by G J Ogden
“What did you just say?” said Griff, lowering his weapon to his side, and turning to face Cutler. He was surprised and angered by the mercenary’s sudden show of contempt for him. Especially after Griff had just saved his skin.
“I apologize if the truth hurts, Inspector,” said Cutler, though it did not sound like an apology. “But I’m tired of your bullshit. You’re just a sadist that likes to pick the wings off flies. You think that makes you a killer, but you’re just a bully.” Then Cutler pointed to Griff’s ID wallet, attached to his belt. “You hide behind the protection offered by that shield, but it will not help you here. And if your Superintendent Jane Wash decides to make an example of you, it will not protect you anywhere else either.”
Griff leaned in towards Cutler and glared into his cold, impassive eyes. “I don’t need any damn protection,” he spat back. “I’m a survivor,” he added, pointing his yellowed finger and tapping his chest angrily. “And if you keep pissing me off, you’ll see just how much of a killer I really am.”
Cutler stared into Griff’s eyes, without blinking. “We shall see, Inspector,” said the mercenary, making it sound almost like a challenge. “But understand this; without me, you wouldn’t survive here on your own for more than a couple of hours. Do not forget that.” Cutler then turned away and walked into the center of the slip-road, leaving Griff stunned and lost for words.
Griff peered up the ramp at the light from the pinkish sky, filtered through the protective dome, and set off after the mercenary. Then he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving in the darkness across the other side of the road. He raised his weapon, and a boy shuffled out of the gloom; he was perhaps no more than twelve or thirteen.
“Get out of here, kid,” Griff called over to him, but the boy just cupped his hands and held them out. Griff lowered his weapon, but then raised the back of his hand. “I mean it, get lost, I’ve got nothing for you.”
There was a sharp crack of a weapon firing, and Griff jolted around to see Cutler aiming into the darkness. The boy ran, and Griff saw the body of a man fall out of the shadows, from behind one of the support pillars. A pistol slid from his fingers, and skidded across the tarmac.
Griff watched Cutler lower his pistol and look at him. He realized he still had his hand raised, ready to strike the boy, despite the fact the rogue had already fled into the darkness.
“You did save my life, earlier,” said Cutler, holstering his weapon, “but now we are even.” Then Cutler turned and started to ascend the disused slip-road, back up to the surface level of the Gale Basin.
Griff stared at the body for a moment longer, then shoved the pistol back into his jacket pocket. “We’ll see who is the greater survivor,” he muttered under his breath, watching Cutler climb higher. Griff glanced at the briefcase, fleetingly contemplating picking it up, if only to prove a point, but then turned from it, and followed after Cutler.
Half-way up the slip-road, he cast an eye back to the body of the anonymous man that Cutler had shot. His death didn’t bother him, nor had the deaths of the two Council thugs, or anyone else he’d killed in the past. Griff had never been afraid to kill, if it got him what he wanted. However, Cutler had been right about one thing, and he cursed him for it. Because now Cutler had planted a kernel of doubt in his mind.
The RGF had provided Griff with a safety net, and it was true that he’d always done what he’d done knowing that the uniform protected him. And, if the shit really did hit the fan, he also knew that Wash would be there to back him up, even if it cost him in credits and favors. Because of this, he’d never really felt fear. Cutler had made him realize that all of this armor was rapidly eroding away. And without it, Griff was also ashamed to realize that for the first time in his life, he was truly afraid.
CHAPTER 21
Cutler had been right about the counterfeit ID he’d taken from the Council transport. Using it, Griff had managed to open a door to a service corridor that led directly into section thirteen. It had given them access to the shipyard district without needing to pass through the usual junction points. This had allowed them to avoid the facial ID scanners that might have alerted the Council to their new location. Importantly, the facial ID scanners were not active inside the shipyard district, in order to protect the identities of those dealing illicitly inside. Griff hoped that this would give them the window of opportunity they needed to acquire a new ship and escape.
Cutler had said little since the incident in the subterranean slip road, but Griff was in no mood to talk anyway. Their alliance remained intact, though it was more fragile than ever. The only thing that mattered was getting a new ship – one that was totally untraceable – and getting away from Mars. Then he would lay low on Earth and wait for the storm to blow over. He was sure that the CET and MP armadas would eventually deal with the titanic alien ship. And once the dust had settled, he’d reach out to Wash. If she refused to help him out of this mess, he’d try to do a deal with the CET instead. With the dirt he had on Wash – both her personal and professional deviances – plus the fact he could also turn over Cutler Wendell, he was sure there was a deal to be done. However, all of it relied on him escaping from the Basin, before the Council caught up with them again. After the destruction of Chrome One, and with the knowledge that he'd have to hand over his score to get a new ship, doing a deal with the Council now seemed a near impossibility.
“Yaeger’s shipyard is in that lot,” said Cutler, pointing to one of the many sectioned-off areas in the shipyard district. The whole place was like one giant parking lot, subdivided by low walls or makeshift barricades, which marked out the boundaries of the different ship dealers. There were repair hangars and workshops lining the fringes, plus the usual eateries and bars. It felt like a giant festival for spacecraft enthusiasts.
They entered Yaeger’s lot, and Griff scanned his eyes over some of the stock on display. Compared to the ships he could see on other nearby lots, Yaeger’s offerings seemed to be scraping the bottom of the bargain bucket.
“Can’t we buy a ship from one of these other places?” wondered Griff, gesturing to the many other, better options around them. “I’d be surprised if any of Yaeger’s hunks of crap could even make orbit.”
Cutler shot Griff an impatient look. “None of these other dealers will touch my ship now,” he said, making no attempt to hide his irritation. “Not after your mission made us the galaxy’s most wanted men. My FS-31 is simply too hot.”
“I didn’t do a damn thing,” Griff hit back. “It was your nutjob partner that messed up the crystal device. If we still had that, we’d still have some negotiating power. So, don’t blame me for this mess!”
Cutler shook his head, “I wish I had never answered your call on Brahms Three,” he answered, bitterly. “You have caused me nothing but trouble. Once we reach San Francisco, I will be glad to finally part ways.”
“Yeah, well you and me both,” Griff hit back. Then he pointed to a nearby shuttle that had fluid dripping steadily out from its fuselage. “But do you really want to go to Earth in that?”
Cutler didn’t look at the shuttle; he was focused on a trailer office about thirty meters away. “We have no choice. Yaeger’s stock may not be the best, but here we are not compelled to register our actual names and biometric scans. Nor do we have to add the ship’s ID to the public registry.” He then glanced at Griff and added, condescendingly, “But, if you want the Council to identify us and shoot us down the moment we depart, be my guest and select another lot.”
Griff plucked out a cigarette from the packet he had removed from the dead Council thug's body and stuck it into the corner of his mouth, “Fine, we’ll do it your way,” he conceded, before lighting the smoke. “Just so long as Yaeger doesn’t hate you enough to sell you a crapped out, cut-and-shut job.”
A woman stepped out of the trailer office unit inside the lot, and then stood looking at them, hands on her hips. Cutler did not acknowledge her in any way, and turned to Griff. “Let me do the talking
,” he said, forcefully, as the woman began to walk towards them.
Griff drew deeply on the cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke. He didn’t like that Cutler was giving him orders now, but he bit his tongue. So long as the mercenary secured a ship that didn’t blow up before reaching Earth, he didn’t care. Cutler would get his due eventually.
“You can turn around right now, you double-crossing asshole,” said Yaeger, stopping a few meters from Cutler and folding her arms. Griff continued to smoke, enjoying the embarrassed look on Cutler’s face. He’d immediately taken a liking to the woman. She and Cutler were probably a similar age, but Yaeger was much rougher around the edges. She’d probably clean up pretty well, Griff thought, checking her out casually. However, she was what the Martians ironically called an ‘alien’. It was a term given to someone who was too crude and uncouth to fit in to Martian society, no matter how rich they were. If it wasn’t for the Basin, Yaeger wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the red planet.
Yaeger glanced over to Griff, who realized he was smiling. “And what are you looking at, beanpole?” she snapped. “Peep shows are over on the boulevards.”
Griff opened his mouth to speak, but Cutler got there first. “Yaeger, just give me a minute, I promise it will be worth your while.”
“Oh, really?” said Yaeger, recoiling slightly. “Like when you said it would be ‘worth my while’ to hunt with you on Debussy Seven?” Then before Cutler could respond, Yaeger looked at Griff again, and said, “I don’t suppose he told you how he swindled me out of my score and left me for dead?” She paused as if waiting for Griff to answer, but then continued anyway. “Or how he stole my bloody ship?” Again, she looked at Griff expectantly for an answer, but didn’t give him an opportunity to provide one.
Yaeger then turned back to Cutler. “What happened to your other lacky? The one who could freeze a man’s balls off with her icy stare? Assuming she hadn’t cut them off first.”
“The ship is why I’m here,” Cutler replied, ignoring Yaeger’s other questions, particularly the one about Tory. “I want to trade it to you.”
Yaeger left another pregnant pause, then burst out laughing in Cutler’s face. “You must be shitting me? Why would I buy my own ship – that you stole – back off you?”
Cutler removed a small datapad from his pocket, and held it out to Yaeger. “Because I need your help,” he said, calmly, still waiting for Yaeger to take the pad.
The woman laughed again, then finally snatched the device from Cutler’s hand. Clearly, curiosity had gotten the better of her. “You’ve come to the wrong place if you want help,” Yaeger said, turning on the datapad and staring at the contents. Griff could just about make out that it was the FS-31’s manifest.
“I need a ship that is capable of travelling to Earth at reasonable speed,” Cutler continued, while Yaeger read the manifest. “Any ship, even of considerably lesser value than the FS-31, providing it can safely reach Earth.” Yaeger was silent for a moment, and was scowling down at the pad. “In return, I offer the FS-31 and its entire cargo.”
Yaeger let the pad drop to her side and scowled back at Cutler. “You’re including all of this alien shit, and the ship?” she asked, sounding skeptical. Cutler merely nodded. “And I can give you any one-g capable ship or shuttle from my lot in return?” Cutler nodded again.
Yaeger laughed. “You’re in some sort of trouble, ain’t you? You came here because you needed something off grid. And you thought I’d help, because I’d enjoy ripping you off and rubbing your face in it?”
Cutler sighed, and then said, “Was I wrong?”
Yaeger snorted and slapped the datapad against her oil-stained cargo pants. “Nope! You’re dead right, asshole!” Then she laughed again. “What is it, some Council trouble?” Cutler didn’t answer, but then Yaeger seemed to have an epiphany. “Wait a minute, haven’t I heard about you two?” she said, rubbing her chin and smearing oil across it. “You and the asshole with the slug on his top lip are the ones who found that new portal. The one that’s sent the MP and CET militaries into a tizzy, right?”
“Do you want the deal or not?” growled Cutler, and Griff could clearly see now that he was losing patience. As much as Griff had been enjoying seeing Cutler brought down a peg or two, he was also anxious to get going. Besides, Yaeger was now leveling insults indiscriminately at him too, and his tolerance for abuse was considerably lower than Cutler’s was.
“Oh, I want the deal, asshole,” she said, suddenly becoming more serious. “But it’s going to cost you something extra. I want that alien crystal I’ve heard about too. Rumor has it, that’s the thing that opens portals.”
Griff felt a lump harden in his throat, but he didn’t react. Glancing over to Cutler, he saw that his expression also gave nothing away.
“I no longer have it,” Cutler replied, coolly. “The RGF took it back from me, after we opened the portal to Chrome One.”
Yaeger’s eyes narrowed and her jaw sharpened. “Now, now, Cutler. I thought we were starting afresh here? Lying to me will likely mean our business dealings won’t end well.”
Cutler did not flinch. “The deal is the FS-31, plus all of the alien artefacts in the hold – the value of which is considerable. You walk away from this significantly richer, and you get to humble me. What more could you want?”
“I want that damn crystal,” said Yaeger, and the corner of her mouth turned up a fraction as she added, “and another one hundred thousand for my trouble.”
Cutler’s eyes narrowed, but he held firm. “Now you are being ridiculous. I told you, I do not have it…”
Yaeger shrugged and blew out an elaborate sigh. “Then no deal. Good luck trading your ship off-grid with one of the other dealers,” she said, turning around and walking back to her trailer office. “Especially after I tell them how hot your FS-31 is with the Martian authorities…”
Griff could see Cutler’s hands ball into fists, and for a second he thought he was going for his weapon. Shit… he thought. He’d underestimated just how prideful Cutler was.
“Wait!” Griff called out to Yaeger, causing both her and Cutler to stare at him. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette to the floor and then reached into his jacket pocket. Removing one half of the fractured crystal, he held it out to Yaeger, “Here, take the damned thing,” he said, reluctantly. “And I’ll give you the credits too.”
Yaeger smiled and sashayed back over to them, before wagging a mocking finger at Cutler. “See, I knew you were lying,” she said, clearly loving every moment of her revenge. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Griff stepped closer, still holding out the crystal fragment. “He wasn’t lying,” he said, as Yaeger turned to him. “The RGF did reclaim the crystal. I’m RGF.” Then he took the ID wallet off his belt, and showed Yaeger his card and shield.
Yaeger looked at the ID and nodded, before smiling up at Griff. “From what I hear, after your little stunt at Chrome One, that pretty little shield won’t be worth the metal it’s made from soon.”
Griff gritted his teeth and fastened the ID back to his belt. He held up the crystal again, “Do we have a deal?”
Griff had more than enough credits from selling Liberty to the Council. He still begrudged handing them over, but the bigger issue was parting with the crystal fragment. Without both halves of the crystal, Griff knew his negotiating position with Wash would be pretty much non-existent. However, the other crystal fragment, plus turning in Cutler, and offering to air Wash’s dirty laundry, might still be enough to get him a deal with the CET authorities. It was a chance he was willing to take.
Yaeger held Griff’s eyes for a moment, soaking up all of his obvious discomfort like warm rays of sunlight, before her moment of triumph was over. Then she plucked the crystal from Griff’s fingers and shoved it into her breast pocket.
Griff pointed a nicotine-stained finger at Yaeger, “But if I’m giving you the credits too, you’d better not offload some hunk of crap shuttle on me, like that
one over there.” Griff moved his finger in the direction of the leaking ship.
“Relax clobber,” said Yaeger, “I’ll give you something that will make it back to Earth.” Then she smiled again, “But after that, I ain’t making any promises.”
Griff scowled at her, but Yaeger had already turned her grinning face towards Cutler. She held out her hand, making a sort of grabbing motion with it. Cutler sighed again, and removed the FS-31’s ID fob from his belt. Pressing his thumb to the fob, and holding it up to his eye, he reset the ownership data, then slapped it into Yaeger’s hand.
Yaeger smiled even more broadly, before waving the ID fob at Cutler, like a trophy. “Now, asshole, we have a deal.”
CHAPTER 22
Morphus had accompanied Liberty inside its ship, and begun the augmentation that would allow her to pilot the prototype Revocater. Tobin had gone with her; his first duty in his role as Liberty’s moral support. Tory, meanwhile, was still inside the Orion, running the launch checklist along with some diagnostics, and generally getting acquainted with the ship. Hudson, on the other hand, found himself alone and at a loose end.
His first thought was to take a moment to reflect on everything that had happened. However, the enormity of recent events, plus the scale of what they still had to do, was too much to take in. In many ways, the less he thought about the magnitude of the task ahead of them, the better. So, instead, he’d decided to unplug and unwind, for as long as he could get away with it.
Hudson was sitting on the grass in front of the Orion, resting back against a rock with an ice-bucket of beers at his side. The sky had cleared, the wind had eased, and the sun was starting to set. Yet, despite the autumn freshness in the air, he didn’t feel cold. The nearby scavenger town was also ominously silent, due to most of the hunters having fled in a panic. As a result, the planet felt oddly peaceful, despite essentially being on the front line of the impending battle with Goliath.