Renn smiled. “Not much. All I want is the master authorization code for your computer.”
A frown creased Shinto's handsome brow. “And then?”
“And then I'll make a com call to a friend of mine. He'll use the code to transfer ten million Imperial credits to my account. And once he's done that, he'll take your data bank and dump it into the Earth Central Mainframe.”
All color drained from Shinto's tanned cheeks. “The ten million would hurt, but it’s only a fraction of my wealth, as I'm sure you know. It doesn't please me, but I could live with it. Your other demand, however, is totally unreasonable.”
Shinto knew, as Renn did, that once the data was dumped into Earth Central, a warrant would be issued for his arrest. In seconds Earth Central would store the data, analyze it, and conclude that Shinto Enterprises was in violation of all sorts of laws. Within minutes a small army of planetary police would be dispatched and Shinto would be taken into custody.
“Yup,” Renn replied cheerfully. “It's totally unreasonable, and it's also what I call ‘justice'.”
Shinto looked down at the floor as if studying his feet. His voice was as cold as durasteel. “I'm sorry Citizen Renn. I thought you might be a reasonable man. Capable of putting childish emotion aside and dealing with reality, I respected you, liked your courage, and even considered allowing you to leave here with the ten million. I was wrong. You are stupid. Bruno, kill them.”
As Shinto spoke, a shield made of armored plastic slammed down from above, protecting him from Renn's .75.
Quiet until now, Bruno came to sudden life, his right arm swinging upwards and transforming itself into a laser cannon. Renn wasn't surprised. Once identified, an Auto Guard is still an Auto Guard, no matter what kind of clothes it wears. And an Auto Guard is an ultra-expensive arsenal of weapons quite capable of dealing with a full section of Imperial Marines.
Marla snarled, and started forward, even as Renn squeezed the tiny black box concealed in his left hand. The demo charge made a loud cracking sound as it cut the Auto Guard in two. The top half of the robot seemed to topple in slow motion, hitting the plush carpet with a soft thud. Some sort of black hydraulic fluid pumped out of a section of severed tubing to stain Shinto's immaculate carpet. Meanwhile, Bruno's bottom half whirred and jerked slightly, as a still functioning servo tried to carry out its last orders.
As Marla skidded to a stop, Renn turned back towards Shinto, and said, “Oops ... I spoiled your rug. Sorry about that, but when I detected Bruno's antisocial tendencies, I took the liberty of slipping a small surprise into his coat pocket.”
Shinto was silent, his eyes locked on Bruno's corpse, his handsome features sagging slightly as he realized there was no way out.
Suddenly Renn's smile was gone leaving only hard lines behind. “I think that's enough of your bullshit. Let's have the code. Or should I have Marla come around that shield and take you apart?”
* * * *
It was a beautiful day. And why not? He was a millionaire, he'd just finished an excellent breakfast in one of many fine restaurants the ancient Swiss city had to offer, and had enjoyed a nice walk along the beautiful lake. Best of all was the short article on page one of the news fax tucked under his left arm. Renn knew the words by heart and threw it into a recycler as he passed:
PROMINENT BUSINESSMAN FOUND GUILTY
Citizen Shinto, the well-known philanthropist, businessman, and owner of Shinto Enterprises, has been found guilty of fraud, theft, and tax evasion, and sentenced to life imprisonment on a prison planet. For more details, watch Imperial News Vid at three.
Who knows? Maybe the miserable bastard would end up on Swamp. Smiling at the thought, Renn rounded a corner, and saw the cybernetics clinic. In spite of its function, the building looked more like a classic hotel than a clinic. Cyborgs and people came and went through the huge bronze doors in a never-ending swirl of metal and flesh.
Renn was halfway up the broad stairs fronting the building when the doors burst open, and a young brunette ran out, laughing with joy. Spotting Renn, she waved and then spun like a model, causing her pleated skirt to swing wide, revealing long slim legs. Then she was in his arms, her softness crushed against his chest, her lips meeting his.
And in a bar on a planet far, far away, a man with a horribly scarred face stood before his just completed mural, and proposed another toast. “Friends, this one is for Jonathan Renn and Marla Marie Mendez, wherever they may be. God bless them and keep them.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1989 by William C. Dietz
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-0676-0
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Prison Planet Page 24