by J. N. Chaney
“Yeah, Siggy,” I ordered, more irritated than anything else.
When dealing with a client who would pay this much for a simple delivery, I had just assumed the drop-off agent I’d been assigned to work with would be professional enough to arrive on time and avoid an interaction. These sorts of drop-offs were meant to be anonymous, so that no one could trace anything back to anyone involved.
That meant I was dealing with a rookie, and it pissed me off.
Of course, things went wrong all the time. Decker was proof of that. Given the lengths the client was going to in order to retrieve this object and remain anonymous in the process, I could only assume this artifact had been stolen.
Maybe someone or something had interrupted the original heist. It would explain why this guy was late.
To be safe, I decided not to wait in the room to see who entered after me. After all, anonymity was the point, and I didn’t want to show my face.
“The ship has landed, sir,” said Sigmond.
“How far away?” I asked as I stepped back into the hallway and closed the door behind me.
“On the opposite end of town. Scans indicate a man is walking toward the building now.”
“Is he carrying anything?”
“It’s difficult to tell, sir,” admitted Sigmond. “My scanners aren’t able to detect his possessions with absolute certainty.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just keep me posted on his movements.”
“Of course, Captain.”
I stalked down the hallway, eyeing each of the doors I passed and trying to see which would give me the best visibility of who entered and left the hallway.
Sure, maybe this was an honest delay, and perhaps I had nothing to worry about. But I hadn’t made it this far by assuming the best of people.
Time to set a little trap.
Hopefully, I was being paranoid and the guy would just leave the artifact and get the hell off the moon. If that were the case, I still didn’t want to leave any indication that I had been here or that I was involved in this in any way.
I scanned the rooms again, trying to find a good spot to take cover. At the far end of the hallway was an open door, one that gave me a clear sightline to the drop-off location.
Perfect.
I ducked inside and knelt behind a desk that had, by some miracle, not been overturned. Wood wrapped around all sides of the desk, blocking anyone from being able to see me. I was even able to peer through a small gap at the floor and into the hallway beyond.
Time to wait.
“The visitor has reached the main entrance,” announced Sigmond. “I believe this is our drop-off agent.”
“Time to find out, Siggy,” I said quietly.
I lay on the dirty floor, grimacing as the moon dust puffed into the air, and angled my gun through the small gap underneath the desk. I squinted down the barrel, my pistol aimed at about shoulder-height, and all I could do now was wait for him to enter.
The first thing I heard was the creak of the floor under someone's boot. Slow and steady footsteps thumped along the floorboards, followed by the occasional creak of the aging wood as whoever this was drew closer.
Come on, I thought, impatient to see who it was. Get on with it.
As the footsteps neared my trap, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a strong build walked into the hallway. He had broad shoulders and a square jaw attached one hell of an ugly mug.
The stranger briefly scanned the room I was in, his gaze sweeping overhead. I kept still and held my breath, daring him to notice the barrel of my pistol pointed right at him, but he turned his back on me and walked down the hall.
He paused and inspected the floor. My boot prints would be pretty obvious, but I’d tracked all over the area so he’d have to clear the entire space to find me.
Just as I had done not long ago, he peered into each room as he passed. His hand rested on the gun at his waist with every step. To my surprise, he didn’t carry a bag or anything in his other hand, which struck me as odd. An artifact worth enough money to go through all of this hassle should have been fairly large, but I didn’t have a corner on the artifacts market. Maybe it was small enough to fit in his pocket.
Maybe. The longer he took to reach the far end of the hallway, the more and more suspicious I became.
I wanted him to drop off the artifact and leave. He knew someone was here—I had no doubt that he had seen the Star. Only an idiot would’ve missed it. The question was, did he think I was waiting on board my ship, or did he know I’d come in?
It all depended on how much he’d been watching from afar. The timing seemed a little too convenient, after all. He hadn’t shown up until I was already in the drop-off area.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d timed it all perfectly.
As he walked toward the door, he kept to the edges of the hallway, likely to avoid stepping on any squeaky boards. The stranger drew his gun as he passed the last open room, and now it was pointed squarely in the direction of the drop-off area. Gun raised, he paused at the closed entrance without making a sound.
If I’d been in there, I wouldn’t have even known he was outside the room. The realization set me on edge, and I tightened my grip on my pistol.
The man set his hand on the doorknob and cocked his gun.
In one fluid movement, he threw open the door and fired into the room without so much as looking first. When nobody thudded to the floor, he cursed under his breath and scanned the empty room.
That cinched it for me.
The asshole had just tried to kill me, and right now I hated being right.
8
I cocked my gun, ready to blow a hole in the back of his head. From this distance, I might not have the best chance at getting a good shot, but I still had the advantage.
The second my gun made a noise, however, the stranger turned on his heel and stared directly at the desk I’d taken cover behind. He opened fire without so much as a moment's hesitation.
Bullets slammed into the desk. The wood, already weakened by time, splintered. I lost my advantage and rolled aside, keeping low to the ground as bullets and debris flew around me. One bullet tore clean through the wood and just missed my face.
The shooting paused, probably to give him time to reload, and I peered over the desk just fast enough to fire off a few shots. In the split second it took for me to look over the desk, I noticed him already halfway down the hall—approaching quickly. As I opened fire, he darted into a room and out of sight.
The bastard didn't even give me enough time to go through all my ammo before he returned fire.
I dropped to the ground as bullets sailed overhead yet again. I'd been wrong. He hadn't even paused to reload. He couldn't have, not in that short span. He probably had multiple guns on him, and I needed to think of something clever to get out of this.
He had more firepower than me, from the sound of it, and a knack for taking the upper hand in a gunfight. Dueling my way out of this mess probably wouldn’t get me far.
I scanned the room for other options. There wasn’t much. Besides the desk, the only other thing it had in it was a window behind me. As the stranger fired, the glass shattered.
Not a chance. The window was in his clear sightline, and I’d get a bullet in my back trying to use that to run.
“Siggy!” I said into the comm in my ear as gunfire thundered through the structure. “Fire into the middle of the building!”
“I advise against that, sir,” said the AI. “Doing so could bring the second floor down on top of you. Chances of survival are roughly twenty-three percent.”
The gunfire paused, and I popped my head over the desk to find him in the hallway, far too close for comfort. I let off three shots, and he dashed again into another room—this one closer to me than the last time he’d taken cover.
“Just do it!” I shouted as he resumed fire. “And try not to kill me!”
“Very well, Captain,” answered Sigmond. “Plea
se take cover.”
As the hail of gunfire destroyed what was left of the desk, I rolled out of range and set my back against the wall closest to the door.
With Sigmond on his way, I needed a strategic position that would give me as much cover as possible when the roof came down. There weren’t many options, of course, but I settled into the corner since it was the most structurally sound.
Of course, the phrase “structurally sound” and this building didn’t quite go together, but I’d just have to make do given what I had to work with.
With my back against the wall, I took aim at the open entry and coiled my finger around the trigger. I drew my revolver, too, and took aim with a gun in each hand.
If I was going down, I’d do so fighting.
I’d lost the advantage, and I didn't have any cover anymore. I would just have to make every bullet count. There was nothing else in this room to use, and if my plan to use the Star’s quad cannons didn't work, I was seriously screwed.
“Come out, Hughes,” the man said, his voice deep and gravelly. “Let’s finish this like men.”
What the hell?
He knew my name. This wasn’t just a heist gone bad. This was an assassination attempt by a man I’d never even met.
“Who the hell are you, asshole?” I shouted.
His footsteps thumped slowly along the wood, and the hallway floorboards creaked loudly as he approached the door.
He didn’t answer.
The hum of engines approaching grew slowly louder, and the footsteps paused. I resisted the impulse to say something, since I wanted him to have no idea what I had in store for him.
My life hinged on what happened next.
“You stupid son of a bitch!” he shouted.
His footsteps raced down the hallway as the Star neared. It seemed like he was running back toward the room where he’d tried to kill me, but I couldn’t really tell.
Besides, he wasn’t fast enough to take cover.
The explosion of a blast from the quad cannons tore through the air. The building splintered around us, and a flash of light blinded me for a second. I raised my arms over my head as planks fell on top of me.
Something hit me square in the shoulder, and I grimaced with pain as debris nailed me in the back. It took a few moments for the dust to settle, and I kept my arms over my head until nothing else fell on me.
When my eyes finally adjusted, beams and smashed furniture sat in piles around me. My choice to use the corner to shield myself from most of the damage had been a good one, as a long wooden beam now crushed what was left of the desk I’d used for cover.
In a matter of seconds, the building had come down, and I paused for a moment to listen to the silence that followed.
No gunshots. No cursing. No coughing. Maybe the stranger had gotten what was coming to him, but I didn't want to wait and find out.
I holstered the revolver but kept my pistol in hand, just in case. I made my way through the rubble carefully, not interested in breaking an ankle on the way out even though I needed to move quickly. The loose structure of the walls had remained, and I peered around what was left of the doorframe to see nothing but piles of rubble in every direction.
Good. Maybe the asshole was dead after all.
I slid down a beam and stepped out into the hallway, my gun still raised as I made my way through the debris. The open sky was visible through the vast gap that had once been the building’s roof, and I climbed over the piles of wood as I tried to reach the main entrance.
Behind me, someone grunted. A heavy joist shifted in the pile of debris, and a cough broke through the air.
Damn it. He'd survived.
I was tempted to dig through the rubble, find him, and plant a bullet in his skull, but this guy was good. If he was down, it was momentary, and any advantage I had probably wouldn't last for long. I didn't have the upper hand here, and I wouldn't let my pride get in the way.
A smart man knew when to retreat and fight another day.
“Where are you, Siggy?” I asked as I picked up speed.
“I have the Renegade Star hovering as low as possible near the front door,” replied the AI.
“Open the cargo bay gate,” I ordered.
“Get back here, Hughes!” the man shouted, and the clatter of wood followed shortly thereafter.
The pop of gunshots rang through the air, and I ducked on instinct as more of the debris disintegrated around me. I returned fire over my shoulder, but it was difficult enough to make my way along the uneven, debris-strewn floor. My bullets sank into what was left of the wall behind me.
The front door had been blown off its hinges, and all that remained were the rotting front steps leading out onto the dusty road. The Renegade Star hovered close by, barely fitting in the gap between the town hall and the next building over, and I hoped it wouldn’t sustain any damage from this experience.
Any harm to the hull could mean a life or death situation out there in space, and I couldn’t risk it.
I bolted into the street as the Renegade Star’s gate lowered in front of me, kicking up dust from the surface.
“Hughes!” the man shouted from behind me.
I dove into the cargo bay and several rounds skated along the hull. One tore through the air above me, and I kept my face to the floor as it ricocheted through the metal interior of the cargo bay.
“Go, Siggy! Go!” I shouted. “And close the cargo bay doors!”
“Right away, sir,” answered the AI.
The ship lurched, and the force of the Star launching off the moon sent me sliding along the cargo bay floor. The clang of the ricocheting bullet finally stopped, and I hesitantly opened my eyes as the gate finally sealed. I looked around, wondering where the bullet had gone, and part of me debated whether or not it might actually be in my body. If perhaps shock had numbed the pain.
The floor vibrated from the roaring engines, and I holstered my pistol as I quickly patted my body down to take stock. Everything seemed fine except the soreness already straining my body from a building coming down on top of me.
Good. Wherever the bullet had gone, I could find it later.
“What the hell was that, Siggy?” I asked as I bolted up the stairs.
“That gentleman seemed quite intent on killing you, sir.”
“No kidding. I meant what—” I trailed off when I stepped into the lounge.
The couch’s armrest, where I’d laid my head during my “vacation,” now had a bullet hole in it that hadn’t been there before.
As the engines rumbled beneath me, knocking me off balance, I shook my head in disdain. Whoever that was down there, he'd set me up. This hadn’t been a mission at all. There had been nothing to pick up and nothing to deliver.
I needed to figure out who he was and why he wanted me dead. I was good at my job, sure, but not well-known enough to have any sort of enemies who could finagle a complex assassination attempt like that.
Moreover, I didn't have anyone who would want me dead that badly. At least no one that I knew of.
I left the bullet behind and headed to the cockpit. As I sank into the pilot's seat and grabbed the controls, I started to wonder if the recent digging into the Decker job wasn't from one of his many enemies at all.
Maybe that jackass was telling the truth when I’d captured him. He’d said I was in deep shit, and that I didn’t even know how bad it would be for me to detain him.
Now, it seemed like he had been absolutely right.
9
I’d survived an assassination attempt by a nameless hitman, and I only had one mission from here: stay alive.
Now, I didn’t have much in the way of an upper hand at the moment. In fact, I didn’t have many choices at all. There were only a few options for me going forward.
One—gather intel and fight back.
Or, two—hide.
I’d never much cared for the coward’s life. Retreat was fine. Hiding from my problems was not.
Before
I could confront this guy, I had to do some digging. Getting intel meant scouring the gal-net and Renegade net for whatever information I could find on who this guy was and what he wanted with me. On the way back to Taurus Station, Sigmond and I had already searched what little data the ship’s scanners had gathered on the guy.
It had been a fruitless exercise.
My next line of defense, of course, was Ollie. He had sent me a transmission on my way back. It had been a short recording, nothing more than a quick call me back, and he hadn’t answered my replies. All he’d said was that he had had some info on the Decker job, and after my near-death experience, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.
Nor did I like his stony silence for the entirety of my trip back to the station. It made me wonder if I was going to walk into his shop and see him dead, taken out by an angry tourist.
When I finally got back to the Taurus Station, I kept a low profile, taking back routes as much as possible, keeping to the less-monitored sections of the station in case this guy could trace me back here. Aside from the Renegade Star, the station was my home base, so I figured it wouldn’t be much of a leap to assume I’d come back.
It was a risk, of course, coming back to Taurus Station, but transmissions could be intercepted. I didn’t know what kind of tech this guy had access to, and I had to stay ahead of him. That meant I needed to talk to Ollie face-to-face. Whatever data I gathered, I needed to ensure no one else knew of it.
As I walked through the back alley behind Ollie's shop, my mind was racing. I’d just had a near-death experience with someone who hadn't even paused long enough to tell me his name, much less what he had wanted.
Well, he had wanted me dead. That much was clear, but nothing else about this encounter made sense.
The alley behind Ollie’s shop was dark and a bit dank as I neared the entrance to his workroom. I eyed the tags beside each door, counting down to his store number under my breath as I tracked my route. I passed two clothing shops and a bar, tense and eager to hash this out.