Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 6 (The Galactic Chronicles Series)

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  I held my hand out and said, “I am not going to harm you, lady. I wanted you to have these.” I put most of the coins before her on the floor and said, “It’s not a lot, but I hope it helps you to get you and the kids some food.”

  There was utter disbelief in the eyes and face of the woman. Now as she looked up, I saw she had to be about twenty or twenty-five; she had ashen skin and large dark eyes that reminded me of Galmy. She looked at the coins then at me, and I nodded, “Yes, ma’am. I am not sure you understand me, but you can take the money.”

  She shivered and groaned, put the baby aside, and opened the rags she wore, exposing her naked body.

  I stepped back and turned to the door. She would take the money eventually. I had to leave and somehow find a way to contact Fleet Command. I wondered if Wetmouth was born in a hole like this.

  The woman asked, “You give me money for nothing?”

  I turned to look back at her. “It is for you and the kids; I don’t want anything from you in return.”

  “Who…” She stopped and then began again. “Who are you?”

  “I am Eric Olafson.”

  “Lows usually don’t have two names. Skath don’t give Lows money and don’t have weapons.”

  “I am not from around here, lady, and I need to leave now and take steps to make sure I won’t lie the next time I have to say that, but maybe you can tell me where I am exactly.”

  She grabbed the coins and said, “I never seen that much; these are nine twenty-weights. We earn a twenty-weight in a year.” Then she looked up again and realized I had asked her something. “You are in the Sixth Skirt district, just outside the spaceport. We are on the bottom level of the city. Below us are the old sewers where the Subzombs and Light-Shys live. You better stay away from there, stranger Eric; not many that went down there ever came back.”

  I said, “I have no intention to go explore the underground of this hellhole.”

  Her information did not help me much. I was in no real condition to linger, but I asked, “You are not a Skath?”

  There was almost something like pride in her face as she shook her head. “Oh no, I am a Low, bottom Low but not a Skath. Have a place and me and my kids make souvenir bowls, and we get half-a-weight every week.”

  I left her and did not want to know how the Skath lived.

  I managed to get up the stairs without meeting anyone, and after a while, I learned how to keep my leg stiff and walk decently fast without too much discomfort.

  After the stairs, I looked down a similar corridor and an open door to the outside. A Shiss stood guard, holding a spiked club and a wicked curved Vibro saber in his upper hands. His lower arm pair he kept crossed before his chest. The Shiss turned as he heard me coming and barked, “You don’t look like any tenant I know. When did you move in?”

  I had my hand on the Line Blaster and held it so he could see it. “I am not a tenant. Your friend the Ogahr showed me a room, but it didn’t have the ocean view I wanted, and it had one hell of a vermin infestation. Now I want to leave, and I suggest you let me.”

  I had been around Shiss for a while, and Captain Zezz told me much about his species, so I knew this red-throated lizard was agitated by the way he ruffled his throat folds. He held up his lower arms. “If Nugth has shown you in, then that is fine by me, and you can leave, of course. I just wanted to make sure you are not a Skath or something trying to steal.” Under his breath, he muttered in his native Shiss, “I am going to kill you, little human.”

  It wasn’t that hard to pronounce Shiss correctly if you simply kept your teeth clenched and uttered this vowel-free language as if you would eat hot soup. I was certain Zezz was a better teacher than any cortex uploads and said, “You try that, Red Throat, and you are going to see your guts exposed to the night air.” This was a slight variation of a Shiss curse I’d heard Zezz say to another Shiss while we boarded their ship.

  He stepped back and lowered his weapons. “This little human knows much about the Shiss and speaks our language like a nestling. Go, human, and be safe!”

  I went past him, not letting him out of my sight for a second and then went as fast as I could around the corner.

  This was the bottom street level of a towering city; none of the buildings were the size of the mega structures of Pluribus and no city planning had gone into the placement of the buildings, but these were still skyscrapers of many hundred meters’ height. Some looked well maintained, and others were dark ruins; the sky was black and either it was still night, or I had slept longer than I thought I had. I had lost all sense of time, that was for sure.

  The road gleamed wetly, as if it had rained just recently and even out here, the air smelled dirty and foul. I found a piece of dark plastic tarp and fashioned it into a makeshift cloak, in the hope the thing would bend me at least somewhat into the shadows and hide most of my weapons.

  I must have walked for at least ten klicks. The painkiller had worn off, and the pulsating pain of my leg was killing me. I had to force myself to make each step and knew I could not really slow down. Not that I had a clear-cut target or destination, but I hoped that I would find some kind of elevator or stair system that would take me up to the higher levels, where the lighted signs were. One of the hotels or casinos up there must have some kind of communication system, I hoped.

  I was not alone; there were beings of every size and shape, scavenging through the ever-present garbage and waste. Lingering in those narrow alleys, and at all times, I felt as if there were a thousand eyes watching every move I made. I witnessed a brutal beating in one of those alleys, three beings of humanoid shape beat on a tall being that was either a Spindlar, perhaps an Andorian, or member of a species I did not know. The beating was savage, and I heard the wet blows of clubs and the painful groaning of their victim.

  I should have gone on the other side of the street and put as much distance between them and me, but my cursed values of hating unfair situations overtook all common sense. Before I could intervene, another group of five beings broke from out the shadows and attacked those who did the beating; from the few words and curses I heard, friends of the victim. There was no way I would get involved now, and I increased my limping walking speed to get away before they decided to turn on me. Part of me wanted to fight everyone I saw, simply kill everything and everyone in sight and cleanse this cesspool. As I was thinking those thoughts with the still bubbling anger in my stomach, I suddenly remembered my ring. For a moment, I thought it felt almost hot. If I only had Mördaren or that ax I had found. I shook my head, freeing my mind of these strange thoughts, most likely fever delusions caused by the spider poison polluting my body.

  Among all those foul-smelling odors, a new scent wafted across my nose. Seared meat! It was a mouthwatering smell, making me painfully aware that I was thirsty and hungry. This smell banished all my fever fantasies and put me back into reality.

  The smell of flame-broiled meat directed me toward a dimly lit flickering light sign displaying alien writing, mounted over a hole someone had busted into the foundation wall of a skyscraper. A counter had been built across the lower half of that hole. Behind it was an Ogahr, wearing an apron, working a fire grill with strips of meat on a steel grid. Several sod-blackened pots bubbled and steamed on the other side of the wall.

  Skinned animals of various sizes and shapes hung on steel hooks all across the low ceiling of this improvised food kitchen. A dozen beings, seven Ogahr, three human shapes, a Quadiped, and a Togar stood before the hole, talking to each other and eating whatever they sold here out of paper-wrapped packages. Half-concealed by the flickering light sign, I also noticed a crude but deadly looking flamer, mounted on a remote arm. The red blinking sensor over the remote weapon made it clear the thing was active. I wondered how many non-paying customers had been roasted instead of the meat on the grill. I felt into the pocket where I had the rest of the coins and hoped it was enough for whatever they sold here. I probably did not want to know what it was exactly, but a
t the moment, I didn’t care. I did not plan to ask too many questions about the origin of the food.

  Several banged-up looking heavily armored flyers were parked near that group, and they all were painted black and orange, had gun turrets of various weapon systems mounted on their hoods and roofs, and each of those flyers had a lit sign on the roof. The signs switched writing and lettering every five seconds or so and the word Taxi was displayed in clear Union writing in regular intervals.

  I crossed the street, walking toward that food stand, when one of the Ogahr dressed in black leather yelled, “Skath, get away from my taxi if you want to live!” As he yelled, the gun turrets on the nearest flyers swiveled around and targeted me, and I stopped in my tracks.

  The Quadiped laughed throatily. “Maybe he needs a ride. Never turn back a fare, Sigpah.”

  The black-dressed Ogahr yelled again, in my direction, “I only take Polonium, Union Creds. Not the re-cy scrap!”

  “I have money. I want to buy some food, and I need a ride, too!”

  He waved his big hand, and the gun turrets moved to point into the sky. “Come over then. If your money glows, I take it, Skath or not.”

  I stepped into the reddish light from the sign above, and they noticed the H&K, which I could not hide like the other weapons, under my makeshift plastic cloak.

  “He isn’t a Skath, not with this kind of hardware,” the Quadiped grunted.

  The Ogahr behind the counter leaned forward. “Don’t see too many hunters around here, but I ain’t buying Skath meat regardless of the species. I fry only Lum-Lums and Kultis, but there are Bonguu five blocks up toward the district border. They take anything that bleeds.”

  I pointed at the grill. “I want to buy some of that, and if you have water, I’d like some, too.”

  The cook said, “You must be new around here. No one in their right mind asks for water in these parts. I sell Ogahr Brew, but I think I have a squeeze bag of Nul Milk if you prefer that. I don’t know how fresh it is, never had a Nul customer, but I heard humans could drink it.”

  Since the selection was limited and I had no desire to experiment with Nul food, I said, “I’ll have Ogahr brew then.”

  He wrapped a piece of seared meat in a flap of white dough and put it in a round oven made of Duro-Crete bricks and added a few pieces of wood into the fire underneath. “Be ready in a minute. Brew and Lum-Lum Chew, that will be half-a-weight and I only take Polos. I don’t have a fancy credit strip like my taxi friends here.”

  I handed him one of the big coins, and he snorted, “Hunting must be good, paying with a twenty.”

  He handed me a handful of smaller coins, a round plastic bag filled with a yellowish liquid, and then took the meat and dough combination out of the oven, wrapped it in brown paper, and gave it to me as well.

  I went to the side and leaned against the wall so I could keep an eye on things. The plastic bladder had a metal clip that when removed allowed the yellow liquid to flow through a short tube from which it could be sucked. Ogahr brew, so I found, was a flat and extremely bitter tasting beer not even a low drunken man would touch, but it was wet and quenched my thirst. What he had called a Lum-Lum Chew was actually quite delicious. It was a strong tasting very spicy piece of stringy meat inside a bland bread pocket. While I was eating, I was watching them, and they were watching me.

  The black-dressed Ogahr said, “I mistook you for a Skath, but sometimes these hungry bastards do crazy things. Still need a ride?”

  I nodded, “Yes, I do.”

  He directed me to one of the armored and armed flyers and, at his command, the door opened. “I have not lost a customer yet, and my Hoogley is well-protected. So, hop on in.”

  I climbed into the passenger compartment; there was a bare steel seat, and two Neuro Rippers pointed at whoever would be sitting on that seat.

  I heard his voice through a speaker, “A word of advice, hunter, if you so much as touch your guns, I will fry you on the spot. Fare is ten Union Creds per fifteen minutes or two-weight Polo coins.” I saw him turn behind the transparent barrier that separated us and he pointed at a slot below. “First payment is upfront and don’t try to cheat. I don’t take Kerms. Too much of a hassle to fly out to the Kermac enclave and try to argue with those white skins.”

  I dropped one of the bigger coins in the slot, and he grunted, satisfied. “A fiver will certainly do the trick. Very well then, where would you want to go?”

  “A decent hotel.”

  “You’re in luck. My wife’s brother works for a fine establishment. Clean, heavy security, right in the Donheer District and all insurances paid to the Syndicate.”

  The cab whisked up through these artificial crisscrossing canyons while diving underneath crumbling and dark sky bridges. We ascended into a higher region of the city where the advertisement signs became brighter, and the sky bridges were lit.

  After about eight or nine minutes, the cab slowed down before the entrance platform of a hotel with a bright blue sign reading Sleep Save on a Budget Hotel, and two-line blaster armed Ogahr, guarding a heavy-looking steel door.

  The cab pilot turned again and said, “Here we are and be so kind and deposit another one weight; that is the opening door fee.”

  I swallowed what I wanted to say. Arguing with an Ogahr behind a Trans-Plast shield and looking at two neuro rippers was not a good idea, so I dropped another coin in the slot and the door opened with an oily-sounding groan. The speaker connection was still open, and I heard a voice from his Com System saying, “We are looking for a male human shown on this holo likeness; there is a rew—”

  I was already out as I heard him yell, “Get back in now!”

  I ran as fast as my leg let me away from the hotel door across the sky bridge. I had to get some kind of cover before he could fire. There was another sky bridge, about six meters below, diagonal to the one I was on. I prayed to Thor to give me strength and courage, flanked over the handrail, and hoped I could land favoring just one leg and roll over my shoulder to lessen the impact of the fall. I was still in the air as a blaster shot melted the handrail where I just had been.

  Trying to use only one leg didn’t work out so well and the impact of the landing made me feel as if I had been hit by a gigantic sledgehammer, I was certain I heard the breaking of a bone. I rolled over my shoulder and almost tumbled over the edge; this sky bridge turned out to be a service pipe or sky tunnel, and it had no handrail or safety forcefield of any kind. The surface was slightly curved to each side and was made up of slippery metal still wet from the last rain. I almost slipped as I struggled to my feet, hoping the all-terrain soles would still work and adjust to the slippery condition at least somewhat. There was no time for safety; the taxi cab was already coming after me to get a better firing position. I doubted the H&K rockets were strong enough to damage an armored flyer, but I had to buy me a little time, so I turned, knelt, aimed carefully and fired a five-round burst in armor-breaking mode right at the narrow windshield sandwiched between two armor plates.

  The mini rockets peppered the windshield and perforated it. One of the taxicabs guns fired but went at least two meters above my head and slammed somewhere into a wall; the cab went into a steep dive and collided with a sky bridge below me. I limped to the end of the bridge and pulled myself over a railing onto a balcony-type sidewalk circling this building.

  I simply kept on going to put some distance between me and that cab. Who knew if he’d survived or managed to tell someone that he had seen me. Up here were few places to hide, but luckily there weren’t many beings out on foot either.

  How many hours I limped through that strange city, always staying in the shadows as much as I could, I could not tell, but the sky above me began to brighten and a new day was dawning. My leg was completely numb, and my right shoulder throbbed after taking the brunt of the fall, I was sure it was broken. I was at a point where I actually contemplated jumping and simply ending it. What was the point of trying to keep on going? There was no one a
nd nothing on this planet I could reach out to for help at this point although I needed help badly. Then I saw what looked like a dance club with bright lights and expensive skimmers whisking to and from the entrance platform. From a lofty sidewalk, I saw heavy-armed guards and robots, and there a little to the side stood Wetmouth, smoking one of Muhammad’s smoke sticks! My friends had found me! That this could have been any Sojonit did not come to my delirious mind at that point. I balanced across a small ledge on the side of the building to make it from the sky bridge I was on, to that platform and approached the Sojonit. “Oh, thanks, Odin. Wetmouth! You guys found me!”

  She looked at me and said, “I am not Wetmouth; I am Moistpromise. I am a Sojonit but do know of Wetmouth.”

  A robot and a security guard were approaching, but she waved them away and then she looked at me from behind her mask and said, “You are a mess, soldier; you had better come with me!”

  A sporty, pink-colored Mercedes open-roof skimmer came floating to the edge of the platform, and its doors swung open. The Sojonit took my hand. “Get in fast, before anyone really sees us.”

  I did, and she sat down behind the controls. The floater was neither armed nor had it any visible armor, but then I saw the controls of state-of-the-art SII Battle Shield and knew why she didn’t need armor or guns. She gunned the engines of this quick luxury skimmer and pulled it in a steep climb into the sky above the buildings. I wanted to say something, tell her who I was, but everything became blurry, and I passed out.

  Interlude: Newport

  There was no panic among the officers in the hearing room, but most of the ones present stared at Dent. His eyes rolled up, drooling from the corner of his mouth and yet he was speaking and making demands. “Six minutes left before this side of the planet and most of this continent are atomized and all of you with it.”