Junker Blues: Mars: Junker Blues series

by Lon E. Varnadore

  As Marcus tried to shake his head clear, a drone he had earlier kneecapped with his thrower reached him. Slowed from the fall, he didn’t pull his arm away fast enough. The thing bit down hard on his forearm.

  There was a jolt of pain, and Marcus swore he went unconscious. His eyes opened to find the head of the drone that had bit him cut from the body as a barrier had been set up. Groggily, Marcus looked over to see Grin’s chair was close, with a pair of arms sprouting from the back. Grin’s own arms were encased in green light. He moved his arms, and the two thick, robotic arms reached down to scoop up Harley in an almost loving gesture.

  Meanwhile, Lash hove into view. “Come on, the chair can’t last very long.”

  “Knew the peppermint was lying,” Marcus said as Lash half-dragged, half-carried him to the waiting ship. “Slag, I got bit… Lash, you know—”

  “I know.”

  “Leave me.”

  “Peppermint says he has a cure. Only works in the first fifteen minutes.”

  “You sure?”

  “Seventy thirty…” She said.

  Pain bloomed in his arm anew. He was about to ask which part was seventy, but all he could do was not scream out from the pain. His vision dimmed, and he all he saw was the hangar plating and the boarding ramp of the Eridani ship, glittering in its near-pristine condition. He was pushed towards the medical bay and heard garbled phrases from Grin and Lash.

  “…get to the cockpit. I don’t know Eridani,” Lash said.

  “It has a regulation setting,” Grin said. “I have to look after Harley.”

  “And Marcus.”

  “Yes, yes, the wolfling will live.”

  Marcus looked up as Lash growled and gave Marcus a sympathetic look before she left. He turned as best he could, his bitten arm flaring with more pain. Dammit, I’m not getting the treatment. He is going to let me die.

  As if reading his mind, Grin said, “You are no good to me dead. You will get the treatment as soon as Harley is cured.”

  The ship lurched as it started to ascend. Grin was busy with Harley, who thrashed about on one of the two medical beds. Marcus watched, waiting for his own body to start to thrash and move as it slowly died from the Crawl venom. His arm hurt, as did his shoulder and hand, worse than when he had the tattoo mark flare up and he hadn’t been able to inject himself with the blocking agent. Still, he didn’t feel anything like what he witnessed.

  Grin had the bed restrain Harley, and he took a small tube with a thick-bore needle and jammed it into her arm. There was a silver liquid that started to slowly infuse into her, then her body started to tremble, and then it was still.

  “Grin, I need you up here. That Crawl ship is powering—”

  Lash’s voice was cut short as something struck the ship hard.

  “Marcus, get the treatment and get out,” Lash sent. “You—”

  Marcus gave a short laugh. The cure is being used on Harley. Grin is coming, Marcus sent back as Grin floated by, his eyes pinning Marcus’ for a moment. “I need to deal with the ship. When that—”

  The ship then canted to one side, hard. Marcus was flung out of the medical bed as the ship canted harder and harder to starboard. Grin’s chair whined as he tried to keep level. “Dammit, what is going on?”

  Lash appeared in the doorway of the medical bay. “Ship is going down. You give the treatment to—”

  “No. Get out of the way, tin soldier,” Grin shouted, his chair zipping by her. “I will pilot better.”

  Lash let herself go, skidding towards Marcus. She held onto the edge of the bed as Marcus tried to stand as best he could. “Lash, what—”

  “The Crawl ship, it fired at us as we passed by. Where is the treatment?”

  Marcus looked over to see that the storage unit with the silver gel had been smashed open, the other was mostly depleted and was being pumped into Harley’s inert form. Lash went for her body when Marcus stopped her.

  “No, Lash. She needs it. We need to get out of here,” he said. He looked down at his arm where he was bitten. It had already started to slow. He grabbed an adhesive patch that he slapped on it.

  “What about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I feel fine.”

  Lash looked at him, and he didn’t stop her from pushing into his mind. “You don’t feel like them. Unlike Pauslon.”

  Marcus shivered, thinking back to Deimos. “Yeah. So, come on. This ship is going down?”

  “It will in a minute or three.”

  “Then, we should go.”

  Lash helped him crawl out of the medical bay. Marcus knew the layout of the Eridani ship since they were all cookie cutter models. Though different than Junker with more curved hallways and a strange aesthetic for purple and blue lights that streaked along the corridors in what could be seen as random patterns. And, with a craft this small, there was only the cockpit and the rest of the ship, whereas there was more cargo space on his former ship. though Marcus had heard from his former master they had to do with ownership and status that made zero sense to him. Pushing down a side hallway, they found the escape pods. Marcus slipping in after Lash.

  “Do not think I am done with you, Marcus,” the voice of the Eridani came through his comm and Lash’s. “I will find you.”

  “I am sure,” Marcus said. “But, at least take care of yourself and Harley. She took your treatment.”

  “You didn’t? And you are still yourself?”

  Before Marcus could continue bantering, Lash hit the “eject” button. Marcus did his best to turn off his commlink. The suit had been battered, and there was some damage to it. As the pod’s glider wings extended, Marcus let out a breath, but then one of the wing’s central arms cracked.

  “Are you serious?” Marcus shouted, looking up at the sky. What else can go wrong?

  Lash pulled him into a seat and told him to get in the crash position.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Marcus Redding, I presume?”

  Marcus looked up, bleary-eyed from his position in the ruins of the escape pod, trying to figure out how he was still alive. The two men, wearing sandcloaks that obscured top-of-the-line environmental suits and close-fitting, mirrored helmets over their faces, stood before him. Marcus’ own suit was blinking yellow and red. His suit had a small tear in it, but the suit was sealing it with the last of the sealant gel. He was thankful, but he couldn’t do anything to damage this suit any more or he was dead.

  Their weapons were slim H&K compact throwers, with a small feed of slugs along the top of the compact weapon. These were for use outside the domes, which were off to their left. Which is where Marcus was, he realized. Somehow, he’d gotten to within ten klicks of Arabella City.

  “Good thing we found you first, Mr. Redding.” The voice that came through the line-of-sight was exact and triggered a warning in his head. Marcus heard the slight trip over his last name, the exact same way Hazon always said his name.

  Shit. Lash, hide. You— Marcus blinked, looking around. He didn’t sense her around. Which was strange. He looked at the small glider-pod and at the smoke that plumed at the horizon, where Grin had crashed, Marcus hoped. Hope you die this time, Grin, slaggin’ bastard. Marcus was sure that somewhere, the Eridani’s memories were already being prepped to be injected into his next clone.

  Lash? It felt strange to not have her answer. Dammit, be alright, Spider.

  “Well, Marcus, are you going to come without a fight?” One of the two asked, the same who said his name. “We don’t want to shoot. Hazon gave orders not to. But, if we have to protect ourselves, we will.”

  Marcus held his hands up. “Yeah, I’ll come along.” He glared at them, stunned. How in the slaggin’ pits of Deimos had Hazon found him that quickly?

  In the gyro they flew, a sleek craft in solid black with a small red bird clutching a chrysanthemum as Hazon’s mark. Marcus had no idea what it was supposed to represent. Not one of the underbosses of the Yakuza on Mars, that was for sure.

 
The city itself was a glittering dome with dozens of smaller domes inside, each one having a large central tower that would connect to the top of the dome. Each was a separate mini-city in Arabella City proper, and Marcus knew which one they were heading towards. Even from outside the dome, he could make out some of the green gardens and pagoda-motif of some of the buildings.

  They took him into Arabella City through the main air gate. The gyro was let through without more than a casual scan at the larger airlock of the city. When Marcus was allowed to doff his helmet, he was met by the cold eyes of Kryn and Baller staring back at him; two of Hazon’s enforcers. Both were at least six-foot, trim, and implanted with dozens of blackjack enhancements that disturbed Marcus more than he thought. He had tangled with Baller once, and his wrist still hurt when it was cold from when he’d effortlessly flipped and snapped Marcus for presuming to get close to Hazon.

  The twins stared back with their inhuman silver ovals that took in more of the visual spectrum than humans ever could. With their hair cut down right to the edge of their scalp they looked like rejects from a bad sci-fi holodrama, but he knew better than to taunt them or even try and escape. Instead, he watched Arabella City coast by under him while he tried to formulate a plan.

  How am I going to get out of this?

  “You’ll think if something.”

  Lash? Where—

  “I’m following you. Don’t look. I’m close is all you need to know.”

  You have a plan?

  Lash gave a small laugh. “Working on one.”

  You have a percentage of—

  “Hey, you hear me, scrapper?” Baller shouted, slapping his hand down hard on the arm of his seat.

  Marcus shook his head slightly, looking at Baller and without thinking, “Calling me a scrapper is funny, coming from a chip jockey?”

  The look of shock on cyborg’s face was almost worth the sudden, hard, punch to the gut that doubled Marcus over. He puked up bile and little else. He realized he hadn’t eaten in a while, and before he could say “sorry,” Baller cracked him across the face.

  Marcus tasted blood and shook his head. “I am sorry.”

  “Should be. You have the item the boss wants?” Kryn asked, holding Baller back with a hand. “Or should I let my brother keep going?”

  “Talking to my associate right now about that.”

  They sneered but turned to look at each other.

  “Was that worth it?” Lash sent.

  Yup.

  “You’re an idiot. And, thirty percent of a plan.”

  Let’s hear it.

  When he did, he tried not to laugh out loud. This going to work.

  “No plan survives first contact with the enemy.”

  Thank you, Patton.

  “Who?”

  Forget it. See you soon.

  “Don’t die, Marcus.”

  He smiled. Doing my best.

  The flight was smooth as they coasted towards Hazon’s private mini-city. The gyro didn’t get close to the rest of the air traffic that swooped and moved below them in long lines of gyros and skimmers, moving at a steady pace with mostly remote guidance. Very few people trusted their own reflexes, and since most of the domed cities had advanced guidance buoys and traffic-controlling systems, they didn’t need to. The gyro he was on was being piloted by Kryn, leaving Baller to stare at him with his inhuman eyes.

  “Yes?” Marcus asked.

  “Hazon is not going to like that you came empty-handed,” Baller said.

  “You found me in a wreck. I was trying to get to your boss,” Marcus said. “Relax. My partner will be coming with it soon.”

  The mini-city was verdant with lush gardens, mostly gardens and parks that Marcus had heard Hazon had built to be like the ones from his native Japan. Even the buildings with pagoda-like structures were like the ones of Old Earth.

  They landed on the tallest building, a sleek, black-and-silver one that came to a strange cocked point that shot off at a strange angle. The tip, where the point came together in three thick arms, was rumored to be the mobster’s secret room. Marcus had no idea and didn’t care.

  The two flanked him as they left the gyro on the roof and took an elevator down three large floors. The elevator was a large, glass affair, and the first three floors were filled with modern art and Zen gardens in a hodgepodge-like mixture that made little sense to Marcus.

  Then they reached the main office of Hazon Genzu. An opening of black marble with two large ebon wood doors, twelve feet tall, stood as the only indication anything was on this floor.

  As Marcus and his shadows moved, the door opened to reveal a large reception room. There was a strange wooden clack as they entered. Marcus had forgotten the fountain and the bamboo container. He didn’t understand what it was for and never thought to ask. He was about to when he was hustled past the large sunken circle couch that acted as a place for Hazon to do business. He was brought to another set of doors. These were red with a much larger symbol of the bird and flower embossed on it.

  “Marcus,” the voice of Hazon said as the doors split open, sliding open with a soft whoosh. The speaker, Hazon Genzu, sat behind a giant mahogany desk, dry-washing his hands. “You two, stay outside.”

  “Hazon, I was just—”

  “Where is it?” Hazon asked as Baller and Kryn pushed him forward into the office.

  “Where’s what?” Marcus asked with a small smirk.

  Hazon’s eyes narrowed. “Th item you promised me.” Hazon’s eyebrow raised, and he began to rub at the stub of where his ring finger used to be. According to the story Hazon had told, it was cut off to atone for a mistake he had made.

  “Hazon, I swear it’s nearby. In fact, I am sure it is closer than—”

  “Where is it, Marcus? I did not purchase a stake in your pathetic Junker for—”

  “Pathetic? I will have you know that it was a great ship. Not my fault the MDF took it out.”

  “Ah, yes. Now we come to the crux of the dilemma. Your ship is gone, and you owe me a large amount of money. This item is your one chance to pay your debt.” His finger kept rubbing at the stub of his finger. Harder and harder, Marcus thought he might try to rub the rest of the nubbin off.

  “Hazon, please, you have to—"

  Hazon stared down at Marcus, cutting him off. “Do you think I am a fool?” The man shifted and stood, all six-foot-seven of him. He loomed over Marcus. Marcus knew Hazon was an ex-sumo wrestler and had not lost any of the bulk after retiring, and very little of it was fat. His hands and wrists rippled with the ends of tattoos that flowed up his arms and over most of his body, though the missing ring finger on his right hand was what Marcus focused on. Hazon produced a pistol from his coat pocket and pointed it at Marcus. It was a normal pulse pistol, one that couldn’t harm the dome, but it looked like a toy in the huge paw of the gangster.

  “No. No I do not think that at all, Hazon,” Marcus said, holding his hands up and inching backwards while taking his eyes off the mob boss. Instead, his eyes locked onto the muzzle of the pulse pistol, hoping to ignore the “businessman” who held it. “What is going on here? Why was I detained? I was bringing the item when I was shot at. I was able to extract myself from that situation, and bam— your goons show up.”

  Hazon grinned. “Enter.” When he said that, Baller and Kryn came through the door, let it close, and stood on either side of it. “Someone has sold you and me out to the Martian Authorities then. I am cleaning house before taking off to the Jovian moons. I know you have something to help fund my one-way trip.”

  Marcus’ jaw dropped. “Why would I sell you out? What do I have to gain from it?”

  Hazon glared at Marcus for a moment. Marcus felt his stomach crawl and roil from the hard stare. There was something different in Hazon’s eyes. A loss of control that wasn’t there before. He knew that Hazon always maintained an iron-like grip on things. Yet, the mask had started slipping, and Marcus felt that he was in more danger than he was with the Crawl in the
bunker what felt like days ago.

  “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you?” Hazon asked while leveling the pistol at Marcus’ head.

  “Then you wouldn’t know where the relic is,” Marcus said. Hurry up, Lash.

  “Maybe I can find it without you,” Hazon smiled. “Maybe I find it with your Spider friend.”

  “You don’t want that,” Marcus said. “Besides, I think I know what it is. She doesn’t have a clue.”

  “Oh?” Hazon said, giving him a smirk. “Tell me what you think it is.”

  “Could be a data vault,” Marcus said. He cried out for Lash again in his head. Where are you?

  There was a brightness in Hazon’s eyes when he said that. “And, what makes you think that?”

  “Well—”

  “Remember, you came to me for money. I made it very clear that I owned sixty percent, and you are completely honest about everything. What makes you think it is a data vault?”

  Marcus felt his smile slide on with ease. “It was being protected by TSI.”

  Hazon’s eyes grew wider. “TSI? That is a remarkable find. But, also a very dangerous one. What was the name of the ship?”

  “The Shelby,” Marcus said.

  “Dammit, Marcus, why did you say the name?”

  Lash? Where have you—

  “I am sorry, Mr. Redding. But, I will have to terminate our agreement.”

  “What? Why?” Marcus asked.

  Hazon’s gun took careful aim, moving a little more forward. “That is for me to know, and for you to never find out. Goodbye.”

  Hazon’s door slid open with a soft whoosh, Lash pushing her way through. “You kill him, I don’t tell you where the relic is,” Lash’s robotic voice called out from the doorway.

  Marcus and Hazon jerked their heads towards the voice. She took up the doorway, holding Marcus’ thrower on Hazon’s men and gesturing for them to back up. She swept the barrel to Hazon for a moment, “Let him up,” then swung it back towards the bodyguards. “Or you all die.”