by G J Ogden
“None of your bent buddies are here to help you now, clobber,” he said, edging closer to Hudson, fist pulled back, ready to strike. “RGF scumbags have stolen plenty from us in the past, so I’m gonna enjoy getting my money’s worth outta you.”
Wilkes stepped towards him and threw a swift cross with his armored fist, but Hudson managed to dodge it without trouble. He then blocked a follow up strike from Wilkes’ other fist. Either the alcohol was wearing off, or it had dulled his senses just enough that he wasn’t overthinking the fight.
Hudson countered by snapping a quick jab of his own into the bald man’s nose, which was enough to give him pause. The sound of metal clanking against metal then resonated down the alleyway. Hudson could hear yells and cries of exertion and pain, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Wilkes.
“I didn’t steal anything from you,” said Hudson, feigning an attack and drawing Wilkes forward. The bald man swung a hard cross that whistled past so close Hudson felt the air rush past his face. However, the miss had also left Wilkes vulnerable. Taking full advantage, Hudson hammered a punch into Wilkes’ kidneys, sending the man reeling back into the wall of a rusted shipping container. This was just one of dozens that were stacked high, lining Heide Street all the way down to the hostel. It was one reason why the street was bad news – too many alleys, and not enough ways to escape trouble should it find you, or you find it.
Wilkes roared and rebounded towards Hudson, flashing punches and forcing him to backpedal and defend. The metal of the knuckle duster clipped his shoulder, and Hudson bit down against the pain. Luckily, it was just a glancing blow and not enough to shatter bone.
Adrenalin mixed with fear had combined to clear Hudson’s head. Added to this was a powerful surge of anger, caused by being punched with a weapon that belonged in ancient history. Hudson was suddenly filled with resolve. All the frustration of the last few weeks – the constant jibes by Griff and the mocking, condescension from Wash – suddenly poured out of him like a pan boiling over. He grabbed the lapels of Wilkes’ thin cotton jacket and charged him back against the container wall. The bald man slammed into the metal with such force that it felt like the entire stack wobbled from the impact. Wilkes lashed out again, but Hudson blocked the blow and then drove his forearm into Wilkes’ nose. It connected sweetly, making a hollow crunching sound. Wilkes barely had time to process the sensation before Hudson had driven a knee sharply up into the man’s groin. It was a move no less vulgar than his adversary’s employment of a brass knuckle, but it was just as effective. Wilkes dropped to the ground faster than a broken elevator.
Hudson sucked in gulps of air, again tasting the incense-tainted decadence of the scavenger town in each labored gasp, and then looked back toward the alley. The second of the remaining two men was down, this time seemingly for good. However, the ring leader was still standing, and now he had a knife aimed at Ericka’s throat. She was bleeding from a cut above her eye, but she didn’t look scared; she looked as fierce as Hudson felt, and Hudson was furious. The RGF may not have cared about ripping people off, but Hudson Powell did, and he wasn’t going to let this gang of thugs get away with it. It didn’t matter who they were robbing; this wasn’t about Ericka, or any macho notion of riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress. He was just done with letting crooked assholes do what they wanted and get away with it.
He reached down and stripped the knuckle duster from his unconscious former foe’s fingers and slid it onto his right hand. Sucking in another lungful of humid air, he then set off towards the alley. The whiskey was still lending him some courage, though he was clear-headed enough to know that what he was doing was pretty stupid. However, as others had a habit of reminding him, Hudson had a tendency to make dumb choices. The difference was, this time he no longer cared. If being smart meant walking away when someone was in trouble, or stealing from someone just to make a quota, then he’d rather be a fool. He just hoped he wouldn’t end up a dead one.
CHAPTER 7
The last remaining attacker teased the tip of the blade against Ericka’s neck, and watched as Hudson approached. Hudson measured his steps carefully, not taking his eyes off the man for a second.
“Walk away, clobber, or I’ll slit the nice lady’s throat,” threatened the man. “This has nothing to do with the RGF. You’ll get your cut, regardless, but she’ll get a bigger cut if you don’t piss off.”
Hudson clenched his fist, feeling the metal bite into the folds between his knuckles, and then glanced across to Ericka. She still looked calm, remarkably so considering the blade had now nicked her skin. This had caused a trickle of blood to flow down her neck. Her eyes met his and then flicked down, like a snake’s tongue, before she looked back at her attacker, who hadn’t seen the subtle exchange. Hudson quickly scanned his eyes down her body and saw that Ericka was wearing what looked like a stun ring on her left hand. It was essentially a small electroshock buzzer. It looked like a common piece of jewelry, but pressed against a particularly sensitive part of the body, it gave enough of a belt to stun an ox.
Hudson held up his hands and took a half-step forward. He knew what Ericka was suggesting, and knew what he had to do. Although, like his other recent choices, it ranked pretty high on the ‘dumb’ scale.
“Look, let’s do a deal,” said Hudson, locking eyes on the man. “Ditch your two goons, and we’ll split the profits between us. Then, at the checkpoint, I’ll ‘overlook’ your contribution to the RGF. That way, we both win.”
The man laughed, “You must think I’m an idiot,” he said, eyes moving to Hudson and then back to Ericka. The blade was still pressed against the relic hunter’s skin. “You’ll just stiff me for another cut at the checkpoint. You RGF are all the same. And now all you’re doing is killing her.” The tip of the blade dug a little deeper into Ericka’s flesh and she winced, pushing herself flat against the metal container wall in order to release some of the pressure. Despite Hudson’s best efforts not to react, he also flinched. His eyes flicked from the trickle of blood on Ericka’s neck back to the man. He could tell the mugger had noticed his discomfort.
“No, I don’t think you’re like the others,” the man said, smiling. “You won’t risk getting this nice lady killed. So why don’t you just piss off, like a good little clobber?”
Hudson realized he had to change tactics. Time was running out, and this man seemed determined enough to do what he threatened. The mugger had called Hudson’s bluff, so now he either had to back down, or go all in. And walking away was something he just couldn’t do. Hudson knew what he was about to do was a risk, but he’d run out of time and choices. He just hoped his gamble would work, because if not then he risked getting Ericka – and himself – killed.
“I don’t give a shit about her, or you,” said Hudson, playing the role expected of him – the villainous, bent RGF cop. “So, go on, kill her then,” he continued, “I’ll have smashed in your skull before her body hits the ground. Either way, I win. You should know the RGF always wins.”
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed Hudson’s new threat. Suddenly, he didn’t appear so cocky or confident, and in his moment of indecision, his focus, and his knife, slipped away from Ericka’s throat. Hudson didn’t need to make the first move, because Ericka seized the opportunity to break free. She slid out from beneath the point of the blade before slapping the mugger’s hand away.
Without giving the man time to react, Hudson attacked. Time seemed to move in slow motion as his fist pushed through the sticky air, neon lights reflecting off the scuffed metal surface of the knuckle duster. Hudson could see the fear in the man’s eyes, but fear hadn’t dulled his reactions. Hudson’s fist sailed past the mugger’s head, clanging into the container wall like a butler ringing a dinner gong. The shock of the impact resonated down his arm and he yelled in pain. Then the knife slashed down towards him, missing his face barely by the thickness of a cat’s whisker. Hudson retreated, but he was still vulnerable. The mugger’s hand drew ba
ck again, ready to thrust the knife into Hudson’s chest. He was a mere second away from being stabbed when Ericka rushed forward and jabbed the ring into the mugger’s neck. The electroshock device activated and delivered a ten microcoulombs shock. The mugger convulsed grotesquely for a few seconds while Ericka held the ring against his skin, before she drew back and watched as he collapsed in a heap.
Hudson dropped to a crouch, resting back against the container. He blew out a loud sigh, “I was hoping you’d do that…”
Ericka also dropped low, but instead of signaling her relief at making it out of the scrape alive, she grabbed her attacker’s blade, and angled it towards Hudson.
“So, what now?” she said, hand shaking slightly, “Are you going to try to rob me too?”
Hudson rose back up slowly, keeping a careful watch on the blade, before meeting Ericka’s eyes. “I told you already; I’m not like that. I just had a gut feeling something was up, and followed to make sure you were alright.”
“Oh sure, a white knight in a black and blue RGF uniform,” said Ericka, dismissively. “I’m not buying that for a second.”
Hudson sighed again, this time more out of exasperation than relief, and held up his hands in submission. “Look, believe whatever you like, lady, I’ve had enough whiskey and excitement for one night.”
Hudson dusted himself off, disregarding any threat from the knife being waved at him. He smiled wearily at Ericka, and then trudged back down the alley towards Heide Street.
“You’re actually serious?” Ericka called after him. “You really just came out here to help me?”
Hudson stopped and looked back. “Yes, just like I said.” Then he pointed at Ericka’s leather jacket. “And if you can stand to accept some more help, I’d strongly suggest you declare whatever it is you’re trying to smuggle out of here in that jacket.” Ericka pulled the jacket tighter across her chest, an obvious tell that Hudson was right about her hiding something. “I may not want to take it from you, but the other RGF cops will. And if you try to run through the checkpoint perimeter, which I guess you’re planning to do, they’ll shoot you down and claim it as salvage.” Ericka didn’t answer, but her posture had relaxed and she had lowered the knife. “See you around, Ericka,” Hudson added, with a tired salute, before turning and walking away again.
“I don’t know what it is…” Ericka called out, again causing Hudson to stop and look around.
“You don’t know what what is?” asked Hudson.
Ericka hesitated for a split second and then reached inside her jacket, before removing a short crystal shard. It had the same peculiar mix of metallic luster and glassy shimmer as the item Hudson had caught a glimpse of in the bar. He started walking back towards her, tentatively so as not to appear threatening. It must have taken a lot for Ericka to reveal the object to him. However, despite this unexpected gesture of trust, she was still wound up tighter than an ignition coil.
“I found it on the alien wreck,” said Ericka, momentarily mesmerized by the reflections and refractions of the neon lights in the crystal. “I slipped and fell through a hull fracture into a section of the ship that seemed to have been completely unexplored. I made it out with a heap of good stuff, including this. But then these bastards caught up with me before I made it back to the checkpoint district.” As she said this, Ericka kicked the legs of the lead mugger that she’d just shocked into unconsciousness. “So, this and a few other relics is all I have left. If I declare the crystal, and it is something previously undiscovered, CET might hold it for analysis. Then it could be weeks or even months before I see a dollar of my claim. And that’s assuming the clobbers don’t stiff me out of it…” she paused and looked down, “Sorry, force of habit…”
“Don’t apologize,” said Hudson smiling, “I meant it when I told you I likely hate their guts more than you do.”
Ericka met his eyes again, smiling comfortably and at ease for the first time.
“How come they didn’t find that too?” asked Hudson, gesturing towards the crystal.
Ericka pulled open her over-sized leather jacket and slipped the crystal back into a hidden pocket. “It’s lined with a material that seems to block Shaak radiation,” she said, now speaking much more freely. “It’s a mix of materials that are all pretty hard to find. I stumbled on the combination by accident, after a checkpoint scanner failed to pick up one of the items from my score. It’s only a small pocket, but still helpful for hiding things you don’t want found.” Then just as quickly as her mood had lightened, she appeared to get swallowed into an abyss of despair. “I need this score,” she said, urgently, almost pleading with him. “My brother got hurt at work, lost his job and he can’t get another, not all messed up as he is. He’s about to get kicked out on the street.” She took a step towards Hudson, her eyes now even more imploring. “If that happens, they’ll take his kids. They won’t give them to a scavenger like me, not that I’d be any good to them, anyway. I sold everything I could just to lease a ship and come out to this shithole planet to find a big score. I’ve already had most of it stolen from me, but I still have a few decent items hidden away on my ship. And together with whatever this alien crystal thing is, it might just be enough to bail him out.” Hudson continued to listen, but he already knew what she was leading up to. “I can’t hide everything inside my jacket,” Ericka continued. “So, when I do blast out of here, I’m going to trip the sensor barrier and bring a lot of heat down on myself. There’s no way in hell my crappy leased ship can outrun an RGF patrol craft.”
Hudson had patiently listened to the story, all the while feeling like dirt, because he didn’t believe it was true. Rookie RGF cop or not, he wasn’t naïve. He’d been around enough to have been fed a sob story or ten before. He knew there was a good chance Ericka was making it all up, just to gain his sympathy and help, but this time he didn’t care. True story or fabrication; it didn’t matter. All he knew was that he’d rather this woman keep the new alien relic, than allow some asshole like Griff steal it from her.
“You want me to help you get your score off world?” said Hudson, levelly. “You want me to turn a blind eye?”
Ericka took another step towards him, “Whatever is left of the profits, after I bail out my brother, you can keep…”
Hudson waved a hand at her, “I don’t want your money.”
Ericka frowned, and grabbed her jacket, hugging it tightly around her body. “Then what do you want? You must want something. Everyone wants something, isn’t that right, officer...”
“Powell. My name is Hudson Powell,” replied Hudson, “And you can forget the officer part; just call me Hudson.”
“So, what is it you want, Officer Powell?” asked Ericka, refusing to use Hudson’s given name. “You’d risk your job, and even jail, and you don’t want a cut?”
“I just want to do the right thing,” said Hudson, surprising himself with the answer. Ericka raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Hey, I know it sounds dumb and corny, but that’s really all there is to it. I’m supposed to make sure people get their due. So, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Fair enough,” said Ericka, as the second mugger that she’d knocked out earlier started to rouse. “We should get out of here. I’ve got a bottle back in my room at the hostel. We can talk more about the plan there, if you like?”
“I think I’ve had enough to drink for one night,” said Hudson, rubbing the back of his neck. Though he couldn’t deny the offer was more appealing than heading back to his prison-cell room at the RGF compound.
Ericka took another step forward, tossing the knife to the floor as she did so. “I think I’ve had enough to drink too. We could just talk?”
Hudson straightened up; Ericka was now so close that he could almost feel her breath on his face. It was a strange but intoxicating mix of whiskey and fruit gum. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a talker either,” he added. It felt like the short space between them had just become electrified.
“So, let’s not
do any talking either…”
CHAPTER 8
Logan Griff was pacing up and down outside the RGF patrol craft when Hudson finally arrived. He was over forty minutes late for their scheduled departure. Griff had the look of someone who’d just stepped in dog muck wearing new shoes. And as Hudson approached, face flushed red and out of breath from running, he wasted no time in launching into an assault.
“Where the hell have you been, rook?” snarled Griff, “I’ve been here for over an hour, waiting for your pea-green ass to make an appearance.”
Hudson severely doubted that Griff had been waiting for that long, but he was in no position to push back. He’d given Griff the perfect excuse to lay into him, and his asshole TO wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.
“Sorry, I… overslept,” lied Hudson. The truth was that he had woken in plenty of time to make it back to the RGF compound for their scheduled launch, but events had conspired against him. Specifically, those events were waking up, naked, next to Ericka in her compact single-bed rack in the hostel, and being ‘persuaded’ by her not to leave. He hadn’t really required much persuasion, and Hudson didn’t regret his choice even for a nanosecond, despite now being faced with the grim, beanpole-like presence of Griff. His cantankerous training officer could lay into him all he wanted; it was like water off a duck’s back.
“I was banging on your door for a good five minutes solid!” Griff yelled.
“What can I say? I’m a heavy sleeper,” replied Hudson. He was pushing his luck more than he had any right to, but there was no way even Logan Griff was going to sour his mood. The previous night had been one of the wildest and most exciting of his entire life, and he didn’t care about the consequences. In fact, he didn’t care about the RGF at all. They could charge him and boot him out for all he cared. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he almost wanted them to. It would be less messy and controversial than him trying to leave an organization that supposedly no-one ever quit.