Odin's Eye

by Kal Spriggs

  “The money is enough, the opportunity to regain my ability to move freely is also amenable, I'm in,” Aldera said. Her cold gaze was clinical, as if she found Mel to be an interesting specimen of bug to add to some morbid collection. Marcus had said she was an engineer and an expert bomb builder, of all things. Marcus's note was vague on why she was on the run, but he'd made it clear the woman had nothing to do with the operation that killed her parents.

  She hoped she could believe Marcus about that, because if she found out that Aldera was involved, Mel would kill her. Just seeing how cold and creepy she was, she could tell that this was a monster in human form. She'll probably try to kill us, she thought darkly.

  “You have a very interesting ship,” Aldera said. The woman was of medium height, with curly dark hair and an attractive, albeit emotionless, face.

  “Thank you,” Fenris growled.

  “I would like to study some of your systems, if I could,” Aldera said. “Particularly your data core. If you're truly self-aware, I'd like to run a diagnostic to see if I could replicate your intelligence.”

  Mel smiled politely and she spoke before Fenris offered to take the engineer apart in return. “How about you, Mr. Woodard?”

  The big man looked up, “Oh, call me Tank. That was my team name,” the big, caramel-skinned medic said without looking up from his study.

  Marcus's notes had said that he was a medic of some kind in one of the Guard Military Forces, but in that he had been even more vague than with Aldera. He looked up, “Oh, yes, I'll do the mission, too.” He had a deep, gentle voice, yet there was something about his posture that made Mel feel uneasy. He his stance was reassuring and relaxed, but his body language still screamed that he was a predator.

  Mel gave a tight nod, “Very well. I'll do a full mission brief now, if you all are ready. We've just heard from our equipment supplier here in the system and it looks as if we can pick up the last supplies we'll need sometime tomorrow. We'll want you all along for that.”

  “Of course, madam,” Claude said with a slight smile. “Please, begin.”

  Time: 1845 Local, 05 September 291 G.D.

  Location: Levant, Pantex Trade Port, Ashe System

  The Ashe system was one of the most populated systems in human space, Mel knew. The system was blessed with no less than four inhabitable worlds, in orbit around the system's three stars. Cobalt was a water world and actually sported the lowest population, despite its excellent climate. From what she had heard, it was mostly a resort world for the system's wealthy, though many of the wealthiest in the Parisian Sector had homes on the most exclusive islands, or so the rumors went.

  Levant was a pleasant world of rolling grassy hills and shallow seas. Most of the system's produce came from the planet, though it's pleasantness was somewhat ruined by the fact that many of its inhabitants were convicted criminals who worked the fields to serve their time. Still, it had a larger native population than Cobalt, somewhere around two billion.

  New India and New Cambria were twin worlds where most of the system's population lived. Most of them worked the planet's factories, for the system produced a wide array of trade goods, everything from ground vehicles to toys. Mel had heard that many of the original workers on both worlds were imported labor, brought in as little more than wage slaves... and their descendants still labored away.

  Whatever the truth, the two worlds had a combined population of just over eleven billion, and they were the central trade hubs for two of the most powerful shipping companies in human space. The two planets both had huge military bases, both on planet and in orbit and a sizable chuck of the Parisian Sector Fleet made berths in those orbital military bases.

  Mel had never had the opportunity to visit the system, despite it's relatively close proximity to Harlequin Station. Mostly that was because the system was the hub for Crawford and Associates and the New India Trade Company, one of the big interstellar trading companies. Their ships dominated trade in the system as well as trade with most of the heavily populated systems of the Parisian Sector. They had a long reach and they weren't afraid to squeeze out their competition through government pressure, price gouging, and even intimidation. Rumor had it that both companies had resorted to mercenaries or even hired pirates to deal with particularly tenacious opponents.

  Her parents had steered clear of the system and Mel had adopted that approach as well. While her parents had had the contacts to work around the big trade companies, she'd had to just avoid the systems they operated in, unless she could find a contract they didn't want, mostly garbage runs that their captains would turn their noses up at.

  She couldn't help a grimace as she stepped off the shuttle ramp into Pantex Trade Port. Officially it was a “Free Trade” port, but that just seemed to mean that it was free for captains of both trade companies. All she saw was a host of them, in Crawford and Associates tan and New India Trade Company blue. She almost felt sick to her stomach as they scurried about. At least the ride down had been beautiful, with glimpses at broad stretches of farmland, orchards, and bright blue lakes and small inland seas.

  “Papers?” a bored customs agent asked.

  Mel gave him a smile, but before she could open her mouth, Claude stepped around her, “Ah, my good fellow, excellent of you to greet us at the ramp. My companions and I are here at this marvelous space port to pick up a cargo...”

  Mel tuned the man's chatter out. She started as a deep voice spoke from beside her.

  “Jean Paul said your last deal with one of Bob's contacts went south,” Woodard, or “Tank” as he said to call him, had come up behind her. For as big as he was, he moved remarkably quietly. “Should we be ready for violence?”

  “I don't know,” Mel said. She glanced around the crowd, the planet was supposed to have excellent security, which was why they prohibited firearms. That had made her more than a bit nervous, especially given the fact that they were here to purchase illegal and possibly stolen merchandise. If they were buying it from criminals, those criminals probably had weapons.

  Bob came down the ramp, his huge pistol on his hip. “So, I'll go link up with Marciano, if you will procure some ground transportation–”

  “I'm afraid not!” the customs man said and pointed at Bob, “Weapons are strictly prohibited, I could lose my job! You'll have to turn that weapon over to me, fellow.” Bob walked up to the man and flipped back a leather wallet. Mel saw the man's face go pale, “Of course, sir. I... I didn't know. Please... I have a family!”

  “Run along now,” Bob said genially.

  As the customs man scurried away, Mel shook her head, “What was that?”

  Bob flipped her the leather wallet. Inside was Agent Mueller's Guard Intelligence badge. “I kept it,” Bob said, “after we boarded your ship. Figured I could get some use out of it. Most people will see it and panic. It's got all the proper codes, so unless they inactivated it, it should populate as genuine even if they scan it.”

  Mel shook her head, “That's just mean.”

  Claude looked offended, “You could have used that before I paid him a hefty bribe to ignore us.” He suddenly looked thoughtful, “You know, we could work that into our routine... shake down some of these crooked customs agents.”

  “Bigger fish to fry,” Mel said.

  Aldera stared at Bob with a cold expression, “You killed a Guard Intelligence agent?”

  Mel's eyes narrowed at that. There was something odd about the engineer's question, one part disbelief and one part suspicion. Did she work for Guard Intelligence, Mel wondered, maybe as an assassin?

  Bob gave the woman a smile, “Nope... well, not that one, Marcus killed him. Mel killed one, but he was secretly a double agent for Guard Free Now. I don't think I really get credit for Agent Roush, either.” His smile widened, “You know, I hadn't realized we were responsible for three of their agents, that's pretty impressive, eh?”

  “Could you tell me which agents?” Aldera's voice was intent.

  Bob's
smile grew a little wider. “Sure! You can come with me to the meet while the others get transportation. I'll tell you all about it on the way.”

  Mel shook her head in disapproval as Bob and Aldera walked away. “Something wrong?” Woodard asked. Mel thought she heard a tone of amusement to his voice.

  “No,” Mel lied. The last thing she wanted to do was complain about Bob telling secrets and then have to explain herself. She just thought that the less anyone knew about their pasts, the better.

  “You don't lie very well,” Woodard said.

  Mel shot him a hard look, “Thanks.” She nodded at Claude, “Ready?”

  “I've already set up a deal for a truck rental,” he smirked. She saw him play with the coin, spinning it through his fingers. “I'll need the money to pick it up.”

  Mel nodded, “How much?”

  “Five hundred up front,” he said.

  “Five hundred?” Mel demanded, “To rent a truck?”

  “Fifty for the truck, four hundred and fifty for them to forget to ask for ID when we pick it up,” Claude said. She had already grown tired of his smirk.

  “Fine,” Mel said. “We'll meet you down the block.” She pulled out the cash and passed it over, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was now alone with two men who she had only met the previous day... and that she carried almost a million Guard Dollars in bearer bonds and cash. Maybe we should have all gone together to the meet, she thought.

  Claude's smirk remained as he turned and walked away into the crowd. Mel nodded at Woodard. “So,” she asked as they walked into the crowd, “You bring a weapon?”

  He held up his fists and smiled, “You mean besides these?”

  Despite herself, she smiled back. It wasn't much of an exaggeration. Johnny Woodard was a big man, tall and with heavy muscle. Despite his size, he moved through the crowd easily and Mel could see that his eyes swept the crowd for threats. She didn't know how, but she could tell that he had martial arts training. Maybe I could get him to teach me a thing or two, she thought.

  “Firearms?” she asked.

  He just gave her a single nod. With his size he could probably hide almost anything short of a rocket launcher, either under his clothes or tucked into the large backpack he wore. She was tempted to ask exactly what he had brought in the huge bag, but she didn't know if she really wanted to know. Marcus had said he was dangerous, after all, and also on the run. For all she knew, he had a collection of severed heads in there.

  “I guess that I'm the only idiot who thought no weapons would apply to us,” Mel muttered.

  He held out a hand, “Wait.” He glanced around, “You didn't bring a weapon?” His voice climbed an octave and Mel noticed the crowd seemed to shy away from them like a school of startled fish. They couldn't make out his words, but his posture and tone was one that screamed predator.

  Mel shook her head. He rolled his eyes, “Come here.”

  He led the way over to an alleyway and then stripped off his backpack. She couldn't see over his shoulder as he rooted through it, but she heard rattling, clinks, and could have sworn she heard buzzing.

  What does he have in there, she wondered. Before she could ease around him to get a peak, he zipped the heavy duty zipper closed and then passed her a pistol in a holster. “That's Maggie. She'll be just about right for you.”

  Mel took the small pistol, for a second, she felt shock at the weight; it was heavier than the automatics she had trained with. She glanced around to make certain they were sheltered from the crowd before she pulled the pistol out.

  Mel gave a low whistle as she saw the weapon. It was a revolver... but this wasn't an antique or a replica, this was a fully modern weapon. It was a Drakkus Tyvex Autopistol, designed for concealed carry. She only knew that because she'd researched this pistol after her parents’ deaths, when she'd been afraid for her own safety. She had later decided against buying one, mostly because of the expense and the fact that they were illegal on most Guard Systems.

  The Tyvex had a snub barrel with holographic sights. The barrel and body were matte black, dark enough that it looked like a shadow in her hands. The grip was designed with smart-rubber and it molded to her hand as she held it. The cylinder was the thickest part of the weapon and it didn't hold any actual rounds. Instead, the cylinder held seven chambers, each with a mix of smart synthetics, liquid propellant, and depleted uranium in flux form. As the sights leveled on a target, the smart gun would analyze data on the target, determine the needs for penetration versus stopping power, and select from one of a dozen types of projectile. As she squeezed the trigger, the smart synthetics would form the round, pulling the depleted uranium out of flux to form the bullet, providing a jacket (or not) as required, and then firing. The rounds it could form were everything from a simple hollow-point that could kill a street thug to armor piercing, high explosive rounds that would penetrate powered armor to detonate inside.

  When the last firing chamber clicked empty, the cylinder would forcibly eject and she could easily slide a reload cylinder into the pistol's frame. Drakkus's Tyvex Ballistics marketed their patented smart rounds as being the ultimate in point and click technology. They were also almost impossible to duplicate, thus far, so the weapons and their smart round ammunition was extremely expensive.

  It was easily the most expensive gift anyone had ever given her. She looked up at him, “I can't take this.” Woodard was little better than a stranger. She didn't want to trust him... yet it seemed he trusted her enough to give her a pistol that cost as much as a car. For that matter, she thought, an expensive car.

  He just gave her a smile, “Consider it a loan, then. Maggie's a good girl gun.”

  “Girl gun?” Mel asked incredulously, “You could stop a tank with this thing if you aimed right.”

  He chuckled, “As long as you don't use it to stop this Tank, I'm all right with that.” He held up his big hands, “Besides, the grip is a little small for me. Should be perfect for you, though.” He pulled on his backpack and gave her a grin, “We should go.”

  ***

  Mel stepped down off the cargo truck outside the address that Bob had given her. She had not been impressed by the ancient, smoke-belching truck and she was even less impressed by the dilapidated warehouse. It looked more and more like operating on the margins of the law required her to lower her expectations. Certainly the fact that the rental company had given them the truck with a mostly empty petrol tank had left her less than pleased, especially given how much it had cost to fill it up. Not that they would use a full tank, but there was a polite note in the glove box about how much they would charge them to fill the fuel tank when they brought it back.

  At least I've got a nice gun out of all this, she thought, though I hope I have no reason to use it any time soon.

  She looked around suspiciously until she noticed Bob. The agent stood silent near the open warehouse doors.

  “There you are,” Mel said. “How come you didn't call?” She started to walk towards him and then slowed as she realized that something was wrong. There was something about the way he stood that set off alarms... and then she saw that he was missing his pistol.

  Mel's hand darted for her new pistol, even as she caught motion out of the corner of her eye. “Contact, left!” she shouted as she dove for the open warehouse doors.

  Bob dove down next to her as gunfire erupted outside. Mel crawled behind the door and then rolled over. Only two meters away a gunman stepped forward as he brought up his rifle. Mel brought up the pistol and leveled the holographic sights on him and squeezed the trigger once.

  Maggie bucked in her hand, yet not nearly as much as she had expected. The bullet struck him in the chest, punched through his light body armor, and then detonated, splattering blood and bits of bone in a spray that splashed on her face. The gunman folded over and then dropped. “Nice shot,” Bob said, as he crawled towards the weapon.

  Mel stared at the dead man. She wanted to vomit, wanted to curl up and cry... yet
gunfire and shouts outside told her that she had to move.

  She rose to her knees and looked around. She spotted Aldera, crouched in the corner. The engineer looked too calm to Mel. Was she a part of this, Mel wondered, or is she just so used to deals gone wrong?

  Either way, the woman didn't try to use a weapon, she just crouched, waiting, as the fight continued. Mel saw Bob take his pistol off the downed man.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, “they were waiting for me when we arrived. I had no choice. Glad you saw it was an ambush.”

  Mel scowled at that. Before she could think up something appropriate to say, he leaned around the frame of the door and fired at someone on the rooftop across the street.

  Mel glanced around the warehouse. She saw a stack of crates in the gloom, “Is that our stuff?”

  “Yeah,” Bob said as he ducked down. Bullets smashed through the rotten wood of the doorframe and pulverized the crumbling old bricks and Mel rolled away from the wall as they stitched the floor and ripped apart the wall.

  Christ, she thought, they're using powerful weapons. Bob grunted as a bullet caught him in the side. He still leaned out and fired again, but she saw blood pump out of the wound.

  Mel caught him as he started to fall and dragged him back out of the direct line of fire and deeper into the warehouse. As she did so, she saw that Woodard and Claude were pinned down behind the truck. Claude returned fire with a small pistol, but Tank had pulled a rifle off one of the dead criminals.

  “Over here!” she shouted, “Get in here, Bob's wounded!”

  Tank laid down a hail of gunfire and for a moment, their attackers ceased fire as they sought shelter from the gunfire. At that moment, he snatched up Claude and then sprinted into the open doorway. Mel wouldn't have believed that the big man could move as fast as he did. One of their attackers stepped out in front of him, but the big man simply ran him down. As he reached some concealment in the shadows, their attackers opened fire again and bullets smashed holes through the walls and punched holes in the metal sheeting ceiling as they fired blindly.