the space program compound.
Terrom was confused, “You’re not traveling in this are you?” he asked Oliver, beginning to sound afraid. “Where’s you’re craft?”
“We’re traveling in the wasp.”
“Why would you travel in a first-stage vehicle? Why take such risks?”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Oliver replied. “This is an Arakanian Wasp. I have traveled using the local technology on every first-stage planet I’ve been on.” It wasn’t a lie. Oliver didn’t need to mention the only other planet he’d been on was Earth.
“We all have our little follies.” Terrom conceded, and leaned in conspiratorially. “Mine are the first-stage women. I get the drivers to bring them to me after blanketing is complete. They are so gone, they have no idea what’s happening…”
Oliver didn’t wait to hear any more. He grabbed the second-stager by his robe and all but threw him in the wasp. It was all he could do to keep himself from tearing the man apart.
“Blazing hydrons man!” Terrom yelled as he crashed into the chair. “You almost tore the robe!” he sat in his seat looking sullen. “You’ve been too long planetside, Riff!”
Oliver was seeing red. He leaped insi
de the wasp and slammed his fist against the large door button, closing the hydraulic doors. He climbed in the front where Eorol was waiting in the driver’s seat. Eorol looked at Oliver with trepidation seeing him angry. He quickly looked back at the dashboard pretending to be occupied with preflight checks.
“Let’s transport this piece of shit to the compound,” Oliver said looking straight ahead.
“Yes, sir.” Eorol nodded. The wasp pitched forward as it lifted off and angled toward their destination
Oliver didn’t look at Eorol but continued softly. “We have no more time left.”
27
HUNT HIM
“Again!” Captain Li ordered. “Play it again.”
The hologram of the boatshed reformed with Terrom and the strange man in center frame. This was the fifth time the captain had watched the drone footage, and still, she watched in shock and bewilderment. It had attracted a small audience of other crew members, all leaning in watching just as intently, trying to understand what they were witnessing.
“Is that a first-stager?” One asked squinting at the image.
“Impossible!” said another.
The strange man in the hologram smashed the brick into the camera then the scene became chaotic. The camera was spinning in all directions. There was fire and smoke. When the two men came back into frame Terrom had been hoisted over the shoulders of the tall stranger, who then jogged out of the building carrying him.
“Terrom’s been kidnapped,” she whispered, “but by whom?” She looked around at the other perplexed faces. Everyone looked at each other. It was a puzzle.
“Does this change anything with our schedule?” Seth’s impatient voice came from the behind the onlookers.
“No,” Li replied quickly. “Blanketing begins as planned. In fact, this could be another crew, which is all the more reason to expedite things.”
But she wasn’t convinced of her own words. Was this a first-stager? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. The man had not taken anything and had not killed Terrom. What was going on? Terrom was a damn fool to let himself get caught. And the drama had to happen now when she had so much going on. They were about to drug the water supply and blanket the entire city.