by Tripp Ellis
“We should have exterminated them. Saarkturians don’t honor treaties. And you’ve made a deal with one?”
“No choice,” Walker said.
Twenty-five years of rage was boiling up in the man. Things he hadn’t thought about in ages were coming to the surface. Walker could see the anguish in his face. The years lost on this planet. The life that he never got to live. All erased by his imprisonment on this arid rock in a forgotten sector of space.
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Kurt Walker, UP Navy, Special Warfare Group. This here is Gunnery Sergeant Bailey.”
Bailey barked.
The man smirked and softened a little. “You’re a Reaper, eh?”
Walker nodded.
“Lieutenant Gavin Slade. But after 25 years on this hell hole, they ought to promote me.”
Walker’s eyes widened. “Any relation to Captain Aria Slade?”
Gavin lifted his brow. “Captain, huh?” He seemed proud. “You know her?”
“We’ve met,” Walker stammered.
“She’s my wife. Well, was my wife. I suspect she’s moved on by now.” He frowned and hung his head. He gazed at his wedding band that he still wore. He fidgeted with it, rotating it around his finger with his thumb.
Walker wasn’t about to mention that he’d almost had a thing with her. “You were reported as KIA.”
“Understandable. For all intents and purposes, I am dead,” he muttered. “Has she remarried?”
“No.”
“How do you two know each other?”
“We… worked together on my last mission.” Walker quickly changed the subject. “Your son is a helluva fighter pilot, so I’m told.”
Gavin’s eyes lit up. “Son? I have a son?” His face was a mix of joy and regret. He had missed out on his son’s childhood.
“Cameron Thomas Slade. He’s an ensign in the UP Navy.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He smiled, full of pride.
Walker didn’t have the heart to tell him Cameron had been charged with treason. Though Walker was certain Cameron’s actions were a result of the Verge mind control technology.
“So, you say this Saarkturian has a ship?”
Walker caught Gavin up to speed on all the details. His eyes were wide, and his jaw was slack. He was astonished that Walker was still alive. “You mean to tell me that you crashed in the northern flats and made it out on foot alive?”
“Yeah.”
“You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch. Those flats are crawling with those fork-tailed devils. There are thousands of them buried out there under the sand. And you want to go back in there to retrieve a power cell?”
“It’s our only way off the planet.”
“No, thank you. I lost a platoon of men in those flats when we first crashed here. I’m not going back in there. I’ll stay in the canyon. It’s kept me alive this long.”
“I only ran into one of those things on my way out. Maybe there aren’t as many out there as you think.”
“Like I said, you got lucky. They’re buried in burrows. They pick up on vibrations in the ground. Walking through there is like ringing the dinner bell. You must have stepped in all the right places, or managed to catch them on a lazy day.”
“I’d rather take my chances in the flats than stay here for the rest of my life.”
That hit Gavin like a punch to the gut. He grimaced. Walker could see Gavin had resigned himself to the fact that he was never going to leave the planet.
“I’ve been here so long, I don’t know if I would even fit in back in the world. You’re the first person I’ve seen in 25 years. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hold a conversation after all this time.”
“One way, or another, I’m getting off this planet,” Walker said. “You’re welcome to come with me. Or you can stay here.”
“If you’re going to go back into the flatlands, you need to do it before the rainy season comes.”
“It rains on this planet?”
“For a few weeks out of the year, we get heavy rains. The monsoons are always preceded by the sandstorms. And we’ve had quite a few sandstorms in the last few weeks.”
“What happens during the rainy season?” Walker almost didn’t want to ask.
Gavin had a grim look in his eyes.
31
SLADE
This time of year, Europa city was cold and rainy. The slick streets reflected the colorful lights of the city. Automated cabs were lined up at the curb just outside the space port. Logan pushed Slade into a cab.
“Please state your destination,” said a soothing, automated voice.”
“Teasers on 25th Street,” Logan said.
“Teasers nightclub on 25th Street,” the voice repeated, “Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“That will be 75 credits, please.”
Logan placed his palm onto the scanner on the dash.
“Thank you. Transaction complete.”
In any other city, on any other planet, facial recognition cameras within the cab would have identified both Logan and Slade. The authorities would’ve been notified of the exact whereabouts of an escaped convict. Upon detecting Logan’s gun, the cab would have shut down, and reported him to law enforcement for outstanding warrants.
But all of those data tracking tools were outlawed on Vega Draconis. Even the payment portal was encrypted. Not only was mass surveillance data considered an invasion of privacy, lawmakers felt it would reduce tourism and stifle economic growth. The outlaw planet had quickly gotten a reputation as a wild and raucous destination early on. Tourism was the single biggest revenue generator on the planet. And nobody wanted to see that come to an end. You could get away for a weekend on Vega Draconis, and no one would ever know you had been there. Of course, that also made it a haven for the outlaws of the galaxy.
The cab hovered above the roadway and took off through the city. It twisted and turned through the streets, taking the shortest possible route, factoring in traffic. Within 15 minutes, they were standing curbside at Teasers.
Logan nodded at the bouncer and pushed in through the main doors. A thick wave of electronic dance music and heavy bass enveloped them. Slade could feel the beat in her stomach. She was still hungry.
It was a glitzy decadent nightclub that was a mix of dance club, strip joint, and brothel. Half naked girls of all species danced around poles on stage. There was a dance floor that pulsed in rhythm to the music, visualizing the sound waves on the floor. The club was thick with smoke, partially from cigarettes, partially from the fog machines. Colored swaths of light cut the air in dazzling displays. The DJ was spinning tunes and calling performers to stage in a cheesy announcer voice. “Jasmine, stage two. Jasmine, stage two.”
Europa City was the kind of place where you could march someone into a club in handcuffs with a gun poking into their ribs and no one would pay it any attention. Nobody wanted to get into the middle of someone else’s business. Especially not in Teasers. And hey, maybe handcuffs and guns were your thing?
Slade saw a group of Marines drinking and having a good time. Girls were clinging to them, trying to empty their wallets with lap dances.
Logan marched Slade to the main bar and called out to the bartender. “Little Nicky around?”
“In the VIP lounge.”
Logan dragged Slade to the back of the club. It was darker back there, and the music wasn’t as loud. A bouncer at a velvet rope put out his hand and stopped Logan.
“I got business with Little Nicky,” Logan said.
The bouncer was a thick, meathead of a guy. He had dark hair and a goatee, and wore a navy suit that was custom fitted. He was wearing way too much cologne. Inside his coat was a .45 holstered in a shoulder harness. It probably wasn’t the only gun he was packing.
He glanced back to a man who was wearing dark sunglasses, sitting on a sofa with two gorgeous girls. The girls were in various states of undress, sipping on champagne and taking turns snorting lines of white p
owder from the glass coffee table in front of them. It was an antiquated way of doing drugs. You could get the same result with a neural stimulator, but it lacked the tactile feel and experience. And real cocaine was a rare commodity these days. Synthetic knockoffs were popular and cheap, but you had to have money to have the real deal. No matter how far technology advanced, people still wanted their drugs, their booze, and their cigarettes.
The man motioned Logan forward. This was Little Nicky. He was an average sized guy, but his dad was Big Nick. And Big Nick was a big deal. Teasers may have been Little Nicky’s club, but it was bought and paid for with Big Nick’s money and connections.
The bouncer stepped aside and let Logan pass.
“Logan, you’re late,” Little Nicky said. “You were supposed to be here two days ago.”
“Shit happens.”
“I don’t like to be kept waiting. I have a business to run here. The merchandise needs to be kept fresh.”
“Business seems to be doing well,” Logan said, looking around. The place wasn’t packed, but it wasn’t bad for mid afternoon. Europa City was covered in perpetual darkness. One day blended into the next, and sometimes parties would go on for days. But still, there was a day and night ebb and flow. Around noon, the sky would reach its lightest, which looked like dusk on most planets. Real night was always busier.
Nicky stood up and strolled around to get a better look at Slade. She felt his sleazy eyes cling to every curve of her body. The vibe this man gave off was slimier than the pit back on Alpha Ceti 7.
“She’s a little old, don’t you think?”
Slade scowled at him.
“She’s experienced,” Logan said.
“Have you tested her out?”
“I don’t get high on my own supply.”
Nicky grinned. “Well, I might have to put her through her paces at some point.” He strolled around Slade, checking her out from all angles. “I’ll give you 35,000 credits for her.”
Logan’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what the market will bear. Look around. My clients like nice, wholesome, college girls. You know, innocent girls that are here just making a little extra cash to put themselves through school. That’s the fantasy. They don’t want some old battle axe that looks like you just pulled her out of a maximum-security prison.”
Both Slade and Logan gritted their teeth.
“Nicky, are we looking at the same thing here? This woman is stunning. She might not be 20 anymore, but she still inspires all kinds of fantasies.”
“I can go 45,000 credits, tops.”
“I’m trying to run a business here. I’ve got transportation costs. I’ve got housing, food, clothing, incidentals. I got my crew. I’m losing money at 45,000.”
“Your lack of ability to keep production costs low is not my problem.”
“I’m not selling widgets here,” Logan said. “This business is nuanced and ever-changing. Supply is constantly in flux. But demand always remains.”
“She looks like she’s going to be a pain in the ass.”
“No, she’s very docile and compliant. She didn’t give me any trouble on the way over here.”
Nicky gave Logan a skeptical glance. He looked Slade over one more time. “Where are you from, sweetheart?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
Nicky backhanded her. The strike reopened her split lip. Blood trickled down, rolling over her chin.
“Hey, hey! You break, you buy,” Logan said.
Nicky got up in Slade’s face. He was a spoiled little brat that always got his way. “When I ask a question, you answer me. Is that clear?”
Slade spit blood in his face.
Logan’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe she had just done that. Nobody disrespects Little Nicky. It’s just not done.
Nicky was so pissed, he was shaking. He wiped the bloody saliva from his face, and flung it to the ground. He clenched his jaw, seething. Veins in his neck and face bulged.
Even Logan felt bad for what Little Nicky was going to do to Slade.
32
WALKER
“The rain brings the mating season for those arthropods. As if this planet needed any more of them. The rain and cloud cover keep the planet relatively cool during the day. So they are out all day long, looking to feed and reproduce. You certainly don’t want to be in the flatlands during that frenzy.”
Walker wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of thousands of those creatures running around. The small handful he’d already dealt with were more than enough.
They waited for the storm to die down, then searched the canyon for Malick. They found him on the ground, unconscious, several hundred yards down the canyon. His helmet was dented and scratched. The wind must have catapulted him. His head must have slammed against a rock, knocking him out.
Walker knelt down and carefully removed Malick’s helmet, making sure to support his neck in case Malick had a spinal injury. He was still alive, and the armor had saved him from the harsh sandblasting.
The sun was rising, and they needed to get him to shelter soon.
“Give me a hand with him,” Walker said.
Gavin knelt down. Walker took one side, Gavin took the other. He groaned as he lifted Malik from the ground. “He’s a heavy son-of-a-bitch, ain’t he?”
Walker and Gavin carried Malick back to the dwelling and set him on a bunk.
“I can’t believe I’m giving aid and comfort to the enemy,” Gavin said.
Malik was out for almost an hour. He woke, groggy, and had no recollection of what had happened.
Gavin scowled at the Saarkturian. “You’re lucky those saber-toothed bastards didn’t find you before we did.”
“Malik, this is Gavin. Our gracious host,” Walker said, eying Gavin. The last thing Walker needed was for Gavin to start another Verge War. “He’s agreed to help us, in exchange for a lift off of this dump.”
Malik gave a nod of agreement.
“We should head out in the morning for my ship,” Walker said.
“Why not this afternoon?” Malik asked.
“Let’s give it a day to see how you feel. I don’t need you passing out on me out there.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve probably got a mild concussion. I think we need to keep a watch on you for a bit. Do you have a headache? Nausea, dizziness, confusion?”
Malik held up his dented helmet. “Of course I have a headache. What do you think?” He glared at Walker. “I’m fine.”
Walker shrugged. “If you say so.”
“I’m fine,” he snarled, which only made his head hurt worse. He tried to stand, but felt woozy. He crashed back down to the bunk.
“Like I said, we’ll head out in the morning.”
Malik couldn’t argue any longer.
“You’re not going to like this,” Gavin said. “But there’s only one way to survive the flatlands.”
Walker lifted a curious eyebrow.
33
SLADE
Little Nicky’s eyes burned into Slade. “300,000 credits. That’s what I’ll pay. Just so I can make her life a living hell.”
Logan’s eyes went wide. That was twice what he had hoped for. “Sure,” he stammered. But even as greedy as Logan was, the concern on his face was evident.
“Then it’s a deal,” Nicky said.
The two shook on it.
Logan handed him the keys to the handcuffs.
“Why don’t you stick around. Drinks and entertainment are on the house tonight. Pick any girl you’d like.”
“Thanks,” he said, thinly. Logan stood there for a moment, staring at Slade.
“The transaction is over. Go. Have some fun.” Nicky shooed him along.
Logan strolled away, past the bouncer and the velvet rope of the VIP lounge. But he kept glancing back at Slade. He looked like he almost felt sorry for her.
Nicky glared at Slade. Then he called out to the bouncer at the velvet rope.
“Marco, take her upstairs and get her fitted with an obedience implant. Then put her on display. Let’s see what she’s really worth.”
Marco grabbed Slade by the arm and dragged her upstairs. Slade jerked and pulled and kicked at him, but his grip was too tight, and his frame too big. He pulled her along like she were a stuffed doll.
Slade didn’t want an obedience implant. Once that was installed, the game would be over. It wasn’t mind control, exactly. But it was close. They were small, disc-shaped objects affixed to the back of the neck. Nano tentacles penetrated the spinal fluid and entered the brain, influencing a number of key areas in the prefrontal cortex and limbic system.
While not as advanced as the Saarkturian mind control, the devices could reduce inhibition, modulate serotonin levels, increase impulsive behavior, increase sex drive, and stimulate pleasure areas of the brain.
You couldn’t program someone to be a stone cold killer with an obedience implant. But you could make them docile and compliant, and be happy about it. You could also simulate the sensation of pain. Pure and total threshold pain. 20 on a scale of 10. The worst pain you ever felt in your life. And it could all be accomplished with the press of a button. That was enough to keep most people in line.
Marco brought her to The Doctor. He was an older gentleman with gray hair and a gray mustache, wearing a white lab coat. But the lab coat was probably just to make him feel better about himself. Who knew if he was a real doctor or not? It didn’t really matter. He was the guy responsible for the implants. He also made sure the girls were healthy enough to work, and took care of them when they weren’t.
Almost every disease had a cure, and thereby had been mostly eradicated. But running an intergalactic brothel meant that somebody was going to catch something at some point. And the good Doctor was there to cure them.
Marco barged into the Doc’s office. It was a makeshift facility with an exam table, diagnostic devices, medical instruments, and cabinets full of medications. Doc was at his desk with his sleeve rolled up. He had just injected something into his arm, and his head fell limp.
This is just great. The Doc is a junky, Slade thought.