by Kal Spriggs
“Not if we disable their skimmers,” I told him.
“Oh, right, and how are we supposed to do that, huh?” Francis shook his head, “Just walk right up to them and ask them nicely to turn off their engines?”
“Me,” a light voice spoke from above and behind them.
Francis and Jonna both spun. Francis had his knife out and Jonna had drawn two small blades from inside her sleeves. Lokka gave a laugh and flitted his tail at them. “Neither of you saw him, right?” I asked. “He crept in here while we were talking, through the only door in the room,” I hiked a thumb over my shoulder. “Which means he moved through the area you were staring at while I talked.”
The pair of them looked sheepishly at one another. “Oh, and I'm so glad you listened to my whole no weapons terms,” I noted. I was relatively certain that Francis would cut my throat if he saw advantage in it. I was somewhat less certain that Jonna wouldn't.
Francis rolled his eyes and slid his long knife back in its hidden sheath. “Yeah. I don't go anywhere without a weapon.”
Jonna didn't bother to answer as she slid the two knives back up her sleeves. “Lokka and a few other civets can sneak aboard the skimmers and disable them.”
Francis started laughing, “Okay, that's hilarious. You really had me going there, I mean...” He trailed off as he realized that I wasn't laughing with him. “Wait, you're serious? My backup is a furry little skunk-rat?”
“Civet,” Lokka corrected from above him.
“Whatever,” Francis growled. “No, this is crazy. You're both nuts if you think this is going to work. I mean, this fos has to pull off the hardest part and he talks like he's still on the farm. Worse, he wants us to put our lives on the line in the hopes that some skunk-rats--”
“Civets,” Lokka corrected him again.
“--will magically slip past armed guards, disable skimmers, and what, slip away unnoticed?”
“Lokka?” I asked.
The civet yawned. He threw me a datapad. “Boring.” He dropped to the floor and sauntered away.
I held up the datapad, “Yours?”
Francis's face darkened in anger. “How...” He pawed at his jacket. “You little...” He trailed off as he considered it. Finally, after a long, thoughtful look at the civet, he reached out and took the datapad out of my hands. “I'd check it out,” I noted.
He looked it over, then frowned as it didn't start up. “Lokka?” I asked.
The civet tossed a battery pack on the floor. “Easy. Boring.”
I cocked an eyebrow at Francis, who shot me a sour look, “Now he's just showing off.”
“Alright, if there's no further arguments?” I asked. “Then we need to get a few things together and there's not a lot of time.” I looked at Jonna, “Can your people take care of their parts?”
She nodded, “But if there's a storm coming, we're going to need to take some special precautions, the tunnels are probably going to flood. But we can do it.”
“Good,” I looked at Francis, “Well?”
“We can do it. We’ve even got the guns, but moving them to that part of town will be dicey.” Francis growled. “Just make sure your furry friend there does his part or we'll be hanging in the wind.”
“One more thing,” I said, “I'm going to need a gun and a shock stick, to get my part done.”
“I'll take care of it,” Francis shrugged. “Now,” He reached down and picked up his battery pack and held it up along with his datapad, “Can your little friend fix this? I kind of need it.”
***
Chapter 20: The Deal Of A Lifetime
It had taken a lot of work to get everything ready and everyone in position. A few times, I'd worried that it was all going to fall apart. The civets didn't care about money. I wasn't sure if they didn't understand the concept or if they just didn't care. I'd finally talked Lokka around by talking about how many neat toys he could probably steal off the skimmers, plus a reminder that the Hunters would probably be there and disabling their skimmers would be good revenge. He'd seemed aloof, but he had told me that he and several other civets would show up.
I just hoped that was true. Francis and his Crooked Daggers had followed through, but there'd been a lot of issues between them and the Vagabonds... everything from scuffles to drawn weapons leading up to this. That had taken Francis and Jonna looking over everyone's shoulders to keep them on track.
But now, here we were, the storm starting to rumble outside and Jonna and I squatted in a narrow utility tunnel that emerged behind the factory's old administration offices. “You think this is going to work?” Jonna asked.
I tugged at the sleeves of my new shirt, the rough fabric itching against my skin. I'd washed off as best as I could. Jonna had cut my hair, matching my description as closely as she could manage. “If not, you and Francis should have plenty of warning to make your escape.”
“No worries there,” Jonna snorted. “If I hear you get killed, I'll be out of here before your body hits the ground.”
I wasn't really expecting some promise of revenge, but I guess I would have liked some kind of sympathy if things went that route. Still, I thought I could pull my part off well enough. The big questions for me was whether Francis' Crooked Daggers and the civets each did their parts.
My hand fell to my new synth-leather belt, and the holsters on it. The pistol was cold as my fingers traced over the grip. It wasn't much of a pistol, clearly built out of scrap, but I'd had a chance to practice firing it at least and I had a full magazine of five rounds.
The heavy weight of the shock stick was a different thing entirely. It was a big, cumbersome thing and I was half tempted to leave it behind, but that would be awful silly after asking Francis to bring it.
Jonna clearly realized what I was thinking about as I fiddled with the weapons on my belt. “Why'd you ask Francis for those, anyway? You know I could have gotten them just as easily.”
“You told me the Red Badges don't like street gangs having real weapons,” I told her. “If someone got caught bringing them, I would have rather it was one of the Crooked Daggers and not one of your people.”
“Hmmm,” Jonna eyed me, “that's remarkably calculating, from you.”
I shrugged, “I had a good teacher.”
Jonna threw her head back and laughed, “Now that's sucking up.” She shook her head, “Besides, I'm too soft. I shouldn't have gone along with this plan. Too much risk to my people. I'm not calculating enough,” She sighed, “but it would be nice if it worked.”
“Yeah, it really would,” I considered it. Thousands of Marks? Ted and I could go home. It was a shock as I tried to visualize that and I really couldn't. I wasn't going to go back to Black Mesa Outpost. There was nothing there for me, not now. Maybe I'd live with the Admiral, but I was having a hard time picturing that, too. In fact, the very idea seemed distant and strange, somehow, like a year here on Drakkus had muted my thoughts of Century.
I'm going home, I told myself. I'd even sent Ted to Athan, and he'd set things up for us to get our new, clean implants. He had told Ted that as long as we had his money within the next day or so, he’d be ready for us.
Of course, he’d also implied that if we didn’t have the money, he’d do something terrible to us in return. I really hoped there’d be enough out of this to cover his cost.
I straightened and took a deep breath as the storm rolled in overhead. The entire factory shuddered in response. A few moments later, I heard the scream of skimmers, just barely audible over the rumble of the storm. I swallowed, looking over at Jonna, “Showtime.”
***
I emerged from the utility conduit and climbed out onto a narrow ledge tucked up under the rafters. It was right above the old overseer's office, which overlooked the factory floor. The big room was lined with a broad set of windows, many of them still holding intact glass. We had assumed that the meeting would take place there, and as I peeked over the ledge, I saw that we'd guessed right. About a dozen or so of Wes
sek's men were present. I looked down the way and spotted a dozen or more Black-Cloaks approaching along the catwalk, the rusty frame swaying a bit from their combined weight.
I probably had only a few minutes while both groups checked each-other out, before the leaders of their two groups came up. I slipped quietly off of the ledge and then down through the open vent cover and into the old administrative offices for the factory.
I dropped lightly to the floor, careful to make as little noise as possible. I heard voices from the next room and I bit my lip in anticipation. Moving up to the open doorway, I recognized Vars' voice, his harsh accent angry, “I don't care how much rain is coming down, I want your full team at the back door when my father's ground car pulls up.”
Father... I bit my tongue at that. I hadn't expected Wessek to be back in time for this meeting. This could change everything. Still, it was too late to call it off. As soon as I'd crawled out, Jonna would have given the signal to hers and Francis's people.
Whoever he'd been barking orders at gave him a sharp reply and I heard footsteps as they went out of the office and, presumably, up onto the roof. I darted a glance around the doorframe. As I'd hoped, Vars was alone, now, the tall, olive-skinned man pacing slightly as he waited. His red and black-trimmed uniform made more sense, now, that I'd seen the Pirate Houses. It was an inverted House uniform, blood red in place of black and black in place of the House color. I wasn't sure which House had that color red, but this was Wessek's way to imply that he was as important as one of the Houses... without actually crossing any lines.
I reached over and picked up a bit of rubble and tossed it in the corner. Vars spun, his dark eyes alert as I dropped back behind the doorframe. I could see his shadow cast up against the back wall of the closet. His hand dropped to the pistol holstered at his belt and he came over, his boots disturbingly quiet on the concrete floor. “Who's there?” He demanded.
He paused, just short of the doorway. I held still, not moving, not breathing, just watching his shadow through the doorway. Finally, he took a last step forward and I came around the doorway. I wasn't certain if he had expected an attack of some kind or not, but he had his pistol drawn, standing there. Yet as he saw me and how I was dressed, his eyes widened, “What...”
I hit him with the shock stick. The heavy metal rod caught him in the stomach and drove the air out of his lungs, and then I toggled the switch. Vars grunted and stiffened as ten thousand volts jolted through his body. He fell face first to the floor, smashing his nose. I knew he wasn't unconscious, just temporarily incapacitated, so I pulled the cords out of my pocket and began tying his hands and feet, then dragged him into the small back room. He was starting to struggle so I took a step back and hit him in the back with the shock stick, jabbing him with it and grinding it into his spine as I triggered the shocks. I probably did it with more force that was strictly necessary, but Vars wasn't exactly my favorite person. As he finally went limp, I tied a rag in his mouth and then went back to tying his hands and feet. He started struggling again, and this time I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the floor a few times until he went limp. What can I say? Vars really wasn't my favorite person in the world.
After I'd worked out a bit of pent up anger, I picked up his pistol, tucking mine down one of my new synth-leather boots. I put his pistol in my holster, then dropped the shock stick in the corner. Vars hadn't been carrying one, after all. Then I went out into the main room, picking up Vars' comm unit from where I'd seen him set it down. I paused, looking at the dirty, streaked mirror that we'd moved into the room for just this purpose. I straightened the blood-red uniform, trimmed as it was in black. As close a match as I could describe to Jonna's people, who'd put it together just barely in time. They'd done every detail I'd mentioned, from the black trim to the cut designed to make my shoulders look broader. Jonna had cut my hair as closely as she could to what I'd seen of Vars when I'd spotted him at the previous meeting. It wasn't a perfect disguise. I was taller than Vars, if a bit thinner. I was paler, too, I thought, from months and months spent on Drakkus, away from real sunlight. But I hoped the disguise was good enough to pass in the dim light of the warehouse, with the distraction of the storm outside and all the worry about possible betrayals from their new business partners.
I hadn't counted on Wessek being here, though. If anyone would see through the disguise and realize that I wasn't Vars...
I almost walked out. I almost gave up. But this was my plan. I couldn't walk away, not now. I looked back at the unconscious Vars and fingered the pistol grip, tucked in the holster on my belt. It didn't fit, not quite, but that wasn't why I was checking it. It would be a simple thing to go back there and take care of Vars. I'd even put a plastic jug back there for that purpose, to fire into and muffle the sound of the shot. If I timed it right, the sound of thunder would drown the shot out entirely.
I shied away from murdering him in cold blood, though. Vars and his father had taken everything from me... but I couldn't find the drive to murder Vars, not while he was unconscious and tied up, anyway. Beat him senseless, sure, but not to shoot him in the head when he couldn’t even defend himself.
For some reason, that made me feel oddly better. I turned back to the mirror, adjusting my uniform one last time before adopting a superior sneer like Vars normally wore. Then, taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the overseer's office.
***
I walked out, into the glass-lined room. It felt a bit like a fish tank, even more so for the fact that I felt the eyes of many of the pirates on me. I kept my head up, strutting a bit, my best imitation of Vars’ walk. I felt like I was overdoing it, but no one said anything, so maybe it was fine.
Being inside the room, I took note of where the pirates had gathered. All of them wore body armor and carried slung weapons. I felt self-conscious without armor, even more like I had a target on my back.
Looking around, I didn’t see any signs of the payment for House Mantis. There were no crates, no briefcases, nothing. Either it hadn’t shown up yet, or… Oh God, I thought to myself, please tell me it’s not some kind of electronic transfer…
The House Mantis Black Cloaks stood on their half of the room. I could feel their eyes on me and I did what I figured Vars would do, I gave them a glower. I moved over and took a position where the portable lights didn’t shine directly on my face, leaving it partially in shadow.
“Sir,” one of the pirates came up to me. “We still haven’t finished searching the room…”
“Its fine,” I snapped at him, “I wanted to see it for myself.”
The guard swallowed nervously, “Yes sir.” He stood there, as if uncertain of what to do. I glared at him, “Don’t you have something you need to be doing?”
The fear he held for Vars worked in my favor, he hurried off without another word. I inwardly gave a sigh of relief, but I didn’t let any of that get to my expression. If I wavered, if anyone even suspected that I wasn’t who I pretended to be…
Down the way, I recognized the Hunter from the previous conversation. He sauntered over, a pair of his fellows falling in behind. He was surprisingly tall and thin, complicated tattoos pressed into his pale flesh, his brightly colored hair stark against his pale skin. He wore a form-fitting set of body armor, in the green of House Mantis.
“Vars,” he smirked at me, “I hadn’t expected you to scuttle out until after your people made sure we weren’t carrying any bombs or something fun like that… or at least until my boss showed up.”
I glowered at him, just as Vars had glowered at me often enough. “I’m not afraid of you.” I snapped off. My stomach was twisting though and I was painfully aware that I was the only person in the room not wearing body armor of some type. Maybe Vars had been that confident, or maybe he’d had some under his uniform. I should have checked him.
“Then you’re stupider than I thought,” the Hunter snapped. His expression went hard. “Where’s the payment? My mistress won’t
show until I verify you have it.”
Oh, great, I thought to myself, what if Vars was the one supposed to bring it? I silenced that thought and looked over at one of the pirate guards. “You, bring it up.”
“Sir?” The pirate looked around in confusion.
“I said bring up the payment,” I snapped at him.
“But…” I turned and glared at him and his mouth snapped shut, “Sir!” He hurried off.
“Underlings,” the Hunter chuckled, “so hard to find good ones, isn’t it?”
I thought about what Vars would do and I came up blank, so I just didn’t say anything.
A few minutes later, the doors to the stairwell opened and Wessek came through. He had a briefcase in his hand and his thick beard looked unkempt. He shot me a look and for just a second, I saw a moment of confusion, almost as if he realized something was wrong. I gave him a confident look and the moment passed, but I felt a nervous sweat break out on me.
Wessek walked right up next to me. He held up the briefcase, “Here it is.”
“Indeed,” the Hunter purred. “I’m impressed to see you here. From what I understand, things didn’t go so well for you and your former master out at Century, eh?”
Wessek’s olive skin darkened in anger, “Things didn’t go to plan, no. That’s why we set this up, though, right? I pay your mistress and we get protection from House Mantis?” I could hear the anger in his voice. Wessek didn’t like being under the power of someone else. He especially didn’t like having to ask for anything.
“The payment?” the Hunter smirked, pointing at the briefcase.
Wessek lifted it up and set it on a nearby table. He opened it up and it was everything I could do to control my expression as the Hunter reached inside and lifted a stack of plastic chips. I’d expected singles or maybe even Ten-Marks, but the numbers on the tops read “100.” I counted twenty of the chips in the single stack, and there were many, many stacks, each one wrapped with some kind of seal. All of the stacks were packed tightly, so that they didn’t shift and move with the case.