Guardian Outcast

by G J Ogden

  Hudson quickened his pace again, almost to a jog, keeping the abandoned warehouse between him and the shadows. He scanned the ground around him, looking for anything he could use as an improvised weapon. It might not come down to a fight, he realized, but Hudson wouldn’t be caught unprepared again. From now on, he was going to fight first and ask questions later.

  A cut-off run of copper pipe lay abandoned in a pile of rubble and he swooped down to pick it up without stopping. Gripping the bar tightly he stepped up another gear and fixed his attention on the end of the wall, which was approaching rapidly. Then, through a crack in the tinted glass windows of the warehouse, he saw the shapes flash past again. They were running across the top side of the building to where Hudson would soon emerge. His heart thumped in his chest, but this time he wouldn’t be caught off guard, not like he had been by Griff in the CET presidio. Giving himself over to pure, gut instinct, Hudson charged ahead in the hope of cutting off their ambush. Then just as he reached the top end of the warehouse a man darted out, weapon raised, and Hudson recognized him immediately as Cutler Wendell.

  Cutler’s eyes grew wide as the copper pipe swung towards him and then slashed down across the side of his head. It made a crisp, almost musical chime as it connected with his skull. Cutler fell hard and the pistol tumbled from his hand, but his accomplice was only a fraction of a second behind. Adrenalin was pumping through Hudson’s veins, heightening his reactions and speed. No sooner had the bar rung against Cutler’s head than he’d swung it towards the second attacker. Cutler’s accomplice, face shrouded under a dark hood, raised a forearm just in time to block the brunt of the blow. Quick reactions saved them, but the accomplice was still buffeted back against the wall of the warehouse. Hudson pressed his advantage and swung again, but this time his opponent was ready. The hooded figure dodged the blow and then grabbed Hudson’s arm, trying to wrestle the bar from his grasp. Hudson resisted and managed to push his opponent away, like two attracted magnets being torn apart by force. However, the copper bar had slipped from Hudson’s hand and clattered across the road. He raised his guard and prepared for another round, but then he saw that his opponent had drawn a weapon and raised it at him. It was an antique single action revolver. Hudson frowned, recognizing the weapon, and looked up at his attacker. The hood had been pulled back, revealing her face clearly for the first time. It was a face he’d also seen before. It was the face of Tory Bellona.

  CHAPTER 28

  Hudson lowered his guard a fraction and stared at Tory over the top of his fists. “What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled at her, and then he glanced down to Cutler Wendell, still out cold on the cracked asphalt. The answer was obvious, but he didn’t want to believe it, “Wait, don’t tell me you’re with him?”

  “I’m not with him…” Tory answered, holstering her pistol. She stressed ‘with’ as if to highlight her disgust at the suggestion that Cutler and she might be more than just partners in crime. “I work for him, that’s all.”

  “And I’m your job?” cried Hudson. “So, you’re what… a hitwoman? I thought you were a damn relic hunter!”

  “I am, but I’m also what Cutler needs me to be,” Tory hit back, her eyes taking on a harder edge. “It’s complicated.”

  “But, why? Why are you trying to kill me?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tory, shrugging. “I don’t ask, and I never care. Some pig RGF cop hired him, that’s all I know.”

  “Griff…” said Hudson, the word passing through his teeth like poisonous gas. He dropped his guard fully and straightened up, looking Tory dead in her steel blue eyes. “So, what now, Tory? Are you still going to kill me?”

  There was an excruciating silence that only lasted a few seconds, though it felt like hours, until Tory Bellona finally answered, “No.”

  Hudson felt like every muscle in his body suddenly went limp. Though his pulse was still racing like he’d just run a marathon. “Well, that’s good to know,” he answered, testing to see if a little sarcasm might soften Tory’s razor-sharp edges.

  “Not this time, anyway,” Tory added darkly, not responding to Hudson’s attempt to lighten the mood. “I owe you for Brahms Three. Rex would have cut me down, given half a chance, but you stopped him. That’s something I won’t forget.” Hudson was about to speak up again, but Tory wasn’t done. “But don’t get any ideas, mister. I owe Cutler more than I owe you, and he won’t let this slide. Especially now you’ve made him look like a damn fool, not once, but twice.”

  Hudson rubbed his chin wearily and nodded. It was clear that this wasn’t going to be the last time he dealt with Cutler Wendell.

  “So, when he wakes up, is he just coming straight after me again?” asked Hudson, glancing at Cutler to make sure he was still out cold.

  “Not straight away, no,” answered Tory. “We have other places we need to be.”

  Hudson raised an eyebrow, “A hitwoman’s work is never done, eh?”

  This time there was the faintest quiver of movement at the corner of Tory’s mouth. However, if she had found Hudson’s retort amusing, she was trying hard not to show it.

  “He’ll lick his wounds for a time,” Tory went on, “but he won’t forget, I promise you that.”

  “And when he does eventually come after me again, will you be with him?” asked Hudson. He wasn’t sure whether he was asking because he wanted to see Tory again or because he didn’t. The fact this made Hudson feel conflicted just confused him even more.

  Tory nodded, “Yes.”

  “So maybe I should just kill him now,” declared Hudson. He had used his best poker face, but Tory just laughed dismissively.

  “We both know you won’t do that. You’re not like him, or me.”

  “Seems to me that you’re not like him either,” replied Hudson.

  Tory’s jaw tightened and her eyes grew even sharper. Hudson could almost feel her gaze slicing into his skin. “You don’t know me, Hudson Powell, and you don’t want to know me. I’m dangerous. I’m a killer. And you should stay out of my way, like I told you back on Brahms Three.”

  “From what you’ve said, it seems like I may not have a choice,” answered Hudson, sharpening his response to match. “But – and don’t take this the wrong way – I hope I never see you again.” The answer was supposed to sound tough-talking, but it actually came off sounding the opposite.

  Do I want to see her again? He asked himself, still trying to wrap his own head around what he was feeling. It was like getting stung by a scorpion and then wishing it would scuttle back over and sting you again.

  Tory didn’t respond, but Hudson could see her eyes had softened. It was only by a touch, like a puff of color on a stark white canvas, but it was enough to tell Hudson that there was a side to Tory Bellona beyond violence and extortion. Then her brow suddenly furrowed, wrinkling her satin skin.

  “Who was the man you visited in the apartment block up in Bayview?”

  The question threw Hudson off guard, and he blabbed a response, eager to keep Kelvin off Tory’s radar. “What? What man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Tory’s expression hardened like diamond again, “That was a lie – you only get one.”

  Hudson felt a shiver run down his spine – Tory’s warning was genuinely chilling. He thought for a moment, weighing up whether or not to trust her. On the face of it, a deadly relic hunter turned assassin sounded like the last person on Earth – or any other planet – that Hudson should confide in. Yet for some unfathomable reason he trusted her.

  “Okay, but you have to promise me you’ll leave him alone. I don’t want him involved.”

  “I told you, I don’t make promises,” said Tory.

  “This time, you have to,” Hudson hit back instantly, staying locked onto Tory’s eyes, which burrowed back into his own. Neither blinked, neither wavered, until eventually Tory broke the stalemate.

  “Okay,” she said, reluctantly. “I promise.”

  He’s the brother of so
meone I knew on Brahms Three,” Hudson began, “Someone that your employer killed. I was paying a debt, that’s all.”

  Tory’s eyes narrowed, “A friend?”

  “Fine, she was a little more than a friend,” admitted Hudson, remembering Tory’s warning. “But that’s not why I came here. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “I understand just fine,” Tory replied, acidly, sounding genuinely affronted. “And what about the crystal – did you already know about that when we met in the alien wreck?”

  Hudson had not anticipated this question, and he knew that his poker face wasn’t good enough to conceal another lie. Besides, Tory seemed to have the ability to cut through bullshit like a plasma torch through chocolate. She’d obviously seen Hudson with the crystal, so lying to her would only turn a reluctant enemy into a vengeful one.

  “Yes, I already knew about the crystal when we met. But I didn’t have it at that time.”

  Tory nodded and continued to hold Hudson’s eyes for another few seconds. Then she turned away and recovered Cutler’s sidearm from the asphalt. Hudson felt terror grip him, realizing he may only have seconds to live. However, instead of pointing the weapon at Hudson and firing, Tory held it out towards him.

  “I don’t want that,” said Hudson, relieved to still be alive, but also perplexed by the strange offer.

  “When Cutler wakes up, he’ll want to know why I didn’t take you down,” said Tory. Then she added with a cool certainty, “Because believe me, if I’d have wanted to, I could have taken you down.”

  The macho side of Hudson wanted to argue back, but recent experience had taught him when it was best to simply shut up.

  “So, you’re going to have to shoot me,” Tory continued.

  “What?!” yelled Hudson. “I can’t shoot you, are you mad?”

  Tory pressed the weapon into Hudson’s hand and then backed up against the wall of the warehouse. “My clothing is reinforced, so the bullet won’t penetrate through.” She then stood tall and smoothed down her jacket. It was the same slim-fitting, rugged-looking garment she’d worn when they’d met in the wreck on Brahms Three. Then she pointed to her left side, “Hit me here and I’ll be just fine, bar a broken rib or two.”

  “Are you sure?” queried Hudson, glancing at the spot Tory had indicated. The jacket certainly looked tough, but it didn’t look like it would stop a bullet. “It’s a hell of a risk.”

  “It’s only a risk if you can’t aim,” Tory hit back, “Just shoot already.”

  Hudson raised the weapon, but he was still far from convinced, despite Tory’s bravado. And it was clear that she could see the doubt written plainly across Hudson’s face.

  “Shoot me, damn it!” Tory snarled.

  Hudson gritted his teeth and aimed the weapon, “I’m sorry…”

  Tory braced herself. “If I see you again after this, you will be.”

  Hudson almost laughed, but just managed to hold it together, before he added pressure to the trigger and fired.

  CHAPTER 29

  Hudson sat in a bar in the India Basin, nursing another drink. It had taken a full thirty minutes, plus two beers and bourbon chasers for him to stop shaking after pulling the trigger on Tory. The animal, caveman part of his brain told him to run and leave town. However, he had enough presence of mind to listen to his better judgement. If he ran, taking a flyer or booking a transit out of San Francisco, he’d leave an imprint that Cutler might be able to trace. After all, he’d managed to track him to the city, despite the ‘switcheroo’ that Dex and Nadia had pulled off.

  It was only after his third shot of bourbon that Hudson had the gut-wrenching apprehension that Cutler may have gotten to Dex and the others. Hudson didn’t want to risk calling Dex directly, in case Cutler was monitoring their frequencies. However, he had been able to confirm the registrations of all active taxi-flyers operating out of Ride Spaceport in the barman’s epaper. The cabs belonging to Dex and Nadia were still active. It wasn’t a guarantee that either was still alive, but it was enough to make Hudson feel more relaxed about remaining off grid. Lying low was his best option, at least until he could be reasonably sure that Cutler and Tory had moved on. He knew his reprieve was only temporary; Cutler would be back.

  As for Tory Bellona, Hudson’s aim had been true, as were Tory’s claims about her reinforced jacket. However, the impact of the bullet had still jolted her against the crumbling concrete, almost knocking her out. Hudson attentively checked her over to make sure her injuries were not life-threatening. Luckily, other than a concussion and – as Tory had predicted – a couple of cracked ribs, she had been okay. Hudson had not enjoyed the experience of shooting Tory at near point-blank range. However, he was certainly grateful that he wasn’t going to be around when the fearsome relic hunter fully regained consciousness. The phrase, ‘like a bear with a sore head’ came to mind. Except that Tory was more panther than bear.

  Hudson finished his drink and then held out his hand, palm facing the counter top. The alcohol had finally dulled his nervous system to the point where he had stopped shaking. Dropping some hardbucks onto the bar, Hudson headed out into the street. It was already starting to get dark, but he had another stop-off to make, before he moved on. Move on to where? Hudson asked himself, realizing he still didn’t have anywhere to go. That was a decision that would have to come later, though. Right now, he needed to find a very special kind of establishment. And, unlike the bar he’d just left, with its conspicuous neon sign, this was a place that could only be found if you already knew where to look.

  Hudson had learned of the place in question while auctioning off the alien CPU shards. Helpfully it was only a couple of streets further up towards Bayview. He found the unmarked black door of the quaintly-named ‘Antiques & Curiosity Shoppe’ and pushed through. Inside the compact, eccentric store were floor to ceiling glass shelves. The shelves were packed full with oddities from all over Earth and the portal worlds. Nestled amongst the Earthlier artifacts were some alien relics, most of which even Hudson knew had more novelty value than anything else. However, Hudson also knew that the items and services of true worth in the store were not the ones on display.

  “We’re closed” said a bald man, who was resting on the counter top at the back of the store. He was scrutinizing a silver cube that was about the size of a six-sided die through a magnifying eyepiece.

  “I need you to do an examination,” said Hudson, ignoring the store owner’s curt greeting.

  The bald man looked up, still wearing the magnifying eyepiece, which made one eye appear to balloon up like a boiled egg. “If you’re looking for a doctor, you’re on the wrong street…”

  Hudson was already tired of playing games and so cut to the chase. He reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out the alien crystal. It glistened with an unearthly radiance under the store’s bright lights, as if it was absorbing the energy of every bulb in the room.

  The bald man removed the magnifying eyepiece and stared in wonder at the crystal. It was like Hudson had just drawn Excalibur from the stone and presented it to him. Then without another word he reached under the left side of the counter and pressed a button, locking the door and tinting the outside window black.

  “Seven hundred and fifty for the initial assessment,” said the bald man, with a haughty air of superiority. “Five if paying in hardbucks. And, if you choose to move the item through these premises, I take twenty-five per cent of the final sale value.”

  Hudson snorted a laugh and shook his head gently. Twenty five percent… this asshole’s even more of a crook than Griff. He may have escaped from the clutches of the RGF, but it seemed that when it came to alien relics there was no escaping from money-grubbing vultures. And black-market dealers like this man were amongst the most predatory.

  Hudson approached the counter and placed the crystal on the surface. He then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a clip of hardbucks. He’d already burned through what had remained of Ericka’s stash, but h
e’d taken some of the value of the relics he’d auctioned off as cash instead of credits. Credit scans could be tracked – hardbucks could not. He counted out five hundred, which was most of what he had left, and held it out.

  The dealer took the money and placed it in a metal tray below the counter. He then unlocked a large metal cabinet and placed an assortment of fantastical-looking contraptions on the counter top. He worked feverishly to set it all up, talking excitedly as he did so.

  “I have heard of this crystal,” he began, “word of its finding travelled fast, even from Brahms Three. It was thought to be a myth, or simply lost, but here it is, in my Shoppe!”

  The store owner picked up the crystal delicately between his forefinger and thumb. He admired it for a moment, before securing it above one of the contraptions with a pair of thin metal tongs.

  “Such a find is remarkable indeed,” the man went on, “I already have a theory as to what it may be.” Then he switched on the apparatus, which thrummed softly as the energy built up within it. The crystal lit up from the inside and began to pulse, almost as if it were a living, beating heart.

  “Hey, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Hudson, eyeing the relic anxiously. It looked like it might spontaneously explode, taking him and half of the Western United States with it. “It looks kinda dangerous…”

  “No, not at all,” said the dealer, dismissively, while studying a raft of data flooding onto his computer screen. Then he seemed less sure of his own assertion, “Well, not dangerous to humans, in any case.”

  “That’s hardly reassuring…” said Hudson, starting to regret his choice to get the crystal assessed. He wished he’d spent the five hundred back in the bar instead.

  “It’s putting out a truly phenomenal amount of Shaak radiation,” the relic dealer continued, enthusiastically. “Genuinely, I do not know how this is even possible.”

  Hudson raised his eyebrows, “Just how much radiation are we talking here?” He had instinctively taken a pace back, as if that would somehow offer some protection.