Shabin- The Reluctant Prince of Rhime

by Andrew Heister

  Bill closed on Ferguson with a tackling dive, frantically throwing punches in the process. Considering how badly Ferguson defended himself, it was now apparent why he’d hired a goon both times he went after Jason. He could fight, but Bill had him far outclassed. While Mark was built like a puffed-up heavyweight champion several years past his fighting days, the smaller Bill was lean, in his prime, and far faster.

  Within seconds they were rolling on the floor cursing, punching, and kicking. The coffee table tipped on its side with a few dishes clattering to the floor. Ferguson grabbed a glass and smashed it into the side of Bill’s head.

  Jason rolled his eyes and calmly strolled over to the bag. He unzipped the case and disappointedly sighed into the emptiness. A wave of dread rolled over him, making his stomach queasy. It wasn’t just an empty bag but an interior missing its reality. Only a vast black void lay inside. He barely took notice of the two men flailing at each other across the room as furniture smashed underneath them. He left the Mirre.

  “Well, shit.” Jason clutched the knot in his belly back in the cabin on the ship.

  Bill arched a brow. “Problem? Did we go already?”

  Jason stared at his hands and shook his head slowly. “Yea. Problem. He switched bags at some point. The blood’s gone.”

  Bill rubbed his chin. “Tell me what happened. Did you find out anything useful?”

  “You looked out the window and told me we were inside…” He scrunched his face, trying to recall the name of the dome. “Only. Umm… Orly?”

  “Orso.” Bill chimed in.

  Jason snapped his fingers. “Orso! That was it. Something about K seven. You didn’t tell me anything more specific than that.”

  “Orso was the second or third dome they built. It’s almost exclusively residential A girl brought me back to her place in there one time. Nothing fancy but it’s nicer than some of the later domes that got slapped together in the rush to attract tourists. If he’s there, it’s probably a place he owns or rents on a permanent basis. K seven is a street corner. I can find him with that.”

  “I think going to him will be pointless. He doesn’t have it anymore.”

  “You sure he didn’t lie to us?”

  “We didn’t talk.” Although, Bill definitely was enjoying himself while beating the hell out of the man.

  Bill waved him on. “Spill it. What happened?”

  Jason described the events of the encounter, including what he saw or didn’t see inside the bag.

  Puzzled, Bill asked, “What do you mean there was only a void inside?”

  “It’s part of how the Mirre works. Everything we interact with inside there comes from the mind of myself or anyone I bring in with me.” His eyes wandered the room. Pointing to a wall cabinet, he said, “If I brought you into the Mirre on the first day we got here and tried opening that cabinet, there’d be nothing but a void inside because neither of us had experienced what it was supposed to look like.”

  Bill flicked his eyes between the cabinet and Jason. “Okay. So what does the empty bag mean?”

  Jason grimaced. “It means Ferguson hasn’t opened that bag, and since I watched him open a bag back on Nephele, it’s not the same bag. He must’ve switched it with someone and hasn’t bothered to open the one sitting in his apartment.”

  Bill pinched the bridge of his nose then vigorously scratched his head, absorbing the information. Finally, he slapped Jason’s knee and stood. “Okay, kid. Let me give it some time to sink in. Get some rest, and maybe I’ll have something figured out by the time we dock to the station. I’ll reserve us seats on a downside shuttle.”

  A sinking depression took Jason, and he didn’t bother to respond as Bill left the cabin. He wasn't looking forward to telling his father about any of this.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It only took a day planetside for Bill to find Ferguson’s address. Eventually, Bill devised a plan but the idea unnerved Jason. It could work. Jason had to give the man that, but it wasn’t something he wanted to experience. Bill would end up doing some rather nasty things and Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with the memories. His father was supposed to be the unethical one.

  “You ready, kid?”

  Feeling a little green, Jason nodded his permission.

  Bill carried a large duffle bag filled with his professional supplies. He slipped it off his shoulder and dropped to one knee in front of Mr. Ferguson’s apartment. It was after three in the morning, and Jason had already checked to make sure Mark was inside and asleep.

  Bill pulled out a very illegal lock unscrambler and connected it to the door. Well, illegal back home. On Alexandria, there hadn’t been any customs inspection. Or passport inspection. Or even a casual government questionnaire for the reason Jason was on Alexandria.

  Just about everything in Bill’s magic bag of tricks could land him in jail on Rhime and most other worlds. Bill described the government here to be a tolerant mixture of business interests. Coming from a world with regulations on just about everything, Jason considered a better description would be — disorganized with a total lack of forethought on the part of the leadership. The place was ludicrous.

  The door opened, and they slipped inside the darkened apartment. Bill set his equipment next to the couch and pulled out a sonic baffler. It wouldn’t be able to stop all sounds from escaping the apartment, but they’d be muted down enough to keep the neighbors from complaining. After switching it on and waiting for the computer to analyze the room, Bill grabbed several sets of cuffs, both wrist-sized and ankle-sized, making sure they didn’t clink together. A metal rod a handspan long came next. With a flick of Bill’s wrist, it extended out to thrice its original size. A blackjack. It was a very old-style of weapon except for the electric-blue crackling sparks coming from the tip.

  “Stay here, kid,” Bill whispered.

  Anything this man was about to do was because of Jason’s direction. As much as he hated it, he didn’t want to shy away from the responsibility. Martin had been certain Jason understood the concept. Good or bad, honorable or malicious, any order he gave was morally the same as doing it himself. Jason bent down and pulled out a small weapon capable of shooting a caustic chemical. “I’ll back you up.”

  Bill tore it out of his hands. “Not with that shit you won’t. I’ve been splashed with it before.” He ran a finger over a shriveled and scarred line on his forearm. Bill reached in and pulled out a long knife — matt-black, heavy hilt that could be used as a weapon by itself, notches along the top edge which probably served some purpose. It was long enough to be considered a short sword but obviously wasn’t meant for clanging against another weapon in some noble dual.

  Bill didn’t look happy to have Jason holding it. He didn’t even want Jason coming along. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Just stay back and look threatening. If we catch him sleeping, I’ll have him restrained before you can swing that thing.”

  They moved into the open bedroom, and Bill pulled another small device from his pocket. Smooshing it against the wall, it stuck. He did something to activate it, and a dim red light suffused the room. There’d already been some light, but this extra illumination made it easier to maneuver without turning on the main lights.

  Ferguson sprawled on the bed, half under and half out of the covers. His peaceful steady breathing was a sharp contrast to Jason’s anxiety. Jason stayed a few steps behind as Bill crept closer to the snoring Ferguson. He fastened one side of the larger cuff to the foot of the bed. It silently slid closed with only a small scraping sound as it glided against the post on its way to the ground.

  Bill took the other end and positioned himself close to Mark’s left ankle which was free of the bedding. Bill gave Jason the three-fingered countdown gesture and nodded to the man. The knife shook in his hand as Jason waited for the ensuing excitement. With a blinding speed he’d come to expect from Bill, the cuff swept under the ankle and clamped tight. The next move was even faster. Bill flicked the
blackjack, leaned over the rousing Ferguson, and smashed it into the side of the man’s head. A shower of sparks splashed out.

  Being the consummate professional, he used enough force to stun the man without killing or even knocking him out. Ferguson flailed wildly and screamed as Bill hit him one more time and then went for the next restraint. Stunned by the brutality, Jason could only watch. Ferguson sat up and yanked his leg against the bond. Seeing the manacle, he punched at Bill’s neck a few times — the last landing hard enough to knock Bill to the ground.

  Jason broke out of his paralysis. Without thinking, he dropped the knife and dove across the man pinning his arms. “You thought escaping me would be that easy?” It came out as a growl. The man bucked and writhed, trying to get the far lighter Jason off of him.

  Bill wobbled and returned to his feet. “Asshole.” He whacked the man’s ankle with his stick, releasing a cry of pain from Ferguson. The bolt of energy was powerful enough for Jason to feel a tingle run through his knee.

  A cuff went around a thrashing wrist while Ferguson leaned in and bit Jason’s shoulder. Jason let out a shriek a few octaves out of his usual register. Using an elbow, he smashed it into Ferguson’s nose. The red light had the running blood looking more like oil. It poured down over his mustache and mouth, leaving it to pool into the beard.

  With half his body attached to the bed, Bill made quick work of the other side allowing Jason to get off the snarling man. Ferguson tried screaming again but was cut short by the blackjack bursting against his mouth. Pieces of teeth were spat out along with another splash of blood.

  “Hello, dipshit.” Bill drawled and straddled the man.

  Jason plopped himself on the carpet, breathing heavy and waiting for his heart to return to a more rational pace. The bite to his shoulder was deep enough to leave marks and draw blood, but at least a chunk of flesh hadn’t been ripped out.

  “′Oo ′ate,” Ferguson said through a mouth continuing to bloat.

  “Oh, we already know you made your drop. You’re going to tell us who hired you.”

  Ferguson shook his head hard enough to cause blood to splatter across Bill. “′Uck ′ou.”

  Bill leaned down close to Ferguson’s face with a smile that disconcerted Jason. The man looked far too happy. “Please,” he snarled. “Resist.” Getting off the man, Bill ran the edge of his weapon down Ferguson’s body. “Mark, Mark, Mark. This could get very ugly.” The point of the blackjack rested on the man’s groin.

  Ferguson’s eyes popped, but before he could speak, Bill’s arm flashed up and down. Jason watched as the metal bar smashed into Ferguson’s left knee with a crunch. More sparks rained down as the device crackled with discharge. The ensuing wail pierced Jason’s ears sending an unsettling wave of nausea through his stomach.

  Bill circled to the other side. He had a sick gleam in his eyes. Excitement. Joy. Glory. “That should put you out of work for a month. Care to make it a double?” He waited for the crippled man to get control of his screaming.

  “′ell ′ill me.”

  “Hmm. They’ll kill you? Maybe. But I’ll do worse.” The arm whipped up and down again and the right knee shattered.

  Ferguson’s body tensed and vibrated with the shock. The subsequent screams sent a shiver up Jason’s spine, and he gripped his own knee in sympathy. He hated this. As much as he wanted revenge on Ferguson, the man could’ve hurt him just as bad or worse and hadn’t. The way Bill seemed delighted in his work made for a sickening scene. It took longer for Ferguson’s unintelligible shouting to wind its way down into whimpers.

  Turning off the power, Bill used the end of his stick to scratch his head. “You know, Mark, everything I’ve done so far can be repaired with enough money and time. This can become so much worse.”

  Along with the still dripping blood, a slick sheen of sweat coated the trembling man. The once composed and pompous persona ripped away, he was blatantly terrified.

  Using the end of the blackjack as a blunt spike, Bill pushed it against Ferguson’s left eye. “Artificial knees are easy. From what I hear, eye replacements can be nasty and have unpredictable results.” The device switched on again, sending a bolt of energy through Ferguson.

  Jason’s father had fake everything but interjections on his part wouldn’t be helpful. He kept quiet, watching the horrifying display with a nauseous shudder.

  The last threat seemed to break something in the man. After he got his body back under control, his face wilted and he spat out, “′Ingate”

  Bill turned to Jason. “You understand that?”

  Jason shook his head.

  Bill turned his attention back to Ferguson. “Try again.” He flailed the blackjack down, hitting an elbow this time but with enough restraint that Jason didn’t hear bones break.

  More shrieks rang out along with some garbled words. Ferguson’s tongue writhed as it explored his destroyed mouth. He spat out some blood. “Wingate.”

  Jason shrugged. “Never heard that name. Who the hell is he?”

  Ferguson spoke through his mushy mouth. “She’s got a company named after her.”

  Bill poked Ferguson’s forehead. “On Alexandria?”

  Ferguson shook his head up and down in manic agreement. He choked out a “Yea,” along with a fleck of tooth.

  Bill went back to using the blackjack to scratch his head and then moved on to using it as a back scratcher. “I think he’s lying.” He turned to Jason and smiled. “You think he’s lying?”

  Ferguson was shaking his head and trying to hold his palms up. “′eally. Really.”

  Bill pursed his lips. After an extended pause, he said, “Nope. He’s lying.” With casual ease, he shoved the end of the stick into Ferguson’s eye.

  Jason heard a brief squish before the room filled with more agonizing screams, punctuated with a pop when Bill switched the power on again. Jason crouched back to the floor and put his head in his hands, waiting for it to end. The sound cut off in a choke.

  Bill had a hand wrapped around Mark’s throat. He spoke with a menacing growl. “If you’re sending us off to chase mist, I’m coming back for the other eye. Think long and hard. Think about how fast we followed you here. Think about all the resources of Shabin Industry behind me. You better believe this kid can find you anywhere.”

  Ferguson struggled weakly but didn’t speak until Bill released his grip. “It’s all true.” His voice was a weak croak.

  “You believe him, kid.” Jason did and told Bill so. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  Jason happily released the Mirre. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. On the other side of the room, the message light flashed in his hotel suite. He knew who it was but didn’t want to talk to the man. A couple of hours ago, Jason had gone to Bill’s room while inside the Mirre. From there, they left their dome and went to Ferguson’s place. Fake Bill hadn’t known the evening’s events weren’t real.

  His stomach clenched with anxiety. The experience sickened him while his mercenary seemed to have reveled in his work. He’d been having fun. Enjoying himself even. What sort of monster liked inflicting torture?

  Did he really want the man hunting down this Wingate person? At the moment, Jason didn’t think he could face him. Continuing to work with the mercenary seemed a foul prospect. He hadn’t been prepared for this. When he went to get the stolen DNA back, it would need to be real, and Jason didn’t expect Bill to be any less vicious.

  Jason sat up on the bed and let the little red light flashing on the phone cloud his vision. Blink, blink, Ferguson. Blink, blink, Wingate. It was almost silly to be upset over a simulated person torturing another simulated person. Blink, blink, chips of teeth. Bill’s look of glee came back to him. Looking away, Jason rubbed his head in frustration, allowing the spots in his eyes to fade. He didn’t move until the knock on the door came.

  With a grunt, Jason stood and went to the door. The object of his dismay stood outside. With a heavy hand, he released the lock and op
ened.

  “About damn time.” Bill looked pissed, and from his bed-head, he’d fallen asleep waiting. “Well, the hell happened to you?”

  “I got a name, but I’m not sure I want you going after him.”

  Bill’s eyes shot up in surprise. “You went without me? No, let me guess. You did your spooky crap with him.” He seemed disappointed.

  “No.” Jason shook his head. “We went together. You were…” His lips tightened to a line. “Enthusiastic.”

  “You quitting on me?”

  “Not quitting.” Never quitting. He couldn’t face the head honcho back home until he resolved this situation. Jason glared at him. “What’s the history behind you and Ferguson?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “Because you were doing more than your job in there. It felt personal.” Seconds ticked by and Jason could see the man creating some fiction in his mind. Perhaps he decided lying wasn’t an option. After all, Jason had weird spooky powers.

  “Kid, you hired me for a job, and I’ll do that job. You don’t need to know anything else about me.”

  Jason tried a bluff. “That’s the third time you told me that. I’m just going to keep rerunning this conversation until you tell me the truth.”

  Bill narrowed his eyes. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Whatever I did in your little dream world wasn’t real, so my hands are clean.”

  Jason stared back at him, waiting for a crack. Nothing came, so he gave up for the moment. He let out an extended sigh. “Someone named Wingate. She has a company someplace on this planet. Didn’t get much more than that.”

  “Okay then.” Bill paced around the room. “I’m gonna need some bribe money to find out anything.”