The Boundary Zone

by A. B. Keuser

  Nineteen

  Bad Alley was half asteroid, half space station, and all ugly.

  “You’re sure she’s here?”

  Peezus nodded and tabbed through the scrambled coding that was all that remained of her garbled message. “This is the origin point. There’s no doubt about that.”

  The chunks of rock held together by the orbital’s support connections and surrounded by its gravity inducing spinners looked like some reject conglomeration on the carpet of a small school’s first year classroom. Architecture was not considered. Function and need for space was the main concern, following breathable atmo, of course.

  He pulled out the tracker he’d coded to her commtag--whoever had taken her hadn’t disabled it, but he was getting shadows.

  The docking clamps weren't well kempt and Stacy decided to stay with the ship. Cable didn't argue, since it would do them no good if the ship was stolen or if the clamps malfunctioned and she crashed into the side of the station. The fleet had no jurisdiction here, and he couldn't begin to guess who held power in the constantly shifting hierarchy at the moment.

  The only upside to the trip thus far had been the fact that Peezus was able to find out the Blackshark was still docked. He'd gotten the information out of a gabby flight conn girl with the gentlest prodding Cable had ever witnessed.

  They split. Raza had agreed to take the hit to her pride and pretend to hang on Bezzon's arm, and every word. The Lieutenant had taken it as a sign he was selected to protect her.

  Twisting through the cramped and clogged passageways on Bad Alley was an interesting feat for a man of his size. He stood taller than almost everyone, so his vantage was unmatched, but his ability to squeeze through the crowd was less slide and more plow.

  Shops selling everything imaginable stood on either side of him. Perfume, incense, and spices assaulted his nose. Urchins ran past.

  He moved toward the bay where the Blackshark had docked, guarding his pockets from those tiny thieves.

  Sparks flew as reticulating laser saws bit at metal, leaving a noxious stink in the air. Cable allowed himself a single sour grimace before he molded his face into a mask of apathy. The woman who owned the docking bay shouted orders at her crew, throwing nuts and bolts when one of them did something wrong.

  She noticed him after sending a whole handful of the projectiles through the air as one of her scrap rats cut into the raider's hull in the wrong place.

  She turned a foxlike glare on him and for the briefest of moments, Cable realized she was remarkably pretty underneath the slopping of dirt and grease that was smudged over her face.

  Her voice was not what he expected, gruff and raspy, like she rarely dropped below a yell. "Hey! You're not supposed to be in here. Appointment only."

  "You'll make an exception." He glared at her coldly and watched as her eyes flicked over his face suspiciously, as though she was counting her possible losses. "I want to talk to the owner of that ship. Where is he?"

  "You're looking at HER." She looked almost proud of the accomplishment. "I bought her fair and square, have the paperwork to prove it. Now, if you want to take that up with the governing board, you're more than welcome."

  "Where'd the guy who sold it to you do go?"

  "Not my business. Not my problem. Did he have a price on his head? Him or the girl? Maybe I should have paid less." She looked back at the ship her boys were slowly dismantling, cursed at them and threw a single bolt, hitting one of the men in his welding mask with an echoing ping.

  Raza would like her.

  “What did the woman look like?”

  “What woman?” Her clear eyes were laughing at him. “There wasn’t any woman.”

  Eyes traveling the lines of the shop bay’s ceilings, and glancing toward the other five points that might have held a camera, he smiled and then looked back at her, shifting his coat so she could see the pistol hidden there. "You're sure there wasn’t a woman with him?"

  She paused, glancing over him before turning a toothy smile on him and showing off a poor excuse for dental work. "What's that information worth to you?"

  Cable glared at her and noted the handful of bolts she was nervously shaking in her hand.

  He'd have Peezus work his magic with someone in the security office and see if the little weasel couldn't worm out some information... or maybe get his hands on a surveillance tape or two. Too many people had been blackmailed with footage from this station for Cable to think the halls had suddenly gone dark with a new regime change.

  Blackmail was big business.

  "Tell me what I want to know, and you won't conveniently die in your sleep a few orbits from now."

  Cable knew his threat was worth her moment’s hesitation. It was how the wanna-be mafiosos did things on Bad Alley. If he was a new enforcer, she would not want to fall on his bad side until she was certain he couldn’t carry through on that threat.

  Fidgeting, she looked from her right to her left. "He had a girl with him, unconscious - said they'd gotten in a scrape and they were taking her to the infirmary on the low ring. Said he needed the credits from the ship to pay for the med bills. Honestly, I think he could have sold his crassicau slave and got a better price. But then he'd have had to carry the girl."

  Cable didn't thank her for the information, there was no point. She was probably lying about all or at least part of it. But if her kidnapper did have a crassicau slave, they'd be a hell of a lot easier to find in the security cams.

  Crassicaus were humanoid, though their scaled skin, made them look more reptilian than anything. And if he was a pure-bred crassicau he'd stand at least a head taller than the humans aboard the ship.

  Cable had always wondered about the slavery of the crassicaus. They possessed greater mass and superior strength and dexterity. But they were controlled by simple a leather collar.

  He left the woman to her ship and checked his scanner again. Her ID was there, but the ghostly signal was blocked by something.

  He knew that their skin reacted to untreated leather, the soft tissue under the scales secreted a mucous that had histamine like properties. All someone had to do was slap a leather collar on one and the creature would obey your command in order to receive the soothing daily treatment. It was pitiable.

  Outside the dock, and away from the bolt slinging scrap maven, he found a quiet alcove, tucked away from the bustle of Bad Alley's black market. He had an inkling it was abandoned because of the smell. An overflowing bin three steps away filled the area with the foul, rotting smell of waste. Cable had been through worse in the swamps of Borsant.

  "Hey Commo, please tell me they haven't put in transmission blockers."

  "Nope, not yet anyway. Though you can bet someone's listening in."

  Cable nodded though the commo couldn't see him. "Yeah, I figured. I know I said not to bother your friend on the security deck, but we might be here a little while longer. I haven't found three of the parts I'm looking for. One turns out to be an exotic model, no leather option."

  "Okay, I'll see if they're up for drinks or something, you never know with the hawks. Hey, if you find an crassicau vase, my mother has been hounding me about never bringing her anything... mind picking one up for me?"

  "Sure thing, if your hawk can tell me where they sell 'em, it'll make this whole trip easier."

  Cable cut the connection and moved away from the rot as quickly as he could. There was something to be said for fleet refuse regs. He couldn't imagine the stench on a ship if the scrubbers weren't maintained to optimal.

  He wound his way through the cramped corridors, grabbing a skewer of pakla meat and chewing down the briny, seared flesh. He watched everyone, gauged their reaction to him, their reaction to each other.

  He found Raza and Bezzon three sections down. The latter was trying to smooth talk a decrepit crassicau female. Her leather collar was wide, covering all of her neck and dipping down onto her chest, covering the race's three distinct rows of collar bones.

  There
was a stall half way back down the way he'd come that sold medicinal supplies. There, he bought the only bribe that would work for a crassicau. Leather weary as that one looked, Cable had a feeling she'd tell them whatever Bezzon thought she was holding back, and if not, he didn't begrudge her a small amount of relief.

  He paid the ridiculous price the vendor asked, and returned to Bezzon and Raza. The crassicau female was standing now, her clawed fingers splayed across the booth's table, her teeth bared at Bezzon.

  "Forgive my friend. He's afflicted with an incurable idiocy. I should put him down, but he's my cousin's kid and you know how it is with family."

  Her snarl softened as she studied him, her long ellipsoid pupils darting to his face and over his shoulder. "Even family must sometimes be sacrificed for the honor of the clan."

  "I'd ask you to tell that to his mother, but we both know she wouldn't listen." Cable slid the vial along the booth top and caught her suspicion as she looked over her shoulder - for her master no doubt.

  "I do not know the thing your friend is asking. I have never heard the name KaRapp, nor Mackenzie Flack."

  "I don't suppose he'd use those names." Cable slid the vial under the long fabric of her shirt sleeve. "I'm looking for a group of three, two humans, one crassicau. The human are a man and a woman."

  "Many people come through the station. I see groups of every size pass through daily." She made no attempt to take the vial.

  "I understand that. The girl was pale with blue-bright hair. She was also, probably unconscious."

  The crassicau’ face smoothed out and he knew he'd struck a chord.

  "I remember them, because they both had the odd hair of which you speak and their crassicau friend, wore no leather, something that has not been done since the days of the Kas."

  Damn.

  Cable nodded his thanks without a word and turned to Raza. “Get back to the ship. I know where to go to get answers, but I have to go alone. It won't take long. Tell Stacy to be ready to blast off when I get back on board.

  He hit his communicator. "Commo, any good news from your hawk friend?"

  "Not great news, she said the particular vase I'm looking for was shipped off station two hours ago. The ship carrying it jumped out of range and I have no way to track it down."

  "I figured as much. I'm stopping by an old contact." He refrained from mentioning the contact was Aaron's. "This could go south, so keep a feed on my comm."

  Cutting the transmission, he stepped into the private lav and locked himself inside one of the stalls.

  Changing the comm's wiring to emit a subspace tracker that wouldn't be detectable without precisely the right frequency was easy enough. Kenzie had taught him - it wasn’t the only thing he'd gotten help from her with when Aaron's skills weren’t quite enough.

  He tucked the comm inside the lining of his pants waistband and returned to the fray. Weaving his way around to the upper sections that were half bored out of the asteroid.

  Vinnita's Place was still open - as if Cable had any doubts - and from the look of things, its patronage hadn’t changed. He'd been to this bar four times with Aaron, each time he left feeling dirty, and not just because his hands were sticky from touching the bar top. They could learn a thing or two from Gunk in the way of making a place respectable... but then, they didn't want respect, they wanted precisely the reputation they had.

  "Vinnie's around back." The bar girl said as she poured three shots of something that looked toxic. "He's been expecting you."

  That didn't bode well.

  After hearing the description from the crassicau female, he had no doubt Aaron had managed to get himself off that damned primitive world... what he was doing styling himself a Ka, and why he'd kidnapped his sister... that was still a puzzle.

  "Thanks." He said it only because he didn't have anything else that would do.

  "Ding Ding, Cable Carr!" Vinnita slapped a table as Cable stepped through the hatch and back into the meager kitchen. "I honestly didn't think you'd show. But then, didn’t place a bet on it, so I'm not half as stupid as you."

  "I take it Aaron's been here?"

  "Aaron? No, couldn't have been Aaron. He's dead, isn't he? If I recall, word down the wire was you were the one who pulled that trigger. Or did you? I'm fuzzy on the details."

  "Cut the crap, Vin."

  "Crap? KaRapp... oh that's right, I did see Aaron just a few hours ago, as it happens. He and his crassicau friend. Between you and me, I'd be happier with the thing in leathers, but he's fiercely loyal to the boy, so what can you do?"

  "What about Kenzie?"

  "Woman who looks an eerie lot like Aaron? She was passed out the entire time she was here, so I didn't catch her name, but unlike you, I don't go nosing into things I don't need to know."

  That was the biggest load of shit Cable had ever heard the mini mobster try to peddle. "Your nose is covered in more shit than half the people on this station combined."

  "Well that's nice. You come to my establishment, looking for answers and all you do is insult me?"

  "I thought insults were your native tongue." He shook his head and spared a glance at the clock. "I don't really have time for this. Do you know where Aaron went, or not?"

  "Of course. Aaron had a special message for you. What was it?" She tapped her knuckles on the table and then looked up with a broken-toothed leer. "Payback's a bitch."

  A gun muzzle pressed against his temple and Cable closed his eyes at the stupidity.

  Things always went south at Vinnita's.

  Twenty

  Mack hadn’t been able to see anything of the ship she’d been brought to. But one look at the room they’d shoved her in was enough to know she’d been utterly wrong. This was not the Curran. She wasn’t even sure it was a ship anymore.

  The floor looked like marble, streaked through with veins of something between gold and copper. A pattern of blood vessels made of bare wire.

  But if it was a ship, she was in some sort of crew quarters. There was a bed for a start, and the second door she’d tried to open--the first was the one she’d been thrown through was locked--was a lavatory unit larger than her cube in the Hive.

  Officer’s quarters, then.

  This wasn’t what she’d expected from Maeltar. Then again, she didn’t know enough to speculate.

  There was only one other door. Like the ones she’d tried first, this was a circular hatch… one that looked completely out of place against the rest of her gilded cell. But it opened, and that was what mattered.

  Circulating air swept around her as pushed open the heavy hatch she stepped onto the terrace, its force shielding glimmered like an oil-slick as she looked beyond it to the dark expanse of glittering stars. The rings of a nearby planet peeked into view at her left, but were cut off by the sheer wall separating her from whatever lie to either side.

  She stepped to the railing, and extended a hand to the force shield. Contact numbed her fingers, but the shield did not let her through as she pressed forward. It was elastic enough to move with her.

  Fleet shielding was unmoving. It would have scorched her fingers if she’d pressed too hard. This was something different… something she’d only ever heard of in theory.

  She’d read about the Ka energy fields. Tensile bubbles that could wrap around a small child or serve as defense for an entire planet… or so the minuscule data on them suggested.

  But if this was Ka technology, she couldn’t imagine where she was, or why.

  She reached out to touch the shield again and found it hadn’t pulled back into place. "Interesting."

  The sound of a heavy hatch closing stilled her hand from further exploration as a cold spike slid down her spine.

  Nrog waited for her just inside the room, his back to the door that was her likely escape.

  The space suit gone, he’d donned a shift similar to the one her first attacker had worn. The fibers fluttered with his every movement.

  “Don’t get too close to the edge
. I imagine the void is a terrible way to die.” He glanced around the room, as if looking for someone else. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  Food wasn’t her first need.

  A way out, and working understanding of why she’d been taken were at the top of her list.

  And Cable.

  Goddess. She couldn’t imagine where he was, or how he’d find her.

  Or if he’d even be allowed to try.

  Buchanan wanted her dead, she was sure of that now. But how she fit into this kidnapping…. Or maybe she didn’t at all.

  Cable had promised he’d protect her, but a promise to the sister of a traitor wouldn’t hold much sway with the fleet. And if Cable came after her on his own….

  She shivered and leaned against the wall, it’s warm, gently pulsing surface leached the cold from her.

  More Ka tech, like a sort of wallpaper, perhaps?

  Whatever it was, she was grateful.

  What she didn't know was the biggest hindrance to her plans. Where was she, and what sort of place was this?

  For all she knew they could be on an atmosphere-less rock hollowed out to make a palace for the never-to-be deposed Queen of the boundary zone. But Maeltar didn’t like to stay in one place for long. Her best hope was a ship. One with a networked system she could disable... one with shuttles in a docking bay she could steal.

  But she hadn’t seen any tech that looked familiar… nothing she could use to get herself out anyway. And that worried her the most.

  Nrog watched her carefully, a scowl slanting his lips. “You will be.”

  He left as she tried to determine if his words were a threat.

  Mack wasn’t the sort of woman who would wait around to see if her captor intended to fatten her up before the slaughter. Stepping back onto the balcony, she silently thanked the gods they hadn't removed her tactical uniform.