Forced Vengeance (Jake Mudd Adventures Book 2)

by Hal Archer

  She took off her backpack and pulled out a small metal tool and a circuit board with two wires protruding from it, each with a clamp at the end. She used the tool to crack open Jake's comm device, then she hooked the circuit card to the board inside the device.

  Static sounded from the device, then it cleared.

  "Hey, Jake," Sarah said.

  Tiffin wasn't sure if she should respond. She said nothing.

  "Jake?" Sarah's voice came through the comm device a little louder this time. "Are you there? You OK?" She sounded concerned.

  "Jake's not here," Tiffin said.

  "What? Who is this? Where's Jake?"

  Tiffin hesitated again, then responded. "My name's Tiffin."

  "Who are you?"

  Tiffin thought about Jake being carried off by the checkered hats.

  "I'm a friend of his," she said.

  There was silence on the channel for a few seconds before Sarah replied. "You sound young to be one of his friends." She emphasized the word friends, making it sound less than a good thing.

  Tiffin bristled at Sarah's tone, but knew Jake's situation was more important. "He's been taken," she said.

  "What?"

  "Checkered hats. He didn't really have a chance."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. They surrounded him on the street."

  "Where'd they take him?" Sarah sounded exasperated.

  "Lock up, I guess," Tiffin said.

  "They must've found the license," Sarah said quietly, to herself more than to Tiffin.

  "No," Tiffin said.

  "What do you mean, no?"

  "He didn't get it," Tiffin said.

  "How do you even know about that? Who are you, again?"

  Tiffin thought about her answer for a second. "It's not what you think. I'm just a girl in the city. I helped him out. He helped me out. He's a decent guy. I don't want to see him hurt."

  "That makes two of us," Sarah said. "I can't leave. They've got me on lock down. I need you to find out what's going on. Can you do that for me?"

  Tiffin looked around the top of the building and realized she was alone. Jake and whoever this was on the comm, she thought, were the only two people who seemed to care what she did.

  She sat up straight. "Yes."

  "Good," Sarah said. "Keep his comm device on you. "I want to hear back from you as soon as you find out something. I'll do some scans and see what I can find out on my end."

  "I will."

  "Thank you," Sarah said. Tiffin could tell she was holding back tears.

  "The license," Tiffin said. "It's important, isn't it?"

  Sarah didn't say anything at first. Tiffin let her take her time to respond.

  "It's the only reason we came here," Sarah said.

  "If I get it for you, can I come with you and Jake?"

  "Jake seems to think we need the license," Sarah said. "I just want him back safely. Help make sure that happens and you can leave with us, if it's what you really want."

  Tiffin's face took on a serious determined look. "I'll contact you again soon."

  "OK," Sarah said. "Please hurry. I don't know what they'll do to him."

  "I will."

  Tiffin pressed a button on the comm device, closing the channel to Sarah.

  "Squeakers," Tiffin said, "we're going to get the license from the Baron's place. Then we're going to rescue Jake."

  CHAPTER 24

  T iffin's hands shook slightly as she walked under the jets of air in the alley which led to Baron Vos' place. The air was cold and she was wearing her green shorts with the cargo pockets, but it wasn't why her hands were shaking. She knew the Baron was dead, but she didn't know who might still be behind the door up ahead.

  The formidable defensive weapon she'd created, the stinger, was in her right hand. Ready.

  "Stay down and keep quiet," she said softly to Squeakers.

  Her mouse was nestled inside the pocket of her vest. He hadn't stirred in a while. Tiffin suspected he'd fallen asleep on the way, but she dropped in an extra piece of cheese to keep him occupied if he woke up. The cheese plopped onto Squeaker's head and settled in beside him. He was sleeping as only a full belly could make him.

  The alley was dark, as were many she'd walked to get here, but she decided not to use either pair of her special goggles. The modified perspective each of them gave could prove to be a problem if she had to move quickly from light to shadows or from inside to outside. The goggles were slow to adjust to sudden changes. She knew she may not have more than a second to get out of harm's way.

  She took the last few steps to the door, crunching the thin layer of ice on the ground with her boots. She tried the handle of the heavy metal door. Locked.

  Without hesitation, she reached into the left cargo pocket of her shorts and pulled out a round device the size of her palm. It had three metal rings on one side, each of them fitted with a series of pins. She held the device up to the door handle and pressed a button on either side of the device, activating it. The rings inside spun around, moving the pins rapidly up and down until so many holes punched into the door that the handle fell off. She reached down and pressed the two buttons on the device again, releasing it from the detached handle.

  She stuck it in her pocket and peered through the hole where the handle had been. Someone was staring back at her, but she realized it was her reflection in the mirror on the far wall of the room. She angled her head so she could see around the room through the hole in the door. It was empty. The red-tinted lights were on. She reached through the hole and found the latch to unlock the door.

  She led with her stinger stick in her right hand.

  "Looks like everyone's gone still," she said to Squeakers in a whisper.

  She noticed the ice on the floor at the bottom of the door to her right. She stepped over to it and felt the door. "Definitely not in there."

  She turned to the hallway opposite the door, the only other way out of the room. She breathed deeply and exhaled, preparing herself to go down the hallway into the unknown. He needs the license and I need to leave Eon, she thought.

  She walked down the hall, hearing nothing but her own footsteps and her breathing. After two turns, she came to a door. She placed her ear against it to try to determine if anyone was in the room. She heard nothing through the door.

  She turned the handle, opened the door halfway, and stepped inside. Then she froze in her tracks.

  Across the room, on a couch longer and nicer than her own, was a young man. He was asleep. He didn't look much older than herself. She glanced around the room. Two chairs. A table. A desk with several drawers. A door at the back of the room.

  She made her way to the desk, careful not to wake the man. The room was dim, but a lamp on the desk provided enough light to get around. As she walked to the desk, she saw the man sleeping on the couch and decided he wasn't yet a man. She felt a little relieved. Less of a threat if he awoke. She glanced down at her stinger weapon, then with her other hand opened each of the drawers of the desk to inspect their contents.

  How am I even going to know I've found it? She realized she didn't know what the license would look like.

  Still rummaging through the desk, she heard the sound of a weapon quickly charging up behind her.

  "Turn around slowly," the teenage boy said.

  Tiffin turned to face him. He was sitting on the couch now, his charged blaster pointing at her. She saw his facial expression change quickly from anger to something else. She couldn't quite make sense of it. His eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted slightly. His mouth hung open a little as he looked at her.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice lacked the tone she expected. He sounded less upset or angry and more stunned and interested. Tiffin had no idea why. Boys are weird, she thought.

  "I'm trying to help a friend," Tiffin said.

  The boy got up, still training his weapon on her. "I don't understand. You don't belong here. My uncle would kill you if he found
you here."

  Tiffin realized he was probably talking about Baron Vos. She decided not to tell him she'd seen his uncle die. She felt sorry for him, even though he was holding a blaster to her.

  "Your uncle, Baron Vos, right?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "He promised something to a friend of mine."

  "I don't know what you're talking about, but you need to take that up with him."

  "I would," Tiffin said, "but I can't, your uncle—" She caught herself. "I mean, my friend can't wait. He needs what your uncle promised him right away. That's why I'm here."

  The boy still looked a little dazed. Tiffin was confused as to why he was looking so intensely at her. She noticed a slight curling of the edges of his mouth. Is he smiling at me? Oh, no. Seriously?

  She took a gamble and switched off her stinger weapon, then put it half into her shorts pocket. It took some effort, but she smiled back at the boy. "I'm Tiffin."

  She saw the impact on his face of her telling him her name. He lowered his blaster.

  "My name is Ron," he said, following his words with an oversized grin.

  Ew.

  Tiffin held back her reflex to gag and managed to cast Ron a look which, from his reaction, he'd apparently been waiting all his life to get.

  What are you doing, Tiffin?

  She saw his shoulders melt and, though she wouldn't have believed it possible before, his grin got bigger.

  "I'm actually in charge here, while my uncle's gone," Ron said. He puffed up his chest a little. “One of these days soon, I’ll take over this operation.”

  “Oh?” Tiffin said, trying to look impressed, even though she wasn’t.

  “He’s got a condition. Picked it up a few years back. Alien virus or something. His cold room slows it down, but…”

  Tiffin saw Ron’s smile disappear. She knew she needed to say something to draw him back in.

  “Sorry to hear about that,” she said. “I’m sure he’s proud that you’re going to take over for him.”

  Ron seemed a sucker for the compliment. His grin came back in full force.

  “I’m lucky I found you,” Tiffin said.

  ”What exactly are you looking for?"

  Tiffin smiled. This time it was genuine.

  CHAPTER 25

  J ake woke up in a holding cell. He was cold. His body ached from the forced contractions the shock sticks caused. But he felt rested. He wasn't sure how long he was out, but he felt like it was morning after a good night's sleep. He rolled over and opened his eyes.

  The room wasn't much more than a closet. The walls, ceiling, and floor were concrete. No windows. One door. It looked sturdy.

  He exhaled and saw his breath roll and swirl in front of him. He remained on the mattress for a minute, thinking about his predicament. And because the mattress was the best furnishings he'd felt out of the many holding cells he'd wound up in over the years. The cold was relaxing. He considered dozing back off for a nap, but then his instincts kicked in.

  He got up and stepped to the steel door, three feet away. He looked around the seam between it and the wall. It was tight. He couldn't see the hinges, but guessed they were as solid as the door and walls.

  Not gonna force my way out.

  He knew his blaster had been taken, but he glanced down at his holster just to be sure. It was empty. He noticed his comm device was gone.

  "Of course they wouldn't leave it," he said to himself.

  He paced and rubbed his hands together. Moving around slowly worked some of the tension from his body that had seized him when the checkered hats attacked him.

  "Those bastards," he said, remembering how they jabbed the electric prods into him.

  He sat down on the bed again. This is a comfortable mattress.

  There was no need to look around the room for anything else. There was nothing else and the room was so small he figured he could touch opposite walls if he stretched out on the floor.

  They can't keep me here long. No toilet.

  "Oh, that would just be mean," he said, thinking they might make him stay in there long enough that the lack of a toilet would become a pressing matter.

  "So, this is it, Mudd," he said to himself. "Survive over a decade of mercenary work, death traps on a hundred planets throughout the galaxy, and attacks by every would-be thug assassin or hired gun who thought they'd got what it takes. And you're gonna die in a cold room with no toilet."

  He stared at the door for a few seconds.

  Screw this.

  He hopped up from the bed and started banging on the door with his fist.

  "Hey!" He kept pounding the steel. The door felt solid but his blows were making a lot of noise.

  He stopped when he heard what he imagined was a large metal bolt sliding open on the other side of the door.

  He heard a man outside the room. "If you try to get through the door, you'll get shot!"

  He stepped back and waited, listening to what he could through the door.

  The door opened. Jake made a split-second decision not to charge out of the room. The three men standing beyond the doorway with blasters drawn helped him decide. They wore uniforms like the ones he'd seen on the security forces he went through when he left Sarah in the holding port.

  The man in the center spoke. "You have been brought here on charges presented against you. You will have a chance to defend yourself."

  "In the arena," one of the other men said, then chuckled.

  "What charges?" Jake asked.

  The man who had spoken first shook his head slightly and squished his mouth before answering. "They don't tell us, but based on how many men they sent after you, I'd say you've been a bad man."

  He waved his blaster, gesturing for Jake to come out of the room.

  "I thought you were going to shoot me if I came out," Jake said.

  "Just move." The center man stepped back. The other two guards did so as well. "That way," the man said, pointing down the hall to Jake's left. "All the way to the end."

  Jake did as they asked. At least he was out of the small room, he thought. Hall's warmer. Must use the cold to keep people low key.

  He walked the long hall and his three escorts followed him with their weapons aimed at his back. They were smart enough to keep a little distance between themselves and Jake, he noticed. He glanced back over his shoulder once as they walked and saw the three men weren't taking any chances with him. They were ready to shoot. He decided not to give them a reason.

  As he approached the turn at end of the hall, one of the men behind him told him to keep going. He took the hall to the right, his only option, and came to a counter window. There was a heavy steel door to the right. Another uniformed man stood on the other side of the counter behind a clear barrier which had small holes in the middle.

  "Name?" the man behind the counter asked.

  Jake glanced back and saw the three men escorting him still had their weapons drawn and aimed at him. He looked at the man behind the clear barrier. "Jake Mudd."

  "Citizen of Eon?" the man asked.

  "No," Jake said. "Does it make a difference?"

  The man ignored Jake's question. "Are you able to stand for judgement?"

  Jake huffed and shook his head. "I'm not even sure why I'm here. I was planning to leave Eon today. You want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

  "Justice, Mr. Mudd. Eon is a civilized place."

  "Your buddies didn't seem very civilized when they were juicing me up with their toys," Jake said, talking louder and more aggressively.

  The man stared at Jake for a moment. "I'll put you down as a yes, you are well enough to stand for judgement."

  Jake saw the man touch a few spots on the screen embedded into the counter on his side of the clear barrier. The man held up his forefinger while he looked down at the screen for a few seconds.

  "Yes. OK," he said. "We have an opening for you."

  "Opening?" Jake asked. "You still haven't told me what I'm supposed t
o have done. Why'd your goons round me up?"

  The man behind the counter looked Jake in the eyes, but said nothing. He pointed toward the door to Jake's right.

  Jake glared at the man, then glanced back at his three escorts. One of them nodded toward the door. The three men still had their blasters trained on Jake.

  "This is not the Eon I remember," Jake said. He sighed, letting out a groan, then opened the door and went down the hall on the other side of it. One of the three men followed Jake at a distance, his blaster held high.

  The end of the hall widened into a sort of room. There was a door directly in front of him and a shelf-like bench built into the wall on either side of the room.

  A scrawny young man was seated on one of the benches. He had blue skin, but otherwise looked human. "Please sit down," he said, gesturing to the bench opposite his own.

  Jake looked at the officer walking him there at gunpoint. The man offered nothing but a blank stare.

  Jake sat.

  "Been here before?" the man seated opposite him asked.

  "No."

  "I didn't think so," the young officer said. "You look a little confused. New to Eon?"

  "Look buddy," Jake said, "I didn't come here for small talk. How about you tell me what's going on? I was on my way back to my ship and your damn city goons jumped me."

  The man nodded. "I hear you. Really, I do. If you're innocent, I'm sure this may be very frustrating for you."

  "If I'm innocent?" Jake stood up.

  The armed guard raised his weapon, aiming it at Jake's head.

  The young officer held his hand up toward the armed man. "Please, that's not necessary. This man deserves to be heard."

  Jake looked at the blaster a couple of feet away from his face, then sat down.

  "Thank you," the young officer said to Jake. He looked at the guard. "We'll be OK. You can leave him with me."

  The guard kept his weapon trained on Jake.

  "Really," the young man said. "Leave us. This man hasn't been judged yet."

  The guard lowered his blaster and shook his head. "Your funeral, man. Stupid, but what do I care." He glanced at Jake and then at the young man. He chuckled as he started back down the hall.