Dependent Days

by Chris Sapp

  “Go away boy, I’m busy,” said Paco, as he continued to thrust himself inside the Mermaid. She cooed with joy as only a professional companion could. Of course, credits was the only way his father could get someone to share his company.

  “Not anymore!” Augusto grabbed his father by the horns and spun him around.

  “What the hell-

  “I challenge you,” Augusto said and then he raked the tip of his horns across Paco’s bare chest. The elder Minotaur screamed and stumbled back. The Mermaid shrieked and darted for the balcony. She dove over the railing and disappeared beneath the black water.

  Paco looked down at the blood leaking from twin grooves in his chest.

  “God damnit!” squealed Paco, “ It’s not supposed to be like this. It has to be official!.”

  “You forced this on me. So now we’re doing it my way. Dropping the charges against Nari is the only way you’re getting out it,” said Augusto.

  “Never,” Paco snarled.

  Augusto charged his father. But Paco was ready this time and he met his son head-on. Their horns locked. Their thighs and calves bulged with muscle. Their hooves dug into the carpet as each Minotaur fought for leverage.

  “God damn you boy!” Paco snarled, “This is illegal without a witness.”

  Every time their horns collided it sounded like thunderclaps inside the small cabin. Father and son danced in a circle and then locked horns again.

  “Doesn’t tradition mean anything to you!” Paco bellowed.

  “Free Nari,” Augusto said.

  “Right,” snorted Paco. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t back out?”

  Augusto ducked and let his father’s momentum carry him past him. Paco spun around with a quickness that defied his age. Augusto kneeled before his father and met the old man’s gaze.

  “Free Nari and I will face you on a day and time of your choosing,” Augusto promised. Paco stared down at his son for a long time. Just when Augusto was sure his father would refuse, he nodded in agreement.

  “You’re right. As a product of my loins you deserve to die with your loved ones watching.” Paco smiled.

  “I expect Nari to be delivered within the hour,” Augusto said, rising to his hooves. Without another word he turned and strode from the cabin.

  MAGNUS

  MAGNUS SLADE WATCHED as Kariah was shoved into the small interrogation room. He still couldn’t believe that the mare that had taken his hand in marriage six years ago had tried to take his life a mere six hours ago. His neck itched from the memory of the ivy tightening around his jugular. He resisted the urge to scratch and kept his palms flat on the metal desk.

  “I don’t know what hurts more, the knowledge of your infidelity or the fact that you tried to kill me,” Magnus said.

  “If I had succeeded you’d be feeling none of it,” she retorted, tossing her head, to get the hair out of her eyes. Her new haircut looked really good on her and Magnus had no doubt that it was probably that bastard Blair’s idea and that made him hate it.

  “With your life hanging in the balance, I’d figured you’d at least attempt to sway my decision,” Magnus said.

  “My ability to sway you died the day the Czar appointed you Interim-Drug lord,” she said.

  “Becoming a Druglord has been my life’s ambition. You know that. I’m sorry if the reality of being a Druglord didn’t measure up to the fantasy you built in your mind.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Kariah said. “Because my fantasies never involved my husband ordering my to murder my own child.”

  “We’ve discussed this. It was defective and unfit as an heir!” He pounded his fists on the desk.

  “But it wasn’t unfit to love! That was our child. I didn’t create it in a lab or in the garden. I grew it in my womb with your seed!”

  “And now another child grows in your womb, with Blair’s seed,” he said.

  “That’s right. Because women like flowers wilt without love,” Kariah said.

  “What are you talking about? I made love to you nearly every night. Even after your moved out.”

  “That wasn’t love and the fact that you’ve convinced yourself that it was shows how twisted you’ve become. The darkness surrounding you is so blinding that I can’t even see the shadow of the stallion you once were.”

  “If the burdens of being a Druglord were easy to carry then everyone would do it,” Magnus said. He stared at her and she meet his gaze. Her gaze glistened with tears and fell to the floor. She took a moment to regain control of herself and then she said, “I apologize Lord Slade, I believe I was summoned her to discuss the terms of my sentence and we seemed to have gotten sidetracked by trivial matters.”

  Magnus could tell that she didn’t mean a word she was saying, but most women wouldn’t have even had the strength to try. It was one of the things he and always loved about her.

  “Indeed. Kariah Slade, Chief Chemist of Slade Enterprises, I have decided to accept your offer. I will allow Blair Hawkins to run the Crucible for his crimes committed against Slade Enterprises, if you accompany me to the Czar’s palace, where we will announce your pregnancy and name the child heir upon speculation that it will be born healthy. If you find that I am asking too much of you then the three of you will be detoxed within the hour. Do you consent to my terms?”

  Kariah swallowed audibly “I consent.”

  “Good. We leave in two hours.”

  IZABEL

  THE FIRST THING Izabel heard when she regained consciousness, was singing. She laid their with her eyes closed and listened. She recognized the song. It was Got Lucky by The Phaes. But it wasn’t her father singing and it wasn’t on the radio. It was being sung live. She opened her eyes. She was locked in a cage inside a shiny cargo hold. Her ankles were shackled. She glared at the blue-skinned man hovering outside her cage. It was Larkin and he was singing.

  “How’d you find me?” Izabel asked. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

  “I worked real hard and…Got Lucky. Got Lucky.” He sang this last bit at the top of his lungs. She cursed herself for walking into that one.

  “Okay! Enough!” She yelled.

  “What’s the matter darlin’? Don’t you miss your daddy?” Larkin asked.

  “How’d you know he was my dad?” She asked.

  “I’m a bounty hunter. That’s what I do.” Larkin settled onto the bench across from the row of cages. She watched as he replaced the wad of Zero G tucked behind his lower lip with a fresh one.

  “How’d you know about the storage unit?” Izabel asked.

  “News flash, Rockstars keeping secret storage units ain’t no secret.”

  Izabel sighed. Conversing with Larkin was about as enjoyable as her monthly period. She could feel the steady vibration of the hull under her feet. They were traveling through hyperspace.

  “Where are you taking me?” She asked.

  “Centropolis. Where else?”

  “That’s a mistake,” she said.

  “Yeah? Well, that mistake is gonna get me paid.”

  “You’re such an idiot. The vid inside that briefcase is worth a hundred times the price on my head.”

  “What briefcase?” He asked.

  “The one I was carrying when you blew me up,” she said. An image of the hoversled exploding flashed in her mind. She saw flames swallowing Jedrek.

  “The Frostfang I was with. Is he…?” Izabel asked.

  “Wolf steak? Oh yeah,” Larkin replied.

  She closed her eyes against the fresh wave of tears.

  “I’m just jacking with you about the briefcase,” said Larkin. He lifted himself off the bench, turned in mid air and raised the seat cushion, revealing his own secret storage compartment. He removed the briefcase and showed it to her. “I saw you carrying it. Figured it was important.”

  Upon seeing the briefcase, she scrambled forward and seized the bars with both hands.

  “I take back what I said. You’re not an idiot,” Izabel said. “Bu
t you have to watch the vid. Please!”

  “Why? There’s nothing on that vid that will make me give up a payday like the one I’m gonna get for you.”

  “Please! It’s the Harbinger-vid. Air it on your show! Please! Larkin I’m begging you. Just watch it!”

  He stared at her for a long time. She met his red glowing gaze.

  “Alright. I’ll watch the shit,” he shrugged.

  “Really?”

  “Why not? I don’t have anything better to do.” He sat down on the bench and opened the briefcase on his lap.

  “God damn, this thing is older than my great grandmother. Just push play or what?”

  “Yes,” she said. The bars were slick with her sweat. She could hardly contain her excitement. She couldn’t believe she had actually persuaded him to watch it. She knew he’d release her once he saw what was on the vid. She bit her lower lip in anticipation.

  “On second thought. I better not watch this.” Larkin said. He slammed the briefcase shut. Simultaneously crushing her spirit and her dreams of freedom.

  “What? Why?” She exclaimed.

  “Because if it’s as important as you say it is. Magnus Slade will pay top credits for it.” She watched with tear filled eyes as he placed the briefcase back inside the storage bin.

  “I was right. If credits is all you think about, then you are a fucking idiot,” she said. He kicked her hand, smashing her fingers between the soles of his boot and the bar. She cried in agony and jerked her hand back. She inspected her fingers. They weren’t broken but they were going to swell up like an ogre’s.

  “Credits is what everyone thinks about,” Larkin said. “The smart take it from the dumb. If you had that mentality you wouldn’t have ended up in a cage.”

  Larkin floated away towards the cockpit. Izabel rubbed her throbbing fingers and tried not to cry.

  THREE HOURS LATER, Izabel felt her stomach hitch as Larkin’s ship descended out of the atmosphere. She was jarred around inside the cage as the cruiser touched down. The back hatch opened and the sound of traffic-jammed skylines confirmed their location. Centropolis. Larkin opened the cage and removed the shackles.

  “Move,” he grunted.

  She walked down the ramp while he floated behind her. They had landed on the rooftop of the police department, which was located in downtown Centropolis. The reflection of the large moon shimmered off the glass windows of the surrounding skyscrapers. Bright colorful lights illuminated the Stadium. San Andreas City was big but the landscape was spread out across the entire planet. Where Centropolis was twice as populated but in an area that was only half the size of San Andreas. Larkin guided her past a row of parked police cruisers. She saw two uniformed centaurs having a smoke. They glanced briefly her way and then resumed their conversation. Her thermalskin, which had felt warm and snug on Arktikus, now it felt inappropriately tight. She felt exposed, despite the fact that every inch of her body was covered. She had never been arrested before. It was humiliating. Especially since she hadn’t done anything wrong. All she wanted was to find out why someone would fake her dad’s suicide. She felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to break and she willed herself not to cry.

  Captor and captive passed through the double glass doors and into the station. A red-headed mare stood behind the reception desk.

  “Izabel Ramsey to see Magnus Slade,” Larkin said, as he grabbed the back of Izabel’s neck and shoved forward. The desk was tall to accommodate the centaur personnel and Izabel had to throw her hands up to keep from colliding face first into the edge of the desk.

  “Lord Slade is waiting in interrogation room number three,” replied the mare. “Take a right and the rooms are at the end of the hall on the left.”

  Izabel heard and understood the directions the receptionist gave them but her feet didn’t want to move. Larkin being the helpful pal that he was, grabbed the collar of her thermalskin and bounced his way around the corner, dragging Izabel with him.

  “Okay. I”m coming,” she told him. She could hear the seams protesting. He dragged her another ten paces before releasing her. A row of cells lined the right side of the hallway. The first three cells were empty. But sitting on a pile of hay in the fourth one was a handsome centaur. He was very fit but he was no dumb meathead. There was quite a bit of intelligence behind his eyes. He was using the corner of his silk vest to polish his spectacles.

  She surged forward, when she saw the tenant of the last cell,

  “Roe!” she yelled, grabbing the bars hard enough to turn her knuckles white. The Fenixborn was lying motionless on his back.

  “That’s the fastest I’ve seen you move since we landed,” Larkin mused.

  “Roe!” Izabel cried again. The Fenixborn didn’t move. Izabel would’ve thought he was dead it if hadn’t been for the smoke curling away from a smoldering wound on his leg.

  “He’s a Fenixborn. He’ll be fine,” said Larkin.

  “Does he look fine to you?” Izabel raged.

  “His condition aint’ your concern. Now move. Lord Slade is waiting,” Larkin said.

  Izabel gazed through the bars at Roe and then forced herself to release her grip and keep moving. The interrogation rooms were on the left just like the receptionist had said they would be. Another twelve paces and Izabel would be walking through the door of room number three, where Lord Slade was waiting. She had never wanted to run so fiercely in her life. But the hall was a dead-end and Larkin was hovering on her heels close enough for her to smell the stench of his chewing tobacco. She was trapped. She had no choice but to accept her fate. With a deep sigh, she opened the door to interrogation room number three.

  MAGNUS

  ELVES WERE TALL, a positive side effect of their morphagen addiction. The average height of males was 6’11. Females normally topped out somewhere around 6’3. According to the height ruler next to the door, Izabel Ramsey was barely 5’8. A runt of her race and a genuine thorn in Magnus’ side.

  Larkin floated into room behind his bounty and closed the door. The bounty hunter was carrying a metal briefcase. Magnus stood behind the metal desk that separated them and glared down at her. The thermalskin she was wearing was in tatters and the tightness of the clothing revealed how thin the girl was. Magnus had never understood the attraction to elves. They were skin and bones. He liked his women to have curves. Something to grab onto in the throes of passion. Given the girl’s thinness, her rear end was much fuller than he’d expected. Whether it was a side-effect of her stunted height or genetics, Magnus could not say. Phaelan’s bastard stopped in front of the desk and looked up at him. Her violet irises met his steel gray ones. She tried to hold his gaze. Failed. Magnus wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t the first nor would she be the last to wither under his well practiced scrutiny. Larkin deposited the briefcase onto the metal table. It clanged loudly in the stillness of the room.

  “Do you know who I am girl?” Magnus asked. The elf remained silent.

  “You were a god damn chatter box on the way over here,” Larkin grunted. “But now you’ve got nothing to say. Answer him.”

  “It’s a stupid question. There isn’t a soul in the ‘Verse that doesn’t know who you are,” Izabel said.

  “I suppose you’re right.” Magnus smiled. “What’s this?” He asked looking down at the briefcase.

  “It’s the reason you faked my dad’s suicide,” Izabel said. Magnus met her gaze and this time she didn’t shy away. He could practically feel the heat of the fury burning in her eyes. How much did she know about what really happened? He had told the Czar that the problem had been handled. He couldn’t risk any information leaking out. He had covered his tracks well. What harm could the briefcase possibly contain? Magnus reached to unclasp the briefcase and Larkin surged forward and put his hand on top of the case. The bounty hunter was suspended in the air and all of his weight was pressing down on the case. He looked at Magnus.

  “I don’t have any idea what’s in here,” Larkin said. “ But if it’s as important
as she thinks it is. I want a recovery fee.”

  “Of course,” Magnus said. Larkin pushed himself off and retreated back to the corner. Magnus popped the latches on the briefcase, raised the lid, and saw a relic of technology. It was an original data pad. One of the first ones every built.

  “What is this?” He asked.

  “Some kind of vid. An old one,” Larkin answered.

  “I thought you said you had no idea what was in the case?” Magnus asked.

  “I mighta peeked,” Larkin said.

  “Did your peak turn into a full viewing?” Magnus asked.

  “Naw. I figured you’d want to see it first,” said Larkin. Magnus glanced at the elf’s face to see if her reactions revealed a lie behind Larkin’s words. He saw no hint of deception. The bounty hunter seemed to be telling the truth. Larkin turned and spit in the corner. The room was so quiet Magnus heard the wad of juicy chew hit the floor. Magnus’s finger hovered over the play button. He glanced at Izabel. She was holding her breath and sweat was beginning to bead on her brow. Why? What was making her so nervous? Was it the content of the vid? Or was it something else? Maybe this ancient datapad was actually a crude bomb in disguise and once he pressed play the whole thing was going to ignite, blowing him to pieces. With his finger still hovering over the play button, he began to visually inspect the datapad. The more he looked, the less concerned about blowing up he became. The design of the datapad wasn’t the only proof of the device’s age. It was also covered in a layer of dust. Only one button wasn’t covered with dust. The play button as if someone had already touched it. He saw that the dust on the screen had been hastily wiped away as well. This datapad had been locked away somewhere and the elf had found it and watched it. The sweat beading her brow was now trickling down her face. Magnus had no idea what was on the datapac but whatever it was, it terrified the girl. He pressed play. He heard the elf sigh as the air rushed out of her tiny mouth. The motors inside the datapad began to whine as they came to life. Magnus began to worry about the longevity of the device. He hoped it had enough spark in the old wires to still play. It did. The black screen gave way to the first image and Magnus’s jaw fell open. Growing up as the heir of Slade Enterprises, Magnus had traveled from one end of the ‘verse to the other and he never seen anything like the two creatures that appeared on the screen.