by Kal Spriggs
“Your leg?”
“My leg,” Simon nodded. He concealed the locks from me with his body and opened the container. “Give me a hand?” He asked.
I pulled the door open for him. He limped inside and then waved at me to follow. The space inside the container was crowded with boxes, crates, and lockers. There was barely room to move. Simon paused outside a locker and pressed his thumb against a battered looking lockpad, which clicked open a moment later. “Here,” he pulled it open and then reached inside. He pulled out a long metal splinter, the wider end wrapped with a bit of wire, and handed it to me.
“What?” I asked, staring at him in surprise.
Simon's dark eyes looked like hollow pits in the dim light. “I said this might mean a war. You need weapons to fight a war. This is a knife.”
“I realized that,” I snapped, “I don't know anything about fighting someone with a knife.”
“The pointy end goes in the other person,” Simon smirked.
“Thanks,” I took it, feeling uncomfortable. I'd had some basic survival training at Academy Prep School, where we'd handled knives as tools, even some basics on hunting... but that had all been oriented towards survival on Century. The wildlife, with the exception of a few relatively rare apex predators, was small. I knew how to make a spear or a snare for hunting small game. I knew how to use a rifle or pistol to fight humans. I'd not really even thought about fighting a person with a knife.
I was going to use the archeology picks to attack Wessek's people, I reminded myself. Yet while I'd been prepared to do that, it seemed different, somehow, to think about jabbing a pointy bit of metal into another boy or girl who happened to belong to the wrong gang.
“Here,” Simon passed me a plastic sheath, made from a bit of tarp or something. “Keep it in that, and keep it hidden. Blasted Black Cloaks will take you down if they see you walking around with it in your hand.”
“About that,” I began, but he ignored me and limped deeper into the narrow row between the boxes and crates. “Jonna told me the full story...”
“Did she?” Simon scoffed. “So she told you the Red Badges keep the peace and about the Heart, eh? Where everyone lives lives of happiness and plenty?” The tone of his voice could have peeled paint.
“I don't know about that,” I went on stubbornly, “but she said the people who live there have access to medical care, jobs, she said you could live there...”
Simon spun, his face flushed, “She said that did she?” Bright spots of red appeared on his pale cheeks, “Jonna's got stars in her eyes. They sent my brother off to some worthless rock to fight dirt-farmers. He died there... and they offered me a new leg, a job as a clerk. A clerk!” Simon sneered. “You think that's a fair trade? I sure don't.”
I looked away from him, unable to meet his angry gaze. “Look, I don't know--”
“You're right, you don't,” Simon hissed. “You have no idea. The Heart might look like a paradise, up on the mountain, but I'd rather live on the streets here than be a happy little drone there any day.”
“Sorry I said anything,” I told him.
“You should be,” Simon turned away. “And Jonna should have known better than to say anything about me. She should know better about the Heart, anyway, what with what happened to her family.”
“What?” I asked.
Simon froze and he darted a look over his shoulder at me. “I forget how much of a fos you are. Forget I said that.” He swallowed and a look of genuine worry crossed his gaunt face. “Really. Forget I said anything about her parents. Not my place to talk.”
“Fine,” I told him, more confused than anything.
“Here we are,” Simon nodded at a crate, seemingly willing to let it drop. “Too heavy for me to get it one handed and,” he patted the stump of his missing leg, “can't hop around one-legged very well. Get that and carry it out, eh?”
“Sure,” I told him. I grabbed the heavy box, grunting at the weight, and carried it out of the container. I set it down out front and straightened, just in time to find Jonna and a couple other Ragabonds staring at me.
“You're back, then?” Jonna asked, her tone neutral. I could barely make out her expression in the dimness of the room. I wondered how much of my conversation with Simon.
“Yes,” I answered.
She sniffed a bit, “You still stink, but you'll have to do.” She looked over at Simon as he limped out. “This is it?” Simon gave her a nod and she looked back at me. “Pick it up. You're coming with us, we've got a meeting with the Crooked Daggers.”
“Wait, what?” I asked in surprise.
“It's a peace offering,” she said, turning away. “Hopefully that will be enough to head off a war with Francis. If not, you're the other half.”
“Me?” I asked in shock. I heard Simon snicker.
Jonna turned back to face me. “There's twenty kids in this gang,” she told me. “You and your friend make twenty-two. There's thirty Crooked Daggers, and most of them are bigger, meaner, and more violent than us. They're better fighters, they've got more numbers. If this comes to a war, we won't win, especially if some other gangs pile in. So I'm going to make peace to avoid that, if possible.”
I swallowed. I could well imagine what Francis would do if Jonna turned me over. “Why should I come?”
“Because if you don't, I'll turn you and your friend out on the streets. And we'll push you both into Crooked Dagger territory anyway. I think Francis will be good with the tribute. This is mostly about an apology. But there's a chance that he won't.”
I swallowed. She wasn't giving me any options. Getting stabbed to death on the streets of the Barrens over a gang war that I'd inadvertently triggered didn't sound like a good way to go.
“Fine,” I told her, picking up the box, “let's get this over with.”
“Good,” Jonna turned away. The two boys on either side of her moved to either side of me, clearly there to make sure I didn't try to run for it as soon as we got outside. “Let's get this over with.”
***
Chapter 15: I Only Thought I Hated This Planet
We met in a deserted alleyway, in a spot where it widened out between several buildings, almost like a courtyard, before narrowing again and winding out of sight. It was a normal day on Drakkus, which was to say it was miserable, gray, cold, and rainy. I would have said I was coming to hate the planet, but I was long past that. I'd hated it before I'd even known where I was. I'd hated it before I knew the details of the planet.
As we stood waiting in the rain, I reflected that I hated the cold. I hated the damp. I hated that I couldn't trust anyone. I hated that I had to fight tooth and nail for any scrap of peace. I hated the bulky, awkward weight of the heavy box I carried. I hated the stupid patchwork cloak and the sodden clothing I wore. I hated everything about this place.
I wanted desperately to go home. Some part of me just wanted to give up. Another part told me to turn and run, to just run and run until I couldn't run anymore. I ignored those parts. I had to do this and if I managed to survive, then I could go home.
Francis and his Crooked Daggers came down into the courtyard from above, dropping down on ropes and cables. Francis swaggered at the front, his spotted face and spiky hair standing out among his street gang. He wasn't very tall and he was fairly skinny. I suppressed the urge to attack him and beat that smirk off his face. We were here to make peace, for the war that I'd almost started.
Telling myself that didn't help much though as he came to a stop a couple of meters away, the four of his gang flanking him. “Well,” he cocked his hips out, throwing his hands out in a gesture that was meant to be intimidating, I suppose, “you're here to beg for some mercy?”
Jonna simply stared at him. I'd been the recipient of that stare before. It was like she looked through you and I could see the impact it had on Francis. His confident smirk changed to something more sickly and worried and his posture shifted to something rather more defensive. He dropped his hands to his hips and I'd guess
they were close to where he had concealed weapons. “I'm here to make things right,” Jonna told him. “We shouldn't have trespassed in your territory and we shouldn't have attacked you when we did.”
She gestured at me, “I think the fos got some Phog in his lungs or something. It won't happen again.”
Francis darted a look at me and he noted the box I held in my hands. “A gift, eh?” He licked his lips and I could see him evaluate the expressions of his people. This was as much for their benefit as anyone else's, I realized. Francis had been beaten by Jonna and I, he had to show that he was still tough, still dangerous, or his own gang might turn on him.
“Let's see it,” Francis said after a moment.
I set the box down and shoved it so it slid a meter or so. One of Francis's boys came up and grabbed it, dragging it the rest of the way. Francis gestured at him and the boy opened the top. The boy gave a whistle as he drew back the flaps on top and pulled out a plastic-wrapped package. I saw dozens of glass vials, tightly wrapped and sealed, along with what looked like a pistol-style injector. “This the good stuff?” Francis asked, taking the package and hefting it. The gold liquid inside sloshed around, sparkles and bubbles catching and reflecting more light than I would have thought possible in the murky alleyway.
“Saved for trade goods, yeah,” Jonna nodded.
“I'm going to check the codes,” Francis stared at her. She gave him a nod and he pulled out a small comm unit and started reading off a coded number on the packaging.
“What is that stuff?” I asked quietly.
Jonna didn't look over at me. “Rex Prime.”
“Drugs?” I choked. Francis and his guys looked at me and I realized I must have spoken a bit louder than I'd intended. I lowered my voice, “You never said we were drug dealers.”
Jonna darted a look at me, “We do what we need to do to survive. And Francis and the Crooked Daggers use Rex Prime. A good number of the street gangs use it or sell it.”
“What about you?” I asked.
She shook her head slightly, “I don't need Rex.”
I didn't know if I believed her or not. There were all kinds of nasty drugs out there. Everyone had heard of Rex, though. Rex Tertius was bad enough, the stuff was supposed to “enhance” someone's mental abilities, but everyone had heard stories about it driving people insane and making them violently delusional and paranoid. Rex Secundus was supposed to have fewer side effects with greater enhancements: faster reaction time, greater mental acuity, problem-solving, even greater creativity. Rex Prime was supposedly some kind of combat-drug. It enhanced physical strength and mental abilities, it increased confidence and practically erased fear... and my sister had nearly been killed by some drugged up officer who'd been using it back at the Academy. I felt a bit sick to my stomach as I counted all those vials. “How many doses is that?”
She shrugged, “Ten per vial, if they're not overusing it. Twenty vials per package. Simon told me we had thirty packages in that box. Six thousand, give or take?”
I fought the urge to throw up. That stuff was supposed to be almost one hundred percent addictive with one dose. There was enough of it there to make an entire town into addicts. “What are they going to do with all that?” I ground out.
She shrugged, “Sell it, use it, I don't care. It was a windfall, one of the smaller Houses got hit by another and we found this picking through the debris. I was saving it to sell for some real money, maybe we could have even used it to buy you a ticket off-world.” She shot me a look as she said that.
That hit me like a physical blow. I had no idea what that stuff was worth, but if it was really worth that much... This was as much a slap in my face as a way to make Francis back off. She was showing me that I should have played along, should have listened to her more. She could have helped me and Ted to go home... if I'd played along. I'm an idiot.
“I'm sorry,” I told her.
She seemed satisfied by my apology. “Just as well. It's too dangerous to move that much easily,” she shrugged, “we don't have the contacts for it, anyway, and if it buys goodwill with the Crooked Daggers, then it's well spent.”
I wondered if I could be as sanguine over the loss of something so valuable. Somehow, I doubted it. Maybe there was more to Jonna than I'd thought. “Thanks for not turning me over first, then the drugs,” I said in a low voice, so only she would hear.
Jonna smirked a bit, “Oh, believe me, the thought had crossed my mind. But you're new here, fos, so I doubt Francis would have gone for that. If he didn't like my first gift well enough, then I probably wouldn't get the chance to offer him up a second one.” She rolled her eyes upwards, not changing expression or gesturing, just a little thing that got me to look up. “Francis came with some more people on the rooftops, probably his best fighters.”
I glanced upwards and caught a hint of movement on the rooftops above us. Apparently this was a bit dicier than expected.
“Numbers check out,” Francis said. “I'll want to test them.”
“You can do that back at your place,” Jonna told him. “You know where to find me.”
“You mean I risk this stuff being poison and you laughing while some of my boys curl up like bugs?” Francis’s face darkened with anger, “No, you stay right here while we test this... on one of your people.”
“Out of the question,” Jonna snapped at him. I saw her hand drop to her belt and I wondered if she had a knife there, like I did now.
I pretended to scratch behind my ear and looked back over my shoulder, picking out two more of the Crooked Daggers behind us. And then, because I was looking that way, I noticed something else. It was a long, sleek skimmer. But unlike the Red Badge skimmer, this one was open-topped, and a dozen or more people clung to it as it drifted over the rooftops, the turbines whining... and it was coming down out of the murky clouds straight towards us.
I stared at it, making out the shape of some sort of cannons mounted on it. “What is that?!” The people clinging to the skimmer's top and sides wore brightly colored clothing, with spiked hair and tattoos that covered their pale faces.
Jonna spun, “Don't interrupt...” Her eyes widened, though. “Hunters!”
I didn't understand what she meant, but everyone froze and stared up at the descending skimmer. “Hunters!” Someone shouted, “Run!”
Jonna gave me a shove and then everyone was running. We ran right past Francis and his guys, one of them fumbling with the box of Rex, the others starting to run with us down the alleyway. I could hear the turbines, now, pitched so that they almost sounded like screams. Over the sound of those turbines I heard what sounded like manic laughter. I looked over my shoulder as I ran, stumbling a bit on the wet concrete of the alleyway.
A Hunter had angled one of the cannons, aiming it by hand down towards the boy who was still fumbling with the box of Rex. He fired it as I watched, extending some sort of hook or claw that latched around the boy's chest. A moment later, the skimmer flew overhead, dragging the screaming boy upwards into the air on an attached cable.
I heard a sharp twang and another grapnel shot overhead, whipping past me and striking someone ahead with a meaty thud. I looked forward just in time to see Danggar dragged screaming into the air, the girl's patchwork cloak flapping as the hunter's pulled her upwards. I skidded to a halt, trying to see if there was some way to help her, but Jonna shoved me forward, “Too late for her, move!”
The alleyway narrowed and the skimmer was coming around for another pass. Francis and his Crooked Daggers milled in the narrow space with Jonna, Murfee, and I, shoving and fighting to move as the grapnel cannons fired again. Two of Francis's boys were pulled upwards with screams of pain and terror.
Now there were only six of us and we sprinted as fast as we could. The alleyway split and I started to follow Jonna, but someone shoved me hard and I tripped, falling and tangling in the feet of two others, all of us sliding and skidding on the damp wet concrete.
The open-topped skimmer was coming ba
ck around and I pushed myself backwards until my back struck a wall behind me. There was a bit of a ledge above me, just a slight overhang from the building. I caught movement and saw Francis and one of his guys were next to me, they'd both crawled into the same scrap of shelter, all of us panting in fear and exhaustion.
The screaming turbine engines hung above us. I could hear other screams, now, too, though if it was from the kids they'd taken or other people in the area, I wasn't sure.
“Hunters?” I mouthed at Francis. Any hate he and I might have had for one another vanished in the face of this threat.
“They're elite of the Houses, of the strongest of the Pirate Houses,” he panted. Hot exhaust washed down on us from above. The skimmer must be hovering almost directly above us. “They hunt people in the Barrens, for fun, for sport.” He licked his lips, “No one knows what they do to the ones they take.”
I hate this place. There's no hope. I should just give up. The thought washed through me and I felt the strangest impulse, almost a desire to end this. I found myself starting to lean forward, to emerge from hiding, to let them see me. No sooner did I realize it than I cowered back. I wasn't going to let them take me. I was going to get through this. I was going to get home.
I looked over at Francis and the other boy with him. Both of them were leaning forward. Francis's eyes were half closed. I reached out and shook his shoulder and his eyes snapped open. A look of anger washed over his face and for a moment, I thought he was going to try to throw me out in the open.
I pointed at his companion, who was squatting, about to rise and step out of cover. “Idiot,” he snapped at him, grabbing him and pulling him back.
The skimmer hovered there for what felt like eternity. The screams above dropped off, then the laughter seemed to redouble. A moment later, I heard the pitch of the turbine engines climb higher and the craft moved off. I started to lean out to look, but Francis reached out and caught my shoulder. He shook his head, “They sometimes pretend to leave and just circle back. Better to wait.”