Steel Apocalypse

by Rodney Hartman

  I’m not sure if I meant to compliment or insult her, Jake thought. All I know is that trouble comes in nice looking packages sometimes. I’ve gotta stay on my toes.

  After nodding, Phyllis said, “Oh, I never give anything away for free, Jake. Not even to someone as good looking as you.”

  For some reason, the room was suddenly a little too warm.

  “As it so happens,” continued the woman, “Transporters International wants to offer you a chance to participate in a very selective tournament called Steel Apocalypse that’s held once every ten years. I’m prepared to make you quite a lucrative offer.”

  Jake eyed the woman. “I got my fill of tournaments on Aretillo. I don’t do them anymore, especially if it involves gambling. I don’t gamble.”

  Phyllis stared back for three heartbeats. “Neither does Transporters International. We only bet on sure things. As it so happens, I’m talking about a tournament of a couple of hundred of the best UHAAV pilots in the galaxy. We’re offering you a slot. The top prize is half a billion credits.”

  Jake’s heart froze in his chest. “Did you say a—”

  The woman smiled. “You heard right; a half a billion. Think what you could do with that.”

  Drumming his fingers on the table, Jake glanced around to make sure no one was listening. The few patrons in the place appeared to be going about their normal business. “I used to know a lot about the fight circuits in the galaxy. I’ve never heard of any tournament called Steel Apocalypse.”

  A half-smile crept over the woman’s lips. “As I mentioned, it’s very selective. It’s also very secretive. Winning the competition is quite prestigious, uh…in certain circles, that is.”

  “Steel Apocalypse doesn’t sound like it bodes well for the losers. Is the tournament to the death?”

  Phyllis shrugged. “Not per se. Although there are deaths from time to time. As you can imagine, pitting two hundred of the best armored vehicles against each other while using live ammo has a certain, shall we say, inherent danger to it.”

  Jake didn’t have to do much imagining to know the woman was telling the truth. All cats were dangerous; some more than others. “I find it hard to believe the Intergalactic Empire would condone such a tournament.”

  The woman’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I’d find that hard to believe too. As it so happens, Steel Apocalypse is held on a privately owned planet deep inside the neutral zone, away from the prying eyes of government officials. The planet is owned by Transporters International, or more specifically by my father, Creao Gegorma. Trust me. The tournament is on the up and up. I’ve seen the tele-bot videos of your fight on Thrakis. You’re good. You’ve got a chance to win the prize.”

  Drumming his fingers again to buy some more time, Jake thought of the things he could do with a half-billion credits. Mom would never have to worry about losing the homestead again. Steve and Cathy would be able to go to the finest universities in the Empire. There’s only one little problem.

  Looking at the woman, he said, “Two hundred of the best cat pilots in the galaxy, you say? Sometimes it takes more than skill to win. Luck has a lot to do with it, and I’ve found her to be a fickle little lady at times. I don’t suppose there’s a consolation prize by any chance?”

  “No,” said Phyllis with a smile. “Winner takes all.”

  Pushing himself away from the table, Jake said, “Then I think we’re done he—”

  Phyllis reached across the table and grabbed Jake’s hand before he could stand. There was no smile on her face. “But…there are some perks whether you win or lose.”

  Jake remained in his seat. “What kind of perks?”

  All smiles again, Phyllis drew her hand back. “Well, for starters, my father will give you enough credits to get your Paladin repaired. After all, if she’s not fixed, she can’t fight.”

  Shaking his head, Jake started to stand. “No thanks. I don’t take loans.”

  “Who said anything about a loan? It’s just part of our cost for getting you there ready to fight. I’ll take it out of petty cash.”

  Every cell in Jake’s body told him to leave. An image of his mother, brother, and sister standing in the middle of the rusted metal buildings they called home flashed in his mind. It was followed by an image of the Paladin strewn about the borrowed hangar.

  Jake remained in his seat. “Let’s say I get my cat fixed up using your credits. Then what? How am I supposed to get to this planet of yours? What did you say its name was?”

  Phyllis smiled. “I didn’t. As for getting there, one of our freighters will arrive in three weeks to pick up you and your equipment for transport. I assume you can be ready by then.”

  “I can, if I get the parts I need.” He eyed the blonde woman. “I’ll need my crew. I’ll also need some spare parts. I’m not sure how this Steel Apocalypse of yours works, but I’m guessing I’ll take some damage along the way to winning.”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, I can just about guarantee it. I’ve attended two previous tournaments. The winners have been, hmmm, how do I put it, in less than prime condition at the end.”

  “I’ll just bet they have.”

  Phyllis grew serious. “The risk is huge, but so is the reward.” She pulled a small electronic card out of her breast pocket and slid it across the table to Jake. “Use this to get whatever you need. Someone will be in contact if you get overzealous on your charges, but I’ve got a feeling you won’t be using it to go buy yourself a luxury yacht or anything like that.”

  Jake stared at the card for a second. He’d never seen an ultra-creallium charge card before, but he’d heard of them. “Is this for real?”

  “As real as anything else in this galaxy, Jake. Get what you need. Spare no expense. I just want you to be ready when your transport arrives.”

  Jake picked up the card. “Do you give all the contestants one of these?”

  The laugh Phyllis gave was the loudest yet. “Creator no. Just you, Jake. My father insisted I make sure you attend the tournament. He’s very anxious to meet you.”

  Jake stared at the card again. I know trouble when I see it, he thought. I should hand this card back to her and hightail it back to Aretillo while the gettin’s good. He shoved the card in his pocket. “Any parts I need? And spares too?”

  Phyllis gave a final smile. “That’s right. Anything you need. Credits are no object.” She stood and dusted off the bottom of her pantsuit. “Do yourself a favor. Try the Trillian Astoria. You’ve got my card. Use it. Put your crew up there too. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be worth it.”

  Jake watched the woman go. She had a nice walk, especially when looking at it from behind.

  Shaking his head, he stood and headed for his room. Once there, he packed his bags. As he walked out the door with his gear, he had a final thought.

  Trillian Astoria, here I come.

  Chapter 7 – Invitation

  ___________________

  After a week of living at the Trillian Astoria, Jake was getting used to living the life of luxury. The only thing preventing him from enjoying it to the fullest was the knowledge that his family was barely scrapping by on the homestead.

  If Aretillo wasn’t twelve-hundred light years away, I’d be tempted to use Phyllis’s charge card to catch a ride back home for a short visit. As it is, the freighter taking us to the tournament will be here before I could get back.

  He glanced around his room in the three-bedroom-suite he’d charged to Transporters International, touching the front pocket of his flight suit to make sure the small electronic charge card was still there. It was, but he took small comfort in it.

  It’s only temporary luxury, and I can’t share it with my family. As soon as I get to this mysterious planet of Phyllis’s, she’ll take the card back and that’ll be that. I’ll be living hand-to-mouth again soon enough.

  He shook his head. No, that’s not quite right. If I win this Steel Apocalypse of theirs, my family will be set for life. We won’t ever have t
o worry about credits again.

  With a final glance to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything, he left the bedroom and closed the door as quietly as he could behind him. Stepping into the suite’s common room, he looked around. He spotted part of a gray tentacle hanging over the back of one of the couches, then spied an empty bottle of Austerian whiskey near the corner of the sofa. Round sucker marks were clearly visible on the sides of the bottle.

  Remembering their impromptu party the night before, Jake smiled. That octopod can drink. I wonder if Tilley made it back to her bedroom before she passed out.

  Jake stepped past the bar and noticed Tilley lying on the floor with her head resting on a half-empty flask. She had a smile on her face. Spotting a lap-blanket on the arm of a cushioned chair, he spread it over his mechanic and left her where she was.

  With a final shake of his head, he went out the door and down to the main lobby. Since it was barely light outside, only a few staff and residents were around.

  “Mister Striker,” said a cheerful sounding older man dressed in a red uniform bedecked with more gold braid than a Conglomerate admiral. “Will you be requiring the limo again this morning to take you to the spaceport?”

  Jake glanced out the lobby’s plate-glass windows, to the street beyond. A few pedestrians scurried left and right, but for the most part, the normally bustling sidewalk in front of the luxury hotel was empty. “No, not this morning, Chavez. I think I’ll take a walk to clear my head and then hail a taxi.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Once Jake was outside, he set a path for the city’s main park. He’d only made it a block when he sensed someone walking a tad too close to his right rear.

  “Mister Striker,” said a tinny, mechanical-sounding voice that could only come from a portable translator. “If you have a moment, my associate would like to discuss something with you.”

  Glancing over his right shoulder, Jake saw a four-armed, lizard-looking creature a full head taller than him. The lizard was wearing a black business suit that made it look silly enough to almost make Jake laugh, but the size of the creature’s four arms helped keep his humor under control.

  A Sterilian, Jake thought. What does he want? “I’m pretty busy,” he said. “Maybe some other time.”

  A large presence closed in on Jake’s left side.

  Looking over, Jake saw a twin of the Sterilian from his right. Two large human males dressed in black business suits stepped out of an alley and blocked the sidewalk. One of the men opened the jacket of his suit enough to show the butt-end of a phase pistol sticking out of his belt.

  “We don’t want any trouble, Mister Striker,” said the man. “There won’t be any if you do what we say.”

  A hotshot cat pilot Jake was. An expert at hand-to-hand combat he wasn’t. Coming to a quick decision that following orders was the safest course of action, he said, “Staying out of trouble’s my middle name. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  A mechanical voice came out of the translator of the Sterilian to his left. “Gentlemen? I am a female. Are you blind?”

  Seeing no difference between the two Sterilians, Jake gave his best smile. “And a more beautiful Sterilian I’ve never seen,” he told her, having never seen one in person before.

  Jake was saved from digging a larger hole for himself by the arrival of a hover-limo pulling up next to the curb. The vehicle’s door popped open. Each of the two Sterilians grabbed one of Jake’s arms and guided him to the waiting vehicle.

  With the assistance of eight massive arms, Jake climbed inside the limo and sat down on the rearward facing bench seat. He looked at the seat across from him and stared straight into the face of an angel. The angel had crystal blue eyes, soft blonde hair, and a slim body with just enough bulges in all the right places, all packaged in an Intergalactic Empire dress-white naval uniform. The female naval officer smiled. The effect seemed to make the inside of the limo glow.

  “Don’t tell me,” Jake said. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  The woman’s smile grew and then she laughed.

  She had a very nice laugh. Jake guessed her to be in her late twenties. Maybe she likes younger men, he thought, only half-joking.

  “Hardly heaven, Mister Striker, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  The door to the hover-limo shut, and the vehicle rose into the air.

  Jake said a silent prayer of thanks that the four goons were left standing on the sidewalk. He was alone in the back of the limo with the woman. Even the tinted window between the driver and the back compartment was shut.

  He gave his best smile. “It was meant as a compliment. If you don’t mind my saying, your, err…uniform fits you very well. I can’t say as much for the clothing they issue us in the mercenaries.”

  Smiling, the woman said, “I wear what I need to play the part, Mister Striker. Today I need to be a navy officer.” She nodded at the diminishing figures of her four associates. “I apologize for our manner of meeting, but time is of the essence and I have others matters that demand my attention.”

  Jake’s early warning system went on alert. He no longer thought of the woman as an angel. In fact, he started worrying she might be the exact opposite. He leaned back in his seat, suddenly aware the doors had no visible controls to open them. Not that it mattered. The hover-limo was already higher than the tallest skyscraper in the city.

  He pulled the electronic charge card from his pocket. “Look, if you’re working for Phyllis, I’ve tried to be frugal with my charges.” His face grew a little warm as he remembered the party the previous night. “I’ll admit we might’ve ordered a little too much of that fancy food and liquor last night, but if it’s that big of a deal, I’ll make it up to her.” He held the card out. “Here. You can have it back. We’ve bought all the parts and extra gear we need anyway.”

  The woman laughed. “Keep your card, Mister Striker. Phyllis Gegorma and I are not associates. Quite the contrary. Your meeting with her last week surprised us a little.”

  “Us?” Jake asked. “Who are you with? Military Intelligence?”

  “Does it matter?” asked the woman. “If you prefer to think of us as MI, then that’s perfectly fine with me. All you need to know is that I work for the Empire.”

  Jake’s early warning system went on full alert. After four years of missions with the 57th, he’d had more than his share of missions with clandestine Empire organizations using every letter of the alphabet for their acronyms. They all shared one thing in common. Their agents owed allegiance to their particular organization, and the lives of the mercenaries assigned to them were expendable.

  Stalling for time, he said, “So, err, you know I met with the Gegorma lady. What about it? I’m a mercenary. They offered me a gig, and I took it.” He waved at the inside of the limo. “I’m guessing you didn’t go to all this trouble just to ask me to politely refuse her offer.”

  The woman smiled again.

  Jake didn’t think it was near as friendly as it had been when he’d first entered the limo.

  “No, Mister Striker, we didn’t go to all this trouble to ask you to refuse. Quite the opposite. We want you to go to Lastreo and participate in the tournament they call Steel Apocalypse.”

  “You said Lastreo?”

  The woman smiled again. It was slightly friendlier. “That’s the name of the planet in the neutral zone where the tournament will be held. It’s privately owned by one Creao Gegorma He’s used his wealth to fortify it with some of the most advanced security in the neutral zone. He even has a private navy. It would be no match for the Empire, of course, but like I said, it’s in the neutral zone, so our hands are tied.” She smiled. The smile had reverted back to the less than friendly one. “And that brings us to you.”

  Jake let out a slow breath. The hover-limo had left the city in the opposite direction of the spaceport. Only sparsely populated farmland could be seen below. Glancing over his left shoulder out the side window, he saw what looked like a l
arge body of water coming up fast.

  The ocean, he thought. A perfect place to dump a body. Turning back to the woman, he said, “Look, err…what did you say your name was?”

  Another semi-friendly smile. “I didn’t.” She touched the nametag on her dress uniform. “The suit they gave me says Fisher.” She touched the rank epaulet on her shoulder. “If I’m not mistaken, this in a navy lieutenant rank, so I suppose you can call me Lieutenant Fisher.” Her smile grew more friendly. “Does it really matter?”

  Jake shrugged. “I suppose not…Lieutenant. In any regards, I know when I’m in over my head. All I wanted was to fix my cat and get back to work. This cloak-and-dagger stuff is out of my league. What exactly is it you want me to do? Hopefully it doesn’t involve getting killed.” He tried to smile but failed.

  This time Lieutenant Fisher did not smile. “That is entirely up to you. We’ve had our eye on you for a while, or rather not you, but someone close to you. When we found out the Gegormas had become interested in you after the Thrakis affair, we started watching you a little closer. When Phyllis Gegorma met with you last week, we knew we had the opening we needed.”

  “An opening for what?” Jake said. “And what do you mean by someone close to me? Who?”

  “Who is no concern of yours at the moment, Mister Striker. If you need to know later, we’ll tell you.” She reached inside the flap of her suit coat and pulled out a paper-thin metal cartridge the size of her thumbnail. “All we need you to do is smuggle this onto Lastreo, press the red spot with your thumb to activate it, and your job is done. You can go around and shoot all the UHAAVs you want after that. Win, if you think you can. Accept your prize and go spend the rest of your life wallowing in credits. I doubt we’ll ever meet again.”

  Jake stared at the thin piece of metal in the lieutenant’s hand.

  She held it out to him.

  He shook his head. “No. For all I know, that’s some advanced nuclear weapon that will blow me and everyone else to hell and back the moment I press that little red dot of yours. I’m not going to do it. So if you want to kill me and dump me in the ocean, go ahead and do it and stop wasting my time.”