by Zach Winderl
The young woman fell. With a thud that knocked the wind from her, she landed among the scattered debris and trash. She lay motionless, frozen with fear.
Igs laughed and trundled down the corridor to pounce on his hapless victim.
“Help…” her cry cut short as Igs’ massive hand closed around her throat and pinned her down.
Well-practiced routine guided the giant’s motions as he unwound the electra-bola with one hand and looped it back onto his belt. Then, with a sadistic grin, he flicked out a razor-sharp knife and slipped the thin stiletto up the woman’s pant leg. Looking into the woman’s fear filled eyes, he slid the knife up, slicing the pant leg with exaggerated slowness.
Atom looked on with indifference. Turning his head to look down at Margo, he flipped a control on the pram and a hard shell flipped up to enclose the girl.
“A gentlekin,” the patched man laughed. “This too much for you to stomach?”
“It’s more than I wish for my two-year-old daughter to witness.” Atom turned to his escort and noted a thin, older man creeping around the corner. Atom’s eyes remained impassive.
Patch shrugged at Atom and turned to watch the show. Igs’ knife reached the woman’s knee when a ragged piece of metal struck the giant in the small of the back and bounced into the debris with a clatter.
With a jerk, Igs turned to find a skeletal man charging towards him.
While Atom and his escorts looked on, Igs dropped his electra-bola from his belt and whipped it at the approaching man with a flick of his thick wrist. The bola flew with more power than before and snapped taut around the man’s neck. The electrically charged wires bit and charred through flesh, melting down to bone and then burning white hot as they slipped through the vertebrae.
Igs grinned at the patched man and turned back to his conquest, only to finder her neck snapped in his enthusiasm. The giant stared down at the smooth, doll-like countenance for a moment and then he closed her eyes with contrasting tenderness.
“No fun if there ain’t no sport.” He frowned with childish exaggeration as he rose to his feet and plodded back to join Atom and his escorts.
“You headed to The Crown?” Patch asked.
“Might as well,” Igs replied. “Not much left to do around here anymore. Seems everyone has gone to ground.”
As the caravan pressed through the ransacked space-station, a few stragglers fell in, hard mercenaries, men and women both, who gave Atom questioning looks as he pressed forward with stoic aplomb.
***
The Crown turned out to occupy the top three decks of the station. Atom squinted and tried to picture the inn without the scourge of mercenaries infesting the common room. Pressing through the sonic barrier at the door, Atom stepped into the waft of sound like wading into an oil scummed pond.
Conversation drifted as Atom surveyed the room. Seeing no immediate threats, he cracked open the pram and allowed Margo to look about.
The obvious leader held court from a faux-wooden booth at the back of the room. His presence helped maintain a modicum of order. Atom nodded in acknowledgement of the power. The man nodded back and ran a hand over his bald pate as he stared at Atom with a familiar intensity.
The patched man guided Atom and the pram through the crowded room to where his captain sat.
“This gentleman and his daughter dropped in for a top off and a trip to the springs.” Dark humor slithered just beneath the surface of Patch’s words. “I told him we’d try to be accommodating, but I don’t know how much room we have left in the inn.”
The patched man laughed, but the mercenary captain sat in silence and studied Atom.
“I know you,” said the bald man.
Atom matched the studious stare for a moment before speaking. “I think I’d remember you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And your crew.
“The name’s Adam Wolf.” Atom looked back to the mercenary captain with a tentative smile. “Once an Imp Marine and now just a lonely merch trying to stay afloat in the Black. I’ve a quarter hold of haz-drone brains, so if you have some merch to move, I might be able to work a trade for it.”
The man glowered.
“I checked his manifest,” Patch chipped in. “He’s true.”
“Rolf, scram,” the captain said, waving the patched man away without taking his eyes from Atom. “My mistake, friend, you look like a man I crossed vectors with a while back. I don’t seem to remember him being a marine, but I suppose that could have been overlooked.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” The man rose from his seat and gave a slight bow. “Julien Anders, captain of the Lithium Bear.
“Johansen and Nezumi.” He indicated the two men flanking him at the table. “They’re my lieutenants. If you have any problems with the crew you are welcome to speak with them. We’ve just come off a victory at Wyoh in the Armstrong System and my guns are blowing off some steam.”
Anders settled back into his seat as Atom acknowledged the two other men at the table. Johansen sat silent, focused on his drink. Atom measured him in a glance, bearded and broad, he appeared ready to meet trouble with fist or the auto-shotgun strapped to his thigh.
The other man squirmed, a bundle of energy strapped in a slight, gaunt frame.
Nezumi squatted on his seat, perched and poised to explode as he peered up at Atom with feral intensity.
Without warning, Nezumi launched a cup at Atom’s head. With minimal movement, Atom tipped his head to the side and avoided the incoming missile, only to have a high gauge blaster bolt rip past his other ear and sizzle a scorch mark along the ceiling.
Atom froze, his face a mask of indifference.
Nezumi cackled and bounced on his haunches.
“There’s plenty more,” he sang in a high-pitched voice. “If you like to play. Plenty to play. Play with you. Or with your kit. I like games.”
Atom made note of the hidden blaster strapped to the inside of Nezumi's forearm.
Margo looked at the lieutenant with a puzzled expression and then up to Atom. “Him’s bouncy, da.”
“Johansen,” Anders spoke as if Nezumi did not exist, but he mustered a warm smile for Margo. “Take this merch and his little one upstairs to the private dining room and see that he’s comfortable.
Rising like a mountain from the ocean, Johansen departed without a word. Atom guided the pram after the man, wending his way through the thronging dining room. As they approached the lift, Atom glanced back and found Anders staring at him with a troubled expression. Nezumi crouched next to him like a twitchy stoat waiting to pounce.
Anders' expression gave him pause.
Once the doors closed, Atom’s somber nature returned. Like removing a mask, Atom slipped from the sloppy-go-lucky merch to something more akin to a snow leopard. Just behind Johansen’s line of sight, he measured the man, weighing his options. In the confined space he knew the man’s bulk would play against him, but speed and surprise could swing an encounter in his favor.
From her seat in the pram, Margo began to sing.
Johansen turned with a relaxed smile to listen to the childish ditty.
Atom’s mask returned. The love that beamed through his smile proved true. Johansen’s smile widened as Margo noticed the attention and grinned up at him. The mercenary paid no notice to Atom as he reached out and patted Margo on the head.
The lift bumped to a halt and Johansen turned back as the doors opened. He stepped from the coffin confines into a wide lounge that hubbed a half-dozen radiating hallways.
“You can wait here,” the lieutenant grumbled, gesturing to the lounge.
“What about a room?” Atom asked in dismay. “I planned on staying a couple days and taking a soak in the springs.”
Johansen cast a suspicious, sidelong glance. “Ain’t you seein’ what’s happenin’ around here?” he demanded in a low voice. “Ain’t no place for a lil miss. If I thought you had half a chance to skiddle, I’d float you on your way. Afraid there ain’t no chance for that now
, so I’ll just recommend you lay low as the rest of these bokes.” He gestured to the scattered denizens of the lounge.
“I’m not as addled as I may seem.” Atom leaned in. “I knew I was in too deep as soon as I saw Rolf and Oli, but I figured I would see more danger if I turned my back to run. So, if I can just ride this out in a room, I’d be obliged.”
“Talk to one of them.” Johansen pointed to a uniformed trio huddled around a low table on the far side of the lounge. “They’re staffers and should be able to scare somethin’ for you. I’d carve wide of the main floor. Nothin’ but trouble for the lil’ miss down there.
“The lifts will take you up to the spas, but you’d have to talk to the staff,” he grumbled on his way back onto the lift. “Our crew has avoided the waters. Nothin’ much to take there.”
Punching the doors shut, he left Atom to work the situation on his own.
“This place is gutted,” Atom whispered to Kozue as he surveyed the despondent features of the ragged group of survivors. “Keep the crew informed. I’m working on angling us out of here.”
“Have you spotted Lilly?” Kozue asked.
“I doubt she’d get swept up in this.”
“Too smart?’
“Maybe.” Atom maneuvered the pram over to settle beside a low table surrounded by empty couches. “The Tribes have a knack for avoiding situations they can’t control …”
Atom trailed off, his mind jumping.
“What is it?” Kozue asked.
“She was on Soba.” Atom spoke through the puzzle as he dropped onto one of the couches, lifted Margo out of the pram, and balanced her on his knees. “I assumed she’d been raped, but perhaps she just wanted me to think that. The Ghost Tribes control their situations, which means she could have avoided that. She was after something.”
“Or perhaps she simply used you to tie up loose ends.”
“That would mean she knew that I was tracking her and that she knew I was there….” Atom trailed off with his gaze lost in the thoughtful distance.
Pulling a blanket out of the pram, Margo slid down to sit on the couch beside Atom. Ignoring his words she snuggled in close to his side and closed her eyes.
“Theft?” Kozue computed.
“From those bokes?” Atom asked with an incredulous laugh. “I doubt it. They were just a shift on a hauler. I can’t imagine they had anything she would need or want.”
“Information?” Kozue fished.
“It’s possible. Run a check to link those men to the Genkohan.”
Atom shifted Margo’s head to one of the couch cushions with a parent’s stealth and rose to his feet. Looking over the room, he pulled the friendly smile back out. “Let’s play a game.” He thrust his hands in the pockets of his worn and battered brown coat. “Ten people in a room…. Let’s figure out who they are and what they do.”
The handful of haggard inn patrons kept their eyes down and their words hushed as Atom looked them over. He turned to the inn employees first.
“Maid, cook, and….” He frowned and rocked back on his heels. “Clerk?”
“Close. The first two are correct. The last works in the spa.”
“Good, that means we should be able to get some food and a bed to sleep in.”
“And you should be able to visit the mineral springs you keep rambling about. They are fully automated and seem to be untouched by the merc crew. Perhaps the spa-man can arrange that for you.”
Atom nodded. “Three down, six to go.
“Boke sitting by himself in the corner is military.” Atom sidestepped the low table and wandered to an automated bar where he prepped a cup of black bitter. “I would guess he’s a rear gear, otherwise he’d be doing something about the mercs.”
“Correct, he’s an appropriated passenger on a layover.”
“And the three playing Solace are merch caps. The passenger must belong to one of them and whichever unlucky merch has the joy of carrying him to his destination is probably the same one losing all his money in that game.” Atom plunked a spice cube in his bitter and wandered back to Margo. He blew a wisp of steam from the top of his mug as he turned his attention back to the merchant captains. “They’re smart though. They know they’re good enough with the mercs to ride this out. There was probably a payoff of some sort, but they don’t seem to be sweating too much.”
“They line up with the three merchant ships currently docked,” Kozue said.
“I’m guessing their crews are still aboard their ships, because they aren’t here.”
“Safe assumption.”
“That leaves two.” Atom yawned and sat down, careful not to wake Margo. “Lass and lad. I’d say the lady’s a wandering tumbler and the gentleman’s syndicorp. He’s too polished for this riff.”
“That is possible,” Kozue sounded puzzled. “It would appear that the ship registered in his name is a shell. It belongs to him, but there’s a maze of files on how. I’m sure the name on the registry is false and I’m having trouble tracing its system of origin.”
“He’s kuza.” Atom sipped from his mug. “And the tumbler? She’s a little old for her trade. Does the last ship belong to her?”
“No.”
Atom froze, his eyes drifting to the woman. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not tied to her at all. That ship doesn’t exist. It’s a ghost.”
“How did it dock?”
“Oh, there’s a name and papers, but they run in more circles than the kuza’s. They end nowhere, meaning the ship technically doesn’t exist.
Atom sipped at his bitter and studied the woman over the lip of his mug. She sat on a low, backless couch and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed in weary resignation. She wore a crimson half-kimono, cut high in the front and long in the back. A black obi wrapped her midsection. Matching black and red heels sat on the coffee table as the woman stretched her legs out, crossed at the ankle.
Her eyes drifted open and she caught sight of Atom. An explosion of surprise flashed across her face to vanish behind her mask, leaving to Atom to wonder if he had seen it.
Atom caught his breath. “It’s her,” he whispered into his mug.
Before he could react, the lift whispered open and a blaster bolt sizzled through the air to burn a hole in the couch beside Atom’s arm. Margo snapped upright, but remained silent. Atom froze, his eyes locked on the aging tumbler.
Her eyes slid shut, like an alligator before submerging.
Around the hub all conversation ceased. Then, as if the mercenary embodied a diseased animal, everyone fled as far away as possible without abandoning the room.
“Think you’re better than I am?” Nezumi snarled. He took three steps and leaped to land in a crouch on the arm of the couch at the far end from Atom. Margo edged closer to her father, but remained silent and still. “Anders said you could have killed me downstairs and there’s nothing I could have done about it.
“He’s a liar.” The skeletal man stalked to the floor and stood over Atom. Without warning he struck Atom just above the ear, like a soft-pawed cat toying with a mouse.
Atom froze, feigning fear, but in reality, sitting firm with stoic resolve.
Fury building, Nezumi shifted a step back and crouched on the low table before the couch. He perched there like a gargoyle. Leaning forward, he sprayed Atom’s face with spittle as he screamed with unchecked rage. “He’s a liar. I could have killed you without taking a breath.”
The lift door opened once again and Captain Anders, with Johansen and Rolf flanking, stepped into the lounge. They remained silent, watching the interplay.
Atom’s mask remained in place. With fea,r his stare remained on the dark-haired tumbler.
“Tell me he’s lying.” Nezumi slapped Atom again. This time across the face.
Atom remained silent.
Nezumi jammed his wrist-blaster beneath Atom’s chin, forcing his head back.
“Tell me.” Nezumi leaned in close. “Or I’ll end the conversat
ion right now. Nobody will stop me.”
The merc stared hard into Atom’s unwavering eyes.
“Tell me,” he screamed, firing a shot wide that left a furrowed burn on Atom’s neck. “If you won’t tell me I’ll . . . I’ll ash your kid.” He hopped to his feet on the table, towering over Atom as he shifted his aim to Margo.
The girl met his wild eyes with indifference.
Nezumi’s nostrils flared as his breath slipped out in animalistic pants.
“She don’t mean nothin’ to you?” he demanded.
“Ah, have a heart,” the tumbler called out from the far side of the room. “Can’t you see you’ve backed the poor boke into a peachy pinch? He’s terrified. He opens his mouth and you kill him. Where’s that leave his lass? He sits there like a dumb mutt, so you kill his girl. Then he follows.
“Either way, he’s dead.” She brushed back her dark hair and leaned forward to slip on her shoes.
Atom followed every movement with his eyes.
“Shut up, you dumb whore,” Nezumi snarled. “When I want you, I’ll toss a ko your way.”
“Speaking of which.” The woman rose to her feet with a whisper of silk, adjusting her obi in a seductive twist that revealed ample cleavage. “This man’s already made a deposit. If you want to kill him, you’ll have to wait for us to conclude our business transaction.”
Nezumi’s mouth fell open as the tumbler made her way to Atom with dainty steps that accentuated the curve of her hips. She sidestepped the mercenary and pulled Atom to his feet. “You stay put, darling,” she spoke to Margo in a sweet, soft voice as she ignored Nezumi and escorted Atom from the lounge without a backward glance.
Atom followed like an obedient puppy as the woman led the way to her room.
“It’s you again,” Atom said after the door hissed shut. He perched on the edge of her bed as she kicked off her heels and took a seat at the small desk in the corner of the room. Without giving him much thought, she studied herself in the mirror mounted above the desk.