by M. D. Cooper
Konto hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course I will. Now stay here, OK?”
“OK.”
Konto hurried for the door. He was reaching for the handle when Larry called to him. “Mr Garr?”
“What is it, Larry?” Konto asked.
“Can you say it? Just once?”
“What? No!” said Konto. “He never said that.”
“Please, Mr Garr.”
Konto scowled and shook his head, but then sighed. He began to blurt the line out, then stopped. If he was going to do it, he may as well do it properly.
He turned. He cocked his blaster and raised it, pointing dramatically to Larry with his left hand. He cleared his throat.
“Justice strikes!” he boomed, in a voice that rolled around the room like thunder. “Like a meteorite!”
He stopped pointing and lowered the gun. “There,” he said, in a more normal, if somewhat embarrassed voice. “Happy now?”
The grin on Larry’s face said it all. He nodded, dumbly.
“OK, now shut up and stay hidden,” Konto told him. “I’ll be back for you soon.”
Konto turned to the door again. Again, Larry stopped him.
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“What?”
“Deenia. She doesn’t hate you. She talks about you all the time. She used to cry sometimes. You know, about not having a dad.” Larry shrugged. “Now she doesn’t.”
Konto’s throat tightened. He looked down at the flashing red dot on his tracker and brushed a thumb against it, just once.
“Go hide, Larry,” he said, and then he opened the door, stepped through, and was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
T’sa Nass paced between two towering storage containers, his blaster rifle handle gripped in one of his two front hands, the stock resting casually against his shoulder. He’d found a stack of candy bar boxes on his patrol, and had spent the past ten minutes munching his way through half a dozen of the more interesting ones.
He was midway through something called a Pilgrim now. It was firm on the outside, with a soft and gooey inside that tingled faintly on the tongue. He’d probably preferred the last one, which had a pleasingly crunchy biscuit base, but this one was good, too.
His two back arms, which were larger than the stunted front set, began unwrapping the next bar. This one was called Goosh!! T’sa had doubts it would justify both exclamation marks, but its promise of ‘decadent mallow and a smooth frinklenut center’ certainly sounded promising.
He had just finished unwrapping the thing and was about to take a bite when someone grabbed him by the head and twisted his neck until it went snap.
* * *
Lostra of Urt perched on the top of a stack of crates, her narrow yellow eyes scanning the warehouse below. Rows of containers, crates, and boxes stretched out like the walls of a maze in every direction.
She could see a few of her fellow Xandrie down there, patrolling along the aisles. She preferred it up here, far from the ground. Back on Urt, she’d spent the first decade of her life high up in the treetops, never once touching the forest floor.
That had all ended with the gnawmite infestation. Her home had come crashing down around her, and her family had been bundled aboard one of the Zertex rescue ships that had come swooping down from the sky. It was the first time she’d ever seen non-Urtians before, and her introduction to a much wider universe than the one she’d known up until then.
Down there on the floor, she felt boxed in, confined. Up here, she was free. Up here, she could see everything.
Or, mostly everything.
She didn’t see the stranger behind her. She didn’t see the knife his hand. He moved stealthily, struck quickly, and then Lostra of Urt saw nothing at all.
* * *
Harl Kaask thrust his hips forward, his breath coming in short, shallow groans. He’d crossed patrol paths with Tosro Vii, who he considered to be the most attractive of his fellow Xandrie and, as luck would have it, the only one with which he was even remotely physically compatible.
She faced away from him, her hands pressed against the side of the container, her long fingers splayed. She yelped softly with each of his increasingly forceful thrusts, and hissed with something that might have been pleasure and might have been pain as he tightened his hands around her slender waist.
It was not their first such encounter. While neither of them had any interest whatsoever in pursuing a relationship with the other, the occasional frantic fumble was something they both looked forward to it. It was a stress reliever, more than anything else. Being in one of the most feared gangs in all the galaxy brought its fair share of pressure, and their ever more regular bang sessions helped take some of that pressure away.
Tosro could feel Harl building to the big finish when he stopped, suddenly. She felt a wave of disappointment rush through her. She’d been close. So close! Why had he …?
A rope slipped across her throat and tightened, and Tosro Vii knew in that moment that ‘so close’ was the closest she’d ever get again.
* * *
And so it continued. The Xandrie between the emergency exit and the central office died, one by one, before they could utter a sound.
Shunk Nosta, son of Shunk Sen, had a knife buried in the back of his rectangular skull.
The Gart brothers, Do and Tuss, lost their heads. Literally.
Necks were snapped. Throats were cut. Insides became outsides.
Four minutes after saying goodbye to Larry, Konto Garr reached the door of the office. It was, annoyingly, the only door, or the only one that could be opened from outside, at least. There were no windows, either, and while Konto could have improvised another entrance if he’d had more time, he had no choice but to take the obvious one.
It clicked open quietly, revealing a narrow reception area. There was no sign of the receptionist at her desk, but the spray of blood on the wall behind it told Konto all he needed to know. He didn’t bother checking the body he knew would be on the floor. There was no time and, if the blood pattern was anything to go by, no point.
The inner door leading through to the wider, open-plan office area, stood ajar. Sidling up to it, Konto saw a guard posted just inside. He was swiping across the screen of his comm-device, playing some sort of game that seemed to involve throwing flying creatures at haphazardly-stacked towers.
Had anyone been watching the guard from inside the offices, they’d have seen a hand catch him by the hair, then seen him be yanked backwards through the door. Had the onlooker been in possession of particularly acute hearing, they’d have heard his muffled sob of fear, followed a split-second later by the even more muffled crunch of breaking bone.
But no-one saw him taken. And no-one heard him die.
Creeping through the door, Konto stuck to the shadows and sized up the situation. He could see the backs of the children’s heads forty feet or so away on the left. Miss Tresno and Magazine Mom were with them, both doing their best to keep the kids calm. A single Xandrie stood watching them, his gun held menacingly in both hands.
There was another Xandrie standing further ahead on the right. She had a practiced upright sort of air about her. Ex-military, Konto guessed. Maybe Zertex, maybe someone else. She stood guard outside the door of a small private office. Through the darkened windows, Konto could just make out two figures—Nobosh and Ranock, the guy with the metal arms, he guessed.
It was almost too easy. If he’d had more time, he’d have checked the area more thoroughly, but the shock-troops would almost certainly be on their way by now. He had just minutes until this place became even more of a blood bath than it already was.
The woman had a direct line of sight on the guy near the kids. Konto couldn’t take him out without getting rid of her first, and she had set herself up with her back to the wall so sneaking up on her was impossible.
He abandoned stealth entirely and blasted a hole in her chest. The Xandrie watching over the kids turned, but not fast enough. Konto st
epped in close and drove his forehead into the man’s nose, spreading it across his face. The gangster’s rifle was wrenched from his grip. Konto jammed the blaster pistol into the man’s mouth, saw the wide-eyed kids watching him in shocked silence, then pistol-whipped him unconscious, instead. He made a mental note to kill him later, when no-one was looking.
“M-Mr Garr?” Miss Tresno stammered. Konto pressed a finger to his lips and looked across the faces of the children until he spotted Deenia. She gawped at him in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.
“Everyone stay here,” he warned, then Deenia’s voice came at him, sharp and sudden and urgent.
“Dad!”
Konto’s shoulder exploded, spraying the screaming children with crimson spots. He hissed, his head going light as he turned to see a third Xandrie guard adjusting his aim. Konto’s arm came up, but the blaster slipped from his blood-slicked fingers.
“I know a hundred different ways to kill you,” squeaked a voice from over by the door. “Pick a number.”
Konto’s world ground into slow motion. He saw the Xandrie shift his aim towards the door. He saw Larry standing there, a Xandrie rifle tucked awkwardly under his arm, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried—and failed—to point it at the gangster.
With a roar, Konto pushed past the pain and the fog and launched himself across the floor. He hit the Xandrie just as he opened fire. Knocked off course, the blast streaked above Larry’s head, and Konto allowed himself a split-second of relief before he and the Xandrie hit the floor and agony flared across his ruined shoulder.
“Everyone look away!” he hissed, then he pressed both thumbs against the gangster’s eyes and pushed and pushed and pushed until the man stopped fighting back.
Head swimming, Konto crawled off the fallen Xandrie. The door to the inner office opened, and Ranock strode out, his metal muscles flexing as he stormed across the floor. “You fonking piece of shizz!” the Xandrie roared. He raised both fists above his head …
… and then blinked in surprise when a blaster rifle bolt punched a hole through his upper chest and neck. His mouth flapped open and closed. His arms sagged. He managed to shoot Larry an accusing look before his legs gave out and he toppled forwards onto the floor.
“Whoops,” said Larry. “That totally went off in my hand.”
“Larry?”
Nobosh appeared in the office doorway, his eyes wide and panicked as he tried to figure out what the fonk had happened in the past thirty seconds. There were at least two dead Xandrie on the floor, possibly three. Konto was struggling to his feet, a chunk of his shoulder missing and a really quite remarkable amount of blood smeared across his neck and face, and plenty more of it staining his clothes.
And in the middle of it all was Larry. He turned the gun away when Nobosh appeared. His classmates all screamed and ducked as the rifle swept towards them.
“Larry, be careful!” Konto warned. He made it to his feet, but the floor rolled and undulated beneath him, and he quickly dropped back onto one knee. “Put the gun down, Larry. Slowly.”
“Yes, do as he says, Larry,” Nobosh urged. “We wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Konto snapped his head around and growled at Larry’s father. “Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut,” he spat. “I know what you did, Nobosh. I know you’re behind this.”
He glared until Nobosh began to squirm, then turned his attention back to Larry. The boy looked confused. “Huh?” he said. “What do you mean, Mr Garr? How is my dad behind it?”
The gun was still half-tucked under Larry’s arm, the barrel still aiming vaguely at the rest of the kids. Miss Tresno and Magazine-Mom, to their credit, had made all the kids drop to the floor. Konto saw Deenia watching him, face-down on the carpet tiles. He gestured for her to stay down, then beckoned for Larry to come closer.
“That’s not important, Larry,” Konto said. “Just come here. Give me the gun.”
Larry looked from Konto to his dad and back again. After a moment, he nodded. “OK, Mr Garr. Whatever you say.”
He shuffled closer. Konto took the gun and ejected the battery pack. Only then did he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. “Well done, Larry,” he said. “Good boy.”
Deenia jumped up and ran towards him, then screamed as a hand caught her roughly by the hair. Nobosh pulled her in front of him, a blaster pistol jammed against the side of her head.
“Nobody move!” Nobosh hissed. “OK? OK? Everyone just stay calm and let me think about this.”
“Let her go, Nobosh,” Konto warned.
“Dad?” said Larry, his voice faltering.
“This is your fault,” Nobosh spat, glaring at his son. “You had to go to the bathroom. You couldn’t have just stuck with the group. You had to mess it up!”
Larry’s face went tight. Tears filled his eyes. “What? I didn’t mean … I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t …”
“You’re always sorry, Larry. You’re always so fonking sorry!” Nobosh yelled, with such ferocity he forced his son back a step. Nobosh’s face twisted as he mimicked his son’s voice. “I’m sorry, it’s not my fault, I couldn’t help it! You’re pathetic!”
“Hey, leave him alone!” Deenia said, then she bit her lip as the blaster was pressed more firmly against her head.
“Nobosh, let my daughter go,” Konto growled. “I am warning you!”
He tried getting to his feet again, but the blood loss was taking its toll now. The floor was made of rubber, and darkness was drawing a circle around his field of vision—a circle which was steadily getting smaller.
“I’ll trade you,” Nobosh said. “Send over Larry and I’ll give you the girl.”
Larry wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Why do you want me? You already said it, I’m no good for anything.”
“Because, like it or not, you’re my son,” Nobosh said. “We’ll get out of here. We’ll go … somewhere. I don’t know where. Besides, I need a hostage, and you’ll give me less trouble than this one.” He pulled sharply on Deenia’s hair, making her yelp.
“What about Mom?” Larry asked.
Nobosh rolled his eyes. “What about her? We don’t need her. We’ve never needed her. She’s even more useless than you are. Now get over here, now!”
Konto caught Larry by the shoulder and turned the boy around to face him. “You have to do it, Larry,” he said. “You need to make the swap. You have to do it.”
He spun Larry around to face his father, then reconsidered and turned him back. “I’m sorry, OK? There’s nothing I can do.”
Larry nodded his understanding, but said nothing. Konto turned him on the spot, then spun him back the opposite way. “But thank you, Larry. For everything you did. I couldn’t have got this far without you.”
He turned him back to face Nobosh, hesitated, then twirled him around again. “But don’t listen to him. Even if he tells you you’re useless, you aren’t. You’re a great kid, Larry.”
“Hurry up!” Nobosh snapped. “Send him over.”
Konto spun Larry one more time, then gave him a gentle push towards his father. Larry weaved unsteadily across the floor, and stopped when he reached Nobosh’s side.
“Now send over Deenia,” Konto said.
Nobosh sneered. “Idiot. Of course I won’t. Two hostages are better than one. I’d hoped to earn big on Larry’s kidnap insurance, but I’ll have to earn big some other way, instead. I hear some of the Remnants warlords pay big money for fresh-faced young—”
Bleeeeeuurrk!
Larry erupted. A torrent of vomit hit Nobosh side-on, splattering his belly and lower back. Nobosh jumped back in horror as the second wave of puke cascaded over his right leg and onto his expensive shoes.
Konto flicked out with his good arm. His knife whipped through the air. There was a hollow-sounding thonk as the handle hit Nobosh squarely between the eyes. He made a noise that was somewhere between a scream and a hiccup, then he toppled backwards, hitting the floor just in time for Larr
y to throw up on his chest.
Deenia stumbled forwards and threw herself at Konto. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he succeeded for several seconds to hide quite how much it hurt. “You came for me,” she sobbed, unwrapping her arms and letting him take her hands, instead. “You came for me.”
“I did,” Konto said. Behind him, the door was thrown wide. His heart leapt into his throat. Shock-troops!
“Wait!” he yelped, turning and shielding Deenia with his body. “Don’t shoot!”
Captain Howlanzer stood in the doorway, his hands raised. “No intentions to,” he said. He smiled. “Seems like someone messed up and sent the shock-troops to the wrong floor. They’re searching one of the under-construction decks right now. Probably blasting the place to bits, if past experience is anything to go by.”
With a grunt of relief, Konto sank to the floor. Miss Tresno appeared beside him and he felt pressure on his wound. Deenia knelt beside him, a worried look on her face. “I’m going to be fine,” he promised.
Deenia looked around the room. “You did all this? You fought everyone to save us?”
“Me? No,” said Konto, gritting his teeth as pain flared on his shoulder. He nodded to Larry, who had now finished throwing up. “We did. I couldn’t have done it without Larry.”
“He totally could have,” said Larry, waddling over to join them. “Do you know who your dad is, Deenia? Who he really is, I mean?”
Konto shook his head, but Miss Tresno chose just that moment to lean over him, blocking Larry’s view.
“Who?” asked Deenia.
“He’s the most awesome, kick-ass guy I’ve ever met,” said Larry. “That’s who.”
Miss Tresno moved, just a little, and Konto caught a glimpse of Deenia’s smile. “I know,” she whispered.
And with those two words rolling around inside his head, Konto Garr closed his heavy eyelids, and drifted off into a deeply satisfying sleep.
THE END
— — —
Want to read more by Barry j. Hutchison?
Check out the first book in Barry J. Hutchison’s Space Team saga.